#hopefully not to stab it

[sneakymystique]

Mystique & Nightcrawler by Uko Smith

[lacquerheadd]

silly sketch of my man

[daiwild]

changing room mishap

Kons a lil confused but he will ALWAYS get pissed at bad guys hurting his friends

[polyamorouspunk]

I’m having stress that’s making me want to react in typical BPD ways and I’m aware of that and also what is causing the stress and the fact that there is nothing I can do in this moment to address the problem only manage my reactions and feelings as best as I can and it sucks.

[purple-egg-yolk]

I think Shallan and Adolin are the characters I would most want to meet in the stormlight archive.

Not because they are necessarily my favorite but I feel like they are the most approachable. Adolin makes friends with everyone and Shallan generally seems pretty chill.

Like favorite character? Character I would most want to be friends with?? Jasnah. But that would never ever happen realistically. (As realistically as we get talking about meeting fantasy characters ofc lol)

[slime-t00th]

🤢🔮🪱

Goretober 16: Impaled/Stabbed

[gothamverse]

[sgt-tombstone]

43 definitely caught my eye.

(Don't mind gore, it can be fun. But. No dying ppl plz.)

43. A bloody kiss

So I’m somewhat shamefully plugging my MCD fic, Funeral Blues, because the idea that keeps swirling around in my head is an expansion of one of the flashbacks BUT I know you said no dying, so this snippet won’t have any MCD, I promise! It can be read as a complete stand-alone scene, separate from the rest of the fic entirely!

~~~~~~~~

The mission had gone to shit, because of course it had. That seemed to be the 141’s entire MO: make a plan, then have it thrown out the window hours or even minutes later, because the intel had been bad, or their targets had moved, or there were more defenses than expected. The consistency of it all would’ve made Ghost laugh if the result of this particular mission going to shit hadn’t been… this.

This, of course, being Johnny, laid out on his back in the middle of the helicopter, combat medics swarming like flies, prodding with various needles and tubes and instruments, all while trying not to slip on the copious amounts of blood seeping from… everywhere, honestly. Some of it was Ghost’s, undoubtedly, but the vast majority of the slick blood coating the metal floor was Soap’s, rapidly cooling in the chilled air.

His eyes were open, which was a good sign. He was still conscious, his heart rate not steady, but strong enough. He was breathing, and that’s what Ghost forced himself to focus on. Not the indentation of Johnny’s skin as the IV needle punctured, injecting unknown substances directly into his veins. Not the white dressing that instantly stained red where it was pressed against the gunshot wound in Johnny’s thigh. Not the blood running in rivulets across Johnny’s face from the gash to his temple, forcing him to squint one eye and lick his lips in a vain attempt to keep his own blood from dripping into his open, gasping mouth.

Ghost couldn’t look at any of it. The needle reminded him of Roba, of the drugs he’d been injected with against his will, despite knowing that these combat medics would rather die than lose a soldier; they didn’t know Soap, but that was the nature of their work. The blood-stained cloth reminded him of his family, laid out under the Christmas tree, thin sheet draped over their corpses, soaked in viscera and gore, red blooming like flowers where gravity pulled white to red. The rivulets of blood reminded him of Las Almas, of the gunshot wound that had nearly taken Johnny from him the first time, before he’d even known him; Ghost might’ve been able to handle it then, but it’d kill him now.

Instead, he focused on Johnny’s eyes. Bright blue, wide, alert, and trained directly on Ghost. They were upside down, because Johnny’s head was cradled in the divot of Ghost’s crossed legs, the sides of his face supported by Ghost’s gloved hands, his thumbs moving subconsciously in soothing arcs over Johnny’s cheeks, smearing the blood even further. It was everywhere, seeping from everywhere, staining both of them and everything around them gruesome, grim red, but Ghost only had eyes for the flash of blue in the midst of it all.

There was fear in those eyes. Anyone else would’ve missed it; Johnny was too well-trained to let his terror shine through, too eager to please to display anything that could disappoint a superior officer, too warm-hearted to project anything less than confident assuredness to the men around him. But Ghost wasn’t just anyone, and he didn’t miss it. He didn’t miss the way Johnny’s gaze clung to Ghost’s own like a lifeline, the way his breath hitched on every other inhale, the way his fingers twitched against the cold metal floor, like he was desperately stopping himself from touching something he shouldn’t.

