#really have no idea why his save is like that

[xxyanderegurlxx]

Ashryn Viviana "Rook" De Riva

1: She says Treviso truly she doesn't know where she's from originally Viago found her on a contract in Orlais in a secret Labatory ran by a venatori high mage and of course she has no memories of her life before cause ✨trauma✨ and there were no records of her either burnt by the venatori that experiment on her, Manius Servanus

2: Chaotic neutral, she will do anything to if she believes its right and hate stubborn people who won't listen to reason probably why she punch the first warden

3: Elf and Rogue

4: if she didn't get kicked out of the crows, probably Olais working a contract.

5: Sarcasm and humor, that her go to emotion 😂

6: Taash and Davrin. She understands Taash not being able to fit in with being a qunari being raised in Rivain while her mother taught her under the Qun. Ashryn doesn't know if she was Dalish or a city elf or anything, she has no idea where she belongs between the two always feeling like a puzzle piece that got left behind and so Ashryn completley understand what Taash was going through, but they also bond over dragons, Ashryn used all kinds of books about dragons never thinking she would ever meet or fight one. And then with Davrin, he rejected his path of life finding his true calling as a warden Ashryn was in awe with his courage some people just stick to chosen path and never change but he did, and it helped that he had some crazy stories about the monster he hunted.

7: Lucanis, this truly took her one by surprised Ashryn never really had romance in her cards, she was a crow she expected she was going to die before anything like that could happen. Ash had more than heard of Lucanis Dellamorte, she may have had tini tiny crush on him if we even call it that she never met him or even seen him before since she was under a different talon than him but since she had a personal hatred for the Venatori and heard of his exploits of kill all those mages she became a little enamored Teia obvious found out and teased her for days about it but life went on and then she got kicked out of the crows after the incident with the Antaam and completely forgot about "the demon of vyrantium" until Neve brought up recruiting him and its been almost a year since she even thought of about Lucanis Dellamorte and then she gets to Ossuary and meets him the first time and she cured in elvish cause fuck he's hot and then when she startes getting to know him, the fact he gets everyone a gift, his obsession with coffee and the fact he loves wyvern, he became just so adorable and just a person in her eyes

8: Solas, she never trusted him in the beginning, but she started to understand him little by little that as a leader he made a lot of choices that he had to and then the bastard broke that small bit of understanding trust that she had with him when throwing her in the fade prison

9: it was strenuous but after saving it from the blighted dragon, she's in the good books with Crows now.

10: None actually but she does sing, and from she has been told beautifully to and dancing.

11: Twin Blades or her bow.

12: Pansexual

13: She's a literal crow if there's a contract, she does it though she does prefer contracts for the bastards on the world. So she really has no problem with killing.

14: Reading, and drawing she likes drawing her friends at the lighthouse or sights she seen

15: Ashur- She really respects him and his caused and felt guilty for having to choose Treviso, but it was her home, she couldn't abandon it, Evka and Antonine- Those two are just funny and reliable. Vorgoth- She has no idea what he is, but he fascinated her to no end.

16: Dragons for sure, though she loves all animals just not bugs, she hates them with a passion.

17: Yes, she enjoys the sights and the people but after all that has transpired, she thinks she has had enough adventure to last a lifetime and wouldn't mind just going back to being a normal crow though she would miss her friends.

18: Since she would be kicked out the crows, I see her going to Minrathous to meet Neve about tracking down Manius Servanus and to finally figure out her past and where she came from and what the hell did, he does to her.

19: In a fantasy life at old age happy with her friends and family by her side but possibly on a contract it's the life a crow after all

20: She fights him of course this world may not be perfect but still it's her world where so many good and bad things that happen to her shape her into the person she is today, and she wouldn't change it for anything.

21:Lightning Flask

22: Elvis, Antivian

23: She pretends she okay and that she has everything handle until she's alone to break down

24: She's hopes there is one

25: Duelist

26: Probably a dog, like a Siberian Husky or maybe a German Shepard

27: She barely remembers her life before she was ten-year-old all she knows was that she been living as an experiment for years and then Viago saved her, and she became a crow

28: Sadly, she doesn't feel like she should be the leader, but Varric asked her to be it and no one else seemed to want the job

29: Shadow Dragon, because she hates slavery and the Venatori just as much as them if not more and maybe should've met Dorian early and found out about the truth of her past earlier on

30: I just can't help but love Ashryn, she is unapologetically flawed, but just lovable as well, she's always caring about others and always forgetting about herself. She's sarcastic and funny but really kind as well, and even though she doesn't think she should have become the leader of this group she steps up and did her best and I think deep down she knows Varric is proud of her

Rook Questionnaire

inspired by @cassieuncaged's BG3 Character Development Questions but for Rook instead!

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from?

2: What is your character's alignment?

3: Race and subclass?

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found?

5: What emotion did they usually pick?

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

7: Romantically close with?

8: Who are they suspicious of?

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction?

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

11: Weapon of choice?

12: What is their orientation?

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

14: What hobbies does your Rook have?

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas?

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric?

19: How do you think they'll meet their end?

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him?

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability?

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis?

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

25: What specialization best represents your Rook?

26: What animal best represents your Rook?

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard?

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why?

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

[revelboo]

Idk if you know this but wasps fucking. LOVE sugar and honey. Its what the adults usually eat iirc. Thats why Wasps usually go after bee hives (for multiple reasons, the bees become food for the larval wasps, its basically an all you can eat buffet, its also getting rid of competition, ect)

Anyways. All this to say: Waspinator finding the sugar/honey and being like "What. What is??? Smells weird, like antifreeze a bit. is it antifreeze?? (bc fun fact waaaay back in the day Antifreeze actually had a sweet taste that was super dangerous bc ppl would poison others with it so a bittering agent had to be added but like, i dont think that would be a thing for cybertronians so theyre used to mildly sweet antifreeze anyways-) Then he tastes it and is like OH FUCK YEAH LETS GOOOOOOO. But sadly sugar is SUPER BAD for vehicles like cars and stuff. So i imagine poor Waspinator goes on a sugar bender and then comes to like "Wha happun...." and hes aching and feels AWFUL, sprawled out in the barn, covered in christmas lights from someone else's house and SO much dirt and sand from like 6 different states and the human is just like "So. youre awake. Get up, i got the powerwasher. You're COVERED in dead bugs, youre not coming in my house."

Oh, I love this!

Worker Bee Pt 19

Waspinator x Reader

• Inhaling because you don’t have the energy to deal with his misguided ‘dating’ right now or even to try and figure out why he thinks that could ever work, you yank your hand out of his grip and he makes a noise of whining protest. But you can flex your fingers now even though they’re sore. Magic, alien bug spit. “Waspinator, sweetie. I have to report in to my boss and get some loan applications processed or I’m going to get fired.” And he’s just staring at you, head tilting. You’re pretty sure all he heard was ‘Waspinator blah blah blah.’ Right. “If I get fired I can’t afford food or my house.” That he’s pretty much trashed. “I’ll be homeless.” There’s a reaction, antenna back and wings buzzing. “You don’t want that, right?”

• “No,” he growls, wings humming and flaring out slightly. Because no one is taking little friend’s hive away. And you reach up and pat him on the cheek. ‘Great. So you just go watch cartoons, okay? And be quiet,’ you say, nudging him into the other room and he allows it, because you’re touching him voluntarily. Settling himself on the couch, he fidgets with the skinny control stick that makes the screen work like you’d shown him. Can hear you talking to someone else on the little screen he’s forbidden from touching. Why do you sound different talking to them? Venting in annoyance, he fidgets before slipping out of the hive to patrol. Too agitated at the idea of someone daring to try and take your home, his home.

• Somehow you manage to convince your boss that you’ve not been checking in because you’ve been deathly ill. Too ill to go to the doctor. At least, you pray he brought that lie. Catching up on loan applications, it’s a couple of hours before the quiet really registers. Maybe Waspinator is just being good. Watching cartoons. Teeth gritting, you can’t make yourself believe that. He’s got to be quietly destroying something. Or rooting up someone else’s azaleas to drag in your house to go with the other one. Dating. How are you going to explain to him that’s not happening?

• Roaming the property, his wings tuck close to his back against the cold. Heading through the trees surrounding your home, he moves in a widening spiral and vents softly when he leaves the trees and comes across a series of black boxes. That smell sweet. Circling one and toying with it, that scent is somewhat familiar. Sweet and cloying. Transforming he leans his upper body on the box and uses his mandibles to begin chewing through it to get to that delicious smell.

• Startling when you hear a boom, you inhale. Then there are several more in quick succession, you save your work and get up. Know the guy closest to you is a bit trigger happy, but if he’s shooting at skunks again and you have to smell a dead skunk for two weeks straight again, you’re going to- the house is quiet. Swearing, you run to get your boots and coat after realizing Waspinator isn’t in the house. Why would he go over there, though? The old man is coming out of the woods, face ruddy and wearing coveralls and slippers, a shotgun in his hands when you get outside into the snow. “Are you out of your mind?!” You scream at him, going with righteous indignation. And the old man hesitates but doesn’t lower the shotgun. ‘There’s a monster wasp. I saw it. Tore up my bee hives,’ he says, turning in a circle. “You’ve seen some whiskey. You even hear yourself? A monster wasp?” Feel bad as you say, trying to convince him he’s crazy to get him to leave. “Get the hell off my property before I call the cops!” And he’s scowling at you, insisting he saw it as you dig out your phone in threat and he starts moving. How much are bee hives? Because you’re going to owe him. Waiting until you’re sure he’s long gone, you head into the barn.

