#i know for sure it wasnt intended that way but like. still

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

it's late at night the brain is not to be trusted it's late at night it's not to be trusted it's late at night the brain is not to be trusted it's

[phagodyke]

man I think I fucked uuuuppppp a little 😭

[octoberautumnbox]

Off*IZ: Like It Like I Love It

Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, doggy, semi-public, semi-mirror, semi-exhibitionist, office sex, clothed sex, sweat if it counts?, standing doggy, anal, anal creampie, little bit of thigh stuff I think

Word count: 4.2k

Part of Off*IZ Hours

a/n: i worked on so many other drafts on and off this month i really wasnt sure if I'd be able to pull something off this month but we back to our regular programming LMAO :DDDD

“Thank you, everyone. I know we took longer than we should have,” the project head places his glasses on his forehead before rubbing his eyes, “but we pulled through today. Good work.” All around the conference table, you and your coworkers stretch in various ways and groans emanate from random people in the room. As people start to get up and leave, you overhear muttering about plans after work and what each other’s weekends will be like. 

You do your own stretches and check your watch: 7:54 p.m., nearly three hours later than you should have left. A sigh escapes you, finding yourself already tired from dealing with the lowlife drunks on the bus you’ll be riding with in about half an hour. You grasp around in the dark for a bright side to all of this, but nothing’s coming up so far, except...

“Hey, heading out?” Miss Jo taps you on your shoulder a bit roughly: not enough to hurt, but enough to shove you a little. She stands behind you, her fingers delicately wrapped around the edge of her folder, and a smile painting her cute face. Over the course of your tenure in the company, as well as the fact that the Operational Support Department is only two people strong, you and your boss have gotten to know each other very well.

“Maybe you wanna have a drink with me? God knows we both need it,” she giggles. The petite woman abruptly shuts her eyes solemnly and sucks air in through her teeth, then releases it in a drawn-out yawn. She blinks out the sleep in her eyes before attempting to look at you again. 

“Are you sure? You seem a bit tired.” You spin her around to face away from you and place your hands on her shoulders. You push your thumbs firmly and massage the spot in the middle of her back, and tell her, “Breathe, Miss Jo.”

Her head lolls back, showing you a dimly glowing smile and fluffy cheeks underneath a pair of half-lidded eyes. She breathes out slowly through her mouth, her lips parted ever so slightly, and good thing everyone’s already left the conference room at this point, else they’d start asking questions. 

“Maybe I am tired…” she breathes out slowly, only loud enough for you and no one else to hear. As you listen, your hands travel down her slim arms and onto her waist, and as she tilts her head to the side, you plant a kiss right on her neck. “Maybe… maybe I do want to go home,” her moan comes carefully, as if fighting back a mountain of urges. “Maybe I want to, I don’t know, take a shower?” Your hands slide up her sides, cupping her petite boobs through her top. She giggles again, she brings her hands to yours. 

“And no more ‘Miss Jo,’ please. We're done for the day, remember?” She pulls your hands off her, winking, before hurriedly dragging you out of the conference room. Her steps are joyful and frantic towards the parking lot with you still in tow. She never looks back, one clear goal in mind: get you home, take her shower, get fucked out. A perfect Friday night, like God intended. 

She’s so focused that she fails to notice until it’s too late that you yank her into a secluded printing room, lock the door, and forget to turn on the light. She stumbles into your chest, and the dim reflections of nightlife from outside the window are the only things that let you see the fire in her eyes. 

Yuri wraps her arms around your neck, trapping you in a torrid kiss as your tongues dance around each other, swapping spit and breathy moans. Her lips are soft on yours, with hints of strawberry from her lip balm that only make you want her more. 

Hook her leg under your arm, grip her ass through her jeans, grind her crotch against yours. All she can do at this point is hold on to you for dear life as your kiss continues, never giving her the privilege of catching her breath. In spite of all this, her nerve to fight back surfaces: her tongue enters your mouth and licks everywhere she can reach, and she shamelessly lets her spit leak from her luscious lips and onto her chin. 

At this point the heat gets to both of you, not only from each other but also from the general lack of air-conditioning in the room this late into the night. Sweat collects into bigger and bigger drops on her neck, and your determination to steal every single one overtakes you. You kiss and lick over every spot of exposed and vulnerable skin you can find, and it messes with her head somehow even more than forcing kisses on her ever did.

A bright idea enters your head though, and not so gently, you shove and pin her to a nearby wall. A deep thud rings across the room, followed by a slight creak and groan from the wood holding up the wall inside it. The impact forces air out her lungs, but ultimately she regains her breath and stares at you, shellshocked, before releasing her grip on you. 

“Don’t forget, asshole,” she grunts, playing trying to get free, “I'm still your fucking boss.” Yuri almost slams her face into yours, sorely missing the feeling of your lips on hers. Her tongue travels all over inside your mouth, and what can you do but show her the same sort of fervor?

“I'm also still fucking my boss,” you choke out, still struggling against the onslaught of Yuri's tongue. All the while, her needy moans fill the room with every single hump on her crotch. She tries speeding it up, but with how you're holding her ass, you're fully in control. 

And she fucking loves it. 

With one hand keeping you in place, her other hand works on stripping herself of her jeans. Your position gradually gets more awkward, but the moment her pants leave her ass and you feel up her cheeks, now only covered with a pair of thin lace panties, your hunger for your boss's delicious body only grows.

Her pants drop to around her ankles and suddenly they're gone from her world. Yuri's next target is your slacks, and she makes even quicker work of them. It takes just the blink of an eye before they're gone too, and she’s alternating between palming your stiffening cock and massaging your balls through your underwear.

“I didn't know I was this tired,” she remarked, her breath unstable against your mouth. Her head rests against the wall, her arms on your shoulders, and you finally let her catch her breath. “Oh, by the way,” she wheezes between deep inhales, “we’re setting up the laptops for the new hires tomorrow– I need you to come in at 8.” 

“Come in here? Like ‘office’ here? Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you say, mixing into your voice a tone of sternness. You caress her cheek, and she nuzzles into your palm. She knows exactly what’s coming up next, but she waits for you to let her. It has to be you, you both know it, so as your hand meets her shoulder and pushes her down, she falls slowly, gracefully, to her knees.

Eye level with your bulge, she runs her tongue along her lips seductively while looking up at you. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear and she pulls down slowly, teasing you when she knows she shouldn’t. Your cock springs up and nearly misses her chin, but she makes a show of catching it with her face. She smiles up at you, your cock resting on her beautiful features, all the while she peppers light kisses along the underside of your shaft. 

“Yeah, 8 a.m. tomorrow. We’re setting up VPNs and loading all the shit onto them.” Her kisses soon turn into licks, as if she’s made it her mission in life to trace every single one of your cock’s veins using her tongue. Her eyes flutter closed as she relishes in the taste and scent of your manhood, hellbent on worshiping it like the slut she knows she is. 

“Fine, but I’m spending the night at yours. Make me come into work on a weekend, feed me breakfast.”

“Fine, but you’re driving tomorrow. Can’t do it if my legs don’t work.”

She retreats back for a bit, lining up your cock with her mouth as she eyes it with a lustful greed. She comes in close again, and her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock as she slowly takes more and more in. Her lips seal around your shaft, sucking it like it’s the feast of her lifetime. 

Take advantage of her position, guide her head to rest against the wall. She almost doesn’t notice, but the moment she does, her eyes meet yours to send a single, unmistakeable, desperate message: “Please.”

You plunge your cock deep into her mouth, using the wall behind her to force her to take as much of your length as she can. She chokes and gags, but ultimately her tongue never leaves the underside of your dick and chooses instead to use the copious amounts of spit to make her blowjob all the more pleasurable for you. Yuri’s cheeks hollow out as she tries sucking your soul out, and only then are you made aware of the lewd slurping sounds she’s making. Her adoration of your cock makes itself known like it always does, and you wonder for a split second how lucky you came to be to have such a nice boss. 

She pushes herself off of you with a loud pop, and you find her hair unkempt and sticking to her forehead in strands, licking her lips like she’s just had the best meal of her life. She flashes a smile at you before getting up, and what comes next feels like the most natural thing for the two of you. She gets up and pulls you by the necktie toward the window, you’ve always known she was this type of girl, and she places both palms on the glass. 

“You know what to do.” Her voice is deep and serious, and you're compelled to obey. Your fingers slip under the waistband of her panties, and you pull down to reveal her plump ass. The wet feeling running down Yuri's legs makes her moan quietly, and as the fabric leaves her body you see her thighs glisten with slick and perspiration, reflecting the clueless city's lights.

Your hands travel up her thighs, and you feel her goosebumps under your touch. Now standing behind her, you take in the situation: your boss is bent over, presenting her bare ass and dripping pussy to you, while her hands are splayed onto the cool, transparent glass of the printing room window. Place your hands on her hips, grip securely and show her how bad you want her. Pull her slowly towards you, and as you do, find her looking back at you with unbridled lust in her gaze.

The tip of your cock meets her sinful entrance, and her gaze remains steady and burning on you. “Come on already,” she taunts seductively. She bites her lip in anticipation and you decide not to make her wait any longer. 

