#knife shot game

[dat-lil-shark]

AU where the entire transformer one plot, as well as later, the entire war, is just a big multisession DnD game by Orion, D-16, Bee, and Elita 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I NEEEED’nnnblwksnnwlwnsnlk

[chronicroderick]

Old Games

Hannibal has been manipulative because he's bored and provokes Will into taking matters into his own hands.

Shameless Smut, Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, Consensual Violence, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, Scarification, Canon Typical Toxicity, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Wound Fingering, Post-Fall

Old Games on Ao3

-----

Will was beating the shit out of him, and God, was Hannibal rock hard. This was no fantasy, though there had been many times when it was. This was real, flesh on flesh, knuckles digging into his cheek bones, causing his teeth to clack with each blow. How strong Will was. How resilient those hands were. That was the only thing going through his mind as he tasted his own blood in his mouth.

Hannibal had been more shrewd than usual lately. Picking at Will, second guessing him, even when it was not necessary. Was he sure that he could pick the freshest vegetables from the grocery store? Did he turn the water off completely after washing his face before bed? Was every one of his little mongrel dogs accounted for or did he leave one outside? Will had never forgotten one of his pets, but there was ‘a first time for everything’. Besides his contrariness, the two men had lived the closest thing to domestic bliss that either one of them had ever experienced, even before the fall.

Here they were, off the coast of some Greek island – Will wanted to settle somewhere that was new to the both of them – in a home built from the ground up. It was adobe, white to match the local buildings, set a great distance from any other living soul on a modest cut of land. They had a fenced in garden, expansive, and they had dogs. They would occasionally take day trips to the large islands and scout for new sources of meat. Will went fishing almost every morning and Hannibal would join him, sitting on the shore, reading a book, every now and then glancing up from his page to gaze at his lover who floated far away on his canoe. They should be happy. He didn’t feel happy. He felt bored.

So here he was, flat on his back, Will sitting on his stomach, while those strong fisherman’s hands smashed his face to a bloody pulp. The flames of pain caressed him, cut through him, searing in the cut on his eyebrow now, down into his skull and his brain. A tightness twisting low in his gut. What had he said? Oh, yes.

“Where else would I go?” Will had piped up while Hannibal was chopping carrots.

“What was that, my love?”

“Don’t ‘my love’, me, Hannibal.”

He was only Hannibal when he had done something wrong.

“You think I’m afraid you wish to be somewhere else. You betrayed the FBI for me, Will. We have killed together. We ran away together. As far as I am concerned we are an inseparable pair and I do not understand why you are so paranoid about these things.”

Will stood from where he leaned against the island in the middle of the room and walked up next to him, one hip against the counter and arms crossed over his chest. Hannibal stilled his hands and looked at Will with a warm smile that he knew would infuriate him.

Will frowned, “If you keep playing the fool I’m going to lose my temper.”

A thrill ran down Hannibal’s spine at the threat. At a degree in which he had not felt in a very long time.

“What part do you wish me to play then?” He tilted his head, smile still on his face, fingers curling ever so slightly tighter around the chef’s knife.

Will narrowed his eyes, purposefully keeping them off of the weapon, those ocean blue rings raging darkly behind his glasses. He was so beautiful when he was angry. So stimulating.

“You’ve been toying lately. Undermining me. Eroding.”

This was dangerous territory. Before Hannibal had started picking at Will’s scabs, they had had many heartfelt conversations, one of which included the brunette expressing his fear that his thoughts and actions were not his own, even after all this time. He had soothed him then. He did not feel like soothing him now.

“You speak of me like some spurned housewife.”

“You don’t deny it.” There was an edge to Will’s voice.

“What reason would I have to do such a thing? We are long past the game of cat and mouse,” He turned away, chopping the rest of the carrot, with a dismissive tone, “really, you’re quite the by product of your post traumatic stress, you should quit—”

“Don’t.” Will interpreted, and Hannibal could almost hear his knuckles creak as he formed a fist.

He smiled to himself, knowing full well how it would be interpreted, “Being so paranoid, my love.”

To say the blow came out of nowhere would be a lie, but he had underestimated the hatred behind it, fueling its power, as it caught him across the side of the face. It gave him a headache immediately, Hannibal instinctually switching his grip on the knife, blade pointed down, but Will knew him well. He could feel the calluses against his forearm as his wrist was smashed into the stone countertop with enough force to send shooting nerve pain up his arm, the knife falling from his hand.

