#not tagging with anything. if you see this or not its on god

[miukki960]

I'm gonna make this post before I go in the tag and see ANY God or Diew slander, because for me the conflict this episode not only made sense, but was necessary for their relationship to move forward.

The seed was planted long ago when God first found the picture of Diew and Dr. Asshole, and at first God handled it rationally (as expected of our Green Flag King). But the longer the situation went unresolved, the more doubt and insecurity began to creep in until it all came to a head in this episode, because all God needed was honesty and openness from Diew, but Diew has learned from past conditioning to lock those parts of himself away and only show a surface level of his personality and self.

I found that God's argument with Diew, while definitely escalated by emotion and insecurity, was justified at its core. We've learned throughout this story that God's main love language is Quality Time, and that most often is fulfilled by God genuinely enjoying doing anything and everything with the people he loves, so long as they are having a good time. But his conversation with Dr. Asshole put the idea in his mind that Diew has simply been going with the flow and doing whatever God suggested in order to make him feel good, that he hasn't actually enjoyed their time together. And while we as an audience know that's false, the idea is one of God's worst fears and most devastating nightmares.

But he loves Diew and doesn't want to believe it's true, so he gives him multiple chances to prove him wrong. And when Diew continues to reply with lies and deflection, it unfortunately proves him right. Because while the context is a bit off and there is definitely a misunderstanding at play, at the end of the day Diew isn't being honest and isn't trusting God enough to open up and show him the deeper, more emotional parts of himself. So God comes to the only conclusion he can see, that even if Diew is no longer in love with Dr. Asshole, their love was deeper and more meaningful than what he has with God now.

But don't get me wrong! Even though Diew was choosing the wrong dialog options during his argument with God, he was also justified in choosing to keep his secrets and emotions hidden. What God doesn't know is that Diew HAS opened up before, bared his heart and soul to someone he thought he loved and trusted, and what was he rewarded with? Disinterest, deflection, shame. As someone with major anxieties related to human interaction, you only have to burn him once to teach him to never play with fire again. And Dr. Asshole burned him deeply on multiple occasions.

No amount of kindness and sweetness and love from God was gonna convince him to play with fire again. In fact, it was reaffirming. Much like what we have been seeing with Wan towards Beer, I'm sure Diew sees how good and wonderful God is and is absolutely terrified to fuck it up. But just like Wan, his defense became his biggest downfall.

At the end of the day, rather than focusing on what happened, we should instead focus on why it happened and how the characters are going to grow from it. And we can see that how through the characters actions during the last few minutes of the episode. We see Diew, who's defense is to isolate, actively reaching out to God multiple times in multiple ways, ready to explain and open up and heal. And we see God going through the more nasty, volatile parts of his emotions alone, so he doesn't hurt Diew while he's in the wrong headspace, but also doesn't bottle the bad things to explode later.

I think what gets me the most is that in their very last conversation before the end of the episode, Diew was asking for togetherness and God was asking for space, and they were both upset on many levels, but they were still speaking to each other with love in their tone and words.

[novaursa]

ahhhh so happy to see ur request are back open!! love ur works so much ! can u do something for reader x aemond and its something like they was married and she was madly in love with him but when he meets alys rivers and he decides to accuse his wife of treason and infidelity which leads to her yk being executed. and everyone (otto, aegon, alicent) knows that the claims are false but doesn’t do anything about it <33 ! thank you in advance bookie

The Dagger's Kiss

- Summary: You loved Aemond since you were children, but what he did to Luke was a sin you could not forgive.

- Paring: baratheon!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

The storm rages outside, howling winds rattling the ancient stones of Storm’s End. The great hall feels colder than usual, despite the roaring fire that blazes in the hearth. You stand beside Aemond, his presence a steady force amidst the chaos of the weather outside. His hand rests on the pommel of his sword, his face unreadable as he converses with your father, Lord Borros Baratheon.

The tension between them is visible, a silent battle of wills. Your father’s eyes flicker toward you, his jaw tightening before he finally nods.

“The Stormlands are yours, Aemond,” Borros rumbles, his voice as deep and grating as the waves crashing against the cliffs outside. “But I won’t have my daughter dragged into your family’s war.”