• Groaning and shivering uncontrollably, his head lifts when the hay he’d burrowed into is dug away from him. And his little friend has come to see him, eyes narrowed. “Waspinator’s frieeeend,” he drawls, feeling absolutely awful and jittery as he snares you with two limbs and drags you into the hay with him, curling his altmode around you, limbs grabbing on as you wriggle, screeching that’s he’s sticky. Very, very sticky. And feeling not quite overenergized, but close. Processor miserably buzzing as he rests his head on top of yours and curls tighter around your warmth.

• “Let go!” He’s back in his awful giant wasp form and he’s curling up like wasps do when they die. Is he dying? And he’s forcing you into a ball, legs drawn up to your chest as his thorax curls up. He’s humming now. Is he singing? Wait. Is he drunk? Arms now pinned to your chest, you can feel whatever he’s absolutely covered in sticking to you, too. Beehives. It’s honey. He’s covered in honey and dead bugs. And you are, too now. Why? Why is he like this? Legs shifting against you as he slurs ‘Waspinator’s little warm friiiiend.’ Wondering how long it’ll take him to sober up right as he makes a funny hitching noise and you’re thrashing to get away when he shudders and does it again. “Don’t you dare throw up honey on me-Waspinator! Don’t you dare!”

Previous

[voxslays]

BLUE HAIR — THANOS

✮ With how vibrant your hair was, it was really no surprise how fast you caught the has-been rapper’s eye. Thanos was quite impressed with the color actually, having spent so much of his adult life with colored hair himself.

✮ Don’t get me wrong, Thanos one hundred percent likes his purple better. Yet, he finds that he can’t look away from your vibrant hair. So, during the ‘intermission’ before the first game, he introduces himself with one of his signature raps.

✮ After the first game, when you discover the truth about these seemingly innocent games—and the blood money you could win by killing all the other players—Thanos approaches you again, inviting you to join his team.

✮ During the six legged race, you play Ddakji, flipping the blue paper square in one try—giving your team a much needed head start. You find yourself actually having fun with Thanos and the rest of your team. Maybe playing one more game wasn’t such a bad idea?

✮ But you would quickly take that mindset back once you played the first round of mingle. The other two games were based on skill, this one? It was more luck and alliances than anything. Sure, you trusted Thanos, but would that one alliance be enough to save you?

✮ No, it wasn’t. You had always had a bad feeling about Nam-gyu. He just rubbed you the wrong way. You knew you were wrong to trust him, or any of them. That was, until Thanos ran out of the room and picked you up.

✮ He carried you to one of the small rooms, a blue one, labeled number 48. He put you down and shut the door as soon as the timer ended. He had saved you. “Why?” You asked. Hadn’t he cared about Nam-gyu more?

✮ “I’m not letting you die that easily, Señorita.” He smirks, blood covering his face as he pulls you into a slow, sensual kiss. Maybe these games weren’t so bad. You two could conquer anything, couldn’t you? You were a good team.

[psychemochanight]

I need a fanfic where fanon!Dick is the perception his brothers have of him, and Dick simply accepts those ideas of him, without trying to prove otherwise.

Tim admires Dick, yes, but he thinks he'd set a computer on fire if he tried to turn it on.

Dick, being the one who helped with almost the entire Watchtower system, who hacks into different Intelligence Services whenever he feels like it, and steals files from the catcomputer whenever he needs something and doesn't want to ask for it, without anyone knowing (not even Tim).

Jason, admitting that Dick is very socially intelligent, but horrible at other types of intelligence, especially math and literature.

Dick, who was a top student who graduated from high school early in advanced classes and only doesn't pursue further college degrees because he is too bored to go to class, plus, he won every math competition he entered and was considered a genius by Bruce, Alfred, and his teachers. (And he read all the books in the mansion since he was little, but he is more fond of classic literature than modern literature).

Damian, thinking Dick is too soft, that he works on hugs and doesn't know how to set boundaries because of how kind he is.

Dick, who can be even more brutal than Bruce when required, who actually prefers his personal space most of the time (he does like physical contact, but not as much as everyone thinks), and that he has not only hurt people because of how strong his words are when he is angry, but he has gotten into fist fights with people to defend his own boundaries.

(He's still the one who knows Dick best tho, yes, he is too nice for his own good sometimes, but he's not stupid either).

And Duke is sure Dick can't cook to save his life because he always sees him eating cereal or just simple food.

Dick knows how to cook perfectly, he just likes simple food more and cereal is mostly because it is his comfort food and his need for sugar to keep going.

Not to mention everyone thinks he's a playboy, heartbreaker and all that.

No, (actually Tim had more partners than him, lol), and Dick is quite a demisexual, romantic person, who feels sick whenever something ends in a one night stand, because he feels that those things should be done with someone he loves. Plus, he really doesn't even like people complimenting him on his looks; even though everyone thinks he enjoys the attention, which is why his brothers send him thirst trap type videos made by his fans (both Nightwing and Dick Grayson's).

Girls actually believe some of these things too, but not to the extent that boys do.

It can also play on the fact that other people rather think that Dick has anger issues and is completely violent, or thinking that he was Bruce's nightmare when he was a child.

Extra points if it has a mention that he's the one who's actually addicted to coffee and insomniac, lmao.

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Gorp, Questionable Child Rearing, Progressive elves and some campaign lore!

As always, I apologize if your ask isn't here/ hasn't been replied to, it is unfortunately impossible for me to answer to every question I get to the extend I would like to. Occasionally I also just don't have a very interesting answer to offer 😅 and I try to avoid spamming people's feeds! But thank you so much to everyone who interacts with my stories, characters, art, and is curious about my thought process and writing! The response is frankly just as overwhelming as it is deeply appreciated, and every word of encouragement or message about how I inspired you to draw or write more of your own stories makes my day.

DU drow and Gortash had what I would describe as a "Toxic Friendship". They got along well enough, had little friend dinner-dates, drank together, superficially shared their woes in ways that benefited no one, and DU drow ultimately had a great deal of respect for Gortash - except you would have never known that by the way he treated him.

DU drow belittled, harassed, and even destroyed Gortash's property on whim alone. Every compliment was back-handed and every display of friendship was somehow sarcastic. Gortash let everything slide right off his back for reasons I like leaving obscured. Here's a particularly intense write-up I did about their relationship a long time ago that still stands. I think it serves really well to illustrate how intense DU drow could still be about his friendships.

PFFTT, I don't know why that would be a female-child only thing, but maybe that's just a colloquialism?

DU drow actually talks pretty similarly to children as he does to adults! He just doesn't set the same expectations on them. Children don't ask stupid questions because the world is still new to them, nor do their respond reasonably to everything, they also don't understand some big words or complex ideas depending on how you present it to them - he understands this and adjusts accordingly. But otherwise his tone would be the same, even with his his own child. He's that guy who's good with kids on the basis of treating them as to-be adults rather than.. Well, just a child.

The Astarion assessment is fair, LOL.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

(Surface) elven kind strikes me as fairly gender-indifferent overall! And while I enjoy theorizing about how their culture has shifted over the years from exposure to "urban life", for both better and worse, I like to think this is an aspect that has remained mostly unchanged, even for elves who may have had a really mixed-up upbringing from living in a city as diverse as Baldur's Gate.

I believe Astarion (and by extension Shadowheart and DU drow) are fully aware that they read as their respective genders and that for other races, such as humans, that means something; but for them that is a different custom that doesn't really apply outside of pronouns and reproductive expectations. So, I actually believe that Astarion would be pretty indifferent to life as a woman save for occasionally missing having a dick for the obvious reasons (only to then shift back and lament the opposite, probably).

ALL THE TIME!

But I know that you meant to ask if I will ever draw it.

VERY LIKELY THAT I WILL.

As a side note, thank you for showing interest and excitement for male-on-male sex that isn't just anal, LOL.

CW for the obvious, though nothing too descriptive or awful.

I understand if people disagree as a knee-jerk reaction, but I would say that Astarion's character demonstrates a shocking amount of self-control and emotional regulation. I went into this more in detail in an older post, but basically: the guy always brings himself down from his own outbursts, is exceptionally good at reading the room, is extremely forgiving and pragmatic, and knows when to send the jokes outside and respond to vulnerability in kind. I stand by this as more than a headcanon; it's in his actual writing and dialogue.

All that to say, I don't think Astarion would ever lay a violent hand on his own children. I also don't HC him as having endured corporal punishment as a child, hence not really having that instilled in his mind as a possible example to draw from.

I could see DU drow implementing physical punishments that he doesn't consider to be actually painful, like pulling, pinching, or squeezing a child while you reprehend them; things a parent might do because they think it's harmless. Astarion would probably be the one to say he's not really achieving anything - so it would likely be short-lived.

I DO think they would both be okay with setting up their children to pretty arduous physical labor, though, both as punishment and just in general to toughen them up. You could argue there's a way to do this that is reasonable, but they would prooobably push that line into dubious territory.

Buddy, WHO said low fat, what do you think the meat and taters that he's eating is swimming in!

But back to your question, he can enjoy a sweet treat every once in a while! He just far, far prefers savory. Personally, I think the guy would go crazy for a panettone. Or a big sugar-powdered crepe with some berries.

I kind of flew through the Circus in DU drow's playthrough because I was SO excited to get to Baldur's gate. They were only there long enough for DU drow to make Astarion mildly pissed off during the dryad's weird love quiz.

I also somehow missed Lucretious and never got the Dribbles quest - probably for the best.

Becoming a big ol' squid seems like a deal-breaker for his character in-game - so, same thing applies here. He'd let him down gently but potentially want a friendship for as long as DU drow is still himself.

... Buuuut it would never come to that; DU drow would most likely end his life pretty swiftly if he were to turn into a mindflayer, so Astarion wouldn't have much to worry about 😬

Alas, she pretty much never crosses his mind since he has no recollection of the type of relationship they had prior to DU drow's amnesia.

