#so this will probably look utterly incoherent

[glass-cannon-kitty]

I love seeing other people’s glams in dungeons and such.

Especially if I’m running my Sage glam, which is built around the Casual Jacket and looks very modern and relaxed.

I once ran Prae with a group who like. Looked like they were there to fight, full armor, appropriate gear, weapons, etc.

Meanwhile there I was looking like I would have my tomestone in one hand and a Chocobucks in the other.

Idk the juxtaposition was funny to me.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Heard you wanted disgusting asks about Ford, here to deliver! Need to make that man feel so good, maybe even edge or overstimulate him, until his mind goes blank. Until he can’t even answer even the most basic(by his standards) of questions, he struggles to think and talk, all stammered phrases and foggy thoughts. His mind has been hard at work for too long, it’s time for him to cut loose! Of course he gets praised all during

I'm sober now and getting slut's regret but I'm also ovulating (tmi) so the regret isn't really hitting like it should and I can still be weird on main about this old man...........

Ugh you're so right.

Just edging him to the point of incoherence would be so good.

You could pose it as an experiment to really get him on the hook too, because you just know he'd be so embarrassed about the topic, bless him.

Maybe he cums too fast (virgin!Ford truthers good MORNING!!!!!!) and you're both looking for a way to draw things out a little more. Asking about his refractory period and timing it together to begin with, then doing stamina training with him via edging over the course of a few hours.... He gets you to test him with questions throughout to measure his ability to maintain composure so you can both see how long it takes each time for him to lose it.

And he's probably never had the luxury of taking his time, either. If he wanted to jerk off during his travels on the other side (and let's face it, it would have happened a few times) he had to do it quickly and efficiently in order to minimise the risk of getting caught or lowering his guard.

But now that he's home? You've all the time in the world. When you get the house to yourselves for a while (or even if he chose to lock you both away in the privacy of the lab) you can spend your entire evening together, leisurely exploring his wants and needs in such great detail that it's hard to convince him to take a break sometimes.

So you can ride him for hours, never letting him get further than the cusp, until he's just a total brainless drooling mess, flushed red and dishevelled and unable to do more than make those lovely little sounds while you tell him how good and sweet he is. Or have him jerk himself off to the same effect.... Fuck it, or why not peg/top him?

And it's not until he's teary eyed and utterly overwhelmed that you allow him to let go.

[lavendermin]

Thinking of jing yuan and how he has that fan club of people on the Luofu who have a huge crush on him and even buy photos of him. Probably have jing yuan photocards in their phone cases lmao.

They talk about him on online forums. The more recently popular debate on one of the forum threads is about him and his love life.

The grand question posed by user jing_yuan_lover420: What kind of lover do you think Jing Yuan is?

cw | nsfw, mdni, fem reader

The thread has well over 4,000 replies with different thoughts and speculations. Majority say he’s a vanilla sort of man. Gentle and sticks to making love to you rather than raw animalistic sex.

Very few argue that as a general maybe he’s a little rougher or is into some specific kinks.

But the only one who will ever know is you. The general’s doting wife who sits prettily on his lap as his hands roam your body. He orders you (begs you) to spit in his mouth, his eyes dazed as he pants against your lips. He looks utterly debauched and wrecked as your hips grind against him. Gets edged over and over until he’s begging incoherently.

And he looks so pretty like this, hands tied behind his back as he leans against the headboard, cock twitching as he’s completely at your mercy. His chest rises and falls quickly with the exertion, your lips pressing softly to the soft skin at the swell of his chest. You give one of his pecks a squeeze as your hips pick up the pace. He’s a vocal man in the privacy of your home. Anything but vanilla—something the public would never know.

Only you get to see this side of him. It’s thrilling.

[tkaulitzlvr]

i’ll be needing a part 2 of persistent pls🤭

PERSISTENT (2) - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you realise that you have pushed your limits after your antics at the club earlier, tom not holding back on showing you this once you both arrive home.

content: smut

a/n: i have no idea why so many people wanted a part two to persistent, but its been asked for in both my inbox and comments so i decided to do it so u guys can leave me alone🙄🙄, but yea hope this lives up to ur expectations (they better be low bc this is terrible💯)

the house is silent, my heavy feet trudging up the stairs, a small smile on my face as i anticipate what tom has on his mind - though i know deep down that i shouldn’t be excited. he wouldn’t go easy on me, not after how i had acted. in fact, the way his jaw remained clenched, eyes dark and cold, hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles began to turn white, veins prominent through them, if i had any sense within me, i would be scared - knowing that whatever unspoken words he is holding back would not be gentle ones, his actions bound to be even less forgiving. though i am far too focused on the pleasure he will bring me to consider the fact that he probably doesn’t plan on showing me any remorse, not at all regretting my attitude, even though i probably should.

when tom would get like this, so utterly infuriated with me, he wouldn’t hold back, switching from the gentleness he usually showed me in bed, often leading to me uttering the safe word that he had put in place for instances like this. when he would often act on impulse, unable to judge when it became simply too much, his anger driving him to be a little too reckless, the short word acted as a safety net, tom knowing that he had to stop, no matter how much part of him wanted to keep going, this his way of teaching me a lesson. it never seemed to work though, the thought of him being rough only turning me on, leading me to act this way in order to get this side out of him.

however, the new presence of this word meant that no matter how much i begged him to stop, his pace wouldn’t falter until i uttered the four letter word - blue. it didn’t matter how many tears ran down my cheeks, knuckles clutching the sheets so hard that they turned white, mouth open in silent screams, muttering words of discomfort, he would only speed up his movements, knowing that unless i said the word, i enjoyed the pain in some twisted way, not wanting it to stop despite the way my voice would say otherwise.

the room is quiet as i enter it, bed neatly made, cushions laid out in a specific pattern, sheets tucked perfectly into the sides, not a single crease visible on the white silk. it is a shame - i know tom too well to recognise that it won’t look that way for much longer, the bed likely to become a complete mess before he has even entered me. somehow i don’t flinch when the sound of the front door roughly opening echoes throughout the peace, diminishing it instantly. the loud slam that follows instead sends a surge of excitement through me, a knowing smirk on my face, not ready to let tom win just yet.

so i act nonchalant, calmly walking over to my vanity, humming incoherently, my hands grabbing a makeup wipe from the side, making contact with my skin as i begin to wipe my makeup off, starting with my foundation. i had noticed his footsteps making their way up the stairs the second his foot had made contact with the carpet, yet i tuned the sound out, continuing my innocent humming, acting like tom isn’t minutes, maybe seconds, away from fucking me so hard my vocal chords wouldn’t have the strength to whisper anymore, let alone sing to myself.

my eyes close as the makeup wipe glides over the skin, leaving a baby pink residue on the material, my face now bare besides from the red tinge still present on my lips.

“the fuck are you doing?” his low voice sounds through the room, my eyes turning to the reflection of the mirror, met with his large frame stood in the frame of the door. he had been stern with me since finding me outside the club, clearly thinking that his threats would scare me, not expecting to find me doing the exact opposite of what he had instructed, his expression more angry than ever.

“taking off my make up. i’ve told you it’s bad for me to sleep with it on, i don’t want my skin to break out.” i ramble, shrugging nonchalantly as i begin to stand up. my face is neutral, yet inside, my nerves tinge with satisfaction at the sight of tom’s jaw clenching, a loud groan leaving his lips.

he says nothing, my back to him as i begin to reach for the zipper of my dress, though i don’t get far. his own hands roughly tug mine away from my back, placing them harshly by my side as he spins me around, pushing my body against his and smashing his lips onto mine. the kiss is nothing short of desperate, rough and sloppy, tongues fighting for dominance, this enough to distract me from his quick steps that walk me into the wall, my back colliding harshly with it.

“you just don’t know when to fucking stop, do you?” he grunts, tugging his large black jacket from his frame, discarding it somewhere on the floor. his hands firmly grab my face, pulling it towards his own and reconnecting our lips, his teeth biting mine harshly, marvelling at the small whine of discomfort that leaves my lips, eager to cause me small drabs of pain - not enough to hurt me, but just the right amount to make me lose my stubbornness.

“jump.” he mutters against my lips, his hands hooking underneath my thighs in anticipation for my movement, yet i shake my head, much to his disbelief, a small smile tugging on my lips.

he pulls away, eyes narrowing once he picks up on my amusement, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

“you think this is funny, hm? come on, laugh again, i dare you.” he begins, studying the way the smile on my face slowly fades, caving in as he towers over me, one arm resting against the wall behind me. he nods his head, signalling me to show the same sense of entertainment i gained from disobeying him, though he doesn’t receive it, my mouth closing, eyes looking upwards into his own innocently.

“that’s what i fucking thought. y’know, i think you’ve forgotten your place. you really need me to remind you? ‘cause you know i will schatz.” he threatens, a satisfied grin on his lips once he realises how submissive i have become. i stay silent, a small hum leaving his lips as his hands grab the flesh of my thighs, hoisting me upwards. my back is flush against the wall, hips directly against his as he holds me up, fingers digging into the skin, my dress riding upwards slowly.

“fucking pathetic.” he whispers, his lips ghosting over mine, immediately noticing the way my head moves forwards slowly, silently begging for him to kiss me once again. for a second, he puts me out of my misery, capturing my lips in a soft kiss, humming into it slightly, acknowledging the way i quickly kiss back, unapologetically desperate for him. though he pulls away once he has hooked me in to the point that my kisses become faster, tugging on my lips slightly as he moves backwards, smiling sadistically when i whine in frustration, taking one hand and smoothly caressing my cheek, taunting me more than he ever has before.

he stays teasingly close, torturing me at this point, dipping his head even closer momentarily, dragging his thumb across my lips, collecting my saliva. he adores my weakness, loving how he is already in control, continuing to tease me despite the fact that he has won - he had the second he came to find me at the bar. we both knew that, yet i kept up my guard for too long, it’s presence now so thin it is almost non-existent.

“i don’t know why you try to act like you’re in charge. you and i both know you’ll be screaming my name in five minutes. you don’t have to hide it, i can read you like a book. you know it, you’re just humiliating yourself.” he chuckles lowly at my silence, dipping his head downwards as his lips make contact with my neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin. i tilt it to the side, giving him easy access.

my eyes fluttering shut once his lips touch the sensitive spot below my ear, i know that he has me under his control. and when he tears me away from the wall, walking over to the bed with my thighs still hooked around his waist, i don’t try to fight it anymore. he is frustrated, much more than he was when we entered the car, me disobeying him just once was enough for him to lend me no sympathy, this communicated once my back makes contact with the bed, roughly colliding with the soft mattress.

he climbs on top of me, my legs spreading instinctively to allow him within them, and closer to the place where i needed him most. sure, he would’ve found his way between them regardless of if i had obliged or not, but i decide to make part of it easier for him. his hands pull them apart even further, my dress now bunched up at my hips, lace panties on show for him.

“where’s that fucking attitude of yours now, hm?” he questions, studying the way my chest heaves up and down, the wet patch on my panties inches away from his face as he bends downwards, placing a soft kiss over the material, my hips bucking upward at the unexpected act. he grabs the flesh, forcing them back downwards, his head emerging from between my legs.