Hannibal growled, half anger at being surprised and half pleasure, his other hand coming up to grab Will by the throat, fingers digging into the sides of his neck and pushing the man backwards until his back slammed against the refrigerator. Will’s left hand still held Hannibal’s arm, but his right arm came up, elbow crashing down on Hannibal’s arm, breaking his grip on the other man’s throat. He was feral, unpredictable and blind to the admiration in Hannibal’s gaze as he threw all of his weight into his shoulder and lunged like a football player, tackling Hannibal to the ground.

His head hit the wood floor with a hard knock, dazing him slightly, but his lover did not let the moment go to waste. He felt the weight of Will on his stomach, knees pinning down his out flung arms as they painfully crushed his elbows. His nose crunched with the second punch that was thrown his way, the third surely would have broken it as well, were it not already broken. Will was saying something, something hard to make out over the sound of the blood rushing in Hannibal’s ears and the ringing of his head injury.

“... paranoid. After all those years of manipulating me. Here I am. Here I am.”

Planting his feet, he attempted to buck Will off him, giving himself a chance to roll over, but the moment his weight shifted, he got a swift blow to the eye socket. It was mean enough to cut his eyebrow open, blood pooling at the corner of his eye like a great well of tears, and sloppy enough that it could have caused serious optic damage. The severity of the situation dawned on him. His cock twitched.

“Will –”

There was no reply, only another blow to the face. They rained down on him now, one after the other. He did not fight, did not even struggle. He took in a ragged breath, smothered with arousal, determined to take in every detail of this moment with all five senses. All of Will’s pain and rage washed over him. He could feel the way his skin tore apart, ragged, under the force of Will’s hands. It was delicious to know that he was the cause of such strong emotions. He could hear Will’s heavy breathing, hitching slightly when he exerted himself. It was him, Hannibal, that had so much influence in Will’s life. No one else. He smiled, his lip split in two places, and it felt like being cut with a razor blade as the skin stretched over his teeth. His brown eyes twinkled up at Will, taking in the sight of his bloody knuckles, unsure if it was just his blood. Hoping it was both of theirs. The idea blew his pupils wide. Will’s features darkened and he grabbed Hannibal by the collar of his shirt, before bashing his head into the floor over and over.

“I gave up everything for you! You don’t get to play games anymore.”

He was disappointed that Will had not positioned himself on his lap, for his cock stood at full attention, the inside of his boxers damp with a spot of precum. How ruthless his lover was. Hannibal wished to grind himself against him, while those well trained hands gripped him by the hair, guiding his lucid head to look up. There was a constant throbbing in the back of his skull, his hair plastered to his head with a thick, wet warmth. The kitchen stank of blood, or maybe it was just everything that was pouring out of his nose. When he saw Will’s hard features searching his face, he was filled with a sense of certainty that this was what their victims saw before death overtook them, and need cut through him. Will’s eyes narrowed, which was no surprise, he could read Hannibal like no other.

“You’re hard right now.” He stated disapprovingly.

“I am.” Hannibal replied, blood staining his teeth pink as he smiled.

“You’re not mad at me,” Will blinked once.

“I am not.”

When Will only silently leaned back, removing the weight of his knees from Hannibal’s elbows, he was afraid their altercation would yield no sexual satisfaction.

“Mylimasis,” He whispered, flecks of his blood spraying across Will’s face as he spoke, “do you not find the spark of our old games as exciting as I do?”

Will scoffed, but the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, “You goaded me because you miss getting off to our rivalry?”

“I miss when you were not a domestic animal, Will Graham.”

He could not hide the truth of his words, dismay hitting him like a freight train as he saw the way they made Will’s face twist. As he opened his mouth to explain himself, a hand closed over it, smelling strongly of sweat and blood.

“Not a word.” Will said monotonically.

When he was sure Hannibal would not speak, he removed it, and scooted his hips backwards until he sat right on top of Hannibal’s clothed dick. This made him sigh, the pressure bringing relief, but in return Will slapped him hard enough to turn his cheek red. He gave Will a surprised look and the other man only frowned.

“No sounds either.”

