#this originally was going to be a reblog but i wanted to make it my own post as to not bother op

[kaija-rayne-author]

Do whatever you want, believe whatever you want. And using Veilguard as any sort of source for anything remotely related to canon Lore is just ridiculous. It's so... awful, IMHO, to use it to defend any sort of point.

I'm not certain if this would be considered critical, so I'll put it under a cut. Potentially critical of Veilguard.

Though I'm really just talking about the Lore.

I point out 4 massive retcons in Veilguard that blew my mind and that I see people commonly using as arguing points. And yes, if someone wants to pay me for the time, I can prove all of it with sources.

What little canon Lore they actually used in Veilguard? They twisted beyond recognition.

Just a few examples.

1. The blight is NOT, in fact, (or even in Veilguard) 'everywhere in the Fade'. It has always been contained to the Black City, that floats disconnected from everything else in the Fade. It's why the previously golden city is black ffs! Even in Veilguard, it's really damned obvious that the Fade isn't full of blight. We hop in and out of the Fade throughout the whole damned game like it's a shopping mall.

2. The Fade is not full of demons. Demons are spirits (people) of emotion. What usually twists them into demons is coming through the veil! The only reason there was the big demon in DAI is because it was attached to Coryphyfish. There's probably some, but it's an arguable point that an emotion spirit of, say, anger, or spite is actually a demon. Emotions aren't bad. They wouldn't automatically be demons simply because they reflect a negative emotion.

3. The veil has been canonically choking the life and magic out of Thedas for thousands of years. If the veil didn't come down, there would be no Thedas. This is clearly spelled out in canon. The veil was never meant to be part of the world. At the end of Trespasser, the veil is as holey as my grandmother's doilies. It's not as they tried to depict it in Veilguard, a firm, whole wall holding hordes of demons and the blight of blights back. That's such a bullshit retcon, and I make weird faces every time I try to figure out the mental gymnastics necessary for someone to come up with that idea.

4. It's also a massive retcon that Solas lies. (Sigh. Yes. It really is. No matter what you believe.) He canonically does not. They rewrote his character for DAI so that he doesn't lie because it weakened the character. He was originally written as much more similar to Blackwall. They decided it weakened Solas as a character and made sure he doesn't lie. He obfuscates, misleads, doesn't answer, and is really good at letting people make assumptions or even leading people to make assumptions. Because that is what a Trickster does! But in all of DAI and Trespasser, he does not lie except once. At the Winter Palace when you ask him where he got the experience of court. No. A 'lie of omission' is not a lie by the definition or philosophical understanding of what a lie is. You, as the player, not paying close attention to what he says doesn’t mean he lies either! He is not the 'god of lies'. That's Epler's hate shining through. Throughout 3 games, many dlcs, books, comics, short stories, the Dread Wolf is known as the Trickster. The god of rebellion and sometimes the god of betrayal. He is never once referred to as the god of lies in anything pre-veilguard. It's. Bullshit.

And Solas is an absolutely terrible liar. He stumbles all over himself trying to do it in the winter palace. It's hilarious tbh.

There were more retcons. But I need to go help with dinner.

Just, even if you liked Veilguard, don't use it as a defense in any sort of discussion of Lore. Perhaps listen to us Lore fiends, instead? Because they shat all over the Lore for Veilguard.

Real talk? It makes you look ignorant to anyone who actually has been paying attention to the Lore.

FWIW? I'm not in the best of moods right now. Please think twice, then a third time before responding/reblogging in disagreement. (Unless you're polite and actually have sources I haven't seen. I'm usually willing to have polite discussions or answer questions. I'm also willing to stand corrected if people actually can prove me wrong with sources attached. A 'nuhn unh, Solas lies cause I believe he does', won't get you far with me.) Nor will using anything from DAV to support an argument. I've relegated DAV to the graveyard of not-canon because of the complete disrespect of the Lore.

And I'll just laugh at you if you try to attack me. Internet randos filling my responses with shit doesn't phase me, bother me in the slightest, or make me upset. I find it incredibly, laugh out loud amusing because I've lived through so much more than that in my life.

