#the constant fist fights lmao

[teranobriss]

Obviously npmd is dialed up to be this big crazy story, but sometimes I look back at all the batshit insane things that happened at my high school and realize that, actually, it might not be that far off from describing the public school experience after all lmao

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

cannot wait until i can afford to just be healthy and take care of myself which has many more steps outside of just needing money like i really gotta build up from the absolute bottom and re-learn how to be a human person it's actually insane. i've been making so many plans but nothing will ever get me there besides just starting to do it ughhhhhhhh

[diejager]

I need to add something to the request I put in

(totes okay if you don’t accept this)

bunny hybrid probs has to deal with a lot of racism because most think they’re just breeders and stuff, so reader has gone as far as to swear they’ll never become a breeder (which is fucking hard not to with soap around lmao)

~🧋

Cw: sexism?, racism/xenophobia?, non-con touching, soap being horny, tell me if I missed any.

Despite wanting to fight for your cause, you knew there wasn’t anything you could give - excuse - to reason your biting, the lingering taste of spoiled and rotten blood on the back of your throat and the stains of red on your lips were a constant reminder of your aggression. You knew Price wouldn’t fault you for lashing back at them, insulting and disgusting pigs whose eyesight went as far as the end of their noses, with an ego so high up their arse that they couldn’t differentiate a softer and domestic rabbit to a hardened and trained one. 

It felt degrading, being constantly reminded that you could’ve been a small breeder, a broodmare to another mate, forgoing your person for a duty others seemed to have filled. The world didn’t need more bunnies than it already had. It didn’t help that you were softer than them, wider hips, tender skin and rounder curves, charmingly feminine despite the rough material of your fatigues or your growls and snarls. They’d often ignore your hisses when their hands lingered, ignoring the signs of aggression because what- bunnies weren’t inherently aggressive? You fought, you bled and you killed, so how would biting and clawing be any different?

But Price wasn’t proud of your manner of escape —self-defence, anger issues, rage, whichever word he used. He grumbled lowly, placing down his precious hat to fist at his hair, the gleaming silver strands a physical reminder of the stress and pressure he lived when he had you all under his care. A dedicated leader. An empathetic friend. A good captain. A loving man. He was all and more, but there were things even he couldn’t do, and the constant complaints and reports on your “biting problem” was souring his bitter tea. 

“Biting won’t do any good,” he mumbled your name in slight disappointment, sighing at your sudden pout, ears drooping sorrowfully.

“I know, but they keep saying things,” your snarled, fisting the fabric of your pants, “These p- men keep touching me and Soap isn’t hel-”

“Helping you with all the times he’s pulled you into his room or a closet. I’m aware,” he breathed out a puff of smoke, rolling his head back with a satisfied feel of ash and tabacco, “I’ll remind him to be mindful.”

You flashed him a grateful smile, small but happy, shoulders slumping lighting at the small respite Price had given you. It might not be a fix-it-all, but it would mellow down the on-going rumours of you being both a bunny hybrid and a barracks bunny —however insulting and debasing that was. 

“Now, onto the actual issue,” you were keenly aware of his hand, running along the seams of his beard and against his lips, “Reckon they’d enjoy longer drills.”

You couldn’t help the grin that curled your lips into a cruel smirk, teeth flashing at your captain’s planned punishment. 

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[snipersfucker]

As someone new to transformer fics, I'd love a fic where Mirage and the reader learn what the others name for body parts are (hand/servo, etc.) And obviously Mirage uses it as an opportunity to put the moves on the reader.

yall are so creative with these i legit opened my mouth when i read that...... such a good idea omg lets go (im so deep in that shit i legit remember most robot names for these body parts without having to look em up lmao)

"That's a chassis."

You let out a sigh as Mirage pointed at another part of his metal body. You knew you wouldn't be able to remember all these ridiculously strange names, but still wanted to be a good student, especially because you asked him to teach you.

"Mine's a bit bigger than the ones your little boys have."

And there it was. His constant bragging, showing-off, comments that indicated he was damn aware he was better than humans.

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, not having to look up that much because he was sitting on his... aft. Or something.

"Helm, face plate, optics, pedes, tank..." He kept pointing at random body parts of his, naming them as fast as he could just to get to the most interesting ones he could use to finally rizz you up.

"'m surprised you don't have a diploma for being the best teacher ever, Mirage," you muttered under your breath shamelessly, sarcasm dripping from your tongue as you stood there with your arms crossed on your chest.

He liked the way you said his name, even if it wasn't in a particularly nice tone.

"No speaking unless you're being spoken to, miss," he reprimanded you like a strict teacher would, using his best Optimus Prime voice. Then, before you could talk back, he extended his left arm, putting it right in front of your face. He made a fist but allowed his middle finger to stay up, "What's this called?" he asked you, even though you haven't gone through this particular body part yet.

"Flipping someone off, sir," you answered in an overly eager, sweet tone, as if you were trying to sound like the teacher's pet.

You calling him sir made his spark skip a beat or two.

"Wrong." He lowered his hand and placed it on his metal thigh with a soft clang. He shook his helm in fake disappointment, letting out a long sigh. "It's a digit. And what do we do with digits?" he continued in a teacher's voice, making a specific motion with his servo to encourage you to answer his question, even though he automatically did so in his mind.

We put them inside disobedient girls.

"We flip people off, sir," you responded in a fake innocent, childish tone, straightening your back and smiling widely as if waiting for praise for giving him a good answer. It made you cringe internally but you also thought it was funny so the choice whether to continue talking like that or just leave was easy to make.

He snorted at your words, shaking his head in amusement once more as he brought his servo to your body and flicked your arm gently with his two digits.

"That's what we do with 'em."

"Oh, fuck off." You smacked his servo before he could pull it away from you. Even though you could barely feel the flick of his robot fingers, you still massaged your arm, hoping it'd make him feel at least a little bit bad, and he'd stop bullying you.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He raised his optical ridge at your words, not being able to fight back a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

You could kiss me with that mouth.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he immediately got rid of it, not letting it distract him.

"Tibulen, cadulen..." he began naming other body parts, and there was no way in hell you'd be able to remember those. "Glossa..." He stuck his metal tongue out, pointing at it lazily with his index digit.

A question popped up in your head, "You got saliva?"

For the first time, you were actually curious about something, expecting an actual, truthful response, but instead you got what Mirage was best at. Sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah, our saliva's made out of corrosive acid actually. Cool stuff." He shrugged nonchalantly as if what he just said was nothing. "Want me to spit on you so you can get the drill?" he asked overly casually, already slightly leaning in your direction.

He was having so much fun...

You grimaced at his question, even though you knew he was most likely joking. Most likely.

"Pass," you murmured under your breath.

"...But there are other ways you could... feel it."

His time to shine has come which he was very much aware of.

His unnecessarily mysterious tone made you snort quietly, an eyebrow involuntarily raised as you asked him with amusement dancing on your tongue, "Care to share?"

He tilted his head with a very, very sly smirk on his lips, which partly gave you an answer to your question. The realisation almost made your face drop but you contained yourself, and just rolled your eyes at his silent offer, pretending not to notice the heat spreading across your own cheeks.

"No."

"I didn't say anything," he responded in an amused, innocent tone, raising his servos in a defensive gesture.

"Yeah, but your eyes said a lot," you argued, the sudden shift in your confidence making you unable to find the situation as funny as before.

He made an unbelievable amount of butterflies awaken and fly around in your stomach, and as pleasant as it felt, you couldn't show him that.

"Optics," he corrected you immediately, playful superiority in his tone coming back just in time to crush you once more. He leaned in, making the gap between your faces a lot smaller than before. "And I'm pretty sure you're just imaginin' things," he added teasingly, the smirk almost challenging you.

His plan was working.

"Am I?" You tilted your head slightly to the left, your gaze never leaving his blue optics.

The intensity of your eye contact made him back off just a bit, before he shook his head in both amusement and surprise at the sudden comeback of your confidence.

"We're not done yet," he just said, which may have sounded like a warning but you felt like he was talking about something else than this game you were both playing. "I didn't show you everything," he explained, even though this lesson about his anatomy was the smallest thing occupying his mind at the moment.

You refrained yourself from frowning, feeling pretty sure that he'd already named every single body part of his possible, but you didn't want him to notice how little attention you were actually paying. So you just nodded, getting ready to hear more of that very interesting stuff.

"...Ever seen a metal dick?"

Your jaw almost dropped when your brain registered his shameless question. You couldn't even say anything to that, just unsurely shaking your head to show him that you, in fact, have never seen a metal dick.

And you thought he was about to offer to present one to you just now, but he just let out an amused noise. "Too bad."

And with these words, he transformed into a silver Porsche and drove past you towards the exit of the garage, leaving you confused, breathless, and wanting something more...

might make a part 2 for this with smut if you want

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: As requested by my followers, here’s my bday special yakuza!Suna smut! (It sounds like a dish lmao, also happy bday to 25 year old me yay) The characters are like in their mid-twenties! P.S. I had way too many ideas for writing this, so I am gonna divide it into two parts :'D

Warnings: non-explicit sexual content, cursing, enemies to lovers trope, mentions of sex

You absolutely despise him.

He’s an infuriating, stupidly attractive, arrogant jerk.

Even his name leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

Rintarō Suna. 

Henchman of ruthless yakuza boss Shinsuke Kita, he is a highly intelligent strategist with rather unfortunate good looks that could make any girl swoon as soon as he looked their way. 

Too bad for all the females that Suna doesn’t do relationships, only fucking with no strings attached. 

He’s the only one in the group who brings company back to his room, claiming he has 'needs' and it’s a good stress relief.