They could both feel the way Hannibal’s cock twitched against Will’s ass. He nodded, just barely, maintaining searing eye contact with Will who was cold as ice. Will began moving his hips back and forth, grinding down on Hannibal who bucked his hips up against him eagerly. He needed to feel more, so much more. His nose ached, the pain pulsing out into the rest of his face as his heartbeat quickened. Will’s hard on was evident, the outline of it visible against his pants, Hannibal eyed it hungrily. His tongue dashed out, wetting his lips, playing over the cuts on them, as he watched Will’s body move above his. He looked glorious, all dark curls and severe jawline, his skin coral and cream as he palmed himself over his clothes. His blue eyes caught sight of the ministrations of Hannibal’s tongue and he leaned down, their dicks rubbing together as he licked one of the cut’s on Hannibal’s lips. The sensation made Hannibal’s hole clench, his eyes fluttered shut as Will lapped up the blood from the second cut. He hissed when he felt Will’s teeth sink into his lip, fresh blood flooding his mouth from the open wound, and because he made a noise Will bit harder, creating puncture wounds and ripping it open more. Will ground his cock against Hannibal, relentlessly dry humping as he kissed him. All Hannibal could taste was his own blood, it was electric, swirling around his mouth on the vessel of Will’s tongue. Will’s lips tasted metallic, soft yet unyielding, Hannibal licked at the back of his teeth, rubbing his tongue over the other man’s with a clear desperation. Will pulled back, got off of his lap, then undid his belt.

Hannibal followed suit, shoving his pants down without a word, his cock springing free. Will didn’t look at him, he only tugged his own pants and underwear off over his shoes, and flung them to the side. Hannibal felt like his excitement was visible to the naked eye, the way the scent of his blood flooded his senses, his skull pounding in time with the rushing in his veins, the thick swallow he had to take every couple seconds, it all stoked his desire, the object of which now crouched over him, hovering just above his aching cock. He looked down at himself, saw how stiff his dick was, flushed pink, thick and sure to spread Will open like many times before. He almost whined like a dog when his lover gently lowered himself, his hole squeezing his tip over and over, precum slicking the entrance. Then the sensation was gone, Will was standing over him now, looking down with that cutting gaze.

“Will?” Hannibal protested the lack of contact.

Shaking his head, Will’s hand wandered the counter, in search of something out of Hannibal’s line of sight.

“You want the delight of carnage. I'll oblige.”

The blade of a knife glinted in the sunlight that came through the window as Will inspected it, surely for Hannibal’s benefit. It was lean, one they often used to filet seafood. His cock jerked and he wiggled his loosened front tooth with his tongue.

“It seems you almost knocked my tooth out, my love.” He tried to hide the elation in his voice as he once again spoke out of turn.

Will fell to his knees, straddling Hannibal once again, their bare dicks rubbing together as he worked the tip of the knife into the small crevice of tender flesh between his collarbone and his shoulder. Hannibal closed his eyes, clenching his teeth in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He tried not to think about the hole that was cut in his shirt. Will twisted the knife as if he was lazily trying to start a fire, tearing more fabric and skin. It made his head spin. When he did not respond, Will pushed slightly harder, until a half inch of stainless steel was inside him. He could feel the warmth of his blood welling up around the tip. Felt the warmth of it pooling into his clothes.

“You could cause serious nerve damage if you're unfamiliar with what you're attempting.” Hannibal chimed clinically.

“Enjoying being a brat, are we?” Will purred, gently pulling the blade towards him, cutting Hannibal at such a slow pace it was ripping more than slicing.

The blue eyed man hummed happily as Hannibal bucked his hips, their cocks sliding over one another, his precum wetting his own happy trail. Will moved on, tracing the knife lightly over Hannibal’s chest, poking and prodding every now and then until he settled just below his belly button. Hannibal watched the entire time, never taking his eyes off those brilliant hands as Will gripped the hem of his shirt and cut it in one long go right up the middle, as if he was being gutted. The fabric fell open, revealing his chest and stomach that already had a few red marks, and Will pushed it out of the way, ghosting his fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair. He rubbed his hips teasingly, cock brushing back and forth against Hannibal’s, resting all his weight on the hand in the center of the older man’s chest. Holding him down. Hannibal could feel his heartbeat thumping against Will’s palm. With the knife in the crook of the L of his thumb and forefinger, directly over Hannibal’s heart, Will applied pressure, the sharp bite of which bloomed outwards.

“Put it in.” It wasn't a demand or a question, it was like Will was observing the weather or their horoscopes.