Ghost’s mask was pulled up partially because in their rush to exfil, no one had given him a headset, so he’d had to rely on the medics’ ability to read his lips as his shouted report was drowned out by the helicopter rotors. Not that they’d really needed his help; it had been obvious what was wrong with Johnny. The two of them had limped their way towards the helicopter from the tree line, exposed on all sides and reliant on the air patrol to cover them as Ghost nearly carried Soap to the RV point. Blood had soaked the entire leg of his fatigues from the knee down, and his tac vest was coated in mud and blood too; Ghost’s arm around his torso had been the only thing keeping him upright by the time they made it to the safety of the medics’ waiting arms.

He wasn’t stable yet; the kind of blood loss that he’d suffered would need a transfusion or two eventually, but the medics weren’t looking so concerned anymore, and Ghost found it within himself to take a deep breath.

Johnny finally reached up, his arm moving slowly, lethargically, like every twitch of the muscles was a monumental effort, and Ghost watched as his fingertips brushed against his blood-stained forehead, probing at the scabbing gash. Normally, he’d slap the sergeant’s hand away, would growl at him to leave it well enough alone, because that’s how shit gets infected, but he also knew the deep-seated need to self-analyze. His eyes never left Johnny’s fingers as they shifted lower, following the blood trail to his own lips, meeting the tip of his tongue as it peeked out, tasting his own blood. His mouth moved, silent in the roaring air, but Ghost knew what Johnny’s lips looked like when they wrapped around his name, and he could hear it perfectly in his mind’s eye.

Soap’s arm was on the move again, stretching up, impossibly high, until the warmth of his palm met Ghost’s jaw, smearing red across his skin, hot like a brand, straight from the source, and Ghost’s breath caught in his chest. He saw Johnny’s eyes dilate, blue swallowed by black, fear overtaken by…

“I’ve got you, Johnny,” Ghost rumbled, knowing that the sound would be stolen but that Johnny would understand anyway. He always did, somehow.

A tear pooled on Johnny’s lash line before spilling over, racing down his temple, mixing with the blood smeared over Johnny’s skin before soaking into the cloth of Ghost’s glove, and he could almost convince himself that he could feel it against his skin, damp and warm and so full of life.

Johnny’s hand curled, cupping the back of Ghost’s neck, resisting the tug of gravity pulling his arm down like dead weight, except… No, Johnny was definitely the one pulling. Pulling Ghost down, closer, urging him to lean over him, to—

Their lips met, blood slick and offset, the upside down angle making any real kiss impossible, but it was enough. More than enough. Never enough. Ghost cradled Johnny impossibly closer, ignoring the medics’ warning sounds as he maneuvered Johnny’s body, but he’d never do anything to hurt him. Something this perfect couldn’t possibly hurt, not when he had Johnny’s lips on his, Johnny’s hands on him, Johnny’s love pouring into his mouth like too shelf bourbon, intoxicating and burning and addictive all at once.

They separated when they couldn’t breathe anymore, but neither of them went far. Ghost’s lungs were burning, his back already making its displeasure at the harsh angle known, his hips and knees aching at the stretch of folding himself damn near in half, but a direct order from Price himself couldn’t have urged him any further from Johnny, and Johnny evidently felt the same, his fingers tangling in the fabric at the back of Ghost’s neck.

“Ghost,” he said, breath brushing against Ghost’s blood-smeared lips, and Ghost brought one arm down to curl around Johnny’s torso, pulling him slightly upright and slotting their bodies together, back-to-chest.

“I’ve got you, Johnny,” he whispered into Soap’s ear, and he wasn’t sure who he was comforting. All he knew was that, when the helicopter touched down back at base, Johnny was still in his arms, still breathing, still holding on, and he thought that maybe, he could have this.

[aeantizlkamenwati]

Veilguard Thoughts

I just need to get my thoughts out of my head and the Void seems like a perfect place since I can’t write a review on console. I’m all for civil discussion, but at the end of the day this is my opinion/feelings after 20 hours. Perhaps it'll change once I finished the game, but I doubt it. Beware minor spoilers.

Warning: Incredibly long. TL;DR at the very end.

I’ll start this off by saying it’s not a bad GAME, just a bad DRAGON AGE. It runs nice (only had one crash, and minimal amount of stuttering on fidelity mode, one time the screen went completely black but the dialogue and music continued which was vaguely terrifying. Some movements are janky in cutscenes, but overall, not bad). It's pretty, I like some of the new designs. The music is nice.