You couldn’t care less, it’s not like you have a thing for Suna. 

He uses women and throws them away like paper, his body count is probably higher than the Spanish flu. 

You’re walking down the dimly-lit hallway, passing by an expensive painting towards his room.

When you get closer, you hear the sound of a moaning woman, along with the constant creaking of a bed. 

Immediately, your stomach twists in a weird way and you take deep breaths before hammering your fist against his door.

You hear a startled yelp of the woman and thankfully the creaking stops.

"What?!" Suna snaps loudly from inside his room.

"Suna, get your ass out of there. Kita called for a meeting 20 minutes ago. Send your visitor home and get a move on!" You yell back in frustration.

You wait for about seven minutes before the door opens, and a bright red-headed woman emerges from the room, hair all tousled up with cheeks colored almost as red as her hair.

She is unmistakably beautiful, you unfortunately have to admit. 

She looks a little bit guilty when she looks at you, not saying a word as she brushes past you in a hurry to leave. 

When you look back inside Suna’s room, the air smells heavy with sex and frustration from Suna's side, not exactly happy that you interrupted his hook-up session.

"You know, you’re such a manwhore." You say, with a voice full of anger and jealousy, after the woman has left.

"And proud of it sweetheart." Suna begins to pull up his discarded boxers and black jeans again, turning away from you, so his broad muscled back faces you.

Along with lots of scars of fights he has been in, his massive tattoo always amazes you.

It’s two giant vipers entangled with each other, mouths open so fangs are on display. At the bottom of the vipers, a red demon skull with a nasty snarl is staring right into the viewers face. Along on top of the skull are two horns, looking like they grew out of the skull. Two arrows go through the vipers, not hurting them but so the reptiles curl around them. It represents deceptive authority. 

"Enjoying the view?" Suna's teasing tone rips you out of your daydream.

"You wish. Kita has called us into a meeting and you weren’t picking up your phone when Aran has tried to call you multiple times." You cross your arms in front of your chest as you watch him getting dressed. 

Pulling his discarded maroon hoodie over his upper body, he faces you again with his usual bored expression. Aka what you call his resting-bitch-face.

"Let’s go fuckboy. Kita is waiting for us and with every damn second I spend waiting for you, he grows more agitated. Ever since his girl has left him, he’s been more moody, impatient and impulsive than usual." In the last part of your sentence, you drop the volume of your voice. 

Suna finally finishes putting on his sneakers and steps out of his room to lock the door and follow you to the conference room.

"I can’t understand how you can have sex with someone who screams so loud, I’d probably get my eardrums busted if my partner screamed so loud." You start the conversation.

"Think you sound better?" Suna grins at you with those beautiful dark emerald eyes of his, while still walking beside you to the conference room.

"I KNOW I sound better! At least I don’t scream like a cat in heat when I orgasm." You huff and fast the pace in your steps.

"I don’t care how loud they are, as long as I can fuck them and they leave, I could give less a shit." The brunette fastens his steps, so he is walking next to you again, making your shoulder brush with his side occasionally.

Silence from your side for a few seconds before Suna starts talking again.

"By the way. Why are you so uptight? Haven’t had a good fuck in a while?" He taunts you as he leans closer to your face.

You ignore his comment, finally arriving at the conference room.

When you open the door, you see Kita leaning his head against his propped up fist on his table and at the sound of the door opening, his brown eyes snap towards you. 

His eyes are very cold and it gives you shivers every time you look at him.

Suna shortly follows after you and without any acknowledgment to his boss, he sits in the seat next to Osamu. 

"Finally." Kita sighs and leans back in his chair. Finally all of the Inarizaki members have arrived, sitting at the long white-gray marble table, with Kita sitting at the head of the table. 

The last unoccupied chair was next to Riseki, who gives you a small smile as you sit down next to him.

Kita stands up and walks around a little bit, starting to talk.

"The reason why I called you all in here is because Inarizaki will soon expand its territory. With Shiratorizawa and Nohebi gone, all that is left is Karasuno and Itachiyama." Some of the members listen intently to him, others like Suna pulling out his phone, typing on it with a bored expression.

"So what are we going to do about them?" Aran asks from Riseki's left side. 

"I had a talk with Iizuna last night. We have come to a mutual agreement of joining forces together." Kita answers, stopping at the window to look outside.

"What? Ya serious?! Those snobby bastards only care for their own fuckin' profit!" Atsumu sneers madly.

Kita looks at Atsumu through his peripheral vision briefly before returning his gaze back outside.

"I know that some of you may have a problem with that, but Karasuno has gotten too much power in the last two years. Sawamura is stealing most of our customers away and by joining forces together with Itachiyama, we will be able to take over half of Japan, soon maybe the whole of Japan. Eliminate them one by one, pray you do not disappoint me.”

“What about their newest product ‘Spikedopamine’? I heard that’s the newest shit in town. Is that why our sales have dropped so much?” Akagi states, who sits on your right.

Ginjima and Atsumu who sit across from you, start laughing hysterically at the name that they chose for the newest drug they produced. The name-founder Kageyama used to play volleyball back in high school, where most of the crows have met and formed their group. 

“That’s the stupidest name I ever heard!” Atsumu manages to say while getting tears in his eyes.

Ginjima and Atsumu keep on laughing until Omimi shoots them a sharp glare, while Kita looks at them with an undefined expression.

Ginjima immediately stops, while Atsumu’s laugh turns into a nervous chuckle, stopping after a while as well.

It’s quiet for a while before Kita starts to speak again.

“I will divide you into teams and you will all work together with Itachiyama. Iizuna and I already made the teams.”

Kita walks back to his chair to sit down and reaches for the few folders that Aran has slid over to his boss.

“Team 1, the Surveillance Team. Osamu, you will go with Akagi, Kosaku, Omimi and Komori from Itachiyama. He’s a black-hat hacker, he can help you hack into their security system and download important files, steal information and hack into their bank accounts.” 

The names of the men that were called begin to stand up, since Osamu sits on Kita’s left side at the head of the table, he grabs the folder that Kita has provided him.

“And Team 2, which will be the Assault Team, will consist of Atsumu, (Y/N), Suna and Sakusa from Itachiyama. He's a weapons specialist, expert interrogator and master strategist.” Kita slides the folder to you, since Suna is still on his phone, showing it to Atsumu, who grins mischievously at the screen. 

“Aran, Riseki and Ginjima, you stay here at headquarters, in case someone gets injured, you can take over. That will be all.” Kita, Aran, Riseki and Ginjima begin to get up to return to their rooms while you and your assigned team remain seated.

Well this is fucking great. 

You’re stuck with a psycho, a manwhore and an arrogant jackass for God knows how long, until you all bring the downfall for Karasuno.

[endervoide]

even more screenshots from the Beyblade Metal Manga I quite enjoyed, this time with my thoughts! Also, I should clarify that the translation I'm reading is so wonky and probably not correct, but I get a general idea of what's going on, and also it's so funny to me. it adds to the charm!

i am such a huge fan of these three being besties it it just so funny to me. I've only ever watched the anime, and I'm in love with this with random guy who is still wearing a bey necklace being friends with the Bladers Spirit[tm] and a small child haha.

also also I feel like the manga is really good for Kyogin fans (I myself am a multishipper, but I do love me some Kyogin. Just the way Gingka blushes? the shared special move? God they're so sweet I want nothing but the best for my boys!

Yu is so silly! I love him so much, truly he's like, "yeah I have the power of an evil god but we stay silly lmao" and I just, so far he has no real characterization, but maybe after Gingka beats Ryuga(Which I haven't read past yet, but still!!)

Omg what the hell?? god I wish he was this funny in the show. also, why can't dogs beyblade? Hokuto was perfectly able to beyblade earlier in the series (in fact, he uses a Libra bey!) but whatever. the suddenly serious dog face is gold.

Also, uh, Phoenix? that's what you want to look like? the fuck? I do really like The Pheonix disguise in the show, but oh well. Also, like, Kentas bey gets stepped on and shattered, then phoenix comes in and like, "Believe in your bey kid" and then Kenta gets Flame Sagittario? Okay and this is such a weird aspect of the manga so far, the constant Absolute Destruction of every bey and then the rebirth/evolution of the next MetalWheel/EnergyRing version? It's really wild to happen, in my mind. And like, Benkei gets a new bey off screen (off page?) so why does Kenta (And Ryo, ig) just believe in themselves really really hard and get super cool new Beys? the hell?

Like, huh? are you going to tell me Fireblaze is just as powerful/some sort of Foil to L-Drago? What about Pegasus? Pegasus is supposed to keep the Dragon bey sealed, ig, but Fireblaze is sealed alongside L-Drago?

also, Benkei in the manga is wild, because he shows up the furst few chapters, gets shaved, dissappears, comes back and is friends with kyoya (which makes more sense since Kyoya is a bit friendlier in this verse) and then he gets his shit absolutely rocked by fighting Ryuga, which of course doesn't happen in the Anime. When Tetsuya taunts Kyoya about Benkei's hospitalization (because the victims of Ryuga still get hospitalized, but not in a weird soulless coma) Kyoya is ready to use his fists. let Kyoya beat the shit outta a guy, as a treat!

absolute gem, I love him. Ryutaro isn't in the manga for that long, but him and his janky as hell translation is perfect to me!

I've never liked Tobias, but he and Sora fight Reiji and Ryuga, and Reiji just shreds storm Capricorn? also, he's not all slimy and freaky as shit in the manga like he is in the shoe. Also, Gingka just, destroys Poisen serpent in his battle against Reiji. Gingka launches his bey and then walks away. Icon.

