#he was so angry it made me angry by default

[raeofgayshine]

I love playing Pokémon in a way that would absolutely kill anyone who knows a thing about the game. No I don’t know most weaknesses and strengths of typings or what I should be using. No I’m not building a well rounded team. No I don’t remember battle to battle what moves are effective against what Pokémon’s even if I just fought them and lord knows I don’t really understand their power or literally any stat my mons have. I am heavily brute forcing my way through this game with my team full of Sunflora fusions because this is Infinite Fusions and I can do that. Yes having everyone a grass type presents problems. No I don’t care! I will beef them up enough they can tank hits until I can destroy whoever I’m fighting and if all else fails I have potions and revives and everything I need on stock to keep going. I do not know what I’m doing but I’m having fucking fun with it!!!!

[rolanpilled]

Facts about Rolan you might have missed, while you were busy saving the world

Spoilers for Baldur’s Gate 3 below!

Here’s a collection of some Rolan facts you may have missed during your playthrough. (These are all from memory, so I will edit this later with sources and exact quotes.)

He is not related by blood to Cal and Lia - You can find this information by speaking with his corpse. All three of them consider each other family, but Rolan seems to hold some insecurities about his position with his siblings. In the same conversation, he mentions having “no one” when asked if he has family and that he identifies as “Rolan, just Rolan” - potentially implying that he’s been abandoned or rejected by his blood family, if they’re alive.

Cal considers Rolan an older brother - If Rolan dies during his rescue attempt in Act 2, Cal confesses that Rolan is his “older brother” and “the person he looks up to the most”.

Rolan loves organizing things - He has overhead dialogue with his siblings where he jokes about wanting an organized, color-coded sock drawer.

You can try to convince Rolan to leave his siblings behind at the grove - Try to convince him to leave Lia behind, and he will admit she’s a pain sometimes, but he could never leave her, not even for his prestigious apprenticeship.

Rolan’s diary changes depending on if his siblings live or die - Self-explanatory. He obviously becomes much more depressed and angry if you fail to save his siblings.

Rolan and his siblings have known each other since Cal was at least eight - They have overhead dialogue where Cal mentions that, when he was eight, Rolan once conjured a cat for him, only for him to find out it was made of fire.

It’s implied that Rolan, Cal, and Lia share a mother figure - If Lia dies, Cal has dialogue with Rolan about throwing a party in memorial for her, “like [they] did for mum”.

Rolan, Cal, and Lia have unique dialogue depending on which of them die - This is self-explanatory, but you can see most of the scenes here. He also appears to have unique dialogue coded in act 3 depending on if he’s angry with you or not (if you disrespected Cal and Lia’s memories by calling them Carl and Liam), but I haven’t been able to trigger it yet.

https://twitter.com/gimblebock/status/1705080072489574619?s=46&t=ZnMav_9KejiNOZkZPad0Mg

Lorroakan hates to admit it, but Rolan is more powerful than him - Speak with Lorroakan’s corpse after killing him and having Rolan side with you. He will begrudgingly admit that his apprentice is more powerful than him. Side note, it can be implied that Lorroakan never calls Rolan by his name, as he defaults to “tiefling” or “boy” in their few interactions.

If Rolan has a high enough initiative in the Lorroakan fight, he will use Thunderwave to shove Lorroakan off the tower. Peak revenge.

Some of Rolan’s spells have his name in front of them (Rolan’s Thunderwave, Rolan’s Mage Armor) - Some people have headcannoned this as meaning he had to learn magic by himself, therefore being a Sorcerer. Considering his clothes are a unique color combination for the Sorcerer robes, it raises more than a few questions

Rolan always carries Lorroakan’s letter on him - This one always makes me so sad, pointed out by @sadwizardlover. Throughout the game, the one thing Rolan always carries on his person is the written response from Lorroakan to his letter, posted below.

Lorroakan also beats Rolan up😭 He'll only admit this if Lorroakan's dead though

That’s all! If anyone has any more to add to this list, shoot me an ask✨💞

[baepsays]

Domesticity is a privilege, and privilege is attracted to Gojo Satoru.

Wait we might need to reiterate that. Because if privilege is attracted to Satoru, and being domestic with the love your life is a privilege — how come he hasn't attracted that wishful life yet!?

I mean he's already privileged (in capitalistic and aesthetic sense), he is hopelessly in love with you, so by default next outcome in this equation must be—you, him, and your cats, chilling in your bed. Just watching the rerun of your overwatched favourite show while the cats cuddle up to you two.

Now the only problem is despite being capitally and aesthetically blessed by default, the whole wooing the love of your life thing doesn't happen by staring at them from a distance while making up little scenarios in your head —how your first date would go, your first kiss, what if you met back in high school, meeting the parents, getting their blessings, getting married, and adopting two cats.

You might call him pathetic, but do not worry his friends do not shy away from voicing that fact out every two seconds. Because every two seconds he's letting out a big sigh and going "y/n would like that." or,

"y/n should try this."

"y/n"-

You get the gist of it. Really- thoughtful of him.

So this brings us here, THE Gojo Satoru sitting on the curb of the sidewalk infront of your building. With a bouquet in his hands, decked up in a three piece (probably Italian) custom suit, tie is tied rather not how a tie should be tied. But it works for him. Everything works for him.

Now do not take him for a creep! He's a gentleman of the highest stature. Gojo is actually waiting here for you for that date he secured with you after graciously asking you (practically begging you and with the help of Geto Suguru who made the dire mistake of introducing you to him in the first place).

"Satoru? What are you doing here?"

That is a valid question to have, to walk up to your building, exhausted after work and to see your date sitting outside your building, on the sidewalk nonetheless. Isn't he loaded? Where is his car even?

"Oh I was waiting for you! What are you doing out so late?" At this point he got up to stand face to face with you (took a lot of courage for him to do that!).

"I had to do overtime and, no, wait. Why are you waiting for me at 2 AM?

"Oh you know to pick you up for our date!"

"Satoru. That is tomorrow. I am supposed to see you at 4 PM tomorrow. Were you planning on to camp out here all night? where is your car??" (my concern as well)

"First of all- I got too excited and I couldn't sleep. sooooo-" he stretches it on, what's about to come next couldn't possibly be any better.

"So I thought I'd put on the suit I bought for our date! Then I thought hmm well now if I sleep in this it'll get creases and I won't have much time to get it ironed. Then I saw the flowers, I was growing to give you, sort of wilting away. And I couldn't possibly give you dead flowers for our first date! And I was waiting in my car, then it got towed away, and-"

"STOP."

What do you even do in this situation? Tell him to go home? How is he going to do that with practically no public transport working at this hour and his car gone. Even you barely caught the last train home. I mean any other individual would get weirded out, get angry, and upset. But you, well,

"How about instant ramen and a movie for a first date, on my couch?"

I suppose you are attracted to Gojo Satoru just as much as privilege is attracted to him. And oh what a privilege it is to be loved and to be wanted like that one soft blanket you just want to snuggle up into at the end of the day.

.

.

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To check out more of my stuff click this.

[leclarifies]

forgive and forget (CL16)

✰ charles leclerc x reader ✰

summary �� dating a formula one driver meant that your boyfriend would always be busy, but what you didn't expect was for him to forget your anniversary all together.

genre → angst but gets fluffier towards the end (very short drabble, self-indulgent)

word count → 1.3k words

author's note → honestly, i really like writing angst with charles, i'm sorry dahbdhanda. i just needed a break from writing something with any sort of plot, so enjoy <3

the thunder in the background snapped me from my trance, i've been lost in thought for awhile now. the sky's dark and the day was almost ending, and here i was sitting at the dinner table, alone with food all around me.

the rain was drizzling in monaco, and it fueled the sinking hole in my chest. i knew that charles was a busy man, but i didn't expect him to forget our anniversary together.

somehow, i didn't feel sad, or disappointed. i just felt numb. it hurt of course, seeing your own boyfriend forgetting about your anniversary, something i thought that we would both celebrate together, spend the day together, or maybe just sit in the quiet of our apartment, kissing and touching and ending the day together.

but the fact of the matter was, he was a formula one driver and i couldn't keep expecting him to be there when i wanted. it was a selfish want, and somehow i needed to understand that not all anniversaries can be celebrated, and not all of them will be remembered.

a sigh escapes my lips, i've been waiting for him to come home for four hours now. maybe it was time to let up. i gently took the plates of now cold food and shuffled into the kitchen, putting them into containers to store in the fridge, not wanting them to go to waste. i had lost my appetite in the process, not even touching my own plate of food.

when i was finished putting all of the food away in the fridge, the door of our apartment jingled, charles was home.

"amour, i'm home," his voice had rung out in the apartment as he entered our shared apartment, even though i felt upset, i couldn't help but smile at him, at least he came home, right?

i was never the one to yell, to throw a fit when he forgot about something. even if it was something as important as our anniversary, i always wanted to talk it out, even when it made me upset and charles would always appreciate it, he would always talk to me lovingly even when we had our arguments.

"you missed our anniversary, love," i told him gently as i walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his middle before leaving a kiss on his cheek, his face flashed from surprise to frustration all in one go, he closed the door behind him and sighed, he was angry at himself for forgetting, i could tell. the way his brows were furrowed and his shoulders tensed.