You rub your hard cock on her pussy lips, coating your shaft with her juices, before finally plunging yourself into her. Her lips part for you, and as you push deeper into her wet cavern she lets out a low, guttural moan. Her reflection in the glass shows you her eyes are shut tight and tighter still as she feels you slowly filling up her pussy, and her fingers flex against the glass as she tries to find something, anything, to hold onto. 

“Fuck– God, the first one is always the best, huh?” A casual laugh follows her statement, and she looks back at you again. A tiny smile decorates the corners of her mouth, and the odd lighting around you gives her an aura of mysterious, forbidden beauty. 

“Will you behave for me, Yuri?” You rub and grope her ass as you say it, threatening a spank. It doesn't help though, you know your boss loves being put in her place. The thought you implant into her head causes her pussy to quiver, and in turn causes your cock to twitch against her walls. 

“Oh my go– Yes, daddy,” she surrenders, “I'll be your good baby girl.” She lets her head hang forward, having completely given up control to you, all primed and ready to receive your blessing. Her breaths are deep, slow, ragged, choosing instead to focus solely on the onslaught of pleasure you're about to inflict on her tight, delicious, fertile body.

Thrust into her again, as deep as her cunt lets you, and your tip kisses the entrance of her womb. She lurches slightly forward with a grunt, and you almost swear her pussy is made just for you. The way her walls clench around your cock as it twitches again and again inside her makes you think you’re the key to her lock, a match made in hell.

“Daddy, do I feel good? Do you like my pussy?” Yuri’s moans and pleas for your approval only spur you on. She melts under your touch, your hand returning to her ass and threatening her pleasure again. It’s about time you give her what she wants, and she has been a good girl so far, so why the fuck not?

You raise your palm and she watches, her eyes trailing higher and higher. All at once, you bring your hand down with the force and speed Yuri knows is perfect, what she knows she deserves. Your skin meets hers and a slap rings clear across the room, followed by an immoral moan escaping from her throat. 

“Fuck, daddy! It hurts so good–” she gasps, all the while you maintain a slow pace. Your thrusts in her are rhythmic and steady, but in no way soft or merciful. With every pump of pleasure you deliver into her body from behind, she lurches forward again and again, absolutely no time at all to recover with the cumulative brain fog clouding her thoughts, all the while her tight little pussy clenches and squeezes your cock like it’s the last time she’ll ever have you. 

Keep fucking her deep and rough, keep forcing your will onto her body. She submits wholeheartedly to you, pushing her ass back on you each time you shove your cock into her, trying to steal more mind-numbing goodness from you. As if having lost control of her voice, her moans are continuous if not for her need to breathe every once in a while. On one hand, you know her body well, and it’s telling you that she’s growing impatient – she signed up for a railing after all. On the other hand, so what? It’s your fucktoy to use however you want to.

Yank her hair back, pull her right up against your chest. One hand on her toned tummy, the other wrapped around her slender, sweaty neck. Her own hands stay respectfully splayed on the glass, and she’s damn near defenseless like this: she wouldn’t dare defy you in any way. Whisper right into her ear, teasingly and tauntingly, “Until what time do we stay tomorrow?”

She chokes back a sob, only half-successful, only half-focused. “N-not later than one th-thirty,” she struggles, on the verge of tears, “only eighte-teen unitssss…” She sucks as much air as she can through her teeth, your slow and methodical onslaught on her sex unrelenting. “We… we…” Her brain fog must be so thick right now, having finally lost the ability to form complete thoughts. It’s now you know there’s nothing left of her except the desire for more of her ecstasy, just the way you like her. 

All at once, thrust fast and thrust hard. It’s something she couldn’t have possibly predicted, and her surprise numbs her entire body save for her pussy that convulses violently around your cock. Her velvet walls squeeze and massage your entire length, and her love juices coat your shaft before the rest make its way down her creamy, jiggling thighs. She screams loud as her face is smushed against the glass, her arms pinned against the window pane for as much support as she can get. Each following thrust into her pushes her up and up against the glass even more, until there’s no more space between her and the window, nor between you and her. 

Completely victim to you, her eyes wander up and up until they point to the ceiling. Her mouth hangs open as her breath fogs up the glass, still punctuated with rhythmic grunts each time your tip kisses the entrance of her womb. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeats with every thrust, rubbing her face slightly more against the window. If only she could still fathom how easily someone could look up and see her taking your dick, but that's not important now. Her eyes are rolled to the back of her head, her breathing is unsteady, and the flex of her fingers tells you again that she's close. 

Deny her climax just a little more, you're sure she'll understand. Just as you push back into her, eliciting her next crass word, you forcefully pull out of her heat. She tightens impossibly hard again in an effort to keep you inside her, but the sheer amount of her slick fails her. A few seconds pass and she's able to look down, and the sight of your thick and hard cock between her thighs and right up against her pussy does something to her head. It's exactly when her tongue peeks from her mouth and runs all over her lips that you know she's desperate, reduced to nothing more than a simple-minded slut who wants you and you alone. 

“I'm gonna take your ass, baby girl, and you're gonna fucking like it.” Your words are gentle yet daunting against her eardrums, and her pussy lips quiver against your cock again as she jerks her hips forward exactly once and releases the perfect amount of her juices onto your dick. “Yes, daddy…” she replies, holding back her orgasm for a few more moments, knowing that you like it best when she cums while you’re inside her. 

Yuri waits in anticipation as you poke her asshole with your cock. Her eyes draw shut, head leaning solemnly on the glass, as if praying that she survives the rough anal fucking she's about to receive. 

Since when did you get so mean? Making a lady wait like this. And yet, the way she squirms in depraved pleasure under the constant threat of your cock is just so delicious, you really can't help but use her, play with her like this. 

Having had your fill of teasing her, you give her exactly what she wants. You enter her puckered hole slowly, and yet she takes you in like the good girl she always aims to be. The walls of her ass are just as pleasurable as her pussy, and her tightness in her back entrance is just as perfect as her cunt. The slick coating your cock is her only saving grace against having her asshole torn apart, but with the way she clenches around you so well and how she groans in ecstasy, you think maybe she wouldn’t mind either way. 

Your boss half-screams as you invade her repeatedly from behind, starting slow and steady while tears start to form in the corners of her eyes. Her sweaty cheek still on the window, you watch as a line of spit runs from her lip down the pane, just as a drunkard wobbling across the sidewalk in the street down below finally catches you two in the act. It seems he's still figuring out what he's seeing, so you have just a few more moments left in the printing room before the dots connect in his head.

“G–guh,” Yuri grunts as she taps against the glass. It seems she spotted him too, and is trying to warn you of the same. “It doesn't matter, baby, I'll take care of it.” Your reassurance works a bit too well, and her eyes shut again as she breathes out and relaxes. 

Stay true to your promise, make sure she gets a hell of a taste of the night she’s only about to have. Quickly, carelessly, ruthlessly, piston deep into her asshole. Her walls try their hardest to accommodate you, but ultimately lose the fight and are forced apart anyway. 

“Aaahhhh– AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” Yuri’s heavenly voice is corrupted to sing a perverted symphony. She’s reduced again, from your boss to your personal slut to now just some instrument for your unholy pleasure. Each thrust into her ass sends her riding up the window again, smearing her spit and perspiration all over the glass and her slick all over her creamy thighs. You shoot a cursory look back to the drunk on the street, noticing his eyes widening as his fried brain starts its search for words. You’re running out of time. 

Pound her mercilessly, remind her of her place in your own shared little world. All it takes is just a few more thrusts into her hole until she finally lets it all loose. Your moans mix with hers in the secluded space, and her willingness to serve you brings you ever closer to the edge. 

Just as the drunkard figures out how to point up and mumble his most basic words, you explode right into your boss, filling her plump ass up with your thick and hot seed. A shameless scream rips across her throat, “FUCKKKKK!!!” and her ass tightens around your cock like she owes her life to you, hell-bent on repaying her debt in kind tenfold. Streams of her own cum squirt out of her in jets, splattering on the wall and all over her crotch and thighs. She bucks her hips again and again, having lost any semblance of control over her body and mind, each spurt of your baby batter pushing itself into her body simultaneously pushing another of the already very scarce thoughts out of her head. What’s worse is it keeps coming, the realization dawning on you just as her ass overflows and your cum starts running down her legs, that your desire and output were heightened severely by how pent-up the both of you were. 

You pull Yuri down and duck to the floor right as the drunk finally musters enough of his wits together to point and scream. You hear him from the ground, and as far as you can tell he’s there on the street pointing up at an empty window and gathering weird looks from the other passers-by. All the while, you’ve just finished pumping your boss full of cum while she’s still squirming and jerking weakly as her own climax dies down. 

The room once filled with moans and grunts is now silent save for your combined heavy breathing. The heat once again makes itself known to the both of you, best evidenced by her sweat pooling on the ground where her head lay. Pulling out of her, more of your cum flows out of her ass, deepening Yuri’s breathing as she tries wiping more sweat off her brow.

“You good?” Your question is far too innocent for what the two of you just did. All she can do in response is to nod slightly, and maybe offer a drained but satisfied smile. Confirming her condition, you lean over and kiss her on the cheek before lying back down next to her, giving yourself a moment as well to catch your own breath. 

Yuri turns and places her head on your chest, rising and falling with your breathing. She feels your heartbeat and synchronizes her breathing with it, grateful for some semblance of structure back into her life, but at the same time her dependence on you grows yet again, just like she loves it. 