“don’t think i’m going easy on you ‘cause you’ve stopped acting like such a brat.” he states, hands roughly tugging my panties down as he speaks. “we’re past that point now. you’re getting fucked until you can’t use that mouth of yours to act out anymore.”

his words aren’t a threat, no, they are nothing short of a promise. sure, he says a lot of things when he is angry, but right now, each syllable that pours from his beautiful lips is nothing but the truth. and, whilst i couldn’t hide from the slight fear that habituated within me, the aching between my thighs overpowered it, throbbing desperately, needy for some sort of stimulation.

my silence is music to his ears. even though my acts of rebellion fuel his desire to ruin me, he much prefers me at his mercy, begging for him, my entire body his possession, his name written all over it, marking me as his own.

once my panties are somewhere on the floor, he moves to my dress, motioning for me to sit up, his calloused fingers attaching themselves to the zipper, tugging it downwards with such force the soft material rips. i gasp in disappointment, a tinge of anger rising within my chest, prompting the misbehaved side of me to make another appearance.

“are you fucking kidding me? that dress cost-”

“fucking shut up. i’ll get you a new one.” he mutters, tugging the material off of my body, leaving me completely naked beneath him, tom still completely dressed.

normally, i love his style, his baggy jeans and layers of t-shirts suiting him perfectly in most circumstances. yet right now, when i want nothing more than to feel his body against my own, it proves to be more of an inconvenience. he tugs the oversized denim downwards and off of his frame, his t-shirt soon following once he manages to tear it off. his dick prints firmly through his boxers, the outline prominent through the material, the thickness of it making the heat in my thighs unbearable as i move to clench them together, desperate for some sort of friction.

he shakes his head, roughly prying them apart with one hand, the other raking his boxers downward, his dick hitting his lower abdomen, the tip red, his erection so prominent it looks almost painful.

“all fours.” he orders, stroking himself a few times, watching as i turn around, positioning myself as he asked. he groans breathily from behind me, pumping himself a few times before i feel his tip meet my entrance.

he is unforgiving, thrusting his hips forward in one fast motion, moving his dick completely inside of me, not giving me any time to adjust as he usually would. i cry out in pain, my walls stretched out to the point that it is uncomfortable, the feeling of his tip prodding deep inside of me, combined with his thickness continuing to stretch me out creating a sensation that causes tears to build in my eyes.

“fuck- it’s too much…hurts.” i manage to let out, voice shaky as the angle doesn’t at all help my case. in fact it worsens it, my back arched in the air, arms flat against the bed, shaking as they try to hold me up, close to letting out.

“take it.” he says, cursing underneath his breath as he begins a fast pace, almost pulling out completely, before slamming back into me. “you want to act like a brat, i’ll treat you like one. you wanted this, don’t back out now.”

he knows that he is being rough, he can tell from the way low whimpers leave my lips with each quick movement of his hips. words almost inaudible, small utterances of discomfort muffled into the sheets, soon fading into screams of pleasure, cries of pure ecstasy, proving just how much he was right. and though i cannot see his face, my own smushed into the pillows, through his small groans, i can sense the sadistic smirk on his lips as he continues to pound into me.

“look at you, so fucking needy.” he taunts, his hand slowly reaching to grab my hair as i silently thank myself for tying it in a ponytail earlier. though now it is wild, wispy hairs falling from the hair tie, the ends ruffled slightly. yet he is able to take it easily, using it to pull my body upwards, back flush against his chest. he doesn’t make any attempt to be gentle, a loud yelp sounding from my lips as he ensures our bodies are pressed together, his fingers continuing to run through my hair.

“try to talk back now, like you did earlier on. you can’t, can you?” he questions, already knowing the answer. my mouth is wide open in a silent scream, head resting back against his shoulder as breathing consistently even proves difficult, tuning out everything besides from the sharp movements of his dick in and out of me. even his words are muffled, not registering in my head, this providing him with even more satisfaction, any communication soon melting into loud gasps, unable to muster any sort of response.

“doesn’t matter how many times i tell you. you’ll never learn, will you?” he scolds, his own voice shaky, often cut off with small groans, faltering especially when my walls clench around him. “takes me fucking you like this for you to shut that mouth of yours. you and your damn attitude.”

each time i clench around him, drawing his dick deeper inside of me, i wonder how much more i can take. god, i swear i can feel him inside my stomach, so full it is hard to breathe, the air, thick with the smell of sex, not helping my state. he seems to become more relentless, running his hands down my back, only to forcefully push my head back into the sheets, my high pitched moans now muffled into the silk, back arching subconsciously, each stroke of his cock inside of me making me more weak, swearing that i will collapse if he continues, struggling to hold my lower half up despite tom’s harsh grip on it.

his hand finds it way to my stomach, snaking around my waist to press downwards harshly, my mouth falling open at the sensation, able to feel every inch of him inside me, unable to hold back the loud cries that pour from my lips.

“fuck- oh my god!” i whine, lifting my head upwards from the sheets momentarily, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. my entire body trembles, the knot in my stomach tightening with each harsh thrust, his hips snapping against me at an even faster pace, his momentum somehow increasing.

“you feel it, hm?” he groans, fingers digging into the flesh of my hips, nails leaving marks in place of the soft skin. “sometimes you don’t realise how lucky you are. that you’re the only girl- fuck! you’re the only girl who gets to feel me inside of you, yet you can’t help yourself, can you? always have to act out…shit!”

the soft curses that spill from his lips become more frequent, this along with the feeling of his dick twitching inside of me letting me know that he is close too.

“i can’t- gonna cum!” i moan, pushing myself backwards so that i am closer to him, forcing him that little bit deeper inside of me. i writhe my hips, squirming slightly as my release is within arms reach, silently praying that he will put me out of my misery and let me cum - knowing that i am stupid to think that he is going to be so lenient.

“fucking hold it. you’re not cumming yet, you don’t deserve to.” he states, thrusting a few more times before his dick twitches one final time, ropes of his hot cum shooting into me. his nails dig into my ass as he kneads it, his release continuing to wash over him, a chorus of loud grunts leaving his lips.

now he is moving so slowly, riding out his high, teasing me by doing so, the slow strokes of his cock inside of me more unforgiving than his fast movements before. his tip, milking out the last drops of cum, now hits my g-spot repeatedly, each deep thrust sending me literally insane as it becomes impossible to hold my release.

“please- i can’t…i need to cum, can’t hold it.” my begging is almost pitiful to him, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he keeps moving in and out of me, despite the fact that his climax has been and gone.

“you wanna cum, hm?” he teases, pushing me upwards by my stomach so that my back is pressed against him once again. this time, his lips make contact with my neck, nibbling at the skin, his tongue running over it soon after, the feeling only making it more difficult as i continue to beg.

“mhm…please tom, let me cum. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” i plead, my words coming out as a low whine, tears cascading helplessly down my cheeks. he hums against me, the bass within his voice sending a shiver throughout my body.

“hmmm, are you really sorry, baby?” he teases, knowing that i am willing to say anything to let go of the knot in my stomach, on the verge of screaming at the top of my lungs in pure rage.

“mhm, yeah…i’m so sorry…i’ll be good from now on…so good! please, let me cum- shit!” my voice is hoarse, throat sore from the loud moans that have escaped from the back of it, completely worn out, beyond desperate to feel my release.

“go on baby, cum for me, c’mon.” he says, kissing my shoulder slowly as i nod my head vigorously, letting go of the tight knot in my stomach.

my head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut, swearing that i can see stars as my mouth falls open, a high-pitched moan escaping from it as i clench around him one last time, my release washing over me. i almost fall forwards at the feeling, so overwhelming that i lose the strength to hold myself upright. tom collapses with me, still thrusting in and out from above me, fucking his load deeper inside of me, his chest heaving up and down as he does so.

his movements slow down as i sigh in relief, completely spent. however he pulls out of me momentarily, only to flip me on my back in one swift movement, quickly bottoming out inside of me once again.

i cry out at the sensation, unable to handle the feeling of his sharp thrusts, overly sensitive from being teased for so long before.

“i can’t take it…it’s too much!” i whine, already a moaning mess, yet this time, the pain overtakes the pleasure, coursing within me no matter how much i attempt to drown it out, his rough strokes stretching me out so much that it soon becomes uncomfortable.

“yes, you can.” he states, holding my arms above my head, his hands keeping my wrists in place. he is adamant on ensuring that i learn my lesson, and, the discomfort that overtakes any other feeling silently confirms that i will never act out again, struggling to stay still as my entire body squirms.

“please…i can’t…”

“not stopping until you learn that you don’t get to act like a fucking brat and not get punished for it.” he says, circling his hips a little, moving in and out ever so slowly, reducing the speed of his thrusts, instead focusing on the small whines that he elicits from my lips at the change in pace, noticing the way my face contorts in pleasure.

the slight change in angle allows him to press directly against my spot, rather than brushing past it with each deep stroke, another release soon building up within me, the overstimulation meaning it doesn’t take much to take me there. and, i can tell that he is getting close too, his breathing becoming fast and heavy, hands squeezing the flesh of my thighs as he uses them to thrust in and out of me.

he fills me up once again, teeth sinking into his lip as he does so, a restricted whine emitting from the back of his throat, the sudden pressure triggering my own climax. my hands find their way to his biceps, maintaining a tight hold as i squeeze them harshly, chest heaving up and down, unable to handle the slow rocking of his hips. he rides out his high, before picking up his pace once again, clearly looking for a third round, seemingly unaffected by his two previous orgasms. he is pushing my limits and he knows it, watching the way my face twists, forehead lined with sweat.

his head falls backwards, eyes fully closed, mouth slightly open, and, if he wasn’t so lost in his own satisfaction, i am sure that he would be teasing me somehow, reminding me how pathetic i look underneath him, or scolding me for my antics earlier on. though he saves his energy, instead using it to build up his pace, tuning out the sound of my small whines.

“stop- i can’t anymore!” i beg, tears rolling down my cheeks, my voice small and shaky, legs trembling uncontrollably.

this time, he knows that i mean it, when i take my hand, taking it firmly, with as much strength as i can muster, against his chest, attempting to push him away. but, despite this realisation, he keeps going, not showing any intention of stopping, not until i say the word. yet it is on the tip of my tongue, holding back from saying it just yet, enjoying the pain in some messed up way. though i know that i am spent, unable to do anything but exhale rapidly, just able to shape together the word “blue.”

his eyes shoot open, movements coming to an immediate stop, face softening once he registers my state - eyes bloodshot, body shaking, lips wavering as they attempt to hold back the sobs dangerously close to sounding from them.

“shit- fuck baby, i’m sorry, are you okay?” he rambles, quickly climbing off of me, wrapping his arms around my small frame and pulling me into him, rubbing my back comfortingly.

“i’m fine it’s just- too much.” i whisper, my voice barely audible, throat raw. he notices this straight away, pulling me closer into his embrace, planting soft kisses into my hair, mumbling small apologies into it every few seconds, listening to my breathing as it eventually slows, my body relaxing into him, his hold on me making it easy to fall into a deep sleep, tom’s soft snores soon following.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[adonneniel]

Ok, after finishing Veilguard and sleeping on it, my final impression remains disappointment and frustration. Spoilerific thoughts beneath the cut. Long post. Maybe a bit ranty/incoherent in parts, but I don't feel like going back to edit.