[lunarw0rks]

Hurt/Comfort Alphabet | Simon Riley

A/N: I hope this isn't redundant, because I was trying to be realistic based on his past & the way he interacts with other characters. got this template from @thathcwriter

Warning(s): mentions of Ghost's childhood, insecurities, substance abuse, injury, angst | Word Count: 1.6k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ have a request? | ao3 ver. ❀

A: Alleviate - How do they go about relieving persistent physical pain?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Let’s be honest. He self-medicates with alcohol or cigarettes if it’s a persistent enough injury. Either that, or he’ll just find a way to tune it out—something he’s very skilled at by now.

B: Bedridden - How do they behave when they’re sick?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Sick, but not “injured”? He wouldn’t even let it show. His voice is deep and raspy enough already (LMAO) so if he had a cold, would anyone even notice?

C: Cling - Whose physical touch is considered most welcome in their minds when they are in need? Is there a specific type of touch they respond well to?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Being realistic, Simon probably despises physical touch because of his past. Unless it’s someone he’s known or been serious with for a while, physical touch would be null and void. That being said, playing with his hands, or a kiss on his knuckle would probably make him crumble.

D: Deathbed - How would they react if they realized they may not recover from their injuries?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He’s well acquainted with the prospect of not making it home someday, or sustaining an injury too severe to overcome. He would accept it because he thinks that’s what he deserves :(

▹ He’d fight it as much as he could, and wouldn’t want anyone to see him that way. Conversations would be shorter, coarser, and even more depressive than his usual way of engaging with others.

E: Emergency - What is their gut reaction when someone they care about is hurt?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He jumps to the worst conclusions if he got wind of something happening to you. Too many of his loved ones/colleagues have ended up dead for him not to.

▹ Remember how he reacted when Soap got shot in the arm? Yeah… multiply that by ten and add some fury to the mix. ▹ Especially if it pertained to his work, he’d think it’s his fault (in the case of Civilian S/O). If you were also a soldier, he’d take a more frustrated/protective route, lecturing you on your “carelessness”.

F: Fight - Are there circumstances under which they would not accept treatment or care? If so, what are they? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ If it was in the middle of a mission, or minor enough that it felt ridiculous to tend to. If someone on his team/or his S/O was in worse condition, he wouldn’t even let the medic touch him.

G: Ghosts - How has their past shaped the kind of comfort they respond to best? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Being mocked and trained to not show vulnerability is his entire being, and he hates himself more for that. He doesn’t want to brood or miss out on things because of his childhood, but the ghost of his father looms heavy on every decision he makes—like a constant, sinister devil on his shoulder.

▹ He’s felt that way so long that he’s grown used to it, and doesn’t know who he is even when he takes the mask off at the end of the day.

H: Home - What things (objects, sensations, or people) remind them they’re safe after a scary situation?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ His colleagues, if anything. Soap being his ride-or-die, and a S/O that knows every reason for why he’s so walled up. If he has a picture of that person tucked away in his wallet, or an object they gave them (bracelet, card, etc.) he’d keep it in his desk drawer for safekeeping.

I: Isolation - How do they soothe themselves when no one is around to soothe them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Just like the response on “A” —he self-medicates with substances, or boxing in the training room until his fists are raw.

J: Joy - When was the first time they were truly happy after going through something terrible?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ For many years, he wasn’t “happy” at all, didn’t even know what that felt like. There were moments where he was distracted enough to not be thinking about his past experiences, but not permanent ignorance.

▹ Seeing his S/O after an injury that forced him on medical leave would be the only exception. He hates being away from work, but the silver lining is getting to be home with that person for (X) amount of recovery time.

K: Kindness - Do they believe they deserve the comfort they receive? Why or why not? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Hell no. Simon doesn’t for a minute think he deserves comfort, even though deep down he’s craved it for so long. Even if the person he’s with told him a thousand times, he would never believe it. He accepts it as more of a service to his S/O, rather than to soothe himself.

L: Levity - What or who helps them take their mind off of the circumstances? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 90% of it is his work because when you’re being shot at, you’re only thinking about not getting shot. The other 10% would be working out, drinking, etc… Not exactly taking his mind off things completely, but enough to do it temporarily.

M: Music - Is there a song that comforts them? Why is it comforting to them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He only listens to music to fill his ears when he’s stressed, or doing paperwork. For comfort? Nothing he listens to would give that to him, let’s be real.

N: Nostalgia - What things that comforted them as a kid still work today? Does anyone know that? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Much like his adolescent years, his comfort is everyone else’s silence. He doesn’t like being fussed over or poked at. The concept of “comfort” just isn’t something he knows. With the right person, he might find comfort in them—their quirks, their sense of humor, etc.

O: Overworked - Who or what tells them to stop working and take care of themselves?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Price has probably tried, or has to at least once a week.

▹ Something along the lines of: “Get some rest, Simon”—most likely met with a blank stare as he continues working through the night. Simon only rests when he needs to refuel, or something more important happens.

P: Please - Have they ever begged someone to comfort or stay with them? What was that incident like?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Before he met his S/O? Never in a million years. After? Probably only when he’s inebriated and needs someone to be with him, just until the problem passes, or you give your attempt at comforting him.

Q: Questions - Are they eager to talk about what or why they’re hurting? Why or why not?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ No - he’d jump off a cliff before he talks about his past with just anyone. It would take years before he tells someone what happened to him. In the back of his mind, he’s expecting the person to laugh at him, or reveal his insecurities :(

R: Relief - How do they react to the realization that they will soon be fully recovered? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He’s practically pacing back and forth until his medical leave is lifted—the medical leave he most likely bickered about placing him on at all.

S: Scared - What would it take for them to admit that they’re scared? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ If something serious enough happened, or a near-death experience with either himself or you that gives him a wakeup call. One of the hardest things for him to do would be to admit he’s frightened, especially with how much loss he’s already experienced.

T: Time - How long does it take for them to feel better after an ordeal or illness? Do they tend to lie about how soon they feel better?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ As soon as he’s mobile, he’s back to work (if it was something disabling). If not, he’d push his way through it and keep working. Surely, to his S/O’s disapproval, but he feels like he’s damned to constant punishment.

U: Ugly - What part of their recovery process are they ashamed of, if any?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Being reliant on another person physically, if necessary. Injuries come with the job, he knows that, but he would absolutely hate it.

V: Valiant - Has anyone told them they were brave for facing what they did? How would they react if someone did? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Let’s be real—most of us want to reassure him and his bravery, as has Price and Soap a million times (although they’re doing it in more of a “that was badass” kinda way). To be able to go through so much, and still be so resilient is almost unsettling. But brave, nonetheless.

▹ He would brush it off and likely change the subject :((

W: Why? - How did they process what happened to them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ He never fully processes an injury, including physical pain—especially if it’s a stray bullet or knife wound. Unless it was something especially gruesome, he’s got a high pain tolerance.

X: Xenas - Do they see anyone as an inspiration in their recovery? Does their inspiration know about this? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ (N/A - I don’t think it fits Simon if I’m being honest).

Y: Yearn - What gesture, person, or thing do they desperately want, but would never actually ask for? 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ This will probably hurt some feelings… He wants his mother, more than anything he wants his mom. He only got so much time with her, and those years were the worst of his childhood. She’s probably the only person he knows he truly wants, but can’t have.

▹ As I mentioned before, if he was serious about someone he was dating, he might want some comfort, but he would almost never explicitly ask for it.

Z: Zero - What is the best way to comfort them without touching them?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Words of affirmation would be your best bet.

▹ Physical touch is iffy, and he’d only allow it if he truly trusted the person. If you give the man praise, he’d hide his feelings until he was alone, and would probably think about it for the rest of the week—even if it was just an offhand compliment.

[special-agent-sass]

It’s my first time posting my writing. Go easy on me!

A Reckless Encounter

I've always been a fighter. From the moment I took my first breath in this chaotic world, I learned to battle against the odds that life threw at me. It wasn't easy, though. Growing up with an abusive father, I sought refuge in drugs and alcohol, drowning my sorrows in a haze of self-destruction.

But life had a funny way of throwing curveballs. One fateful night, my reckless ways caught up with me, and I found myself being arrested. As luck would have it, instead of languishing in a jail cell, I was given a chance at redemption in the Marines as an Automotive Maintenance Technician.

The Marines whipped me into shape, physically and mentally, and instilled within me a sense of discipline. After years of service, I decided to embark on a new journey as a field agent for Gibbs’ NCIS team. Gibbs, was an enigma—gruff, tough, and intriguing. And damn, did he stir something within me.

We clashed like thunder and lightning, our arguments a constant symphony in the bullpen. He berated me for my reckless behavior, and I shot back with my signature stubbornness. But beneath our heated exchanges, there were sparks of chemistry, a magnetic pull that had us tiptoeing the line between professionalism and desire.

One day, during a particularly tense mission, I made a costly mistake. Gibbs threatened to strip me of my field duties.

The team, briefing room. Now," he barks, his voice firm and commanding.

I walk into the room, feeling the weight of Gibbs' gaze burning into the back of my head. Tony and McGee sit on one side, exchanging playful banter. Ziva stands off to the side, her eyes flickering with curiosity.

Gibbs glares at me as he enters, his eyes filled with a mix of annoyance and concern. I try to avoid his gaze, but it's like a magnet drawing me in.

"Y/n," he starts, his deep voice cutting through the tension.

I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the onslaught of reprimands.

"You made a mistake out there. A big one," Gibbs continues, his voice low and controlled.