I’m not a fan of this style of combat (never could jive with God of War or Bloodbourne; my preference for real time action is like Hades and DMC) mostly because I can’t cancel an action with dodge/block and the AI focuses solely on Rook so you end up getting swarmed and unable to properly see the flasher plus the timing is weird af. I tried playing on what I assume was supposed to be Casual mode (Keeper) because it said “emphasizes party composition over reflexes” and well…it lied. To the point that I was not having fun because the game is 70% combat, 20% exploring and 10% story. So I turned it to Story mode because I could not be bothered and enjoyed it slightly more. It feels very MMO, team-based, looter imo. The UI, how it handles, the depth of the story and how it goes about it (the Mission Accomplished Journal screens specifically), the emphasis on combat over anything else…

And here we get to my problem: I only enjoy it when I pretend it’s just a generic fantasy game and not Dragon Age. Because it doesn’t FEEL like a Dragon Age. It feels as soft as everyone’s skin texture. I don’t care about the story or the characters and it boils down to the writing.

It feels juvenile.

Like I loved DA because it was willing to confront the worst in humanity. The disgusting parts of war like Loghain selling elves to slavers, or the nunances of blood magic. Presenting choices that are morally grey like sacrificing the Circle or the Templars in DA2 (yes that choice was heavily forced and stupid but still). It didn’t shy away from it. There was levity, but the characters had multiple sides. They could get angry, they could get snappy or sappy. There was GROWTH to them. Zevran’s romance arc if you choose to reject the earring without more commitment was beautiful. DA2’ romances were…a little stilted, but I still enjoyed them. Inquisition also had lovely little arcs, depending on the romance. But even friendships felt natural as you got to know these people.

And Veilguard falls flat. They were okay with pissing off the culture war babies with trans/nonbinary options, but not with showing us the bad things. The game TELLS us “this is bad”, but doesn’t show why. They have their soap box moment of “slavery bad” like it’s not 2024 and anyone worth the air they breathe knows that, how about you still show that since we are IN THE HEART OF THE SLAVE TRADE?! Where’s the option to maybe be an escaped slave? An escaped Saarebas? They refuse to give us blood magic because “it’s messy” Yeah. It is. That’s the point. Maybe let me decide if that's a line I'd like to cross? No? Necromancy is fine? It’s like we traded the dark adult themes for better sex scenes.

The major choice I’ve gotten to means NOTHING outside of metagaming. It’s like they were trying to show they could be edgy or that “now now you can’t save everyone because we say so and we are going to force one of your companions to hate you”. And it boils down to who you want to romance, who is vital as a support character, and which faction do you prefer? Has nothing to do with anything else and there’s no way to fix this forced hardening, so have fun with that I guess? It’s not like I chose the dialogue options or anything, it feels as shoe horned in as DA2’s ending tbh. Like here have a shitty decision for no other reason than we want you to.

Then BioWare seems to have tried to both cater to the newbies and the ones who read/watch/listen to the extra media and fail to find a middle ground. It relies too heavily on codexes and journals and other media (which was my gripe with Inquisition) to do the heavy lore lifting (for example as someone who did not read Tevinter Nights yet nor listened to the third-party podcast, I have no connection to Rook's backstory).

But at the same time, it treats us like we are stupid? Going back to how juvenile the writing feels: it repeats itself a horrific amount. Every time Solas says “the Evanuris” it’s apparently a contractual obligation for him to say “or the elven gods as you would call them” immediately after. The amount of freaking out about them CONSTANTLY is like they are afraid we forgot after an hour. And again I kept thinking: how about you stop telling me they are terrible and why I should be scared and SHOW me?  D’Meta did nothing because I didn’t see it happen like watching Loghain call the retreat after watching darkspawn slaughter the army. Another example in the beginning is after you get the dagger, you speak with Harding and you can discuss magic. Rook notes they know dwarves are called Children of the Stone. Five seconds later Harding goes in the most “I’m speaking to a toddler” tone: “Dwarves call ourselves Children of the Stone. Some of us have what we call Stone sense.” Like…Rook would know that??? If newbies are confused they can go look in the glossary (isn’t that what that’s for?) or give an option to ask a question. It just feels so fucking patronizing.