Positives, in no particular order:

The game is beautiful, even on (mostly) medium settings. Despite wishing for a few more wavy options, the hair is perfection and I honestly can't complain.

On a related note, the character creator is amazing. Customizing body & face tattoos! Height and weight sliders!!! I wish the bust and glute sliders went a further, but whatever. I can live. I like that we can import our characters on a new save, and I hope they patch in an option to do that with the Inquisitor as well.

Mechanically it was fun to play

THE BLOOD OF ARLATHAN QUEST. Absolute perfection. Everything I wanted out of this game. I felt hopeless and overwhelmed. My skin crawled. My gut clenched. The horrors of the Venatori were on full display & served as an excellent parallel to the rise of irl facism. And Solas an Elgar'nan exchanging insults inside my head?? I was giddy. I felt the centuries of compounding animosity mixed with grudging respect. I felt utterly out of my depths and it was wonderful. (And LMAO at the one dude fangirling over Rook)

The siege at Weisshaupt was pretty good too. I like failing. It makes the stakes feel real.

I loved the fresh take on Necromancy. Like, yessssss, make it beautiful and romantic and haunting! It's such a interesting departure from necromancy = gross & evil. They even made it mesh with spirit lore and kept the question of an afterlife alive.

Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain's relationship. I was not expecting them to genuinely care for one another. It did a good job humanizing them & helped balance out the "muahahaha evil" vibe.

I actually didn't mind the magitech-ness. It makes sense that the ancient elves perfected magic to that point, and Tevinter really felt like a knock off version built on the elven empire's bones. It still looked fantasy overall.

I like most of the lore reveals. They were well foreshadowed and, no, I don't get the impression that they just decided to randomly make all the popular theories true. Even if that's the case for a few, they still make sense. (Though I can understand why people might be let down by all "the elves did it!!")

Fighting alongside Solas at the end was fun. Directing my companions during the final fight was fun. I liked that some of them could die (and did--poor Harding)

Solas in general honestly. I didn't find him out of character, just more openly desperate than he was in Inquisition. I also don't hate his dynamic with Mythal like some people, though I understand why it's divisive.

All that said, the negatives still outweigh the positives.

The writing felt timid. Like they were scared to offend anyone so they just decided to ignore the messy parts of their lore and/or hide it behind codex entries that most players probably don't even read.

All those lore drops and we barely had time to sit with them or deal with cultural consequences. Especially when religion is such a huge part of culture? You can't just disprove it and expect people to move on in a few conversations. The Dalish especially should be a wreck.

Tevinter was a disappointment after all the build up we've gotten over last three games. And no, I don't accept southern propaganda and events happening off screen as an excuse. It just reeks of lazy writing. Dorian and Mae's political party failed. Fenris and Dorian are primary sources. Tevinter is fucked up and we should've seen it explicitly on screen, not just limited to a few nasty individuals and codex entries. Instead of a racist, mage run slave state, we got a generic corrupt city with the unique bits alluded to. If you want to argue that it's just because we were in dock town, so obviously we wouldn't be seeing the decadent mage aristocracy...that's just an excuse. The writers didn't have to make that choice.

Wtf did they do to the Crows??? The assassins built on brutality and child slavery are now just being presented as freedom fighters??? Don't try to tell me Zevran reformed things behind the scenes. That's just another excuse for lazy writing (not to mention that he's dead in some player's worldstates). They didn't even deal with Lucanis' abusive upbringing! And it was right there!

The Lords of Fortune are a joke. Pirates Against Cultural Appropriation. Seriously? Combined with that codex entry trying to convince us that their fighting pit is purely volunteer based and death free?? Nah. I don't buy it. They were ultimately useless to the plot and even to the worldbuilding. I learned absolutely nothing about Rivain that hasn't already been told to us in past games (and they didn't even take the chance to show us those things! We just got an empty beach and a few background npcs.)

Tbh this all just feels like another symptom of the game's timid writing. We're good people who only ally with other good people. There's no "enemy of my enemy is my friend". There's no faction with ulterior motives. There's not even a political quagmire we have to navigate to get the Good Ones on our side. The closest we get is the First Warden. And tbh the Wardens are the only faction I felt was truly well written and well integrated into the overall plot. The Mourn Watch was interesting, but they mostly did their own thing over in the corner.

God, don't even get me started on the elves. No existential dilemmas when their gods are running rampant. Even the major god revelations happened off screen! The Veil Jumpers already knew! Lazy lazy lazy.

AND. AND they somehow projected their white guilt onto the most persecuted minority in Thedas! I wanted to crawl out of my skin every time someone apologized for what their people (the gods) did to the world. And to make it worse, they barely, barely, showed anti-elf racism on screen. A few throwaway lines are laughable in the face of that. As a jew--one of the groups DA elves are inspired by--I'm insulted and disgusted.

And someone pointed out that a Crow codex used the phrase "Never Again" in relation to the Dales? Get that phrase out of your mouth, Bioware.

In a similar vein, their treatment of the Antaam reeked of racism and orientalism, even moreso than usual. Big brutes yelling in a scary language with artificially low voices?? Barely dressed? We don't even get to talk with one until the end of the game? Other people have explained it better than me, so I'll leave it at this.

"Why do you want racism in your game? Are you secretly a racist edgelord in real life? Do you get off on people calling you a knife-ear? Do you just want an excuse to be a piece of shit?"

NO. I want good writing. I want realism. If you're going to include racism in your worldbuilding (which Dragon Age does), you have to own it. You have to deal with it. You can't just sweep it under the carpet because you want to avoid more controversy. The absence in Veilguard makes it look worse. You can't pat yourself on the back for angering the anti-woke brigade while perpetuating your own racist tropes. Do the writers even know they're being racist, or do they think it's all ok because the player isn't allowed to be fantasy racist?

Taash's story is a good example. Why the fuck are we put in charge of deciding their culture for them? Why is it tied to their gender? As a cis person I won't comment on the gender bits (I've heard conflicting opinions), but the culture aspect is handled terribly. Seriously. What the actual fuck, Bioware?

The companion situation has been beat to death, but I mostly agree with the criticism that everything is too HR-friendly. And I honestly can't believe those Taash/Emmrich and Harding/Emmerich intervention scenes actually made it through editing. I felt like a fucking preschool teacher lecturing children on how to play nicely. bad bad bad

I don't, however, think the companions are awful. They just kinda bored me. Or maybe not bored, but...didn't grab me? I like some of them, but I don't love them. There's no one I latched onto that makes me go feral. But I can accept that it's a matter of preference. I'm glad some people are happy, and I don't mean that sarcastically.

Maybe I'd feel differently if the game wasn't marketed as "found family"?

More personal preference: I don't like Rook, and I don't like their relationship with the companions. It feels too sterile & corporate, and Rook feels simultaneously too blank and too defined. And the defined bits of their personality are not for me. Dialogue options weren't diverse enough in feel.

LOL at not allowing the player to asshole options, but then the best we can give Harding is "Haha, no idea what you're talking about but good for you. Bye."

Also the game couldn't seem to decide whether my Rook was Dalish or not? According to the mirror I'm not, but then Rook outright says she's Dalish later in the game... Which is it, Bioware? Which is it?

THEY DELETED SOUTHERN THEDAS OFFSCREEN.

The illuminati secret ending is an awful decision. Way to take agency away from some of the more interesting antagonists. And this was obviously a retcon? There was no buildup to this. At most they were toying with the concept in DA:I, which is when the Executors were introduced.

It's hard to think of this game as a love letter to the fans when these last two points feel like a huge middle finger to everything that came before.

Yeah. Just...yeah.

Disappointment and frustration. All the building blocks for a great game are there, but they just...didn't come to fruition.

I might do another playthrough, but I also I might just take what I like from the lore and go back to previous games + my silly crossover fanfic. And BG3. That obsession was only just taking root when DATV came out, and I didn't get a chance to sit with it.

I'm sad.

[calicobigamy]

I can't be only one, right...?

I wanted to finish the game and then write this post but I gave up. I put in 100 plus hours and just could not go on once I got into act three. Maybe no one will hear my pitiful cry from the void, but I must scream for the sake of my sanity.

I was completely and utterly disappointed by Baldur's Gate 3. 

It had huge maps like an open world game yet I had no desire to explore the settings despite their beauty. It had hours of dialogue as an RPG would and yet I found myself skipping characters' responses. The game mechanic structure was inspired by DnD, a story-telling game dictated by some rules, lucky rolls and the extent of players' imagination, yet I was strong-armed into fighting impossibly stacked battles. A story-telling game dependent on the players’ attachment to their and their teammates' characters and yet this game lacked any kind of narrative consistency or depth of feeling. 

Larian wanted to make an open world RPG, based off of DND mechanics and somehow did the worst version of all three. The studio touts that Baldur’s Gate 3 has 17,000 possible endings and 2 million words, but to what end? What did this game have to say about what happens when people rise to the challenge and become heroes despite their circumstances or fall into the dark and become the monsters they were supposed to fight? What did it suggest might happen when fate deals you a bad hand but in doing so also helps you find true friends or love with the other? Ultimately, nothing. 

BG3 is so large that it ends up being incoherent. No writing or game structure decisions were made to keep the narrative tight and on theme. It urges players to choose a moral alignment, but most decisions, good or bad, seem to end up having little effect in the end. To play the game at all you have to resort to save scumming and that in turn deflates the possible impact of so many plot points of the narrative overall. 

Forcing players to save scum in order to progress through the game is terrible design in general. Statistically speaking the bosses make impossible critical hits again and again. I was playing in the game’s “casual mode” and found myself struggling to get through confrontations with bosses that were at a lower level than my own. If you are reading and thinking oh well you are probably not using tactics or spells well, etc., let’s do a little experiment…

Take your d20 (https://rolladie.net/roll-a-d20-die if you don’t have one in person). In the third act of BG3 I had an AC of 13 as a sorcerer with 100 plus HP. Roll your d20 ten times or more. How many times out of ten would your character have gotten to hit mine successfully? Unless an enemy is extremely lucky it should be unlikely that an enemy could hit my character every turn they get. And even if they do they would have to roll for damage which is only a single d6, d8, d10 or d12 plus a modifier at lower levels depending on your class. Again an enemy would have to have an extremely lucky roll to hit me every turn AND deal significant damage. During an in person DnD session that is just a bad night for my character. In a video game on casual mode that is significantly suspicious. 

So what you might say. You've made and enjoyed the fanart, memes and etc. You got your $61 worth of playtime. So many other people were fine with the game, what is your problem? 

I love video games. They blend so many artforms and tell stories in ways never done before. It is a medium unique to our current century and when historians look back they will view video games as an insight to our culture. 

It frustrates me to no end that Baldur’s Gate 3 is considered the next gold standard. Too many games have done open world and RPGs in a fantasy setting far better for Larian (Swen Vincke) to have made the design and writing choices they did with BG3. There are so many podcasts and shows that have written better stories through the DnD format. I am embarrassed for the medium as an artist and frustrated as a player. Players and the industry deserve better than to have artists, actors, engineers etc. burn themselves out creating maximalist behemoths like this game. A game that is beautiful but basically unplayable, narratively, nihilistic and incoherent. 

