#these two destroy me too

[pink-a-link]

Just a thought. but Goldie and Freddy’s hat symbolism has to be my favorite little analysis quirk thing ever (as of recent). I was looking at how these brothers reflect each other in the way they mope about and slope their shoulders when they feel ashamed or guilty, and it’s such a great parallel with their ear movements signifying distress especially.

I mean, just look- they emulate each other so well >:U

But I was thinking about how Freddy was shown to be nice in recent comics, old ones too (because come on, the fandom demonized him way too much and he’s not as mean as he seems—except for when it comes to Goldie—just very grumpy at times!). And just him comforting his friends, and being there for them, more than just a leader or dictator like he’s made himself to be, which is enabled by the company too. I loved how he brought himself down to their level in this scene.

Not physically, because he’s already there lol, but emotionally, and almost mentally. From his ears in the panel before we know he’s nervous, but most importantly he takes his hat off. The hat that illustrates his status as their leader, and also how he dictates over them. Like it’s an added pedestal to his stance. It demands authority when reminders are needed, and he takes it off for his friends, his bandmates.

BUT WHEN GOLDIE APPEARS!!!!

Freddy puts his hat back on, like he’s demanding authority and respect (or rather fear in Goldie’s case) once again. He hasn’t taken his hat off for Goldie in years. And I just love that. Like a lot.

Bonus points for when Goldie’s hat is removed and now he’s vulnerable again. (They barely take their hats off because they’re always in their roles/positions)

[zillychu]

On their way to Bambouche, the party stops by a restaurant. A nice meal is had, the sun is setting, the day is winding down.

Until Siffrin sees the couples' deluxe dessert special on the menu.

"Quick, someone pretend to be bonded with me!" Siffrin slaps the menu down with a sweaty palm, fire in his eye and maybe a little drool on his chin.

Odile's hand is on Isabeau's shoulder with the speed and expertise of a handler whose dog was just offered bacon.

"Isabeau," She speaks calm and quiet, as Mirabelle and Bonnie scoot in close to Siffrin, oo-ing and aa-ing at the lavishly illustrated confectionary. "Wait just a moment."

"Madame..." Isa whines with such a shake to both voice and legs (had he really already been on his feet?), that Odile returns to the dog metaphor. She nods her head towards the three at the other end of the table.

They all look as desperate as Isa does right now, starry-eyed and giddy as they point out the obscene number of strawberries, the generous portion of vanilla-bean ice cream, and ooh is that lava cake? It's huge, but they can afford it at 50% off!

"I know you need this like a drowning man needs air," Odile doesn't even keep her tone down this time, she's hardly the only one with at least one eye. "but consider:"

Siffrin, Mirabelle, and Bonnie look up at them, curious.

"It would be hilarious to see Siffrin and Mirabelle fail at this spectacularly."

Silence falls across the table. Hands shake. A dry throat tries to swallow.

Isa quietly sits back down in his chair.

"S-sorry, Sif..." Isa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

"HAH!!!"

"Madame you traitor!!"

"Wait wait wait Isa hold on, we could still--"

"Ah-ah, Isabeau made his decision. Don't be a sore loser now."

"Oh Change--okay, okay I can do this. We can do this, Siffrin!"

"Belle, Belle! Give Frin one of your earrings!"

"... Oh no my ears aren't pierced, why did I never pierce my ears??"

"Just, uh... stick it on your cloak? That might be obvious enough! I think!"

"Okay, yeah--w-wait, what's our story?"

"Story? We need a--oh Change of course we need a backstory! What if they ask us how long we've been bonded?"

"We'll just, we can, um--"

"The waiter's coming back, quick hurry up!!"

-----

A waitress stands next to a portly man in a fine dress shirt, the two of them watching the commotion as the new guy (oh, poor Oliver) tries his best to handle delivering a final dessert order to Vaugarde's Saviors--and finding out Housemaiden Mirabelle is, apparently, betrothed.

He's handling it about as well as his previous interactions, having been ordered not to call attention to the heroes' identity or fame, give them some space to breathe. Things certainly would go a lot smoother if he had any semblance of a poker face, but at least three of them seem to trust his feigned ignorance.

The Housemaiden and her companion with the cloak look like they're about to melt off the table by the time Oliver starts walking off with an empty tray. The kid with them is already digging in, picking off strawberries and laughing uproariously while the tall gentleman across from them vibrates in fits of giggles.

"... Do they know... we would have given them the cake for free...?"