Then it spoils so much of the story with the Varric interludes, or repeats itself AGAIN when I think they are there for style and suspense. Like Varric I already know they need to craft a red lyrium dagger, they straight up TOLD ME. That scene didn’t need to be in there at all. Solas’ little monologue rehashing everything in the beginning was unnecessary, and honestly him just telling us who we were against without us first seeing how bad it was…just…It took the suspense out of it. Like imagine if Inquisition straight up told you that Corypheus was the baddie just immediately in the Temple of Sacred Ashes prologue scene. That’s what it felt like.

Which brings me to the dialogue and characters I suppose. The companions have the depth of a shallow pool and Rook has less. They have moments where I like them, but tbh I don’t really care for any of them because how could I? I can’t talk to them. It feels empty. I like that they have lights telling me when I have new dialogue, but I miss having conversations with Dorian or Zevran, getting to know them before I started flirting with them. But nope. None of that. And good god the flirting is cringey because of it. Just comes out of nowhere and feels like teenagers. Again, there are moments where I’m like: THAT DO THAT, but it goes right back to the blah stuff. Like whoever wrote the Crows, good job. I loved Teia almost immediately. Viago great. Illario, I’m intrigued. Lucanis by default also interests me, but unfortunately, I don’t get to explore his character much. Irelin is also good. I liked the Veil Jumper fight you could get into with Strife (felt like witnessing a father/child yelling match). Where’s that sort of dialogue with everyone else?

And ROOK. Oh god Rook. They make a big deal about us not being able to be a people pleaser, and yet that’s the only personality Rook has. My favorite moment of Inquisition was in Trespasser where the Inquisitor could FINALLY have a human moment and BREAK. It felt like they had been bottling it up for so long and they just couldn’t anymore. I don't foresee Rook getting that sort of moment.

Rook is just three flavors of customer service. There’s no option for them to be anything but the dashing hero who has boundless optimism like a puppy. Where’s the option be the reluctant hero? The ruthless “hero”? They are just a bumbling idiot with witty one liners.

They feel like a teenager’s first protag as they try to give them “flaws” but never show those flaws. Nothing you do matters, just how you say “yes I’ll help”. There’s no nuance. No places where I think Rook can grow without ME. Rook is just a blank doll without me projecting onto them and even in BIG supposedly heartwrenching moments, Rook is just an idiot. And put them with the juvenile and forced dialogue of the companions? It feels like they are a pre-teen who’s been put in charge of a bunch of toddlers while the nice uncle tries to soothe them and the abusive dad yells.

The abusive dad is Solas btw. Varric says he views us all as children, to which I want to reply: yeah and he’s a piece of shit dad who rubs their toddler’s face into their diaper going “LOOK AT THE MESS YOU MADE BAD BAD BAD!” Like honestly, you can tell it’s not the same people writing these characters. Solas feels like they decided the low approval Solas was the canon no matter what. In Inquisition I truly felt like he was redeemable. This Solas? Nah, I want to stab that bitch first chance. Like he’s giving me no reason to like him and he’s being a dick for no fucking reason. Maybe later on we learn a reason, but in 20 hours there’s ZERO. That’s a problem if you are trying to get me to see his side of things. And the tonal shifts from when he shows that he regrets stabbing Varric? Feel forced, like my dude I think you are lying just because you seem to be unable to comprehend half of this is YOUR fault.

Which ties into my last gripe: this is not MY Thedas. The decision to make only the last fifteen minutes of a paid DLC mean ANYTHING (and tbh I have yet to find where the hell it actually matters in 20 hours. I have two saves about the same amount of progress: one Solavellan and the other Dorian, they are basically the exact opposite choices. I can't say I've found where anything has changed, so what was that about them not wanting to do one bit of dialogue???? At least in Inquisition within the first two hours I could find those bits of dialogue) that decision made it where none of these characters matter to me. They feel more like carrots dangling in front of long-time players trying to entice us closer, but when you grab the carrot…it just vanishes.

