#him. you cant. because u would and u know what. so would I

[majoryeager104]

Okay so I’m a huge Touya (and Keigo but this isn’t about him rn) fan and I’m delusional about him. There’s this scenario I’ve been thinking about a lot and like I NEED someone to write it before I lose it. Reader helping Touya redo his staples after he asks. And like, after they do the new staple, kissing it?? I DON’T KNOW IF THIS IS WEIRD OR NOT ITS JUST BEEN WHAT IM THINKING ABOUT AND IF I CANT READ THIS SOON I WILL EXPLODE also I just found your page and omg I love it all sm <3

GAWSHHHHHH I NEED THIS TOO WHAT UR A GENIUS <3 AND IM SO GLAD U LIKE MY PAGE HEHEHEHEH X3

warning: blood and language obv

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Touya had come back late again, the door of your apartment clicking open sometime after midnight. You’d heard him, but didn’t expect him to make much noise, that is until he nudged you awake.

“hey babe, ‘m sorry but can you help me out? I’m kind of having a situation here”

his gruff voice pierced through your sleepy mind and you blinked a few times, but nodded, sitting up. Your room was dark, and so you couldn’t exactly see this ‘situation’, at least not until he’d gently pulled you by your hand into the bathroom where he flicked on the light, and lo and behold, his mouth was practically hanging open, blood trickling down his scarred cheeks, staples long gone and ripped out.

Now you were wide awake, gasping in shock. All he did was give you a sheepish smile as he held his jaw shut with his free hand. With his damaged his face already was, it was a miracle that his masseter was still in tact enough for him to move his mouth to speak, but he wouldn’t dare risk making it worse. He pulled his hand from yours to grab the stapler on the edge of the counter, waving it as he raised his eyebrows, silently asking for your assistance.

You sighed and nodded, grabbing some towels to clean up the blood, before sitting him down on the toilet seat as you knelt in front of him. You dabbed away the blood on his face, cleaning it with a towel you’d gotten wet before grabbing the cheap stapler he’d brought with him and holding it to his face. You looked worried, your brow creased as you looked at him. He merely shrugged, speaking up “it doesn’t hurt.”

Feeling a bit better about it after that, you began, flinching each time you pushed a staple in. It was more time consuming than you’d thought it would be, more than you’d wished, even, because you’d never expected to have to put staples on your boyfriends mouth, and yet here you were.

While you’d flinch, you also felt a certain tug in your stomach, as your eyes scanned over the staples. How many times has he had to do this by himself? Why did he have to do this? The more you thought of his situation, stapling his mouth was less of a disgusting or scary chore and more of a sad one. So much so that you didn’t even notice the prevalent furrow of your brow, or the sadness that had entered your gaze.

Touya, on the other hand, did. His blue eyes scanned yours, almost as if he knew what you were thinking. The only thing he’d told you about his old life was his name, but in moments like this he wished he’d said so much more, wished he could. Instead he just bit his tongue and let you finish putting him back together again.

But once you’d placed the last staple on his cheek, you did something he didn’t expect. You smeared away the excess blood on his face with the wet towel, and then placed a little kiss on the thin strip of metal now clasped firmly to his face. It was a simple gesture, really, but it was also so, so intimate, at least to Touya. You’d just seen him literally torn up, had to put staples through his face, and now you were kissing him.

The scars taking up the majority of his face certainly couldn’t hide the blush that crawled over his pale skin as you looked up at him afterwards, and offered him a smile. He felt so…vulnerable.

and he liked it.

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SOMEONE SEDATE ME IM BLUSHING SO HARD RN OMG THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST I HOPE YOU KNOW ILL BE DREAMING ABOUT THIS LATER

[babyjinsu]

heartlink - anton lee

it's a match!