“We can maybe do breakfast muffins tomorrow on the way, no time to cook and all.” You wrap your arm around her and secure her in a cozy embrace. The floor is much cooler than the air in the higher altitudes of the enclosed space you two occupy, and the situation threatens to steal you off to slumber. 

Yuri manages a nod and a mumble and a kiss on your neck. She pushes herself off the floor, yawns, and stretches. “Do you wanna just come in Sunday instead? Stay the weekend with me?” she asks earnestly, crawling to your discarded clothes to retrieve. She hands you yours, and as she does you plant a wet kiss on her lips. 

“As if being here on Sunday is better than Saturday.” 

“Literally nobody's here on Sunday. We can turn up the aircons.” Your boss nuzzles into your neck again, evidently still addicted to your essence. Her afterglow and the low lights only enhance her beauty to near-godlike levels, and it works perfectly to her advantage.

“Fine. But your ass is mine all weekend.”

She giggles, “Fine, as if it isn't already.”

~~~

a/n: for everyone who reads this far look forward to more off*iz from our other very lovely writers!

[coriphallus]

DA: The Veilguard Spoiler review pt2 - The Grime

this is a hard one to tackle without strawmaning anyone because itll be a direct response to alot of defense ive seen for the games morality system so ill just start by saying, iykyk

never a genre has been better equipped to discuss ethics than the interactive medium of games and yes, bioware games have been doing it since baldurs gate and no, theyve not always been 'centrist' and 'conservative'. im not even gonna entertain that idea. do you remember the cultural landscape DA:O released to? the landscape it was developed in? dont give me that just because zevran doesnt write in his little notes -that you can conveniently read- 'gay good. not me but me bisexual'

Thedas is a flawed world and its a world thats just as desperate to hang on to its status quo as our own. every time you play an elf thats thriving, or a human thats queer, or a mage thats not institutionalised you exist in a world that doesnt want you, it is an act of defiance that you do.

im sure we can all see why these games were so popular with the audience they can only weakly try to pander to today.

derailing time again; so one of my favourite paintings of all time is saturn devouring his son. it makes me feel so uncomfortable that it gave me nightmares as a child, and i still cant look at it without feeling this knot in my throat. i hate it. i hate how it makes me feel, how that man looks at me in terror like its begging me for help while cannibalising another. weird story but i was bewitched by that painting as a little kid.

it is not a well drawn painting, the proportions are all over the place, brush strokes crude and inelegant. it doesnt even have a deeper story nor was it intended for an audience. i will never know what goya thought of when drawing it.

i thought alot about that painting later in my life when i was struggling with mental health problems, i thought about goya alot too as an adult and after learning about his life. i stared at his paintings and remembered when i told my dad that i hated [saturns] big eyes and hed jokingly said "it would be scarier if he didnt have eyes"

i know what the drawing looks like now, nearly everyone with a little access to the internet does. if somebody removed saturn from it, we'd still be left with a brutalised headless carcass of a man in a canvas too big for itself. if we removed that too all we'd be left with would be void.

i dont want to live in a world where all i know of goya is his rococo work, i dont want to stare at the painting of a void knowing what filled it before. i hated every second of germinale but i never wanted it to be anything other than itself, the story it tells could never hold credence otherwise.

DAV has done its best to paint over it, but its still on the old canvas and i cant look away from the negative space its left, i know whats under it and it unsettles me, infuriates me. it hands me a palette with baby blues and pinks and tells me to paint over it to make a prettier painting. didnt i hate the eyes? wasnt it gross before?

i am not going to write why we need some grime in art, but its absence is disheartening. and to those who say hanged people in the streets or blighted villagers is dark and mature ill say no. its a kids idea of maturity, its the aesthetic of it with no substance. it means nothing to me if rook can just drench themselves in gallons of blight as they crawl through it. the horror of blight has never been the black goo and slimy tentacles, or the monster woman with way too many tits. it is watching people you love slowly fade away, it is a woman who was forced to cannibalise the contaminated flesh of her friends because the woman she loved betrayed her, it was the sheer scale and inevitability of it.

one area we go to is overrun by it and the game begs me to feel hopeful that flowers are growing again when it never let me lose hope. people have already prevailed, they have roofs over their heads and a steady supply of food on their tables. their spirit is unwavering.

its bad, everybody says. the sky is grey and soil is blackened, as my rook turns some statues to access a haunted house whos inhabitants are long gone and the only story they could ever tell is gone with them.

if the question is do i want to see famine? plague? misery? abuse? assault? the answer is yes. yes. i want to see it all of the filth. i rather face the fucking monster head on with its big bulging eyes and misshapen limbs than stare at the abyss its absence leaves on the canvas.

and if nothing else, this bastardization is disrespectful to the people who gave the IP its fame.

Why choose to be good?

back in the bsn days ive wondered why, even in a fictional universe where your choices have no real-life repercussions what-so-ever, players had more 'good' playthroughts than 'bad'?

what happens when you start killing NPCs, when youre needlessly mean to them? the game actively closes off its own content. you get less out of the game. just as, completely incidentally, you'd get less out of your life if you just started killing everyone around you. The world would be emptier, youd be alone.

in that quote i stole from good place chidi doesnt ask "why be good?" the wording is painfully deliberate. doing good is always a choice, and often not the easy one. what makes the act matter is that you chose to do it, even when given 6 other options not to. did i stop in the middle of an important quest to help a man retrieve an heirloom from a darkspawn infested hut? did i hear what that heirloom meant to him?

i cant stop thinking about that speech ever since playing this game after knowing its predecessors.

So, why do it then? Why choose to be good, every day, if there is no guaranteed reward we can count on, now or in the afterlife? I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.

i cant stop looking at this game that spits on its own legacy and think how could they have missed what fundamentally makes us human so bad, what makes us relate and empathise with eachother. what makes us pick the option to interact with an npc who openly hates what hawke is, and allow us to see the traumatised man underneath.

these characters of fiction are written by real people. i have absolutely nothing in common with a guy from canada yet for a brief moment in time i feel a sense of camaraderie as ive felt with goya that i couldnt articulate as a kid.

Nothing too terrible

DAV says it over and over again -as its wont to do with every piece of its flimsy morality- that people can change, people can be redeemed yet it shines as the game with most static characters in its franchise. it simply says things, and since it has nothing to show for it it makes sure to say it repeatedly, in case you missed it.

so when i first played DAO i was in high school, i started with a human noble because fresh out of dark side edgy kotor fame i wanted to be a posh brat. also because, ya kno, we were poor my entire life up until that point and i wanted to have power.

i committed to it, even as the game stripped cousland of everything he had, because i thought a man like him would. i picked the racist options, the sexist options, the options a man in couslands place would. halfway point of the game as i exhausted the initial dialogues something happened; this man who got paid to kill people, who showed no remorse nor care for his victims, begged my cousland to stil his blade.

and i did. i thought maybe he would be as confused as i was, maybe he had a moment of clarity but from thereon bit by bit he was less of an asshole. the characters grew around me, and my character grew around them. i chose to be good because -textually- we were in this together, at the end of all things.

rook is not a character, theyre a mascot. and quite frankly i think they may be a very evangelical mascot because they remind me of evangelical preachings of jesus more than the man from the bible (and i say this as someone whos only exposure to christianity has been through foreign media and the bible ive read that one time). they are the epitome of do no evil and their existence hinges on the frail concept of moral purity. theyre not a person trying to do good, who wants to be good, they are 'good'

-and lemme tell you its a wild choice to have someone like that locked in a prison of 'regret'-

rook can be mean to only one person in the game, and thats someone they dont even have a personal beef with for the most part. but even then they would be shouting at a wall because the game doesnt only undermine them with its narrative, but also every npc in the game suddenly gets possessed by the ghost of wattpad rejects past for a moment to tell them everyone can be redeemed. and i believe it because i played the other games, i believe it because i know zevran and sten and morrigan, isabela and thom and iron bull and dorian. i know it because i can see the vague shapes behind the new coat of paint but i am not rook.

so no, the game fails to get people-can-change points by its own merit, and it cannot gain points from its prequels because it destroyed them. none of those characters i watched grow exist in this universe. zevran cant exist with DAV crows, fenris` story cant exist in an imperium with invisible slaves only glimpsed through empty cages and broken chains left scattered on the ground. i dont know which morrigan this NPC is, is it the woman who grew to learn kindness, who begged to sleep with her friend just to save them despite knowing it would play into the plans of a destiny she so desperately tried to break free from? or is she the clever puppet her mother groomed her to be who wanted to harness the power of a god? i dont know her, i dont know this dorian or this isabela beyond their names ipso facto this is not a sequel.

bellara asks an assassin why he is trying to save the world and his answer is "ive done some things in the past im not too proud of. nothing too terrible, but some of it was bad." and i can hear the games desperation for me to not engage with its material in that 'nothing too terrible'

lucanis never killed anyone innocent, taash never harmed an animal they could shoo of or reason with, emmrich venerates the dead and is friends with every wisp he pulls to use in menial labour, davrin joined the wardens willingly because he wanted to do good...

rook tells harding that her anger is justified when shes not even allowed anger of her own.

nothing too terrible.