[danosrosegarden]

kinktober idea: edward nashton wearing panties and being fucked in the hole like a little sissy pillow princess, m or f reader works ^_^

comfort zone - edward nashton x fem!reader headcanons (NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

kinktober 2024: 2/31

{contents ♡ strap usage, teasing reader, praise}

{word count ♡ ~700}

♡ the secret felt like rusted grime he couldn't quite wash away from the pads of his fingers. if he'd take a second to think about it logically, edward would come to the conclusion that it was harmless. he just liked to play dress up, that's all. who was he hurting by rifling through your drawers while you were out? but logic and clear thinking wasn't part of the equation in moments like these. it was just sweat-soaked skin and panting. swiveling hips and a head thrown back in ecstasy.

♡ what really made the sizzling hot shame sear into his skin was that reaction. it was bad enough that he spent his free time trying on your underwear. it was even worse how much he loved it.

♡ he liked dragging his fingers along the small satin bow sewn near the top. he liked the feeling of the delicately woven lace laid against his skin. he liked the pretty colors, the pretty patterns, the pretty textures. goosebumps prickle on his skin each time he pulls the garments over himself. already hard, already leaking. he tries to skirt around staining the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care much when he's rubbing himself through the lace and chewing down on his lip to stifle the whimpers. god, it's so good. and it's utterly disgusting.

♡ he's panicking and nearly reduced to tears when you catch him one evening. he thought you'd be out for longer! no, no, don't look! he's sorry. he's so, so sorry. he understands if you never want to see him again. he's sorry. he's sorry.

♡ it was almost as if you could hear the woosh of his frenzied heart as you walk over to where he's sat on your bed and grab hold of his hands.

♡ you say there's nothing to worry about, nothing to feel ashamed over. he doesn't believe it for a second. his eyes are filling with glossy, humiliated hot tears and he's shaking his head with shame. you're trying to let me down easy. i know you think i'm weird. just go. that's what you want, i know it.

♡ well, if he's going to be a little bitch about it, you suppose you have no choice but to prove he doesn't need to fret.

♡ you've toyed around with the strap before, and he went wild for it every time. you liked to see him like that, so eager and open. so ready to beg for more, please, i need more. the adorable ways he'd try negotiating: i've been so good for you! i've been your good boy. please, please, i'll take whatever you give me. it nearly sent you over the edge, watching him crumble into incoherent pieces. all for you.

♡ you're yanking him out of his comfort zone by making him keep the panties on, just tugging them down and out of the way as you slide into him and feel him deflate with pleasure. you're aware that it's probably frightening. but his slack jaw doesn't look like resistance. his hands desperately gripping at the sheets don't feel like apprehension. and the high, quivering whines spilling from his mouth certainly don't sound like the safe word.

♡ it's undeniably thrilling to watch him work for it. you liked to tease a bit, occasionally slowing your hips and listening to his frustrated groans with a wicked smile.

♡ he didn't even have to form words anymore--his body begged for him. the trembling thighs, the arching of his back. he was delectably malleable.

♡ he melts entirely when you speed back up and fuck into him harder. aren't you a pretty boy! that's my beautiful boy. so good for me. my good little slut, aren't you? yeah, that's right. so worked up for me. can you hold on just a liiitle longer, honey?

♡ one day he wouldn't fight you on his place in your heart anymore. he'd stop squirming away from his dirty little secrets like they were something to feel burning hot shame over instead of letting himself indulge in them with you. until then, there was just no choice but to show him how deeply he was wanted. carnivorously desired. lusted after. hungered for.

[wantingsobad]

escapism pt. 1 | c.bc x reader (a,f)

masterlist

pairing : bang chan x reader (y/n)

summary : a drunken night spent out with your friends leads to a half-conscious tumble into the arms of your close friend, chris. now what else is he supposed to do when you come to him in shambles except do his best to put you back together?

content : tears, drunk y/n, bff!chris, idol au, nothing wild yet

word count : 1.3k

"drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex

i was looking for a man who was on the same page"

The rough motion of the taxi cab cruising down the crumbling city streets was wild enough to make your stomach feel like flipping inside out.

The streetlights and convenience store signs passed by in a blur, adding to the incredible dizziness that made you want to just close your eyes and sleep it all away.

When fumbling for your phone, being utterly taken aback by the brightness of your screen, you give your friends who you'd been out with a quick incoherent text of where you are, mainly clarifying (or an attempt at least) that you had not been kidnapped.

y/n : guus donr worrry ab me im in s cab too see chruss. hve fun!

Well damn. You thought you could be more literate when drunk out of your mind. I guess not.

This night out had not been planned, but a sudden break-up with your boyfriend easily cleared you and your friends' schedules for a needed "girls' night" (aka getting wasted so you can forget).

You don't really know what prompted your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend as of 7 hours ago, to break up with you, but you know damn well that you will not sit there and rot in your apartment.

You and your friends had then come to the conclusion that the best option for tonight's break-up-recovery plans was the clearest option.

Get drunk. Get laid. Think about it later.

Sadly, only part one of this master plan had been played out. You got so sick of the strobing lights and disgusting men at the clubs that you needed to get away from it all, but going back to the apartment you shared with your ex was also not an ideal place to stumble into, not knowing what side hoe he probably chose to bring over in your absence. So, you are now finally pulling up to the apartment of your closest guy friend, Chris, or Chan, as your friend group called him.

The exact rationale for choosing Chris's apartment as your safe place for the night is unknown to you. It might just be because his house was close to the bar, or that none of your other friends were home, or maybe the hope that he would care for you with hugs and cuddles.

Your relationship with Chris is interesting, to say the least. Many bystanders would be likely to think that you two are just mutual friends, but the inner members of your friend group see you two as inseparable when you are all together, acting as the mother and father of your children friends.

You two had some weird romantic tension when you were a few years younger, but after you got into your last relationship, it all seemed to instantly vanish, leaving you two as simply a platonic, dynamic duo. You don't exactly know why it hurt a little to feel that change in Chris' demeanour, but it did in the moment.

Maybe even a little pain still lingers now.

You grab the handful of items you had with you at the bar, including the pair of heels you were wearing that had now been ditched, leaving you barefoot and walking your way up the pavement to the inside of the apartments.

The walk to his front door is easy, only leaving you to stumble a few times when the carpet seemed to be bumped up in a few places, or maybe that was just your feet moving incorrectly. Who knows.

You leave a combination of knocks on his door, continuously knocking, letting it get heavier every time until the door swings open to show a confused Chan, who looks like he has been working on some music project as his headphones are still hung around his neck.

"Y/n? What are you doing here- are you okay?" Chan says at the immediate recognition of you not being a stranger at his door, ushering you inside as he looks over your figure for any signs as to why you are on his doorstep at a quarter till midnight.

"The lights were too bright at the clubs. Just wanna hang out," you manage to get out with no slurs in speech, but a little stumble you have when trying to get past him in hopes of laying on the sofa tells Chan that you are not sober right now.

He puts out his arm quickly to stop you from falling, circling it around your waist to help you safely get into the living room. You feel a burning surge through your body at his innocent touch, but it doesn't feel like the usual drunk heat.

"Just go lay down for a minute, yeah? I'll get you some water," he looks toward you as he talks, settling you into the couch surrounded by a big, comfy blanket. He then waits for you to give some sort of acknowledgement that you heard anything he said, earning a nod from you that makes him crack an endearing smile at how you looked so content, snuggling into the sofa.

You then sit with Chris on the couch after he quickly gets some water from the fridge, neither of you speaking as you take large gulps from the unnecessarily large bottle of water (like, who drinks this much water…)

You feel happy right now. You have everything you need right here. A couch, a blanket, and a Christopher. Except, you get hit with the reminder of your ex-boyfriend, stirring up those uncomfortable emotions that made you decide to drink them away tonight.

Apparently, that drinking away did not work very well, probably making this even worse because you start to cry, your body shaking as the pools of tears drain down your cheeks.

Chris takes immediate notice of the couch shaking beside him, reaching over to keep a tender arm across your shoulders. He hesitantly says, “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen tonight with your friends?”

His voice was nothing but comfort as you decided to just tell him everything.

“Chris, he broke up with me.”

Then, his face dropped not exactly to one of sympathy but to some twisted form of relief. Nonetheless, he held you into a tighter hug, letting you cry into his arms while leaving reassuring pats and shushes as you continued.

You finally regain some sort of composure to tell him the rest of the story, explaining how your boyfriend sprung this on you out of nowhere, pulling out the “it’s not you, it’s me” line, utterly tearing your self-esteem down to the lowest point because you know it’s because of you. Because you weren’t good enough, you didn’t show him enough, you didn’t sleep with him enough. The insecure thoughts are the only thing plaguing your mind after his cheap excuse for breaking up with you.

For this, you openly tell Chris in your drunken state, “Why doesn’t he just love me? I don’t understand what I did wrong. Why am I not good enough for him?”

“Stop it, Y/n.”

His suddenly stern voice piques your attention, raising your blotchy face up from where it was implanted into his shoulder. His face is suddenly stoic, a complete contrast from the comforting love he was just showing you. There is still love; it’s just a different kind.

“Do not ever say that about yourself. You are beyond perfect, and your boyfriend is a piece of shit for this. I mean, I have always kind of resented him, but the way he makes you feel like this out of the blue makes me more than angry. You are everything anyone could ask for, and I need you to understand that whatever his decision was, it wasn’t because of you.”

The tears aren’t able to start coming back down before you grab Chan into the strongest hug you can manage, now sobbing into his moistened shirt. The words of affirmation and care flood out of his mouth into your ears, crushing the self-deprecating terrors of before. His own reassurance and love for you outweighs whatever your shitty boyfriend showed you. Chan was the only person you wanted to care for you.

The only person you wanted to love.

But he can’t know that.

a/n : hey guys... sorry for being absolutely MIA for a month. i have been so swamped with work and classes that I lost my entire urge to write, but i am back and better than other. i have been working on this and the second part for it, also creating the full plot line for fangirl. requests are open as always and ily all - eb

[collidescopeeyes]

would you be willing to do an f!reader and an unbound thresh (cinematic one) HCs about a researcher of the Shadow Isles (some sort of kind priestess type) who somehow managed to capture his interest bc her soul is unable to be caged and he's intrigued by her fearlessness...

Thresh with researcher!reader

- From the moment you meet it is the world's most intense game of cat and mouse, except you're both convinced you're the cat

- Studying the effects of the black mist on souls is your life's work–it’s an utterly fascinating and unique form of magic and if it can be understood, maybe it can be cured. That being said, studying it isn't exactly easy. The Isles are dangerous at the best of times and much of it has been ravaged by time–you’ve reached a dead end with simple observational means and were hoping you could learn more about the mist and what caused it by speaking to the shades bound to it. Some of them predate the mist after all–surely one of them has something to point you in the right direction?

- Your first encounter with Thresh is actually before he's unbound. Most souls you encounter are either violently insane, largely incoherent or generally uncooperative, so meeting one that can not only hold a coherent conversation but one so knowledgeable about the mist is like a dream come true! The fact that he has a flaming skull for a head and you're pretty sure his lamp is screaming is a secondary concern, you're getting good info here.

- He's very amused by your enthusiasm and probably indulges your curiosity far more than he normally would–it’s pretty rare he meets anyone who doesn't run screaming (which is fair, he’ll acknowledge that). You're the most entertaining thing he's seen in centuries, and waiting around for the Sentinels to kill Viego has been so terribly boring–so when you start packing up your notes and making to leave…well, he can't very well have that, can he?

