#multi layer chain

[kollamsupreme]

Bridal Gold Plated Ruby Pendant Multi Strand Layer Necklace for weddings and engagements. Traditional six-strand ball chain has a side mugappu/mogappu/mop pendant studded with rubies. You can team this elegant long-layered necklace with sarees for an ethnic look at weddings or festive occasions.

[sweetsummersemen]

I hate working for local government so much, like yeah it pays better than not for profits did but Jesus at what cost?

[ikibli]

A Realistic(ish) Humans Are Space Orcs Idea

Humans aren't called space orcs because we're better than every other species. We're called space orcs because that's the fantasy species that fits our evolutionary niche best.

Humans aren't terrifying because we're stronger or faster than all other alien species. We're terrifying because we just don't stop.

Even if we've got two broken limbs, have lost a large quantity of blood and have just been electrocuted, a desperate human will still try their best to fight and/or run. We can continue to function and fight with injuries that would have crippled or killed a member of another species several times over, and we might even survive afterwards.

Our ancestors killed prey by following it at a walking pace until it dropped from exhaustion(and possibly blood loss). We might need sleep, water and food to be healthy, but in a pinch we can just...not.

Our psychology is also unconventional, as a result of evolving on a death world. Most other species evolved on planets with relatively stable climates and few major predators.

Humans evolved on a planet where that wasn't true. Earth's axial tilt means that the climate is highly variable within a region based on the time of year, and its food chains are messes of multi-layer predation and opportunism.

This means that we're adaptable, and a lot more willing to take risks that are deemed suicidally insane by other species.

The average alien scientist's reaction to an unexpected prototype explosion is to suspend the project for review. The average human scientist's is "Well, this didn't work, let's try adjusting a few things. And if we can figure out a way to reliably replicate it, we can sell it to the military!"

We also don't really care if something makes logical sense as long as the reason made some sort of sense at the time.

And we don't give up. Tell a human they can't do something, and they'll take it as a challenge rather than an ultimatum. Tell a human to do something that aligns with their values, and they'll put themselves through anything to complete their mission.

Humans are viewed as space orcs, because we're stupidly reckless, nearly-indestructible brutes whose society and technology makes zero sense but somehow functions, from a planet where everything is potentially deadly.

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[ Paul Atreides x F!Reader ] 1307 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? ARRAIGNED MARRIAGE TROPE EXCEPT BOTH PARTIES ARE PISSY ABOUT IT, not proofread LOL.

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: I plan on writing a prequel at some point. This is most definitely going to be multi part

Next chapter

Masterlist

One———

Your father stood beside you as the door of our ship slowly lowered, meeting the grassy ground of Caladan with a deep thud.

The air was cold, crisp, and smelt of the sea. The same sea you could hear smashing against the cliff side with the help of the impenetrable wind.

A fog lingered in the air as you watched four guards step out forward and as you follow, the Atredies household seem to rise out of the ground as you walked towards the estate.

Standing tall, cold, still and terrified you watch as the Duke of Atreides, and soon the Imperium, limps towards your father, bloodied knife in hand.

“The life debt has been payed” Irulan, your little sister, pushes out.

Your head snaps to look at her and instantly you speak, only thinking to spare your family

“Spare our fathers life and I will be your bride. The throne will be yours” you speak, looking the young Atredies in the eyes. Anger, chaos, and rage is all you can see within them.

Hidden behind layers of metal blinds and chain mail, your eyes went to the body of Feyd-Rautha. Still and cold. This is the first time anyone has seen him so… at peace.

Your body shakes when the Duke of Atreides drives his foot into the ground in-front of the Emperor. A horrifying silence fell over the room as he slowly outstretches his hand, the only sound in the space being the hot Arakkis wind and Paul’s labored breathing.

Fear. That is all you feel as you watch your father hesitantly take the Dukes left hand and begin the decent to his knees. How could this be happening? The imperium is going to swallow this naive boy whole and take your whole family down with him.

The second your fathers lips touched the cold metal everyone dropped to their knees, including Irulian. All who stood were you, Paul, and a fremen who soon stormed out. You took a deep breath.

Once you arrived inside Paul and your father disappeared to discuss the implications of this agreement. The transfer of your ownership.

You were left standing in-front of a large window facing the cliff side, an Atreides guard standing a few feet behind you. You loathed him already, you hated his very existence. This false prophet. As the waves crashed against the jagged cliff you tried to savor your remaining moment of pseudo-freedom. Alas, women are never free in this world.

“You are requested for dinner, your highness” A member of the staff stammered out. You let out a small hum before turning around with a polite smile. From the moment you were born this is what you were made for. A political marriage. One of convenience. You stepped forward.

“Of course”

———

Paul was already there, seated at the head of the table. He did not look up on your entrance, but he did acknowledge your presence. A small nod was the only thing he offered as a greeting, his focus being on your father who was discussing trade routes.

You took a seat next to your father as you waited for the arrival of Lady Jessica. Hands in lap you picked at your nails until you could no longer, a rage burning within you.

Soon she entered before taking a seat on Paul’s right. Their blue eyes were captivating, despite their departure from the desert planet.

The wedding was to be held on the home of the Atredies, Caladan. Every and all representatives of the Great Houses and other branches of the Imperium were to be present.

“It is an event of extreme significance” Lady Jessica spoke, “we have 4 weeks before the wedding where we will then depart back to Arakkis shortly there after.”

You took a deep breath as you watched her, your eyes occasionally drifting to Paul.

“I believe it is time for a proper introduction.” Jessica said looking at Paul. She says your full name and motions to you with her hand, “Lady Corrino is the firstborn child of late-emperor Shaddam, and the heiress of the imperium.”

“My lord.” You bid him a nod of acknowledgment before averting your eyes to the table. You thought that if you stared at it long enough you would wake up from this night terror.

A nod was his response to your greeting as he looked away from you, turning back towards the window. In the distance, he could just make out the edge of the caladan sea, the endless gray waves lapping up against the estate's cliffside property.

Beside him, he could hear his mother speak to you again. "I trust your journey was not too terrible."

“It was pleasant. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Your father spoke and your gut churned. The normality of this exchange is twisting your mind in ways you cannot imagine. The politeness, the facade, it all made you sick.

"Good." A simple statement. Paul felt no motivation to continue the conversation even before it had started. His mother continued on with her own chatter with you and your father.

"But for now, I will let and paul get to know each other a bit more while I escort you back to your ship." Jessica smiled, taking the cue to step away. she gave him a pointed look before she left, however-- be polite. A trade of ownership, you have been successfully dumped at the doorstep of the Atredies and once your father left this planet you would be at their mercy.

A sickening silence fell over the room. Paul glanced away from you, not wishing to return any look. Instead, his eyes searched through the rain-soaked windows, seeking for something to do besides idle chat. This was a waste of time.

“I am as dissatisfied about this as you are my lord” You boldly state. Not caring for any reprimanding or impoliteness. You were filled with rage and nothing more. Blinded by your distasteful and undesirable future.

He raised an eyebrow in your direction, glancing back at you. Silence lingered between them for a moment before he finally spoke. "and what gave it away?"

“Political Marriages are always a fuss”

A soft chuckle. he had to give you respect for that. It was the first time in your conversation with him as of yet that you were not just spouting nonsense. "No, I have to agree with you on this point. There is nothing convenient about being wed for political purposes."

It was almost humorous, in a way. He was stuck with you just as you were with him. “Two strangers tied together by duty.” There was just a hint of a sigh at the end of his words, he sounded just a little bitter. Paul’s eyes flicked off in a random direction, finding no real distraction from you and he was stuck within the room with you.

“Tell me about yourself." His voice was flat as he asked the question, it was more out of curiosity than any deep interest.

“I’m educated in Imperium law, structure, history…” you drone on about all of your prospects. Hobbies you were forced to have as a child to prepare you for this future.

"you're a woman of talents, it seems." He says

It was better to have a pretty fiancé who also did not seem like she needed to be supervised all the time. At least it meant his duties were lessened, to a degree. He could focus on other things, rather than wasting a moment worrying after you.

“Shall I walk you to your room, my lady? it was long journey and you must be worn out." His voice held a tone of kindness only one in high society is trained to have. Superficially sincere. You wanted to vomit.

“That would be lovely thank you” you smile

———

Next chapter

[adinfernumadinfinitum]

Welcome to my silly little fan theory @emmg:

How Raphael is the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3…

…or how I give him more importance than I should.

DISCLAIMER:

In this ‘dissertation,’ I present my take on things based on Dungeons and Dragons 5e lore from the Forgotten Realms universe, along with fandom theories and headcanons where they suit me. This is NOT an in-depth analysis of anything, so I won’t be reciting specific quotes, etc.

I repeat, this is just MY take on things. If a similar theory already exists, feel free to reach out, and I’ll gladly tag the material!

Oh, and there are a lot of spoilers about, well, everything, so read at your own risk ⚠️

I thank the lovely @bitethedevil for allowing me to tag their posts, making it easier on me so I don’t have to write everything out! I also want to take this moment to appreciate their work and contributions to this fandom! ☺️

Introduction

Baldur’s Gate 3 is a brilliant, complex, multi-layered game filled with multiple villains, heroic figures, and a plot that weaves players in seamlessly. That’s why we love this game—at least, that’s why I do—the gripping storyline and its faceted characters.

The game is set in the Forgotten Realms with DnD lore and rules, while still adding and maintaining its own unique features and twists.

But what if we entirely take a look at it from DnD lore perspective?

Section 1: Raphael as the core character in Baldur’s Gate 3

Fans of the Emperor might argue with me here, but oh man, have you seen how many pies Raphael has his fingers in?