Or at least she won't as long as nothing weird ever happens that potentially jogs his memory 😇

Hello! I also love the escorts, but due to both DU Drow's and Astarion's respective attitudes towards drow and that kind of activity they didn't really hire his services. I do like to think him and his sister had a lot to gossip about as soon as they turned their backs, though, LOL.

[angel-kyo]

Almost the one [II]

When a too prone to fall in love Satoru decides he is tired of always chasing the wrong person, his eyes finally turn to the one that should be his perfect match, and to your dismay, this is no other than one of your closest friends; and while the idea of assisting your friend in becoming the man of someone else's dreams held no appeal to you, with your past revisiting, maybe helping him might be the way of helping yourself.

Prev: I

=======================

He must be nuts. There is no way he means it.

That’s what you had thought at Satoru’s request to date him before letting out an incredulous laugh followed by a court ‘No’, and turning around in direction to the campus.

“Why not?” he had asked, catching up with your step.

“What do you mean why not? Because it’s crazy.”

He had not insisted after that, and you assumed that he had not really meant it and it would be best to just forget it.

So why were you not forgetting it?

You peeked at Satoru from the corner of your eye. You two were now listening to the lecture of Mr. Nishikawa, or rather him reading an extremely long set of slides on statistics. It was one of the two classes you and Satoru would be taking together that semester. But as your friend kept looking ahead, his mind probably not on the lectures either, you kept wondering...

He could not have meant it, right?

Back there, he had looked so serious about it that, for a second, you almost believed him. However, you knew better. You were not the type he would date. No, he liked a certain kind of girls. Exotic ones, cute ones, some with stunning features or just girls who has a certain air around them. He liked girls who… stood out in a crowd. Girls like…

“Utahime!” a girl behind you called. “We saved you a seat.”

Utahime was one of your closest friends, and you were aware that her cool personality, and not to mention, graceful features, made her rather popular among your peers. So much that she seemed to have picked the interest of the Gojo Satoru himself.

The way he glanced to the back when she arrived did not go unnoticed by you.

He was at that phase of the Gojo cycle where he could not take his eyes off the one he liked.

The “Gojo Cycle” was something Shoko had come up after a night of too many drinks while you and your friends were discussing Satoru’s love life, and it could be summarized in five stages. The first stage was “The Cupid stage”, in which Gojo sets his eyes on someone for the first time and, as if targeted by Cupid himself, he thinks fate has brought them together. That was usually followed by the staring phase, where he currently was at with Utahime, always searching for her and effectively finding her in his surroundings, reinforcing his belief that the Universe wanted them together.

The third stage was dating. Most times, Satoru would be successful in asking someone out and even in taking them on a few dates for two or three week, but then, for some reason, they would inevitably enter the ’This isn't working stage’ and Satoru’s object of affection would start avoiding him, not answering his calls and texts, or plainly stating that they were not interested anymore. It did not matter how much he chased.

And that is when it came, the phase you feared the most: the heartbreak.

The last stage of the Gojo cycle you feared if not for it’s duration but for it’s unpredictability. Albeit short in terms of time, the process for mending Satoru’s heart could be… challenging. Sometimes he needed an emotional marathon of movies, some others, indulging in sweets to the point of almost making himself sick; other times, he just needed to hit the gym as if his life depended on it.

Party nights, running marathons, trying new hobbies, long calls at 3am….The list could go on and on. Sometimes, he would do all. And what all of Satoru’s coping mechanisms had in common was that he would drag you along with him.

Surprisingly, the breakup, if it could be considered as such, with Hana had not hit him too hard. While Satoru had worried you for a second making you think he was looking too deep into the reason why she had left him, his focus had then shifted to Utahime, which wasn’t ideal but just the fact of him moving on was a relief nonetheless.

===

“Are you sticking to basketball this semester?” you asked Gojo while you walked together out of campus.

He nodded with a big smile on his face. “Of course I am. The team is counting on me after all.” He winked and you would have rolled your eyes at his egocentric notions and tried to kick some sense into him so he would focus more on his studies, but the vision in front of you prevented any words from coming out.

Satoru, who had been expecting a snarky reply, looked down at you when none came from your mouth, only to find out you were not by his side but a few steps back, fixed on a couple of guys looking at one of the campus maps.

He knew one of them, Suguru, his friend and fellow teammate in basketball. However, he had never seen the guy next to him. Seeing that Suguru appeared to be giving directions and pointing at the map, Satoru assumed it was a freshman or a visitor who had asked for help, but that did not explain why you had gone pale out of nowhere.

“[name]? Are you okay?” Satoru asked returning to your side.

It took a couple seconds for you to nod and force yourself to look somewhere else.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Peripherally, you saw Geto wave and probably say his goodbyes to the other guy, and you couldn’t help but turn and try to get another look, hoping that you were mistaken, that it wasn’t him but someone with an uncanny resemblance.

You and Satoru were at least thirty feet away from them, but his eyes still met yours and you could have sworn you saw a brief flash of recognition on his face. You averted your gaze a soon as you could.

No, it was definitely him.

=======================

Note: To everyone's surprise, myself included, I'm alive.

[utilitycaster]

(I’m sure you’re getting a lot of asks right now, so if this isn’t a fun avenue for you, feel free to pass on over.)

So, the Vax of it all.

As a person who really loved Vax’s portrayal and his arc, the end of C1 was powerful and poignant. Dalen’s Closet was the perfect cherry on top of a truly bittersweet ending - a really touching way to give the characters some final interactions and show that he didn’t feel trapped or tortured by his duties as a champion. It gave a lovely sense of closure - with the button put on it that Scanlan couldn’t even cast the spell again, so it really reinforced the idea that magic had natural rules and consequences to big asks.

And then C3.

Obviously Vax was always going to factor into this campaign (one of the cast described this as their Avengers Assemble plot, after all), but with the way Matt had him appear and knowing how the rest of the cast was going to react to it, it really seemed like this ending was inevitable.

Considering that she was the bait in the first place, Keyleth was always going to realize where Vax was, always going to draw in the de Rolos to save him, and being familiar with Matt’s DM style (as well as any of us can be) I have a hard time believing he was going to do all that and then steer them towards an ending that would just have left Vax back as a champion - or even dead. Possible, but seemed pretty unlikely. (forgive my ignorance, I’m sure this is exactly what people were saying about Molly’s resurrection too, I wasn’t in the fandom then, but that at least was a DICE roll that concluded on camera, no way around that)

But now I’m just… so confused by so many choices. When did Matt decide this? Did Liam agree? If this was going to be the ending, why did he have the Raven Queen explicitly say ’you have one more night on Exand-- JK, hang out as long as you like, go look up that girlfriend of yours!” Was it JUST so the Vaxleth reunion would be the last scene of the campaign? W h y a n y o f t h i s ? But-- none of those are things we can really know the answers to, of course.

So my REAL question is, how would you have liked to have seen Vax brought into this story? A defender of the Raven Queen, going as far as to oppose Bell’s Hells (gods, can you imagine what the fandom would have done)? Would you have liked him to appear at all?

Btw, I’ve loved following your blog through this campaign - these last handful of episodes, I’ve been checking in daily like it’s my morning paper. Even on the rare occasion I do find my opinion differs, I find your analysis so thorough, so thoughtful and always entertaining. Excited (and maybe a little wary…) to see what we’ll get in C4! I, uh... sorry for the ask-wall-of-text.

So I will admit, I thought, until early in the finale when it became clear this was just the equivalent of the flavorless pure sugar drink they give pregnant people to test glucose tolerance, that Vax would be freed from his duties and laid to rest. The part with champions serving as protectors of the gods' realms honestly hadn't occurred to me but you could have done it with Morrighan (still physically alive) taking on the mantle and Vax passing on to the afterlife. Because the thing was, Vax was dead, the Raven Queen said "you can be alive temporarily as a revenant," and then once his mission was over, he died. He was literally already dead. I also maintain it was not an inevitability from the Orb situation; obviously I have no fucking idea what Matt had in mind, clearly, but in a case where Predathos remains sealed, then the Vax situation remains as it was; and in a case where Predathos is freed and devours the gods I think he dies more horribly vs. a gentle and kind passing (or perhaps some hail Mary scenario where after Predathos has glutted itself and left, he can perform the rites of ascension himself).

I guess the short answer is I really don't think this was inevitable because I think the vast majority of the finale and no small part of the campaign was again just. things happening because they needed to happen to get to the ending where Bells Hells were ostensibly happy (it's not very fulfilling to have everything given to you without it meaning anything), but I can think of a number of ways to run any final scenario re: Predathos and the Raven Queen where Vax doesn't come back. That was a very specific choice, and it was, as many of us have pointed, an immensely stupid one that was utterly unnecessary.

[omaano]

SW Hades AU January Update

Woohoo, look at that we have a header for the monthly updates now!

Some links and previous updates: May - June - July - August - September - October/November - December - everything else in this AU

I finally got around to not only finish Quinlan's character illustration, but also add a background, glow effect and text box to him.

I've got to say, I am very very proud and more than a little surprised at how well he turned out! Green is my nemesis of a color (that's partly why I decided to tackle Quinlan and Kit in one go - bite the bullet in one go and all that) but funnily enough all his greens are rather desaturated dark yellows (including his skin tone). Gosh, initially I'd picked those colours off of Ares, and up until I added the warmer red to the edges of the shadows on his skin I was very very terrified that I'd made a huge mistake here. (It's part of my art process, spending a significant amount of it being terrified that I messed up my colours beyond saving TT^TT) But he turned out amazing and super shiny!

Adding those snakebite piercings was also such a big brained idea (can you tell that I'm really really happy with him? XD) and this illustration is defnitely up there among my top faves with Shaak Ti.

