#dont get me started about the lack of actual meat and content in it

[mischiefmagpie]

Veilguard doesn't feel like a Dragon Age game for a multitude of reasons:

It doesn't allow you to butt heads with your companions over *anything*. It doesn't allow you to even converse with your companions outside of scripted scenes — you can't just approach them and open a dialogue wheel until they want to talk to Rook; you'll just get one-liners Rook can't respond to and passive NPC-exclusive interactions that Rook happens to overhear.

It doesn't allow you to ask about/discuss the world, culture, organizations, or its history (i.e. any previous installments, or your character's selected backstory). It never references any game outside of Inquisition, and barely references Inquisition despite being a direct sequel to it. None of your previous games decisions are imported or considered. There isn't even a proper "canon" they present, the past is just a void.

There's no small side stories, barely any ambient/passing npc talk, nor many side quests, (let alone complex or fulfilling ones just filler for large scale plot), there are companion Loyalty Quests that all converge to the main story that ends in a Suicide Mission.

Veilguard doesn't feel like a Dragon Age game, because it plays like a Mass Effect game.

[iceeckos12]

time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts. 

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at. 

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

[starkeristheendgame]

yk what tony needs? some good cock worship. if anyone deserves it it’s tony and we all know peter would do anything for his daddy

So you probably didn't mean this as a prompt but my lizard brain sort of glued itself to cock worship and I kinda ran with it.

TW: Daddy kink | Breathplay if you squint.

Peter had many things he adored about Tony. An almost endless list, in fact. There was very little he disliked, aside from Tony's blatant lack of self care, love and respect.

If asked, he'd wax poetic about Tony's selfless heroism, the way he laughed and the way he looked in a tux. His frighteningly intelligent mind and his sassy jokes.

But they were all, to some extent, a lie.

Or at the least, a half-truth.

No. Peter's true favourite thing about Tony - not to sound shallow - was his cock.

When Tony's sex tapes were leaked; Peter nearly wanked himself into exhaustion. Took the day off sick to stare slack-jawed and drooling at the shaky videos. Not even the shame of finding out they weren't consensually recorded wasn't enough to drive him to delete them.

And meeting the man in person, well. Seeing the way that cock stretched his slacks, the slight jut in thr armour to encompass its mass comfortably...

Even Captain America had resorted to the odd polite cough to bring Peter's eyes back up to an appropriate level.

The first time Peter had actually gotten up close and personal with it, he'd cried. Literally. Genuine tears had streamed down his cheeks. Tony had been horrified.

Of course, the horror had quickly vanished when Peter had forced himself down on it, inch by underprepared inch, too eager to wait any longer. Too desperate to get a feel of it.

It was a need that had never waned. Not even five months later, when they had tentatively and unspokenly gone from just sexual to something a little more... More.

"Je-esus, kid! Take a breath," Tony hissed above him, practically curling over Peter's head as the boy hollowed his cheeks, putting a Dyson to shame.

"You are literally-" Peter let his teeth skim the smooth, slick tip. "-The only person who'd complain during a blowjob."

He punctuated it by letting his tongue press firmly into the leaking slit, tasting the pre-cum there.

"I can, when you won't let me cum," Tony grumbled back, relaxing against the headboard, threading his fingers through Peter's hair tenderly.

Peter supposed he had a point. Tony had been on the edge of cumming earlier, hips shoving his cock deep into Peter's throat, right up until Peter had pinned them down, let the suction drop, wrapped his fingers tight around Tony's base.

Peter couldn't help it. He wasn't ready for it to be over. Wanted Tony's cock in his mouth for hours to follow. Wanted it choking him until Tony was desperate to cum, until he took matters into his own hands.

He licked a fat, wet stripe up the side, then the underside; the other side, laving the hard, hot skin like a cold ice-cream on a hot day. Kitten-licked his way up to the tip and sealed his lips over it, sucked hard until his throat ached with it.

"Peter - Peter, fuck. Fuck. That's it, baby," Tony groaned, using the handful of hair he held in a tight fist to try and pull Peter down. Peter braced himself on his elbows, resisted.

He wasn't ready to let Tony cum. Not yet.

The night had started off slow, lazy. Peter had kissed and licked his way down Tony's stomach, had spent almost twenty minutes simply mouthing at Tony's cock through his jeans.

Had crawled his way up Tony's body, ground against him in slow, circular rocks until Tony's grip went tighter, until he tried to fuck up against Peter's ass.

And that had landed them here. With Tony so hard his cock was red, verging on purple, so strung out and high on the dragged out pleasure he was rosy cheeked and glossy eyed, chest heaving as he panted.