- Honestly the worst part about having your soul ripped out of your body by ethereal chains is that it really disrupts your train of thought, and you had a great question about interactions with restoration magic you were about to ask. You have a brief moment of looking at your own body, and then there's a flash of light and you're back to normal, at which point you hurriedly thank him for the interview and hightail it the fuck out of there.

- Thresh meanwhile is stunned. Your soul was brilliant, blindingly radiant in a way he's never seen before. Trying to lash it to his lamp was like trying to hold oil with water–it just couldn't find purchase, and by the time he realised what had happened you were already gone. He gives chase, or course, but you survived this far for a reason and you're soon out of his reach, bound as he is to the Isles

- He's obsessed. He wants nothing more than to take that perfect, beautiful soul of yours and bleed it until it's as black and twisted as his. He stalks the Isles hoping to run into you again, but no such luck–still, he's had plans in motion to free himself from the Isles for a long time, and now he just has to wait. He can be very patient, when he wants to be.

- Meanwhile, you're an ocean away writing a dissertation on the Shadow Isles and the metaphysical properties of the mist, having a great time.

- He finds you in a library after he's unbound by complete coincidence, but he is elated. You don't recognize him, of course–he looks human, and you're too focused on your research to bother with some random stranger. Low-key he tries to charm you at first, but you're just like ‘sir I'm trying to work here’ so he has to reintroduce himself. Immediate fascination from you–how does a soul get free of the mist? Is he actually human now, or is it a shapeshifting thing? And oh, actually, could he finish explaining the properties of the waters of life? Your last conversation kind of got cut short when he tried to stab you. Oh no you're not upset about it, most souls you spoke to tried to stab you at the start of the conversation, he was actually very polite!

- He laughs so hard you get kicked out of the library. You suggest coffee instead. He agrees. He doesn't even need to eat or drink.

- His plan is to feed you tidbits of information about the Isles and the mist to lull you into a false sense of security and eventually tempt you into his clutches–after all, if he can't imprison you by force, he could chip away at you until you went to your demise willingly and unwittingly, and he relishes the challenge.

- Meanwhile you're thinking ‘this is great, I'm learning so much! He's definitely going to try and kill me at some point but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it!’

- Normally the idea of breaking someone's spirit is satisfying to him, but the longer he spends with you the more the idea loses its shine–after all, you're so much more entertaining when you're lively like this, and the thought of your eyes going dull and hopeless like all of his other victims makes him oddly disappointed. But still, human lives are so short, and you've become rather dear to him–the best place for someone as special as you would be his lamp, where he can keep your soul safe and enjoy your company for all eternity~

- There's something fundamentally wrong with this man if you couldn't tell. He's possessive, obsessive, and he thinks morals are an unfortunate condition other people suffer from. He has no delusions about what sort of man he is: in life, he was essentially exiled to guarding the vault in total isolation purely because members of his order found him off-putting–there’s something about him that's just Wrong, and he knows that. There was no hiding it when he was human, much less with this veneer of humanity he now wears–but for whatever reason, you don't flinch away from him. Poor sweet girl that you are, you seem to be under the impression he's a person. But still, if you decide you hate him, you probably won't talk to him anymore and that would be a tragedy. Ergo, he’s trying to be Good so you trust him, but he only abstractly understands what Good is meant to be. Surely if he only targets people who deserve it that counts? He doesn't even kill them! He just, y'know, traps them in his lantern and subjects them to untold horrors for a little bit, but he lets them go after and in his experience that seems to scare people pretty straight. He's doing a public service! He's practically a saint!

- Low-key he's stalking you. Like he just shows up where you happen to be whenever he's not off doing crimes against humanity, but honestly in the grand scheme of things it's pretty low on the list of concerns–after all, he's a thousand year old immortal wraith, and while you're pretty sure he's not planning on murdering you anymore, his disregard for social conventions that aren't immediately useful to him ranks somewhere between ‘maybe we can work on a a version of our relationship where I don't get trapped in your lamp for all eternity?’ and ‘when I put you in the special thanks section of my publication, do I just call you Thresh?’ on the list of conversations you ought to have with him.

- He can be incredibly charismatic when he wants to be, so to you he comes off as very gentlemanly if a bit melodramatic. Overprotective like you would not believe, but he generally cedes to your requests and it's sort of endearing how invested he is in staying in your good graces. Weirdly intense at times, but he's an ancient undead wearing the thin veneer of a man so you figure that's to be expected. Still, he's very polite and considerate, and while he's definitely trying to con you into some kind of supposedly benevolent eternal damnation, he's also helping you proofread your paper, so y'know it's actually a pretty decent deal.

[kitthepurplepotato]

MWRMI PART 9

Week 5 - Mama Midoriya 🥦

Summary: Y/N wants to eat pancakes. Mama Midoriya must be a mind reader because she comes over with some. Inko becomes the biggest ReaderDeku shipper.

Warnings: might have 1 swear word in it. That’s it.

First Part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Things are a little bit awkward.

You haven’t seen your green nerdy roommate for a few days, which have given you the perfect opportunity to REALLY think about this new situation.

Your conclusion is…

Drumbeats, please.

Nothing have changed. You are just overthinking. That’s it. Yes.

With that in your mind, you make your way out of your room to make some fucking pancakes for yourself, because you deserve it. Every day can be a pancake day. It’s important to treat yourself sometimes.

Why are you so focused on those pancakes, anyway? Oh, yeah, to ignore your growing feelings toward your unreachable roommate. Great.

“Good morning, honey!” A lovely voice of an older, probably middle aged lady comes across the room and you almost scream incoherently but decide against it after taking a good look at the fluffy woman; she has green hair and green eyes, just like Midoriya, the only difference between the two is the lack of curls and the lady’s hair is a hint darker than your favorite roomie’s. Is she a Midoriya? She needs to be, otherwise you have a trespasser in your house. Fuck, you are terrible at self defense, not even questioning the stranger in your flat, but bruh, she has big, green doe eyes. Everyone knows you can’t say no to green doe eyes.

“Good morning! Midoriya is not here today.” You smile at the woman who only nods understandingly and puts a cup of freshly made latte in your hand. There is whipped cream on the top and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Wow.

You can’t help but look at her with stars in your eyes, adoration clearly written all over your tired features as Izuku’s mom moves back to the kitchen and opens up a box full of FUCKING PANCAKES. How did she know?! Is this her quirk? Knowing when people want to eat pancakes?!

Are there any people around with quirks like that? They probably got a lot of shit for having such a useless quirk, not like you have any rights to judge with your quirkless ass.

If this is a fanfiction, the writer needs to sort her shit out and stop reflecting her raging ADHD on you. You have enough problems already, all these random thoughts just make the situation even worse.

Okay, let’s focus.

“That’s fine honey, I just wanted to bring you two some snacks! I’m Inko Midoriya, Izuku’s mother, nice to meet you! I heard a lot about you!” The woman smiles; a blush spreads on your face from the knowing look Inko gives you. What did he tell her exactly?!

“I-I was actually craving pancakes today.” You mumble right before you realize you didn’t even say your name yet. How can you be so rude?! “Ahh sorry, I’m Y/N! Nice to meet you too!” You stutter awkwardly, trying to maintain an eye contact to not be rude, but it’s really hard, to be honest.

“Good to know you have an actual name, Izuku calls you Sweet Pea all the time, I was actually wondering if you were real at all.” The woman giggles while she puts a few pancakes on a plate for you. Your face must be the shade of crimson at this point if the heat of your face is anything to go by.

“Ahh, yes, it’s an inner joke.” You mumble, ashamed. You need to tell Midoriya to not tell others about that nickname. It’s definitely not something you would call a friend. Maybe you SHOULD talk to Midoriya about this whole situation, make him aware of his actions… but then you wouldn’t get any more sofa cuddles. Or good night kisses… Ahh, fuck that. Let’s just go with it for now. You are already completely, utterly wrecked emotionally so it really doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late to change things now when you are so used to the way he embraces you after a long shift. It will hurt later when he finds someone better but it wouldn’t hurt any less now so you might as well just enjoy it until it lasts.

“Izuku was always like that.” Inko says dreamily. “He always gives his closest people a silly nickname. When Katsuki and him became best friends he started to call him Kacchan. Katsuki hated it so much, but eventually gave in; us Midoriyas love people in a different way than others, and giving people nicknames is our specialty.” The woman giggles, her voice happy and airy. “I’m just a little bit surprised how quickly you became one of his favorites, but I’m glad.” She smiles with unshed tears in her eyes. “You know, he never had anyone, just his hero friends. He never came home with a lady… or a boy, I’m not judging!” She adds shyly. “That boy… he always does everything for others but never stops to look for what he wants. When he opened his agency, he bought me a house and sent me enough money every month to be able to live stress free without the need of having 3 different jobs. I had to beg him to get a proper flat instead of the tiny one without the window; he sent all his money to me in the beginning so he couldn’t move on with his life at all. Thankfully, Katsuki called me and we managed to make him understand we both want him to think about himself first, but it took us weeks.” The woman sighs. “I just want him to be happy, you know? I know having someone next to you has nothing to do with being happy but I feel like that boy could thrive with the right person next to him. I want him to have someone who finally makes him do what he wants and not what he thinks others want. Ahh, I’m rambling, ain’t I.” Inko scratches her head the same way Izuku does when he’s ashamed. These two are so similar it’s almost scary.

“No, I absolutely know what you mean.” You put your fork down for a second, even though the pancake is so bloody amazing it’s really hard not to keep eating it. “On the first week, he went back to his agency to shower to not freak me out. I told him off for not coming home right away and let me take care of him; this is his house he has all the rights to come home looking like a mess. He’s allowed to be fragile, he’s allowed to ramble about nothing and everything after a shitty day and he’s allowed to be dirty and smelly after a long shift. All these things are a part of him and I absolutely adore them all. It is what makes him a human being. So don’t worry about rambling, I love that you ramble the same way he does. It’s really adorable. And this pancake is godly, I’m a little bit sad he’s incapable of feeding himself properly, but that’s also a little bit cute. He’s so perfect in every way yet he can’t even make scrambled eggs.” You giggle to yourself. When you look up at Inko, the color leaves your cheeks; her lips are trembling and looks like she’s about to cry a river.

“Sorry, was that too much?! I really didn’t mean to make you upset, I mean I know how all this sounds but I’m not…”

You can’t finish the sentence because Izuku suddenly JUMPS IN THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW and lands right in front of his wailing mother.

“Mom, don’t cry, what happened?” Izuku kneels in front of the woman, cradling her face. Your heart almost leaves your chest from the sight of him; he’s in his full costume, sweat shining on his forehead from running all the way here in the heat. His costume sticks to his features more, thanks to the wetness of his skin; you can see every single muscle underneath the costume. You haven’t seen him for almost a week and you didn’t think you will see him today either so needless to say, your heart is having an extremely hard time right now. He’s so gorgeous, goddamnit.

“Izuku!!!!” The woman cries. “I love her so much. So-so much, Izuku! She’s perfect!” She cries some more, looking at her son with fond eyes.