"i-... amour, i'm sorry. things have been hectic, the car is just so shit this season and i didn't mean to—"

i cut him off before he could ramble on about his work with a soft kiss to his lips, "it's okay, i'm not mad at you. i know how things are at work and i understand, i just feel a little hurt that you didn't call or text me at all," i explain to him and he closes his eyes before wrapping his arms around me, he held me close.

i could smell the faint scent of his cologne as we held eachother close, the domestic aspect of it all. waiting for him to come home, cooking dinner for our anniversary even though he forgot.

"how about i make it up to you?" charles asked as he opened his eyes back up, the pretty green orbs of his eyes staring lovingly into me, staring lovingly into my bare soul, "what do you want to do?"

"can you just drive me around in your noisy car?" i laugh as he smiled at my joke, all of his cars were sports cars and they were noisy by default. i had always complained about it but i could never be mad at his love for his team, "just spend the night together, driving in the dark of the night while we sit in each other's company."

charles pressed his forehead against mine, he breathed in before nodding, "i can do that for you, do you want to go now?" he left a kiss on my lips before i nodded.

it wasn't long before i was in the passenger seat and he was starting his car up, i hadn't been in this car yet. i knew that he got it as a gift for his win in austin, i had attended the race and he had excitedly told me about the car once we got home in monaco but i never got the chance to sit in it until now.

"this one is a bit noisier, amour. i apologize," charles had said when the engine rumbled to life, i had settled into the seat as he drove off into the night of monaco, his phone had connected to the bluetooth automatically and his playlist was in the background, serving good ambience in the car.

"i love spending time like this, just the two of us, not really driving to anywhere meaningful," i had spoken up, breaking the previous comfortable silence the both of us were in, charles glanced at me before humming a response, eyes back on the road shortly.

monaco was a small city, but i noticed that charles had taken a particularly familiar track, it was the monaco grand prix track, where he had won earlier this year.

"i'm sorry," another apology leaves his lips, i turn my head to look at him, he didn't have to apologize. i forgave him after he got home, but i appreciated it, "i should've paid more attention, i know how important dates are to you. i should've set a reminder."

"i told you that it's okay, i'm not holding anything against you," i tell him softly, his hand instinctively reaches out for my knee and i let him, setting my hand above his as his thumb gently caresses my knee.

the both of us had spent most of that night going in circles, going on the familiar monaco track, it was almost 3am when charles had decided to go back home. the night drive we spent together was nice, it was peaceful. i loved it.

it wasn't long after the both of us had settled into our apartment, getting ready for bed.

i had sat in my vanity, just doing skincare with charles opting to sit on the floor, his head laid on my lap as i went through the steps for my night routine, my hand periodically going down to pat his head.

"we can go for dinner tomorrow, i have nothing planned," charles mumbles, leaving a kiss on my thigh, i nod, dinner was fun, considering that today's was left untouched.

i could feel his head lift up from my thigh, so i looked down and i saw him staring up at me, with all the love in his eyes, i just smiled at him, "what's wrong love?"

"nothing, i just... i'm sorry. i feel bad. i love you— i love us. i just can't believe that i could forget our anniversary so easily like that," charles mumbled, i pet his head again, i had told him countless of times in the car ride that i didn't hold any ill-intent against him for forgetting. his job was demanding, and something like that could've easily slipped his mind.

although i did feel hurt, he's trying to make it up to the best of his abilities now, and that's all i could ask for.

"how many times have i told you to stop apologizing?" i had told him before standing up, he did the same and the both of us made our way to the bed, snuggling up against eachother.

my head was against his chest and his face was in my hair, softly breathing in and out. i could tell he was tired but still went out to drive with me anyway.

"i love you, amour."

"i love you too charles."

"let's go to dinner tomorrow, okay? i'll make it up to you," charles pressed a gentle kiss onto my forehead and i could only hum back in return, i had my eyes closed and i was close to drifting off to sleep considering it was nearing 4 am at this point.

"okay, goodnight. sleep well."

"goodnight to you too mon amour."

[ms-demeanor]

Hi! You’re in the LA area, right? I hope you and your family are okay.

Unrelatedly, I ran across a thread on Mastodon about Proton Mail, which I think you’ve talked about before, and was curious what you make of it / how credible it is: https://code4lib.social/@inthehands@hachyderm.io/113838748729664639

I'm fine thanks! Worried about some friends but I'm good.

I think that thread is not incorrect, but is also bullshit.

Email protocols do not allow for 100% anonymous communication and never will, when Proton was subpoenaed for user data that ended up with some French climate activists getting prosecuted they were transparent about what was requested and updated their logging rules to store less data. *Starting* from the assumption that protonmail is supposed to be totally secure OR sells itself as totally secure is disingenuous.

The great thing about open source software is that you never have to trust a shithead CEO when they talk about what the software does. I get why people are angry at the CEO (I think the CEO is at least half wrong in that he is claiming that Republicans will challenge monopolies, but he's not wrong about the destructive corporatism of the Democratic party even if he is *in essence* wrong about which party is more likely to gesture in the direction of breaking up tech monopolies) but A) the thread says that proton's software is "opaque" and it just. Literally is not. and B) that thread links to another thread talking about how what proton is selling is trust and nope. They don't have to sell trust; you can see what their software does if you choose to investigate it, there's no need for trust when you can verify. What they're selling is transparency and from where i'm standing they are indeed quite transparent.

God. Imagine thinking that a zero trust service is selling trust.

So I think the argument that "protonmail actually isn't as secure as it claims" is bullshit that people bring up whenever they're mad at the company (whether they have legitimate reasons to be mad at the company or not).

For the record: you should never, ever, EVER treat email as a secret. Nothing you do over email is really secret because *the rules that allow email to function as a service* require at least some very sensitive information to be an open part of the protocol.

The Proton page on end to end encryption is *very* clear that it is the contents of your email messages that are encrypted, not your email as a whole, and in the image they use to illustrate this the parts of your email that *cannot* be made private (sender, recipient, subject line, time sent) are shown unencrypted:

They're not subtle about letting people know this. Nor are they quiet about the fact that replies to encrypted emails are not encrypted by default.

So the thread is *technically* correct in that all the security "holes" described reflect reality, but it's correct like saying "McDonald's says that you can eat their food for every meal and you'll put on ten pounds of muscle but ACTUALLY putting on ten pounds of muscle requires a huge amount of dedication and a very careful diet and a lot of resistance exercise" - like, I guess yeah that's what you have to do to put on ten pounds of muscle but where exactly was McDonald's making that claim? Did they actually make that claim or are general statements like "I'm Lovin' It" being misinterpreted in bad faith by people on the internet who are mad at something a CEO did?

So. Like. Yeah the CEO is being a shithead, the social media team made a pretty bad fuckup by doubling down on his shitheadery, the product still works as described, AND the thread discussing all of that is deeply annoying.

So.

I think this thread actually does a great job of explaining why I've never seen a "hackers for social justice" group that has lasted. This reminds me a LOT of when someone tried to say that you shouldn't use firefox because the former CEO was a homophobe. There are a lot of deeply shitty people who have made important contributions to our tech ecosystem and if we threw the baby out with the bathwater every time Notch from Minecraft ended up being Notch from minecraft you'd lock yourself out of a lot of really important tools. And this isn't the same as "buying harry potter merch funds transphobia" because it literally doesn't; especially with open source tools you can continue using the software and cheerfully hate the CEO because A) fuck that guy and B) what the fuck are you going to do about it, guy, this shit's encrypted.

I don't want to get too deeply into a discussion about what is or is not cancel culture, but what I'm seeing in that thread (and what I see coming up every time someone brings up the "But the French Climate Activists!" thing) is an attempt to prioritize political alignment over real-world utility. It's attempting to cancel a *genuinely useful tool* because someone involved in the development is an asshole.

By all means, don't give protonmail money if the CEO's trump-positive comments make you feel unsafe.

However: What service are you going to use that is as accessible and as secure to ensure that you actually *are* safe? There are alternatives out there. Do they actually do more than proton? Are they easier to use? Are they open source? One of the responses to that thread was "yeah, that dude seems shitty; i'd switch to another service if there was another one that I felt was as secure" and that's pretty much what I think the correct attitude is. (If you really, really still want to switch, Tuta has been the broadly recommended alternative to protonmail for years but at this point Proton has a suite of services that some users would need to replace, not just email)

IDK i think shit like this contributes to a lot of the bad kind of security nihilism where people are like "oh no, things will never be secure and even my scrappy little open source product is headed by an asshole, i may as well use google because everything sucks" when they should have the good kind of nihilism which is like "man, there are a lot of assholes out there and they're never going to stop being assholes; i'd better take proactive steps to act like the people who make tech stuff are assholes and operate from a better base of security at the start"

so the takeaways are:

Proton never claimed that anything but the message contents of your e2e encrypted messages are encrypted; as far as these things go, they do a pretty good job of being both secure and easy to use compared to other offerings.

Yeah the CEO is being kind of a shithead and I'm not a huge fan of that.

If you think the CEO is being a shithead and don't want to give the company your money, don't pay for their services, but the CEO being a shithead doesn't actually mean you can't trust their services; their services are literally built on zero trust, if the CEO literally wanted to hunt you down personally he wouldn't be any more able to decrypt your emails than he was before and he wouldn't be any more likely to respond to a subpoena than he was before (proton does respond to subpoenas when required but not otherwise; they've been compelled to produce more data in the last decade than before because law enforcement finally realized who they needed to yell at - one of the bigger issues here is the Swiss courts being more willing to grant subpoenas to international complainants than they were before)

The reason we don't go see hogwarts movies is because doing so gives JK money and that does actual real world harm; using firefox does not have an impact on Brendan Eich's ability to materially change the world. It is very weird that we're in a place where we're treating *open source encryption software that is simple enough for your grandma to use it* as though it is Orson Scott Card.