002 of 001

wc; 2.5k anton borderline stalker manipulator creep

by the time you know it, you and anton were planning for another date.

both of you had been talking (exchanged numbers) for almost two months now; and you could feel it—that anton was genuinely interested in you. he let it be known too. he never failed to ask about your day, everyday, and even remembered little details you didn’t realise you had mentioned. like that one time you were ranting about a classmate and he asked if it was the same girl who took credit for your work in the team. 

it felt nice. really nice, in fact. you couldn’t recall the last time you were excited to talk to someone past bedtime.

anton: should we go to the forest park? spring is near :) 

you read the message twice. the forest park was a little further out but he was right—parks are so much prettier during springs. 

yn: sounds nice! i haven’t been there in a while^^

anton: that’s perfect then. saturday afternoon?

yn: that works. i’ll c u soon

anton: i cant wait 

you liked talking to anton, and if he truly liked you the way you did, you could see a relationship forming between the two of you.

——

the weather was perfect. it was chilly, not too cold, but just enough to make you slightly shiver under your sweater. the last time you were here was a year, or two years ago before you enrolled in university. it looked even prettier than you remember—the trees just starting to wake from winter. 

despite the cold air, anton’s presence was warm beside you. 

thankfully, this time you didn’t feel that uneasiness creeping into your bones like before. if anything, you felt comfortable. maybe the first date was just your nervous system acting up.

you and anton walked side by side, talking about everything and nothing—his upcoming tests, your tasks last weekend, and so on. the rhythm felt natural. and at some point, the conversation shifted to pets.

“i’m thinking of adopting a dog,” you said, kicking a loose pebble on the path. “not like a really big one. maybe a corgi, or a shiba? they’re really cute.” anton hummed beside you, hands in his pocket. “yeah? what about a cat?” he asked, looking at you from his height.

“i love cats, but…” you crossed your arms, looking up to the sun that was dipping low. “i want a pet that gets excited when i come home. so it doesn’t feel so lonely.” you smiled, looking up at him.

anton chuckled. “true true,” he nodded, looking forward. “besides, you’re allergic to cats.” 

your smile and steps faltered. 

you felt the air around you suddenly dropped in temperature. you came to a stop, cocking your head slightly in confusion. “...what?”

anton glanced back at you and stopped his tracks as well; turning his body to face you. he still had a smile on his face. “what?” he echoed, almost amused. 

you blinked, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “how do you know that?”

“about what?” anton asked.

it dawned on you that the only people in the park were you and anton. you suddenly become hyper-aware of your vicinity—the once comforting rustling and petals falling from the trees now felt eerily hollow. 

“about me being allergic to cats…” you murmured—your voice coming out softer than intended.

anton blinked at you, then let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head slightly. “you told me.”

you frowned. “no, i didn’t.”

you stared at him, your heart racing. had you? you knew you hadn’t. the only people who knew about your allergy to cats were your family members and some of your friends (because you came to their apartments often)—and your past roommate. if you did tell him at one point, you would’ve remembered. why would you even tell him about your allergy to cats?

but the way anton was looking at you so casually, like it was obvious—like you were the one being weird.

“you did,” he insisted, his voice even; unlike yours. “you must’ve forgotten.” 

your arms tightened around yourself. “i… i don’t think I did, though?” 

anton’s eyes married just a fraction. “are you sure?” he hummed. his voice was gentle and patient, as if he was speaking to someone, you, who had misplaced a memory. “maybe you mentioned it in passing? people forget small things all the time.” 

you hesitated. that wasn’t wrong, at all. your mother said you’re forgetful all the time.

he took a step closer to you, his smile didn’t waver. anton stood just close enough that you could catch a faint scent of his cologne—he smelled like damp earth after rain. you hoped he didn’t hear the way your heart’s beating against your ribcage. “i told you, i know you,” he murmured, you could barely catch it over the rustling wind. “we’ve talked a lot. i pay attention to you, that’s all.” 

there was something unsettling about the way he said that—it should’ve made you feel better. happy, giddy, excited, that anton paid attention to you—the small, trivial, details about you. he cared enough to. 

but instead you forced out a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i mean, i guess it’s possible. i’m just forgetful sometimes.”

anton hummed, stretching his arms out above his head. “good thing i remember things for you, then.” he smiled. you mirrored him, plastering a small, almost forced smile onto your face and started walking again—anton followed close behind, falling back into steps beside you.

it was just a slip of memory, nothing weird. nothing weird at all.

the air still felt cold, but anton’s presence was still warm.