I clench my fists, feeling the anger bubbling up inside me. I refuse to let him treat me like a child.

"You can't keep going out on field ops if you're gonna put the whole team at risk," he growls. I feel a surge of adrenaline rush through my veins. This is it. The moment I've been waiting for. The moment where all my pent-up frustrations come to the surface

But I didn’t! Quit treating me like a damn rookie!" I shouted. "So either take me off field ops or get the hell off my back."

Gibbs looked like he wanted to slap me upside the head. But instead, he just glared and walked out without another word.

~time skip cause I’m lazy lmao”

Suddenly, my phone buzzes. A new case. I glance at Gibbs. But his steely gaze is fixed on me. Not in anger, but something else entirely. Gibbs breaks the silence. "Alright, Y/L/N, you think you can handle this mission?" Gibbs asked, his voice laced with skepticism. I knew he was questioning my abilities, but I wasn't about to back down.

"Of course I can, Gibbs," I replied, my voice dripping with confidence. "I've been through worse."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not amused. "Don't let your recklessness get in the way. We're dealing with dangerous criminals here."

I smirked at him, unable to resist pushing his buttons. "Would you prefer me to be cautious and boring?” Gibbs stepped closer. Our nose were millimetres apart. His icy blue eyes filled with rage. “Watch your tone, Y/L/N.” I took a second to process what he said before I smirked and said “Are we gonna fight or make out because I’m getting some mixed signals here, Jet.”

Gibbs froze, his jaw dropping slightly. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he processed my words. But before he could respond, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him speechless.

As the days turned into weeks, the tension between us grew. We argued, we clashed, and yet, there was an unspoken connection, a chemistry that neither of us could deny. We went through the motions, burying our feelings under Gibbs' infamous Rule Twelve.

But fate has a way of knocking sense into us when we least expect it. On one particularly dangerous assignment, I found myself in a life-or-death situation. The fear gripped me as I looked into the eyes of mortality.

And in that moment, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't hold back my feelings any longer.

As I lay there, battered and bruised, Gibbs rushed to my side. His voice was filled with worry as he yelled my name. And in a hoarse whisper, I confessed, "I don't want to die without you knowing how I feel."

And just like that, the floodgates opened. Gibbs confessed his own feelings, his voice shaking with emotion.

We had fought, we had argued, and we had danced around each other for so long. But in that moment, we both knew that love had a funny way of finding us in the midst of chaos.

The end

[xxtc-96xx]

I remember you and your friends trying to defeated annihilape (in tera raid) but he was clapping your pokemon's ass. I just found one too, a ghost tera-type. And I was thinking "hey Hisuian Zoroark is Ghost and normal type, so he's immune to ghost and fighting type move of Annihilape". But that dude had also a Dark type move bruh. He clap my ass so hard. It feels so unfair lmao. You can't lower his stats cuz of Defiant, burning him is meaningless because of his move Focus Energy, and even increasing your Def and SpeDef is useless.

He is the final raid boss of Pokemon lmao

I think, the only way of defeating him is to oneshoting him, otherwise rage fist will oneshot all your pokemon lol.

the funny part is we found another one that had flying, so I brought miraidon while they brought wigglytuff and did a skill swap (we did skill swap last time) so its defiant was gone, we clapped him easily this time though, then proceeded to get stomped by another tera type so yeah it's a conundrum when it'll be broken as all hell and when it's easy XD its the constant critical hits that drive us crazy

[sapphim]

Hiya, what is the broken earth trilogy about? I love book recs and I love dragon age but maybe you could give like a brief summary or something? I hope this doesn't come across as rude, English is not my first language

sure yeah I'm sure that once I give a synopsis it'll be really clear why I'm recommending it to Dragon Age fans lmao. it's very much playing in a similar fantasy space but like, the worldbuilding is phenomenal and the characters, idk, *clenches fist* they compel me

so the Broken Earth trilogy is set in a post-apocalyptic world known as the Stillness that is routinely visited every few centuries by world-shattering apocalypse events that kill off major swaths of the population. they can only be braced for and waited out, not averted. due to constant earthquake activity, humanity has been reduced to living in small, isolated, self-sustaining communities, with the exception of the luxurious city of Yumenes, which houses the continent's orogene population

orogenes are mages, able to harness and control the energy welling up from within the earth. they are taken from all over the Stillness to live and be trained in the Fulcrum, under the watchful eyes of the Guardians. if they aren't trained, they'd be nothing but a danger to themselves and to others, you see, and their communities might kill them first out of self defense. but without orogenes, society in the Stillness might collapse entirely

the series follows the lives of a number of orogenes as they are pushed to their breaking point and have to fight for survival in a hostile world. it's very concerned with how one creates and exploits a class of non-people, intergenerational trauma passed down from parent to child, and what might drive one to want to destroy the world and everyone living on it

there's also—because I know my audience—bisexual polyamory

I'll put content warnings for child abuse and sexual coercion and assault (this includes csa and child death) under the cut

content warnings apply mainly to the first book in the series. the following books don't touch on these things as heavily.

so the Fulcrum orogenes are enslaved persons, and are coerced by the Fulcrum into having sex with specific other orogenes for the purposes of breeding more orogenes. refusal to go along with this mandate can essentially blackball them from advancement within the Fulcrum and see them moved to undesirable postings, at best. one main character, Alabaster, has fathered multiple children against his will, and he and one of the viewpoint characters, Syenite, have some terrible unwanted (on-screen, but brief) sex that both were coerced into.

the main chapter which deals with this is The Fifth Season - chapter 4 - Syenite, cut and polished

now, warnings for child abuse, csa, and child death:

the series deals with very heavy themes, and neglect, violence, and death is simply a reality of life for children who are discovered to be orogenes, particularly at the hands of their family and other guardians. I'll list the most notable occurrences below

child abuse -

one of the more graphic moments of on-screen violence against a child occurs when Damaya has her hand broken, by a character who has positioned himself as her guardian, as a lesson in self-control. this level of violence is standard against orogene children taken to the Fulcrum.

the chapter in question in The Fifth Season - chapter 6 - Damaya, grinding to a halt

child abuse, sexual assault, and death -

it's revealed that a number of young orogene children are lobotomized, kept alive by doctors, and treated not as people but as earthquake-dampening machines operating on instinct. it's also mentioned that it's not uncommon for these children to be sexually abused. you see the aftermath of one of these abused children lashing out in self-defense, killing themself and those nearby.

the main chapter in question is The Fifth Season - chapter 8 - Syenite on the highroad

child death -

there are two major deaths of child characters, one of which occurred immediately before the start of the story as the story's catalyst, and one of which occurs toward the end of the first book.

the first instance is of Uche, who is a toddler. he is the son of the series' main character, Essun, and is beaten to death by his father in a fit of rage when he is discovered to be an orogene.

again, this occurs before the start of the series, although it is often referenced throughout.

.

the second instance is of an infant who is killed

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MORE DETAIL AFTER A SPOILER BREAK

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he dies at the hands of his mother, Syenite, who despairingly attempts to kill him, herself, and everyone in the area to prevent him from being taken to the Fulcrum.

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this happens in The Fifth Season - chapter 22 - Syenite, fractured

[thefirstradiant]

DEAN WINCHESTER!

Okay? Did I get y’all’s attention? I heard this song in the car a few day ago and immediately had a million thoughts. I also immediately began crying, thanks. This song cuts deep to Dean’s core (some Sam thrown in there too) and I think you all should give it a listen. If you care to read my line by line thoughts, they’re under the break because it got LONG lmao.

I made a home here in unsteady things

It was hard to think that I could ever leave

For me I see most of this song through Dean’s perspective, but that could also just be because I’m so Dean-coded that it’s also just my perspective. I’m picturing the constant moving around as kids with John and trying to make a home in the hundreds of motels. I’m picturing the Impala, adult Dean’s first real home, and how he brought Sam back into it. I don’t think Dean thought he could ever leave this life and at times he didn’t want to, even if it was unsteady.

So I gave my breath each time she couldn't breathe on her own

This is both of them, but from my Dean perspective of the song and the earliest time we see it in the series, this is Dean trading his soul for Sam. It’s also Dean as a kid giving Sam all his food and treats and energy and his everything so he could breathe just a little easier and contentedly.

I felt her scars and asked her nervously

Who was the thief that stole your certainty?

Demon-blood Sam to me. This is Dean scared of his brother and his powers and realizing that he may be more messed up by their childhood than he thought. This is Dean cursing himself for not doing a good enough job of protecting Sammy so that nothing could ever hurt him. Dean can see all the scars that that addiction left on Sam and it kills him and confuses him at the same time.

She didn't know, she lost it some time long ago

Oh Sammy. This part is just sad. No matter how hard Dean tried as a kid and young adult, Sam was already damaged. He was bound to fall into the demon blood addiction.

I've fought so long, it's what I do

My fists are fine, it's just my soul's a little bruised

Daddy’s blunt instrument. Soldier of Heaven. Ultimate Killer. Need I say more? This is Dean hearing everyone else tell him that fighting is what he does. He comes back every time so he must be fine right? Wrong. Some wounds aren’t visible.

But I'll stay on my feet until I lose

But I never learn to lose

My favorite lines. They give me shivers. This is what we know Dean for. The man who absolutely never gives up. Who would get back on his feet a million times over again for Sam. And then the “learn to lose” part. Throughout the show we see this in Dean. He doesn’t know how to process his loved ones leaving him or dying or their plans failing. He just needs that next “big win”. This is my favorite unfinished (thanks finale) exploration of Dean.