He suckled his way back down the underside, to the sensitive dip where cock base became balls, suckled here as he used his thumb to abuse the slit, felt Tony writhing beneath him. Coiled like a spring.

"God, that mouth. That fucking mouth. Daddy can't look at it without thinking about those pretty little lips all stretched around his cock," Tony breathed, and Peter whined even though he saw through the attempt to get him to sweeten up.

Relatiating, Peter steadied himself and sunk down on Tony's cock, felt the thick stretch of it forcing his throat open, cutting off his air. Suckled and gurgled around Tony's dick as his breath became short and Tony's hips bucked in aborted little jumps.

"You're gonna kill me," Tony whined above him, eyes round and revered as he watched Peter's cheeks go ruddy. The boy hadn't even had his cock touched in an hour, but he looked as wrecked as Tony felt.

Peter truly seemed to intend on sending him to an early grave, because some gentle bullying found Tony standing by the edge of the bed, watching in rapt wonder as Peter's throat bulged around his cock.

"Daddy's little slut," he cooed affectionately, went to pull out when Peter's body begun to convulse slightly. But hands found his asscheeks, gripped the meat hard and pinned him in place as Peter squirmed.

"Shit, baby. Baby, let me go. You gotta breathe. You ca-an't," Tony's words broke as Peter choked around him, swallowed, finally let him go as the boy gasped for air, hanging off the edge of the bed.

Peter didn't really give either of them time to recover, drooling as he painted for breath, wrestling Tony back down onto the bed and diving straight back onto his cock with sloppy, loose sucks, more a wet space for Tony to thrust up into.

"You'd swear my cock was a drug and you're an addict," Tony huffed, gripping Peter's jaw to pull him off, fingers flexing at the pathetic whine Peter let loose at being denied.

"Can't help it," the boy drawled in response, wrapping both hands around Tony's cock and pumping him in slow, twisting strokes.

"It's so perfect. So big. It's yours." Fought his way back down to suck the tip like it was oxygen.

Tony could have cum. With his cock twitching a drooling pre-cum over Peter's tongue, with his hands in the boys hair and pleasure now a raging inferno in his gut.

He was denied.

"Baby. Please. Daddy's begging you," Tony whimpered, voice rough as Peter kept him teetering on the edge, grip flexing and tongue curling around his cock, breath hot over Tony's hip.

"Mm," Peter mumbled around him, vibrations making Tony's whole body seize. He felt like a live wire, electric and ready to explode, fingers twisting harshly in Peter's dark curls. Peter swallowed him down again, not choking himself but constricting his throat around Tony's cock, tongue pressed flat and warm, an extra friction on each thrust.

Tony could feel it. Building. Raging. Consuming. Tried desperately not to show it in case Peter stole it from him for a third time, bit his lip and let his head fall back as he rocked up in the slick embrace of Peter's throat.

Peter must've known, though, because as Tony cried out and buried himself down Peter's throat, the boy swallowed him easily, cheeks hollowed and eyes closed, squeezed Tony tight as cum flooded the back of his throat.

He was sloppy and sticky when he pulled out, slapped his cock a few times against Peter's swollen, plum-shade lips with a lazy, worn out smile. "Daddy's perfect little boy," Tony praised, cupped Peter's cheek.

He let out a rough sound when Peter's tongue licked up his cock, oversensitive and done for, but the boy was only cleaning up, licking and suckling gently until Tony was cleaner and softening against his jaw.

"You suck dick like you'll die if you dont," Tony mused, hauling Peter up, over his body to snuggle, the press of the boy's hard cock digging into his hip, though Peter seemed content just to curl against him.

"A dick like that deserved worship," Peter rasped, looking up at him with a dopey grin.

And worship Peter did. Every blowjob was like a prayer, leaving Tony almost too far gone to bury himself in the boy's ass. Sucking him down until he was glazing over from oxygen loss; until the ache of his jaw was visible in the way he ground his teeth.

But Tony had never felt more loved or more worshipped than when he was two hours into needing to cum, helpless beneath his boy as Peter licked and sucked.