This narcissistic little shit of a cambion plotted his grand design to take the Crown of Karsus for over 2,000 years, planning everything with terrifying precision and putting in a staggering amount of effort—all to manipulate Tav or Durge into giving him the crown.

To understand just how far back his scheming goes, we have to start with the fall of Netheril. As Raphael himself tells us, this is where it all began, and when his father seized the crown, it became impossible for Raphael to obtain it himself.

Baator—the Nine Layers of Hell—has its own system and rules. The plane is aligned as lawful evil, and by its laws, anyone who breaks them is punished; in other words, theft is a crime (don’t try this at home edition).

Am I going to explain the system and rules of the Nine Hells? Hell no, or I’ll be sitting here until next Halloween. Sorry, maybe in a separate post sometime (or not) 😭

So Raphael had to get creative if he wanted to get his greedy claws on the crown.

You can read about how much Raphael’s involvement is actually found in the game Baldur’s Gate 3 here.

What’s relevant for this ‘dissertation’ are the following points, which all show how he orchestrates the plot:

1. Raphael, Vlaakith, and the Astral Prism —

Raphael even plots to capture Orpheus. Not personally, of course, but with the knowledge that it could benefit him and would even serve its purpose in the future. This is a crucial detail.

However, I don’t believe Raphael would craft or have someone craft an item like the Astral Prism, as well as the bindings of Orpheus (the mask, chains, and binding crystals) and the Orphic Hammer. It’s more likely these objects already existed in the Hells, with Raphael profiting by dealing with them.

Sadly there is no official information on that, I really find that interesting.

As for why the Orphic Hammer is called Orphic Hammer - why is Orpheus called Orpheus? He’s a liberator for his people, having inherited the power of Mother Gith, who freed the Gith from mind flayer enslavement. The character of Orpheus draws heavily from Orpheus in Greek mythology, a symbol of liberation, love, and the attempt to rescue a soul from the bonds of death. The term “Orphic” reflects this sense of breaking free from constraints or seeking transformation (of course, it has other meanings, too, but this one feels like what the developers were aiming for).

So the hammer’s name has both symbolic depth and a bit of pun, as it’s intended to free the character Orpheus from his chains.

ANYWAY

2. Raphael, Moonrise Towers, and the Gauntlet of Shar —

The amount of interwoven contracts Raphael has made in the Shadow Cursed Lands is suspicious, and each and every one of them is too , an important point.

Isn’t it just a bit too convenient that Ketheric’s misery plays right into Raphael’s hands? The Shadow-Cursed Lands—Reithwin, once ruled by Ketheric, formerly full of Selunite worshippers but ruined by schemes of the Dark Lady who turned a grieving worshipper of her sister into a Shar follower and leader of an army of Dark Justiciars—is a whole breeding ground for contracts and a stage for Raphael’s play.

Hold on, I’m not implying that I believe Raphael had a hand in Shar’s mischief here, but I do think Raphael handpicked Ketheric, a grieving and obsessed madman (a truly tragic character, honestly), to be an unwitting pawn in his schemes, without directly involving himself. To do this, he contracted with desperate beings like the Architect, Yurgir, and the last Dark Justiciar.

To understand why Raphael would even need Ketheric, we have to look a step further.

3. Raphael and my beloved raccoon boy, Gortash —

Raphael buying Gortash from his parents was a calculated move and the final piece in the Netherbrain plot scheme.

I believe Raphael specifically chose Enver Gortash, a boy with potential, for his plans to get the Crown of Karsus.

Look, Gortash is anything but dumb; in fact, he’s the exact opposite. He learned the ropes in Hell, literally imprisoned in Raphael’s House of Hope. All jokes aside about pot-scrubbing duty and overhearing Raphael and Haarlep getting it on, Gortash is a quick learner.

Raphael just had to watch as Gortash escaped the House of Hope with vital information about the crown. With this, Raphael set up an ambitious, cunning man with the drive to steal the crown.

And this is where Ketheric returns to the picture. Ketheric, the chosen of Myrkul; Gortash, the chosen of Bane; and Durge, the chosen of Bhaal.

As for how Raphael might have gotten his hands on Durge? I’ll leave that as the theory’s plot hole.

I could fill it with headcanons—like Gortash and Durge knowing each other even before Gortash was sold—but that feels a bit far-fetched.

Actually, all of this is a bit far-fetched, but hey, it’s my silly little theory.

But hey again, we’re slowly coming to a conclusion how Raphael is the mastermind behind BG3, do you see my vision?

All Raphael needed was patience. The chosen ones, Gortash and Durge, set the stage by planning the Netherbrain coup and, in stealing the crown, executed Raphael’s plan. All they needed was the third chosen, Ketheric, to carry out the rest of the plot: building the Absolute’s army, etc., the rest we know...

So, what was left? Just someone desperate enough to make a deal with Raphael and actually hand over the Crown of Karsus. And how would he pull that off?

✨The Tadpole Gang✨

Every single one of them fits the bill. Especially if the player chooses Durge.

The next question is: how could he manipulate the group if they were under the Absolute’s influence? Well, that’s where the Emperor comes onto the stage.

Because, hear me out one more time: isn’t it convenient that the Emperor, of all people, finds the Astral Prism? A figure obsessed with freedom and manipulation, ambitious and clever, who would serve perfectly as a kind of protection shield from the Elder Brain’s influence for the gang? And to that even a disposable figure as it is a mind flayer who would not be trusted in the end.

(Naturally, in the game the player is the ultimate executional force, making any kind of higher plan or scheme either perfect or useless)

Nevertheless, this is as far as I will dive into this specific pond.

I just think it adds up nicely.

But Björni, if you have a Section 1, what about a Section 2? you might ask. Well, here it comes…

… how this ‘dissertation’ is actually about Mephistopheles being the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Section 2: Raphael as the Scapegoat

DnD’s lore about fiends—and, specifically, cambions—teaches us that they’re doomed to fail from birth. While they may think they’re in control of their schemes, they’re actually playing into the hands of their fiendish parent.

Ever wondered why Mephistopheles would even bother devouring Raphael if we defeat him? Sure, cambion sons are nourishing (yum yum), but given Mephistopheles’ personality, I’d guess he does it to humiliate his son, even in death, for being a failure—a failure to retrieve the crown for his father.

But wait, Mephistopheles already had the crown—why would he bother plotting all of this just to get it back? Isn’t that a bit over-the-top, Björni?

Bear with me: it’s not officially written anywhere, but it’s more or less canon based on what we know of the Archdevils Asmodeus and Mephistopheles.

Asmodeus rules the Hells, while Mephistopheles, as the Archduke of the 8th layer, Cania, is arguably the second most powerful being in Baator. Mephistopheles has never stopped dreaming of overthrowing Asmodeus, even after repeatedly failing miserably. But if he openly tried to use the crown against Asmodeus, it would be a direct affront, and Asmodeus would have shut it down from the start.

Mephistopheles has other children besides Raphael, and Raphael isn’t exactly useless, he’s actually the complete opposite. Strategically, it wouldn’t make sense to discard such a puppet (call him son)—unless Raphael had done something atrocious. And for someone as mighty as Mephistopheles, controlling his little cambion son would be child’s play. So, then why does Raphael hate his father so much, and why is Raphael ‘residing’ in Avernus?

As we know, Avernus is the armpit of Baator, a plane for exiles and outcasts.

I think Mephistopheles intentionally filled his relationship with Raphael with hatred, so Raphael’s ambition to overthrow his father would ignite and one day serve him. When Mephistopheles got the Crown of Karsus, unable to wield it himself, he set the stage for his son’s scheme—by casting Raphael aside, Mephistopheles set him on the path to steal the crown, with Mephistopheles only indirectly involved in overthrowing Asmodeus. Raphael would do the dirty work—taking over the other layers—before ultimately facing his father, who could then just snatch the crown from him. And yes, I do believe Mephistopheles is arrogant enough to think he’d still be more powerful than his son, even with a god-like artifact. He has that bloated of an ego.

BUT (Nr. 36,252), what about Asmodeus? Wouldn’t he step in and crush the plan?

Here’s the thing: Asmodeus generally doesn’t mind if his archdukes fight for control of their layers, as long as it doesn’t threaten his supreme authority or destabilize Hell’s hierarchy. In fact, he encourages a bit of rivalry and ambition among his archdevils, as infighting serves his purposes.

And can you imagine THE Asmodeus being worried about an over-ambitious cambion?

However, this leads to the TRUE instigator and the true subject of this ‘dissertation’…

… how Asmodeus is actually the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Section 3: Asmodeus doing things, just because

Joke’s on you—it’s been about Asmodeus all along, because even if he’d lose (not that he ever would—he’s just that powerful), he’d claim at the last minute that it was his plan all along. Losing trusted allies? What a bunch of traitors—perfect excuse to clean house. Losing Baator? Finally, he was sick of the job.

All jokes aside, Asmodeus being the cunning bastard he is, would likely pull off everything mentioned above.

To understand why he’d even bother, let’s take a quick (really quick, this is already getting too long) dive into his background and shenanigans in DnD.

Throughout DnD’s development from 1e to 5e, Asmodeus has gone through quite the evolution, eventually becoming a Greater Deity, the Embodiment of Evil, and one of the mightiest beings in existence, rivaled only by Ao.

While 5e keeps things vague to allow player interpretation, Asmodeus has consistently been the most powerful entity in the Hells—a schemer, strategist, and supreme manipulator.