Aemond’s gaze shifts to you, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Y/N is my wife, Lord Borros. Her place is by my side, where she has always wanted to be.”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words. It’s true; you’ve loved Aemond since childhood, your affection blossoming over the years as he grew from a serious, studious boy into the fierce warrior who now stands before you. When he proposed marriage, you thought it was a dream, even knowing it was a political move. But he chose you, and that meant something. It meant everything.

“I can speak for myself, Father,” you interject gently, stepping forward. “I stand with my husband, wherever he goes.”

Borros’s face softens, just a fraction, before his expression hardens once more. “Then may the gods protect you both.”

Before Aemond can respond, the heavy doors of the hall swing open with a crash. A drenched figure stumbles inside, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. Prince Lucerys Velaryon, your cousin Rhaenyra’s son. The sight of him is like a knife to the chest. Your heart lurches, remembering the carefree days you shared with his mother, Rhaenyra—your beloved cousin, your dearest friend.

Lucerys’s wide eyes scan the room, settling on you for a brief, heartbreaking moment before darting to Aemond. “I come with a message from my mother, Queen Rhaenyra,” he announces, his voice trembling. “She asks that you, Lord Borros, honor your oath and remember your duty to her.”

Your father’s brow furrows, a scowl darkening his face. “And what of the promises your mother broke when she sent her sons here without offer of marriage, boy?”

You barely register the words, your gaze fixed on Aemond. His eye narrows, a predatory gleam flickering in its depths. You know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s ready to strike.

“Aemond,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please…”

But he shrugs off your hand gently, his focus unyielding on Lucerys. “I’ll not have bastards and traitors speak to me of oaths.” His voice is calm, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to it that makes your stomach twist. “You owe me an eye, nephew.”

Lucerys’s face pales. “I—I came as a messenger. I don’t want to fight.”

Aemond’s lips curl into a cold smile. “Then you should not have come, Lucerys.”

He turns to leave, and you feel your heart hammering against your ribs. “Aemond, don’t do this!” you plead, but he doesn’t look back. He strides out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.

The door slams shut, and you’re left standing in the echoing silence. You can barely breathe, your hands trembling as you stare after him. You know what he’s going to do. You can see it in his eyes, the same madness that once took hold of your grandfather Aerion Brightflame. The storm rages on outside, the winds screaming like the dragons of old.

“Father, please!” you beg, turning to Lord Borros, but his face is stony.

“He’s your husband now, girl. His choices are his own.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, the world spinning around you, before the doors are thrown open again. Aemond strides back into the hall, his face flushed with victory, his eye glittering with a savage light. He’s soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his skull, but he looks more alive than you’ve ever seen him.

“It’s done,” he announces, his voice ringing through the hall. “Prince Lucerys is dead.”

The world tilts beneath you. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head as if denying it could change what’s happened. “Aemond, what have you done?”

He steps closer, reaching for you, but you shrink back, horror clawing at your throat. “He attacked me, Y/N. I had to defend myself.”

You want to believe him, you want to hold on to the image of the boy you loved, the man you married. But the way he speaks, the pride in his voice—it’s not the Aemond you know. This is someone else, someone who has been twisted by hatred and vengeance.

“Rhaenyra… my cousin… Aemond, she will never forgive this,” you say, your voice breaking.

“Let her come,” he snarls, his face contorting with a rage you’ve never seen before. “I’ll deal with her as I dealt with her son.”

You feel the world collapsing around you, everything you’ve known and loved crumbling into ash. This is not what you wanted, not what you dreamed of when you stood beside Aemond, pledging your life to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife,” he says, his voice softening as he steps closer. He reaches out, cupping your face in his cold, wet hands. “You belong to me, as I belong to you. This is the price of loyalty, of love. You understand that, don’t you?”

You stare up at him, searching his face for some trace of the man you loved. But all you see is a stranger, a monster wearing your husband’s skin.

“I… I don’t know,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. “I don’t know if I do anymore.”

Aemond’s face darkens, his grip tightening on your chin. “You will,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “You will, Y/N.”

And in that moment, you realize that you are trapped—trapped by your love, your duty, and the man who stands before you, holding your heart and your fate in his bloodstained hands.