That’s not MY Morrigan. That’s not MY Varric, MY Solas, MY Dorian. They are NewBioWare’s versions of them. The Inquisitor? The character I played over 100 hours as isn’t MINE. They are a stranger because they tore away any agency I had. They just picked whatever personality they wanted and said LOOK SEE CONNECTION. But there’s no history, no connection, NOTHING. There’s so many places where I can see where they could’ve done something. And if I can see them, why couldn’t anyone at BioWare?

They forgot that DA’s uniqueness wasn’t just the companions (and these ones are just below DA2’s since we didn’t get to interact with them either, so…), it was the world and how it reacted to choices in previous games. How new heroes might have to deal with the consequences (and to be fair, no DA game has ever actually managed to deliver on that, but they at least TRIED).

This though…

TL;DR: this should’ve felt like a homecoming and instead it feels like BioWare demolished my home, spray painted the ruins with soft pastels and is trying to tell me it’s the same, if not better. And it’s not, and probably never will be again.

[mahgck]

iliad alnst au with patrochilles mizisua and odydio lukahyuna (<- person who would pay to watch achilles beat odysseus into the ground)

[viperwhispered]

New goodies arrived while I was away!

More things by @mintmoth (shop here) and Malleus by @humbuns (shop here).

I just... Had to get that Malleus, I had no choice, and I've been debating the other two designs for a while (just didn't want to splurge on everything at once). So I'm very happy with all of these. 😊

Had to rearrange the magnets a bit but here they all (+ 1 sticker and 1 pin) are on the side of my PC. Don't let my phone's camera lie to you about the colors and about making some things look more washed out than they actually are irl.

Earlier stuff is from artsyco3xist (shop here), mintmoth and its.badradish (etsy here).

[whatudottu]

Regarding your cerebrocrustacean headcanons mentioned in the previous ask: they very well could be somewhat canon given how, when asked if Albedo and Dr. Psychobos would be willing to work together, Derrick J. Wyatt responded with "Psychobos seems like a total team up slut, he'll team up with any villain any time" (his words, not mine).

Which he likely meant in the sense of "Psychobos is so power-hungry he'll team up with anyone in order to get ahead", but with your headcanons and the fact he never talks much about his personal life in mind, you could alternatively interpret it as "Psychobos is so desperately lonely he'll accept anyone he has even the slightest similarity with into his clique, even members of a species he's violently xenophobic towards" (probably to cope with/serve as a rebound for his mancrush Azmuth friendzoning him /lh /hj).

Now all of this is making me realize that it was a massive missed opportunity in Omniverse to not have Psychobos' demeanor do a complete 180 around the people he works with compared to everyone else (whether sincere or a thinly-veiled manipulation tactic) if not solely for a few jokes. Especially him acting like an affectionate father figure towards Malware (whether he likes it or not) solely so he can rub it in Azmuth's face that "I'm a FAR more attentive and caring parental figure towards your creation than YOU ever were, and I use the term loosely".

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DJW SAID 'TEAM UP SLUT' HAHAH WHAT!? dear god it's true it's on the wiki what the fuck what the fuck assdfjhghsdlfkgfkl-!

I mean, look at his already canon group; Khyber, allegedly the greatest huntsman in the galaxy, teaming up with Dr Psychobos to make a little watch that can sample (specifically predatory) animals; and Malware, a technology absorbing mutant mechamorph, working with the cybernetically enhanced (also listed as a mutant???) cerebrocrustacean in order to make said watch- if liking the concept of animals and incorporating machines as part of oneself is enough to get into Dr Psychobos' clique well, he's certainly stretched what that means far enough to at least snag two others into his initial team up. Same can't be said for Attea and the incurseans which seems to be more of a sponsor type relationship, and Maltruant commissioned him to repair his body but violated the trade agreement so whether or not Psychobos would do business with the incurseans again, he's already squarely sequestered Maltruant in the outest of out-groups :P

Hah, the 'Dr Psychobos adopting Malware specifically to stick it to Azmuth' bit reminded me of a signing-the-adoption-papers version of the 'I throw my used car batteries in the ocean' thing- something along the lines of; [psychobos voice] "You are the most calamitous individual I have had the pleasure of meeting, and I use the term loosely." [malware voice, threateningly] "I have devoured and absorbed the specs of the Omnitrix." [psychobos signing adoption papers] [malware, experiencing the affects of cerebrocrustacean in-grouping and having no frame of reference on how to deal with it] "What the fuck is happening-"