“I know.” Deku smiles, but it does not reach his eyes; there is a sadness to them today and you really hate it. He embraces his mother lovingly and doesn’t look your way at all; you are not sure if it’s because of your last awkward messaging in the middle of night or not. Probably. The heartbreak came sooner than you expected it. You were right, it really fucking hurts.

When Inko calms down Izuku wanders off to get himself a plate and sits down next to you; he touches your shoulders as he passes by, letting you know that everything is fine; the touch helps you to ground yourself and be free of your negative thoughts; you are overthinking again and you know it. Even if it’s awkward this is still Izuku; Izuku who would never hold a grudge against you for needing some space.

For your surprise, he doesn’t take a new pancake from the box but decides to steal yours; he takes the full stack of pancakes, drizzled with just the right amount of maple syrup and puts them down on his own plate; he grins at you cheekily while nibbling on a small piece.

“You thief!” You giggle with an incredulous look on your face, while you move your fork to his plate to steal one pancake back; there is a massive batch of pancakes still sitting in the plastic box, but this is way more fun.

“Hey, you said I can have whatever I want. I wanted your pancakes. You said it, now deal with the consequences.” Deku gives you a shit eating grin while he tries to not choke on the full sized pancake he just stuffed into his mouth. He looks like a 5 year old and it’s absolutely adorable.

“Don’t speak while you eat, you pig!” You shuffle closer, giving his shoulders a little bump with your own. Izuku moves his fork towards you, offering you a small pancake piece and you take it without a second though; Inko chooses this moment to clear her throat to remind you of her existence because you definitely forgot about it.

“Izuku, my love, did you forget to tell me something?” She looks between you two with questioning eyes but her smile is as big as her head; she clearly thinks that Izuku and you… oh, fuck.

“Oh no, it’s not… I’m not…”

“Oh my god, mom, please don’t finish that sentence.”

“I like your son.” You yell with your face on fire. “But our relationship is purely platonic, I swear.”

Izuku stares at you with wide eyes, also rocking a massive blush on his chubby cheeks.

“I also like Y/N. And w-we are… l-like this. All the time. P-Platonically.”

“Hmm.” Inko hums with a humble smile on her face, her eyes still wet from crying just a few minutes ago. “I’ll ask you again in a few weeks.” She WINKS at you two and grabs her bag from the living room. “I’ll go home, enjoy the pancakes! There’s also some brownies on the kitchen counter, I heard Sweet Pea really liked them the last time I sent some over!” Inko DANCES to the main door and closes it behind her, her giggles can still be heard thought the wall.

“Oh my god, that was so awkward, I want to die.” Izuku whines, hiding his face with his arms, pancakes forgotten.

“Well, it was awkward for you but I have your mothers blessing, so I don’t care.” You grin while still rocking a slight blush from the embarrassment.

“You are so mean, Y/N!” The greenette whines again, offended.

“Wow, are we back to normal names now? This relationship came to an end really quickly. How sad.”

You are absolutely mortified by the whole situation but you can’t miss the chance to bully your favorite hero to tears and it will also give you enough serotonin to be able to function for another few days without him.

“You could commit mass murder and I would still beg you to come back to me.” Izuku bursts out randomly, reducing you to a stuttering, blushing mess with his sudden confession.

“I-Izu!” You yell while your heart tries her best to blast out of your chest. “If I ever commit murder, please make sure to lock me away!” You reprimand. “You are a hero!”

“I can lock you in the cleaning cupboard.” He says nonchalantly, like you are talking about the weather.

“Kinky.” You wink, taking the lead back in the ‘game’; you are quite sure Izuku’s face is redder than yours right now and that’s all that matters.

“Oh my god, not in front of my mother’s innocent pancake!” He yells, hiding his plate from your sight; you can’t help but laugh out loud at the randomness of the situation.

“Why are we like this?” You giggle, your head ending up on the hero’s shoulders in the middle of your laughing fit.

“I don’t know but I hope it never changes.” He smiles fondly, his eyes full of an emotion you can’t place. There is a different shine to them now, brighter and more colorful than before but it might be just your own emotions reflecting in them, making you believe they are his own.

“Cheesy.” You roll your eyes mockingly, but your smile says a thousand words.

“You are.” The hero smiles, leaving a sticky, sugary kiss on your forehead while his left arm snakes around your lower back to pull you closer, almost making you fall between the two dining chairs. You both giggle at your clumsiness and go back to your abandoned pancakes; Izuku will need to leave eventually and probably won’t have another break until the evening, so you let him eat his pancakes in peace, surrounded by a comfortable silence.

~•🥦•~

— Deku’s Daycare! —

Half and half bastard: Y/N, the squad is going on a camping trip next week. It’s a 2 night trip to the woods, tents, camping supplies and transport provided by me. If you would like to be added to the attendance sheet, please send me a message. Have a great day.

Piggy 🐷: OMG a new name on the attendance sheet? What an exciting day for our boy!

Half and half bastard: It is indeed exciting. I haven’t updated our attendance sheet for ten years.

EMO bitch: I’m quite sure Mina was being sarcastic, Shouto.

Half and half bastard: Oh. But I am excited. I don’t understand.

Y/N: Oh, hello Shouto-kun, please add me to the attendance sheet! I’m also more than happy to provide some snacks and cookies for the trip!

Half and half bastard: Thank you very much, Y/N! Just a reminder for everyone: Don’t drink anything Denki gives you.

Pikachu: Hey!!!

Piggy 🐷 : Amen.

Kacchan Sugoi: Bring a condom Y/N, just in case.

Y/N: ?!

Shitty Hair: Ignore him, Y/N.

*Kacchan sugoi changed Shitty Hair’s name to Homeless Dude.*

Homeless Dude: HEY!

… Next Chapter!

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Potato ramble:

- So if you feel like this chapter wasn’t fluffy enough, wait for the next few. Like damn, I think I have diabetes at this point.

- About the camping chapter… well… so I wanted it to be a two parter… ended up writing 10K + words and by the look of it, it will have minimum 4 but rather 5 parts because I can’t stop writing it. I’m on the 4th part and I still have one full day to write about. 😂 Sorry in advance! 😂

- Shopaholic potato update: I know I said there won’t be any this week… but I bought 2 more funkos (Hawks and Jirou with a bass!) and there is a funko day on Saturday in my favorite geek store… send help.

- The “why are we like this” part is a reference to one of my fav comics ever called “Heartstopper” by Alice Oseman.

- I started to play with the MHA Strongest Hero mobile game. I don’t have an actual life anymore.

- So I was listening to my liked music on Spotify and this song came up and I was like omg if this story would be a movie this would be the opening of it! Enjoy!

- The ADHD joke wasn’t originally a part of this chapter, I wrote it in here in tumblr while editing because I had a really hard time concentrating and came up with random questions like the one written down, while editing and I had to vent about it. Apparently listening to music, swinging my legs left to right, drinking coffee and eating chocolate isn’t enough to keep me focused today. It’s one of those days. Jesus I’m rambling now. Help.

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always! 🥦

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Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @momothemasocist @aymasakusa @sky179ler @kastuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07

[eszera15]

More Than Friends [Zandik x GN! Reader]

Decided to post this here because why not.

Warnings: fluff, comfort, kissing, suggestive at the end if you squint

Synopsis: You are a burnt out Akademiya student about a month away from graduating. You just can’t bring yourself to care about the schoolwork piling up or upcoming exams, so you decided to visit your friend.

—

Ugh… Schoolwork. You were so fucking tired of it. It was taking up so much of your time, and you were close to graduating from the Akademiya anyway so it’s not like you had the motivation to actually do any of it.

Frustrated, you pushed your work to the side, grabbed your jacket, and headed to the door. You were going to talk a walk, and this walk was going to clear your mind. This wouldn’t just give you more anxiety, it was going to help. This wasn’t procrastinating.

Or at least that’s the shit you told yourself because you didn’t know what else to do.

You pulled your jacket on and flipped up the hood as you walked outside. Of course it was raining. Not enough to require a waterproof coat, but just enough to send shivers down your spine if the wind blew too strong. It was also dark. Which didn’t bode well as the sidewalk was so uneven you sometimes had a problem walking on in when it was light out.

Could things get any fucking worse?

Apparently it could because just then you tripped over your own shoelace and just barely managed to catch yourself and avoid smashing your face on the concrete. 

You hissed in pain as the gravel dug into your palms, and you could feel the blood starting to run down your fingers as you got up. Perfect. Maybe this walk was a bad idea.

You still held on hope that your destination would make the scrapes and bruises worth it.

Hell you knew it would be worth it, you were going to see one of your best friends after all. Even if he wasn’t home, he would probably make it up to you some other time. That’s just how he rolled, or at least with you. The guy never seemed to care much about anyone else.

You kept walking, it wasn’t far now. Just a few more blocks. You let your mind wander a little to fill the time. You thought about the pile of schoolwork you abandoned in your apartment and how the hell you were going to get it done in time. You sighed, you would get it done, somehow you always managed.

Finally you arrived at his apartment building. The buzzer was broken, so you had to use the spare key Zandik had given you to get in. 

Trudging up the stairs, you hoped he wasn’t already in bed. You would’ve hated yourself if you woke him up the one time he actually went to bed at a reasonable time. 

Oh who were you kidding. You weren’t even sure if he actually slept like a normal human being at this point. He might’ve made up some crazy assed potion that acts as a substitute for sleep. It was definitely a possibility. Or maybe he was just fucking crazy. 

It was probably both, and if it was, you should ask about that magic sleep potion.

You arrived at his apartment door and knocked. You could use the spare key he gave you to just open the door if it was locked, but you didn’t want to be too rude.

”It’s open!”

You opened the door and just kind of stood there, looking utterly defeated. Zandik looked over at you, beaker of a strange liquid in one and a test tube in the other.

”(Y/N), you good? You look like shit.”

Straight to the point. The simplicity comforted you. Definitely a refresher after how literally everything else in life was complicated as hell.

You walked over and hugged him, shoving your face into his chest while incoherently mumbling about feeling burnt out.

”Fuck, lemme put this down.” Zandik awkwardly reached over you and put the tube and beaker down on the desk. He then rubbed your back and slowly walked you over to the couch.

”Why is there blood all over your hands?”

“I ate shit on the walk over.” You slumped back into the pillows, trying not to get blood everywhere.

”Stay right there, I have some medical stuff in the closet.” 

As he stood up you noticed that you got blood on his shirt when you hugged him. You huffed in frustration, how bad of a friend were you? Zandik seemed to do so much for you, but you never had the chance to really do anything important for him. 

Hell, you even asked once what you could do for him. He just pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your head, saying that simply existing was more than enough. Never in your life had you felt so appreciated or validated, and all you could do was cry into his chest and hug him tighter. He rested his chin on the crown of your head and stroked your hair, which calmed you down. When you finally looked up, all you could say was, “You’re so fucking amazing. Thank you thank you thank you.”

You pulled yourself back to the present with a smile on your face. That was probably your favorite memory.

Zandik sat next to you with the first aid kit he dug out of the closet. “Give me your hands.” He began to clean and disinfect the cuts, being as gentle as possible.

Just then it occurred to you how weird (for lack of a better term) your relationship with Zandik was. It went farther that what most people would consider a friendship, but you weren’t really dating either. But if he did ask you out, there really wouldn’t be a change in your relationship. Neither of you ever really cared about the ‘status’ of your relationship. You didn’t care whether you were dating or not, you two just did what was comfortable. And if that included lots of cuddles and quality time (which it did) so fucking be it.