(Here’s the only quote I’ll reference:) “[…] His sinister machinations could take centuries, if not millennia, to come to fruition, and his master plans extended across the entire multiverse. His labyrinthine, insidious intrigues could seem inexplicable to most outside observers, for Asmodeus let even his own servants stew in fear of his next move. With all the planes as his board, the Lord of Lies maneuvered the forces of evil like chess pieces in his grand designs, slowly and subtly manipulating everyone from deities to, when needed, lowly mortals.”

He’s described as being a thousand steps ahead of everyone. And while most of his plans serve greater purposes beyond even godly comprehension, some things he does just because—just for fun.

CONCLUSION

Of course Asmodeus knew Mephistopheles had the crown. Of course he knew Mephistopheles would never use it openly against him. And of course he knew Mephistopheles would keep scheming to use it indirectly, bringing his cambion son Raphael into the game.

Why would Asmodeus let all this happen, and why am I saying he’s the real mastermind?

Like already mentioned, Asmodeus often (indirectly) encourages and manipulates his archdukes to scheme and fight among themselves as a means to reinforce his dominance, foster survival of the fittest, and test loyalty within the infernal hierarchy. However, he maintains strict boundaries, and any conflict that risks his supreme authority, disrupts Hell’s role in the multiverse, or leads to excessive chaos would be swiftly and ruthlessly quashed. In Asmodeus’s mind, such rivalries are a useful tool—as long as they remain safely under his control.

In my view, the Crown of Karsus was never a real threat to him; this whole plot served his entertainment, tested loyalties, or helped him gauge his chess pieces.

And that’s how Asmodeus is the real mastermind behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Thanks for reading this mass of nonsense ❤️

Why I even bothered with all this shit? It’s one of the key plot points in my longfic, Ah, You Devil!

[narutocharacterpolls]

FINAL ROUND

HATAKE KAKASHI vs SENJU TSUNADE

Reasons for submission under the cut

Kakashi

relatable as an adult

he is just an overworked guy who was told to watch some kids w LOTS of issues

needs therapy

good presence and guidance in Narutos life

interesting

cares about and is dedicated to his students very much

he is just cool

he is trying his best despite what he has been through in the past

is up for having fun but still knows when to be serious

was a narcissistic shit but grew out of it

has good intentions

sexy

wonderfully complex and well developed character

incredibly resilient and supportive

a sad and deeply broken man

always willing to give his life to protect them and his other precious people

just wanted everything to be ok for once in his life

hated Danzo

his friendship with Gai is adorable

the way he teases Tenzo is fun

he’s known as cool and aloof but in reality he’s a huge dork

Gai would want him to win

Tsunade

milf….

was the best hokage

the regulation she created to include medics on every team saved so many lives

she's funny and a complex and interesting character

is a bad bitch

probably THE most competently written female character in the entire series

she has a very rich history that plays into her character's actions and motivations

wanting to be the best medic-nin possible in order to save more lives because she lost her love Dan, and also change the way ninja squads operated to always have a medic to save more lives did so much for the better during the war to reduce casualties

after being broken down by so many people she cares about dying, she dips and leaves behind ninja society, which has taken everything from her (including wiping out her clan)

because Tsunade is also one of the most legendary/strongest ninja alive, no one could really stop her or chain her down. It takes the conviction of a child who wants her to save the village and heal his friends to get her back to Konoha, despite the all the trauma she's endured

she's a medic with a fear of blood that overcomes that to fight her own teammate and beat his ass so Orochimaru stops killing and maiming people

she steps up to be a leader because it's what the new generation need and someone has to fix all the stuff broken by her selfish teammates and old teacher

the strongest female character both in physical strength and the strength of her writing. It's like she was written first as a character versus most of the other female characters being written first as Girl and Love Interest

Tsunade is vain and a chronic gambler and drunk, she is really brash and abrasive, she is traumatized. But she's also deeply caring, an incredibly accomplished woman, one of the smartest people/medics in the world, and a great leader

she's multi-layered. She is a woman, but her entire character isn't just Woman

finally finished the job on Jiraiya on previous poll

strong arms

she is strong and smart and quick as a whip but still soft and caring when it comes to her loved ones. Characters with rough exteriors who are mushy inside are very good

[blu3-ja3]

Civilian clothing? Absolutely and a little Treat as well! Enjoy Lovelies!

O'Connor: Long sleeves and covered neck always, even when hot. Shes insecure about her burn scar and has enough people staring at her for a lifetime. On a very rare occasion does she wear short sleeves and it's ONLY with the 141 around. She likes rich jewel tones and soft fabrics, if it's textured it feels horrible or it's too tight on her skin, she hates how her scar feels. She likes silver jewelry and simple makeup, a bit of gloss and her eyes (shadow, liner, cute wing, and mascara) her nails are always painted whatever colors the sergeants pick. A skirt with nice tights or leggings and a cute boot? Yes. A nice pair of jeans with a cute belt and her old black combat boots, classic. Her hair is up, braided, ponytail, bun or beanie. It's only when she goes somewhere nice does she have it down. Her bag always has her knife, a bandana, and a hair tie along with her phone and wallet.

Price: Lumberjack, lots of well fitting flannels and cable knit short sleeve polos. Nice slacks or jeans with nice combat boots and a well kept leather belt. Nice wrist watch that was a gift from Ghost. Bucket hat that matches his flannels color, he originally only had two but Gaz found a color matched bucket hat for each shirt the man had. He didn't wear them at first but eventually indulged his partner. His beard is always well manicured and trimmed.

Ghost: Mans is unironically fashionable and only wears black. Wears long and short sleeve button ups they're all perfectly tight and hugs his chest and arms well. Soap makes sure of that. Nice jeans or slacks with a black and silver belt and his well worn combat boots. Silver wrist watch, chain necklace, and rings, with black nails. He keeps a face mask on and most times wears a beanie so his eyes and the makeup on them are the only thing seen. There's a difference between Ghost doing his eyes and Soap doing his eyes. Ghost's makeup is what he always does, smeared black nothing fancy. Soap's is intricate with liner and designs, it's still chaotic but in a beautiful way, it's perfect for Ghost.

Gaz: Fashion king, everything he wears is color coordinated with Price. Sweaters with knitted designs or embroidery over a white or black collared shirt. Well tailored black or brown slacks or jeans with a belt to match the sweater main color. Nice pair of chucks customized for Gaz by Soap as a birthday present. Lots of silver jewelry and accessories out the ass.

Roach: Nice acid washed jeans and graphic tees under an unbuttoned flannel. Nice pair of vans and goofy mismatched socks. Patterned belts, multi colored beanies, and chipped nail polish. He keeps his skateboard on him and walks around with his dog Ripley.

Soap: Punk Soap? Punk Soap... Why else the goofy hair cut? He's got a custom leather jacket with hand made patches, studs, and spikes. Graphic or band tees with ripped jeans or colored checkered pants. Well worn black combat boots with custom design embroidery. Chocker with a little ghost charm, rings and layered necklace and bracelets, as well as tongue and ear piercings. Will sometimes wears fake nose and lip piercing jewelry. Nail polish and eye makeup that matches his outfit, wears black lipstick sometimes it drives Ghost crazy.

Lil Treat height and ethnicity ( I think that what its called but idk I'm not smart)

Ghost: 6'7" (British Dad/German Mom)

O'Connor: 6'5" (Irish Mom/Scottish Dad)

Price: 6'4" (Both British Parents)

Gaz: 6'2" (Swahili Mom/British Dad)

Roach: 5'9" (Spanish Mom/Jewish Dad)

Soap: 5'7" (Both Scottish Parents)

[p1nkcanoe]

the polaroid collection: rain

this is part five of the polaroid collection, based off of 'picture this'. you can either find the masterlist here, read on ao3, or read below:

!! Some themes may be triggering, proceed with caution. Rain is completely submissive for swiss and is described as being “brainless” and with “blank eyes” while also being played with by the other. Everything in this chapter is completely consensual but the conversation is not explicitly mentioned in the chapter, only implied. Still, if any of these themes are not for you, please do not feel obligated to read. Your comfort comes first! <3

He looks so pretty like this — down on his knees. 

Submissive. 

Compliant. 

The wetness brimming his eyes only adds to the twisted feeling Swiss feels in his gut as he leans over the water ghoul who is so nicely settled back on his calves and stripped bare. Wet, covered in a layer of sweat and soaked in a puddle of his own slick. His strong right hand rests gently against the front of Rain’s neck, the calloused pads of his fingers pressing ever so gently into that artery there. He doesn’t squeeze. He isn’t cruel – not yet. He simply holds him there, still, where he sits while the blood beneath his skin pulses under his touch and Rain’s breath hitches rhythmically under his palm. Waiting patiently in anticipation. 

When his shoulders suddenly slump inwards and his abdominal muscles go tight, Swiss tsks. A soft click of the tongue – he cannot believe his own eyes. The water ghoul shudders and shivers like there’s an electric current dancing just under his skin, and then he’s cumming over the pretty skin of his thighs, cock twitching and jumping as it spurts weakly and adds to the mess of his other two orgasms that he’s previously squirted over the top of them. 

What a mess… Someone will have to clean this up. 

Rain’s jaw hangs lax and heavy against the thin webbing between Swiss’ thumb and index finger and he watches as a little more light drains from his eyes despite how they shine so beautifully with his tears. A rich shade of brown goes dark and dull. Flooded with nothingness. 

So dramatic, Swiss thinks… 

He wouldn’t have him any other way. 

“Good,” Swiss praises, nice and simple, and wipes away a tear with his thumb when it carves a thick line down his cheek. Just the feeling of his fingers on his face makes Rain fall further into his touch like a purring feline. Swiss traces the swell of his swollen lips and his dark lashes flutter, his eyes rolling back in his skull when the digit makes its way inside of his mouth to press down on the center of his tongue. His breath gets caught in his throat. 