Sorry i'm still stuck on people thinking that proton, famously open source, is opaque, and that an encryption service with zero trust architecture is selling trust.

Anyway if you've ever got questions about security/privacy/whatever services privacyguides.org is a very reliable source.

OH I FIGURED OUT WHAT WAS BUGGING ME

There are a bunch of people discussing this talking about how the CEO's social media is what has made them feel unsafe and I'm going to be a dick here and say that facts don't care about your feelings.

The CEO saying stupid shit doesn't actually make you unsafe in a situation like this; if the CEO was a violent transphobe or aggressive racist or horribly misogynist that wouldn't actually make any of the users of the product less safe. That's why the SJ hacker stuff I've seen hasn't had much staying power; I think that groups that focus on making people feel included and welcome and safe to be themself within the group run into really big problems when there's a conflict between people in the group FEELING unsafe because of (genuinely important in many ways) cultural signifiers like political alignment and so in order to accommodate that feeling they end up doing things (like some kinds of collaboration/accountability practices, abandoning useful tools, WAY too much personal transparency and radical vulnerability for people who are doing crime shit) that ACTUALLY make them less safe.

The CEO being a shithead may make you feel bad, but moving to a less secure platform may actually be dangerous. One of these things can have a big impact on your life, and it is not the one that is happening on twitter.

Anyway. Email is inherently insecure and if you want a secure messaging tool use Signal.

If you are doing crime shit don't talk about it on the internet and DEFINITELY don't talk about it in any kind of unencrypted platform.

If you are a French climate activist who would like to not get arrested if Tuta gets a subpoena for data, use the email service in concert with tor and be cautious about senders/receivers and subject lines.

[clairedelune-13]

Ok, there is apparently some debate over the duet you find in Solas’ hidden room.

But consider this:

The codex is literally found in the room dedicated to his time with the Inquisition…???

Why would a duet about Mythal be in the Official Inquisition Room???

Besides, we already know Solavellan is Bioware’s in-house canon. It’s the default.

Even so, setting aside that codex entry, given that there is a fucking piano, you cannot tell me that that crazy motherfucker didn’t write symphonies for Lavellan, anyway.

You know, the woman who made him happy to have taken physical form?

That woman that he admitted made him want to spend more time in the physical world rather than the fade?!?!

Damn the codex entry, if he composes music in his off hours, you’re damn skippy he writes little tunes about his vhenan.

The only songs he would write about Mythal is angry emo music.

You know, like every teenager that harbors resentment toward their abusive parent.

[angelbaby191]

Detective

Katsuki Bakugo x Detective! Reader pt.2

part one

The metallic tang of ozone clung to the air, a leftover kiss from one of Bakugo’s earlier explosions. The underground garage echoed with the sound of your boots, steady against the concrete. Katsuki leaned against his battered motorcycle, arms crossed, crimson eyes flicking up when you stopped a few feet away.

"You always lurk in parking lots, or am I just special?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Special? Don’t flatter yourself," he shot back, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His gaze lingered on you, a flash of something unspoken passing through his expression before he turned away, his hands flexing against his crossed arms.

Tonight’s mission had ended clean, too clean. The same cartel pushing quirk enhancers had been one step ahead of you and Bakugo, leaving behind a nearly empty hideout and more questions than answers. Now, the two of you stood in the dim glow of the fluorescent garage lights, an unspoken tension hanging between you.

You crossed your arms, studying him. ���So, this is where you brood when things don’t go your way?”

“Tch.” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t you have paperwork to do, Detective?”

“Plenty,” you replied, leaning casually against a nearby pillar. “But I thought I’d check in first. Something’s eating at you.”

“Nothing’s eating at me,” he growled, pushing off the motorcycle to face you. His broad shoulders squared up as if preparing for a fight. “What’s it to you anyway?”

“You’re tense,” you said, ignoring the rising irritation in his tone. “More than usual. And you’re not exactly subtle.”

He froze, his jaw tightening. You’d hit a nerve, though he was too stubborn to admit it. The two of you had been working together for months now, long enough for you to notice the subtle cracks in his armor. But tonight was different. His usual explosive bravado was laced with something heavier, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“It’s this case, isn’t it?” you pressed. “The enhancers. The overdoses. It’s getting under your skin.”

Bakugo scowled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Yeah, well, it should. This crap’s ruining people’s lives, and those bastards are still out there makin’ a profit. What the hell’s the point of all this if we can’t even stop ‘em?”

The raw frustration in his voice caught you off guard. You’d seen Bakugo angry—hell, that was his default setting—but this was different. This wasn’t just anger; it was guilt.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping closer. “We’ll stop them. It’s not all on you.”

“Feels like it is,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. He turned away, staring at the oil-streaked concrete as if it held the answers he was searching for. “I’m the damn number two hero. If I can’t handle this—”

“Stop.” Your tone was firm, cutting through his self-doubt like a blade. He turned to look at you, his crimson eyes blazing. “You’re not in this alone, Katsuki. We’re a team, remember?”

“Tch. You’re just a cop,” he said, though there was no malice in his words. “A good one, but you don’t get it.”

“Don’t I?” You took another step closer, your boots clicking against the floor. “I see what this stuff does to people. The bodies it leaves behind. The families it tears apart. And yeah, it’s hard. But you’re not gonna fix it all by yourself.”

His gaze softened, the fire in his eyes dimming just a fraction. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the garage lights.

“You’re annoyingly calm, you know that?” he muttered.

“Someone has to be,” you shot back, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Can’t have you blowing up every five minutes.”

His lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, though he quickly hid it behind a scoff. “Whatever.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something vulnerable in the way he avoided your gaze, the way his hands flexed at his sides like he was holding himself back. You’d never seen him like this before, and it made your chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.

“Katsuki,” you said, your voice softer now. “What’s really going on?”

He hesitated, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he clenched his fists, his gaze darting away.

“It’s you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“It’s you,” he repeated, louder this time. He turned to face you fully, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something else—something deeper. “You drive me crazy, alright? You’re always so damn calm, so put together, like nothing can touch you. And it pisses me off because—because I care.”

Your breath hitched. The words hung in the air, raw and unpolished, but undeniably real. For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said.

“I care,” he continued, his voice rising with each word. “And it scares the hell outta me, okay? Because you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever worked with. You’re—you’re different.”

The confession hit you like one of his explosions, leaving your mind spinning. This was Bakugo Katsuki, the brash, unrelenting pro hero who never backed down from a fight. And here he was, standing in front of you, vulnerable and exposed in a way you’d never thought possible.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his ears burning red. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, alright? I’m just saying it because you deserve to know.”

A slow smile spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

He blinked, his scowl deepening. “What? Just like that? What if you said no?”

“Then I’d be an idiot,” you replied, stepping closer until you were almost within arm’s reach. “But for the record, I wouldn’t have.”

His eyes searched yours, uncertainty flickering in their crimson depths. Finally, he let out a huff, crossing his arms. “Fine. Then… you wanna go out or somethin’?”

Your smile widened. “Thought you’d never ask, Dynamight.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but you caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As the two of you walked toward the exit, the tension between you eased, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

For all his explosions and bravado, Bakugo Katsuki had a way of making things unforgettable. And tonight, as the crisp night air greeted you, you couldn’t help but think: maybe this assignment wasn’t so bad after all.

Tags:

@nuo0n

[magicwhiskers29]

What's really interesting to me about Prime Shadow is that he reads as actively trying to sympathise with Sonic in s3e1. A lot of people have talked about the constant saves all episode and yes, of course. There's also something to be said about this Shadow's sense of superiority not restricting him to believing he's just physically better (This one is actually willing to run, for one), but I really want to talk about his expressions, in this episode.

He starts the episode angry. Pretty much of course -- this tends to be Prime Shadow's default. His resting face already looks pretty angry, although I'd say his expressions when he's giving Sonic his "I told you so" are angrier than usual. His motivation is still about saving what of his home can be saved, and Sonic has just messed that up again, in trusting Nine when Shadow specifically said not to.

I don't think Sonic was wrong exactly to trust someone who looks and can act so much like someone who would never betray him -- it's naïve, but understandable. But to Shadow, it's naïve and foolish. Last season already established that Shadow doesn't have anyone he's close to, so it's going to be hard for him to understand, especially when he could sense Nine's betrayal a mile away. So he angers, and talks harshly and sternly to Sonic.

But look:

SHADOW: We need to leave this world.

SONIC: You don't have to tell me twice.

When Sonic actually listens to him and runs when he says to, he's surprised. He's used to Sonic having his own agenda and not listening, because that's Sonic's biggest flaw in Prime. Sonic quips that he doesn't need the reminder, but yes, yes he usually does, and will still do in this case.

Shadow understands Sonic for his flaws, for better or worse, so he's surprised when they don't act up. (Yet, anyway)

So he initially attempts to offer compassion, when Sonic sees the Ghost Hill inprints of his friends. He doesn't immediately go back to stern yelling and angry expressions; he offers out a hand and tries to understand more. He's not seeing Sonic's flaws for liabilities against him -- he's attempting to work around them for both of them.