Kit in comparison was a lot more straightforward (hah).

The foreshortening and positioning of his arms was... well. Not Fun, let's just stick with that, but I'm very good at dying on very small hills, and I'd got it in my head that I'm gonna push this pose A Bit. In the end it wasn't as much as I'd hoped for, but I did try for some exaggeration in the posing and anatomy as well. (Have you seen Ares's hands and forearms and Dionysos's thighs??)

Further SHOUTOUT and a million thanks to @hastalavistabyebye for their enthusiastic tags under all my Hades posts, and for being the genius mind behind these additional trinkets for this AU:

Fizzroot Shake for Nectar (we gotta be safe with teenagers around), and Tiingilar for Ambrosia ❤️❤️

Additional extra ramblings below the cut to save space on your dashboards:

Let's move from the trinkets back towards Kit and Quinlan last, yeah?

Fizzroot Shake and Tiingilar

It isn't as obvious with the big character illustrations as with the smaller images, but I really do have some trouble with keeping things - colours and shapes - simple. It's more obvious on small things that really cannot pack or fit in all those details, so I had to do a lot of repainting (like with the fizz fuzz foam of the shake, or the bowl of the tiingilar), and truth be told I'm still not happy. Might be that the drawing is still too detailed - but in my defense this was a wind-down project for me these past few weeks.

I have collected a few references for shapes and materials and colours from both Hades and Hades2 as you can see on the margins. I am still obsessed with the glow of Hestia's keepsake, it just glows, I love it! If I were to change a few things on these I think it would be to add some more orange/yellow to the Fizzroot Shake to offset the purple a little more (like how the purple bow balances out the very bright yellow/orange of the nectar/ambrosia), and work more black into the bowl of the tiingilar. I was thinking about adding more of that blue to it, but I wonder if even at this level there is too much of it...

Anyway, I will surely be forced to learn a lot more of this when I sit down to finish all my keepsake versions. Some of those are certainly still too detailed in their current design D:

Kit and Quinlan

I took a lot of inspiration for both Kit and Quinlan's clothing from concept art and character models from TCW. Especially for the pistols and the holsters for Quinlan's black getup that he would have worn if the Dark Acolyte storyline made it into the show, I believe.

I was also very very tempted to draw Kit wearing a really high cut swimming suit without the shorts/leggings. The ones that are cut so high they display the entirety of the hips and most of the ass as well probably? But I chickened out in the end, and stuck with a semi-see-through layer on his thighs too smh

I also try to be more intentional with my shapes in these designs. I'm not sure how I'm doing with that, but I tried for a lot of triangles with Kit. And lots of greens and orange, of course. To prove that I'm learning from those Hades style breakdown videos that I'd watched last year. So I made some notes on dominant shapes with the both of them (it was mostly triangles, and Kit also got a rectangle note as well), and to pick one bright, highlight colour while I keep the others desaturated to support that colour.

I think I did better on that front with Quinlan than with Kit. The yellow and gold of all his markings and jewelry pop real nice (and even the little "jewel" highlights of green and torqois worked so well in support of each other! I was really surprised, I generally hate adding them at the end...) and with his dark clothes, skin and hair they really support that metallic brightness even with the warmer tones worked in at the edges of shadows.

Kit on the other hand, I feel he turned out too bright and warm green, and so the orange in his vambraces and clothes don't pop that much. It lacks a bit of balance maybe. There was a time when he seemed to be too dark and desaturated a green, and that was likely the step when I got too scared to trust the process and turned up my saturation a bit too much. So I tried to work a bit of light yellow into him with that bottom lighting, and it did what it could but... oh well. I still quite like it, don't misunderstand me!

I know I sound a bit nitpicky here, but in truth I'm trying to work out what I could learn from these pieces that I might use in the next one! I'm trying to be more intentional with my work, but it doesn't come very easy to me, so working through these things in these posts do help a little. And who knows, maybe it will help someone else too :)

*

Taglist of anyone who wants to be pinged once a month for these updates <3 If you want to be added to the list send me a message, or just reply to this post (a 👀 would do, nothing fancy required ;))

@elwinged @yeehawgeek @velsayshi @lionsaint

If you want to be taken off the list just message me and I’ll take you off, no hard feelings :)

[mealonlegs]

After beating endwalker, I think his problem is that he's royalty. Like, the problem he has with his life. He's probably going to be a problem for all sorts of people no matter what, but so is everyone with that drive and power. WoL causes all sorts of problems.

But Zenos, Zenos was raised as royalty, heir to the empire, and taught with the assumption that others will work to bring things to him. The best weapons, the best trainers, the political people he needs. Everything is handed to him, so when he's not handed the thing he really, truly, wants (sick epic fights to the death that push him to the limit), he has no idea how to actually get that.

He kinda fumbles around trying to get people to fight him, but he's bad at it. You can see him treating enemies with a sort of respect, while trying to encourage them to be stronger. He leaves foes weakened but not dead, hoping that they'll just sorta happen to dedicate their lives to training and beating him. When he meets one of the best, who still isn't quite on his level, he leaves them alive.

And if you're in a 'get into wicked sick fights' it's a pretty shitty success rate. Epic sick fights Goerge (also known as the WoL), knows exactly how to get into epic soul-rending fights: By doing a bunch of boring tedious shit that makes you want to pull your hair out.

You gotta go on stupid fetch quests. You need to kill 3 squirrels to prove you can stab someone with a slightly shorter sword then the one you saved the world with. You gotta be told to talk to this person, and then go back to this other person, and then return to go talk to the person who you were told to talk to, but an Important NPC didn't tell you, so you gotta check in with them, when this all could have been a link pearl conversation instead of being told via link pearl to come back and report before being told to go do what you were doing.

But you do that long enough, eventually you'll be in a place where whenever there is some epic monster, or battle, or god, you know about it. And you can go fight it. You can fight and fight and fight until there is no one left to fight, but if you grind a bunch of wrap up political bullshit and do some stupid fetch quests, another fight will come around soon enough. And every poor-broke no-skill having adventurer knows this basic fact of life. You gotta do the boring, tedious work to get that real high of pitting your soul against everything and all. But Zeno's, who never had to work at anything he didn't want to, just was completely blind to the adventurer-based economy that defined the world. There's more then a few Zeno's Types, even in FF14, and for the most part these thrill-seeker adrenaline junkies have no problem finding shit in the world to test them. Alisaie, that guy from the ARR capstone society quests, Estinien, That Warrior quest trainer... everyone implicitly understands how to find challenging trouble: Be out and about in the world, but Zenos stuck in an ivory tower of royalty and generalship is blind to how 99.9% of the world works. Even in his general social sphere, someone like Gaius gets in a lot of sick fights, because he's out trying to do shit. But Zenos sits around waiting for problems to come to him, and that's why he hates his life. He may still be an evil villain causing naught but pain and suffering for all those around him, but he could have been happy like that if he wasn't the crown prince.

I wonder what Zenos would have been like, had he grown up under different circumstances? Like, is he just evil/endlessly selfish to the core and that's the way he is as a person and everything about him and his actions were just inevitably going to happen no matter what - or, if given a chance, could things have been different?

[f1cflcfic]

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz) - part iii

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: written au, brief 18+ content, angst

wordcount: 3.2k

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

previous parts available here.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

This isn’t happening.

It must be a dream, or a nightmare – you’re not entirely sure yet.

Carlos is outside. Has been outside for about two minutes now, if the delivery notification of his message is anything to go by.

Suddenly, that earlier idea of having a fifth martini and shot at the bar seems like a very bad one. In fact, you’re quite certain you wholeheartedly regret them when you stand up and have to immediately grip the back of the chair so as to not fall over. For a brief moment, you consider leaving through the back alley – but then you realise that it really doesn’t make a difference.

Carlos is already here, waiting.

It’s easy to lie to yourself, and pretend that it’s just the alcohol that’s making you feel lightheaded, as you make your way over to the podium once your team is crowned the winner of this month’s pubquiz. It’s easy to pretend that the air feels electric just because you’ve won, and you’re only looking out into the crowd to cheer your victory. It’s easy to pretend that you’re just tired and drunk, and that’s why you’re leaving so soon.

It’s too easy to spot Carlos hiding in the shadows of the pub, and follow him out to his unassuming Golf amidst all the opulence in Monaco, and slip into it like you still belong.

The alcohol has left you a little uncoordinated, and struggling with the seatbelt. On your fourth attempt, Carlos’ large hand reaches out and stills your movements. The ache in you grows a little bigger as you quietly watch him buckle you in, and you try not to focus on the heat his fingers leave behind on your skin.

Desperate not to somehow ruin the precarious peace – or the calm before the storm, your eyes flit across his car. There’s the chilli charm and your housekey, still dangling against the dash. And there’s the stuffy in the back, resembling Carlos’ family dog.

Everything looks the same as it always did.

It’s comforting and awful all at once.

“Smartinis. I like that one,” he murmurs with a soft smile, but you refuse to look at him. Won’t acknowledge that the way it rolls off his tongue is exactly the way in which you’ve been waiting to hear the team name spoken all night.

The problem is that you really do not trust your tongue around him, especially not when it’s already been loosened by alcohol. This cannot end up like that night ten days ago. No matter how much some part of you might want it to.

“What’d you win?”

When he doesn’t start the car immediately, clearly waiting for a response of sorts,  you sigh, fogging up a tiny part of the window your head is resting on. “Restaurant voucher.”

“Oh,” he nods to himself, and you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you meticulously draw a martini glass. “That’s nice.”

It feels awkward and uncomfortable, as the stifling silence descends on you once more. Someone walks past his car, and you wonder what it is exactly that he’s waiting for. Thanks? Acknowledgment? Forgiveness? Answers?