Swiss hums, considering his current state. If he wasn’t carefully monitoring his quickening pulse with his hands he would’ve thought he was really choking him with the way his body reacts to simple gestures and prodding. 

Perhaps he’s dropped further than he thought. 

Rain is so flushed with raw desire and blush that his usual, dusty blue hue is nearly purple. Lavender in color. Gorgeous. His chest blooms with patches of heat rash and shades of pastel and plum and is spattered with the other’s release. He looks like art — like a canvas touched by Jackson Pollock – and Swiss is more than proud of his work. 

But Satanas, what a mess he is… 

The multi ghoul straightens up to his full height, bending at the waist only slightly to wrap a fist around the dainty gold chain connecting Rain’s nipples and pull, tugging him forward by the jewelry while he gasps and cries out until his throat is raw. 

Swiss pulls and tugs impatiently, forcing the ghoul to use his body and move until his perfectly sculpted nose becomes reacquainted with his tummy. The dense curls there tickle his sensitive skin. He nuzzles into them to revel in how they caress his cheeks and get caught slightly in the short prickle of his unshaved face. 

It’s a guilty pleasure of his – Swiss knows this – but usually he’s far too high or caught in the inescapable holds of sleep before he gives into it. Now, when he’s gone stupid, there is no better time to allow him to indulge. 

Swiss lays a hand to the back of his hand and encourages him further. Rain bows inwards at the shoulders and the notches of his spine press against the center of his back as he presses in closer, reaching that space where his tummy hair turns to coarse pubic hair and sniffing him there. Good and deep. 

He’s richest here. His heady scent settles thick in Rain’s head like morning fog over the lake and the water ghoul can’t hold back the sudden urge to sink his teeth into him. He needs to taste and get him on his tongue. It’s purely instinctual, driven by the devil that lives inside of him. He drags his swollen lips upwards along the skin of his abdomen and leaves a trail of saliva as he goes, and when he gets to the soft swell of fat just beneath the multi ghoul’s belly button, he sucks his dusky skin into his mouth and bites. 

Rain is lucky that Swiss doesn’t make the quick decision to punish him for it. 

Especially when his fangs threaten to break through and his jaw begins to tighten like a dog with a rubber toy. 

Swiss hisses, drops a hand to grip him firmly under his jaw, and digs his thumb into the hollow space between his upper and lower jaw in an attempt to encourage him to release. Rain makes a noise that’s somewhere between a growl and a moan and Swiss digs his digit in deeper. This time, it’s a warning.  

At least he’ll bruise beautifully – it’s a sacred claim that the multi ghoul usually leaves on the other spontaneously during nights of passion and heat. It’ll be an honor to carry the mark of the water ghoul on his tummy for everyone to see. He’ll show it off to everyone, show how he got Rain – who has never been big on biting or leaving lingering marks of any kind – to bite. 

When Rain finally releases him from between his teeth his skin is already an angry red and sore, and the outline of his entire maw bruised instantaneously into his skin causes his dick to throb and hit the other just under his chin, leaving a tender kiss of pre over his adam’s apple. Rain pets his fingers over the mark and the tips of his claws dip into the impressions of his fangs. He apologizes for his bite with a lazy kiss. 

His lips feel like they’re on fire; his tongue hot as coals. Swiss should punish him for it, but he won’t. This time he’ll give him a pass. 

Swiss peers down at him as he admires his work with hooded eyes, like he’s proud of himself. If there’s actually any thoughts in his head he’d be surprised. The dumb bastard. Rain had gone brainless while bouncing on his cock more than half an hour ago. Still, as he leans in to lick at the marks again, Swiss shakes his head and thinks of other ways that he could be far more useful with his mouth.. 

He tilt’s Rain’s head upwards and meets his eyes. They’re so dark, so shiny, and so empty. Flooded with nothing. Hollow in the head. He tuts, releasing his jaw and letting his head slump forward to pet away the messy curls that had fallen in his face. Also effectively managing to comb some of his own cum from earlier in between the ebony strands. 

Swiss’ fingers are like a magic touch. Rain manages to lift his head on his own so that he can present his tongue to the ghoul who then runs his hand down the side of his face to pull his bottom lip down with the rough pad of his thumb. Once again his jaw drops with it and this time Swiss reaches for his dick, lining it up with his mouth so he can slip it in over his tongue. Rain moans sweetly, nice and low and drawn out.

He takes it so well, so eager, just like he has been for however long they’ve been here.

The plug in Rain’s ass buzzes when he settles back on his heels and sinks into the floor, Swiss’s length sliding across his tongue and coating it entirely in pre. He moans so beautifully at the taste and begins to close his lips around it to suck like the good boy he is, but Swiss is quick to stick his finger into the corner of his mouth and press down on his molars, effectively and silently probing him to open back up. 

He’s just testing his mouth for now. Testing his patience and ability to follow simple tasks while his melted brain floods with his scent and taste (and definitely not taking it slow because he might still be a little sensitive from his last orgasm and Rain like this makes him harder than steel). 

Admittedly, Swiss is being greedy. He’s being selfish, and Rain is more than willing to be the one he uses to stick his dick into to abuse. He’s been used to his limits and beyond, plugged, and toyed with, and all for Swiss’ own amusement and pleasure. The orgasms painted over his pretty thighs had been unexpected bonuses – ones that led to both pleasure and pain at times with sensitivity and overstimulation – but welcome nonetheless. At this point he can barely remember his own name. The only thing that bounces around in his head is everything that has to do with Swiss and the sound of the word ‘please’, though he has yet to let it slip from his lips a single time. That’s not his fault, though. His mouth has been rather full. 

Swiss feels so heavy against his tongue. He can feel all of him – the flared ridge of his head, the vein throbbing on the side… Swiss crowds further into his space and Rain hums when his balls tease his chin. Somehow his scent manages to get stronger. His pubic hair tickles his nose. Swiss gives him another centimeter before he ruts. 

The sudden intrusion into his throat is more than surprising and Rain gags. He isn’t physically affected by it further than the hideous noise that erupts from his throat and the violent spasm in his belly, and he certainly isn’t mentally affected by it by any means. But Swiss cups his face sweetly anyways and pulls out enough so that the tip kisses his teeth, offering him a second to recover and settle his stomach – though he doesn’t seem to need it – before sliding back in over his tongue and playing with the back of his throat. This time, there’s no question whether or not he’ll slide deeper, it’s just a matter of when. 

Rain’s nostrils flare wildly as Swiss toys with him, his eyes going dull again starting from the center right before Swiss guides his head just right and pushes his dick deep into that tight, hot throat. His gills are closed tight. Both the sets on his neck and on his sides. He isn’t sure why he’s not using them apart from the assumption that perhaps he’s enjoying the struggle. Or maybe he’s beyond being able to realize he has the unique ability to breathe with a cock in his throat. 

Pathetic fucker. 

It’s hard to feel bad for him. 

The air gets warmer the more that Swiss thrusts into his mouth and it’s not long before the sweat begins to accumulate on the back of his thighs, threatening to gather and drip down like the tears that gather along Rain’s waterline. His pretty lashes are pulled together in thick, wet clumps by the wetness that clings from them, and Swiss watches rapt as one finally wells up enough to escape from the corner of his right eye and crawl downwards towards his chin. 

It’s a crime how beautiful he is, even when he’s barely there. 

Rain swallows around him and his throat spasms and clicks around his cock. Swiss pushes in that much deeper until he tickles the tip of Rain’s nose with the dense curls at the base of his cock. The pressure from his strong hips pushes Rain backwards slightly and the plug buzzes aggressively against the floor. 

If the sound of the toy hadn’t rung into his ears then Swiss would’ve forgotten about the toy in his ass that he worked in there himself. The water ghoul has become so stupid – so numb to the feeling – that he barely reacts when Swiss places a hand on his shoulder to force him further into the boards beneath him, forcing the plug in deeper and more insistent against that spot inside of him. 

He knows he can feel it. He should. 

Rain doesn’t so much as twitch. 

His other hand makes it’s way around Rain’s curling right horn, using it as a handle to drag the ghoul’s head over the length of his cock as he fucks his throat. He pulls him off slowly just to listen for the moment that he desperately sucks in a breath just to plunge back in with a force that he should feel bad for. But Rain takes it, and the toy continues to buzz, and the chain pinched tight to either side of his chest swings and glints under the light with every glorious slide across his lazy tongue. 

“Touch yourself,” Swiss demands of him, voice rough and gravely and thick with desire, and he watches as the ghoul beneath him moves languidly to wrap a loose fist around his dick, which is suspended in a strange state between being hard and soft, yet still leaking obscenely over his skin and down between his trembling thighs. His muscles flex and go slack like they’re made of rubber instead of flesh and protein – uncoordinated and spastic ��� moving in an uneven rhythm of quick jerks and loose tugs that cannot be pleasurable. The cock in his mouth has muddled his brain and ruined his ability to do one of the easiest tasks that ghouls are capable of:  

Fuck, breed, obey your master, and get off. 

Swiss reminds him that he can do better than what his pathetic body is presenting as an excuse for masturbation. His words are spat with poison; sharp and cruel. 

“Secondo in his coffin could do a better job at getting his crumbling dick to spurt than whatever you’re doing right now. Give me something more or I’ll just have to go find something else to stick my dick into to make it shoot.” 

It’s an empty threat, he knows it, but it makes the water ghoul whine and tug harder, another tear slipping from the other eye and dancing its way down into the space where his lips wrap around Swiss. It disappears. 