[soysaurus]

for the question meme (if ur still doing this) 001 for tachigin?

bestie. bodalicious babe. im always down for ask games. ALSO TACHIGIN MY BELOVED :simp:

anw...onto the questions heheh 😼

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did:

my thoughts:

What makes me happy about them:

What makes me sad about them:

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

things I look for in fanfic:

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

My happily ever after for them:

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

i like doing this but also lmao help why is this hard lol

when I started shipping it if I did:

literally as soon i saw them. uhhhh, im not too sure when i started watching bsd...early 2020? i genuinely can't really remember but yeah. as soon as i got into bsd. i feel like 2020 is late...but also is it... mate idk i feel like you know this more than me. maybe it was after that actually lol. but yeah whenever the hell i started watching bsd. that first moment where theres like the gun to gin's stomach and the knife to tachi's throat...god chefs kiss. i was like YES MY SHIP HELLO. i have a type oh my god help

my thoughts:

this is like, such a vague question. and as you can see in the dabi ask a bit before this...i am so bad at getting my thoughts together. i will go on rambles for centuries or i will have...like one sentence. but i like them.

ok uh. warnings for bsd manga spoilers ahead: one of my favourite things about tachigin is the fucking parallels between them. theres just so much to work with in terms of similar themes. and theyre very much like...polar opposites, but so similar at the same time. it's another version of dabihawks omg...in relation to this inverse direction of themes....wow my ships are just the same thing but in slightly different flavours...

but they both deal with this idea of family and loss...and they have the whole things theyre doing for/bc of their brother similarity too. except they both went off in completely opposite directions, jut like with their personalities. we have the quiet one and the one who talks too much/too loud. we have the one who waits in the shadows and the one who rushes in, guns blazing. we have silent but deadly and raucous and reckless. but theyre like this mirror image of one another, and i think its so cool. esp bc theyre both very minor characters (well, aside from tachi recently). but even with the whole abilities thing...one with and one without.

so yeah. my thoughts can honestly go one forever bc theres so much to explore with them but i'll wrap up here haha

What makes me happy about them:

their back and forth. they have this cheeky kind of banter currently going on between them, and i think it really solidifies the whole sense of belonging between them. theyre both very isolated characters, and gin learns to kind of open up more, and i do think tachi contributes a lot to that. and tachi gets so comfortable around her. its really sweet tbh. but yeah, in each other, they kind of make the mafia their home. and the best part is i dont think they even realise it. its this subconscious comfort thats slowly forming between them, and they dont even realise that the other person is such a huge reason for why their sense of identity is being tied to the mafia.

it makes for a lot of interesting thoughts, scenarios, and i really dont understand how they're such an underrated ship when you have this much...flesh and meat in their dynamic already. it's spread through crumbs in the anime and manga, yes, but it's there. it's so, so there. people are fucking sleeping on them lmaooo

What makes me sad about them:

the lack!! of content!!! there's so much room for angst, fluff, everything! and i would love to see some long fics in the tag with them. i want to see their relationship broken apart and threaded back together in front of me—i want to be able to understand their characters so much better than i do currently, but i can't. there's just not enough people to talk about them with—not enough things to read about to flesh them out in my head. i wish they made other people as happy as they make me haha

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

sigh um. this is going to feel a bit targeted bc there arent many fics in the tag, so sorry lmao. i feel bad saying this but. often these two are kind of just reduced to plot devices for fluff. and i get it. it's nice, but that's the only thing in the tag right now. and tachi is not a soft uwu boy. gin is not a soft uwu girl—although she definitely has her soft side, i'm not denying that. but like sometimes i feel like the real meat of their characters completely vanish in the face of a sweet but awkward date. i'd like something a little more. i'd like more aus too, bc i love aus more than canonverse, and i can't really find any unless i write it myself.

things I look for in fanfic:

aus!! good characterisation! specifically with tachigin: length. i first look to the wc bc i want something chonky. but aus my beloved. particularly modern aus but i cant really be picky with this ship ngl.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

uhhh this is a very interesting question. i think for gin, lucy. they're but. i like to hc tachi as aro sometimes, so i feel like he'd be more of a free spirit. just kind of floating among lots of people. the tanizaki/tachi ship is interesting though, even if i don't think i'd ever read a fic solely based on them alone.

My happily ever after for them:

fuck lmao. um. i never think about the distant future. i think i would be happy with them finding a family—whether that be the mafia or kind of a group of other people. but i'd love to see them in a place where they're comfortable and feel loved and at home. but also i wouldnt want them to lose the edge that makes their partnership so them. they're black lizard commanders for a reason, so i think i would like to see their lives calm down when they're in their thirties or something. bc i can't see it calming down any time soon—especially when you account for character growth and development bc i dont think either of them would be able to give up the urge to reach for something metal—whether it be a knife or a gun—instantly.

basically: they need therapy. as do all anime charas. this is not a happily ever after lmao but i find i cant really think of hcs and happily ever afters and stuff without planning a fic and i havent gotten to the end of planning/writing a tonne of tachigin fics. so oops. i dodge questions with unnecessary rambling once again <3

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

they take turns. i dont take criticism <3 but also lmao i feel like every couple takes turns so i always find this question a little funny. tachi ig would be the big spoon though, purely because he's way more open in terms of physical affection than gin is; she's very reserved, so i feel like she naturally curls up a bit when she sleeps or lies/sits down. she's the type to sit with her legs together, arms together. very still. very...static? put together? idk its definitely this kind of tightness that tachihara just lacks because he's a lot less refined. wow this answer derailed a lot.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

i feel like target practice would be something they would enjoy a lot—just trying to best one another at who has better aim, who is more skilled, who can do things the fastest, etc. and i have a fic where they play mc so ive been thinking about them playing mc a lot so thats another answer. purely because i've been thinking about it too much and it's just on low volume constantly in the back of my brain.