——

ever since the second date, everything that came out of anton’s mouth sounded, and felt very uneasy for you. so the decision to stop talking to anton—just happened…

it wasn’t anything concrete, the reasoning wasn’t something you could point to and say, this is why. it was the way it was spoken—so sure of the things you were certain (after thorough memory recalling) you never told him; it’s the way he made you question yourself. so small, and so insignificant even, but you couldn’t get it off your mind. it was burrowing into your skin like a splinter. 

slowly, you let the conversation fade into nothing. you stopped replying as often; the way you’re replying was obvious you were in no mood to talk—then you stopped replying altogether. you did feel guilty, felt like you fumbled a really handsome, tall, smart dude but you just couldn’t shake off the feeling. that weird gurgle feeling in your stomach when you think of him.

at first you convinced yourself that it was just temporary—new semester was unfolding so you’ve got to prepare yourself anyway. besides, a coworker had just quitted, which meant you had to work double shifts. it wasn’t just anton to be fair, you quitted tinder too. deleted your account and everything because you just didn’t find it fun anymore. anton would understand, you knew him that much, at least.  

he didn’t bombarded you with texts, but he did check in.

anton: hey, everything ok? youve been quiet :/ 

anton: hopefully things are fine. did i do something wrong? 

you stared at the messages for a long time, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. 

days passed, anton still hadn’t stopped texting.

anton: you havent been responding me 

anton: yn?

you fought the urge to reply, to send him a text—a lie—telling him that you just got a bit busy for the past few days! and things were fine and that you guys should go out again! but you didn’t. you just left him on read, and eventually, anton was left on simply delivered. 

then a few weeks passed, no more texts came on the other end. you didn’t know how to feel. it’s normal and logical for people to stop putting effort after realising it’s not reciprocated—it’s not something you could blame anton for. 

so you blocked him, 

and you thought that was the end of it, you really, really, did. 

——

the student gathering was loud, mixed with overlapping conversations and hum of music. the air carried the aroma of grilled meat and sizzling fat as people talked and passed plates and clinked drinks over each other. like most people in the restaurant, you had been roped into this by your friends—and you were surprisingly having a good time. until, you got a phone call from your mother. 

“oh, i’ve got to take this call…”

the cool air of the night hit you almost immediately as you stepped out. standing just beside the restaurant’s building, you pressed your phone against your ear as your mother’s voice filtered through the receiver. “how’s the new semester, honey?”

you smiled warmly despite her not being able to see it anyway. “mm, it’s fine,” you reassured, leaning against the brick. you glanced briefly at your friends chugging bottles of beers through the glass door. “i’m at the art department’s party right now.” 

you heard your mother muttering a small ‘wow’ before she asked you about your classes. “it’s okay so far. only been a few weeks… not excited to learn more.” you chuckle, looking down on your mary janes. 

the new semester was swiping in faster than you’d prepared yourself for. the new syllabus, new lecturers, new faces in your class… they weren’t foreign, but somehow it just felt like so.

“hehe, i’ll probably come back during the mid-semester break,” you replied to your mother’s question asking when will you be back? your younger sister’s missing you. you adjusted your grip on your phone, switching it to the other ear as your mother talked about your dad’s annoying behaviour. 

eventually, the conversation came to an end—with your mother telling you to not skip meals, and to have enough rest, you bid your mother goodbye and ended the phone call, but not before telling her that you loved her. 

you hummed softly to yourself, tucking your phone back inside your cardigan until a sudden wisp of smoke curled into the air, the smell sharp and acrid. you scrunched your nose as it hits you, before you noticed the figure standing a few feet away, back leaning against the wall. the ember of the tip of his cigarette flared as he took another slow drag.

whatever, just a dude smoking, you thought, people smoke all the time—and they couldn’t be bothered enough to check their surroundings. you exhaled. 

you pushed off the wall, ready to head back inside—

“wow,” a voice drawled, smooth and amused. “yn? what are you doing here?”

you froze. you knew that voice. you hadn’t heard it for weeks.

your breath hitched slightly as you turned your head.

and there he was. anton stood there, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. there was that same smile, that same, charming, boyish smile on his face that swept you off the ground. 

his voice carried a lilt of surprise as he flickered the cigarette, the ember glowing before dimming again. he pushed himself off the wall, and made his way just slightly towards you.

you forced your lips to move, now fully facing him. your legs were too frozen to move—to leave, to run back in where he, you thought, wouldn’t be brave enough to confront. “i—” you swallowed, “i could ask you the same thing.” 

anton only lets out a small laugh before taking another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in slow breath. you never knew he smoke. he never told you, and he certainly didn’t look like one.