[tootoomanycats]

Just Deserts

(Post Rumbling Levi x Reader slow burn)

Chapter One- It's Snowing

Pairing:

Levi x Reader Slow Burn (eventual smut)

Word Count: 2,119

If you prefer to read on AO3 its HERE Summary: Two years after the rumbling has ended, the citizens of Paradis Island are beginning to enter a new era of peace. With trade routes open around the world now, more and more foreigners are arriving on the island. In a small town built on the island's docks, Levi has opened a tea shop. Humanity's strongest hero, now turned shop owner, has become a stickler for his daily routines. He wakes up, serves tea to the townsfolk, tends to his small garden, and then walks back upstairs to sleep, only to do it all over again the next day. It's a simple life—one he's never had before. After landing on the island's shores, following a hasty exit from home, you find yourself starting from square one. Over the next few months, you make friends with the locals and begin to build a new life for yourself. One day leads to the next, and somehow, you find yourself holding the deed to an empty storefront. Its windows face directly across from the local tea shop and its brooding owner. From your first meeting, neither of you could stand the other. In the months that follow the opening of your shop, a mutual frustration develops regarding your feelings for each other. What began as annoyance slowly transforms into a friendship, and both of you become nervous that it could be something more. Can Levi overcome his past and allow someone in again? Can you heal from heartbreak to have a chance at something real and honest? Or will you both settle for the courtesies of friendship, forever denying the desire for something deeper?

Warnings:

Minor mentions of blood.

Descriptions of chronic pain.

Mentions of a cheating partner.

Author Notes:

Hello Everyone! Holy shit, two chapters in one week? Nobody tell my cardiologist how much caffeine I’ve had this week- I don’t want to get in trouble. This is a story I’ve been sitting on my hands for almost a year now. I had made the original idea for this fic HERE. I ended up outlining some of it, and then, due to stress, moving, and tons of health issues, I forgot about it until two a.m. last night- when my sleeping meds were fighting with the caffeine I did not drink.

(it might have been three yerba cans, might not; you don't have proof!)

This one’s gonna be a slow burn, and it's gonna be funny. I want to put a lot of humor into this one.

As always if you like what you have read please remember that fanfic writers live off of likes, comments and reblogs- we wont admit it but we all have praise kinks. Have you watered your smut provider today?

Two Years After The Rumbling

Glancing to the worn side table where a small square-faced alarm clock sat, a groan wracked his chest.

Two needle-like arms sat at 4:45 AM.

An hour before it was set to go off.

The smaller needle twitched back once before going forward two extra ticks; still need to fix that.

Four hours of fitful rest before being dragged back to the waking world. Last night's storm seemed hellbent on bringing powerful snow squalls. Accompanied by an atmospheric presser change that had his body vehemently protesting the whole night.

Freezing days like this had every past wound, affliction, and defacement his body had sustained roaring, unable to be ignored, and only allowing short and broken stints of rest.

If you could even call it that.

A slow blink brought focus to the ceiling. The aged variegation and cracks had been memorized in the last hour. Levi was lying awake in bed, his mind trying to pull what little motivation it could to sit up.

A groan filled his chest before he even started to move. Turning slowly to the right side, his right leg bent against the mattress. He then pushed his left hand down into the firm padding, using the leverage to sit up in bed.

Every movement was carefully debated, anything to avoid more discomfort than was already felt. Just sitting upright used more energy than he wanted to acknowledge.

Pulsing heat wound like barbed wire in his left shin, wrapping up the limb and pushing its pinpricked needles under the nerves of the patella. The joint inflammation, no doubt, had also caused swelling.

Shuddering a breath, Levi brought his right hand into view. There were rounded nodes where the index and middle fingers should be, both tingling and numb from the bout-filled night.

Minutes passed before trying to stand, only to feel a sharp sensation shoot up his left leg. With a grunt, he stumbled back onto the bed and begrudgingly glared at the walking cane leaning against the wall.

Another sigh.

The storm had passed over at some point, leaving a gray-skied morning in its wake. Snow blanketed everywhere that could be seen out of the window. It was going to be interesting going down the stairs of his apartment today. The steps already were becoming slick from moss, and now this added to the issue.

A shower, a very hot shower, would hopefully help this pain in the ass morning get off to a better start.

With a cane hooked over his forearm, Levi locked his apartment door before turning to face the narrow flight of stairs that stood between him and his goal.

With a grimace and half-shuffled step from the platform, his knee ached in protest as it bent to then hop down to the first step of many, only for his foot to slip on ice that had been hidden under snow.