He was more than happy to obey, grabbing hold of himself, resisting the urge to pump his cock, and lined it up with Will’s hole. Not a moment after his tip brushed the man’s ass did his lover sit himself onto it, slowly taking his cock, never taking his eyes off Hannibal’s face nor the knife off his chest. Instead, the more length he took, the deeper he drove the blade into Hannibal’s sternum. It was overwhelming.

“Penetrating me as I penetrate you?” He quipped. This was all part of it. Will knew he could never resist a chance to prove he would be willing to take things further than Will would.

In response Will cut into him. It wasn't hesitant or jerky, it was almost surgical. Deep enough for blood to spill immediately, but shallow enough that Hannibal was not afraid for his life. It hurt, it made him tense involuntarily as the knife made its way down his chest, leaving a burning crimson trail behind. All while his cock was slowly buried to the hilt inside the other man. He groaned, not trying to be a smartass, as Will began moving up and down, but was punished for his transgression anyways when the knife sunk deeper. The scarring would be unavoidable at this point. Hannibal ground his teeth together to keep from speaking, grabbed Will by the hips and helped him ride faster. His dick was being squeezed so tight, pumping in and out of Will’s hole as he watched the brunette’s cock bounce with every thrust. He pounded up into Will, hips snapping against the bottom of his ass. His passion made the work of the knife unsteady, dipping deeper and shallower with no design at all, the line Will was creating winding ever so slightly like a river down to just above his belly button. Hannibal could feel drops of blood cascading down his belly towards his ribs. Will moaned above him, clenching down on his dick, then ran two shaky fingers up the wound he had just inflicted, never slowing down, Hannibal violent in his thrusts that made every curl on Will’s head bob.

Will brought the two fingers up to his pink lips, dark pupils trained on Hannibal’s face as Will sucked on his middle and index finger. He pulled them out clean, except for the faint ring of red that was like lipstick around the second knuckles. Hannibal’s eyes narrowed with lust and he grabbed the hilt of the knife in Will’s hand, at first the other man resisted letting go, but when he slowed down in his thrusts, emphasizing his sincerity, Will relented. Hannibal took the weapon slowly out of his lover’s hand, Will was doing all the work with his hips now, and the salt and pepper haired man turned the blade on himself, tip pressed firmly to his stomach. With a small smile and a slow blink, jittery from the heat engulfing his dick, he stuck the end in his abdomen, somewhere he knew wouldn't be vital if he had gone deep enough for that to even matter. It made him gasp and he was so close to the edge now, but he wasn't finished. Hannibal dropped the knife, grabbed Will's hand firmly, splayed out his fingers, then pushed one of them greedily inside the wound. It made him shudder, meeting the pace of Will’s hips now, feeling the tip of his finger inside the cut sent stripes of ecstasy straight to his dick. Pumping himself in and out of Will, while Will pushed his finger deeper into his skin, Hannibal stroked the man’s cock, admiring the slight bend in it and the feeling of precum slicking the inside of his hand. Both of them were covered in a sheen of sweat and blood on the kitchen floor. He felt like an animal. He felt alive.

“This is what you wanted?” Will asked, words punctuated by small gasps.

Hannibal nodded, racing to the end, all fervor and fire. Slamming up into his Will. His Will. He would bleed only for this man. He would hold all of his beloved 's rage. He was made to bear any pain his lover put his way. Hannibal’s thoughts were becoming less linear. Will was panting, surely his legs burned, his dick twitching in Hannibal’s uncoordinated grasp, until finally he came. Seed shot onto Hannibal’s chest, mingling with his blood. The feeling made Hannibal climax too, unloading inside Will with a stifled moan. He couldn't take it. He sat up without thinking, grabbed Will behind the shoulders and sank his teeth into the crook of his neck. Will cried out, but didn't push him away. He bit deeper, Will’s hole milking his cock of every last drop of cum, his wounds throbbing and burning and flooding his body, his lover’s cum making a warm, slow trail down his stomach into the deep cuts. He might need stitches. Biting deeper. Will would be bruised. They'd have to set his nose. He did not break the brunette's delicate skin.

They sat like that on the floor, Hannibal’s teeth in his neck, Will’s trembling thighs straddling his waist. Hannibal pulled back, still ensnaring Will in his grasp and looked into his eyes. They seemed bright, normal, better than the storm he had cultivated for the last few weeks. He kissed his nose and brought him into a hug. Will sighed and rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Their breathing slowed. Their heartbeats turned to normal, almost in sync. It would be enough. It already was.