It's hard to know me

At least you tried

It's hard to love in the cold

And it's gotten so cold outside

Ah the chorus. Really punches home how Dean feels. He loves that Sam tried to know him and stay with him, even if he still can’t see that he ever deserved it. The cold gives me such amazing imagery here of desolation, of emptiness. It is HARD to love in the face of such emptiness that we see time and time again during the apocalypse events and times when the brothers get separated. But they’re still trying. They’re shivering in the cold, but trying.

My younger years went by so urgently

And left me grief that I'm still servicing

Quite obviously Dean. Just want to point out I love the word choices of urgently and servicing. I think Dean will always be servicing his trauma from John and his upbringing, but I just so wish we could have seen some conclusion to his attitude of not caring about himself at all. Stupid finale with the “it was always about you, Sam”. Dean deserved to love himself.

If good times change, why do the bad days stick around?

No thoughts just me crying over Dean sitting in the bunker, happy, maybe cooking and smiling with Jack. Sam’s reading the paper and drinking coffee. Sometime in the later seasons when they think they’ve won. And then Dean just feels this crushing weight and wonders why, when everything around him points to being happy, he just can’t feel it.

She said, I'll just keep going to be kind

To that same little girl who wondered why her parents cried

Ah back to Sammy. I could write a lot about Sam watching John abuse Dean as a child, but I won’t because it would go on forever. These lines feel to me like Sam as an adult trying to understand how different his childhood experience was from Dean’s and coming to terms with, yes, Dean may have seemed to have it worse, but that doesn’t mean Sam was unscathed. Sam realizes this and has to change his thoughts toward himself. Also Sam comforting Dean.

Cause she grew up and learned to lie like them

Dean watching Sammy grow up a hunter and fight and kill and all the things he really never wanted for his baby brother that he swore to protect.

I've tried to lie to you

But boy you listen to me with your eyes as well

In the song, this is still from Sam’s perspective and it’s really interesting to me with the closeness and codependency these brothers have. They don’t lie to each other well at all. It’s a forced closeness from their childhood and lifestyle where all they have is each other. This is Sam trying to persuade Dean to let him go his own way etc. Dean doesn’t listen well and sees Sam instead and how much he needs him, both because he wants to help him and because Dean is very codependent as well.

And it's hard to see me

At least you tried

It's hard to love in the cold

And it's gotten so cold outside

Beautiful chorus again. Makes me cry. This time saying “it’s hard to SEE me”. Dean almost never feels seen, even when people try to, because he just can’t accept their love unless he loves himself first.

Farewell my uncle

And farewell his son

I mean, this is the Winchester farewell to all the family that they’ve lost along the journey. The bitter cold outside takes its toll not just on Sam and Dean but everyone around them. Uncle of course makes me sad about Bobby again. And son could be a lot of different people. I read it a lot as Dean’s feelings about his “kids”. Claire, Alex, Jack, Ben… Just a very full circle moment to Dean saying goodbye to his childhood and trying to make a difference in some other kid’s experiences.

Farewell the pieces

Cause they're all I was

This is older Dean looking back on his years of hunting and watching all the pieces and fractures he was at the times. When he felt like he was only half there or had to put aside his grief because the world was ending, like it always was. I like to think Dean is trying to say goodbye to that. He wants to be whole, he wants to be happy but he doesn’t really know how. He never learned how.

Will you stay with me,

As I turn to dust?

Like I said, he never really learned how to “carry on”. In a part of his mind, he would just be turning to dust. Once the world is saved, once Sammy is saved, what then? He reaches out, clutching to whatever he knows, just wanting to not be alone. He finds Sam and Cas and family and thinks, maybe I can just stay like this. I still think he thinks he’s in some limbo, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When you tell their story

Tell them I was loved

Cries. Just,, Dean doesn’t even think of himself as the one to tell the story. He just passes himself by. Sam can tell the story. Sam can carry on. Also he doesn’t want to be this tragic story he’s been playing out for years. When he’s gone, just tell a happy story, tell about his favorite foods, his Impala, how much he loved cowboy hats. He doesn’t want to be a heavy burden even when he’s dead. Maybe in a bedtime story, he can be a firefighter in small yeehaw town without depression or a traumatic childhood. And maybe he can just Be.

So now you see me

For the first time

This song is Dean laid bare. His grief, his purpose, his pain, his love, his family, his fear, his determination, his strength, his Sam. He WANTS people to SEE him, but at the same time, he can’t put that heavy burden on anyone. Except he learns a little about how to place it on Sam towards the end. If anyone really Sees Dean, it’s Sam. And it took him a long time to see him “for the first time”.

It's hard to love in the cold

But boy, it's time I tried

And there we have the core of Dean. His love. His love in the face of everything. The fact that he TRIES. And TRIES. And TRIES AGAIN. He may not ever have thought he was good enough, but to so many, he was. He was more than good enough. He was the best. And they all loved him so much. Especially Sam.

*sighs* time to go listen to the song a few more times and cry about how Dean never got the chance to finish his story and his growth. We could have had Dean loving HIMSELF. That’s his ending. His real one.

[astromechs]

also 💛 for matt/jessica! (please)

this is the slowest i am ever circling back through anything LMAO but i missed these disaster children, so here we are ❤️ from this list; also on ao3!

When he comes to, everything’s disoriented. It’s the ringing in his ears that overtakes pretty much everything, making it impossible to get any bearings, relentless and painful; all that filters through is the scent of copper — blood, his own blood — and between that and the ringing, he can’t stabilize any sense of balance for more than a second.

Is this a concussion? Maybe; the last thing he remembers is being thrown into a wall, and the crack he’d heard had been an indication that his helmet hadn’t survived the impact completely intact. In the end, though, Matt can’t be sure — and he also can’t afford to waste any time trying to be, if they’re still out there.

Slowly, he reaches for what hard surface he can (pavement), curling both of his hands into fists as he pushes himself up; he tastes the copper as well as smells it now, more intensely than he has over the past few minutes, and he can feel the skin split from his knuckles. He swallows down bile, bites back nausea (literally, with the inside of his cheek caught between teeth), as he finds unsteady feet and wills himself to keep standing.

His heart rattles in his own chest; his breaths are rasping and shallow, caught only with difficulty.

But they can still, nevertheless, be caught. He can still get to work.

The sounds and smells of Hell’s Kitchen come back to him, one by one, as the ringing starts to fade. There’s the scent of urine and burned rubber wafting in from down the block, which, in combination with an entire assembly of every sugary Starbucks latte known to man passing by, almost makes that nausea come right back. Between cab horns being slammed and the constant rumble of engines around, there are snatches of conversation that reach him — discussions of plans for the rest of the night, relationship drama, more than one “Fuck!” about one forgotten item or another.

Nothing from anyone he’d been tracking, fighting. Somewhere in between him making contact with the wall and regaining consciousness, they’d had time to clear the area and go back to wherever their base of operations is, which he still hasn’t been able to track, even after following them every night for weeks.

Matt drives one hand still curled into a fist, which he hadn’t bothered to flatten, into the wall behind him. If he feels, hears, a bone snap, he ignores it; this is exactly what he deserves for letting these people get away again.

Footsteps coming from nearby, though, derail that line of thought and draw his attention, and so does what comes with it: a combined scent of leather, sweat, and whiskey that can only belong to one person he knows.

The breath he hears is hitched, the accompanying heartbeat quick and scattered; he swears he can pick up on a hint of salt in the air, and the realization has something sticking in his throat. There isn’t much time to put all this together, though, because in the next instant —

He’s nearly bowled over from the force of another body colliding with his, of lips crashing into his with absolutely no mercy.

It takes a second to regain what precarious sense of balance he’d managed to find, but he winds an arm around Jessica’s shoulder and pulls her in close as he can hear her heart begin to steady, opens himself up to the taste of salt, copper, and 80 proof, but what also, maybe, just maybe, seems like relief.

Not that she’d ever admit it — but there’s something warm and easy that settles in his chest at the thought.

Breaking apart comes slowly — and with breath much more difficult to catch than before. Her fingers are soft, a stark contrast to everything Jessica Jones nearly always is, as they reach for his face and graze over skin; her inhale is sharp, just subtly so, when they pause over something (where he figures the blood, at least in part, is coming from).

The helmet’s definitely going to need a repair, he thinks — and to be fortified with something stronger.

Her fingers drop, and with a swish of fabric, he assumes that she’s dropped both of her hands back down by her sides. The sounds of the city, never stopping for anyone or anything, fill in the space that’s returned between them; neons buzz, a man yells at a cab driver three blocks away, shoes scuffle against pavement, someone’s phone clatters out of their fingers, faint drops of rain begin to hit brick and metal hoods.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally steps into it, in a voice that’s still raspy even after he’s swallowed down the dryness in his throat. “What happened?”

“Luke,” is all she offers him at first, a shift in the leather of her jacket indicating a shrug. When he tilts his head, she huffs out an irritated sigh, and adds, “He and I beat the shit out of them when they beat the shit out of you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Under his cracked helmet, he lifts an eyebrow. “You called Luke?”

“Texted him, one-handed, while I punched a guy.” With the way he can hear her eyes moving in their sockets, it’s clear that she’s rolling them; actually, that alone is clear enough from the tone of her voice. “Don’t even start thinking about gift baskets, because he hates that shit, and so do I.”

He can’t help the faint snort that escapes him then. He also can’t help the grin that slowly begins to stretch on his face. “So you were worried about me.”

“Shut up,” Jessica tells him, with much less force than she could. “Or I won’t let you finish later.”

“Is that a threat, Miss Jones?” His grin spreads. “Because if so, I may have to call my —”

She cuts off his joke with another kiss before he’s able to even get it off the ground, and, honestly, Matt has to concede that doing so might be a benefit to everyone involved.