The journey back to King’s Landing is a blur, the days melting into one another as the memory of that night at Storm’s End lingers like a dark cloud. Aemond’s mood grows darker with each passing day, his patience shorter, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. You try to reach him, to understand the turmoil churning beneath his calm facade, but he shuts you out, his focus consumed by some unseen enemy.

When you finally arrive at the Red Keep, it’s as if the entire city holds its breath. Word of Prince Lucerys’s death has spread, and the reactions are mixed. Some cheer for Aemond’s act of vengeance, while others whisper in dark corners about the reckless cruelty of it. You feel like a ghost, drifting through the familiar halls that once felt like home, but now seem haunted by your own guilt and grief.

In the throne room, Aemond stands tall and proud, his chin lifted as he faces his mother, Alicent, and his grandfather, Otto Hightower. They’re all there—Aegon, lounging on the Iron Throne with a smirk playing on his lips, Helaena watching quietly from the shadows, her eyes distant and unfocused. 

“You did well, Aemond,” Otto says, his voice cold and calculating. “This was a necessary step. The Blacks will think twice before challenging our rule.”

Aemond nods, his expression blank. “It had to be done. He was a traitor.”

Alicent steps forward, her face softening as she looks at her son. “You’ve proven your strength, Aemond. But please, be careful. This war… it will tear us all apart.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel a pang of sympathy for her. She’s a mother caught between love for her children and the brutal realities of power. But then Aegon laughs, a harsh, grating sound that grates on your nerves.

“Oh, Mother, don’t worry so much. Aemond did what needed to be done. The boy was a bastard, and now he’s dead. Simple as that.”

You can’t hold back any longer. “He was a child!” you snap, the words bursting out before you can stop them. “Lucerys was just a boy!”

Aemond’s head snaps around, his eye blazing with fury. “Watch your tongue, wife,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. “Do not forget where your loyalties lie.”

Your heart sinks, but you hold your ground, your eyes never leaving his. “My loyalties? I’ve stood by you, Aemond, through everything. But what you did… it wasn’t justice. It was murder.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Alicent’s face pales, and even Otto looks momentarily taken aback. Aegon’s smirk falters, his eyes flicking between you and Aemond with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Aemond’s expression hardens, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You know nothing of justice,” he says coldly. “You’ve lived your life in comfort, protected by your father’s name and your family’s power. You have no idea what it means to fight for something.”

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I fought for you, Aemond. I’ve always fought for you. But I can’t—” Your voice breaks. “I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

You turn and leave the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest. The walls of the Red Keep seem to close in around you as you make your way to the courtyard, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and sorrow. You don’t know where you’re going—just away, anywhere away from this nightmare.

The courtyard is quiet, the stables bustling with activity as the grooms prepare your horse. You’ve made up your mind. You can’t stay here, not with Aemond like this, not with the memory of Lucerys haunting every corner of your thoughts.

“Lady Y/N, your horse is ready,” the stablehand says, his eyes wide with concern as he helps you to the saddle. But before you can mount, a hand grips your arm, yanking you back.

Aemond stands before you, his face a mask of fury. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, his voice shaking with rage.

“I’m leaving, Aemond,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself.”

“Destroy myself?” He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “I’m doing what must be done, Y/N. For our family, for our future. And you would abandon me?”

“I’m not abandoning you!” you cry, your heart breaking at the look in his eye. “I love you, Aemond, but I can’t be a part of this anymore. I can’t watch you become—”

“Become what?” he snarls, his grip tightening painfully on your arm. “What am I becoming, Y/N? Tell me!”

You struggle against his hold, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “Someone I don’t recognize,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Someone I can’t follow.”

His face twists with a fury that is almost madness. “You swore to stand by me, to be my wife, my partner. You promised!”

“I know,” you sob, your voice breaking. “But this isn’t what I wanted, Aemond. This isn’t what I thought—”

Before you can finish, you feel a sharp pain in your chest, a burning, searing agony that steals the breath from your lungs. You look down, your eyes widening in horror as you see the hilt of Aemond’s dagger buried in your chest, his hand still gripping it tightly.

The world seems to slow, everything fading to a muted blur. You look up at him, your lips forming his name, but no sound comes out.