The thought alone has you shaking your head. There’s quite some answers that you’d like from him, instead.

Curiosity wins in the end. “How’d you know where I was?”

“Your location – you never turned it off,” he answers, guilt creeping into his voice as if he hadn’t wanted to admit that particular secret. You can’t help yourself as you turn over in surprise, knowing full well that you’ll find his brown eyes already staring back at you. There’s a whirlpool of emotions in them, and it hurts more than it should, knowing that you’ve inadvertently caused it.

His hand is resting on the console between your seats, and you fight the urge to grab onto it. To seek comfort in his touch, and provide some in return. Instead, you purse your lips and nod to yourself.

“And my sister,” he adds all of a sudden, as if he can’t stand the idea of not spilling his guts to you fully, completely.

You wish he’d done so earlier.

“She – she texted you were drunk, said you were upset. That someone had tried to come on to you.”

His hand leaves the console, and you follow the movement with your eyes as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s not my place, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And then when you didn’t reply, I just – I’m sorry. Joder.”  

It shouldn’t make you feel warm inside. Of course he cares. Carlos, for all his faults, is a good man. One who cares about his sisters. If his sister had implied you needed him, of course he’d come running.

It doesn’t mean anything else, you tell yourself. He hadn’t called, just because. Hadn’t reached out because he’d been missing you. He wouldn’t call for something so silly. He’d called, because his sister had made him feel like he needed to assuage her concerns. That’s all.

When you still don’t respond, he sighs and starts the ignition. But what is it that you even want to say? How can you possibly make sense of your alcohol-infused thoughts?

“He shouldn’t have texted you back,” you settle on. You’re still afraid of looking at him directly, of just how easily your carefully constructed walls would all but implode. Instead, you fixate on the way in which he holds the steering wheel, and how he clenches it just so when you speak. You’ve always known Carlos to be a relaxed driver, and his tight grip is so unlike him, that your eyes shoot up to gage his expression before you’ve even realised. Where he’d been looking at you earlier, he’s focusing on the road now.

“It’s okay ne- I mean. We’re not,” he struggles, as if for a loss of words. “We’re not together anymore.”

You nod, biting your lip. The shoot of pain blooming from your lips distracts from how much it hurts to hear it put so bluntly. To watch Carlos’ tight expression as he says it. It doesn’t feel as liberating as you’d hoped, instead an ugly sense of disappointment coming to the surface.

“Still. You’re not his to text,” you insist. Neither is he yours – not anymore, your brain helpfully provides. It’s Carlos’ turn to remain quiet, the silence feeling all but suffocating.

“Besides, I’m not dating Dean. Or anyone. But especially not him. He’s my colleague – the one your sister mentioned,” you blurt, as if compelled. Maybe it’s a sick need to break the silence, break the tension, a pathetic attempt to reach out. Or maybe it’s the liquid courage, you reason.

When Carlos doesn’t say anything, just briefly looks over with soft eyes and a stubble you’d really love to feel scratch against your skin again, you can’t help but continue.

“Would she have texted you, if she’d known?”

He tenses again, fingers flexing on the wheel. When he doesn’t respond, you try again – asking the question you’ve been dancing around.

“Carlos. Why didn’t you tell your sister about us?”

“Why didn’t you?” He parries, and you frown. It’s the coward’s way out. It’s exactly what had caused you to end up like this, sitting in the same car but feeling miles away apart from each other.

“Don’t do that,” you whisper. “Don’t fucking turn it around on me. It’s your family.”

“I wanted them to be yours, too.”

It’s said so quietly, you almost miss it. Panic unfurls in your chest at the insinuation. Hadn’t this been exactly what you’d been so afraid of?

“It’s not easy, you know? Trying to figure out what happened, and coming to terms with that, and then telling them,” he starts again. “I wanted – I didn’t want this either.”

“So then why you’d come at all,” you snap, tears welling up in your eyes. Whether out of frustration, heartbreak, or alcohol, you can’t even tell. Clarity. You’d kill for some fucking clarity. The question is if Carlos Sainz Junior is the person who can even grant it.

“Because I lo-care, Y/N. And I know you do, too. You could’ve told me to go. Could’ve chosen to stay and ignore me. But you didn’t. And that means something. At least it does to me,” he sounds upset, accent getting thicker as he speaks.

As the car winds down the Monaco roads, creeping closer and closer to your apartment building, it hits you. What if he runs out of road? If there’s nowhere else to go? What happens when time runs out on you to have this conversation? It terrifies you – imagining a future with, or without Carlos. It’s equally frightening, and therein lies the problem, doesn’t it?

“So then why’d you leave? You could’ve stayed. The other day when we – well,” your voice cracks, and you hate it. Hate how vulnerable he makes you feel, even now. Even when you’ve done everything you could to protect and arm yourself. It’s still led you back to this.

One of his hands slips from the steering wheel, reaches out as if driven by instinct, before retreating to a neutral spot on the console instead. He mutters something under his breath, then sighs in resignation.

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t really want to hear the answer to.”

The biting remark almost makes you flinch, but it’s a sudden yet violent wave of nausea that actually does you in. With one hand pressed to your mouth, you desperately reach out to find purchase on Carlos’ arm.

You try to breathe in and out through your nose, suppressing the urge to gag. He pulls over to the side of the road, and within seconds he’s at your side. “It’s okay nena, take a deep breath, there you go.”

It’s probably one of the most embarrassing moments in your life – dry-heaving on the highway, in the middle of the night, with your ex there to witness it all. Consoling you, offering you a bottle of water when inevitably you do throw up the contents of that evening.

“I’m so- fuck, so sorry,” you take another gulp of water, and dab at your mouth with the tissue Carlos hands you next. Refusing eye contact, you slide down to sit on the gravel, leaning against the car.

He sits down next to you, just close enough for your shoulders to brush, but doesn’t say anything.

“I almost threw up in your Golf.”

“It could’ve been my Ferrari,” he tries to lighten the mood, but instead you let out a strangled laugh that turns into a hiccup as the first tear rolls down your cheek.

“Weirdly, I think I wouldn’t feel as bad. Your parents bought you this car – I know you love it the most.” Another tear follows, dropping onto your shirt. “And I almost ruined it. As usual.”

Carlos stiffens next to you. “And now I’m crying. Shit. I’m sorry Carlos, I think I just – I need to go home. Sleep it off.”

You push the palms of your hands into your eyes, hoping to rub away the tears and keep new ones from falling. It doesn’t work, because tan fingers encircle your wrists to pull them away from your face.

He cradles your hands in his lap, then gently dips his head down so there’s nowhere to hide from him. It leaves you feeling incredibly bare.

“You didn’t ruin it. And I don’t love it the most,” there’s nothing but conviction in his eyes when he catches your gaze. Except, when you get sidetracked by the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks, you see a flicker of something else. Hesitation.

The air feels charged, as if you’re both waiting on the precipice of something. You’re acutely aware of the way his hands tighten briefly around your own, how his shoulder nudges yours, and how his chest rises and falls just slightly quicker than usual.

Desperate to break the tension, and feeling entirely too close to losing it completely, you try and claw back what little control you have over the situation.  

“I don’t think I’ll puke anymore,” you whisper. It should make him recoil, should make him want to back away. But instead, Carlos tries to hide a smile before pressing a brief kiss on your forehead. As he pulls back, his eyes flicker to your lips, and almost on instinct, you tilt your head upward.

He swallows, voice dragging as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I – let me get you home.”

You nod, but make no move to get up or disentangle yourself from him. Carlos does it for you, slowly severing the connection as he stands up and pulls away.

The drive home isn’t far anymore, and within fifteen minutes, the car comes to a standstill again. You’ve spent it in silence, taking small sips of water every once in a while as you tried to gather your thoughts. Not that you’ve made much progress on that front. You’re still as confused, wondering exactly why it is that you keep rubbing at your ribs – as if there’s some physical pain you can just magic away.

“We’re here,” Carlos breaks first. He looks over at you, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

You know it’s dumb, that it’s you falling in exactly the same trap as you did ten days ago. But just like that, he’s quietly following you out the car and into the building.

The elevator ride sees you ignore his presence, but you feel the heat emanate from his body as he hovers behind you and presses the button to your floor.

When you unlock the door, Carlos steps inside before you do. “Let me help you,” he offers as explanation. Before you can even realise what he means, he’s bending down, unlacing your shoes and motioning for you to use him for balance as you step out of them.

“You want to shower?” He asks next, and you find yourself nodding dumbfounded.

He toes off his own shoes quickly, hangs your coat in the coatrack and disappears down the hallway. When he returns, holding a towel and your favorite showergel, you follow him into the bathroom. Carlos helps you undress, and it’s soft in a way you can’t quite understand. Can’t fully grasp what’s happening between the two of you now. Why he’s here, why he’s being so kind, why he’s taking care of you – when you’ve done nothing but push him away.

He motions for you to step under the shower, and you’ve never felt more confused when he makes to turn away. So you find yourself asking if he’ll join you.

“Just – could you wash my hair? It’s all knotted.” It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. But he relents, anyways. Gives in, like he always does – like you’d hoped he’d do. His eyes lock on yours as he strips off his clothes, before joining you.

It’s not sexual, but it feels intimate and right for all the wrong reasons, you tell yourself. Carlos’ hands move through your hair, scratching just so at your scalp that you can’t help but moan.

His breath hitches, and when you return the favour, letting your fingers linger at the nape of his neck, it’s as if there’s a coil spring between the two of you, ready to snap.