Rain tugs at his purple head with a limp wrist, a sob bubbling up from his chest when Swiss demands him to cum again. 

He’s too weak to disobey. He pulls at himself once, twice, a third time, and then somehow he manages to do it. 

Though the volume he offers him is entirely unacceptable. 

Swiss shakes his head and pulls roughly on his horn, forcing his sticky face as far onto his cock as he can get him, and forcing him to take all of his dick until he really and truly chokes. Rain’s throat rejects him over and over, the tears running hot over his cheeks, and Swiss tries to count how many orgasms have been spilled over his skin in his head before deciding when to pull out. When he finally does, his face gets shoved immediately back into Swiss’ tummy. 

Rain reacts like the man is his savior, wrapping his arms around one of his thighs and jerking his hips forward to press Swiss’ shin right up against his twitching, spent excuse for a dick. It’s only then with his slimmer body pressed so close that Swiss realizes that Rain is shaking as he clutches him. He digs his sharp claws into the strong meat of his thighs, palms slick and sticky with the sweat that's accumulated there, and Swiss rubs the back of his head gently as he mouths wordlessly at his tummy. 

“Calm yourself,” he says and the water ghoul mumbles incoherently. Sounds, not words. “The worst is yet to come. I need you with me. I’m gonna fuck your face and you’re gonna take it like the good boy that you are. You’re gonna take all of it and you’re not gonna complain because there’s nothing left behind those eyes, is there?” Rain tilts his hips upwards – a poor attempt to hump his leg – and Swiss grabs a fistful of his cum-stained locks and forces the back of his head downwards so he’ll look up at him. “And when I’m done I’m gonna paint this pretty face, get it all filthy, and I’m gonna take a picture. Later I’ll let you look at it so you can see how much of a stupid whore you are. All dumb on my dick and covered in your own cum. Covered in mine…” 

A broken moan tears from Rain’s throat and he goes limp at the proposition, held up only by the bruising grip to his hair. 

Swiss flicks his eyes over his face, taking in the deep blush and the irritation on his cheeks from his own hands, and the emptiness in his eyes, reduced to rich, chocolatey orbs. His mouth, slick with a mixture of spit and pre, beckons him in. 

“You seem ready enough.” 

Swiss bends slightly at the knees to account for how much the ghoul has slackened and slides the head of his dick over his lips just to add to the mess. Then he tells the other to sit up, grabbing him securely by the sides of his face and tilting his head up slightly to get the perfect angle and to watch the moment that his pretty face takes him. 

Just as he said he would, he fucks his face. He thrusts into his mouth in hard and quick movements, harsh snaps of his hips that will bruise his throat and make him choke long after he’s pulled out. His balls slap against his chin and Rain makes the most obscene noises. So wet, so loud, so nasty, and each one settles deep in Swiss’ belly, stoking the fire and building up the flames that make up his impending, final orgasm. 

He has to make this one good. This is the money shot, and he’s spit more cum on the poor ghoul tonight alone to never make him think about cumming again. To be honest, he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he cums dry. 

Rain’s hands grab and grip and grope at Swiss’ thighs as he reaches for the camera and turns the machine on with a quiet push of a button. He kneads at the skin and digs into the soft skin at his inner thighs with his claws. It’s like he’s trying to get inside. He’s desperate, greedy for more despite how Swiss is taking everything he wants from him and more. 

Swiss angles the viewfinder downwards and looks through the small hole. Rain’s image is reflected back at him through the slightly distorted lens. He whines again, as if asking for him to take it. 

Such an impatient little thing. 

Swiss punches his hips forward and hovers his finger over the button. 

“Satanas, look at you. Is my cock shoved down your throat not enough? So fucked stupid that you managed to convince yourself that you need more?”  

Rain hums around him, rutting against his calf like a drunk ghoul in rut. It’s the best Swiss will get for an answer, so he grants him his desires and shoves his dick so far down his throat that even Dew would be proud of him for taking it so deep. Rain’s eyes roll back in his head, finally pleased, and Swiss feels his balls tighten up all at once at the sight and feeling of it all. 

He pulls out of that warm, wet hole so quick that Rain doesn’t have the chance to chase him before he’s tugging at himself with quick pulls and cumming over Rain’s face in thick ropes. The camera in his hand gets clutched tight to his chest, image shaky and unfocused as his other arm adeptly works himself over the edge. 

The first rope lands in his eyebrow and glues together his lashes, following the crooked line of his nose down to his upper lip and painting the ghoul’s teeth in brilliant, pearlescent white. His spend drips from one of his shiny fangs like forbidden icing. The second follows its tail and lands right over his tongue and chin, down over his neck and kissing the edges of his gills. Whatever else he manages to give him paints him so nicely, so filthy, but Swiss can barely stay upright on his feet, too consumed in the pleasure of an orgasm he lost count of and the terrible, terrible sob that Rain cries out as his spent cock cums completely dry – not a single drop for evidence except for the terrible sobs and spasms that wrack through his exhausted frame. 

At least there’s enough semen covering his thighs, face, and chest to make up for it. 

“Look up at me, Rainy,” Swiss pants, still attempting to catch his breath and calm the incessant pounding of his heart in his ribs. He brings the camera back up to his face, smearing the plastic frame with the little amount of his own spend stuck to his fingers. “Show the camera what you earned.” 

Rain tends to not be the best listener. He’s usually a brat in the bedroom who loves to be spoiled and always has to be the center of attention. Following rules and being compliant isn’t really his thing. Tonight, though, is different. The sound of Swiss’ voice in his ears sounds like a song and the filthy mess that covers him from head to toe makes him feel like he’s a work of art, something to display on the wall, so when Swiss points the lens down in his direction and tells him to open up, he does. He listens. 

The water ghoul straightens up and shows off his chest, all messy, covered in cum and sweat and flush, his swollen nipples connected with a chain that doesn't belong to him, and spreads his knees, exposing the sticky puddle of slick beneath his hips. His face needs no further explanation – the mental image of pure debauchery will haunt the multi ghoul in his deepest dreams until the day he’s sent back to the pit. 

He flutters his lashes – the ones not covered in semen – and opens his mouth, letting his tongue extend far past his lips to drip a foul combination of cum and spit onto the floorboards below. 

Fully submissive. Thoroughly fucked out. He’s gorgeous. 

“Fucking shit, Rainy,” Swiss breathes through gritted teeth, his body reacting violently to the sight of him. “Such a good boy-” He carefully tucks a curl behind Rain’s ear. The water ghoul purrs, rumbling deep in his chest at the gesture. “-That is what good boys receive. You deserve all of it and more.” 

He feels it, the power of his honeyed words – his chest blooming with warmth. 

He’s a good boy. Swiss’ good boy. It’s all he’s ever wanted. 

The smallest smile creeps across Rain’s lips, his cheeks dimpling. 

Swiss captures it all with a flash.

[jasondeansgothwife]

lawlight fic rec list

so i’m gonna do a series of these, starting with my favorite death note ship! make sure to pay attention to all warnings on these fics. enjoy! if you have a ship you’d like me to make a rec list for, please just send me an ask! i don’t want to be obnoxious, and i’m not saying they’re good, but i (slackjawbitch on ao3) have some lawlight fics up!

♡ = a favorite of kitty’s

angst

♡ 1. i’m drowning; please save me: L looks at Yagami Light and drowns. There is no other way to put it. As the days pass and blend into weeks, L looks at Yagami Light sitting next to him, the harsh lines of his face creased and determined, and he swallows water.

L looks at Yagami Light and he cannot breathe.

great characterization, always makes me very emo, and is probably a pretty major influence on my writing. one shot. 1,817 words.

2. always waiting for you just to cut to the bone: And then, breaking through the pounding in his head he hears what would be the last words out of that wretched man’s lips.

“I love you.”

fic for teh death note drama (2016) canon! title is unfortunately from a t*ylor sw*ft song (/silly) but this fic is so good and sad.

3. Our Bodies, Possessed By Light: L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

modeling and photography au. make sure to read all teh tags and warnings for this one; there’s nothing gross, but some potentially triggering subjects for some people are in here. multi chapter. 81,218 words.

4. Hearts and Spades: Which would you choose? Love or death? RaitoL, slight AU.

short but sweet piece featuring that classic fanfiction dot net era vibe, an emo-ass playing card metaphor (/pos), and a recounting of l’s death scene that made me sad over him all over again (also /pos). and also light being obnoxious, but it’s death note, so that’s usually a given, lol. one shot. 1,801 words.

5. Not Quite Drowning: Sometimes Light ponders happiness. L/Light

a short lawlight and light character study. i like it a lot, and i don’t usually like light, so that should tell you something about how well i think it’s written! one shot. 424 words.

♡ 6. Water, water, water: In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.

At least, it’s how Light sees it.

i really love this one! make sure to read teh tags, as eating disorders and drugs are mentioned, for example. angst with a happy ending! one shot. 3,504 words.

fluff

1. Silver Bells: Silver bells...silver bells...

They’ve made it. Everything is okay now, when they’re dancing in the candlelight.

really, really cute! i recommend it as a palate cleanser to make you feel better after reading a sad one, lol. one shot. 1,255 words.

♡ 2. New Year’s Eve: "I've seen fireworks before," he says. "This is... so much... more."

just a cute little new year’s eve lawlight fireworks show! this one is also from 2009 which is kinda cool to me, haha. i like this author’s descriptive language a lot. one shot. 507 words.