[smallnico]

Asks are back on the menus boys!

Hopefully I'm not repeating any of these but I think I might be, sorry. I'm on mobile and trying to memorize numbers which is something I'm not good at 5,6,13,26

asks are ALWAYS on the menu!! >:3 thank u for giving me an excuse to feast!!

and no, you're good! none of these are repeated. i also feel you on the memorizing numbers thing, i'm awful at it too, i literally need to repeat them aloud to myself on a constant loop so i don't forget them while i'm on mobile. :p

5. Describe their idle animations!

at camp, esper is usually either doing ballet drills to practice their form and flexibility, polishing their weapons, playing their lyre idly (doing the magic scanning thing i mentioned), or doing maintenance on their training dummy full of swords. sometimes you'll see them shielding their eyes from the sun like minthara does. if you're paying attention you can also catch them twitching or clenching their fist or rubbing their wrists -- that's the urge. you'll also hear them humming a little lullaby to themself, which is their main mindfulness tool when they're feeling agitated.

on the road, if you're standing still, esper will start stretching and loosening up so they're ready for a fight if one happens, or they'll be visibly listening to their surroundings and gathering information, especially if there are people around.

6. How would the player go about meeting them in Act 1? What is their introduction?

you run into esper near the crash site, already covered in blood and standing over a body that they've clearly taken clothes off of. they flag you down and ask if you're another survivor from the ship. they're cagey with information, admit that they have something squirming behind their eye and that they don't remember anything from before the ship. you can do the usual introductions and invitations to tag along, to which they'll be pleasantly surprised and introduce themself as "... sper. esper. i think."

but of course, if you pass a passive perception check, you'll notice that the body you found them with is looking a lot more Lacerated than the others you've seen near the crash site, and you can examine it using medicine or investigation. you can figure out that this person didn't die in the crash, they Were Killed, and you can point this out somewhere before esper explains their situation. they'll be straightforward and say that yes, they think they killed this person, but they don't remember doing it -- and an insight check reveals that they're actually Not Lying. to which other party members or you can nominate the tadpole as an explanation or tell them you'll be keeping an eye on them, which they'll meet with a little bow and say thank you, before introducing themself properly.

13. What is your Tav’s main color palette? Why do they choose those colors?

mostly black, lmao. i stylize a bit in my art so it looks more purple, but 90% of what esper wears is black fabric or leather and grey metal (and cobra-toned and earth toned yuan-ti scale mail!). for this one i'll explain using some party banter i wrote:

Esper: Astarion, do you know a good way to get viscera out of clothes? Astarion: Good table manners certainly help. Esper: But half the fun of spilling blood and tearing into flesh is the reckless carnality of it, the warmth of it dripping down your neck, into your -- Esper: (coughs) Um. Sorry. Astarion: ... Congratulations, I'm speechless. Do go on, dear. Shadowheart: You're both so disgusting. Astarion: To answer your question from before, salt in cold water does wonders, if you can't use magic. Astarion: Dare I ask what you've been doing instead? Esper: Wearing dark colours. Astarion: Mhm... that would explain the smell.

... all this to say, esper likes dark colours because they hide bloodstains better. very practical. they also feel silly and self-conscious in brighter colours. they don't like drawing too much undue attention to themself, and since they already stand out so much visually, they don't like to double down on that.

26. Give us one of your Tav’s secrets!

oh, where to start? apart from the obvious -- murder urges, bhaalist history, etc., all that is a pretty big secret. but i want to share some bonus esper trivia instead, so here you go, have many secrets:

esper is claustrophobic, especially when they're by themself. they don't know why, but it's because they spent a portion of their childhood locked in a dungeon alone except for people who occasionally came in to try and kill them. the brain forgets, but the body remembers.

they're also afraid of mirrors. they don't like looking at their own reflection outside of themself, it makes them feel dissociative, and they swear they can see Someone Else staring back through their eyes.

esper really relaxes if someone they trust is grooming them -- brushing their hair, cleaning their nails, that kind of thing. they really like having their hair tugged in a specific spot as an extension of this, because they used to have long hair they needed someone else to braid and maintain for them.

they have pointy teeth but they also have naturally tough and pointed nails. they start clipping them short after alfira.

they're fully nose-blind to the smell of death and gore. they do not notice it.

esper can literally hear lies and emotions. one of the things they were trained to do from childhood was tune into the passive magic in the world around them to listen for and interpret the "ripples" caused by people going about their business. they can also use this skill to hone in on where people are directing their attentions. this is the main tool they use to tailor their people-pleasing approach, but they also use it to be nosy. it's how they navigate the world without memories or morals or empathy.

they can also use this ability to manipulate people's emotions or redirect their attentions using very subtle magic, it just takes a bit of practice for them to remember how.

esper is missing some organs and bits of organs after their necromancer adventure. kressa took a kidney and a big chunk out of their liver in particular, since they're totally fucked from a lifetime of drinking poison (drow move), and now esper is a lightweight who gets sick from a small amount of alcohol or poison, and their constitution is kind of a hit or a miss lmao.

they're also missing some ribs for the same reason -- kressa took those as a souvenir. part of why i almost always draw esper wearing a corset or brace around their waist is because they're trying to compensate for an imbalance they feel in their muscle memory and to take some of the structural support strain off of their abs.

(yes, they've tried it. they didn't like it.)

[s-sh-ne]

echoes of the republic - one [series]

clone wars - obi-wan x f!oc

Four years ago, Anya Dashal left Coruscant heartbroken, promising herself she’d never set foot on the planet again. Since then, however, she has built herself into something so resilient - so unbreakable - that when the closest thing she has to a sister, Padmé Amidala, requests her presence on the planet following multiple breaches in the Senate’s security, she shouldn’t hesitate. Yet. Four years.She should be fine. It’s just a planet. Just metal and lights and air traffic and politics. That old wound, the one his loss had left, the angry painful gash in her heart, may fight against it, may make her want to stay on Bakura and hide; to keep being a bounty hunter and live day to day amongst drugs, alcohol and criminals, but she knows she has to. Because she owes her.

warnings: entire fic contains 18+ contents, minors dni, sexual contents, drugs use, traumatized oc, violence (this is war), angst, hurt/comfort - this chapter contains alcohol use, hint at panic attacks and mention of drug use (im treating spice as a drug that can be refined into something along the lines of weed) w/c: 3.6k a/n: chapter one lets fucking send it lmao, not really sure what my upload schedule is gonna be with this but ehh, i'll eventually figure it out. currently done exams and trying to fill the void of constant university school work with writing WOO

“Senator Amidala, I don't think this is the smartest idea you’ve had.”

Padmé Amidala was seconds away from throwing one of the many comlinks on her desk straight at Obi-Wan Kenobi’s face. He was standing in a corner of her office, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised. Anakin Skywalker was near him, his eyebrows knit in an uncomfortable frown as his eyes darted from his wife to his master. 

“General Kenobi, I appreciate your input but I do not remember asking for your opinion,” she gritted out, her fingers curling into a fist. She respected the man more than most Jedi, but when he questioned her intelligence over an idea she had spent months mulling over, she quickly lost patience. 

“Forgive my caution, Senator" he replied, his blue eyes sharper than ever. Anakin shifted, averting his eyes from the tension building in the room. Padmé had to take a deep, long, breath before meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes once more. 

“Anya Dashal was one of my most trusted handmaidens at some point in my life, and I still believe she would do me no wrong,” she retorted, her eyes narrowing, staring daggers at the Jedi. “And if you’re so worried, she owes me a debt, so I doubt she’d try anything.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose, and Padmé had to resist the urge to throw something at him again. She could see out of the corner of her eye her husband slowly retreating towards the door. Oh, he wouldn’t get away that easily. She wouldn’t forget that Anakin was the one to alert Kenobi of her actions. She quickly veered her attention to him. 

“General Skywalker, I do believe I told you this in confidence, as a friend, not as a politician looking for moral judgement from your fellow Jedi.” She smiled venomously at her husband, who looked like a hound with his tail between his legs. As angry as she was, his blue eyes shining with guilt made her loosen up just a bit. Maker help her, she loved him to bits. 

“Senator, I only believed this idea to be a bit… reckless.” she scoffed at his statement, and Obi-Wan followed suit, raising an eyebrow while stifling a chuckle. 

“I don't disagree with you Anakin, but you claiming something to be reckless is the strangest thing I’ve heard all morning,” he said, before turning back to Padmé. “Look, I understand you’ve thought about this, I just would advise you to be careful. This woman may have been trustworthy at some point in your life but how long has she spent away from politics? How long has she been dealing with the criminal world? Please, think about these things.” His eyes held true worry, and Padmé let out a long sigh. 

“I understand you both worry, but Anya is and will always be like a sister to me, no matter how many years it's been.” She stood from her chair, looking both of them sternly before adding, “Now, she will be here in less than a week, so I suggest you prepare yourselves. She’s nothing to be trifled with.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Anya’s heart was beating out of her chest as she stepped out onto the platform. It felt like the past four years had completely disappeared, Coruscant looking the same as when she left. The air was still just as polluted, the high rises still towering over her, the sun barely shining through the clouds. She knew she was requested in Padmé’s office as soon as possible, but her feet brought her to the edge of the platform, looking down at the underbelly of the city. 