“i’m picking up a friend,” he hummed, nudging his head towards the inside of the restaurant. his friend was someone from your university. you never heard him mention any friends before—not that he had to, but… 

you pressed your lips together, nodding in acknowledgement—but honestly it just felt like you needed to do some kind of physical interaction to hide the uneasiness on your face. “oh,” you murmured, shifting your feet. “that’s nice…”

you didn’t know what else to say.

you felt anton’s gaze on you, and even without looking, you could tell he still had that smile plastered on his face. your skin prickled, goosebumps rose across your body. 

“you look pretty,” he said suddenly. the soft glow of his cigarette flickered, the scent heavier than the cold feeling of the night air. “been doing okay?” 

god, it was just a simple question. why do you feel like crying? 

either way, you forced down the heavy lump rising in your throat. “yeah,” you lied, nodding. “just… been busy.” you continued, crossing your arms—hugging yourself as a sense of security, self-soothing mechanism, even. you’re still not looking at him.

anton hummed, tilting his head slightly. he could see right through you. atta girl, 

“did you change your number?” he asked, almost offhandedly. “my texts wouldn’t go through. did something happen?” 

you felt your pulse spiking. oh my god, oh my god. he tried texting you? 

your throat went dry, your fingers gripped your cardigan tighter—you didn’t just ghost anton, you cut him off. you blocked and went out of radar. you deleted your tinder account, wiped everything away. and he still tried? 

anton let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head at your silence. it gave it away.

“you blocked me, didn’t you?”

you remained quiet, fingers pinching on your own skin. anton exhaled another slow breath of smoke. he was looking at you and the way he was looking at you—his eyes, they didn’t hold a look of disappointment, or anger, or or, being rejected. it was something worse, it was amusement.

like he had found it funny. ridiculous, childish, expected. 

your stomach churned when you caught a glimpse of it. 

“i should head back,” you muttered. it took you a lot of courage to say that. your body was already half-turning towards the glass door of the restaurant—just a few steps, and you’d be greeted by your friends asking what took you so long, and the scent of meat and alcohol. you’d be safe.

but before you could, anton shifted—just lightly, 

anton wrapped his fingers around your wrist. it wasn’t tight nor was it forceful—it was warm and firm. 

it was just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat, to send a cold rush down your spine. your body freezing on instinct. 

you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing down at his hand to where it engulfed yours—his fingers, slender and steady, easily curved around the fragile line of your wrist. for a second, you thought of how easy it would be for anton to break it.

then, slowly, his thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, absentmindedly, memorising—feeling the way your pulse jumped beneath your skin.

“anton,” you breathed out, your own betraying you. he hummed, his lips curling at the edges as he took another step closer—he didn’t pull you in. the space between you both shrinking as his presence settled into your circle.  “come on,” he said, tilting his head slightly. his grip didn’t tighten nor did it loosen.

“we haven’t talked for so long,” anton continued, his tone light. there was something mockery in the way he said it, just beneath the surface of his voice that gave goosebumps over your arms. his fingers twitched against your cold skin, not a lot, but intentional.

a heartbeat passed,

then another—

“what’s the rush?”

💭 hes so hot oh my lawd..... part 3 or similar concept w other members r being think-ed about....

[vcrnons]

what a time to be alive🥹

[oceanwithouthermoon]

saikis powers are a vital part of him so it makes sense that people who dont know about them cant truly understand his whole self, but its also very silly to me when people act like its the ONLY important part of him... people act like his friends that arent in the know are completely blind to who saiki is, but i feel like that kinda means you missed some major points... he cant keep his powers a secret forever and it DOES matter, but he can still be loved and KNOWN without knowing about them... hes still human, he still has a personality, he still has regular likes and dislikes, etcetc

his friends perspectives on him may have been wrong at first, but they CHANGED... they know him and love him, and theyll KEEP loving him the SAME once they know of his powers...