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[demigods-posts]

me personally. i wouldn't have gone after all the olympians at once. you're biting off more than you can chew here. all you would need to do is take each olympian out one by one. and then convince demigods that once enough people stop believing in a diety, that diety ceases to exist. which is not a lie. and you could use the death of pan to back yourself up. sure, you'd be in it for the long haul. but chess isn't meant to be a quick game.

[ruporas]

endless love!

[ID Two drawing collage pages of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. In the first collage, top corner, Wolfwood looks upwards disgruntled with a flushed expression, lying against a pillow, as his hair is being pet by Vash's hand. Next shows Vash and Wolfwood from behind, Wolfwood with his top bare and hickies covers around his nape area. Vash lifts hair away from his nape and asks, "More?" Wolfwood nervously says, "No." Next is a side profile of Vash, his arms around Wolfwood from behind while Wolfwood rests his hands against Vash's arms. Next to this are two smaller drawings; Vash turns to Wolfwood and says repetitively, "Wolfwood, Wolfwood..." Wolfwood, not looking at him, says "What?" He finally turns his head and looks shocked as he exclaims, "So close!" Vash says plainly, "You just noticed?" Below these is a drawing of Vash and Wolfwood sitting together as Vash kisses and hugs him from behind with his right arm around Wolfwood's neck and his left hand around his side. He also has his right leg propped against Wolfwood's knee. Bottom of the page has a comic. Wolfwood looks annoyed, speaking to himself, "Where is that idiot?! Need to get out of town before--" A chat bubble exclaims, "Wolfwood!" The next panel shows Vash running from the townspeople, small text saying "Get him! Vash the stampede!". Wolfwood, mad and about to pull the Punisher off his shoulder, says, "Argh, you fucking dumbass!" Vash exclaims, "Ah, don't!" before pulling Wolfwood into a quick kiss. He then tugs on Wolfwood's collar and says, "There's no need to shoot, just run!" Wolfwood stammers, "R-right..." with a flushed, dumbstruck expression.

Second collage; Top left, Wolfwood spoons Vash in bed, his arms around his chest and the other beneath Vash's head. Vash has his hand on top of Wolfwood's as he sleeps while Wolfwood lies awake. Behind this drawing is faint sketches of Vash's face. In a small panel, Wolfwood hides in Vash's neck as he mumbles to himself "Stop. Stop thinking embarrassing things, Wolfwood..." Beneath this drawing is another of them in bed, Vash now turned to Wolfwood and a hand on his cheek as he kisses him good morning. In a simpler style, Vash wraps an arm tightly around wolfwood with the text "snork mimimi" next to him while Wolfwood says, "We need to get up. Spikey! HEY!" In this corner, there are faint sketches of Vash and Wolfwood; one of them looking at each other; Vash kissing Wolfwood's forehead; Wolfwood saying, "Hand" with an outstretch hand and Vash says "ok" behind a drawing of them holding hands, both turned away from each other shyly. Next is a 4 panel comic. First shows Wolfwood's face getting squished by Vash's hands with the text "squish" around his face. Next, his cheeks are stretched with the text "Chee--" Wolfwood then hits Vash's face with his palm, exclaimining "That hurts!" The last shows Vash on Wolfwood's lap, smiling to himself as he continues to have Wolfwood's face in his hands. Next to this is another comic; A close up of their hands, Vash holding Wolfwood's with both of his. He then kisses the palm of Wolfwood's palm and says, "They're soft!" Wolfwood looks at him with flushed cheeks, "There's no way that's true..." END ID]

[sugarfortia]

They are just a big old creature to me.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[waitineedaname]

not romantic or platonic but a secret third thing (bonded pair)

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

if Crozier had a nickel for every time someone close to him kept a mortal wound secret from him he'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but it's definitely enough to give him some very specific trauma for the rest of his life

[zhukzubast]

Back to it. My unhinged essays on Evil Morty's connections to various Ricks

3/5 (part 1, part 2)

Rick Prime

So Rick Prime, huh. What a guy. Such an elusive character. So little known about him. But here's a funny thing: for all of Evil Morty's dismissiveness towards the guy in Unmortricken, it's almost impossible that he didn't know of him.

With how many Ricks' brains Evil Morty had scanned, he must have stumbled upon information about Rick Prime somewhere. He saw C-137's memories, for goodness sake! His disregard for Prime seems intentional, in light of this. The Big Bad? Nah, just another shitty grandpa. The only thing that briefly managed to make him care was the Omega Device. And once that was secured he didn't even bother killing Prime personally.