The grip on the banister's railing was the only thing that kept him from sliding down the rest of the way. His thumb reached around to touch his ring and pinkie finger with its hold.

The opposite hand pressed down on the metal head of his cane, putting leverage onto the next step below before fixing his stance and trying to do better with the next hop. The same problem repeated, and his rear end landed harshly onto the freezing wood.

He refused to move out of pure spite at first. But with his body heat melting the snow and turning it into a puddle, the wet spot growing on his backside was not something he wanted to explain.

Glaringly, his eye scanned the street below, even glancing into his neighbors’ windows to make sure no one would see as he began scooting down each step, one at a time.

Seventeen steps later, and one very soaked bottom, saw Levi standing with a grumbling huff before turning the corner to the front of his tea shop.

“What a shit morning.” _______________________________________

“It’s snowing…”

How…

How did you get here?

Standing on a busy dock.

In a tattered wedding dress.

On an island, you had never set foot on before.

The sensation of something in your right hand made you look down at what it held. An obscenely large wad of money was neatly wrapped, held in place by a rubber band.

Oh, that’s right.

You were supposed to be getting married, right now.

Great Aunt Gertrude gave you the funds when you were zipped into the white gown this morning.

She had said something about, ugh, what was it she said?

“Just in case you change your mind.”

She had always been one to be blunt and to the point, which especially rang true for how useless she found your fiancé to be. To be fair, she wasn't wrong.

When she handed you the money, your best friend entered the dressing room to announce that your fiancée was missing. Everyone at the wedding party had been looking for him for over an hour.

It was understandable how worried you had been—what if he had been kidnapped or worse?

But nothing could have prepared you when you did find him, nothing.

It was by pure chance that you had heard the odd noises coming from the cleaning closet. When you opened the door, there was your fiancé; pants dropped down to his ankles as he pathetically thrust into another woman.

That moment felt as if it had lasted forever and simultaneously ended in a second. No one said anything, and all three of you were frozen in shock—them at being caught and you processing what you just saw.

The door had closed slowly with an ear-scratching creak. You may not remember much from that moment on, but you remember locking the door on them. No doubt forcing another person in the wedding party to find them together much later.

But you were already long gone by then.

And now you were here, where ever here was.

You watched as people walked by you, giving strange looks as you stood in the middle of the docks. It can't be blamed for the townsfolk gawking and looking away awkwardly at the sight of you. It was clear that whatever you had just been through was messy and held heft in its experience.

“Miss?”

Your body flinched at someone touching your arm gently. Turning, you look down to see a woman with a concerned expression. She stood barely at your chest, curly graying hair held back with a hand-knitted headband.

She spoke again. “Are you alright, love?”

You couldn't respond, mouth and throat refusing to make a noise as you stared at her blankly. The woman was of short and round stature, with small freckles covering her face.

And those green eyes, filled with concern. She took a moment to give you a once over before gently reaching, placing a hand at the small of your back, the other barely putting pressure on your upper arm as she started to walk and guide you.

“How about we get you out of the cold and warmed up hm?” You could not place her accent, but the tone was comforting. The kind someone uses when coaxing an injured animal.

As the woman guided across the icy cobblestoned road to a small Pub, your body was on autopilot. Once inside, the warped wooden floors creaked with each step. She pulled a chair for you to sit next to the roaring fireplace, telling you to stay there and warm up while she went and got some tea.

You didn't realize you had been cold until the warmth of the fire started to spread from your knee's up to your chest. Goosebumps cover your skin painfully, as shivers start small before growing into full body tremors, increasing to the point your teeth feel like they are going to chatter out of your jaw bones.

The heat started to bring you back to your body, painfully cold and sore, all weighing into the muscles. Exhaustion started to wallop you. Between the emotional shock, the running, and the freezing temperatures, it was no wonder you felt like you could have fallen asleep sitting up in that chair.

When your head bounced for a second time, fighting to stay awake, the woman from earlier returned to your side, holding a mug of hot tea for you.

“Poor thing, trembling like a leaf in the wind.”

When your hands first grasped the mug, you almost dropped it.

The warmth of the porcelain stinging against the sensitivity of your almost hypothermic skin. Wincing through the initial pain, you held the mug close to your chest as the woman draped the shawl she wore around your shoulders, its fibers already warmed from her body heat.