[gemapples]

oc concept i've made called happy fever

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Cashing in on the open tag from the amazing @renmackree 💖

Here's a bit more from my current Sterek FWB AU - you don't see me. Derek continues to be straight (ha, sure) and Stiles continues to enable him. A li'l nsfw.

-

“I feel like I should argue, on account of your heterosexuality, and all,” Stiles says, tongue darting out to wet his lips for a second, “but I’m definitely way too horny to be a gentleman right now, so… get your pants off and get over here, Hale.”

Derek doesn’t quite trip and fall into a heap on the floor in his haste to step out of his shorts and briefs – but it’s a pretty near thing.

The clothes leave a dark cotton puddle behind his hurried footsteps, and it’s barely any time at all before he finds himself kneeing his way onto the bed, the soft mattress dipping beneath him as he chases Stiles towards the centre of it. Stiles has this huge, borderline ridiculous grin on his face as he watches Derek catch up to him, his eyes lidded, the brown almost entirely eaten up by the black of his pupils as he looks his fill.

In the mussed-up sheets, his fingers flex and unflex, pulling the fabric between his knuckles as he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. The inviting smile remains around it.

Without a word needing to pass between them, Stiles leans himself up and rolls himself over, flopping down onto his belly, the round of his perky ass now on full display for Derek’s laser focus. He pulls his legs underneath himself and shoves his shoulders against the bed, presenting himself face down and ass up, his knees shifting apart as he twists his head on the pillow to peer at Derek over his shoulder.

Derek knows he looks more than a little moronic right now; blinking down at Stiles with a gaping mouth, his hand curled tightly around his dick to stroke himself to full hardness – not that it takes much at all. But there’s very little he can do about it when it feels like his brain is threatening to leak out of his ears pretty much any second now.

“Condom?” he just about finds the cells to ask.

Immediately, he kind of really hates himself for even offering in the first place. Truly, he cannot think of something on this godforsaken earth that he wants more than to feel Stiles' tight, hot asshole clinging around his raw cock.

But it's what he should do; it's the right thing to do. So, even as he burns to bite them back, he lets the words spill from his lips just like acid, all the same.

Derek's skin grows hot with a renewed hunger when Stiles gives a quick shake of his head.

“I’m not seeing anyone. Still clean.” He shoves his forearms beneath the pillow he rests his head against, hips hitching just that little bit backwards, still not quite close enough for any skin-to-skin contact. “You?”

Derek feels something settle in the deep recesses of his bones, hearing that from Stiles. A question, unasked but introspectively obsessed upon, all the same, has been nudging at his bristling consciousness ever since Scott and Allison’s engagement party. A question of whether anything had blossomed from Scott practically forcing Stiles to meet that loser Brad.

He knows that they swapped numbers, couldn’t get away from the conversation fast enough to avoid hearing Stiles telling Scott all a-fucking-bout it. But he could never find the right way to ask Stiles whether anything came of that exchange; whether this… thing between them, between Derek and Stiles, had a quickly approaching expiry date, because somebody finally clued up and realised that Stiles is quite possibly the ultimate gay catch.

With a deep-seated sense of tranquility, he knows, now. Stiles isn’t seeing anyone. Stiles is still in this, with him. Stiles is still… his.

Whatever the fuck that means.

“Yeah,” Derek finally answers Stiles’ returned question. “Still clean, too.”

Stiles flashes him a grin, all teeth and promise.

“Then what are you waiting for, big guy?” he goads. “I was ready before you even joined the party.”

-

Low low low pressure tags 🥰 @dear-massacre @eevylynn @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop @violetfairydust

[thatonepikminperson]

OH FRICK I FORGOT THE DAMN WARNINGS AND READ MORE DAMN IT PAST ME UH BLOOD AND MURDER BELOW FUCK

Oops, all murder!

[saltwatersweets]

i like to imagine that sometime in between ep7 and ep8, charlie takes vaggie to cannibal town to help train some of the residents who will fight in the upcoming extermination, and while visiting vaggie sees the kid she spared and maybe gets to have a proper conversation with him and/or his family