He angers again when Sonic doesn't listen and continues to insist of saving the Ghost Hill imprints, but look at the way he talks:

SHADOW: No! They can't be saved. Think about your real friends, the ones who still have a chance. If you want to help them, we need to get out of here.

He doesn't sound that angry at first. A little desperate, maybe, but he doesn't sound angry until his last sentence. His frustration's building at Sonic not listening, and he's having to reason against his own motivation. Does Shadow want Sonic's friends back? Maybe! We don't know his relationship with any of them in Prime. But we do know Shadow wants to get home more than he wants to save them.

It seems then to irritate him to have to use this line of reasoning, but he's not necessarily angry at Sonic for having to use it -- remember, he expected something like this. And clearly does understand Sonic's flaws and motivations; it's just that this time, he's not seeing them for why Sonic would be a liability to him, or why he's better suited to save Green Hill than Sonic. This time, he uses his knowledge of them to work around Sonic and keep his help.

He could technically leave Sonic behind at this point. He doesn't know that Sonic himself has actual value until Nine implies what he's found out about Sonic's shard energy later in the episode. If he keeps Sonic with him, he only runs the risk of ending up in the same place as the end of last season, Sonic having made the same mistakes. At least, that's how he could look at it.

But he does clearly care for Sonic. We know their dynamic is odd to others, in Prime. What we hear about their fights at the start of s1 implies that they are frequent, and also that both parties enjoy them. For better or worse (again), Shadow seems to now be aware that Sonic is part of home for him, and he doesn't want to lose Sonic. (a similar attitude Sonic had towards him at the start if s2)

When talking about Nine's betrayal, Shadow's anger is not directed at Sonic. The easiest way to see that is simply that he's not looking at Sonic whilst talking about it, but I think you can also see it in the way he talks about their revenge. When he says, "And he will pay for it.", he sounds like he's attempting to reassure Sonic.

It's worth noting, of course, that Shadow has never really understood Sonic and Nine's bond. He couldn't understand why Sonic trusted him, and he won't understand why Sonic wants to reason with him in the future, so he does think that assuring Sonic of their success in what he perceives as a big step towards their goal helps.

We can also see him being not visibly annoyed at Sonic messing around, in both of these scenes. He's not hostile about Sonic's ribbing about saving him, or his silly teasing about the robot version looking like both of them. He's used to it. It seems he maybe even likes it, if not at least tolerates it. He likes, or at least tolerates, being around Sonic. It's just that his default for getting points across, or when faced with something he doesn't fully understand, or when provoked, is anger. He is not without his flaws too.

He angers again when Sonic insists again on something he sees as futile -- reasoning with Nine. But as established, he doesn't understand quite why Sonic cares for Nine. He seems to make the same mistake Nine himself does in believing that Sonic only cares about him because of Tails, which is not true. He's biased towards Nine because of Tails, but we've seen him be excited about teaching Nine new things that Tails wouldn't need! He does like Nine for Nine, even if there is a flaw in there of him seeing Nine as an extension of Tails.

And then the reveal scene of Sonic as the final shard. After Nine implies something else has prism energy, we first see Shadow stare slightly surprised at Sonic. I read this a quieter realisation. He knows the connection between the energy and Sonic instantly, and looks at Sonic in concern as he thinks.

Then he makes eye contact with Nine, who only confirms his suspicions with something of a taunting glare. This is when he realises why this is important, and that he is definitely right. And then, and only then, does he anger. Not at Sonic again, but back at Nine.

There's a sort of protectiveness to it, this time. There's no "Sonic, you didn't realise this before!?", only an urgency to get Sonic out of there. Not both of them, just Sonic. He wanted both of them out when he had a choice about it, but now he sees Sonic as something valuable to both him and Nine. He wants to save Sonic because Sonic is home, but as he understands it, Nine wants Sonic for power and to jeopardise what Shadow himself wants. And so now, he sacrifices himself.

He knows that Sonic will keep trying to save everyone, and for better or worse (again again), he's who they'll all need to rely on. Honestly, Shadow sacrificing himself is a pretty big display of trust, for him. He doesn't have many other options, but... We know he believes in Sonic's way of finding another way. Rather than losing time trying that for both of them, he trusts in Sonic to find it himself, like he always does.

[chondrichthyes-x-mantodea]

A post of unfiltered hatred: how my day went

Wake up.

See videos of women in Afghanistan crying due to being told they can not go into the medical field and help women.

Work on my history class where I read about the mistreatment of women. Impressive women who know 3 languages are reduced to beautiful wives.

See I have a reply to my comment from one of the vomit inducing remains of what we used to call men. To preface the post was about self reported data from women, essentially mocking female voices (and I said "remind me how male emotions aren't taken serious").

In its comment, it starts crying about "male emotions ARENT taken seriously by EITHER men or women 🥺😢 I'm tired of women acting like they're moral and empathetic when they only care about THEMSELVES".

I remember how how liberal feminism is massively catered to these sperm donors. I remember seeing those women crying. I remember the content of the post that he decided to call WOMEN selfish bitches on....

Oh, it's all very poetic yet terrible. The sheer volume these things cry and moan about not being cared for while they constantly shoot women in the leg. No dipshit, you, of whom you title the "provider", are just angry you aren't the SOLE DEFAULT anymore. That's the whole reason humans made up this false nature. Can we PLEASE kill these pests? I'm actually so serious. Their vocabulary must be drastically different than human vocabulary. I guess in this species, leech translates to provider?

My Tumblr has seen me become gender critical and join the 4b movement. It's funny how quick things change when you stop deluding yourself. I unapologetically hate these bloated, unsatisfied black holes. Disgusting pieces of shit. And the fact they can see women being raped and dismembered and have the NERVE to get mad at me more than they get mad at THAT proves how serious their emotions are.

[i-willstealyourtoes]

Headcanons for Sniper tf2 x Reader where Sniper doesn't connect much with anyone else but reader, please :3

Oooo this one sounds interesting ^^ I'll try my best!

Sniper only connecting with the reader

- As we all know, Sniper is...

- Not very sociable

- He keeps to himself mostly, talking to the other mercs but not really anyone else

- This is both out of choice but also due to his attitude(?)

- Sniper is for sure an introvert, and feels more comfortable alone with nature than in a crowded party with friends and strangers

- But even if he liked social events, he'd have troubles anyway

- He's not very... friendly

- He's never really fit in with most people, and he's come to terms with that

- He talks to the mercs, but that's more just because they have to be good with each other

- Although he does like them, he still prefers to be alone mostly

- But you? You're an exception

- He doesn't know why, but he just... connects with you so easily?

- Usually he feels quite wary of people he doesn't know, but he actually takes a liking to you quite quick

- You don't seem to mind his quirks, which is a shock to him since as when he was a kid he was constantly made fun of for it

- At first, he doesn't really come up to you and start a conversation, but you notice how he defaults to sticking with you in group situations

- If you ask, he might get a little embarrassed

- "What? Oh, uh... you're the closest to me..."

- He obviously meant it as in, proximity, but the other what is true as well

- Once you hang out more, he will invite you to hang out, and if you like it, he'll let you join him while he does his usual routine any time!

- If anyone asks about his behaviour, he'll simply grumble and walk away, clearly embarrassed

- But even if people tease him about it, he'll still come up to you at any point

- His favorite thing about you is that sometimes, you don't even have to talk to each other, you can just sit with each other

- If he ever feels angry or sad, he'll just sneak up to you, but won't talk about it

- He just wants to sit with you (don't tease him about it he'll just close off)

- He might be a little cold at the very beginning, but he quickly starts to hang out with you more than the other mercs

[oppropro]

Chapter 2 of my fanfic

I am so happy to receive the positive feedback on my story inspired by @jttw-monkeybusiness. I had a hard time writing this chapter as it is from the perspective of different pilgrims. I want their thoughts to be believable and true to their nature, while also being true to @celestialkiri 's vision of these characters in her AU. I got a bit overly ambitious with this chapter and had to cut it short; the rest of the story will continue in a 3rd chapter. This has a better narrative flow.

So without further ado; I present chapter 2 of Monkey Business based on the creations of @jttw-monkeybusiness all credit goes to her.

********

CHAPTER 2- Here's your sign

            Sun Wukong, King of Mount Huaguo, Great Sage equal to heaven, was losing his patience. His master, the monk Tripitaka once again avoided near death thanks to the valiant efforts of his disciple, Sun Wukong. The very same disciple he chose to ignore when he warned the monk of the dangers of the demon hoard that had laid a trap to kill and eat the monk. A trap so obvious even Pigsy should have seen coming. That is, if Pigsy could ever think with his brain and not his stomach.

            And what thanks does Wukong get for saving his master and his pig-headed brother? Another lecture on how violence does not solve every problem. Well, violence certainly solved that problem. Besides, if his master had simply listened to him in the first place, they could have easily avoided the demon’s trap and Wukong wouldn’t have to resort to violence.

            “Hardships we face on our pilgrimage are simply a test of faith, and it is through our faith that we will ultimately persevere.” Monk Tripitaka spoke in a slow and deliberate manner.

            “Well then start showing more faith in me!” Wukong replied.

            “This journey is not just about you.”

            “And yet it is I, once again, coming to everyone’s rescue.”

            “I appreciate that you were able to rescue us, but that does not change the fact that you do not get to dictate the path we must follow, or default to wanton violence as a solution to every obstacle.”