The sound of wood being scrapped against filled the empty PUB as she dragged a chair for herself, sitting in front of you. Again, you were at the mercy of your body as you could only stare at her. The fires light a stark contrast to the dark greyness that was outside. The window behind her showed snow had started falling in thick squalls.

No wonder you were freezing.

Looking from the window back to the woman, you found her pulling out a small pipe and filling it with a smoking mix from a leather pouch.

Both of you sat in silence, watching her pack and light the mixture before inhaling deeply and exhaling a stream of smoke into the air. She turned to look at you again, a sympathetic smile on the corner of her lips.

“Is there someone I can send word to for you? Family, friends?”

You looked into the mug as faces of wedding guests flashed before your mind's eye; clenching brows and lids shut, you gently shook your head and whispered, voice hoarse.

“No.”

A soft hum came from the woman’s chest as she nodded before looking back at the fire.

“If you would like, I can take you home. Where do you live?”

You fought the tremble that tried to start in your bottom lip; shaking your head again, you whispered back.

“I-I can’t go back there.”

Silence fell between the both of you again. Slowly, careful not to spill the mug’s contents as your fingers still tingled to life, you took a first sip. Your eyes closed as its warmth ran down from your throat.

Realization of how thirsty you were pushed to the front as you began taking larger swallows. Once its contents were empty, it was placed on the small table next to you. Body curling on itself as you scooted closer to the fire’s glow. Try as you might, but it was hard to think of or feel anything.

“Well, if you don’t have a place to stay, you shouldn't go out in this weather. I’ll make up one of the rooms for ya.” Before you had the chance to protest, she shook her head with a warm smile as she tapped her pipe to ash it into the fireplace. “No fuss now. I’m the owner of the INN, and my husband Frank is the owner of the PUB. We take pride in looking after folks, especially those needing it.”

When you had tried to offer money to pay for her kindness, she scoffed and began filling a large copper tub with hot water, refusing to even look at the cash in your outstretched hand.

“Now. I’ll bring you some clean clothes and some food. You get some rest; no one will bother you until it’s time for breakfast. But just in case you don’t want to be alone, I’ll be just downstairs.”

“Thank you, misses…?

“Meyer, Martha Meyer. And there’s never a need to thank me.”

A quick glance into the mirror of the bathroom had you sighing.

Eyes raccooned from tears streaking your makeup. Your hands were covered in dirt, wrists and elbows scratched up after falling in the garden when you ran out the back of the church. The lower half of your dress was dotted with small amounts of blood from your calves, lace shredded, all from the thorns of the rose bushes you sprinted through to escape faster.

When you finally managed to get into the bath, a hiss left your lips at the sting of hot water, cleaning the minor abrasions. It took what little energy you had left to wash and scrub the dirt out, dry your hair, and get into the pajamas left out for you.

The room was warming up from the small fireplace across from the twin-sized bed. After the last bite of soup, you lay down and cried yourself to sleep.

I am really going to enjoy writing about Levi's adjustments and personality around having physical impairments. The reason is that, if you don't know, my partner and I both suffer from chronic pain, and my partner has recently had to adjust to living in a wheelchair full-time. When you have these types of changes happen, suddenly, you begin to see the world is not built for folks with disabilities in mind. Levi wants to have his own tea shop and live in this particular town. As is his right, and he should be able to make that choice for himself. But the town's buildings were constructed so that apartments would be above where the business is. He had no choice but to deal with stairs every day, every season, even though it legitimately creates a safety hazard for him.

I think it's safe to say that if you really want to say that you love Levi's character—but the idea of him having disabilities, in the end, makes you uncomfortable and makes you not want to read anything that mentions them—you should really do a hard look at yourself and ask why that is. Anyway,

I love you all, and I hope you enjoy it and stay safe out there, my friends!

Tag list below ⬇️ If you would like to be added to Just Deserts tag list please comment to let me know.

Current Tag List:

@circulinho @angelofthorr

All cat art used on this blog are by the artist Valioart found on pintrest.