[topconfessions]

Yes yes yes! Top needs a little more meat on his bones or else he just doesn’t look good. He also looked just so fine when he filmed Tazza 2 and his last film - sorry, can’t remember the name - he seemd to be working out more and the muscle looked so good on him! And don’t forever 2015, I think especially around the time they toured in America he looked fine as hell. Talking about it makes me miss the old times :(

Depressing....truly. Those were good times. He was so damn good looking and healthy looking. He seemed happier. He seemed sane and on the right path. I'm starting to wonder if he dabbled in drugs beyond weed.

Either something happened or drugs hit too hard. Yes Tazza 2 was peak era for his looks. I knew a girl who foamed at the mouth for TOP still (she out of the loop) and even for his pink hair era. He looked gaunt and not like himself. But his Charisma helped him look better. He was kinda cute. Kinda sexy but he had this habit of making that lame fuckboy sad face a lot of guys did back then to be trendy. The weird type of eyebrow burrowing raising type or sad expression. It just showed how odd he looked.

He looked his best during Tazza and in the past before that. He is actually losing that signature natural contour of his cheek bones in his face his used to have. I only really seen it when he would smile in Made era.

Also it's sus and weird he doesn't show his face anymore.. At least during his weird spamming he would take selfies. Its hard to be his fan now.

So yes allow to me to be petty for once and say I don't fucking understand why that old anon tried to say I don't like him. You gotta be delusional or only care about the surface level shit to say stanning TOP is easy. We don't even have anything new from him. Y'all dont understand how damn disappointing it is when you look through gifs or content of TOP and he has NOTHING to work with. At all. And all your kpop friends stanning people who have endless gif sets from music shows and other content to easily share or edit. Top is making himself dated and has been with his lack or participation in the industry. These new kids don't give a fuck about big bang let alone TOP like that. We get new fans to this day but we not collecting stans like BTS is. It's 2021 and I can only find good content on TOP from maybe 2017? 2018? Pitiful. Even the best of him is 2012.

[kikaikiga]

I don’t believe in NY resolutions ... but.

Christmas has been and gone, as has the whole New Years wave of ‘I’m losing weight’, ‘I’m going to the gym’ and ‘I’m never eating meat again’ et cetera, et cetera.

I’ve long given up on making statements like these mainly because ... well, I can’t keep to them. I cave in too easily to temptation and to be honest, never have the proper motivation to do what I aim to do. Don’t get me wrong, I can appreciate the whole idea as, after all, it’s basically forcing the mind set of ‘Anything is possible if you only believe’ and ‘No dream is unreachable, follow your dreams no matter how big they may be’.

I guess I’ve just got used to settling into ‘the norm’ of daily life and not wanting to leave the comfort of ‘just getting by’. Yes I’ve had dreams to do all sorts of different things and become so much more than I am, some of which I even started to do but, true to form, I give up or lose sight far too easily.

Alot of this is due to the utter lack of self confidence I have. Mix this with some anxiety and Bi-Polar and well, I’m amazed I get anything done at all to be honest.

Anyway, I did actually have a point to writing this bunch of waffle so I guess I should get too it. To help you get where this is coming from, let me sum up the past week or so;

I’ve spent most of this past week busting my bones at work, as per usual, which I actually don’t really mind because, despite all the moaning, I do genuinly love my job. It does however burn me out from time to time as I hit points where, despite putting in all the hours and doing the best I feel I can, I feel like I’m stuck in a rut. A rut of going nowhere and just being a figure used by company CEO’s that sit behind desks, neatly writing out how my job should be done. CEO’s that dont spend a second on the damn job floor and think that, because it fits on their lines and tables on paper, it will work perfectly when put into action. Obviously, because that’s how business works ... not. 

Anyway, I had one of those moments this week and it ended with me questioning if I’m actually where I want to be in regards to work. The answer? Suprisingly, yes. I know progress takes time and I don’t have anywhere near as much patience as I should. Then came the otherside of it. I may be content with work but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realised that It’s how I am outside of work that has been bothering me.