Aemond’s face changes, the fury melting into something else—something like fear, or maybe regret. He pulls the dagger free, and you stumble, the ground rushing up to meet you as you fall.

“No, no, no…” His voice is a broken whisper, his hands trembling as he catches you, cradling you against his chest. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to…”

The pain is overwhelming, a crushing weight that steals the air from your lungs, the light from your eyes. You can barely see him now, his face blurring into darkness as your world begins to slip away.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice choked with grief. “I love you, Y/N. Please, stay with me.”

But it’s too late. The darkness is pulling you under, your body growing cold and heavy in his arms. You try to hold on, to reach out to him, but your strength is gone, your breath slipping away like the tide.

And then there’s nothing but darkness, the world fading to black as you fall into the void, his voice the last thing you hear, echoing in the silence of your dying mind.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thank you for the role you play in this fandom, I don't know what we would do without Aziraphale's fic library

Today I wanted to ask if you knew fics where Aziraphale and Crowley are bitter exes who end up realizing later that they haven't stopped loving the other.

Thank you 💛

Hi! We have #getting back together and #reunion tags you can check for plenty more fics like this. Here are more to add...

Even Now, I Still Love You by Zakani_Donovan (T)

It had been 6 years since Crowley had last spoken to Aziraphale, and considering their nasty little breakup, he hadn't expected their next conversation to start with them suddenly being neighbors.

Down to the River by CemeteryAngel725 (E)

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Crowley walked out of Azi’s life and broke both of their hearts. Since then, Azi has been living in suspended animation, working in the army/navy surplus booth he inherited from his dad and writing horror novels. Now Tony is back from the city, flush with success and wanting to catch up with Azi. Should Azi risk his heart and try to reclaim what they’ve lost? Or is it too late to start over?

Reason Enough by ffonippop (E)

Crowley and Aziraphale’s entire relationship spanned just a little under eleven months. If dissected, the entire affair can be categorized very neatly into three parts: a rocky beginning, a rocky middle, and a rocky end. It devastates Crowley, how something that was so promising and held so much potential could end in such a shitstorm. Diminished to nothing but a hungover, sad, and lonely stain on his couch, Crowley is left to wonder if it was always going to end this way— or if it’s ended yet at all.

Like a Martyr, Not Enough (The Decoy Bride) by vines_and_vellichor (M)

Author Aziraphale Eastlowe had been a dutiful son for the entirety of his life… mostly. After a bout of teenage rebellion, he learnt that disobedience only brings misery and heartbreak to those he cares about; it’s better for everyone to toe the line and make the most out of the plan that has been laid out for you by your family and God. When a courtship with the famous Christian singer Gabriella Archer presented an opportunity to exit the dog-eat-dog world of city life, the last thing he expected was an existence plagued by writer’s block and a wedding so enticing to the British press that the privilege of a private ceremony was tantamount to successfully teaching a duck to play the accordion. In desperation, they turn to Taddesfild, a remote island in the Outer Hebrides, to marry. Things go south when a convoluted plan by Gabriella’s agents culminates in hiring local resident Anthony J Crowley as a decoy bride to put the paparazzi off the scent. The very person Aziraphale distinctly remembered dumping nineteen years ago. The situation is less than ideal: his fiancee is missing, the island is infested with bloodthirsty photographers and he has just accidentally gotten married to his ex.

Borrowed Words by sunrisesinthesuburbs (M)

Anthony J. Crowley, best selling author, has writer's block. He could blame the Accident, but deep down he knows his block started way before. He hasn't written anything in too long, if we choose to ignore the dozens of unsent letters addressed to the angel he lost two decades ago, when he moved to New York City. When his best (and only) friend convinces him to take a little vacation in a small town in Connecticut, he expects peace and quiet. He doesn't expect to see the smile that still haunts his dreams again. Apparently, small towns are full of surprises, and how late is too late? The world stops spinning on its axis or, at the very least, Crowley stops breathing. This is absolutely impossible. He forces himself to swallow, to take a deep breath, as he doesn’t want to scare this girl off. Muriel, who is still smiling, all bright and wide and just like- Oh, God. “A bookshop, you said?” He chokes out. This is impossible, and he’s being ridiculous. He is in London, this is just a sick coincidence and his stupid brain playing stupid games. “Yes, you can see it if you turn around.” Crowley doesn’t move. “It’s called A. Z. Fell Books.” Now, the world definitely stops spinning.