​some people cough cough cough in this fandom like to reduce saiki to JUST his powers and its so obvious that you just. missed everything. you didnt absorb anything from the show, you just saw it and went "ha, everyone thinks hes just a guy when hes actually super cool and powerful" no no no, he IS cool and powerful but look a little closer and at his core he is still LITERALLY JUST A GUY 😭😭😭

hes such a guy.....

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

It's missing my father hours rn so imma just dump a bunch of pictures here and cry

( sorry i don't know the source of anything I just had them on my phone)

(also dont read the tags i just need to let it out lol)

[puhpandas]

here are some of my thoughts on how beckory could be if ggy never happened and gregory continued to live a normal life being abnormal

[princekirijo]

World's most frustrating feeling: having multiple ideas and character designs but despite working on the thing for nearly 5 YEARS still being nowhere close to having a coherent plot 💀

[theladyfae]

i think human nature/family of blood is a really good two parter in how it manages to show how full of shit ten is 🫶

[hiddenbeks]

oh also in other news. i finally finished leviathan the other day

[lokh]

what do you think toshiro's version of laios would've been like if he was still with the group during the shapeshifter shenanigans

there have been a few speculations in the tag and among the fans and they are all very good SO i am going to take this opportunity to insert a bit of my shipping bias as i like in my interpretation LMAO agdsfgdfgv

i noted that in actuality shuro seems to have a very good grasp on laios' character??? this is most obvious in the manga later on but even seeing how he criticises laios in their fight... iirc nothing he says is actually untrue or wildly exaggerated, and while he does express frustration over something he feels like laios Should have control over (noticing his cues), he is also aware that laios isnt being malicious and that hes Just Like That. what i mean to say is that while i think his version of laios may seem more pushy and in-your-face, i dont think it will be overwhelmingly so. if its post-fight, i think the idea of laios (and marcille) being willing to do anything to get falin back made a big impression on him, as well as the idea that they need to eat and rest in order to succeed in their goals, so those aspects would be prominent in his version. he seems pretty observant, so i think for the most part the physical traits would line up, but i think there would be specific things that stand out to him that would appear strangely striking on his version of laios (like. idk something about his eye colour or the subtle contrast of his armour and chainmail. he seems to have a weird sense of aesthetics if extras are anything to go by lmao). if hed actually been paying attention all those times laios had gone on about what the hell ever, then it might be even MORE hard to tell apart his version since he would also have a good grasp on what laios should know. so either his version of laios is pretty difficult to pick out, OR despite the character being accurate his appearance is too. stylised lmao (exaggerated features or something) OR!! they just get him to pull out his monster gourmet guide thing and are able to tell from there. iirc everyone was surprised at its appearance so its possible toshiro had also never seen it before

IN MY IMAGINARY SHIPPING SCENARIO............ lets say that his laios isnt able to be picked out immediately and that the monster guide thing also doesnt immediately occur to anyone. what the real laios Specifically notices is how close this other laios keeps getting to shuro. and hes like. ??? why is he getting so close to him, theres no way i get that close to him??? but no one else seems to be picking up on it as weird, so hes having a small crisis like do i REALLY get that close to him???? and now that hes on the outside he notices shuro subtly leaning away and he feels both a wave of shame and..... protectiveness??? (JEALOUSY??????) and he immediately steps in and grabs him like Hey!!! cant you see hes uncomfortable???? weve been through this already!!! and like. ok i cant believe im doing this again but i need to separate this into different endings