What do I mean by this? Well, despite all that’s been happening the past year, I’m content with the decisions I’ve made in regards to my social life. Some decisions have been heartbreaking and so hard to make but, despite this, I feel I’ve taken the best course I could have for my own mental health.

I realise I seem to have contradicted myself here but just bear with me. So, yes socially I’m okay with where I’m at, however there’s more than just a social life when your not at work. Hobby, activity and interest wise, I’ve sunk.

Now let me explain and get to the point of this whole essay. I’ve been streaming properly since 2015 yet, my love and passion for games started long before, to when I was just a kid. Yes I know, this is the story with most gamers but isn’t that one of the things that bonds us all? Even so, my point is that, for something I’ve loved all my life, I’ve lost the spark.

Dont get me the wrong way on this, I still love playing but I feel like there’s something I’m missing and I can’t figure out what ... or at least I couldn’t until today. I started streaming because I was playing games and had so many moments where, without actually seeing it to experience it, regailing tales of my play just didn’t share the spark I got properly to other people. Those funny moments where you couldn’t do it again if you tried? Not funny if the person your sharing it with wasn’t witness to it at the time. This kind of feeling applies to reviews aswell.

I started review writing because, despite all of the opinions already out there, I wanted to share my two-pennies worth in way that was fair and different. It helps me get out everything I want to say, in my own way, without the feeling i’m being judged for my opinion. And yet, this too I’ve lost the spark for. The feeling I used to get from writing I just don’t get anymore. But I think ... I think I may have figured out the reason why.

After alot of pondering and musing on life decisions, I’ve realised that alot of what I’ve tried to do recently has been forced. I’ve been slowly pulled into the mindset of doing things because it’s expected by others, rather than for my own want and satisfaction. I’ve been thinking long and hard about who I want to be and where I want to take my life and I think ... I think I’ve finally got myself facing the right direction again.

I know It’s not going to be easy and Im well aware that I need to properly want it for this to work ... but I’m at least willing to try and that to me is a good first step. To save me writing another half an essay, I’ll simply bullet my list and hopefully manage to at least sway towards some of these in the coming time:

x Regular review writing on all kinds of games

x More frequent streams, not neccessarily scheduled but more often

x More confidence in myself, as a person, a streamer, a writer and a friend

x Better organisation of stream/writing space. Keep my desk clear and light, but still decorated and game orientated

x More confident in streams ... talk more, joke more ... generally have a better time

x keep my flat tidy and sorted, tidy house tidy mind and all that

x drink more, eat more, stop depriving body of what it needs

I know to many this list may seem either stupid, or common sense or whatever but, these are things I really struggle with. Many people struggle with the simpler things in life and I am definitely one of them. I really do want to change that though. I want to be happy with who I am, what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. I know there arn’t many that will read this through but to all of you who support and follow me ... thankyou, you don’t know how much you help a girl out <3

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTER LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 8? IS IT 8 ALREAD- YEAH IT IS.

oh god its been 8 weeks already i dont like that these chapters reveal how much time im WASTING but c’est la vie as always lets put these assholes on blast:

moving SWIFTLY on!!!!!!!!!!!!

(also what do you mean ‘it’s the meat chapter’. wh. what meat. hello.)

She slumped back against uncomfortably warm stone, trying to tuck her feet back into the shade.

it’s a known fact that glynda is all Long all Angles and also a lot of Beef,

this is? the date, right? the date chapter? yes? all the chapters have been shuffled around i have NO sense of where i am because all thats happened for 7 chapters is ive been assaulted by lesbians but given the distant chanting of meat meat meat this must be the date.... right.........................................

OH THAT MEANS WE GET TO SEE CINDER’S DRESS NICE

Cinder’s smile flashed through Glynda’s mind, and she shifted against the stone wall, reaching for her Scroll.

my favourite thing is how whenever cinder and glynda think of each other its never not got crazy gay energy............. this is LITERALLY like the whole ‘i sleep next to a photo of my enemy’ deal!!!!!!!!!!! they’re both just attracted to dangerous (and also stupid) people, is the thing,

The Grimm swarmed, biting insects with snapping mandibles, their chitinous exoskeletons all scraping against one another with their constant, eager writhings.