Once the water’s shut off, and Carlos steps away to grab your towel, you step up right behind him. Even though he turns around in surprise, he doesn’t say anything. Waits for your cue, as he slowly drags the towel down your shoulders and back. A small collection of water drops runs in rivulets down his chest, getting tangled in the chest hair he’s yet to shave off. You flick your gaze up at Carlos’ eyes, molten chocolate staring back at you. The coil snaps. Without breaking eye-contact, you step even closer and can feel his arousal as you move to kiss the water away.

It all goes downhill quick after that.

Thirty minutes later, you’re staring up at the ceiling from where you’re lying side by side on your bed. Your hair’s still damp, sticking to your neck.

Silence descends, uncomfortably stifling the room.

“We shouldn’t have done that. I can’t – this is no good.” His words are like a punch to the gut. Because he sounds broken, and regretful, and yearning all at the same time. And you can’t handle it. Because you know he’s right. This isn’t healthy.

“How did we end up like this?” You ask quietly instead, carefully keeping your gaze fixed on the LEGO flowers that adorn your dresser. You probably should’ve gotten rid of those, too. Thank God your friends don’t know that it was Carlos who got them for you, and who you spent an entire afternoon with arranging LEGO bouquets.

“You ended things,” Carlos unhelpfully reminds you. His tone is unusually sharp, even though you can tell he’s trying not to show it. It hurts to know you brought that out of him, but it’s also exactly why you did it in the first place – end things.

Love shouldn’t hurt, not like this.

So it isn’t love, is what you’ve been telling yourself. It can’t be. Because you won’t allow it. But that doesn’t keep your treacherous heart from wanting it all the same.

“Would you have called, if your sister hadn’t texted?”  Do you miss me?

“You don’t want to hear that, Y/N.”

“Humor me,” you plead.

“Of course. I miss you. I miss you all the time.” It sounds anguished, and strangled as the words leave his mouth. You close your eyes, and take another breath.

Maybe there’s still a sliver of liquid courage swimming through your veins, or maybe it’s the post-orgasmic haze that lets the words slip by your usual defences. But you find yourself unable to stop them from coming out your mouth this time. “Then how is it that you are so competitive on track, but you wouldn’t fight for us? For me?”

You hate how small and vulnerable you sound, or how your throat feels thick all of a sudden. Stupid, stupid girl. Hasn’t he told you? Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

If Carlos is surprised by your sudden mood change, he doesn’t say. Instead, his fingers curl around your own, squeezing them briefly.

“I don’t want my relationship to be defined by competition. Love should be freely given, no?”

You’re quiet, trying to compute what he’s saying. You’ve never thought of it that way. Before you can object, he continues on. “And I’m here. I’m always here. Even when you don’t want me to. You can push me away, but it won’t change – I cannot change it.”

“Except for when you have to leave,” you whisper unhelpfully. He rolls onto his side and stares at you. It’s hard to make out his expression in the dark when you inevitably cave and turn around as well, focusing on where you know his face to be.

“Just because I have to, doesn’t mean I want to. But I won’t ask you for something you’re not willing to give.”

When you don't answer, he sighs. The bed dips, and while part of you would love nothing more than to latch onto him and keep him close - there's the part of you that's so afraid of what it might mean to do so, that lets him go.

Five minutes later, he's out the door.

It's not until the next morning that you realise his hoodie's gone too.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated. Next chapter will be out next week.

want to be added to the taglist? send me an ask!

[homelanderbutbig]

Proper Incentive To Be A Hero (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2341 words. Hurt/comfort, and some angst. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You are tasked by the Vought board with disciplining Homelander… he doesn't take it well. Inspired by a conversation with @sehtoast.

Although your official position at Vought is as Homelander's personal assistant, your role has become much more akin to his manager. You handle his day-to-day scheduling, book his appearances, help him prepare his speeches, and attend meetings on his behalf with board members. He trusts you to fulfill these duties for him, because you don't just go off with your own ideas; you listen to him. If there is something he doesn't like, you work with him until you're both satisfied. You operate as a team, something he never got to have with Madelyn. She made the decisions, and he had to follow them lest he upset her.

One day, you are called to the 82nd floor for an important meeting with the board. To be honest you were a little surprised for them to request you specifically and not Homelander, but once the meeting started you quickly understood why.

Homelander has always had an issue with collateral damage during his 'superhero missions'. Due to his size and strength you suppose it can't be helped, he's bound to topple a building or two to save people's lives. However, Vought is stuck footing the bill to fix everything he's destroyed, and to pay off any civilians he injured by accident.

First and foremost, he is costing them a lot of money with his carelessness that could be spent elsewhere. The board is emphatic that you ensure he curbs his destructive tendencies, seeing as you are the sole reason he's become easier to work with these last few months.

And truth be told, they really don't understand the half of it. Upon your gentle guidance, Homelander religiously tries to be on his best behaviour at the Tower and keep his anger under control, because you make sure to reward him with plenty of hugs, kisses, and cuddles. The things that he was never allowed to have, the love he's always wanted. You don't string him along with the feigning prospect of attention. You want him to know how much you appreciate his efforts, and he reciprocates by being an incredibly good boy, solely for you.

Later in the evening, you ask him to meet you in your office to discuss something 'important'. You have not yet told him what happened with the board, needing time to work out how to broach this touchy subject with him. He is not one to take criticism about himself lightly, especially when it's coming from the higher-ups at Vought. You just hope that your office is a hospitable environment to have this deliberation, with it being filled with photographs and mementos of your love for each other.

Like clockwork, Homelander enters your office at just the precise time you requested.

"Well, here I am," he smiles, shutting the door before strolling in front of your desk with his hands on his hips. His smile falters slightly when he sees your serious expression, which he can't say he's ever seen from you. "…What?"

"I had a meeting with the board members this afternoon," you begin.

"…Yeah? And what did they want?" he asks, his brows furrowing in anticipation of the board's latest demands.

"They wanted me to help you… get better at your saves. So you… don't… um… destroy so much," you respond, struggling to get your sentence out through your rising nerves.

He stares at you vacantly, blinking rapidly in disbelief at what he is hearing. After a moment of silence he scoffs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before he starts wandering aimlessly around the room.

"So… what, I'm a fucking toddler?" he frowns, the jovial mood he entered with now replaced by pure contempt. He's clearly irritated by the mere suggestion that he isn't doing his job perfectly. "I need you to babysit me because I can't be trusted to do shit on my own without being supervised?"

"I don't think that's what they want hun," you calmly attempt to rationalize, but you can see by how his eyes are twitching that this is going to be an uphill battle.

"This is what I was born to do, be a hero! Dedicate my entire fucking existence to Vought! And now what, I'm too much for them?!" he shouts, though you're unsure if it's directed at you or at the board.

"Sweetheart, I think-" you say, trying to get a word in, but your efforts are in vain as he begins walking towards you. Although you usually aren't bothered by his over-the-top bravado, the anger currently radiating off him is enough to make you feel uneasy. You're taking steps back as he stomps closer into your personal space, until you're back is against the wall. With nowhere else to escape, leaving yourself at his mercy.

"Is my best not good enough for you, is that it? Is that why you're siding with them?" he sneers, the unbridled derision dripping from his voice. Towering his expansive frame over you, you're forced to crane your neck straight up to even see his aggravated visage. "We're supposed to be a team! You and me against the world! A-and yet, what? One meeting and they convince you to keep me on a fucking leash? Are you too dumb to see they're just using you like a fucking pawn to control me?!"

"Hey!! That's not fair!" you retort, trying to push past the insults to delve into the obvious deflections of his guilt. "I'm not siding with you or the board. I'm just trying to do my job, just like you are! Can at least you answer me one thing?" you question him sternly, waiting a moment to see if he'll interrupt you again. When he remains silent, you seize the opportunity. "Why do you go out of your way to hurt the people you're supposed to save?"

That was enough to crack through his hardened exterior, you can observe it in the way his expression goes blank for a moment. His jaw tenses as he swallows back his rising anxiety, practically staring straight through you as he become lost in his thoughts. His brain is attempting to process a witty response, one to deviate the conversation back in his favour so you can admit that you're the wrong one. And yet, the way you look at him, so defiant in the face of an eight foot tall supe who could rip your head off with a flick of his index finger…

He can't handle it anymore.

"You know I can't control my height!!" he finally yells at you, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

The walls he's been trying so hard to maintain crumbling down, allowing all of his pent-up feelings to spill out with no signs of stopping now that it's started.

"I go out on these saves, and you know what I see? Every fucking time, these people, these fucking ungrateful mudpeople…" he rants, voice cracking as his once stable composure very quickly vanishes to reveal his vulnerabilities. "I risk my life to yank them out of a burning building, you'd think they'd be appreciative?? No!! They're scared, they're always scared!! They take one look at me and they don't think I can tell they all think I'm a monster?? How am I supposed to react to that? They think I can't hear what they're saying amongst themselves?? Gee, I'm grateful Homelander saved my life, but why couldn't Vought send a normal hero instead?? Why shouldn't I be mad! W-why shouldn't I break their legs so they learn how much their words fucking hurt!!"

By the end of his tirade, he looks like he's just about to burst through the walls and enact his revenge on the unsuspecting city below. His breaths are haggard, his whole body quivering heavily from the flood of emotions now laid bare for you to gawk at. His fists are tightly furled by his sides and tremoring uncontrollably, and if you were anyone else they'd be wrapped around your throat right now.

A sensible person would have run away from this outburst. Witnessing Homelander lose complete control of himself, only a fool would stick around to see the consequences.

However, you can see something in his body language that someone who didn't know him well would miss. That fracture in his otherwise immaculate armour, which normally shields his weaknesses from the world, is allowing you access to that part of him he's worked his entire life to keep a secret. His inner self, the boy whose childhood was nothing more than abuse and torture, you've pressured him to speak for the first time in a long time. Although his rage would appear to be from pure sadism to an outsider, he's revealed to you why he can't help but hurt those he's meant to protect. All he's ever wanted is to be loved, to receive what he's never been allowed to experience. And when people see him as nothing more than a monster…

He can't help but inflict his trauma back.