aside from creating boring and nonsensical and static characters it creates a dreadful echochamber that we're forced to sustain. No taash is not valid, their gender is but their behaviour is not and for the character to grow and mature it needs to be addressed. lucanis doesnt need to be pampered in shock blankets he needs to see how repressing his problems and jeopardising his health puts people around him in danger etc etc. they are adults and they need to learn more complex ways of healing. and if rooks flaw is that theyre an enabler, then that needs to be acknowledged by the narrative in some way too, and not mindlessly endorsed because they say some buzzwords.

none of these interpersonal relationships feels real because none of these people feel real beyond some draft of themes and tropes. some interactions literally remind me of two bots in facebook comments

i look at this dialogue wheel with familiar symbols and all im reminded of is hawke telling carver he carries every death with him, of him telling his uncle that he wasnt fast enough, of him begging the person he loves to tell him that his mothers death wasnt his fault.

and they dont. they just sit there with him.

[sparrowlucero]

i enjoy ur bird abode thoughts! I was a genuine enjoyer of the show when it was airing, I’m no die hard fan though and love to see ppls personal takes on the overall story/plot. Im curious if you also would agree or have any thoughts on the impacts The Mouse’s cancellation had on the shows ability to be more than it was? srry im not super eloquent with my words, but basically ur response to that ask got me wondering if part of the reason the show like genuinely wasnt all that ground breaking or unique in the end plot wise (other than the villain faces consequences in the end ig) as far as YA/Teen animation goes, was because of The Mouse’s inability to let the writers flesh out the show before gutting it? i have a negative bias toward The Mouse franchise and obviously dont know anything about how writing a show under the eyes of a franchise that big would work, its just smth that rattles around in my head and wanna know what u think!

Well to an extent, but I think it's much more the effect the studio had on how the owl house started out as rather than it not getting a full season at the end - It didn't escape my noticed that the show was initially announced as being a "horror comedy" when it doesn't really seem like either, especially by the second season, and yeah, the original pitch bible is obviously aiming for that much more than the show proper is as it goes along (and is honestly seems quite a bit more funny, weird, and dark, with an overarching plotline about a giant bug being used to religiously suppress people, eda able to cure her curse by killing luz, and one of the major characters being a teen boy awoken from a sleeping curse who ends up being a weird little bigot because he's from the 13th century, among other things)

(side note, i just noticed they actually specifically describe the thing i assumed the show was gonna be about here. huh.) but ultimately the bulk of the show that was actually made seems very influenced by a writing team that was genuinely interested in making a tropey YA fantasy story rather than just being mandated to. I mean even in what aired you can see the show sort of settle in ways that feel less like studio interference and more like, you know, art students creating their ideal fantasy show, like how King is clearly Eda's roommate who's funny because he looks like and sounds like a little dog despite being an adult man at the beginning but by the end they've made him her adopted sad backstory son who's explicitly a child. While I think a third season would have made the show as it existed better, because they clearly didn't get to finish the plot they wanted to (frankly to the point where some major aspects of the show are a bit confusing, I'm still not sure what a grimwalker is), I don't really fault the show for that but also don't think that hypothetical season (which pretty clearly would have been mostly about the magic school teens going to normal school) would suddenly flip around into something that I personally found interesting and subversive. Nor should it, really; again, it being Queernorm Harry Potter thing is clearly the intended appeal of the show, it's not really a flaw but just not a genre I'm personally interested in when compared to what I initially expected the show to be.

HOWEVER I will say they robbed little weird girls of their representation and that can't be forgiven

[sheepispink]

Yknow when you randomly have a dream about someone, like a random person u see in the hallway or just literally a friend of a friend. Ok imagine this, but it’s Simon Riley in your dream. (technically platonic, and fully sfw)

(Simons reaction , He dreams of you )

———

You consider yourself to be pretty attentive to your job, even so far as to push out the chance of a romantic relationship whilst you balance it. Infact, you’re so dedicated it’s been years since you’d even had a partner. Alright, maybe that’s not exactly something to brag about. Point is, it’s hard to juggle a relationship in the military. Between deployments, utmost secrecy and the constant pressure from your commanding officer, it’s tough to even text your friends on a weekday let alone have to reassure a partner. It’s not like relationships between soldiers are allowed anyway, considering the threat that could cause others in times of emotional turmoil.

So, since your first day, you’ve barely had any romantic interaction if not none at all. And you intended to keep it that way, well at least, the front part of your brain did.

Johnny knew something was up with you, the problem was that he just couldnt place where it laid at all. You were all cheery with Gaz, holding intrigue to all the extensive topics Price liked to talk about with you— plus you even sat together in your free time to learn how he draws so well. But he just couldn't fathom why you had suddenly never been seen near Ghost. Sure, he never really interacted that much with anyone outside the taskforce, but you were practically part of it now with how often you were included in their get togethers.

It’s been going on since a few days after the last mission you and Ghost had returned from. He had been your lieutenant for it, a one off, and only lasted two weeks anyway. The week you had returned, the taskforce had bundled into the common room for a premier league match, everyone save for you watching intently. Ghost hadnt arrived just yet, but when he did, Johnny took his eyes off the screen for the first time to see you instantly stand up straight, make an excuse and scurry elsewhere.

That wasn't the first time though. You sat farthest from him in debriefings, even going as far to make sure he wasn't anywhere in your line of view, changed your training times that would usually clashed with Ghosts. It was safe to say that you were avoiding the large man like he was the damn plague. At first, Johnny had questioned if it was Ghost’s fault, seeing as he wasnt typically one to soften a blow or have much mercy. Though, when he posed a question about the mission he just shrugged and said you did well, as you usually did. “Half the base is scared o’ me, what’s another?” The masked man had scoffed, eyebrows furrowing a lot more than they usually would before he pushes the weights up again before lowering them down with a strain of his muscles.

So now Johnny had no choice— he’d have to get the truth directly from you.

“Alright spit it, you got a crush on the Lt or wha’ ?”

He had just snatched the gun from your hands, leaving you annoyed as you tried to grab it back from him to continue your practice. “I do not have a crush on anyone! You know i’m dedicated to my work.” You complain, still trying (and failing) to get the right angle and get your gun back from him. However, before he can question you further, Gaz conveniently appears, a small grin on his face.

“Not a crush per say, but definitely some thoughts.” He gives Johnny a cheeky look, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks forward towards you two. “She’s been having dreams.”

“Gaz!”

“How come you told him about your steamy dreams and not me?”

“They’re not steamy!” You snap at him, causing a few of the other soldiers to turn around. Now you’re all groaning, especially you with two men desperately trying to embarass you in this training room.

The problem was that when the sleep after the last deployment stopped feeling like a coma, your mind began to wander in your sleep again. It started out simple, maybe it was you and Soap in a cartoon you used to watch when you were a kid. Maybe you and Gaz were fighting off some crazy invasion with zombies and the like. Whatever it was, it was lighthearted and funny, something you’d tell them and you’d all snicker over. Though this one, these occuring dreams with Ghost— they were very different. It wasnt just the contents, the hand holding, the soft words and whispers, it was the way it made your heart spike, like it never has before. Definitely not in a way you’ve ever thought about with the Lieutenant either. First you thought that maybe it wasnt him, plenty of people wore masks around base, and you’ve seen a fair shair of masked men before. It was likely someone else, that’s it, something silly your mind brewed up since you were feeling more relaxed these days, happier. By the end of this week you were proven sorely wrong as you had yet another two dreams with him in it.

You huff and cross your arms over your chest, eyes averted to the floor. “Okay, okay, can we just take this outside?”

—

You should’ve remembered to make Johnny swear he’d never tell Ghost, because now you were sat beside the man himself as he glanced down at you. It’s obvious he knows—even the damn captain teased you about it earlier. “Whatever Soap told you, it’s not like that.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to preserve some dignity despite the fact Ghost now knew all about the way your mind wanders when you fall asleep. Surprisingly, there’s an amused glint in his eye as he leans back on the couch, huffing out a gruff chuckle. “Sure looks like it. You had me worried for a moment, thought I scared the team’s bird off.”

The faux title is affectionate, something Johnny came up with when you squeaked in surprise once. Plus, with the way you’re always cheery with them all you might as well be a little robin singing in their ears. Even so, your cheeks tinge pink, the dreams flashing back like they do every time he’s in a close proximity. They’re not even all that bad, barely even romantic but it’s the fact you’ve never even seen him in that way that gets you. “Clearly you can't get rid of me that easily.” You huff, almost annoyed at your subconsciousness’ own insistence to cling onto the taskforce. He chuckles again, and stretches his arm to rest on the couch, brushing the back of your head. You blink at the feeling, glancing back up at his masked face that crinkles near his cheeks.

Now that you think about it, he doesn't usually sit near you, nor does he approach you other than you and Soap’s shared conversations. But now here he is, right beside you. He startles you from his thoughts when his hand somehow finds itself appearing around your waist, tucking you right beside him as his other hand turns the tv on. “Huh-“ You squeak in your typical fashion, snapping your head to face him.” What are you doing?”