It was a mess of neon lights and speeders but it looked just the same as when she left it. She  caught glimpses of the same dirty bars she would spend time in when he was doing his Jedi duties. She could smell the ghost smell of the death sticks and liquor she used to indulge in before he found her half conscious in an alley, his eyes never disappointed, just worried. She felt her hands trembling but didn’t tear her eyes away, instead kept looking, kept remembering her day long benders and his soft words when he inevitably found her. Her heart was beating faster, her head swimming in memories, her throat was closing up and-

Snap out of it Anya, you can’t lose it on a kriffing platform before seeing her. 

Anya snapped her eyes away, trying to ease her pounding heart and trembling hands. The attacks had gotten worse in the four years since his loss but she needed to remind herself that the world hadn’t ended with him and she had duties to fulfill. Duties she didn’t particularly want to fulfill, but she had promised Padmé. She took a deep breath and headed towards the two escorts the senator had sent for her. 

Fuck, she wasn’t looking forward to the next few months. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Hiding behind a mask of bravado was the only thing Anya could do to keep herself from vomiting from anxiety in the Senate building as her knuckles rapped against the tall door. The last time she saw Padmé Amidala was nine years prior, the day she left Naboo. Padmé had since then become a senator on Coruscant, while Anya, three years her senior, was still trying to figure out where she fit in the galaxy. 

“Come in!” Padmé’s voice echoed from inside the office, and Anya took a deep breath, plastering a smile on her face before turning the knob. She swung the door open, falling face to face with the woman she once called a sister. 

The senator sat at her desk, dressed in a delicate black tunic, exquisitely crafted with silver embroidery, and an imposing headdress. Padmé always had a flair for extravagant clothing and this was no exception. Anya suddenly felt underdressed in her simple form fitting leathers but the thought quickly left her mind as Padmé smiled at her brightly.

“Anya! It is so good to see you,” The woman said, quickly standing up and moving to embrace her. Anya held her arms out and hugged her, before pulling away and looking over her friends clothes.

“Stars, I should have put more effort in my appearance if I knew you were dressed like that.” 

Padmé stifled a laugh, smoothing over her tunic. “Oh please, this is nothing compared to my clothing as queen,” Oh the pair remembered too well the hours spent trying to get the stupidly extravagant dresses onto her frame. The ribbons, the laces, the layers, Maker help them, it was a task just lifting the damn things. 

“Never once did I envy Sabé for having to impersonate you.” Anya sat at the chair in front of the desk while the senator took her seat back behind the desk. 

“And always did I envy you for wearing such simple tunics.” Padmé retorted, the smile on her lips widening. “I still have yours by the way, on Naboo, they’re all tucked in a corner of my wardrobe if you ever want them back.”

Anya chuckled, leaning back against the chair, “I never want to see those things again Padmé.” The younger woman shook her head slightly at the comment, a smile still ghosting over her lips. 

“Well as much as discussing past fashion with you is riveting Anya, I did call you to Coruscant for more serious business.” The amused expression on Padmé’s face disappeared with her words, leaning over her desk. “I trust you’ve heard of the several breaches in security in both the Senate and the Jedi Temple in the past year? Since the war started?” 

Anya nodded, being all too aware of Cad Bane’s recent antics. She and Cal, a fellow bounty hunter, had heard of the things he’d pulled against the Republic in the past few months on Nal Hutta. 

“I, I need someone that knows the basics of working in the Republic and that is aware of the underbelly of the Republic as well. You are the perfect candidate for the job, and I implore you to help.” Padmé carried on, the look in her eyes growing intense as she got up once more. Anya knew this was why she was requested on Coruscant but couldn’t help but dart her eyes away from the woman. 

“Padmé, I don’t know if-” “Oh, spare me the morality lesson, I’ve heard enough from the Jedi.” Anya raised an eyebrow and Padmé waved her away before grabbing her hands. “Please, Anya. Just until the war calms down.” 

The other woman sighed, defeated. She knew she couldn’t talk her way out of this, especially not with a master diplomat.

“What do you need from me?” 

Padmé’s eyes lit up and she squeezed Anya’s hands before speaking. “You would work closely with the pre-existing intelligence team in both the Senate and the Order to locate any breaches or information that can help against the Separatists or outside forces. I don’t think you’ll be on the field much but with the way our missions and the Order’s have been going, it may be needed to collect some on site information. We also have some undeciphered datapads that could hold some crucial intel.” 

She rambled on about how many breaches they’ve had since the beginning of the war and that she thought about bringing her in for the past year, but Anya’s mind wandered. She couldn’t deny that the idea of getting her hands on some technology she could decode at her will, without the risk of being arrested, made her fingers itch with excitement. This was the most enticing job she’d received in months and suddenly, the weight of being back on Coruscant relieved just a bit. 

“Anya?” 

She was startled out of her thoughts by Padmé, who apparently had finished speaking for a few seconds now. Her head was slightly cocked to the side, an amused smirk plastered on her face. 

“Sorry, sorry, lost in thought.” She replied, feeling her neck get slightly warm. “Look, I’m not for the idea, but I owe you way too much to refuse, Naberrie.” Padmé’s lips widened into a warm grin at the mention of her old nickname and clapped her hands excitedly. “So, when do I start?” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The sun had set by the time the two women were finished talking business and Padmé was showing her to her new home. They were escorted by a handful of guards to a tall glass-paned building with large balconies and impressively crafted metal arches in the middle of the senate district of Coruscant. Anya felt a lot more out of place as they descended from the speeder and Padmé thanked the guards, who stood guard at the entrance. 

“I.. I’m staying here?” Anya croaked out, craning her neck to look at the height of the building. Stars, just one room in this monster would probably cost her a year's salary as a Senate worker. Ten for a bounty hunter’s pay. 

“I hope that’s alright, the top floor is my penthouse, so I secured a small apartment a few floors down, no need to pay or anything, it came with my apartment.” Padmé said, with such normalcy that Anya had to remind herself of just how rich her friend was. There had been a time where this was normal for her too, but after almost a decade of living in Outer Rim territories and no contact or financial help from her family, she had forgotten the luxuries of political life. 

“If I ever reject living in a place like this, take me out back and shoot me, because that is not me. I haven’t slept on a proper bed in ages,” she mused, already dreaming about a plush mattress. 

Padmé laughed, walking towards the row of glass elevators decorating the back wall of the lobby. Anya could not take her eyes off the ornate vaults on the ceilings or the intricate mosaics coating the walls, waiting for the elevator while Padmé talked about the best markets close by. When the elevator arrived, Anya was once more taken aback at the view the small space offered on the entire city. 

“Fuck, you live like this everyday?” She breathed out, nose almost plastered to the glass like a child in a zoo. 

“You get used to it,” Padmé lilted. 

By the time they’d reached the floor where her apartment was, the sun had completely set, the city now illuminated by the artificial lights of the surrounding buildings. It was just as beautiful as she remembered it, one of the rare things she still loved about Coruscant. They were on one of the top floors of one of the tallest buildings in the city and while it took a second to get used to, Anya felt the excitement pulse through her body as Padmé led her to an ornate door with a code lock. 

“The code’s the same as what I told you to tell Traffic Control, 033171,” she explained while pressing the corresponding numbers. The door slid open, revealing an apartment worthy of her dirtiest fantasies - kriff, she knew was getting old when an apartment she didn't have to pay for was the filthiest thing she could imagine. “It isn’t much but I thought you’d like it.” 

Anya gaped at Padmé, then back at the extravagant yet quaint living room sprawled in front of her. It was simple, sure, but it was larger than her old apartment by a long mile. The windows on the back wall were floor to ceiling, revealing a balcony and the sprawling cityscape beyond. Stars above, the couch alone looked like the most comfortable thing she’d seen since she left Naboo. She walked, taking in the small kitchen attached to the living space. It was white marble from head to toe and Anya didn’t even want to guess just how much this entire place cost. 

“Not much? Padmé, you severely overestimate the living situations in the Outer Rim.” Anya said, running her hands over the counter - fuck that was real marble - and directing her attention to the balcony. She almost tripped over the low coffee table before realizing that there were no windows, just two open arches with sheer curtains flowing the soft breeze. 

“I had some people replace the horrible windows that were there before,” Padmé explained, “Reminds me of home.” 

And she was right. The carefully crafted vaults were a popular aspect of Nabooian architecture, and Anya almost longed for her home planet before shoving away the feeling. She stepped out onto the balcony, now realizing just high up she was. The lower levels of Coruscant were several kilometers beneath her and yet its lights still reached her eyes. She forced herself to look away, and spotted the Senate Building they were in just earlier today. 

“You can even see the Jedi Temple if you look a bit more to your right.” Padmé said from behind her. Of fucking course she could. She ignored the tightening of her heart and cleared her throat.

“So you also live here?” Anya changed the subject quickly, hoping to put off any conversations about the Jedi until later. Padmé didn’t seem to notice the abrupt switch and smiled, pointing at a couple of floors above hers, to a large opening in the building. 

“Yes, that’s my balcony, over there. A tad larger than this,” She joked. Tad larger, her ass. The entire thing was larger than her entire apartment. It was angled enough that she could see a bit of the interior, even from where she was standing. Anyone glancing down from Padmé’s apartment could see the entirety of her balcony. 

“Damn, I would’ve stayed in politics if I knew it meant this.” Anya quipped, leaning against the glass railing. 

“I did try to convince you.” 

“As much as I appreciate luxury living, I’m much happier you failed at that.” 

Padmé chuckled before retreating inside the apartment. Anya followed, impatient to explore the rest. The other woman showed her to her bedroom, a smaller room but with just as much beauty. It wasn’t much, just the biggest, most enticing bed Anya had seen in years, a shelf drawer and a desk, but it was pure luxury in her eyes. The window, this time an actual pane of glass, had the same view as her balcony. For better or worse, she could just spy the Jedi Temple and Senate Building in the distance. 