-----

I am so incredibly upset because I couldn't find the gif of fantasy Hannibal smiling on the ground as Will beats him :'( EDIT: I FOUND IT YAHOO

[faaun]

we sang in the aeroplane over the sea tgth ☆

[scandalouslamb]

do it for him

(kind of a surprise that i haven't done this yet. adding it to my pinned)

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

*remembers Wesker didn't have his finger on the trigger*

[abbysthighs]

Ellie knifing the shit out of some Hunters >

[miramisaki]

60(???) days until Charlie...??

[unseasoned-brain-worms]

Baldur's Gate 3 Fic- Feelings, or something.

“I heard you found a new lover.”

Dirk can only assume she looks like she's been caught in the middle of nabbing a wallet when he says that.

“What?”

~~~~~~~~

Baldur's Gate 3 Made me kiss Wyll, and my poor Druid had some feelings about his feelings. Enough that I've caved and Started writing Fanfic.

So, have an alternate version of that bit where Astarion asks you to pick someone. Which Dirk did not get, because she just went straight to break up with Wyll the next morning, how dare he attempt emotional sincerity.

“I heard you found a new lover.”

Dirk can only assume she looks like she's been caught in the middle of nabbing a wallet when he says that.

“What?”

“Don't be be coy darling, camp's really not that big, I know all about you and Wyll's little get together last night, I'm sure it was charming.  Probably very sweet.”  

Astarion makes those last two things sound extraordinarily insulting.  

“Well- sort of.”  She admits, watching Astarion make a great show of not being interested. 

She's not sure she views charming and sweet with the same open derision, but, honestly she's not especially comfortable with either.  

“He started talking about fairytale romances and courting me,”  She continues, her Brows furrowing as she does, she expects she looks a bit queasy, standing there chewing on her lower lip till it bleeds. 

Of course Astarion looks delighted by her discomfort.  He's trying to his credit to hide it.  She thinks she might see something else there.  Behind the laugh he's trying to hold back.  A flicker of concern that's being quickly washed away

“Wait, were you jealous?” 

“What, no!” He denies it like it's An absurd notion, pauses a moment and then continues.  A little reluctantly.

 “Maybe a little worried this would mean an end to our late night trysts, but not jealous.”  

No, no, he was definitely jealous, and he's Embarrassed about it, which is making it very hard for Dirk not to laugh.  But it's also not actually important, so she doesn't press the issue.

“Oh, well.  It doesn't.  We can keep doing that.”  She says, with the same awkwardness that always sneaks in when she's thinking about what passes for their relationship.  

Even if they haven't actually had a late night tryst in a while.  

The last two times he's asked she's ended up dragging him into help preparing more healing potions.  

“I told him I'm not interested in- uh, anything like that.” 

Somehow thinking about Wyll, and his painfully earnest affection is worse,  Astarion's flirtations feel insincere and baffling most of the time, but Wyll, thinking about being swept off her feet to ride off into the sunset, she thinks she's going to be sick.

“Really?”  He seems a bit stunned.  

“Yeah, I don't want to be courted-” Dirk blurts, it's out like a crossbow bolt.  And now she can't stop talking.

 “I don't even- he just started having all these feelings at me! And talking about how I was the sun in the sky and the church and the stars when I asked him about it this morning, and we’ve only known each other for a tenday and change! And all I did was let him kiss me and, and I don't know where any of that was coming from!”  

She's pacing back and forth as she talks, scratching a hole in the back of her hand as she does.  Glancing nervously at Astarion for some sign of agreement or encouragement, mostly he looks a little concerned.

“Well, I can hardly blame him for being a bit smitten, you are charming.”

Apparently this wasn't what Dirk wanted to hear.  

“No I'm not!”

He's laughing now, which does nothing to make her feel better.  But at least it distracts her enough that she's not clawing at herself anymore.

“Well,” he says, considering how to respond to that.  Dirk's inability to take a compliment at face value is equal parts insufferable and endearing.  If he just insists she is, she'll find a list of reasons to disagree.

“Maybe not at first, but you uh- grow on people.” 

He doesn't sound quite as flippant in that admission as he would like.

She just stares for a moment. 

“Is it the tadpole?”  She asks 

“Do you think it makes me more likable, or is it just making all of you horny,” she gestured vaguely at Astarion, who is back to trying not to laugh at how distressed she is by the concept of people liking her.

“Because I've never had anyone do this before and now it's like, once every two days, it's going to be Karlach next isn't it!  She can touch people now and she's going to ask me to fuck!”