            “Those demons were going to eat you and the pig alive! They weren’t even coy about it! If everyone just listened to me, it wouldn’t have even been an obstacle.”

            “We cannot avoid every danger, or burden, or obstacle we face on our journey.” Tripitaka’s tone conveyed a clear message: this conversation was over. “Even if such a challenge were to fall from the heavens and land directly on us. We will face whatever lies before us head on and accept the fate that has been ordained by Buddha.”

            “Well then, Master, you can find somebody else to save your ass because I am tired of being the only one around here who-” Wukong’s sentence was cut short as, apropos of the monk’s declaration, the heavens had opened up and a strange blonde woman fell upon the angry monkey’s back.

********

            Sandy, Pigsy, and Bai Long stood at the side of a clearing and watched their brother and their master argue back and forth. They had seen this exact same scenario played out before; it was safe for them to assume that it wasn’t going to be the last. The novelty of these fights had worn off and now they simply wished they would get to the point where Wukong would learn his lesson about self-control, humility, and acceptance so they could move on with their journey. For all the talk about other people slowing him down, Wukong sure liked to waste time arguing moot points.

            However, a girl falling from the heavens and landing on their elder brother’s back was new. They and the monk stood agog staring at the unforeseen spectacle before them: the woman had hair the colour of summer sun, and her clothes were foreign. The sack that she carried on her back had fallen off, that too was made of some strange and heavenly material not found on earth.

            Her face had landed in the dirt, her legs tangled amongst the limbs of Sun Wukong, and she moaned as she cradled her temples in her arms, nursing whatever wound she incurred from her less than graceful decent from heaven.

            Tripitaka was the first to break free from his spell. Still unable to process what had just happened, he rushed to the side of the stranger in an attempt to help her sit up an regain her composure. Pigsy followed his master’s lead and the two of them were able to prop the woman up and assess her for any injuries: some bumps and scratches, all superficial. That didn’t rule out the risk of any serious, or even deadly, head wounds.

            “Little sister, are you hurt?” the monk asked. “Do you understand me? Can you open your eyes?”

            The woman replied with a whimper, as she slowly blinked her eyes several times trying to purge her tears. Pigsy watched her blue eyes dilate and constrict in an attempt to regain focus. They had never seen a foreigner before. He knew that humans in other countries looked different, and that they were bound to meet foreigners on their journey to India, but the difference in eye colour was striking. This wasn’t something to dwell on, however; the woman needed help.

            “Good, good, little sister, you’re going to be alright. Let us help you. Just keep breathing nice and slowly.” Pigsy spoke to the woman in a low, slow voice and began to exaggerate his breath in so that the stranger might mimic him.

            “HOW ABOUT THE TWO OF YOU QUIT FAWNING OVER THAT STUPID SKY WOMAN AND HELP YOUR BROTHER OUT!”

            Wukong’s voice hit the stranger like a slap to the face. She gasped as her eyes widened and she finally focused on her surroundings. Pigsy was familiar with the expression on the stranger’s face: shock, confusion, fear; a primal fight or flight reaction that all humans experience when face to face with a demon.

            The stranger’s breath became quick and shallow, Pigsy could sense her heart rate bounding. There may still have been hope that Tripitaka may calm her down, but as she looked down at his elder brother, the demon monkey trapped between her legs, flashing his fangs as he scowled at the woman, he knew what was about to happen.

            He let go of the stranger as she screamed and began kicking wildly at Wukong until they were finally untangled. As the terrified woman struggled on all fours to get up and make a mad dash into the forest, Wukong jumped up with an unwarranted sense of accomplishment. Congratulations you stupid monkey; you successfully scared a woman.

            Tripitaka went to mount Bai Long. “Sandy. Pigsy. Please, help me look for our new companion. Monkey, you stay here and watch over our camp.”

            Whatever pride Wukong felt fled his body as soon as his master spoke. “What? Why are you chasing after her? She means nothing to us.”

            “Where you not paying attention to what our master had said?” Pigsy spat.

            “Yes. Even if such a challenge were to fall from the heavens and land directly on us. Well, I just passed buddha’s test. I overcame that challenge and didn’t even resort to violence. I guess I have learned my lesson now and we can all continue on our way. Oh thank you great and wise buddha! You have made me a better monkey.”

            “You have learned nothing,” Tripitaka snapped. “Now we have to go find this woman lest a fate worse than crashing into you befalls her.”

            The monkey growled. His blood was beginning to boil.

            “Then I will bring this challenge back to you, master.”             Wukong took off in the same direction as the woman before the monk could object. beginning to boil. He raced through the canopy following the stranger’s trail. The path she left was easy enough to follow. Even if it wasn’t glaringly obvious, Wukong could smell her: her scent; her blood; her fear. He could hear her: her ragged breath; her racing heart; her pitiful cries for help. The great monkey king would catch up to this pathetic whelp in no time and return her to his master so he can figure out what he wants to do with her. But before he brought her to his master, Wukong had some questions of his own to ask the woman. At the very least, this stupid woman owed Sun Wukong an apology.

[roryacker]

I love hybrid AUs. I dunno what it is, my current theory is it's just a weird autism trait, I won't get into that for now, but I just really like the idea of taking humans and giving them animal traits and instincts. I have. SO many headcanons lemme tell you.

I like to think of hybrids as a good mix of animalistic and human in behavior, most of the appeal for me is the behavior so I mean. That's a given.

so here's a bunch of my ideas for a Hybrid AU :) I'll probably utilize this for writing about them later on

• I like to think of Soap as a rough collie hybrid. Fluffy, herding dog, Scottish, and I feel like their fur lends well to his lil mohawk thing he's got goin on.

• Absolute menace. 100% he herds anyone and everyone he can get his hands on, primarily prey hybrids. Gaz is one of his most common herding targets, he tries to herd Ghost sometimes but usually gets nipped at for it, and Price is exempt from such instincts.

• Gaz is a deer hybrid, I think he'd look cool with antlers, specifically a red deer. Bucks are strong, man. He just gives me ungulate vibes most of the time idk what it is.

• He usually tolerates Soap's herding. :)

• Price could be lots of things. I've found that I'm actually quite fond of him just being a normal dude who sees the value in hybrids (and treating them like people) so I'll probably go with that. Otherwise I suppose another dog or something could work. Rotts are big and angry but also have a very unintimidating smile so maybe them? They're super good working dogs so. Still I'll mostly stick with the human idea.

• Ghost always depends on what I'm looking for really. Sometimes Wolf if I want the wild vibe, sometimes Dog because he just reminds me of a grumpy working dog. Definitely a GSD hybrid. I do prefer writing him as a dog hybrid anyways so I'll stick with that.

• Shepherds are technically a herding breed, but Ghost lacks any herding instincts and finds Soap's irritating. Best-case they're useful for gathering up the team in a mission to prevent unnecessary separation, though, and it's amusing to watch him weave around folks barking and snapping his teeth at people to get them to stay in line. Sometimes Ghost tolerates it, and sometimes he nips at him to get him to stop.

• I feel like outside of combat Ghost and Soap have a habit of wrestling. Like how real dogs tend to, yknow. You leave them alone for one second and suddenly someone's arm is in someone else's mouth, there's growling, it looks like they're fighting, and the only thing saying otherwise is the wagging tails and the lack of any blood or fur anywhere. It's how they bond

• Price definitely made an effort to not get any hunting hybrids because he'd rather not have infighting thanks to Gaz looking huntable, thank you. It's not even worry that Gaz would get hurt given the fact bucks pack such a punch, he just doesn't want to deal with all that tension.

• Feral, Domestic, Tame, and Wild all mean different things. A Domestic hybrid can be Feral and a Wild hybrid can be Tame, etc. It's mostly rooted in real-life terms, think feral housecats.

• Feral refers to temperament and handleability, it's a term that can change over time based on treatment. Tame is the same but flipped; so a Feral hybrid is harder to handle and acts more like their animal counterpart due to a lack of (positive) human contact, while Tame hybrids seem more intelligent in comparison just due to being easier to handle and better at communicating. Neither are fully unable to communicate by default, but personal traits can mean either are, if that makes any sense.

• Wild vs. Domestic is entirely about the species; a wolf or lion hybrid is wild, while a dog or housecat hybrid is domestic. This one's as simple as finding out if the species they're considered a hybrid of is domesticated or not. If they are, Domestic, if not, Wild. This term cannot change over time, but like their real-animal counterparts, Wild hybrids can be domesticated over time via selective breeding (it won't do much, but it is possible) and Domestic hybrids can slowly regain Wild traits only if multiple generations are exposed to conditions where they need it. So, selective breeding, but backwards. This practice is heavily discouraged as it just leads to unnecessary confusion and hybrid breeding is considered pretty cruel.

• "Hybrids" are not a literal hybrid of human and animal, because that's just kind of weird, but humans with a mutation that closely resembles certain animals. This phenomenon has only been properly recorded as of late, maybe a couple centuries, but there are implications that it might have existed earlier in history and just been ignored, seen as taboo, etc etc.

• There's a few different rules to which hybrids get what treatment. It's not uncommon for any and all hybrids to have a handler, and one handler can be in control of multiple hybrids, but they're not required to live together, and it's more like an emergency contact/trainer/guardian than an owner or something of the sort.