YES thats some GOOD IMAGERY RIGHT THERE IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF UH-HUH

honestly i- OKAY LOOK I SAID IT BEFORE BUT I STAND BY HOW OFFAL HUNT IS SO VISCERAL... i love writing thats like............ kinda Uncomfy to imagine but also rly detailed and just rly digs into the gore and the grossness............ its GOOD CONTENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank god offal hunt just whaps u in the face w/ it like a damp sock,

we’re got a bit of slow start here which is a nice way to  slice the difference between earlier ‘gotta go fast’ glyn and this ‘actually i’m way out of my depth’ glyn. wow! i can BREATHE. and we havent had anything massively cheeky pop up yet which may be a new record all round

The ripples of its being reached Glynda with ease, consuming those of the smaller Grimm. It was dangerous. More dangerous by far, even out here among these ancient beasts.

mmmmmmmmmmm this is- okay slight spoilers but i presume this is hati? aka he who had like a handful of lines in the first version and was generally just... look hati was winner of The Most Vague award in the first version so i’m hoping its hati because i am CURIOUS ABT THIS BOY.................. who i coincidentally love. who is he? we’re not sure (yet) but i love him. its just a fact!

It wasn’t just consumption. It was desecration. Vile unmaking. The Grimm stripped away her flesh. Tasted of her marrow. Gorged itself on the gristle between her bones and peeled back her ribs to reveal the chasm within. It sucked the soul from her chest in a wash of red and agony that spanned centuries, each running over the raw meat of her like long, black claws—

I JUST LOVE THE WAY THIS SHIT GETS DESCRIBED ITS SO SATISFYING also i feel like there should be a tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny fingerguns in here t e c h n i c a l l y but im not gonna cause its vague enough i can kiiiiiiiiiiiiiinda move on kinda slightly maybe

It felt like death itself had caught her in its massive maw, chilling her organs, reaching for the soul at the core of her.

OKAY FINE 👈😡👈

OKAY FINE YEAH THE REST OF THIS IS ALL CHEEKY FINGERGUNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that said this is all RLY VITAL STORYTELLING and im rly glad we’ve got some expanded Glynda Lore because it was Lacking in the archived version... but now we’re full on until glynda backstory babey!!!!!!!! yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fear itself couldn’t touch her, and even as she thought this, she felt it drain away.

Her breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. Information trickled in, unburdened by emotion.

👈👈👈😡👈👈👈

glynda rly DOES only have half a braincell Huh

OKAY DATE TIME? DATE TIME? YES? MAYBE?????????????? god ive been looking forward to this stupid gay date for so long. EIGHT WEEKS. EIGHT.

A pause. “Are you familiar with the Hill of Roses Massacre?”

ah the return of the Plot (that Isnt The Gay Bit)

i was gonna Say A Thing, and then answered my own question, and then realised it’d be spoilers anyway. YAY SPOILERS! YAY NOT BEING ABLE 2 SAY ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so yeah theres a lot going on here dsdjhgf

“Well, it was your class, so.” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

/ticks off ‘anything to do w/ ozpin’ off the bingo card, again,

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that, Glynda. With this meeting on the horizon… I fear I would cloud your judgement.”

oz i love u and yr cryptic bullshit but this will not the first Nor The Last Time glynda and i are both exasperated w/ u. please. blease.

Ozpin had never misled her before.

👈😂👈

“I’m only following orders.” Written with the same implication as a wink. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with, Professor?”

i fucking adore winter schnee i’d DIE for her

i may have to make a spoiler version of this later because theres Some Shit being said here and i DIRELY have to expand upon it but that will have 2 wait dskfjsdf

When they saw she was human, they waved her through without any trouble.

i still feel like im being targeted for my url!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! U ASSHOLES,

As much as she could, Glynda tried to avoid the constant bump of shoulders and too-tight quarters. As large as she was, it was nearly impossible,

what did i say!!!!!!!!!!!!! we LOVE one beefy bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(im literally getting SO excited for the date reveal im VIBRATING)

She still didn’t have much of an idea what waited within, but she had quite a few reservations about using the front door.

me: knows whats coming also me: glynda please

As a Huntress who’d been trained in both subtlety and stealth, Glynda had a few ideas.

The next person who stepped outside was thrown roughly aside,

ME: GLYNDA PLEASE,

you have no idea how often im just. i have my face in my hands. glynda’s never heard of a repercussion in her life. cinder once saw the word ‘consequences’ and broke out into hives. im. where’s the thinking-

And then she noticed Cinder.

here comes the peak gay im so ready HERE IT COMES-

Her hair was tossed over one shoulder as always, but in place of her usual crimson dress, she wore black tonight. Dark fabric with but a hint of iridescent specks rippled around her ankles, rising up to stretch tight across her hips. It rose all the way to the hollow of her throat and was cut to be sleeveless, though Cinder wore gloves of the same material that rose nearly to her shoulders.