♡ 3. Do Gay Penguins Go to Hell?: Too many New Year snacks bring about a family discussion between L, Raito and their daughter about healthy diet, common sayings and nature of good and evil. And gay penguins, of course. AU

a really darling kid fic, based on teh stupid, homophobic controversy over that adorable kids’ book about teh gay penguin couple. one shot. 3,791 words.

4. A Feeling: It's LxLight fluff! This takes place after Light was confined and lost his memories, chained to L. : D SO YUS. SOME FLUFF FOR YAH D: Hope you leik it :D

very cute “l and light cuddle and kiss” fic, written by a scene kid in 2008, which is extra points with me! one shot. 1,006 words.

alright! i will add to this rec list as i find more fics, and i would love it if people would send in their favorite lawlight fics!

[juststoriesintheend]

I. Crossroads

Series Pairing: eventual Master Sol x Reader

Chapter Content: force visions, implied stalking

i suggest looking over the full list of content warnings on the masterlist page as this fic contains some darker themes

《 [series masterlist] 》

The Ushruu City Spaceport is less crowded than Helios would have anticipated, being that it serves as the main travel hub for the entire planet and the nearby hyperspace lanes. He would have liked to have a bit more cover, but there is only so much he can plan for. As it stands, he fits in better than on any other planet he’s visited recently - the population seems to be mostly human scattered with a handful of insectoid Surronians and pachydermic Aki-Aki.

He glides between disembarking passengers, his hood pulled up over his head. There is a thread that runs through this planet to the heart of him, damp and trembling like morning dew on a spider’s web. It hums when he plucks at it, sending out ripples in the Force that sound like a child’s nightmare or an adult’s scream - it’s the purest concentration of fear he’s ever felt. The Enchantress’ temple. He’s sure of it.

Encouraged, Helios cleaves through the crowd with renewed fervor and comes stumbling out of the spaceport into the multi-layered suburbia of the city. Sprawled across the valley floor are countless rows of stone and wood buildings, damp with the lingering remnants of the last monsoon. There’s enough light left from the waning twilight that Helios can make out a trail of lights leading from the city to the outskirts, somewhere in the foothills and encroaching slopes of the surrounding mountains and their impenetrable forests. When he focuses again, he’s rewarded with a subtle confirmation through the Force.

Fear is a powerful tool. He’s learned it well these past years, learned to accept its fury and its righteousness, learned how to stand strong against its current when it batters him against the short of his heart, and he knows now how to use it, to bend it to his will. So, when he pulls at that string again, he chases its responding cry and lets the sound drip down his spine to pool in his gut. But the string, he finds, doesn’t lead him to the chasm that sits at the edge of the valley, carved by water and the steady passing of time. It leads him to an apartment crowded beneath the canopy of a great tree.

Helios frowns. This is… not the temple of the Enchantress. He surveys the line of parked speeders and the clothesline strung from a branch to a window on the second floor, then the thinning streaks of paint on the front door - wood, oddly enough - and he wonders if he has finally lost himself to old age and idiocy. But no, no he hasn’t. Up on the second floor, behind the window, he feels a ripple in the Force, a cry that comes from within the mind rather than the mouth.

Sparing only a moment to ensure no one is around to watch, he closes his eyes and simply feels, his arm outstretched, his fingers curling around empty air. The Force shows him what he cannot see, it speaks to him in the voice he’s been hearing, the voice crying for mercy from a dream that cannot be eluded. A figure lies behind the window, curled up on a threadbare mattress and trembling in a thick fog of fear.

This is the string he had pulled, the dampness of your sweat slicking the web of fate as you fell further and further into your own despair. Helios marvels at the strength of it. No living Jedi or Sith should be capable of this much strength and vibrancy in the Force, not enough to entirely derail his focus and eclipse the signature of a vergence, but it might be possible if you were drawing upon the vergence. He knows first hand the sort of magic that can manifest itself in the wake of a vergence, intentionally or not.

The wooden door gives way easily to his persuasion, and the security chain on the inside hangs loose when he enters the apartment. A holoscreen on the far wall is playing something that looks vaguely Mandalorian and a figure sleeps on the sofa below, bathed in its light, but it isn’t you. He takes the stairs two at a time and steps into your room with hardly a sound beyond the gentle whisper of his cloak, and is rewarded with the image of you in your bed, your mouth and brows deeply furrowed as you twitch through your dreams.

A cursory glance is all he needs to view them. Terror and confusion go hand in hand here, elevated above a cascading wall of water that means to drown you. Helios hears a voice in the water, too distorted to fully discern but the pity reads loud and clear, accompanied by flashes of people and places that he can only assume are your own memories. It’s too much, too loud, too suffocating, and he stumbles out of your mind with enough force to drop himself to one knee.

It feels like twenty years pass in the recesses of his mind, twenty years of cycling through that awful day, the day that everything changed. He sees a mother’s face and her daughter’s eyes, and he very nearly suffocates under the weight of it, but he comes to in the end, breathless and crying and so very weak, but planted firmly in reality once more. Helios blinks. Then he blinks again.

You’re incredibly strong. Vergence or not, your sensitivity to the Force is enough to trigger his own memories. He studies you, letting his breath come back to him as he picks you apart like a puzzle he doesn’t have the capacity to solve. The Jedi should have found you as a child, yet you remain on Ushruu, unmapped and unknown like the very vergence he came here to find, and something deep inside him thrills at that realization.

Nearly twenty years worth of forgotten dreams flood his senses in a single instant. Things he thought he’d grown beyond, things he thought no longer served him, they call to him now in the light of your strength. The Force brought him here. It had to have done that for a reason. And suddenly, the pieces of his life tainted and marred by impulsivity and a broken desire for something more, they all come screaming into place.

Stumbling back onto two legs with all the grace of a drunken Devaronian, Helios understands now what he must do. He tries to sort out the fractured images of your soul that you branded upon him as he casts his eyes about your room, cataloging each printed holopic, streak of paint, and paper book he sees. He wants to make a map of you and connect the points between your bleeding heart and Force-fueled terror, and he hopes - more than anything - that he’ll find himself caught at one of your many crossroads.

The shop is quiet when you enter. The market outside continues to squabble and barter, of course, but here it feels faint and far away. The familiar scent of incense and freshly carved bark hits your nostrils as you drop down from one step to the next, steadily lowering yourself further into the heart of the room.

“Morning, Dada.”

The Aki-Aki glances up at the sound of her name, but quickly drops her head back to her work. “You’re annoyingly chipper. What’s wrong with you?”

“Saw your beautiful face and all my problems melted away.”

This time, when she looks up, her eyes stay fixed on you. “Don’t try your charm on me today, kijana.” She wags her wrench in your direction, thoroughly unimpressed. “You’re late again.”

A glance at the wall chrono confirms as much. It’s embarrassing, honestly, but explaining why will just make you sound even crazier than Dada already thinks you are. “I know,” you groan as you squeeze behind the counter. “I’m sorry. I’ll be early tomorrow, I promise.”

The datacenter beeps when it scans your comm, and its intercom clicks, stalls, then reboots before finally processing. “Daily shift: started. You are twelve minutes late.”

“Yeah, thanks, I know.”

Dada just shakes her head. She’s a kriffing saint for putting up with you for so long, but you’re not planning to ask her why she does just in case she changes her mind and fires you. “Deliveries are on the back step. You’ll have to stop by the old fishery.”

You’ve already meandered into the back room by then, but the mention of your destination already has you curling your lip. Just thinking about that place sends shivers up and down your spine, let alone actually having to go inside… There’s nothing you can do about it now except grin and bear it.

The screen door whines when you swing it open, which mercifully covers your frustrated mumbling. “Or you could just not sell to that old kook and then I wouldn’t have to go there, but that’s a silly idea, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t hear you, which is for the best, really. Dada needs the money as much as you do; she’ll sell to anyone with credits, doesn’t matter who, where, or what they are. It’s not her fault that place makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die.

Your speeder’s packed up several minutes later, the little hoverbox attached to the back filled almost to the point of overflow as it always is at the first of the month. A nicely patterned kerchief strapped in place over the top gives you enough confidence that nothing will be falling out along the way, and, with a final farewell and a promise to be back before sundown, you’re off.

It’s just late enough in the morning that most merchants have already opened their shops and formed their own tiny flocks of customers, but the crowd thins out the further you travel from Dada’s apothecary. When you come to the trickling edges of the city about an hour later, there’s hardly anyone around. It’s just you, the trees, and the fishery that waits for you at the end of a little dirt path, beaten down by the weight and wear of time and footsteps too numerous to count.

It’s just your imagination. That’s what you tell yourself every time you come here. The horrible, inky darkness that consumes your heart when you deliver old Brijul’s medicine, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, summoning demons where there are none. The images that swirl behind your eyes, always bloody and violent and so, so dark, they’re nothing but the result of an overactive imagination, unchecked anxiety, and the generations worth of stories passed down from mother to child.

So why does your skin still crawl when the fishery comes rolling into view? Why do you look over your shoulder, terrified you’ll find something wicked and dark breathing down your neck? Why do you feel like you’re drowning every time you pass under its shadow?

Brijul’s a sweet old man. His hearing went long ago and so did the majority of his teeth, but he always greets you with a smile and an extra credit for your troubles. You tell him you hope he feels better soon, and he gestures his thanks, and then you speed out of there like the darkest depths of hell itself are biting at your heels, but the fishery and its shadowy, spindled fingers dig into your mind long after you’ve gone.