• It is, however, different for Wild and Feral hybrids. Tame Domestic hybrids are not required to have a handler, but Feral Domestic hybrids are at least supposed to have a trainer or therapist or something of the sort. With Wild hybrids it depends on the specific species, smaller Wilds are usually fine, especially if they seem harmless, herbivores tend to be exempt due to stereotypes, and most omnivores are fine, but medium-large carnivores and all Feral hybrids are required to have a handler and in some places required to live with them and be accompanied by them to most places. Wild carnivore hybrids are usually considered more dangerous, also due to stereotypes.

• Again, in certain places, Wild carnivores are expected to wear a muzzle and be properly handled (physical restraint in the form of a leash or the handler just being close enough and able to handle them), but this is mostly a private property/commercial spaces thing that depends on the exact place. Think like how a Petco or something (ew) might let you bring in your little dog or something, maybe a cat, but probably won't let you bring in a big rottweiler or something of the sort, depending on the location. Or how in some locations specific stores will let you bring in a pet as long as they're handled well, but others only allow in service dogs.

• This is very intentionally inhumane, as given how the real world functions I feel like yes we would base how we treat folks with carnivore-oriented traits on how we personify those animals in our minds. Going further I also imagine some places are permitted to bar certain species entirely, and species that are viewed as "unappealing" and violent (hyenas, coyotes and maybe jackals, probably foxes and raccoons in some areas, etc etc) tend to show up on this list a lot.

• Probably lots of folks advocating against this, but it sticks around like a tick because plenty of people are just little cowards about it and don't want the change. I imagine most herbivore hybrids are also against it because what's stopping them from being mistreated in the same way next, so it's mostly a non-hybrid thing.

• How much someone resembles their real-animal counterpart depends on content! This is a term seen in some real-world hybrids, most often I see it in wolfdogs as they're very easily hybridized and their offspring can breed. However, rather than being based on that, because again they're not actually hybrids it's more of a form of mimicry, it's based on the genetics deciding how much of their species they look and act like. I like to think there's a specific set of genes that causes this, and 1-2 traits that factor into how the traits look and how the behavior and instincts develop. Someone who's relatively low-content doesn't look much like the species if at all, and doesn't act much like them, while someone who's high-content will have a lot of the animal's traits and are more likely to fall into that Feral state due to how their brain is built. It isn't set in stone, but more of a big scale.

• Most of TF141 are pretty in the middle of that scale. Ghost is the highest content, Soap isn't far behind, and Gaz is about in the middle, maybe a bit below.

• Nikolai could be a human and I like the idea of normal guy Nikolai BUT he's russian, and to that I suggest: Russian Wolfhound, aka the Borzoi, because I love Borzois they're the best. And greyhounds but Borzoi is a Russian breed :) their fur reminds me a bit of his hair as well

• I just. Really like Borzois, man. I was SO excited when they started gaining popularity a while back, I know it was because of a silly joke but screw it man!! They got more love!!! Smooch smooch Borzois my beloved. They're a sighthound breed as well, and honestly, I feel like that just fits him somehow.

I have tons more but I'll leave it here because I got stuff to do, rambling over take my funky animalfolk and go

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."

"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.

"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"

Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.

A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.

"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.

Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.

"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.

He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"

"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.

Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.

"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

It turned out that Jaskier's idea of helping was having the girl perch on Geralt's shoulders and scan the top of the crowd for her father while he stood playing silly little dittys to keep her from crying again. Geralt holding onto her shins lightly and trying to ignore the mess being made on his cloak by muddy feet.

"I see him! Papa! Papa!"

Geralt tightened his grip slightly as her weight shifted with her frantic waving. Waiting until he was clearly making his way over to them before setting her gently back on the ground.

"Mika! Oh thank the God's." He turned his attention to the two men, his eyes widened as he took Geralt in fully.

"You're-"

"Hmmm."

Geralt tried to hide his surprise as the man grasped his hand in a firm if slightly clammy grip. "My thanks Wolf. I swear, if I went home without her my wife would make sure I shared the same fate as that Hag from the song of yours." He said, smiling awkwardly at his own attempt at humour, "Come on Mika, say goodbye. Oh, here."

He reached into his satchel and pulled something out. Geralt could smell warm sugar as he handed it over. "It's not much, but I don't know a single person who doesn't like cake. I could do with cutting down myself." He said, patting his own slight paunch before taking his daughters hand with a final "Thank you." Mika turning back to give a wave which they both returned before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What?" Geralt asked as they left the town. The bard hadn't stopped grinning at him like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Nothing. It just, the timing and everything. Seems Destiny agreed with me for once. The songs are making a difference."

"Hmm." Geralt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that." Jaskier said, swatting Geralt in the side as he unwrapped the package Mika's father had given them, "You saw as well as I did there were plenty of town guards around but she went to you. She wanted you. Oooh, maybe this would be good for a new song. The Gentle Wolf! Yes I- hey! "

"No cake for you until you stop." Geralt stated, popping a piece into his own mouth to hide his smile.

[theflowerrooms]

To Request • Miguel’s Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Running Red

Miguel O’Hara x spider-person!reader (gender neutral)

Summary; Miguel was a fair leader and a fair lover, never did he blend the two titles, never had he taken his anger from work on you, until now.

wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, arguing, Miguel is a bit aggressive, insults, hurt/comfort, very slight ATSV spoilers

Miguel had three different modes. The silent, brooding kind, seemingly displeased at all moments. That was his default mode, the one most everyone saw, the one most often associated with his name. And then there was his stressed mode, where he would rant, and rant. A loud string of blurred Spanglish that was intelligible to anyone but himself as he paced back and forth anxiously. That wasn’t seen by too many, mostly yourself, Jess and sometimes Peter. Finally, there was the gentle touches that would lead to more, soft smiles and sweet words. Intimate kisses, goosebumps, and whispered ‘I love you’s’. That was reserved for you

This was new, whatever this was. Silent for a while, and then loud venting, eyes glowing scarlet, slight lisping because he was so angry he couldn’t retract his fangs. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand, he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders. But then again, that wasn’t something you could ever fully understand. You’d been by Miguel’s side for nearly all of it, but you’d never been in his place.

“Miguel, baby, please try to calm down-” “No!” He snapped loudly, cutting you off faster than you could process it. That only made it worse. Miguel was a pessimist, and you were a mediator. You’d defended Gwen- and Miles, every chance you could. You didn’t think they were entirely in the wrong.

You reached a hand out to him and he only jerked away from it, that felt like a blow to the chest. He was acting like you were against him, like you were the opposing force and you weren’t, it was stressing you out.

You sighed and chewed your lip. “None of this is Gwen’s fault, you know this.” You pulled your arms closer to body, making yourself seem smaller, but still not backing down from the conversation-turned-argument.

He dragged a palm down his face and turned slightly to look away from you. “I was an idiot. I took a chance on her. I was an idiot for taking a chance on her.” He growled, fingers twitching at his sides.

“You took a chance on all of us- You took a chance on me-” your voice shook slightly and he cut you off quickly. “I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.” He spat, voice laced with venom and resentment.

Your arms dropped to your sides and your lip wobbled. You wanted to yell and fight, you wanted to be angry. But you were only sad, hurt, more insecure than you’d ever been in front of Miguel.

The features of his face, aged with stress, softened just slightly, his tense shoulders sloped as he realized what he’d said, how it affected you.

The image of your partner in front of you blurred as your eyes welled with tears. He had yet to say anything else and you weren’t going to stand there and wait, so you turned on your heel. You wouldn’t let him see you cry.

He watched you walk away and you could feel his eyes on your back. Part of you was grateful he didn’t put up a fight against you walking away but a bigger part of you wished he’d apologized immediately, or begged you to stay there with him and explain that he didn’t really think you’re stupid. He watched you walk away instead. Did he really think you were stupid?

✽-

You had no interest in staying in his universe, and your own universe wasn’t quite an option. That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor of Mayday’s nursery in Peter’s world. She squished her little head against yours, wild hair tickling your cheeks which were soft from crying. ‘Baby-love. Cures all types of sad.’ Peter had said. You had to admit he wasn’t all that wrong.

“Do you feel like talkin’ yet? Or…” Peter offered, leaning against the doorframe with two cups of coffee in his hands.

You smiled weakly. “Thank you for letting me borrow your baby.” You squeezed Mayday in a gentle hug. He took it as permission to hand you a coffee and sit on the floor with you, which you were entirely fine with.

It was quiet for a bit. You sipped your coffee and pulled your knees to your chest as Peter’s baby clumsily made her way over to him. He stared at you, his eyes kind and inviting. “Peter we’ve known each other for a good while, worked together a ton. Have you ever thought of me as stupid?” Your voice wavered toward the end of the question.

Peter tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that? It’s been an honour to fight alongside you. You’re so intelligent, you’re a wonderful teammate and a wonderful person. You’re far from stupid. I mean- Obviously. Miguel wouldn’t give you that much responsibility if he thought you were stupid.” He laughed softly, but the mood shifted and his demanour had entirely changed. He must've sense of change in your expression when he said Miguel's name. "Did Miguel say something to make you think that? Did he call you stupid?" He looked mad, and although it rose your anxiety, you knew none of it was directed at you.

“He said he wouldn’t have taken a chance on me if he’d known I turned out this way. ‘So stupid’ he said. I’m not sure if he meant taking a chance on me was stupid or I’m stupid but-”

“Either way.” Peter cut you off, finishing your sentence. He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have said that, Miguel doesn’t think you’re stupid.” He scoffed and you only shrugged. “Don’t let what he said make you think that. He doesn’t think you’re stupid- and even if he does, you aren’t. Understand?” He rose his eyebrows and you nodded with a sympathetic smile. While you loved Peter, and valued his opinion, you weren’t worried about what he thought right now. Miguel’s words were replaying in your head.