Zandik finished bandaging your hands and got up to put the kit away. This time he noticed the blood on his shirt. He gave it a concerned look before removing the shirt and tossing it into the laundry basket next to the couch. He walked into his bedroom and came out as he was pulling a clean shirt over his head.

“Do you need anything else?”

”Cuddles and love.” You respond trying to dramatically pout but laughing at your attempt. He smiled and pulled you into his lap while leaning back into the couch. You essentially sprawled out over him like a cat, wanting to get as close as physically possible.

He was warm, which was one of the many things you loved about him. It made him prime cuddle material. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat as he lazily pet your hair. You were so comfortable that after a few minutes you began to drift off in the comfortable silence.

”Hey, you know your absolutely fucking beautiful right?”

You lift up your head, that was a random question. “What?”

”You’re beautiful.”

”Yeah, I know what you said, but why did you say that?”

”Last week you said that you were insecure about how you look. I just wanted you to know that I thought you were beautiful. And smart for that matter. I know you’re completely burnt out right now, but you are still fucking smart.”

You were surprised at the comment. He went so above and beyond what anyone else has ever done for you that you didn’t know what do do with it. Holy shit you were so lucky to have him.

Suddenly you felt a hand cradling your neck and jaw. You looked up to meet his eyes, and you couldn’t help but think that his eyes really were a beautiful shade of red. You couldn’t quite read the emotion swirling around in them, but it didn’t matter because the question was answered when he pulled you into a kiss.

Somehow the gesture didn’t surprise you at all. It just felt so natural that you didn’t question the action despite you never kissing before.

His tongue slipped through your lips and explored your mouth. You enjoyed every second of it. Your hands travelled up to cradle his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. His free hand slipped down and wrapped around your waist. 

The whole experience just felt right.

Neither of you knew how long the kiss lasted, but when you finally parted there was a thick string of saliva connecting your mouths.

You sat there a moment, letting everything sink in before saying, “Was that romantic or platonic?” You genuinely didn’t know, and you honestly wouldn’t care either way.

”I’m not completely sure, and I’m not sure I really care. Wagering a guess though, it was more romantic.”

“Great then you won’t mind me doing this.”

You kissed his neck. It wasn’t really supposed to be a bite, but your teeth did catch his skin. He let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a satisfied hum.

”I always had a feeling we would turn out as something a little more than friends,” he said as he grabbed your hips and sat you both up. He pulled you into another kiss. Slowly he pulled away and let his kisses travel from the corner of your lips down to your collar bone.

”How far do you want to go, Zandik?”

”All the way my love, if that’s okay.”

[animentality]

Can I just bitch about Baldur's Gate 3 for a second-

JK, I'm not fucking asking.

So Ketheric Thorm...got an entire fucking act basically DEDICATED TO HIM.

The Shadow Cursed Lands suck because of him. Everything in that zone is fucked because of his nonsense. Every enemy you fight is either related to the shadows or the Absolute plot, which, as far as you know at that point, is tied directly back to him, and him alone.

And every fucking person you meet, rounds him out in some way.

Thisobald, Gerringothe, Malus, these are all unique looking and fun bosses. And they all round out Ketheric Thorm, showing us his fucked up family, and how terrible their impact has been.

Balthazar, Z'rell, even Aylin and Isobel- all thematically and narratively tied to our Shar/Myrkul worshipping bitch.

Even Halsin and Thaniel, Minthara and Shadowheart...all of them have ties to Ketheric.

And that's great and all. That's probably why I, unlike many others, actually enjoy Act 2 a fair bit.

But then. We get to the dreaded Act 3.

Which is a bloated, disorganized, incoherent mess.

But worse than that is... Gortash and Orin are our next big bads, yeah? And they have a kind of fun intro, that makes you think ooh, the next big bads...

And then.

And then what happens?

You can kill Gortash immediately, pretty much at the beginning of Act 3. No build up. You can just do that. Sure, you can do the Steel Watch or the Ironhand Throne quests...but tell me.

Could you just go up to Ketheric Thorm and kill him at Moonrise? The answer is no. Even if you skip a lot of content, you still have to go through a million other tasks before you can face him, AND the big boss battle at the end is entirely him and Myrkul. It's EARNED.

But Gortash? Well, fuck, he's fucking dead before you can even face the final big boss.

And Orin? Sure, you have to collect a bag of hands to get into the Temple...but so what? That's maybe two or three quests, but you can circumvent them. Besides, as soon as you kill her, she vanishes from the narrative and doesn't matter. She's a somewhat easy boss battle, but the actual build up isn't intricately tied into the narrative of Act 3...because there is no inherent narrative to Ac 3.

Act 2 was about an insane man's descent into villainy after losing the people he loved most.

It was tragic, but at least thematically consistent.

The fuck is happening in Act 3?

Gortash is committing war crimes because he's tyrannical, and Orin is murdering indiscriminately and just for funsies.

at least Ketheric's entire thing is about defying the gods, using them for his own gains, and similarly, being used by them.

But Orin? She has one sympathetic scene, and then she dies immediately after.

Gortash you can just kill and then he doesn't matter, or you can side with him, and then he just dies, and doesn't matter.

It's utterly baffling and mildly infuriating.

I know Act 3 was hit with the cut content rush and all, but I feel like you could've spent your time actually bothering to build them up the way you built up Ketheric. You could've given us political quests or world building quests with Gortash, especially given how manipulative he is, or given us more madness and shadows and underground labyrinths and spooky monsters with fucking Orin.

Instead of garbage quests like the Wavemother, Mystic Carrion, Stop the Presses, and Lady Jannath's Torture House, you could've given Karlach a quest related to fixing her heart, which would've tied into Gortash's plots, or given Gale more to do than simply go to Sorcerous Sundries, or tied Cazador to some kind of patriars plot, or had Wyll's father do more than be kidnapped and then later saved.

You could've given Halsin literally any fucking quest, instead of bringing in Jaheira or Minsc. But most importantly.

I just don't get it. Gortash runs Baldur's Gate. You could've easily tied him to a lot more quests, and made him far more threatening or hard to take down. You could've also made Orin feel like an actual threat, and not just a mild nuisance.

It's just kind of...it irks me.

Not just as a Gortash stan, but as a writer, because it's so odd, to have 3 perfectly decent villains...and only flesh out one.

The other two might as well be optional mini bosses.

[kyouka-supremacy]

What are the things you like or appreciate about shin soukoku? /gen

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I like sskk! I like everything about them. I feel like there's just so much to unpack about them, and there's no end to it!! After all this time I'm still finding out new possible dynamics and ways to interpret their relationship, it's so much fun. They're both very very complex characters, and their dynamics together are pretty awesome? There's the whole deal– I hate myself, so I have to hate you, because you're just like me. It's sooo cool. It's nice to see characters who hate themselves so much, but who also try to do better (Atsushi), try to be better (Akutagawa). They're both so so complex individually, and I simply adore what becomes of them when they come together. I think that when they're together, their individual characterization shines the brightest, because they're souls precisely created as parts of the same whole. And I've written about this forever ago, but I really like how their journey goes from hating each other to loving each other to loving themselves, I think it's a very nice concept to explore.

It's just a... Low-pressure ship in a lot of ways? It's something very very comforting to think about for me. As a ship, it constantly feels like saying “yeah, you do kind of suck. That doesn't mean you can't be loved.” It's just such a sweet sentiment for me!! It's not saying one shouldn't try to be better, but sometimes you do feel like you're utterly bad and unlovable, and there's no helping it; and sskk is there telling you “look. Here's two of the worst people on earth. One of them is unlovable by definition. And they still have in them to love, and to be loved.'” It's just :')

I genuinely love how both of them are kind of awful people. I mean, there's probably not a single thing about their moral code I agree with. But for some reason that makes them very compelling to explore? It's interesting to engage with characters that share worldviews so strikingly different from mine. Them having such fucked up ideals, so many flaws and selfish goals, makes them feel terribly human, and also makes them very sympathetic, in a way. They're a true mess, but one that reminds me so much of how sloppy and incoherent humans are like. Them being so distant from me greatly adds to their appeal tbh! Generally, I have a very strong moral code, and I try to do the right thing, while they're terribly selfish and self-survival driven. I'm mostly perceived as a woman, and they are two men with superpowers who fight and die for each other. I like reading about characters I can't see anything of myself in! I already have enough of myself irl lol.

Now that I think about it, I really really love how they don't mince words. Again, it's something personal, but I heavily dislike the habit of using euphemisms to sugarcoat reality. Sometimes things are unpleasant and ugly, and trying to deny it feels insulting more often than not. Sskk are always very direct, and never hesitated to tell what they think to the other's face, even if it comes at the cost of throwing insults; weirdly enough, it's something I appreciate. I think deep down, they appreciate it too.

The perspective of having someone who makes your true nature emerge is nice. Again, instead of mincing words and faking it, it's nice to imagine there's someone who could see them for who they really are, and loves them still. It's compelling to explore the true terror anyone would feel from being completely naked in front of someone else, but at the same time the sort of relief that comes with it? “This is the part of me I've always beaten up and suppressed and hidden. Look! Isn't that deeply disgusting? Yet that is nothing but the real me.”

The whole complementary-in-everything thing hits that specific part of my ocd brain that has me do stuff like organize my posts in a coherent string so that every post is connected to the previous, have every post posted at a round number timespan, count the pixels in every single picture I trim etc. Atsushi is mostly white in his design and Akutagawa is mostly black but the colors are reversed when they use their abilities combined. Atsushi is good and Akutagawa is evil. Tiger & dragon & cat & dog. Blue and red. government-affiliated job and mafia. Healthy and regenerating vs. sick and decaying. Loved & hated. Attractive and hideous. One loves reading and the other finds it unnerving, one knows how to cook and the other is a cooking disaster, one likes coffee and the other likes tea, early bird and night owl, so on and so forth. Then, the fact that when they come together they end up looking so deeply similar is kind of neat, it's like there's some sort of Hegelian synthesis in their love.

Their canon moments are truly great and exciting. I care relatively little about the amount of moments a ship has in canon– an interesting dynamic is an interesting dynamic no matter their screentime, right? And you're free to imagine what the characters interacting would be like in your head any time. And while I still like to believe their relationship would still be very compelling even without the moments they share, wow. Their canon screentime is crazy, it's outstanding. I think the depiction of their dynamics in canon is exceptionally good, and extremely well-written. The “the words of your past are fundamentally unrelated to who you are now”, the Atsushi wearing Rashomon, the “you damn fool // hurry up and go”, the “just the two of us?”– they're all such epic and sublime moments, every time they leave the reader gaping and bewildered and, frankly, wondering if that really happened. And their scenes are so consistently homoerotically charged!! From the “it's been reserved solely for you today” to the “the man-tiger's my main dish” to the “their eyes met. Akutagawa's lips moved, mouthing the words I found you” to the “once this is done, I'm going to teach you things other than ‘killing’ ” to the “as long as I can't deny your very being, I'll never be able to move forward” to the “don't touch me! Disgusting!” to the “I'm sorry”. From Akutagawa piercing Atsushi with Rashomon to kicking him to getting unnecessarily close to his face. From every second they've spent admiring each other to the way they call out each other's names with so much passion. The list goes on forever. And chapters 84-88 are short to a masterpiece. The characters' growth is madly well-executed, how we see them go through it almost step-by-step, and it's all so consistent, and it's all so human.