”It’s a friday, you have nothin better to do.” He grunts, like this was normal, before searching through Netflix for his usual wildlife documentary that you’ve seen him watch quite a few times. It’s hard to ignore how warm his hand is on your side, how loose the grip is—almost as if you’re a delicate vase—and how soft his breathing is. “You’re not mad..? That i’ve been having weird dreams?”

”It’s not a dream if it’s real, is it?” He’s not wrong, this is exactly how your head painted this situation the other night. You blink in response, and then slowly relax, your shoulder bumping against his side as your head falls against his shoulder. Sure, it wasnt no fleeting romance, but it sure did feel good to grab what most deemed impossible— the attention of the base’s feared lieutenant. Unfortunately, Soap would be dead if he spilled the beans of the Lieutenant’s actual reaction to the news of your dreams, but you may be able to find the dent of the weight haphazardly covered by a rug.

——-

His reaction

[slashingdisneypasta]

Erik Destler x Fem!OperaSinger!Reader || Drabble

Plot: The costume directors have you wearing something RIDICULOUS, And Erik is NOT about to let that disrespect slide.

Warnings: Mentions of partial nudity, Erik threatening to kill some people, etc.

When the costume directors mentioned to you the dress that you were expected to wesr for this performance, you were appalled! You told them you wouldn't wear it! You told them no! Not a in a hundred years would you wear such a thing on stage before men.

The 'dress' if it could even truly be called such a thing, was nothing more then a loose shift or nightgown. And it was sheer; so sheer that nothing would be left to the imagination, especially with the stage lights shining. It was white, but every curve of your body was visible- and, oh damn if it were cold in the theatre when you worse it! You would be ogled by every single attendee in the stalls.

And Erik would absolutely despise it, too. For sure you were no lady of virtue by this point in your relationship with the opera ghost, but Erik was terrible insecure. And horribly possessive. If another man so much as smiled at you he was grinding his teeth behind the walls- and you would very much like to avoid another murder.

... but the managers said if you didn't wear the dress, then your contract may be void. So you had to.

So here you are, in the middle of the stage awaiting the raising of the curtain. ... cold, stared at from the wings, and prepared to be utterly humiliated.

You imagined Erik in his box, waiting patiently for your entrance, and cringed. Something bad would happen to the theatre, tonight. You just hoped, for the managers sake, that the injuries would be minimal. They really were harried gentlemen these days- but you suppose that's what they get for not believing in the phantom.

When one of the stage hands in the wings gave a signal, and the heavy velvet curtain shifted. It began to rise, the fabric bunched on the floor began to lesson, and then you could see just a slice of the audience, and then-

A flash of black fabric shot out from the wings, pushing someone over in its haste (was that a familiar voice hissing lower the curtain!.. ?), and suddenly that black fabric flew around you. A cloak rested over your shoulders and leather gloves pulled it closed around you. You looked up, surprised and bewildered, to see Erik there with cloth tucked around his face all except one eye- betraying a fury you've seen before.

Immediately you're both grateful, and afraid. "What are you- "

Taking over from him, you clip the cloak around your body with your own hands. And before you can even finish asking, he starts dragging you out into a the wings- past terrified seamstresses and pale stagehands. No one dared to stop him; out of horror. The phantom was no mere ghost story right now.

Erik took you all the way out of the main theatre, through a wall that gave way under his hand and was really a secret door, and down a spiral staircase into his domain. Then he let you go, left you stood quietly in the damp darkness.

He didnt go far, though. Just far enough that his madness didn't hurt you. "How dare they." Erik seethed. He's breathing heavily, barely containing himself. He knows you would try to stop him if he attempted to go back up there and wreak some kind of hell. "You are not some whore. Oh, how low the opera has fallen if THIS is how they're drawing their audiences, now!" Finally he pauses, thinking. "... I think I will have to send a letter to dear Firmin and Andre- "

Your voice betrays you, coming out a tone or two weaker then you intended. High, and nervous. "Oh Erik, it wasnt wholly them! It was the costume director!"

He's still lost in his own mind. His own horrid thoughts. "Good. Simpler. I'll just kill them."

"Erik!!" This time your voice comes out right. Stern, meant to press a weaker man into a heading your will. Erik merely gives you a Look.

"Fine fine fine... a message will do."

Slowly, you calm down. Your heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm. Carefully you approach your tragic monster, still clinging to his cloak around you. "... what kind of message will you send?"

He looks at you for a moment, considering, but decides not to tell you. "Neveryoumind that." Finally, Erik's voice softens. He's calmed down, for the most part. "Now. Shall we find you some proper clothes? Maybe a bed?"

"No, I- I-... I think I just want to go home, tonight." You lower your eyes to the floor. Now that Erik has calmed down, you can feel your own rolling emotions. You just want to go to sleep. You were so afraid, earlier. So afraid of the humiliation, and reeling with insult. You don't know what you'll do the next time you see the costume directors yourself. Give him a peace of your mind, for sure.

"... Your bed is my bed, dear Y/N. Follow me."

Erik's voice leaves no room for argument, and when he offers his hand to you, you take it. Through his glove, you can feel the familiar human warmth kept hidden underneath, and sigh.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

Gratitude and affection for this 'monster' flow through you, warming your heart too. You lean and give him a kiss through the fabric stretched across his deformed face. "Thank you."

"... always, Y/N."

[soulidarity]

beach date

rafayel x mc

mc is self conscious about wearing a bathing suit, which leads to her not wanting to go swimming with rafayel

fluff and comfort

it was odd, the amount of excuses that he had heard from her mouth about the same subject

"its a bit too cold"

"i did my hair today"

"i dont have more clothing"

the first few times, he thought nothing of it. sure it was strange that he knew it wasnt a hair wash day but maybe she had strayed off from her routine.

after the 15th time, something was up.

"are you afraid of me?"

she looked at him, bewildered.

"what does that have to do with anything?"

"are you afraid that being in the water with me might trigger something? i swear the boat thing was just because of where we were, that wont happen again"

"it has nothing to do with that-"

"then are you afraid of the ocean? cutie you should know better than to doubt my ability to protect you. i am the god of the sea after all, no harm will-"

"rafayel its seriously not about any of that, im not afraid of that"

"then what is it?" he cut her off, his tone a bit more serious than what he intended. "i mean, i dont understand how you dont just want to dive in. not only is the ocean beautiful, but its crazy hot outside-"

"its because i hate wearing bathing suits!"

rafayel looked at her, confused.

that... that was it? seriously? he didnt see the issue at all

"is it cause... of the texture...? or are you worried about the sun?"

"i just... dont like how i look in them. thats it, can we drop it? im really sorry rafayel..."

he paused before smiling at her warmly, "sure. what are you wearing tonight for the exhibition?"

a few weeks passed, the subject never really leaving their minds but neither one commented on it. rafayel would regularly head down to the beach to go swimming, while shed stay back and work on reports.

it was one of those times when rafayel noticed someone entering the beach, he got closer to the shore to see who.

there she was, sunglasses, sunhat and one of his big shirts she had stolen. shyly, she set her stuff down on a blanket on the sand, sitting down next to them as she waved at him.

he quickly ran towards her, a bit clumsily because water and sand arent the best enviorment to run in, with a big smile on his face.

"cutie! you came!"

she handed him a towel, which he refused

"im gonna go back in, so dont worry. are you... coming in?" he asked as if he was dealing with a scared animal that could runaway at any moment.

"ill think about it, let me get used to this little by little, is that okay?" she looked up at him, his smile bigger than ever

"its great" he kissed her forehead "take your time, thank you for trying. it means a lot. im gonna go back in, if you need me just yell"

about half an hour had gone by, the lemurian still in the water.

"fuck it, rafayel! could you look the other way, im gonna go in!"

he quickly nodded, standing up from his swimming position and facing the horizon. what a beautiful sunset.

he heard the water moving closer

"can i turn now?"

"no. dont. can you walk backwards a bit closer? i dont think i can reach the bottom so deep in"

"of course"

as he did so, he felt two arms wrapping around his waist, quickly followed by a chest being pushed against his back, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"hi..."

"hi cutie, wanna go in deeper?"

"no, im not that good of a swimmer"

"does the water cover your chest?

"you know im not that small, its a bit above my waist"

"how about we go a bit deeper, you tell me when it reaches your shoulders. that way the water will cover you, i can turn around and if a big wave comes ill help you out. sound good?"

"i guess?"

the couple walked together towards the sunset in an incredibly uncomfortable matter due to their position, until eventually she told him to stop. after a brief pause, he turned around.

"hello cutie"

"we already said hi"

"i know, just wanted to be polite to the prettiest sight"

"the sunset is way prettier, you should look at that"

"hm nope! youre prettier"

"you arent even seeing it"

"dont need to, those pink skies could never compete with you cutie" she rolled her eyes at his comment

"thank you for being patient with me"

"thank you for trying"

[edlucavalden]

Im too exausted for proper(ish) essays, but im so crazy over this scene. i can't contain myself

TW for: S/A !!! (For the nature of the writing and well—the scene itself)

He's confused at first. he doesn't know what is going on. This slight pause isn't because he's scared or frozen but to assess the situation. After all It was kinda sudden.

All he doesn't like this feeling. he feels uncomfortable and that some sort of boundry has been breached. But he hasn't fully processed it yet.

And right before he fully comprehends and does something about it—

He suddenly becomes compliant?

It's like he forgot what he was gonna do—like He loses the motivation to enforce his boundaries.

he still feels uncomfortable. that doesn't change. But he isnt aware of that. Well, that makes sense... since he never really did fully process what was happening. It's like he lost the will to care about or process it.

This panel. Christ... Thistle finally builds up the power to say stop. It's weak—confused and disoriented. I dont think it's even directed to anything specifically. Its intentions are vague.