‘I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.’

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

✽-

You’d spend the night at Peter and MJ’s that night, in their world. Alone in their guest bed rather than wrapped safely in Miguel’s arms like you were used to.

You were mostly over it now, having gone over everything in your head again and again, with each word Miguel said repeating in your mind. You’d mentally given him a million excuses, just desperate to be over it so you could forgive him and then everything would be fine.

Of course you had yet to forgive him, and nothing was fine. You weren’t sure if you could sleep in a bed so cold and lonely.

“Amor?” Miguel’s voice startled you and you scrambled, sitting up in the bed. You hadn’t heard or sensed him anywhere nearby. Did Peter let him in? “Can we talk? Please?” He spoke monotone, straight faced. This was the cold, emotionless Miguel that others were used to seeing. For a moment you worried he was still angry with you, that this front was to hide emotions he was feeling because he was about to break up with you- for being so stupid. Though, would he have addressed you that way if that was the case?

You nodded and chewed your lip. “We can talk.” You wanted to return the straight, monotone voice he'd given you, but you stumbled over your words. You wondered if your eyes were still puffy from crying- and that's when you noticed his were too. He’d clearly been crying. You’d never seen Miguel cry before, you were witnessing entirely new parts of him today.

He sat on the side of the bed and rested a large palm on your shin through the blanket. “I am so- I shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry. I do not think you’re stupid.” He kept eye contact with you. It was important to him that you understood how serious this was to him. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I’m so grateful to have you by my side- and I- you’re not stupid-”

“Miguel- I’m not mad at you, you have so much on your plate, it’s okay-”

“It is not. I should not have said that to you- I didn’t mean to say it like that. I don’t think you’re stupid, I think I have been stupid, I could have prevented all this and I didn’t.” His voice shook. He was showing you insecurity and vulnerability; two things he’d made you feel already. You appreciated what he was doing for you right now and you understood how hard it was for Miguel to give himself to you like this.

You moved to your knees and took his face in your hands, smoothing your thumb over the worry lines between his eyebrows. “It’s not your job to save the world Miguel. I think it’s incredible that you’ve made it your job, but still it doesn’t have to be. You haven’t done anything wrong, and you haven’t been stupid.” You pouted slightly and let him kiss the pout off of you. One kiss releasing all the tension and stress from you both.

You rested your forehead against his and then two of you stayed like that for a while; breathing each other in, basking in the closeness. “You really don’t think I’m stupid?” You asked, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a smirk.

“No, no, lo siento carino, lo siento- te amo, mucho mucho mucho-” He rambled in a tone similar to baby-talk, peppering kisses all over your face until you were giggling and pushing his big head away.

“Te amo! I love you too!” You laughed, leaning against him. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again.” You still had a soft smile on your face, but you were being serious and he knew.

A kiss to the top of your head “Never.” He replied. You hummed, head against his chest and palm against his lean torso.

“Good. Because if you do, I’ll turn evil and start causing problems by tearing holes in all kinds of universes. And Jess and Peter won’t help you stop me because they think I’m cooler than you.” You joked and he fake laughed.

Gently, with faux annoyance, he pushed you away from him. “Is there anything I can do now to persuade you not to do that in the future?” He inquired, leaning toward you.

“Hold me?”

You weren’t doomed to sleep in the cold, desolate bed all on your own anymore. Gifted with Miguel’s arm thrown over your body and holding you tightly, he pressed his nose lightly into your hair and his heart beating against your back. You hoped Peter wouldn’t mind Miguel having a surprise sleepover.

He didn’t mind at all.

[random-fandom1984]

Hey there

Could I please get some Platonic Yandere G1 Soundwave with a teen reader?

Thanks

Since you didn't specify what the reader's gender is, or you just don't care -- by default -- the gender is a girl. Sorry for my male audience.

Clinging to Sanity, or Embrace the Fantasy

It was nighttime. A full moon lighting up the sky, accompanied by the blissing, shining stars. Pushing up the window in your bedroom, allowing the sounds of muffled arguing to echo outside. You dropped a bag, pieces of metal clanging from within upon compact. You climbed out, your hands gripping the edge of the window before letting go; it was only a small drop.

Grabbing the bag's handles and pulling it on your shoulder as you ran. This was almost becoming a weekly thing now. Your parents would argue for god knows how long ever since you were just a little girl. And when they're not, and you're alone with one of them, they'd talk and rant to you about how much they hate the other, like you're the psychiatrist and not their child.

You would secretly leave and head to your own place of Zen, your place of work that's open 24/7, where you would repair things that people would leave you. It can be a boom box, a radio, a record player, the popular cellular phone, even a cassette player. The company you work for is a big business that they give their employees their own offices/work rooms that are reinforced with sound-proof walls, for both privacy and not to disturb their fellow workers.

Walking down the sidewalk with only the streetlamps guiding your path; the cool, crisp air breezing past you in such a calming way, slowly pushing the fresh memory of the angry, loud shouts from your parents from your mind. You wished your older sister was there, but she's off living her freedom away from that damned house. They haven't even called after they left, not even to you. You saw the neon-glowing sign of the workplace up ahead.

Pushing the door open, a familiar ring-ding echoing loudly to get whoever was working at the receptionist desk's attention. The warm air-conditioning hitting my skin, making me shiver from the stark contrast of the outside. Behind the counter was Vannessa, dyed rainbow tips in her hair, heavy mascara and eyeliner on her face, accompanied by two small, light blue bows, with white bunny heads with "X"'s over the eyes, on both sides of her head (Inspired by teenager! Vanessa made by @chloesimaginationthings, lovely job btw). She's fun to hang out with if she isn't in a bad mood.

She glanced up, greeted me with a small wave, a corner of her lips perking up before it returned to its bored, neutral expression, putting her attention back on her phone. I walked past her and down the corridor where the walls are lined with doors to different offices, a couple bathrooms, and a janitor's closet. Once you approached your door, the backdoor was slammed open and entered Jerry with a box of wares. "FOUNDER'S FRIDAY!!" He happily shouted.

"Hell, yeah!" You exclaimed, this day couldn't possibly be any better. You loved Founder's Friday's and so does about every other employee in this building. It's been around ever since Jerry joined, which was a long time before you were hired. It would be a chance of luck if a day like this happens; Jerry would find random, abandoned wares and junk, and once he gets what is considered enough, he brings it here for the other employees to scavenge in, what they do with it is up to them. The choices are to take it apart and use it for spare parts or keep it to repair it and use for your own personal use.

"Hey, Y/n, can you help me with the doors?" He asked. You're always the one he asks because your door is always the closest to the backdoor. You nodded, closing the backdoor as he walked off to the lounge. You walked past his slow-moving figure and opened the door for him. He walked into the lounge and set it on the table, metal clanging from within. "Thanks. Let me guess, bad day at home?" He asked, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. "Yeah..." You grumbled, already digging into the box. You were good on supplies and parts, so you're looking for something to keep, but so far, nothing has caught your attention.

Then you found something peculiar. It was a tape player, one that seems to play music by looking at the cassette tape in its little window. Its main color was a dark blue, the second main color was white, and highlighted with a purple emblem, one that seems familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. There seemed to be a sticker on the window, a big yellow star.

You walked out of the lounge with the tape player as other employees were approaching, crowding around the table upon entering. You opened the door to your office and sat down at your desk. You opened the cassette and observed the tapes inside. You picked up one and played it, the familiar song plays: We're Not Gonna Take It by Twisted Sister. You set it to the side, next to a little robot that is immobile, and got to work on a ware from a client, slightly bobbing your head to the music.

(Time-skip)

It's been about a month since that day. The arguing has gotten worse that you started sneaking out daily, hanging out in your office with your cassette player waiting. It has become your comfort object. The little robot that was mentioned before, you made it to make yourself think you're talking to someone about your problems at home, about how much you missed your sister and you'd wish she'd be here or at least call, about how much you hate your parents arguing, and with them telling you stuff about the other, it started making you hate your parents.

But your parents started getting couple's therapy, and you brought your cassette with you, to listen to as you do your schoolwork. The arguing has almost disappeared. Almost.

As they were arguing, covering your ears with your pillow wrapped around the back of your head, trying to muffle the sounds. You couldn't take it anymore! In a frenzy, you quickly grabbed your bag, forgetting about your cassette. It wasn't until you reached your work, entered your office that you'd forgotten it. It's fine, you told yourself. "I can get it after work..." You muttered, getting to work on a project to take your mind off of the events.

Once you arrived home, you saw a note that they left to their jobs. Crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash, passing by an old family photo, back then when everyone was happy - you think. Your mother had one kid -- a daughter -- before she married your present father. Her name is Carly, and she's currently attending MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology), took after the appearance of her bio-dad, blond hair and pretty blue eyes. And then there was you in the photo, in a swaddle and only had been born a month ago before that very picture was taken. Looking at photos of the past like this really makes you wish things could go back.

You grabbed some pj's from your room and then entered your bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet and took some melatonin. You changed your clothes, tossing the dirty ones in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you, approaching your bed, got under the covers. With eyelids feeling heavy, you closed them, not even catching the sound of something transforming as you drowsed off to sleep.