Sighing resolutely, you slowly saunter over to your office's oversized couch. The tears he's fighting back are all the evidence you require; while he won't say it out loud, he's admitted defeat. All he wants now is for you to forgive him.

"Sit down," you insist, your hand patting the middle cushion. He hesitates to even flinch, standing still like a deer caught in headlights. However, the way you eye him so intently is enough for him to understand you aren't giving him any chances to say no.

Homelander might have been in charge of this conversation before, but now it's your turn.

Like a scolded dog, he follows your orders and makes his way to the couch, sitting down with fists by his sides. He's waiting for you to do what everyone has always done when he disobeys: punish him by taking away the few things he holds dear. You might not be Vogelbaum or Madelyn, but tonight was the first time he exploded in rage at you, in a way that would warrant admonishment.

Regardless of his expectations, you don't intend to express any frustration.

Instead you climb up onto his lap, kneeling down on his thighs so your face is directly in front of his. Gazing into his eyes, it's apparent that his inner child now in control. He looks so petrified, so small; his breathing shallow in anticipation of the pain he's grown accustomed to. It's almost enough to make you forget he's so tall that you are literally sitting on top of his legs just to reach his head.

"You aren't a monster baby," you console him, resting your forehead against his while you cup his cheeks with both of your hands. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that. I know how hard you try."

Your compassionate words are enough to begin to soothe the scorches inflicted on his ego. Homelander stops fighting his tears as he exhales deeply, his breaths finally becoming more steady. He leans ever so slightly into your touch, resting his hands against your back to keep you from falling down from his weight. The way he's totally enveloping you in his hold, it's as if you're the only thing anchoring him to reality and he needs to be as close to you as possible.

"Let's make a deal, okay?" you eventually declare, pulling back to see his face. "Every day we'll check in. When you go out on a mission, and you do your very best not to kill someone or break anything… we'll do something special together." You can see the wheels turning in his brain as he ponders this proposal. "We can bake some cookies, cuddle on the couch, watch one of your movies, have a warm bath together… anything you want," you explain further. "You can choose your reward."

"Even… e-even milk?" he whispers shyly, his eyes unable to hide his internal turmoil, the mixture of yearning and apprehension.

It's always been something he's had to struggle with deep down, the desire for what he missed during his childhood. He never had a loving family, a mother or father, nor had he ever been bottlefed as a baby. He's always been confused by how strongly he craves it, the simple and human impulses.

Sometimes the two of you share a bottle of milk together. And sometimes you indulge him by feeding him the bottle. Those times it's hard to miss how dilated his pupils become once the bottle reaches his lips, how deadweight he feels leaning into your shoulder as he gives into his basic instincts.

"Yes, I can feed you milk too," you reassure him, kissing his forehead before leaning in to wrap your arms around his wide shoulders for an embrace. This earns you a heavy sigh from him in return as he sinks into your touch, resting back against the couch and letting any remaining stress fade away. Your fingers running daintily through his hair is enough to have him purring contently into your small stature, his voice rumbling through you in a way you know only you can achieve.

Homelander supposes, now he finally has proper incentive to be a better hero. Fame and fortune were never enough to motivate him not to leave a path of death and destruction during his missions. Madelyn would placate him with the prospect of albeit hollow affection for following her orders, but it was rarely ever doled out. Always dangled in front of his face, yet always out of reach.

You're different. You would never lie to him or judge him, especially with the way you actually attend to his need to be loved. No matter what happens, you're always there to pull him in for a hug, to tell him everything will be alright, and that you're always there by his side.

He'll do better for you. He wants you to be proud of him, he wants you to be happy that he's trying to do good just for you.

…And the milk.

[voxslays]

can u do thanos’s reaction to pink hair? (preferably pastel) in or out of the games

BUBBLEGUM BITCH — THANOS

✮ With how vibrant your hair was, it was really no surprise how fast you caught the has-been rapper’s eye. Thanos was quite impressed with the color actually, having spent so much of his adult life with colored hair himself.

✮ While he considers pink to be a more girly color, he had considered dying his hair a fuchsia or pastel pink in his younger years. Thanos also admired your bravery, knowing how conservative the people of Seoul (and the rest of Korea) could be.

✮ Don’t get me wrong, Thanos one hundred percent likes his purple better. Yet, he finds that he can’t look away from your vibrant pink hair. So, during the ‘intermission’ before the first game, he introduces himself with one of his signature raps.

✮ After the first game, when you discover the truth about these seemingly innocent games—and the blood money you could win by killing all the other players—Thanos approaches you again, inviting you to join his team.

✮ During the six legged race, you play Ddakji, flipping the red paper square in one try—giving your team a much needed head start. You find yourself actually having fun with Thanos and the rest of your team. Maybe playing one more game wasn’t such a bad idea?

✮ But you would quickly take that mindset back once you played the first round of mingle. The other two games were based on skill, this one? It was more luck and alliances than anything. Sure, you trusted Thanos, but would that one alliance be enough to save you?

✮ No, it wasn’t. You had always had a bad feeling about Nam-gyu. He just rubbed you the wrong way. You knew you were wrong to trust him, or any of them. That was, until Thanos ran out of the room and picked you up.

✮ He carried you to one of the small rooms, a rede one, labeled number 32. He put you down and shut the door as soon as the timer ended. He had saved you. “Why?” You asked. Hadn’t he cared about Nam-gyu more?

✮ “I’m not letting you die that easily, Señorita.” He smirks, blood covering his face as he pulls you into a slow, sensual kiss. Maybe these games weren’t so bad. You two could conquer anything, couldn’t you? You were a good team.

[tgmsunmontue]

Tracing poetry with your lips - 6/? - Hangster

One juvenile kissing game and two juvenile idiots both convinced they can win the game. (Will be Explicit). Idea from @iprefervillains

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

PART SIX

                Jake has always been a perfectionist, the ambition to be the best, and he’s never shied away from the hard work to get himself there. Sometimes the hard work is rewarding in itself, like right now, watching Bradley’s skin go all mottled pink-red with arousal as Jake attempts to taste every square inch while he jerks his cock.

                “Supplies?” Jake asks, because again, this is Bradley’s turf and he’s not going to go rifling through drawers. He feels Bradley shift, twisting and reaching toward one of the bedside tables before he’s pulling out an almost empty bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. He wants to make a comment about the obvious use of lube but decides he might save that for later. After. Last thing he wants to do right now is ruin the mood, so all he does is note the drawer for future reference.

                Jake has had sex with a fair number of people, but none of them have ever quite let themselves go in the way that Bradley does. Then again they’ve probably not held themselves as tightly as Bradley seems to. He also wonders if it might be because he knows Bradley better. Known him for years. Knew him in a professional capacity first, a serious angry man hell bent on proving himself just as much as Jake had been. He knows it’s why they got off on the wrong foot initially. The way Bradley is in bed though makes him wonder what Bradley would be like if he wasn’t constantly trying to prove himself, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to be lucky enough to find out. Now that Bradley believes Jake wants to be here for more than sex.

                He’s used to Bradley rolling over, shoving himself onto his hands and knees, head hanging down, so he’s never had to look at Jake while he’s stretched and prepped him. This is definitely a variation and he’s not going to ask if Bradley is sure. Jake trusts him to speak up if there’s something he doesn’t want or doesn’t like. That’s actually reassuring, knowing Bradley will say something. Has done before. He kisses down Bradley’s chest, nips gently at pebbled nipples and replies to Bradley’s groan with a groan of his own and he shuffles and Bradley shifts his legs so they’re spread wide.

                “Hips up…” Jake murmurs, palming one hip in question but reaching for a couple of pillows to slide under Bradley as he thrusts his hips off the bed. Jake quickly shoves the pillows in a close proximation of where they’ll need to be, but he’s more focused on Bradley’s cock and he leans down, sucks the head into his mouth.

                “Fuck me…” Bradley breathes and Jake sucks a little more, runs a finger between Bradley’s ass cheeks and feels his entire body twitch, clearly wanting to press into both sensations at once.

                “Getting there…” Jake promises.

                Bradley lies there, head thrown back, arm over his eyes but Jake can see his mouth, teeth biting his bottom lip as often as he gasps for breath as Jake slicks up his fingers and sets about stretching him open. He enjoys sex a lot more when he knows the other person is really into it; is letting themselves enjoy it and the way Bradley is moving, trying to press himself onto Jake is definitely encouraging.  Has always been encouraging. Now is no different and he works efficiently, eyes roving over the flexing muscles of Bradley’s body and he lets himself kiss every bit he can reach.

                When Bradey’s hips are hitching, chasing after Jake’s fingers, is when Jake lets himself pull back, wiping fingers on a corner of the bedspread so he can grip the foil of the condom wrapper without it slipping and becoming a comedy of errors. Then he’s rubbing the head of his cock over and around Bradley’s hole, chances a look up and sees Bradley watching him intently. He keeps their eyes locked as he presses in in in, his mouth dropping open and he holds himself still, letting Bradley get used to the feel, but giving himself time to claw back his control.

                “Kiss me… Jake… kiss me… please.”

                Jake doesn’t hesitate, grinds his hips, pulls Bradley forward a little and then braces his hands on either side of Bradley’s head; leaning down and sliding his tongue into Bradley’s mouth in a crude imitation of what their bodies are doing. He lets that set the pace, their bodies rocking together and he feels Bradley lock his ankles around him and he pulls back, needs to see…

                “So fucking gorgeous Bradley… your legs. Fuck you’ve got gorgeous legs. Pretty cock…” Jake says, running his hands over Bradley’s thighs and stomach as he talks, lets his fingers run over Bradley’s hand wrapped around his dick. He lowers himself back down, can feel Bradley’s hand moving on his cock between them as Jake continues to roll his hip, capturing Bradley’s lips in another kiss.