Sinking Ships by AppleSeeds (E)

The world is practically on fire and it feels like nobody's doing anything about it, but Crowley's outlook brightens considerably when a new member arrives at his local climate action committee. Crowley is immediately smitten, and is thrilled when he and Aziraphale become fast friends, although he can't help but hope they might one day become something more. When all of his wishes come true, Crowley starts to feel like life couldn't possibly get any better. He can picture exactly what his future is going to look like, until something happens that feels like a powerful bolt of lightning has struck and split Crowley's life right down the middle, with everything before that moment on one side, and everything that is to come - scorched, lifeless and devastated - on the other. With the help of a counsellor, Crowley begins the difficult journey of picking up the pieces and working through what's happened. When Aziraphale unexpectedly comes back into his life, Crowley finally has the chance to get some answers, revealing that the truth is very different from what he was led to believe. Now he just needs to figure out whether that changes anything.

- Mod D

[holmsister]

Idk about yall but I live in a world in which during the like. Couple weeks? Less probably in which their parties travelled together Kabru managed to get a threesome with Hien and Benichidori AND made out with Toshiro. No more with Toshiro because he's shy u gotta take it slow but definitely at least making out.

[lovesickeros]

☆ from gold, i am undone

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts {☆} word count 0.9k

You weren't meant to be here.

You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.

You are changed, and you are whole.

But you are so unbearably broken.

A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.

Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.

All you see is a monster.

Something new, something old.

A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.

But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.

You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.

But you know it will not satisfy you.

Nothing does anymore.

You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.

And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.

There is nothing left but absolute authority.

You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?

Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.

Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.

You welcome it.

It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.

Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.

You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.

For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?

Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?

Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?

Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.

For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.

[piquuroblox]

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[b4kuch1n]

hahaha wheee haha

[itz-pandora]

Might I offer some Tichaos in this trying time

[sideblogdotjpeg]

i am not immune to launchpad sol and albin thoughts

[soullessjack]

oh my god like. the stark contrast between mob’s inner self — saying that everyone around him held him back, everyone was afraid of him, everyone treated him differently, everyone only saw him as something to use and that he was never accepted by anyone at any point; that he would never be accepted for who he really internally feels he is — vs all of mob’s friends and family repeatedly saying “we aren’t scared of you because we know you and we love you, this is just a part of you that we can live with and accept,”— not to mention reigen fully admitting that he was using mob and apologizing for it, as well as telling mob that the only person who really needs to accept mob is himself..? It’s just. It’s so good man

[demadogs]

gonna say it again, REAL PEOPLE CANNOT BE QUEERBAIT. QUEERBAITING IS A SHITTY WRITING TACTIC FOR FICTION. SOMEONE JUST BEING THEMSELVES IS NOT BAIT FOR ANYONE.

[robotsafari]

i havent even watched legacy yet but that fucking kh world did some.. unexpected things to me

[can-of-slorgs]

Local owlbear, what she gonna explodee✨

[martyrbat]

habeas corpus – detective comics #1086

(ID in alt!)

[imaginaryanon]

ohhh, da fandom, how i've not fucking missed you lmaooo the new game's release is still a month away but already i'm reminded exactly why i became convinced i'd never want anything to do with that franchise again. jesus christ. except this time im 30 and hopefully better at tailoring my online experience to not exhaust me & make me pissed and anxious (even if half of da tumblr is like. already laser-focused on making this a shit experience for everyone who stumbles upon their fuckass posts huh hfgjhjhjd)

anyway i'm listening & learning & blocking even MORE tags & not looking at SHIT until i play the game myself <3 For Real this time. "oh but surely it's just an innocent opinion and not a spoiler or anything--" that is the devil talking. all posts abt veilguard rn are full of shit, on account of The Game Isn't Fucking Out Yet How Are You Guys Already Having Novel-Length Opinions (TM)!!!! anyway i simply don't need that kind of energy in my life

i enjoy these games too much to be chased outta here by deranged drama i'm not even a part of again 😭 get fucked & god unbless