“This is amazing Padmé, holy shit.” Anya said, sitting on the mattress, which yes, was the comfiest thing she’d ever sat on. To hell with uncomfortable ship seats or the cost of Bakura, she was never leaving this bed. 

The senator was leaning against the doorframe of the room, eyeing her with an amused look. 

“You know, you could absolutely pass as someone that hasn’t grown up in one of the richest families on Naboo,” she said, a smirk dancing across her lips. 

“Oh shut up,” Anya returned, throwing one of the plush cushions at her friend. Padmé ducked out of the way, laughing, just as her commlink rang. Her eyes darted to it, her expression softening. She let out a small giggle and rolled her eyes. 

“Who’s that?” Anya inquired, searching Padmé’s newfound expression for clues. 

“Ah, no one,” she dismissed, sheepishly smiling at her, “I do have to make my way up, unfortunately, I have some business to attend to before I turn in. I did leave a bunch of encrypted datapads in one of the drawers in the living room. Most likely just minor information, but feel free to have a look.” 

“Uh-uh, alright.” 

Anya didn’t push further but she watched Padmé leave with a watchful eye. Her friend was hiding something, but she couldn’t blame her. Maker, the things she hadn't told Padmé probably outweighed the mystery identity of whoever was sending her messages past working hours. 

As she heard the door slide to a close, Anya let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She was alone for the first time since she reached Coruscant and her heart and mind didn’t seem to know how to feel about it. The only part of her that seemed sure of something was her stomach, who was now grumbling louder than an angry gundark. 

“Might as well,” she mused, pushing herself off the bed. She walked to the kitchen, toeing the pillow she’d thrown at Padmé out of the way. She was still in awe of the disgustingly luxurious apartment that was now hers. While she was apprehending the actual job, she couldn’t help the warmth spreading in her chest at having an actual home. It had been too long. 

She continued her mission to find something to ease her growling stomach, searching the cooling drawers of the kitchen and the pantry. Padmé had left her with basic ingredients as well as prepared dishes, and, stars bless her soul, bottles of Corellian wine, whiskey & Nabooian amber liquor. 

She poured herself a generous glass of top shelf Corellian whiskey and sat at the couch, reheating one of the pre-made meals. Looking around the living room, she recalled Padmé mentioning some datapads, and the familiar itch returned to her fingertips. Setting down her cool glass, she padded over to the drawers across from the sofa. She found music disks that would fit in the screen setup right above the drawers, books that she would probably never read, and more miscellaneous items for her entertainment, but no datapads. Before moving on to the next drawer, she grabbed a disk, slipping it into the slit in the screen. Soft jazz music filled the air, and she hummed contentedly. She opened the next drawer, finally finding those datapads. There were about half a dozen, chock full of separatist intel by the looks of the encryptions buzzing on the screens. 

She sat back at the grossly plush couch and got to work, nursing her whiskey, the soft tunes accompanying her fingers dashing across the screens. The smell of fresh food wafted through the air, and the sounds of the city hummed in the background. All that was missing was a spice joint, and she’d be perfect. 

Yeah, she could get used to this. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few days later, Padmé smiled smugly at her husband, sitting across from her at breakfast. Anakin was still waking up, his eyes tired with sleep. His robe was hanging over his muscled body, and he was helping himself to a cup of coffee, dark circles under his eyes. 

“Ani.” Padmé spoke from her chair, savouring the view of her not-so morning-savvy husband. 

“Hm?” Anakin didn’t bother looking up as he served himself breakfast. “Remember that ‘reckless’ idea I had,” she inquired, making a point of air quoting ‘reckless’. “About Anya?” 

“Yeah?” He replied slowly, his eyes now trained up to meet her amused look. He was treading in dangerous territory and he knew it. 

“Take a look at this,” she lilted, sliding a datapad over to him. “This is how much she decoded being here four days and not even starting her actual job yet.” 

He sighed before grabbing the datapad with his metal hand, his eyes slightly widening at the sheer amount of information that was presented. A lot more than his currently sleep-fogged brain could process, stars above. 

“Fuck, Pads, where did you even find someone like this?” He breathed out, still scrolling. 

“I told you, she's the best of the best.” She took a sip of her coffee before adding for good measure, “You can tell your dear master about it too,”

“You just want to prove Obi-Wan wrong,” her husband mused.

“Well perhaps I do, but I do believe you also owe me an apology.” 

“Maker help me, remind me never to cross you again”

TWO Series List

[niamhlavellan]

I went off on an insane tangent on bsky about it, but the irony of constantly seeing the constant takes of "wolf/halla solavellan is Such A Straight And Cis Trope." and then seeing mlm solavellan wolf/halla art cross my fyp is beautiful. 💚

I just rly wish ppl would stop assuming and making snap judgements about other people's oc's & ships and generalizing lmao. I'm not saying the stereotypes don't exist, they do.

But

1. This is fandom, wish fulfillment. Who cares.

2. Lots of heavy handed assumptions towards the fans of a character who is like a magnet for queer folk.

And also, I mean - if a trope isn't your thing, thats fine - but you don't need to predicate your posts dragging it. You should feel confident in your writing to let it stand on its own. "I HATE strawberry jam. It ALWAYS has seeds in it and frankly, I hate seeds, the people who make strawberry jelly and eat it? Ugh. Now, here is my grape jam that I've prepared!"

Like damn, you coulda just posted the grape jam, why waste the time yapping about something you DON'T like. It shouldn't have any bearing on your writing. Dragging what others like to lift your own work up? When it's frankly, a common and extremely vanilla trope?

"It doesn't make SENS-" my brother in the chantry, I've seen discussions on how actual canon lore doesn't make sense, why does it matter if someone wants some bodice ripping romance tropes?

And ultimately its just extremely frustrating becos nobody should need to list out what they identify as and what their oc's are to avoid someone making an assumption based off a trope. Like that's wild to me lmao. Don't assume what someones oc's are/aren't, just like you wouldn't assume what their creator is/isn't.

I'm nonbinary queer. So is Niamh. Post VG - she does not adhere to a gender binary because of Character Reasons (she too was once a spirit worm. Her arlathan self struggles heavily with the idea of a body at first, despite being Curiosity, she's like this is Weird! Not sure i like all of this!!) Niamh isn't wolf/halla coded (she is literally wolf/Weird Wolf Girl trope.) tbf, but the idea that people are gonna assume shit about myyyyyy oc because of how she may present herself is crazy lmfao. Especially when I use her to fulfill my nonbinary/genderfluid wish fulfillment post-vg.

Idk man, it's just wild to me because i know Straight Solavellans exist, I've seen some. "He would not say that shit.jpg" solas stuff. There's also the fuckass Terf- I'm not gonna call them Solavellans becos frankly I don't consider them people, let alone fans. Idek what they're doing with a character like Solas especially post-vg lmao.

But again, this is a character who absolutely attracts a very queer audience, and assuming and also acting as though everyone MUST explore their identity in a specific way, and if they use this trope or that trope, it means it's Painfully Straight is ridiculous lmao.

There's also a weirdly gross underlying misogynistic vibe to it that isn't great, and I wish ppl would just, idk. Realize that its bad enough the fandom at large wants to fist fight Solas outside the waffle house - why are you downing solavellans just vibing? Not saying you need to read/enjoy what they put out, but they're not your enemy.

Like idk, I'd rather take 478484743638858563 Straight Solavellan posts than having to go into the tag and seeing someone post in graphic detail about how they want to murder him for real and making fan art of it, you know?

Edit to add as well: this does not include solavellans who see solas with a man or a trans oc and break out into hives, they are weak and will not survive the winter either.

[otakween]

Digimon Data Squad (Savers) - Episode 45

ASDFGHJKL I SO CALLED IT!! I've been getting dad vibes from BanchouLeomon this whole time but they tricked me with the Yggdrasill reveal. I never thought his soul would be in a different body, I thought it was just repressed or something. I feel vindicated now lol. My prediction powers usually kinda suck.

Now I gotta know the backstory behind this sorcery...

Notes:

This episode was pretty ugly, like that overly detailed/overshaded style. It looked okay in some shots, but there was more bad than good. Unfortunate for such a big episode. Made it lose some of its impact.

Way too much name shouting in this one. Was getting sick of Agumon's constant "ANIKI! ANIKIIIII!" (Also "PIYOMOOOON!")

Why were the digimon not able to destroy those "security" crystals but then Ikuto easily dispatched them with a normal boomerang? 😑 this season has a lot of questionable moments like that.

Even though it was really brief I appreciated the cut away to the adults attempting to solve the apocalypse. It'd be pretty pathetic if they just left everything up to Masaru and friends.

Kind of awkward that Piyomon and Chika had their epic confrontation moment only for Craniummon to be like "actually, I'm a good guy now lol." Oh well, Chika sounded badass when she said "we're your opponent!" Wish Garudamon digivolved another level

Again, why is Gotsumon still HERE!? 😒

They did the "theme song plays at an epic moment" thing (in the sub) but it didn't hype me up because I don't really like this show's theme song lmao.

It was kinda weird how the digimon used offensive attacks to boost Masaru up? Like how did they know that wouldn't hurt him? I guess it's like the Adventure moment where that happens.

I like how Masaru thought one punch would magically fix everything? Sorry, but he's pretty stupid lol. (To be fair, it has worked for him before).

I did a little fist bump dance at the BanchouLeomon reveal lol. I KNEWWW ITTTTT

I really thought there were more royal knights to fight but I guess not? What the heck happened to the others?