Was it Prime's (presumed) lack of crimes against Mortykind that allowed Evil Morty to brush him aside so easily? The worst that guy ever did to Morty Prime was abandon him. And for all of C-137 assurances that Prime really, truly does not give a shit about his own grandson, Evil Morty bet on him hesitating to kill Morty Prime in cold blood. And won.

Before Rick Prime met his end he had a brief interaction with Evil Morty and then Rick C-137. In both he was on the ropes, thoroughly deafeated, rambling on with barely any acknowledgement from his opponents. But i would argue that the interaction with Evil Morty had him more out of his element than getting literally beaten to death.

And why wouldn't it! Prime is used to being hunted, to people wanting him dead. His way of dealing with that could imply "passively suicidal" just as much as "reckless overconfidence". He is a Rick, after all. Hell, it seemed like he had a whole speech for C-137 prepared for the occasion that his luck finally ran out.

What he's not used to is being dismissed, to being a means to an end.

It's funny that, even after figuring out Evil Morty was not your regular old Morty, Rick Prime was still so damn far from seeing the whole picture. His warning to C-137 makes it obvious that Prime still thought that Evil Morty was his Morty in some way. Still thought that the kid was yet to "get mad at grandpa".

Rick Prime died knowing his downfall was underestimating a Morty, but he had no clue by just how much. And maybe that's a cosmically appropriate punishment. The man who valued intellect above everything else goes out a sucker. But i can't help but wish he'd found out.

And just imagine what could've happened had the two met earlier. What if they were forced by circumstances to communicate, or, god forbid, even collaborate? Would they notice they both have a flare for dramatics, a love of sci-fi aesthetics, and a shared hobby of doing everything in their power to be left alone, collateral damage be damned, only to then eagerly jump at the first opportunity to interact with people who disturb their solitude? And if they did notice the similarities, i wonder which one would be disturbed by them more.

…i want Prime back from the dead for this teamup alone.

[huginsmemory]

Reading journal 3 again is a reminder that... Well Ford is kinda an asshole towards Fiddleford. It's not just Stan. Like he's so focused on himself and his project and his ambition that anyone/thing else blurs out (him disregarding Fiddleford's nervousness around the gremloblin because he wants to sketch it, and when it goes sideways, him talking about the safety of the project parts BEFORE how Fiddleford was doing in his journal, multiple times. Priorities much?) and he's demeaning towards Fiddleford's own project (which ends up being wayyyy more important then Ford's discoveries)... Like damn Fiddleford, u left ur wife and young son for this guy?

[rexonalapis]

it is very telling that average genshin players cannot comprehend seeing an actual mature, qualified leader that is actually good at taking her job seriously after meeting archons who either is still childish, clowning whimsically, or straight up incompetent.

[harukapologist]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKOTO!!!💙

[astralhope]

I keep thinking about this moment.

Even in that terrible pain, even if the chaos was taking over him once again, Astral's gaze softened the moment he looked at Yuma.

And immediately after that, Astral was able to contrast 96's power.

Even if he was being hurt, he kept protecting Yuma until the end.

And before doing what would destroy him, Astral gave Yuma one last tender look.

I think about it a lot.

[l3irdl3rain]

How is my best friend Arthur has he helped you baldur any gates

He’s been good! My washing machine broke last week and I hauled it out the other day in preparation for the new one and he’s been loving his new Top Secret Hiding Spot.

We are taking a little bit of a Baldur’s Gate break right now just because I was getting burnt out. We’re slowly making our way through Mass Effect Andromeda for the second time. I’m very excited to get back to BG3 tho.

I left off right at the start of Act 2. I’m playing a Githyanki monk named Ez’rai and spent way too much time coming up with a backstory for them. I’m going to be romancing Wyll this time. I think Ez’rai growing up in such a harsh culture that didn’t have room for soft romance will go together in such a fun and cute way with Wyll. A noble’s son who is just so sweet and romantic and good.

[dykedvonte]

Ulysses obsession with the Courier is a special type of sad to me cause the Courier’s part was so important but so unwitting. They had no idea what was in the package they delivered and neither did he. Neither had an idea of what it could’ve done and the Courier was only caring out their job (mind you the Courier could be killed via notes in the express contract if they don’t). To them it was just another regular delivery to the divide and one that they likely thought would help, just like all the ones before.

It’s so tragic for Ulysses to hold so much ire to the Courier when it really was the case of it could’ve been anyone. Anyone could have delivered that package but they did and so he focused the blame on them and it destroys what he is trying to instill in the courier on a fundamental level.