HERE IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god u may know i drew a shitpost of this scene and now i Have to redraw it to be even Sexier!!!!!!!!!! also i know glynda could argue she’s being Observant but i also think, she’s a home of saxophone, and is gay,

LIKE ‘stretch tight across her hips’ WHY YA L O O K I N

Glass heels clicked over the dark stone floor as Cinder stopped right in front of Glynda, looking up at her from beneath lofty bangs. Gold eyes swept from the crown of Glynda’s head to the crop gripped so tightly in her hand—and then Cinder smiled.

there is No heterosexual explanation for this

Cinder clicked her tongue. “Well, now that you’re here, shall we?”

“Shall we…?”

“Glynda,” she chided, rolling her eyes. “Dinner, of course.”

IM LOSING MY MIND AAAAAAAAAAAAA THEY’RE LESBIANS HAROLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAROLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay. okay. this still isnt QUITE THE DATE CHAPTER BUT WE’RE RLY IN IT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im so scared that a whole chap has been saved for this meal because its going to be so long and charged w/ lesbian energy and its gonna kill me BUT OH WELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway i loved it. the end.

[jjarcc]

Brokeback Mountain and Brandon Teena

i think for me, growing up where i grew up was both good and bad. i spent a large portion of my childhood lonely, i felt isolated from other people no matter if they where adults or children. where i live its what i’ll call “the most souther” part of the midwest, we have the poverty and ideology of small-town southern america even deep into the city, and so i often find myself relating more to LGBT characters from movies set in the south rather than the cities in the north/east.

for me, Brokeback mouton really spoke to my heart. the large about of terror both men had for loving each other, the way the wives reacted when they realized their husbands where in love with one another, the movie in its whole.

the movie goes deeper than two repressed gay men having a beer and fuck once a year, the movies dives deeper into showing us the fear these men had. jacks pain and longing to be with ennis, while ennis was so scared of the idea of loving him openly that his emotions where completely shut off and absent throughout their relationship.

when ennis was young, his father had showed him some horrible shit- a gay man from their town bloody, mutilated and dead. jack never knew of this, but i believe that was the root of Dennis’s fear. he didn’t want that to be jack; or himself.

he had probably known, and likely his father too, and thats why they decided to add that into the movie. that particular scene was one of the most striking and powerful for me.

jacks family, however emotionless they where, where not like ennis’s. however, he had a lot of internalized turmoil. the turmoil turning to great frustration as time went on.

over the 20 years in their relationship, there was a lot of lying, tension, and even agony. all because of what? their fear of judgement? or, their fear of the worst; death.

when jack was found dead and ennis found out, i felt my heart stop. i felt that pain in that moment, that crushing pain that ennis felt. all his fears had come true. in a frantic frenzy to find out what happened, he called his lovers widow, and she then (as i assume) knew why her husband was always so joyful to go on those fishing trips.

the whole movie is powerful- and painful. it shows our terror to be ourselves, and shows how we often are treated.

another movie that i find myself relating to the most would be Boys Don’t cry, which is a film about Brandon Teena, a trans man who was murdered based on his identity.

(TW for some of what i talk about coming after this, there will be specific TW for when violence is mentioned)

brandon teena was born in lincoln Nebraska, which i don’t live 3 hours away from, so this one scared my pants off.

he had had quite a troubled childhood; his father died 8 months before he was born, and he spent the first few years of his childhood living with his grandmother, then eventually his mother. (TW) when he was young, he was sexually abused by his uncle, and eventually sought counseling for this.

in 1993, after some legal trouble, he moved to falls city nebraska where he first started identifying as a man openly, and then met Lana Tisdel, and some convicts by the names of John Lotter and Marvin Nissen.

in late december 1993 brandon was arrested for forging checks, and Lana ended up paying his bail. he was thrown into a woman jail, and his girlfriend of course questioned him on it, to which he said he was a Hermaphrodite working towards a sex change, and they continued dating.

Brandon’s arrest was put in the papers, and so he was outted. now, heres the fucked up part; his murder.

now, i couldn’t make myself watch this far into the actual movie, so I’m going off of a wikipedia article now, but i know it was bad. so TW for this part.

this is copied from wikipedia but ill edit it some:

During a Christmas Eve party, Nissen and Lotter grabbed Teena and forced him to remove his pants, proving to Tisdel that Teena was anatomically female. Tisdel said nothing and looked only when they forced her. Lotter and Nissen later assaulted Teena, and forced him into a car. They drove to an area by a meat-packing plant in Richardson County, where they assaulted and gang raped him. They then returned to Nissen's home where Teena was ordered to take a shower. Teena escaped from Nissen's bathroom by climbing out the window, and went to Tisdel's house. He was convinced by Tisdel to file a police report, though Nissen and Lotter had warned Teena not to tell the police about the gang rape or they would "silence him permanently". Teena also went to the emergency room where a standard rape kit was assembled, but later lost. Sheriff Charles B. Laux questioned Teena about the rape; reportedly, he seemed especially interested in Teena's transsexuality, to the point that Teena found his questions rude and unnecessary, and refused to answer. Nissen and Lotter learned of the report, and they began to search for Teena. They did not find him, and three days later, the police questioned them. The sheriff declined to have them arrested due to lack of evidence.