a) the whump route: i dont think shuro ever envisioned Actually Telling laios about his frustrations outside of being basically cornered into it. has he ever spoken up against what was expected of him?? has he ever been confrontational???? i think part of what held him back from expressing his frustrations, along with the cultural norms, could be fear of what the reaction would be. if he had done the same in any other aspect of his life (his family, his inheritance), i think he would expect disappointment, disapproval, more proof that he doesnt add up to expectation. to be honest i dont think he Truly believes that laios is the type of person to react like this. but it was strong enough to prevent him from acting and i think would be projected onto his image of laios. maybe fake!laios says something dismissive like Well if it really bothered him hed say something right? what, he cant even stand up for himself? cmon, shuro, prove that you cant handle it just like everything else. and thats pretty much the fastest giveaway that it isnt really laios. of course this would be a HUGE tonal departure from what the actual episode/chapter was, so:

b) the dumbass route: both laioses break into fisticuffs, and, yes.... barking. and so they speedrun the entire encounter as the shapeshifters true form appears and, after laios points out that thinking too hard about others versions of you can tear apart groups and peace of mind, they pointedly do not speak of it again. they think about it though. a LOT

c) the normal route: both laioses argue normal like and the group ends up being able to tell them apart because the fake laios goes on a little too long about how theyre all here for falin and everyones like ok its not like he DOESNT love his sister but.......... the rest of the scenario probably goes like canon, though then i would want to see what everyone Else thought of shuro

[nihiltism]

ok so while my ds is getting sand poured into it at alarming rates I'm thinking about how jrpgs in specific have a really weird desync with How Important Death Is. like some address it better than others but it very frequently happens where if you take a step back youll go "am I wild or is everybody just like, Really down with murder in this game". and consequences for said murder, especially in a characterization sense but even just actual physical consequences, don't really happen? unless it's a vehicle for conflict but like. when it is a vehicle for conflict it feels weird because why are These Guys actually taking the fact we killed somebody in broad daylight seriously and coming after us for it while all the other npcs and even the main party took it like it was another saturday evening

see I Think where the issue lies is in the fact that everything is in its own little world when you're in a battle? like. when you fight an enemy and you get leather out of it it's seen as something the enemy Drops and not. their hide. when you defeat a character in a battle it does just feel like you Defeated them. unless there's dialogue afterwards that says otherwise you don't even mentally assume you killed em you just wounded them enough to make them flee or dissolve or whatever. and it's Weird to just. have that assumption there because for a lot of games it really isn't clear if you're killing them or defeating them !!

that last point is extra important when you have the specific brand of Skittish Hero / Noble Hero Who Doesn't Kill People / Rational Hero In Way Over Their Head or whatever where you really don't think they Would kill a guy just to get them out of the way. in that case it's REALLY weird because it's hardly brought up. even if it Is brought up that that guy Sure Did Die the mc doesn't tend to actually have a reaction ??? and I don't know why this is ???? like Any written reaction would be more interesting than nothing even if the guy doesn't have a full on crisis about taking another life having them go "oh shit, The Consequences" would be nice. really anything except (oh cool we can advance the plot now).

I will also mention that Some deaths do matter plot wise but very frequently what makes them matter is how much of it is linked to an in game battle I think. if your mc just finishes a fight and comes back to the overworld and the guy's Disappeared or Dissolved or whatever it means they don't matter. if the guy's still around after the fight it means it's more significant, especially if they're still alive but wounded or Really Shaken Up. because this clears up the indistinguishable line between if a battle is lethal or not and if a character decides to deal a finishing blow now it's Way more telling of their character. even though this is basically the same thing that happened in the (killed In A Battle) scenario. just with more dialogue. I will also mention that the person who deals the finishing blow is Rarely Ever that good hearted protagonist and often they'll even go :0 at somebody else committing a murder despite them instigating and helping murder quite a few people. just. In Battle. so it's less bad. I guess.

this is leaving out the fact that in party deaths are often a Major Major Blow because like. ok that's fair. that's A Guy You Knew that's understandable. anyway I don't really know where I'm going with this I just think it's interesting how in these types of games death can swap from not mattering at all to mattering a Lot and if u don't think about it too hard u don't even question it. I'll probably be putting some examples in the tags idk

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

hate how im now at a point where im legit like kicking my legs and grinning like an idiot over fictional characters SEND HELP

[salsflore]

been almost 3 yrs and i am still struggling with the whole mikachi first meeting thing. bye

[hiddenbeks]

more than a month after my previous kotor update i am happy to announce that i have finally met jolee and had him join me <3