But god... and the lion's response? Reassurance. how he can't help it, he needs this to live, he's been waiting for so long—oh, and don't worry, I'll take care of you.

It's just so chilling after this.

Thistle's powerless, weak, and complaicent. It's out of character for thistle. This entire scene is. However It's still thistle. His behavior and actions are his own, and for me that's the terrifying part.

This wasn't... Forced? There's no fighting and thrashing— Its just a complete submission. he reacted yeah but he didn't resist. he didn't fight back even if he had the ability to (we know bc he has, for 1000 years in fact). The lion didn't directly force him either. It didn't violently force him to have its way. But it's still violating. And that's the thing; the assult wasnt violent, but passive.

Hi guys just to reiterate that I did NOT mean to say that sexual cohesion is not an act of force. this part is ment reiterate that it "wasn't forced" in the sterotypical way of resisting, i followed it up by saying that it is still violating despite that and i emhasized that idea in the parts after that,. This part (more so the entire work in general) is ment to emphasize the passive yet transgressive nature of cohesion. i SINCERELY apologize if that was the message that was interpreted from that part. I did not intend it to mean that way.

The demon has slowly but surely torn down thistle's sense of self so much it turned him into a completely different person. Like his identity was shattered and rebuilt to submit.

It starts small, building up the situation, taking away his desire to resist and enforce his boundaries, then it gives a rose tinted explanation of what is happening. Finally, it comforts and praises him. This is what gives thistle the illusion of choice, a passive way of getting him vulnerable.

You can see how it affected him vividly through this part. it's like he forgets what he was fighting for. He forgets his boundaries, his identity, the things he cares about, everything. It's being ripped away from him.

Thistle never stood a chance.

It wasn't his fault he submitted. It was the demon's for putting him in that state. His complaicency is due to the fact that he had no power for any other way.

it never mattered that thistle never fought back. Even if he did fight back or didn't, even if he succeeded or not—what then? it would never change the demon's nature. One who seeks consumption will always consume. In other words; it will always find a way.

I honestly dont think it was the demon's intention to harm thistle. It's selfish but not moralisticly evil (nothing ever is). It seeks fulfillment and not suffering. But its blind pursuit for satisfaction caused suffering, That's what makes it malicious. It doesn't matter if he intented or was aware of it or not. the demon benefited from something that could harm him and did it despite that. And that will never change.

[yumeurl]

speaking of cho it's a bit disheartening that the overall interpretation of her and harry's date is that she just wanted to talk about cedric and had a crazy outburst about it

their date started out really good in fact, while you can tell there's underlying issues of harry just not having time for something normal like dates when there's the whole main plot going on(and also he was very nervous for his first date), harry still finds her easy to talk to. only thwarted because pansy mocked them along her way

The subject of the Quidditch World Cup carried them all the way down the drive and out through the gates. Harry could hardly believe how easy it was to talk to her, no more difficult, in fact, than talking to Ron and Hermione, and he was just starting to feel confident and cheerful when a large gang of Slytherin girls passed them, including Pansy Parkinson.

this throws them both off entirely, having this long, awkward silence that extended in hogsmeade

Harry could think of nothing else to say about Quidditch, and Cho, slightly flushed, was watching her feet.

they wander for a bit still with the awkward silence, and cho even tries to break the ice by opening a topic about sirius and death eaters. it's a bit lighter topic for cho, since she's only a bystander, but it's not for harry, so he can only agree to her and not much else

by the time they decided to go to madam puddifoot's, harry has a hard time saying his true opinion to cho

“Cute, isn’t it?” said Cho happily. “Er . . . yeah,” said Harry untruthfully.

there's still the awkward silence, with cho trying to gain back their momentum (she introduces the topic of umbridge which harry happily latches onto), harry is extremely nervous because of roger davis' and his gf's PDA. when the topic eventually dies down again. notice how despite all the awkwardness, cho hasn't mentioned cedric even once in their date. the problem starts after this

“Er . . . listen, d’you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I’m meeting Hermione Granger there.”

this is where cho's tone suddenly change. especially with how harry responded immediately after

“Yeah. Well, she asked me to, so I thought I would. D’you want to come with me? She said it wouldn’t matter if you did.” “Oh . . . well . . . that was nice of her.” But Cho did not sound as though she thought it was nice at all; on the contrary, her tone was cold and all of a sudden she looked rather forbidding.

harry of course doesn't realize this, as right after he was mustering up the courage to hold cho's hand. i'm sure harry didn't intend to sound dismissive of cho, but to cho, it sounds like her presence there was optional. and that harry even needed hermione's permission if cho being there was ok. in the reader's view, cho is clearly jealous

“He asked me out, you know,” she said in a quiet voice. “A couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though.”

“I came in here with Cedric last year,” said Cho.

then cho immaturely attempts to make harry jealous; first with roger davis, then cedric. but opening up the topic of cedric just led to cho shifting to grief again

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages. . . . Did Cedric — did he m-m-mention me at all before he died?”

i don't know why this gets clowned alot, they were dating and cho was grieving. she had NO closure, in her eyes cedric just entered the maze and disappeared. harry may be the wrong person to pour this onto but the progression of this scene wasnt sudden at all, and i'm not going to clown on cho's character for grieving and having no outlet for it

“Well — I have talked about it,” Harry said in a whisper, “to Ron and Hermione, but —”

this all cycles back to cho's jealousy with hermione, she doesn't understand why harry's more willing to share personal feelings with them than the one he's currently dating. harry doesn't understand why cho's acting like this in the first place. they're two people with different experiences and they don't really know each other

“It’s not like that!” said Harry, and he was so relieved at finally understanding what she was annoyed about that he laughed, which he realized a split second too late was a mistake.

by the time he finally realized what's up his reaction was misinterpreted by cho again, and the date ends with cho walking out

i think this whole date scene shows the problem with their relationship. they did reconcile after this for a bit, but it's obvious that harry is just too preoccupied with the main plot to prioritize cho, as well as he's becoming disillusioned from the image he had of cho prior and now sees her as a 'girl who cries alot'

the problem is they don't understand each other. cho incorrectly assumes things about harry and tries to reach out, but harry is not on that level with cho yet and can't possibly talk to her about the order or sirius etc. there's also the problem that harry just has the tendency to bury his feelings and not really talk about it even with ron and hermione

i don't like that cho is being vilified for literally acting like a teenager that's kept in the dark lol... she's the one person who's really close to cedric and she doesn't know anything until the quibbler article released. she's not being unreasonable in the date, the date just showcases the problems in their relationship at this current point of time

anyways to close this off, still my favorite harry outburst

“Women!” he muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?”

truly a wtf harry moment

[ariseur]

hey!!! ive been reading your sephiroth fanfics recently and it has been such an intricate work of art i genuinely feel the emotion and love put into it, your writing is just perfect in terms of how you write his character! i was wondering if i could request a seph x reader maybe during or post advent children and is really angsty with some fluff regarding his return??? it's vague (sorry😭) but i know if you did take up on it youd do fantastic!! 💖🫶🏻

liberabo volucres 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

omg you are literally so sweet!!!! thank you so much for this request, although i don’t think i did it justice 😭 i wasnt quite sure how to go about this considering after advent children, the remnants of seph faded into the lifestream (i think?) so it’s more angsty with lots of mentions of kadaj, but i hope you like it either way!! i’m glad you enjoy my sephiroth fics and don’t hesitate to send more asks!! love this one 💕

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kadaj and remnants of seph, written in a yearning type of way where you still have a hole in your heart left from sephiroth, don’t ask where you came from at the beginning!! just enjoy it 😭, intended lowercase, mentions of kissing kadaj’s forehead, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1327 words, 7173 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“cloud,” your voice only a faint whisper as you called out to the blond, “what did you do?” he lifted his head, his skin glossier with the droplets of rain falling on his face. his eyes widened at the sight of you, chest still rising and lowering rapidly as he recovered from his battle with sephiroth. how foreign that name felt on your tongue, now.

you got up from your hiding spot beyond the debris, knees aching from how long you were crouched as your feet slammed against the flat surface of the floor. you watched as your kadaj’s catlike slits for pupils— pupils that constantly reminded you that he was still apart of sephiroth, despite his role as being only a remnant of your lover— flickered towards you with whatever energy he had left. the corner of kadaj’s lips quirked upwards ever the slightest as you rushed over him, cloud moving out of your way as he stood up.

cloud’s words, albeit firm, lay dormant in your brain, “he was going to kill me—kill us all.” and even with his sharp tone, you didn’t pay him any mind. the only thing you could focus on was kadaj’s eyes trained on yours, scoffing as he rasped out, “such— a drama.. queen.” you softly shushed him, watching as his eyes became emptier by the minute. your throat stung as a choked sob threatened to escape its enclosure behind your uvula. kadaj lifted his hand only for you to grasp it, moist leather clutched in your palm as you placed it back to his chest. he intertwined your fingers, a wince leaving his lips as you held his head up.

it took everything not to look away from him. his hair, his eyes, even the way he smelled, reminded you of sephiroth. sometimes, you wish it had been different. you wish you would’ve been there when it had happened, and even now, your memory’s fuzzy of the events. all you remember was the day sephiroth left you, and you haven’t stop thinking about him since. you wished he had come to you, and apart of you was angry. maybe you were angry that he left you with no word, or maybe angry that instead of opening up to you, he decides to burn a village down in his spiral, or maybe you weren’t angry at all.