[skythealmighty]

haha i love when i struggle with multiple hyperfixations at once. i am a coward for not making a crossover between allnof them but like. worldbuilding hard stfu

#rocket talk #the hyperfixes: #tmnt #inanimate insanity #bfdi #dsmp #the last one mostly spurred on by the stupid shit dreams doing #love clowning on that fool

(0 notes)

🤍 notalwayssecondplace Follow

i love how people are reblogging gi's hit post like it isnt a sign of his crippling inability to deal with change or to come to terms with his own self

anyway on other news i have a bunch of ideas for a new d&d campaign!

#i love my cousin but he really really needs therapy #like REALLY really

(12 notes)

🔧 warp-pipe-sfx Follow

I just realized... why do we call it "humanity"? Shouldn't it be "objectity"? IS it that in some universes? Can we claim universes that use "humanity" all once had humans???

⛳ bossy-bot Follow

Hello! Golf Ball from the BFDI universe here. I can confirm we use 'humanity' because we have, and also have had, humans. I cannot say for other universes though.

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

Fan II at your service! we use both- humans are kind of a myth for the most part. depends on how religious you are sometimes

💊 the-cringe-one Follow

Cringe Pill, TDOS- 'objectity' is the main term we use. Hadn't even heard of humans until Real Life Battle, honestly

👓 the-nerdiest-glasses Follow

guys, you're way overthinking this. here one sec

add in the tags what universe you're from (and if you picked humanity, if you know why add that too)

🔧 warp-pipe-sfx Follow

Oh, hadn't even thought of that...

#Goes to show you can be as smart as you want and still be stupid 😅 #Very curious to see the responses

(351,294 notes)

🎩 not-a-magician asked: Hi, I've been seeing people ask you for advice on auras and mental wellness and things... do you have anything for sleeping? I don't know if I have insomnia, but I've definitely had some trouble sleeping lately. I'm tired as hell but can't seem to just. Do it. Any advice at all would mean the world to me, really

🕯 litwick-in-real-life Follow

(Reminder to all: my advice on here is not meant to replace professional help by any means. If this is the cause of underlying trauma, please turn to therapy and not Tumblr. I'm not licensed yet.)

Thank you so much for the ask! While I'm sorry to admit sleep habits are not something I'm particularly versed in, I will give advice to the best of my ability as always. Best wishes on your journey to heal ^-^

Full advice below the cut to save space, as always!

Keep reading

#mental wellness #sleep habits #sleep #candle's light advice #not-a-magician

(14 notes)

💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow

ive come to a realization

you're welcome

#tpot #gravity falls #bfdi #one bfdi #bill cipher #i spent way too fucking long on this #if anyone's done this before me don't tell me please #also please dont come after me one THIS ISNT AN INSULT

(931 notes)

👿 darkness-reigns-supreme-3882 Follow

WHY THE FUCK AM I GREEN NOW?!

👿 darkness-reigns-supreme-3882 Follow

GREEN ISN'T INTIMIDATING. GREEN IS STUPID. GREEN IS ~nature~ AND ~healing~ AND PEOPLE WHO GET STUCK UP ON MOUNTAINS!!!!!

👿 darkness-reigns-supreme-3882 Follow

there will be hell to pay for this.

#i SWEAR if who i thought did this did this.

(2 notes)

✅ marker-the-green Follow

Ummm why did I just get a bunch of hate dms after I changed my username? I thought these were over :[

#It's the same guy too.... #oh wait right I unblocked him since he stopped

(7 notes)

📱 phone-guy-not-fnaf Follow

Finally getting therapy ✌ unfortunately my therapist says it's not productive to be literally dancing on my dead father's grave. that beign said tune into my next stream where we do dares at his gravestone

(374 notes)

🗒 meme-pad Follow

how to stop water in pot from burning? tried to cook ramen and failed

🗒 meme-pad Follow

i did not mean to type this in google im crowdsourcing

🎩 not-a-magician Follow

What the hell did you do?!

🗒 meme-pad Follow

NOTHING

#wait u have a tumnlr?

(1,279 notes)

📛 loud-and-proud Follow

i know this is ironic because of my username but uh. does anyone have any advice for being in love w your best bro and not knowing how to say it

🎚 all-about-dat-bass Follow

bro... im right here...

📛 loud-and-proud Follow

bro... so... is that a yes?

🎚 all-about-dat-bass Follow

hell YEAH, bro!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

📛 loud-and-proud Follow

no way... i love you dude ❤

🎚 all-about-dat-bass Follow

love you too man ❤

📕 imnotafuckingdiary Follow

Fucking finally

#They were SO BAD off screen #Definitely didn't expect this on Tumblr of all places though.

(72 notes)

🥧 threepointonefourwhatever Follow

time sensitive question: is it possible to get sued by algebraliens

🥧 threepointonefourwhatever Follow

this was posted literal months ago why are you idiots still reblogging it.

1️⃣ theoneandonly Follow

I mean~... if you want help not getting sued, I could always lend a theoretical hand?

🥧 threepointonefourwhatever Follow

no soliciting

1️⃣ theoneandonly Follow

That's not what "no soliciting" means, you know.

🥧 threepointonefourwhatever Follow

suck my dick

1️⃣ theoneandonly Follow

Haha, rude! I'm only offering help, you know.

🥧 threepointonefourwhatever Follow

go away you bill cipher wannabe or ill bite into you like a stale dorito

1️⃣ theoneandonly Follow

I can find you, you know.

🥧 threepointonefourwhatever Follow

lol

#im about to do whats called a pro gamer move

(240,163 notes)

🥧 threepointonefourwhatever Follow

i blocked her 🎉

[googleitlol]

Gone Sneak Peek!

A huff of exasperation leaves you before you decide to face the path ahead and ready yourself by notching an arrow. “You act as though I hadn’t already spent weeks defending the Great Monk before we saved you from your imprisonment under that mountain.” “And I’m sure that was nice when it was just you, but does it really look like we’d need your help between the two of us?” The ape gestures between himself and Bajie with his head, who was looking between you and Wukong rather awkwardly. “Your pointy sticks won’t be necessary, Dove. Just stay back and… what is it you do again? Give Master a good pat on the back if he gets scared?” “You have no idea what I can do. If I were as immoral with my abilities as you, the monk wouldn’t have to put up with your aggravations.” You hiss at the ape, though he only laughs. “Your delusions truly amuse me.” He grins, which only serves to irritate you further. The combination of rain and wind feel like the only thing cooling your temper as he continues. “Why don’t you just stay back and do your job preventing the danger of a panic-induced heart attack?” “My job is to make sure the Great Monk and his disciples get to Thunderclap Monastery, no matter how insufferable and obnoxious I find them to be.” You grit your teeth as that last bit comes out, the wind growing stronger as the two of you glare one another down from either side of the horse. It isn’t until the monk rides ahead that the two of you snap out of your short-lived staredown. “Okay then! It sounds as though we all know what to do.” He smiles awkwardly at either one of you before facing forward to continue on the path. Wukong does the same, scoffing a bit under his breath before turning forward as well. However, a frown crosses his features when the wind picks up even more. Raising up his head, he sniffs at the air as Tripitaka continues. “Now, let’s continue on our way so we can get away from this place as swiftly as we–” The monk doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought before a large tiger leaps onto the path just ahead of your group. The man screams at the sudden arrival while you, Wukong and Bajie quickly jump into action. The three of you move between Tripitaka and the tiger, the monk falling off of Ao Lie in pure fright. “Hold on, Master!” Bajie calls back before lifting up his rake to bash in the head of the tiger. When the rake makes contact with the beast, you expected it to recoil or fall where it stood, but it did neither. Instead, the tiger raises to stand tall on its hind legs and reaches to be a good bit taller than the pig demon that struck him. Gripping onto his own shoulder, the tiger violently ripped off his own skin in a single powerful swipe. “It is always a good day when travellers cross our mountain.”

[gorgynei]

reading the sixth extinction for a class and ive started nihilistically waxing poetic in my reflection assignments:

When someone is faced with the idea of everything suddenly dying much, much more quickly than normal, they’re more likely to ignore it than embrace it with open arms. This is a very human reaction, of course, but it did also hold Darwin back from perfecting his theory. It really makes me think about what kinds of fears modern scholars have and how we may be held back by ours. I’m reminded of the grim reality that Kolbert (2014) tells of conservation attempts in chapter I—in our fear of losing everything, are we prioritizing the wrong things? Is our fear preventing us from seeing something obvious in retrospect? Is the fact that I am so afraid of the idea of it being “too late” to save a species evidence that it already is?

(for context, im talking about how charles darwin believed sudden mass-extinction events were impossible and extinction always happened at a fixed, extremely slow rate. obviously this is contradicted by the fact that many species went extinct in his lifetime)

like ohhh brother get a load of this guy. i know the TA who grades them is sick of me

its depressing to think about the stuff the book is getting at and im really trying to look at that critically and why its making me feel that way and what i can actually DO with that emotion. its just at the same time ive been having a lot of complex thoughts about wildlife management and prioritization and long term conservation. things that i will need to really have solid ideas about when it comes to my career in the field! the idea that eventually we might have to just give up on certain species because attempting to save them is a sisyphean battle and might end up just giving the remaining individuals a poor quality of life or wasting resources we need elsewhere is! really hard to stomach! but ive been chewing on it.

anyway sorry ace being a college student and yapping about what hes learning and thinking about moment