You pull over into the nearest unfenced yard and clamber off your speeder gracelessly, palms digging into your eyes as if you could claw yourself free of the voices, the watery deep, the faces of men long dead that rise each night to haunt you. You’re distantly aware of your knees hitting earth and the brush of grass on your face, but the sensations are muted in comparison with the visions, these hallucinations you’ve been cursed to endure. Over and over again, you see things you wouldn’t wish on any other soul - fire-streaked eyes that glow unnaturally in the dark, a faceless man with a blade of white-hot fire in his hands, the cold abyss that lies at the bottom of the river, calling you by name.

Make it stop, make it stop, please!

Something touches you and you scream, and the darkness fills your vision before suddenly flashing white. Your body catapults forward. There’s nothing for a very long moment, just the pounding of your pulse and the rush of blood in your ears, and the vaguely shaped idea of a world around you, bits of blue and a cacophony of green. And brown. Not the reddish-brown of the earth, but the coco-colored warmth of a hearth in the winter, streaked with soot. You blink, and then you realize it’s not a hearth at all, but a man.

“Are you alright?”

The streak of brown you’d seen a moment ago is his cloak. It looks far too big on him, like the billowing sleeves and large hood were made for someone of a greater stature. The soot marking his frame are his eyes and the shoulder-length bit of hair, dark as charcoal. How had you managed to confuse yourself so badly on the basics of the human form? The world spins around you as the man helps you to your feet, and you find yourself blanching in horror at just how lost you feel. It’s never been this bad before, not in your waking hours.

The man gently clasps your shoulder, and the pressure from his fingertips jolts you back into reality. He repeats the question, slower and with a lower intonation, as his eyes survey you.

“I-I’m fine. I’m fine, thank you.” You politely wave away his concerned expression. “I’m sorry. Was this, um, your yard that I crashed into? I can pay you back if I damaged anything.”

It’s not much of a crash seeing as your speeder’s still hovering in place exactly where it ought to be, but what else can you call it? A ‘day-terror induced panic attack’?

“Just passing by,” the man says after a minute. His hand is still settled on your shoulder. “Are you hurt? You screamed when I touched you.”

This is awful. It’s agonizing, feeling so exposed and awkward in front of a total stranger because of some stupid anxiety attack that you can’t even control. Your discomfort manifests first as a grimace, then morphs into something smile adjacent. “No, I’m okay. I think something might’ve stung me, that’s all.” And it’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.

The man narrows his eyes, not exactly suspiciously, but he’s clearly unfazed and unimpressed by your lie. He looks like he wants to say something, and you’re about to pry yourself out of his hands and book it, when a shout comes from across the yard. It’s the woman who lives here.

“Are ya alright?” she shouts from the stoop. “Ya took quite a tumble!”

Bless this woman, she’s kind and she’s the perfect distraction to tear yourself out of this stranger’s grasp. “Just fine, ma’am, thank you! I’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.” To the stranger you offer a nod of thanks. “I appreciate your help, sir, but I have to get back to work. Have a nice day, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything else, but his eyes linger. You feel them on your back until the road bends and takes you out of sight.

Discontent pools in your belly. This is turning out to be one of the worst days you’ve had in years.

taglist: @wolffegirlsunite @thatlittlered @evyiione @padawancat97

[somecunttookmyurl]

since @vaspider ordered several Gay Items from me (thanks spider!) i decided to post all of them properly here for you. if you wanna buy anything just message me and we'll get it sorted!

OCTOPRIDES £6 EACH i can make these lil bitches in any flag colours. they are adorable. they are friend.

putting the rest under a cut to save your dash but the octoprides are frankly too cute to be in dash jail

resin multi layer storage tower (it weighs 900g!) £40 wooden storage box with 'stained glass' effect £10

i can make more storage towers in the flag of your choice. i cannot make any more square wooden boxes as sadly the base boxes have been discontinued (i do have round ones though)

bird earrings £8 / bird pin badge £6. these are wood base, painted, and then coated in UV resin. can be made in any flag since i'm. you know. painting them myself however bird supplies are limited (craft shop stop discontinuing my supplies challenge)

'sippers' gay cocktail earrings £7. i can also make these in any flag colours

'forbidden snack' gummy bear pride flag charm £3 yup, you guessed it, i can make any flag colours

large perler paint drip heart (as keychain or badge) £5 yeah so again with the customisable colours thing on all perler hearts. with a resin coating so they don't break apart. medium perler paint drip heart (as chain pendant or leather cord) £3 itty bitty perler paint drip heart - £2 as charm, £3 for earring pair

'somewhere over the rainbow' earrings £6. 5 pairs total available for now queer crystals magnets £5. ony one of each design limited edition etc these random badges £5. there are two 'crystal queer'. one each of the others

wooden badges £2 each, only one of each design wooden heart flag badges £2 each but i can make those in any flag small pride potion £3 (2 for £5) / large potion £6 (2 for £10) available in any flag

UV reactive rainbow rings £4 one each in sizes 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, and 12 (@sinothetimes has the size 9 one)

beaded bracelets £3 each 2 for £5 these are all random thrown together as i go. vaguely in flag colours. one of each design pictured.

[aiwokure]

Day 1 - Baking

Nico Robin x F!Reader, F!Reader & Sanji

Desc: [y/n] attempts to bake a “Sorry for trying to kill you cake” for Robin with the help of resident Loverboy Sanji - shenanigans ensue.

WC: 1.4k

CW: Possibly OOC Sanji, Attempts at Humor, Sanji is very passionate about his job, slight Perv!Sanji

continuation of this - [click here]

banner by @/cafekitsune

This is so stupid… [y/n] sighs after checking for the umpteenth time that Robin and Nami were asleep before leaving the room and heading to the kitchen. The hallways were dimly lit and the ship rocked gently with the waves, as if to soothe her racing thoughts. When she arrived at the galley, the (now retired) mercenary couldn’t help but to raise an eyebrow at the excessive amount of locks on the fridge and pantry. “Well, so much for that I guess.” [y/n] mumbles to herself, preparing to exit.

The (h/c) woman didn’t even turn around fully before Sanji bursts into the kitchen. His leg was raised with smoke coming off the bottom of his shoes, eyes promising death. “I told you that if I catch you in here again I’d-!” A moment of silence was shared between the two, [y/n]’s was bewildered confusion, and Sanji’s was utter humiliation. Red slowly crept up his neck all the way to his hairline as he quickly put his leg down and motioned towards her.

Every step the blond took forward, [y/n] took two back. “Is threatening medical patients a common thing here or did I miss some memo?” Sanji tugs on the roots of his hair in distress, a garbled noise sneaking past his throat. Upon realizing how foolish he looked from physically displaying his mental state, the chef straightens himself out by fixing his hair and clearing his throat. He then, in a much more composed tone, responds.

“My sincerest apologies m’lady, there’s been a certain pest,” Sanji’s ire was clear as day, his jaw slightly clenched at the mere memory of Luffy attempting to squeeze past the chains, “that loves to pillage through the pantry at night.” [y/n] hums, mildly intrigued but not enough to ask for more details. “How fortunate for you that I’m no pirate then, hm? I do need these unlocked though.” She nods to the locked pantry and fridge.

“Oh! If you’re hungry I can whip you up something, anything that you want! I can’t allow such a beautiful woman like yourself to do labor. Even more so with your injuries.” Sanji moves swiftly, beginning hygienic preparations so he can cook. [y/n] flusters faintly at his eagerness, but even more so at telling him her true intentions.

It was already strange having the crew be so accommodating and kind to her despite her attempt on Robin’s life.

“No, uh, I’m not hungry, thank you.” The blond stills, turning in disarray. There was a secondary moment of silence, [y/n] growing more awkward at watching Sanji try to figure out why she was in the galley. “So...is there anything that I can help you with?” Fiddling with the edge of the counter, [y/n] finally confesses. “I, um, wanted to bake a cake. For Robin. An apology cake for the whole ‘gonna kill you’ thing.”

Sanji’s expression grows comically serious, a hand on his chin as he nods in understanding. “Fear not, [y/n]-san, I’ll be your culinary knight and create a cake that not only apologizes but also conveys the feelings of your heart!” He gestures with flourish, spinning around the kitchen with such fervor while unlocking the chains. “How...lovely.” [y/n] began to regret her decision once she saw smokey hearts floating around the kitchen.

“Have you thought of the design? Maybe something floral? How about multi-tiered? Maybe it should be blue like her eyes.” The more the blond swooned, the more agitated [y/n] felt herself get. "Let's keep it simple, chef. A classic round cake with a neat frosting layer. Nothing too flashy; just a straightforward apology cake."

Sanji hummed with consideration, “Sorry, I’d nearly forgotten it was for that. Keeping it simple. As for you, mon cher, take a seat and watch the magic happen. I work better with a lady audience.” He ushers the [h/c] woman out of the cooking area, much to her displeasure. [y/n] tried to vocalize as such until Sanji – as kindly as possible – reminded her of her injury and how “baking takes a lot of wrist work” along with other excuses.

Watching the chef work efficiently and silently turned out to be quite soothing for the ex-mercenary. His little songs that he would hum and the various shapes his smoke would make was entertaining enough to keep [y/n]’s mind off of Robin’s potential reaction to the cake. “So, you knew Robin when you guys were younger huh? What was that like?” Sanji tentatively breaks the silence after placing the cake in the oven.