you paused, taking another look at kadaj’s furrowed eyebrows and his lidded eyes. you wonder if this is how sephiroth felt upon his notice of who he really was— what he really was. he was only in his twenties when it happened, you couldn’t have imagined how he felt. you remembered; his friends, gone and turned against shinra, and with all the pressure on him about the cover-up, you thought that maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault. you realized now, that you can’t get what you want from this world without taking it yourself. saying please didn’t scratch the itch in the back of your throat the way that anger did, and you assumed sephiroth felt the same.

clasping kadaj’s hand, he let out a weak sigh. you let your hand, although shaky and so weak that you can’t make a fist, card a piece of his hair out his face; your heart ached at your hands in his silver hair, mind racing back to when you’d brush sephiroth’s hair for him. a true honor, you’d always call it.

the way kadaj’s eyes widened and his ears perked up made you pause, like he was listening for something. even with cloud’s tense presence behind you, you refused to let go of the part of sephiroth, your part of sephiroth. the only part you had of him left. you couldn’t be angry at cloud. he was only doing what he thought was best— and in the end, maybe it was for the best, you thought. you couldn’t even be angry at yourself, your mind only clouded with grief as your sniffles and teary sighs filled the air.

the sound of kadaj’s arm moving, leather rubbing against itself, interrupted your soft cries as he lifted his hand up to the sky. a soft whisper of, “mother—?” left his lips.

your hand snaked up and you rubbed your thumb against his cheek, watching as he turned his head towards you slowly. a teary sound left your lips, you weren’t even sure if it was a sob or a laugh. but you leaned down, pressing one last kiss to his forehead as his eyelashes fluttered, just the way sephiroth’s did when you’d lay with him in the morning where golden rays would seep through the curtains and shine onto your beloved.

all good things must come to an end, you realized, as you watched the only physical evidence that sephiroth had coexisted with you fade into the lifestream, his arm fading into reduced crystallized mako. you closed your eyes, shoulders heaving as you tried stifling your thick cries; after all, cloud was still behind you. you held onto kadaj’s hand until it was no more, his body being lifted up and vanishing although you couldn’t bear to watch it. and you didn’t open your eyes, not for a long while, in hopes that maybe you’d be back in the comfort of your home as you heard heavy footsteps trail behind you to the kitchen, sephiroth’s content face across from yours at the dinner table. and you didn’t open your eyes until you heard a low hum, beyond the loud sounds of the rain hitting the concrete, beyond your own shaking breaths. this couldn’t have been cloud, you thought. your head lifted up and squinted so as to not get any rain in your eyes.

and there he was— or more so a faded version of him. even in the rain, you couldn’t help but gawk at him in awe, his hair flowing so gracefully even in the humidity of the rain. even if you were dreaming, you’d wish you would never wake in hopes of spending one last minute with the one you held dearest to your heart. one last moment with sephiroth and you’d feel like you’d finally be complete.

his eyes, still sleek and catlike how you always remembered, almost look amused. he held a smile at you, his head cocking at the sight. you didn’t want to think of the possibility that this was just a hallucination of your grief. this was more than that. sephiroth was more than that.

he gave you a nod, a nod of which you didn’t understand. ever so esoteric, you thought. the way he always was after nibelheim. you sat back on your haunches, your knees still against the wet, cold floor— taking one last look at sephiroth before he turned around. his head tipped back, fingers twitching as he let himself face the sky, until he finally let himself go and faded away as well.

your lip trembled, a teary laugh releasing itself from your throat until cloud put a soft, awkward hand on your shoulder. head turning to face him, your eyes met his. you realized now that cloud did what was best, and you couldn’t possibly blame him for that.

he cleared his throat, almost cautiously as if you’d snap at him for interrupting the silence, “we have to go. i’m sure tifa’s waiting for us.”

you sniffled, wiping your eyes from both the rain and the tears that littered your cheeks. looking back down at your lap, once where kadaj laid, you were met with emptiness. closing your eyes once more, you inhaled and let the air fill your lungs. the first deep breath of air that you’ve taken in what feels like years, one that felt fresher— almost bittersweet. and when you turned back to cloud, you gave him a firm nod.

the urge to be changed is not metamorphosis, you realized. you can’t be changed without making a change of your own.

[arminsbaby]

TIDES OF DESIRE! ⏦ﾟ♡︎

SYNOPSIS! — after years of war and sacrifice, armin is finally free to focus on rebuilding the world, but he is still really stressed due to the heaviness of the responsibility in his hands. one night you spotted him along side the beach and decided to join him to talk and get your mind off things. ouhh then spicyy heheehe

CONTAINS — ( 1k+ words of... ) virgin!armin x reader, fluff, nsfw, after the last attack au, public sex, public display of affection (pda), creampie, slight choking, softdom!reader, use of pet names (e.g. baby), explicit language, lowercase intended!

© arminsbaby

—————————————————————————————

the war was over. the fighting, the death, the endless fear —it was all behind you. but peace didn’t erase the scars it left behind.

armin had become one of the most respected leaders in the world, his days filled with meetings, maps, and decisions that would shape the future. but even the greatest minds needed rest. and tonight, he had wandered to the beach, seeking peace in the sound of the waves.

you found him there, sitting in the cool sand, his blond hair ruffled by the wind. his boots were off, his feet sinking into the damp shore, and his blue eyes stared out at the ocean, lost in thought.

“you’re thinking too much again,” you teased as you sat beside him.

armin let out a soft chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “i can’t help it. there’s so much to do… so much to fix.”

you sighed, nudging his shoulder. “you don’t have to carry everything alone, you know.”

silence stretched between you, filled only by the steady crash of the waves. then, armin turned to you, his gaze softer now, more vulnerable.

“i know,” he murmured. “but it’s hard to stop.”

the way he looked at you made your heart race. there had always been something between you—something unspoken, lingering in the way he held your gaze just a little too long, the way his fingers would brush yours, hesitant but deliberate.

tonight, under the moonlight, that something felt stronger than ever.

you reached out, resting your hand over his. “then let me take some of the weight. just for tonight.”

armin’s breath hitched, his adam’s apple bobbing. “are you sure?” he swallowed before looking away and continuing. “ive never.. done anything before.” he whispered gently, blushing softly while looking down, too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

you didn’t answer with words. instead, you leaned in, closing the space between you. his breath mingled with yours, warm and uneven. then, finally, you closed the gap between you both.

it started slow — almost shy, as if he was afraid to break the moment, since you bith knew he wasnt as skilled. but when you responded, tilting your head and pressing closer, something inside him shifted. his hands found your waist, pulling you against him, and the kiss deepened.

armin wasn’t just gentle — he was careful, thoughtful, like he was memorizing every part of you. his fingers traced the curve of your back, his lips soft but eager as he explored this new, side of you.

the sand was cool beneath you, but his body was warm, his weight grounding as he guided you down with quiet reverence. the night air wrapped around you both, salty and fresh, but all you could focus on was him — his touch, his breath, the quiet, desperate sounds he made as he lost himself in you.

he whispered your name like a prayer, like you were the only thing anchoring him to the present. and in that moment, with the ocean singing its endless song beside you, nothing else mattered.

she pulled away softly to catch her breath, looking around to check if anyone was nearby.

“n-no one passes through here.. dont worry..” he says softly, still panting.

she looked at him gently, before straddling him. he gasps, but is quickly muted by another gentle kiss. armin cant believe this is happening — i mean, to him you were the most beautiful girl in the world, why would you choose him?

you, on the other hand, had fallen in love with armin way before the last attack. he had never left your mind since you first joined the 104 cadets, and your love for him had been going ever since. and you wanted to show him just that.

soon, however, he shifts on top of you, pushing you to lay on your back underneath him. he starts to let his desire leak into his kiss, his tongue mixing with yours. panting heavily, he subconsciously shifts his leg in between yours. he starts to move it up and down, grinding it on your clit, and making you gasp in surprise. he plants kisses up your neck, continuing to pleasure you.

“w-where did you learn this m-min..~?” she says softly while trying to hide her whimpers and moans.

“m-might’ve walked in on jean once or twice..” he said while continuing to kiss your neck gently.

“a-are you sure no one.. c-comes here..?” she whimpered from under him. this makes him pull away, looking at you from above.

“are you uncomfortable, y/n?” he murmured, hoping otherwise.

“n-nono its just.. its so open.. i wanted this moment to be private..” she whispered, turning her head away to avoid eye contact.

“if it makes you feel any better.. i have another spot.. i promise you its secluded.. wanna try there..?” he whispered shyly, softly turning her head to face him once again. she nodded, smiling at his quick understanding.

—————————————————————————————

“f-fuck..!” she groaned as she bottomed down on his dick. armin couldn’t help but hiss through gritted teeth as you took him into your needy cunt. your soaked pussy squeezing his overly sensitive cock back in with every slow motion of your hips.

he whimpered under her, holding her close. “minn..? you okay baby..?” she whispered as she looked down, noticing he had barried his face in her now exposed chest.

“y-yeah..” he whispered as he looked up at her, his fucked out expression making her clench around him.

she used the rocky wall behind her to balance and started moving up and down on his cock, making him grip her waist tighter, whimpering like a bitch underneath her.

before you, the blonde hadn’t had as much as his first kiss, and had little to no experience; but thankfully, you didn’t mind as much as he imagined you would.