Finally, the picture that made me go “Ah! There's something about them!” for the first time. It's very dear to me :)

It's got Atsushi being cute and Akutagawa looking at him with a fairly undecipherable expression that yet is distinctively non-hostile, and this precise illustration made my brain go “Wow, what if Akutagawa actually had a soft spot for Atsushi. What if there was tenderness in his eyes.” Then it all went downhill from there ahah

[stitchwraith-stingers]

(some-what of) an analysis on patty possom(?)

inspired by this post on the PE-AZ yes this episode is my fave yes i unironically love patty yes i was a fnaf kid yes i am utterly deranged

some of these r incoherent because its midnight and i wanna post this as fast as possible before i go to bed and wake up at the crack at dawn

yayyy patty ^_^

one of the first things ive noticed post becoming alive like the next frankeinstine is that her eye wasnt fixed by the mechanics, which as ill discuss later imply a sort of negligence (? i think) to the properly, i however dgaf and like to interperate this as her having a lazy eye <3

she seems to be a genuially nice person!!!! um . i dont know how to continue this paragrapth pretend theres something here thats interesting

imagine being born into the world and already having a dreadful fear of being abandoned. crazy, mustve impacted her very hard

though this probably means it gave her fake memories or she was already sorta vaugely away of whats happening?? like psudo sentient?? if that makes sense, how the hell do you know this girl, you havent BEEN to the devils sacrament

the way she goes about it and the ending shows that she has no clue on how to socialize or their cues at all, or just cuz of the pov its intentionally shown as more creepy (which it probably is, you could hear her go "where r u going :(" in a sad tone), shes a massive werido and i love her for that

point is, shes nice but has no idea how to say "nooo dont leave me haha" normally cuz she just appeared 2 seconds ago with no idea of proper communication, does that make sense..... help

heres the thing i love about this the most, shes at the end of the ep shes seen dragging background character #47 in the same tone of voice and hes seen uncomfortable. PAN TO THE NEXT SLIDE IN WHICH THEY SEEM OK IN THEIR PRESENCE

LIKE . THE GUY JUST ACCEPTS HER HAND TO HOLD WHEN SHES SHOCKED..... THEY R BESTIES AND IM TIRED OF PPL OVERLOOKING IT, and the fact that i dont think we get to see him again (cuz they couldnt fit him anywhere in the background? i think) makes it better for me, balding old guy notices furry twice his size scared of being left alone so he decides to stay here just for her.... MANNN

the general area

lets see, were right off the bat were introduced to a good few places, the fun tunnels, the game zone, a claw machine thats rigged, the place with the signature snack which i wont go over because thats kinda of its own gag but its sticky and probably unhealthy, and the main stage

i assume the fun tunnels are made with a holograpthic effect inuniverse, and i think theres some LED lights in there to make it glow, i was going to say its polyethylene plastic but i dont think that exists google stock photos lied to me, also not related but it looks like a horrible spray paint job was done on this thing lol

also acording to the lyrics theres supposed to be 3 more members, a raccoon, cat and turtle . i dont think we see craggle in photo though rip (if theyre not a sphyinx ill be dissapointed), tyrone seems to have a 60's? aesthetic going on, rascal has a punk aesthetic going on and patty has a more modern aesthetic ? i think, the spiked collar is throwing me off

from winns dialouge in the start implying that they havent been here in a good while ("when i was little" ur in 5th grade) and the fact that their instruments are still there, then this was probably a recent desicion, or atleast long enough for a 10 y/o that hasnt been here in awhile to be upset by this and for patty to be immediatly spawned in with abandonment issues

along with a rigged claw machine and the snack i think it implies that the people over there who own this establishment are probably really cheap, and the fact that the PRAMBY snack is really sticky is definatly going to cause some health issues down the line, something something fazbear entertainment

oh and also, theres like a split second frame where this shows up, obviously its just there as a morbid joke but atleast it shows us this establishment is atleast old enough to have someones decaying body be bone by now, which after writing that makes me sound stupid because skeletonization might not take as long as i thought it would ("3 weeks to several years" depending on the surroundings)

whoever was there seemed to have been stuck for 25 days at least and has gone undetected, which means this place is linked to one unsolved missing persons case and they dont have a clue (most likely), also theres ballpit balls inside this thing i fucking guess?? theres no actual ballpit in the place idk what this kid was doing

i have tried to make up a map of how the place looks but im always bad with rooms ? and i had to take a fewwww small creative liberties with this cuz i couldnt figure out where theyd be but close enough👍👍

[sapphire-weapon]

Not that anon but I want ur metaltango explanation 👀

ok well

I'm pretty high, so gomen if this is incoherent.

basically, we know exactly three things about Krauser's past:

he trained Leon

he loved his men but couldn't protect them, and then couldn't even die alongside them, and he feels incredible guilt over that

Leon says that he had a code of honor that he kept to, and the game outright says that he used to be a good guy

none of that

literally NONE OF IT

even hints that Krauser was an abuser. in fact, it paints a total opposite picture.

Krauser is a dark omen of what Leon could become under the right conditions, because he was also someone who believed wholeheartedly in the institutions that were supposed to support him, in the rule of authority and law, and in the chain of command -- all things that Leon believed in in RE2.

and just like Leon in RE2, he had all of that ripped out from under him in the harshest way possible.

but unlike Leon, Krauser didn't have a Sherry Birkin to protect. he was left completely and utterly alone. abandoned. and born from that trauma was a desperation to never have that happen to him again, which is why he goes out seeking power to protect himself with.

if Leon had had everything stripped away from him the way that Krauser had, who's to say that he wouldn't have become a villain himself? he certainly had justification for it, after all that'd happened to him.

and the game harps on this a few different times. Krauser says to Leon that they're two sides of the same coin. he also has a line: "I know your every move. you learned them from me." the implication here is that Leon is still walking down that path. he's not out of those woods yet. if he doesn't save Ashley... then what?

so go back and rewind now.

rewind to Leon being fresh out of RE2 and all of the horrible shit that happened to him and being placed under command of this man who's at least ten years his senior but still believes in all of the things that betrayed Leon in Raccoon City. that was probably a pretty powerful revelation for him, and -- knowing what we know about Leon -- it was something that he would've wanted to emulate. Krauser was a strong man who took no bullshit from anyone, but he still had things that he believed in. that's exactly the kind of person that Leon would want to be.

and like. Krauser couldn't have trained Leon with the efficacy that he did if Leon didn't trust him completely. like yeah, Leon ran missions with his unit, but their trainings were one-on-one affairs. if Leon didn't trust him, he wouldn't have been able to learn shit from him. and since Leon went into this relationship not being able to trust himself, even, after RE2, to be able to trust someone else to that extent is a Big Fucking Deal, actually.

like.

Leon doesn't want to fight Krauser in RE4make. and he certainly doesn't want to kill him. even after Krauser kills Luis, Leon's still trying to talk it out with him. because he loves this man. Krauser believed in him when he didn't even believe in himself, and Krauser's teachings are what kept him going this long.

and on the flipside of things, Krauser looked at Leon and saw nigh-limitless potential stuck inside of a man who was too broken to see it. the one thing that held Leon back was his own distrust of himself, and so it became Krauser's goal to build that confidence in him back up in order to unlock that potential. and to be a part of something like that -- to have that kind of effect on another human being's life -- that's some really powerful shit, too.

but then Operation Javier happens. and Leon lives, when all of Krauser's other men die. how do you cope with something like that? unfortunately, Krauser didn't.

so metaltango is like... at least for me...

it's a mentor/student relationship that's far more personal than that. Leon looks up to Krauser, sure, and Krauser has a vested interest in helping Leon become the best version of himself that he can, but... it's more than that. both of them saw pieces of themselves in each other. both of them drew hope from one another. but then that hope in both of them died, leaving them with nowhere else to go but spiraling towards certain destruction. the story between Leon and Krauser is a tragedy, but that tragedy wasn't born from abuse. it was born from the trust and hope and love that was lost between them.

my brain is melting

i hope any of this is making sense

[soulofapatrick]

Can You Forgive Me - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel and Ellie return from the fireflies four months after Joel left you in the care of Tommy without even saying goodbye

Words: 650+

Warnings: angst

Y/N’s POV

I just freeze in the middle of the street at the sight of Tommy walking towards me with two very familiar figures trailing behind him. Ellie’s clover green eyes meet mine and she’s sprinting towards me, jumping into my open arms as I hug her tightly. 

“Hey there sweetheart,” I pull back, holding her face in my hands and just taking in how much she’s matured in the four months we’ve been separated, “Look at you. You’ve grown so much.” 

She just sniffles, eyes moving away as I wipe a tear away with the pad of my thumb before hugging her again, “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“Y/N?” There’s a shake to his voice as I let Ellie go, Tommy ushering her over to him as I fix my gaze on him. He looks the same with salt and pepper hair and tan skin, cognac eyes bright in the sunlight, except the dark bags under his eyes and his beard has grown a little fuller. I want to run and hug him but I’m still so fucking mad at him for what he did. I’m stopping in front of him, feeling that lump begin to lodge itself in my throat and my blood boil in my veins when he reaches out with a shaky hand to caress my cheek. The feel of his calloused hand on my cheek seems to make the wall holding up my emotions crumble and I’m slapping him. People have stopped to watch as they know exactly who Joel and Ellie are and what Joel did to me all those months ago, “Darling?” 

“Don’t call me that!” I’m hitting his chest as tears burn my eyes, “You don’t get to call me that! You abandoned me! You left me! You asshole!” My fists are slamming against his chest over and over again as that ache in my chest gets bigger and I’m struggling to breathe. I want to punch him and kick him and kiss him and scream at him but he’s wrapping his arms around me, holding me until my punches turn to soft slaps then fade to me gripping his jacket like a lifeline. My yelling becoming incoherent stuttering sounds as the pain in my chest gets worse and I’m choking on air, squeezing my eyes shut in hope to stop the tears. I feel utterly pathetic as my knees buckle as I collapse against his chest, sobs turning into quiet whimpers as all the hurt and anger and betrayal seems to leave me and I’m left an empty shell. 

His large had is cradling the back of my head and the other around my waist as he takes it all, holding me up and his chapped lips are against my forehead as he’s murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over again. He stays like that until I feel exhausted, my tears dried up and my throat raw. He holds me at arms length, face full of guilt before he cups my cheek again, drawing me forwards into a desperate kiss. I should be yelling and shouting but all I find myself sinking into it as I’m missed the feeling of him. 

“Can you forgive me?” He whispers against my touch starved lips and I can’t bring myself to respond, kissing him again but he’s pulling away, “Y/N.” 

“I-I don’t know Joel, you abandoned me after telling me you loved me.” 

“Wait, wait you did what?” Ellie jumps in and suddenly our surroundings come flooding back. We’re standing in the middle of Jackson with people staring at us and whispering as this is probably the biggest thing to happen since Ellie; Joel and I arrived in Jackson for the first time four months ago. 

“Please.” He’s practically begging and something in me snaps. 

“Prove to me you won’t leave again and I’ll forgive you.”