And he's laughing again.   

She'd love to be mad about that, but this is an objectively stupid thing to be stressed by.

“Darling you're being ridiculous, if Karlach was going to make a move she would have by now, she's not exactly subtle.” 

“Fair point.”  Dirk says, and it is a little reassuring to hear, Karlach is so nice, but also she's intimidatingly tall.  

Dirk takes a deep breath, blowing some stringy hair out of her face as she does.  

“Thanks,” she says, pauses, realizes she isn't quite sure what she's thanking him for.  Which means he definitely doesn't know, so she should explain.  “For being normal.  About the sex I mean.”

She thinks from his face he's still not following.  It's probably a bad compliment.  

“Wyll and me locked lips for all of two seconds and he's acting like we're engaged is all, and I really appreciate you not doing that.  And not being any different at all about it now that we fucked and you know, not feeling a way or being weird about it.  So, uh, thank you for not doing that.  I think feelings are gross.”  

She's not quite sure she got the point across and the prickly undertone when Astarion speaks again makes her sure she hasn't. 

“Oh yes, pesky things, glad neither of us are burdened with them.”  He's trying very hard to be dismissive and is suddenly quite preoccupied with examining his nails.  

She curses in her head, picking at the frayed edges of her coat sleeves.  “Yeah, okay.”  She's definitely done something wrong.  

“I'm gonna help with breakfast.”  

She'll figure out what her latest social blunder is later.  She's gonna run away for now.   

She just turns and high tales it back towards her tent before things can get worse.

[s0fter-sin]

the thing that gets me about the, "oh it's quick bc it's war, it's more realistic," defence for soap's death is 09 ghost's and roach's deaths were abrupt as well but they were still treated with dignity

ghost screams for roach and tries to kill shepherd before he’s killed. we the player get to sit and watch with a dying roach

roach tries one last time to get the dsm even though it’s hopeless. we see the way they throw ghost's body, the rising dread as they spread the fuel. the hatred for shepherd drags out when he flicks the cigar and lights it and the screen slowly darkens, music swelling as he gets away with it and roach finally dies as well

we hear price scream through the comms and the devastating realisation hits that if he'd called just a little earlier, they might have lived

that is how you do an abrupt but dignified death that respects the audience

mw3 is how you throw together a rushed and disjointed climax and hope people swallow it

[depravedangelbaby]

ohmyg-d i absolutely love firbolgs too!! i’m basically a firbolg honestly

-feral lesbian anon

I've only played a firbolg once before, so I'm very excited to play another!! I recently played a half orc too n that was sooo much fun. I like playing tall PCs lol I'm a lil halfling irl!!

[netscapenavigator-official]

Something that Hollywood and video games keeping getting wrong is that getting shot or stabbed in the heart is an instant death. It’s not. Your consciousness is in your brain. If you get shot or stabbed in the heart, you’ll die when you bleed out, not from the initial injury. It’s a death that is only different to a throat slit in how it’s dramatized, and I feel it needs to be portrayed more accurately.

[chemicalbrew]

finished the base game of hat in time. now what 💜

[bunnakit]

hold me (like a knife) sounds fascinating, what is it about? 👀

WIP SNIPPETS GAME🌸

god okay so, buckle up because this is so dumb and convoluted.

basically during the kpts rewatch event @porschesbabydaddy made this shitpost and i said in the comments oh dont make me write it, to which dizzee of course encouraged me

so then i started writing it and @haahka made this meme about it before i'd even really gotten that far in the plot.

and what tumblr doesn't know about me is that i need VERY LITTLE encouragement to write the most batshit, in depth character analysis pieces ever.

so here i am, a few months later, writing an early 20s chan and gun are in love but can't be in love longfic, where gun destroys their relationship in an effort to keep up with his older brother and create a legacy; all leading to the inevitable end of him putting 4? 5? bullets into his ex lover and leaving him for dead on the steps of the theerapanyakul main compound. (:

if you wanted another little taste of it--