“f-faster.. please..!” he whispered against your tits. you quickly obliged, getting on your knees and quicked the rhythm of your hips. he pulled his head away from between your bouncing tits and leaned his head against the wall behind him, rolling his eyes back and bitting his lip to prevent any whiny noises from escaping. she kept going, her tits bouncing with her as she sped up the pase once more.

watching this happen right infront of his eyes awoke something inside him, making him suddenly lower his hands from her waist to her ass, starting to move his hips upwards, matching her pace. she rolled her eyes back as he started to pound the gummy spot inside of her, making her cry out in pleasure. she looked down as she grabbed him by the neck, making him whimper before being quickly silenced by a fierce and sloppy kiss.

she squeezed his neck, pulling away and resting her forehead on his, whimpering and moaning like a bitch in heat as he pounded her poor pussy. “r-right there.. f-fuck..~! g’nna cum~!” she rolled her eyes back in pure ecstasy.

“m-me too baby..!” he managed to say before he flooded her with his cum, shooting his thick white ropes deep inside you. you came with him, your walls tighting around him as you drained his balls dry.

you both sat there, intertwined and panting, listening to the relaxing sounds of waves while cooling down from your high.

—————————————————————————————

this is my first ever short story so please be nice!

[ganondoodle]

random thought about the memory system

a big difference between why botws memories worked so well but totks didnt is mainly bc in botw, there wasnt that much plot, you kinda knew what was up by the time you left the tutorial, all memories serve you just as well as link, sending you around a hyrule you dont know, the few scenes of main characters do a good job of giving you an idea of who they are, but the majority is focused on zelda and link, why she acted to cold to him at first and later became friends, the characterization being not jsut in memories but also in how people remember them, their diary etc, when you meet their ghosts theres a familiarity to how they talk to you, they know and care about you, its like giving you late friend one last visit; getting memories out of order really doesnt hurt that characterization and overall it really just serves to flesh out the past and what made this world the way you see it now but mainly it gives you characters

in totk, its ... the main plot driving thing, you are here for the story now more than the world bc you know the world already, besides the sages stuff (that isnt much either besides some legends that apprently were always a thing but never popped up until now), its basically the entire plot and it all hinges on it, its trying to be both plot and character introduction AND characterization, which it simply cant do; we already know zelda and what shes like, but its like the game itself doesnt know what to do with her now, she doesnt do anything, she stands around listenign to strangers talk, whenever she says anything shes dismissed or it simply doesnt matter, the most she does is go around to faceless and nameless sages of old we dont know nor care about in a damn near copy paste scene begging them to help link of the far future somehow even tho they really have no reason to and then she swallows a stone bc she has literally no other choice; fleshing out the past doesnt work either bc this past is so far removed from anything of the world and people you know that theres simply no meaningful connection to make you really care, there are no characters alive that knew the people of old ...except mineru and rauru are still there, but then dont tell you shit, theres so much you dont know about them, their world or history and they dont tell you anything bc *gestures vaguely* ?? even ganondorf only says some standard villain stuff that tells us pretty much nothing about him nor rauru, no one in your time asking you who the hell that ghost powered robot is? no she sits in her robot somewhere deep underground (how does she even get out of there at the end, she needed you to drive her around to her own temple after all) given how straight up obsessed hyrules entire population is with sonau stuff they sure dont do anything with a literal person from that time and then at the end she jsut goes poof, welp, guess we will never, sure, fine keep your secrects; getting the memories out of order destroys literally any kind of story that was there, like it wasnt predicatble from like memory 3 to where it would go (predicable can be good but in this case its boring as hell) anyway

.. theres more i could talk about but this is already longer than intended and i want to do other things but this with my evening, you probably heard most of my problems with this game in my rants by now anyway

[jameson-hawthorne]

IMAGINE THIS SENARIO

you are walking down the streets of texas, Avery is on a girls night out and you didnt wanna stay in the massive house so you decided to go visit the less wealthy section of texas.

until you saw someone you would have never wanted to see:

ROHAN

you freeze. your heart starts beating faster and you dont know why. is it because of hatred? or maybe...

no. you refuse to believe that. why would you even think about that anyway? you hate the guy. and you have a girlfriend! you would never wonder what it would be like to kiss a guy! why would you?

"hey, Hawthorne" you hear the brittish man shout from 10 feet away from you. Somehow, you need to stop yourself from smiling when you hear his soft yet sharp voice.

You just smirk and nod your head as he walks up to you. the way he walks is even attractive irritating to you. he takes his navy blue blazer off and sets it down on the bench thats sitting in between you two. he then takes a seat and looks out on the warmly lit town square.

you sit down next to him and you look out onto the monument that stands in the middle. a cowboy on a horse. almost like nash, you thought. but that wont distract you from the one question you're dying to know.

"why're you here?" you ask, your voice softer than you intend it to be

"i dunno, just got bored of that old rainy england, y'know, bruv? decided to visit my good friend Jameson Hawthorne. How are the ribs doing, by the way?"

you smile and glance at the soon to be proprietor

"they've healed all right. Its nice to have some better competition now and then to show me how much more i have to learn before i actually become a good boxer"

Rohan chuckles, that smile on his face makes you feel all warm inside, and you dont even know why, but you want to continue this conversation.

"you're really good, you know. in everything you do. im almost jealous"

"nah bruv. we're on the same level. you just put your guard down that one time. you're so much better than me in other things"

this time it was your turn to chuckle. and the way he looked at you, it wasnt hatred or jealousy, it was admiration

"yeah? like what?" you ask teasingly

"you're funny, kind, loving to your girlfriend, thoughtful, flirty"

you feel your cheeks go slightly red as he comes closer to you. he starts murmuring quietly as your heart rate quickens

"you're good looking, and that smirk on your face-"

you dont let him finish before you smash your lips against his. theres nothing gentle about this kiss. its desperate. its just what you need after a full day without avery.

you grip his shirt and pull him closer, he pins you to the bench as his hands find your hair and tilt your head back. he kisses your jaw carefully, making sure not to leave any hickeys. you try not to let out a sound but tiny gasps and whimpers can be heard from your lips.

suddenly, Rohan freezes. you're about to ask him why, but he covers your mouth and collects himself. he takes his blazer and fixes his shirt and hair before putting the blazer on, but you're still confused. you fix your hair as you hear people approaching. goddamn it, Rohan even has better hearing than you.

you're about to tell him that when you turn around, and hes gone.

oh well, you'll have to tell him next time.

THAT TOOK ME 20 MINUTES

BUT ITS SO REALISTIC

(mind u i dont write fanfics so please give me an A for effort?)

YOU NEED TO ACCEPT IT JAMESON

@rohan-his-lordships-successor DOES TOO

im not reading all of that fuck off

[unganseylike]

for others who disliked adams greywaren ending, what do you think about the part of his ending with transferring schools?

Personally, i can see arguments for transferring (in terms of adam not having his fantasized perfectly linear path to success), but i want to see him stay and deal with his lies and mistakes. ik that sounds mean, but i intend it in the kindest way possible. like it could be helpful for him to distance himself from the person he invented at harvard and try again, but i want him to contend with that and reconcile his invention with the person he really is; i don’t think they are mutually exclusive!

maybe this comes down to your opinion of his crying club- whether you think theyre really his friends or not- but to me, i don’t think this effort to build community was wrong, even though it was unhealthy that he had to lie about his background to do it. i think adam needs to think about why he had this drive to create a friend group and why he felt like he couldn’t be the same person he was in henrietta. i want him to feel like he can be honest with the crying club, or at least that he can his genuine self with people outside the gangsey. he doesnt have to suddenly dump the whole truth on them, but i wish he could slowly let himself trust them, as they have trusted him with their troubles.

Obviously it was important for him and his character arc to leave henrietta and for him to want to leave behind the person he was there (and the fact that everyone there knew he was poor and a victim of abuse), but i’d like to see adam stay in place somewhere and work through who he is there. I feel like if he leaves and starts somewhere new, he’ll still have that instinct to leave behind this old version of adam and reinvent himself.

what do you all think? i know we all hate the adam becomes a fed thing, but wasnt sure what opinion is on this part

[peppizza-au]

Ok, if you don't feel like drawing your story, you can always put it in text form. we won't be mad. i just want to know what happens next

hey, i understand if you didnt mean anything malicious, but please dont do this, guys. even if i change to an easier format, im still not obligated to give you guys content, and ive currently been exhausted with work and other personal projects. i may get it again at some point, but i currently have no motivation to update this blog specifically, and i heavily struggle with motivation already. i honestly thought itd be a miracle if i even got halfway through this story before losing my drive, but i wanted to try anyway.

forcing myself to create for an optional project i started for fun purely to meet demand isnt healthy for me, will result in a dramatic drop in quality for updates, and possibly ruin the story i want to tell. an unfinished story is better than a rushed and half-hearted one.

it really warms my heart how many people love this blog, and im not exaggerating when i say i read and appreciate every single ask (that isnt blatantly mean-spirited). but im a human, not a machine. if peppizza doesnt continue, its for a good reason. if peppizza does continue, it will continue with time. please think before sending asks like this, even though im pretty sure it wasnt intended to be impatient or inconsiderate, it absolutely comes off that way.

thats all for now, thank you for reading.