He offers the batter bowl as payment for [y/n]’s thoughts, which she took. “I don’t remember all the finer details, but she was definitely a little brat. And she wasn’t nearly as good at disguising herself as she is now – which honestly still isn’t that much better. We explored a lot, experienced lots of different cultures. When we were together, I felt like there wasn’t anything that we couldn’t do. I guess that’s why I was so angry at what she did. And to see that she had moved on only infuriated me more.” “It was as if she didn’t trust me to keep her safe, despite everything that I’ve done…” [y/n] thinks back briefly on the bounty hunter and other unfortunate victims that she came across during her journey with Robin. “Sorry if you were expecting a lighthearted story, but ours ended far from sweet.” Sanji shrugs a shoulder in a carefree manner. “We all have are stories, I understand. Hows the batter?” [y/n] gives a small smirk which gets the blond’s heart racing. “Delicious. This will definitely, what did you say again, ‘convey the feelings of your heart’?”

The chef grows further enamored, having been blessed with seeing parts of [y/n]’s personality sneak out. “I’m, uh, gonna go check on the cake. I-It’s probably done by now!” Legs growing weak at the sight of fluttery [e/c] eyes, and nose tingling with the threat of blood, Sanji wills himself to keep it under control.

(In the very deep crevice of his mind, he couldn’t help but to imagine what it would be like to be sandwiched between both Robin and [y/n]. A perv is a perv after all.)

The following morning [y/n] was so fidgety even Luffy can sense it. She couldn’t figure out how to present the cake. Or how to bring up the apology at all, honestly. Robin had seemed so content with just being in her space again that she hesitates to bring up something so heavy. But Sanji keep looking at the [h/c] woman expectantly, brow raised in curiosity.

Chopper became concerned, convinced that [y/n] was still in discomfort from her injuries and was trying to play nonchalant. He offered pain medication, which she refused, to which he responded by placing her on bed rest. Robin chuckled faintly at the exchange, averting her gaze from the scathing [e/c] glare. Dammit, if I’m stuck in bed all day, I’ll never be able to give her the cake… “Doctor, I feel fine, I was just a little in my head about something.” [y/n] attempted to bargain with the reindeer, who briefly stopped to hear her out.

“About what?” “About this!” Sanji exits the kitchen dramatically, cake in hand as he spins around towards the table Robin is sitting at. “For you, mademoiselle.” He gently places the cake down before her with a professional bow. “Hm? ‘Sorry I tried to kill you, that was very immature of me. - [y/n]’ It even has a little drawing, how cute.” Robin’s blue eyes were glowing with amusement, watching her old friend screech in horror.

“I wasn’t ready you damn chef! And why in hell’s name is there a drawing?! I thought we agreed on simple!” Sanji tuts in disapproval, "Ah, [y/n]-san, a simple cake may convey the message, but a grand cake will etch it into her heart forever. I didn’t just make a cake; I crafted a masterpiece that reflected the depth of your feelings." The ex-mercenary could feel the heat rolling off of her face in waves, her jaw was clenched so tight they nearly creaked from the pressure.

Robin coos at [y/n]’s extremely obvious embarrassment, a teasing smile on her lips. “You didn’t have to do all of this, but I do appreciate the gesture, even if it came at your own detriment.” [y/n] eyes the archaeologist hesitantly, as if she doubted Robin’s words. Surely life endangerment isn’t something that should be forgiven so easily, correct? Surely she should have done more than ask for a damn cake to be made, something like swearing to servitude for the rest of her life.

I guess that shows how much she really does like me, huh? Idiot... [y/n] nearly choked on her spit at the realization, a hand shooting up to cover her face which blatantly advertised her thoughts. Steam puffed off the top of her head in the shape of the same foolish hearts that Sanji made the night prior. “I-I’m glad.”

[warsofasoiaf]

When an army's sacking a big city and doesn't intend to stay there any longer than it takes to unseat the rulers, how many layers of command are there? How complex are the soldiers' orders? About how many people could be giving those orders?

Depends on the sophistication and professionalization of the attacking enemy forces. A medieval kingdom might only have a king who is sieging the city personally, or delegating authority to a senior vassal, knight, mercenary commander, or viceroy taking charge in his absence. A professional and modern nation-state, however, might have a civilian commander-in-chief, who delegates authority to a military chief of staff, who in turn delegates authority to a service chief, who in turn delegates to a theater commander, who in turn delegates to a field grade officer, who in turn delegates to the actual unit that is charged with taking the city.

Then you go even further. How sophisticated is their junior officer corps, and their NCO corps? How large is the city, and what is the size of the attacking force that needs to conquer this city? Do you need a modern battalion-sized requirement to conquer the city, or can you make do with a regiment? In a medieval setting, is there a single senior knight that has subinfeudated vassals, a major lord like a duke? Is this a multi-national coalition force ala the Crusades or a more modern coalition operation?

And of course, then you have to factor in the very real question of who is in charge after. Do you have a local collaborator? A claimant that sought foreign aid to press their claim? A claimant at the head of a mercenary organization? It gets so complicated that it's better to factor not only technological and organizational concerns, but also local political concerns of legitimacy that a single rule-of-thumb simply cannot service the wide range of consideration that need to be examined.

So in the end, this is a question that benefits from a greater sense of clarification from the opposing army. What is the technological and bureaucratic sophistication from this particular army? Does this nation have a modern notion of the idea of a civilian head-of-state that outranks even the highest generals as a means of subordinating military power under the nation-state?

So the question really becomes "how many troops do you need to take this city?" Once you find that out, then you can answer "what is the grade of officer that would command such a force?" which then becomes "how long is the chain of command?" It's a solid question, but it is one that varies immensely given the times and the sophistication of the military forces that would be in charge.

Thanks for the question, Maker. Good to see you're still around.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King.

[enchantress6]

Gothic Enchantress Outfit Set. Black Lace and Leather Corset: A striking corset with lace overlay and leather accents, perfect for a bold gothic look.

Off-Shoulder Ruffled Top with Corset Lacing: A romantic, off-shoulder top with ruffled sleeves and corset details.

Black Maxi Skirt with Red Lace Insert: A dramatic skirt featuring a red lace slit, adding flair and mystery.

Ruffled Layered Gothic Skirt: A high-waisted, ruffled skirt with side lacing for a voluminous gothic style.

Choker with Rose Pendant: A black choker with a red rose pendant, adding a dark romantic touch.

Gothic Statement Necklace: A bold, multi-layered necklace with amber and black stones for a dramatic effect.

Platform Boots with Chain and Buckle Details: Edgy platform boots with chains, buckles, and red accents for a gothic finish.

https://www.instagram.com/enchantress_.6?igsh=MW9ha2luNnFjamRvaw%3D%3D&utm_source=qr

[olaqueenbeeofastrology]

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Get the 👀🍀

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[narutocharacterpolls]

SEMIFINALS

GAARA vs SENJU TSUNADE

Reasons for submission under the cut

Gaara

he overcame his incredible loneliness and childhood trauma with a lot of grace

he acknowledged the people he may have hurt (rock Lee) and did everything in his power to build up from there

he was always very caring (like when he brought the girl he accidentally hurt an apology gift when he was a child)

he was someone who understood Sasuke and shed tears for him

he motivated an entire army of shinobi that were fighting amongst each other, and he did it purely with love for Naruto, showing how powerful his kindness is

serial killer turned babushka. Quite possibly the sweetest and funniest character transformation [submitter]'s ever seen

he enjoys succulent and cactus gardening, based as always

his gardening outfit is the cutest shit ever seen

he has cat eyes which are very cute

nothing but respect for my goth teenaged president 🫡

he's so polite,,

his character development is amazing, he went from being a crazy murderer, to gaining the trust of his whole village and becoming the Kazekage

despite how drastic his character development was, it still feels understandable due to how badly he was treated as a child, and how deep down he always wanted to love but was simply punished for it

eeeing him recover from his trauma thanks to Naruto is really heartwarming

one of the best redeemed villain characters ever imo

very cool character design

storyline that made [submitter] cry like a baby three different times

he's so full of love

has a cool transformation

enjoyable demeanor once he got the help he needs

nice to see a quiet but social introvert succeed in life, overcome his trauma, and learn his self worth

he was an edgy 12 year old who talked like shadow from shadow the hedgehog (2005) how can u not like that

he's funny

he's pretty cool when he's older, a good leader

his arc is [submitters] favorite in the series

lovely to see how far he came and how hard he worked to overcome his demons

Tsunade

milf….

was the best hokage

the regulation she created to include medics on every team saved so many lives

she's funny and a complex and interesting character

is a bad bitch

probably THE most competently written female character in the entire series

she has a very rich history that plays into her character's actions and motivations

wanting to be the best medic-nin possible in order to save more lives because she lost her love Dan, and also change the way ninja squads operated to always have a medic to save more lives did so much for the better during the war to reduce casualties

after being broken down by so many people she cares about dying, she dips and leaves behind ninja society, which has taken everything from her (including wiping out her clan)

because Tsunade is also one of the most legendary/strongest ninja alive, no one could really stop her or chain her down. It takes the conviction of a child who wants her to save the village and heal his friends to get her back to Konoha, despite the all the trauma she's endured

she's a medic with a fear of blood that overcomes that to fight her own teammate and beat his ass so Orochimaru stops killing and maiming people

she steps up to be a leader because it's what the new generation need and someone has to fix all the stuff broken by her selfish teammates and old teacher

the strongest female character both in physical strength and the strength of her writing. It's like she was written first as a character versus most of the other female characters being written first as Girl and Love Interest

Tsunade is vain and a chronic gambler and drunk, she is really brash and abrasive, she is traumatized. But she's also deeply caring, an incredibly accomplished woman, one of the smartest people/medics in the world, and a great leader

she's multi-layered. She is a woman, but her entire character isn't just Woman

finally finished the job on Jiraiya on previous poll

strong arms

she is strong and smart and quick as a whip but still soft and caring when it comes to her loved ones. Characters with rough exteriors who are mushy inside are very good