---

It was supposed to be a mission to get information through someone who was a family or friend of those human Autobots. But it all changed when he had been forced to stay hidden while in your quote-on-quote possession like an everyday object.

You would always talk to that small but adorable looking pile of junk like it were a living being that's lending an ear, while he was right there. Listening. The one thing he wasn't expecting was heart-wrenching info about your personal life at home. How much you'd wish for your dear sister to be around again. How much for peace in the family.

But he can see it as clear as day and knows you do too, but you keep putting yourself in denial, gripping onto that dwindling hope that everything would change for the better. But they will. At least, in the way he's thinking.

When you accidentally left him at the house, it only took a few more minutes before their arguing drifted on about you, negatively. It filled him with fury. Organics or any other living beings such as them don't deserve someone like you. Every time you'd unknowingly talk to him, he can tell that you have a kind spirit, a childish soul that's slowly dying the more you're around their presences. Those kinds of people that are like you no longer exist in the war that going on; So rare that you'd have a better luck at finding little bits of Dark Energon in the darkest corners in the galaxy. They were either killed or they changed, becoming a cold, serious husk of the bot they once were.

So, he made up his mind. He'd take you back to the Decepticon base, put your consciousness in another body -- a Cybertronian body -- and change your memories; you don't need them if they'd bring you such misery. You're better off being with people who would care about you. His minicons kids have already liked you, they find you interesting. They already know about his plan with you and they'd be happy to be the siblings you deserve, unlike that Carly girl.

Once you were dead asleep, Soundwave transformed into robot-mode, carefully picking up your body and left the house. Then he traveled to Cybertron via spacebridge, and had Shockwave start building you a body as you were put in a stasis pod. Once it was done, you were taken out of the pod, but was still asleep, and were put through the transfer and memory change.

---

PART 2 COMING SOON!! It's already in the works.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

So, I'm curious: What's your take on Aylin's experience after/if she kills Lorroakan?

Allegedly, there's some information floating around somewhere that said Aylin was angry with Selune after she killed Lorroakan, but I can't find where this info is.

If you saw posts about that here on tumblr it was probably posted by @justanotherignot! I've actually been meaning to gather up all the devnote tidbits about Selûne from Aylin and Isobel for a while now, so thank you for the excuse to do so and ramble a bit.

Player: I was just wondering what it was like in that cage of Balthazar's. Aylin: Let us not dwell on those dark days. Their memory is a vortex within my heart that leads directly to the Hells.

What is happening is, well, it's the century of unthinkable horror catching up to her. It's the Trauma(TM) - in one of the conversation options she's literally triggered by the mention of someone being run through repeatedly! It's the growing awareness that although she's been freed (and possibly reunited with her love), the secret is out and there are always going to be assholes gunning for her, aiming to use her as an "artefact" and power source to fuel their ambitions, without any regard for her, you know... basic personhood and well-being. Also, Lorroakan was blatantly lying. He didn't find any super special way to siphon her immortality with "no harm, no pain of any kind", he was just replicating Balthazar's soul cage (you can even find a letter from Ketheric to him, showing Lorroakan was pestering them).

On to the stuff from the game files! First, the conversation with Aylin directly after the Lorroakan fight in the tower. I'm going to be putting the context notes in square brackets next to the lines they apply to. I also plucked some audio out from the files for some of these because I love the delivery.

Aylin: The fire-haired fool is dead. Yet as I stare upon his corpse, I feel… sadness. Why? [Slow and curious, angry and confused by all that has happened.] Player: What kind of sadness is it? / I know something of sadness - or at least the ballads do. What does it feel like? Aylin: A gripping in the chest. As though I'd lost someone, something. [Lost in thought for a moment; confused.] Aylin: A paladin's fatigue, no doubt. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side. [Remembering herself. She is Dame Aylin.] Aylin: I will catch my breath, then to camp I will bring my bones. Moonmaiden be with you. Player: Smiting is a weighty duty - sometimes it can be tiring. / Perhaps smiting has lost its pleasures. Aylin: Say it can't be so. For I am Selûne's sword. And ever must be. [She means it, but on the periphery of her consciousness is a tiny crack. Wondering about her fate.]

The above never fails to get me - she is Dame Aylin! Sword of the Moonmaiden! Glorious immortal paladin, champion of a righteous cause! She smites evil-doers for breakfast, that's, like, her whole thing! What do you mean she can't just pick up where she left off and go about her merry smitey way? What do you mean the thing that is supposed to be the literal core of her entire being (forever) doesn't feel good and glorious anymore, but just makes her feel sad and empty? No, no, no, we can't have that.

Player: One of the greatest tragedies of revenge is that it can only be taken once. / Because you won't get to kill him again? Aylin: Perhaps. Yet if I could run him through a thousand times, I wonder-- [Lost in thought, she's been triggered to remember her own fate being run through over and over.] Aylin: Battle has tired my mind, made me susceptible to flights of fancy. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side.

Aylin: I will return to camp shortly. I just need a moment to… to… [Lost in thought.]

She so very desperately needs some rest and a chance to come to terms with everything that happened and that was done to her. And it's clear it's going to be hard because she is defaulting to trying to deny anything is wrong, is clearly trying (and failing) to just be her old self immediately, has blatantly internalised a lot of that classic I Am A Sword stuff on top of everything (even though her mother is huge on free will and choice!), and is just really not well-equipped to handle any of this at all.

Next, this is the post-Lorroakan convo you get if you have both Aylin and Isobel in camp.

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just regaling sweet Isobel with tales of our prowess. Isobel: Very impressive. Thank you for helping Aylin - that wizard sounded absolutely dastardly. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - she's not sure why Aylin isn't herself.] Player: My pleasure. He had it coming. Aylin: He did, and it came. Now, my friend: bask in your victory. I will do the same. Aylin: But fear not: when the time comes for you to face the foe of foes, Isobel and I will stand by your side. [Rallying her soldierly spirit, but still a little drained.] Isobel: We wouldn't miss it. Not for anything. Aylin: Go well, friend. We will see you soon. And with our great powers combined, this city will be saved. Player: Hopefully he'll be the last. Aylin: There are always more bastards behind bastards. But we will run through them all, each by each.

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: I always do, with darling Isobel by my side. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of Lorroakan's death in your mind like silkfloss.

If Isobel isn't there (meaning she died in Act 2), you get this version:

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just reviewing our fight against foul Lorroakan; your moves and mine. The victory was soundly won. Aylin: Don't you think? [Uncharacteristically, Aylin is seeking input. She's usually so confident about everything, but killing Lorroakan has not had the intended effect on her.] Player: Indeed I do. Let his demise serve as a warning to anyone else who'd seek you out. Aylin: Let him be the last. If my dear mother has any mercy, she will ensure it. [Trying to stay her usual self, but her mask is cracking a tiny bit here. Privately, Aylin is dealing with a great deal of anger toward her mother, the goddess Selûne, But she's not yet willing to face it. How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?]

Player: We fought well - though I was a little worried about you afterward, in truth. Aylin: Set your mind at ease, my friend. Dame Aylin is more well now than she has been this past century. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - it's true she's better now than she has been, but why does she feel so shitty, then? (She's in the beginning of reckoning with the trauma of what happened to her).]

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: Yes. I wish for the very same. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of our prowess in your mind like silkfloss.

So, a few things pop out for me here. First, you get the more explicit anger at Selûne if Isobel isn't there, as opposed to the "hahah, I will smite all the bastards who dare come after me, no matter how many there are" line. "How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?" just... damn, hits hard, even if you subscribe to the theory that Selûne simply could not intervene in the Shadowfell imprisonment beyond sending those poor people whose graves you find in front of the mausoleum.

And here Aylin really lays it on thick with the denial that there's anything wrong at all. Combined with the letter you get from her in the epilogue if Isobel is dead, it just paints such a bleak, sad picture. I can just see her going all out on the Sword of Selûne duty-bound paladin side of things, no rest, no healing, no stopping even for a moment, no dealing with anything at all, from the trauma to the bitterness towards mum. Until whatever horrible breaking point comes, a year or a century from now. The need for Isobel's humanising influence is so clear. I've touched on Isobel's side of things here.

Speaking of having a bone to pick with Selûne, if you're playing as a cleric/paladin of Selûne, you can get some extra very honest dialogue with Isobel in Last Light:

Player: Why has the Moonmaiden waited until now to take an interest in this curse? Isobel: Maybe she was waiting for one of us to find this place ourselves. Free will, and all that.

Isobel: Though if it were my place to ask why she let Ketheric turn; why she allowed this village to rot at his hands - believe me, I would. [A cold edge in her voice]

Player: Are you faring all right? It can't be easy holding a lone candle in such darkness. Isobel: All things with her strength. You know the litany. [A little sarcastically. She's got a bone to pick with Selûne but isn't being too overt.]

Side note: the amount of devnotes for Isobel's lines that say she's delivering them "with swagger" and being "cheeky" makes me smile every time. Love her. Love her snark.

Also, to get it out of the way: no, I'm fairly sure Aylin did not break her oath. I see this brought up a ton and I just see no way for it to be the case. There is nothing to suggest this outside of a wording similarity and it just makes no sense. Girl is clearly some flavour of Oath of Vengeance (she uses Abjure Enemy, so this is the case even mechanically, even though she's obviously an NPC and not a standard player-build paladin) and she killed a very shitty guy who was also explicitly after her in godawful ways. You can do far worse things in the game than her dramatic speech and backbreaker and not break your OoV.