Around 1:00 a.m. on December 31, 1993, Nissen and Lotter drove to Lambert's house and broke in. They found Lambert in bed and demanded to know where Teena was. Lambert refused to tell them. Nissen searched and found Teena under the bed. The men asked Lambert if there was anyone else in the house, and she replied that Phillip DeVine, who at the time was dating Tisdel's sister, was staying with her. They then shot and killed DeVine, Lambert and Teena in front of Lambert's toddler. Nissen later testified in court that he noticed that Teena was twitching, and asked Lotter for a knife, with which Nissen stabbed Teena in the chest, to ensure that he was dead. Nissen and Lotter then left, later being arrested and charged with murder.

one of the real kickers for me, is that brandon’s grave is written as “Daughter, Sister, And friend”.

Because Teena had neither commenced hormone replacement therapy nor had sex reassignment surgery, he has sometimes been identified as a lesbian by media reporters. However, some reported that Teena had stated that he planned to have sex reassignment surgery.

JoAnn Brandon sued Richardson County and Sheriff Laux for failing to prevent Brandon's death, as well as being an indirect cause. She won the case, which was heard in September 1999 in Falls City, and was awarded $80,000. District court judge Orville Coady reduced the amount by 85 percent based on the responsibility of Nissen and Lotter, and by one percent for Brandon's alleged contributory negligence. This led to a remaining judgment of responsibility against Richardson County and Laux of $17,360.97. In 2001, the Nebraska Supreme Court reversed the reductions of the earlier award reinstating the full $80,000 award for "mental suffering", plus $6,223.20 for funeral costs. In October 2001, the same judge awarded the plaintiff an additional $12,000: $5,000 for wrongful death, and $7,000 for the intentional infliction of emotional distress. Laux was also criticized after the murder for his attitude toward Teena – at one point, Laux referred to Brandon as "it". After the case was over, Laux served as commissioner of Richardson County and later as part of his community's council before retiring as a school bus driver. He has refused to this day to speak about his actions in the case and swore at one reporter who contacted him for a story on the murder's twentieth anniversary.

In 1999, Brandon became the subject of a biographical film entitled Boys Don't Cry, directed by Kimberly Peirce and starring Hilary Swank as Teena and Chloë Sevigny as Tisdel. For their performances, Swank won and Sevigny was nominated for an Academy Award. Tisdel sued the producers of the film for unauthorized use of her name and likeness before the film's release. She claimed the film depicted her as "lazy, white trash, and a skanky snake". Tisdel also claimed that the film falsely portrayed that she continued the relationship with Teena after she discovered that Teena was transgender. She eventually settled her lawsuit against the movie's distributor for an undisclosed sum.[14][15]

JoAnn Brandon publicly objected to the media referring to her child as "he" and "Brandon". Following Hilary Swank's Oscar acceptance speech, JoAnn Brandon took offence at Swank for thanking "Brandon Teena" and for referring to him as a man. "That set me off", said JoAnn Brandon. "She should not stand up there and thank my child. I get tired of people taking credit for what they don't know. However, in 2013, JoAnn told a reporter that she accepted Teena being referred to as transgender in the media. Although she was unhappy with the way Boys Don't Cry portrayed the situation, she said about the film, "It gave them [gay and transgender advocates] a platform to voice their opinions, and I'm glad of that. There were a lot of people who didn't understand what it was she (Teena) was going through. We've come a long way". When asked to how the murder affects her life today, JoAnn replied, "I wonder about how my life would be different if she was still here with me. She would be such a joy to have around. She was always such a happy kid. I imagine her being a happy adult. And if being happy meant Teena living as a man, I would be fine with that."

Brandon, an interactive web artwork created in 1998 by Shu Lea Cheang, was named for Brandon Teena. The artwork was commissioned by the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. Much of the site's content relates to Brandon's story.[36]

The British duo Pet Shop Boys released a song called "Girls Don't Cry" (a bonus track on U.K. issue of I'm with Stupid) about Teena in 2006. Vancouver-based pop-punk band JPNSGRLS released the song "Brandon", off their debut 2014 album Circulation, in memory of Brandon Teena.

boys dont cry was very hard for me to watch because i felt a sense of attachment to brandon, both in personality and feeling. i felt like i really understood, and it scared me.

both brockback mountain and Boys Dont Cry are amazing movies, if you can, check them out. they deserve all the appreciation they can get.