“Come here.” He stops when Gun gently tugs at his wrist and guides him to sit beside him on the sofa. Little moments like this have a way of bringing a flutter to his chest and relaxing all his bones. He misses his best friend in the tower, misses these scarce days when they can shed their roles and settle back into what they were before they became entangled in the dichotomy of the major and minor families.  They clink their glasses and each takes a sip before settling against the cushions at the back of the couch. Gun’s hand falls to rest on his thigh and Chan hides a smile behind the rim of his glass at the sensation. It’s grounding; draws him back to the now, and pushes away his guilt and his worries.  He turns his head just in time to feel Gun’s lips press against his, his stubble scraping against the corners and the hand on his thigh tightening its grip until it almost feels like he’s extracting the tendon from his flesh. Kissing Gun is something like pouring gasoline on a house fire; explosive, volatile, untamed. He wishes he wouldn’t get swept away in it each time he feels the flames lick up the walls of his ribcage. He doesn’t think a tidal wave could cool the burning longing in his chest. 

[skrunksthatwunk]

ok so idk if this is a hot take or whatever but i rewatched the rgg movie from 2007 and that shit ROCKS i like it so much more now bc like,, the first time i watched it i was expecting a straightforward adaptation of the first game's plot and that's just fully not what it is at all nor what it was trying to be

like yeah most of the nishiki final boss stuff at the end is pretty underwhelming but it's not about him. it's about kamurocho!! it's about the reasons people turn to crime and the humanity of everyone involved except for jingu lmao and how fucking bonkers mad you feel when it's a little too hot outside and?? sadomasochism??? between the masochist info guy and majima using the same door slamming technique on kiryu that he used for said info guy and then the very very sexual connotations to the majima chestsitting knife dick shot in the bedroom at the soapland I'm just saying there are. implications. like additional ones to the inherent ones of the kazumaji dynamic like yeah!! that's all good. and once you stop waiting on game events to happen you can just like,, enjoy the stuff happening in it. it's a very character-centric movie and that scratches an itch for me.

it's also like wayy funnier than i remembered lol. some of it's not really on purpose like the cg helicopter just skating all over town shattering windows for idk reasons I guess. probably because jingu's an asshole? idk you could probably read meaning into jingu's symbol of power carelessly wrecking kamurocho but i think it's probably just for shits. but like,, the baseball stuff (the scene where majima calls their match a doubleheader and then the subtitles explain what that is for like three lines over like 30 seconds of gunshot footage is fucking top notch) and kiryu's flip phone troubles and the hostage takers requesting nice expensive food and the hostages thanking them and then the cop being like "if they'd asked for anything more expensive we would have taken them out" and all that idk I'm so endeared to it rn

i also find it kinda fascinating that majima is so present in this because like,, to my understanding, before the release of 0 (and therefore before kiwami's majima everywhere system and whatnot), majima was considered this kinda random side character, like he'd just show up whenever and fuck off again like that. he played a much smaller role. he's not even especially important in the og yakuza, and this came out around 9 months before y2 so it's just based on y1 majima's vibe. yet they gave him significantly more attention than nishiki or kazama or even yumi (though all three were sorta background figures it's like they were already ghosts. man kazama doesn't even DIE in this, he just leaves. they make up for him living by making nishiki's hair a casualty bc oh my LORD what was that jdhshsh). truly goes to show what a silly guy does to a mf

(also they actually give majima and haruka an interaction here??? and he's kind to her and kiryu trusts him to not hurt her and she's like "idc I'll beat you up don't fucking TOUCH ojisan" and he's like "well damn. go on then" gah augh love. closest thing we have in rgg to my knowledge is majima kidnapping her offscreen and him [vague rgg5 spoilers] risking his and saejima's lives to save her bc she means so much to kiryu. here he just doesn't wanna hurt a kid)

obviously it's kinda weird to ditch most of the plot/key characters of the game and i don't think it's great that they tried to tie it in at the end how they did but like. eh idk I'm happy with it. it's a good time. i won't argue it's a masterpiece (mostly bc i don't like arguing over whether media is "objectively good" or whatever) but it DOES make me happy :D. so. thanks like a dragon (2007) mwah mwah xoxo

anyway point is it's about the vibes of playing yakuza, which is (for me) about getting immersed in the city and the little side plots of the people in it and whatever and then cramming the plot in last minute :)

[cherry-shipping]

started replaying broken age now after 6 years……… can you believe i felt a pang of jealousy and sadness that a character who is a literal silly knife with a face implied it had dated another character once (a spoon with a face)

[bbund]

I am sad to announce that I have developed a crush on Rinne Amagi and the Helter:Spider mv is to blame.