[protect-namine]

RE: vein's "death" again (previous thoughts have been posted here regarding the logistics of what actually happened and how it happened, and here regarding the thematic support for it). this post will be more about additional thoughs on lu guang's characterization.

so here's another interview translation that clarifies what happened. it doesn't really change much about anything I've said in previous posts, thankfully, but there is one additional thing from the interview I want to talk about.

my thoughts on the over-reliance on interviews aside, I wish yingdu actually emphasized more on the fact that lu guang's actions were a gamble. he wasn't sure his plan would work, but he took the risk anyway.

this is an important character moment for several reasons. one is that it's a milestone in lu guang's growth as a character. we were introduced to him in S1 as someone who will always stick to the original order of events and doesn't want to mess with the timeline, as shown in how he's strict with cheng xiaoshi during their dives. in his latest timeloop in yingdu, we see this in action from lu guang himself because he's always stressing about timeline deviations, and how he's timing key events down to the last minute. we also know that lu guang deeply dislikes having his plans messed up. so for him to take on a gamble is a huge change for him. it is a great risk, because he doesn't know if it would work, and moreover, this is his last loop. he believes he won't have any more chances to loop again after this. he is gambling for cheng xiaoshi's life here.

secondly, it would have been a great contrast to liu xiao, who is lu guang's narrative foil in depicting their control of the timelines. I've talked about this more in the ask post, but I wanted to point out how liu xiao was first introduced to us properly in yingdu as someone who can play gambling games, but would actually cheat to win (using his heartbeat ability). I'm going into speculation territory, but liu xiao strikes me as someone who only starts playing when he knows he can win; hence he's playing the "long game" with this show and we won't see him truly in action until S3.

idk, I just think it's a neat contrast. lu guang has already been playing the "long game" by timelooping over and over, and his solution is actually one that's something we would have expected more from cheng xiaoshi, who is the one who makes clever plans by thinking outside the box: take a gamble. take a risk. and hope it will pay off.

also, side note: looks like cheng xiaoshi having yellow eyes was also an animation error. man.

side note part two: there isn't actually anything in the interview that surprised me other than the animation errors and that there are no parallel timelines, but I am kinda disappointed that some information were revealed this way instead of us finding out in the show itself (either in yingdu or in the future in S3). for example, that bahati is indeed a school related to abilities, or that liu xiao knows and probably has taken away other people's abilities.

edit: posted this too soon lol, but there's more additional thoughts on gambling imagery in the reblog.

[sideblog-usernametaken]

See, this is one of my issues with Trigun Stampede (Disclaimer up front: Trigun Stampede isn't necessarily a bad anime, I just don't think it's a good adaptation or reimagining of Trigun).

As you go through the original anime and manga it becomes increasingly clear that Vash's pacifism is an active choice he is making. There are points where he does legitimately take into consideration the option of taking another person's life, because he can do it and it would immediately solve the problem. Yet he still comes to the conclusion not to.

These two versions of Vash constantly have their ideologies genuinely challenged both by the world they live in and by themselves. They present themselves to the world in whatever way that helps the most, be it by acting silly to put others at ease or acting bloodthirsty to make people evacuate. It's all so calculated and you can see how much it wears on him, especially when it doesn't work. Whenever the mask slips it's usually because he's exhausted his other options. That's where some of his anger comes from, the fact that doing things his way doesn't always work out but he hasn't found a better alternative. So you're never really judging other characters for being afraid that he's going to snap and what that would entail. What happens when someone who's been holding back this whole time decides it isn't worth it anymore?

You don't get that at all in Stampede. Everything Vash does looks and feels sincere, there's no performance to put people at ease because his regular personality already puts people at ease. Here it seems less like Vash is choosing not to kill people and more like he can't. Like the possibility of even thinking about killing someone himself is just permanently shut down. Sure we see him mad sometimes, but never to the point where he almost actually murders someone with his own two hands. He never feels threatening despite the story trying to tell you he's strong.

Sure, this Vash will hide stuff like his sadness and guilt, but there's no real anger. You never wonder if this is the thing that'll make him call it quits. He's arrived at the same conclusion as the original Vash without doing any of the emotional, philosophical, or logical work needed to get there.

It's just a lot more meaningful and compelling to have a pacifist who is making an active choice than one who doesn't consider any alternatives.

(Also I can give specific examples but I don't really want to get into spoilery territory on this reblog)

See what bugs me about the babygirl-ification of Vash is because the whole reason he was cool as a character to me was because he acted silly and rakeish and was such a pacifist to the point of being ridiculous-- but he also was capable of great violence. Of anger. The fascade would slip at times and show the lonely, sad man beneath. But it also showed the rage. The power. As capable of destruction as Knives himself.

He isn't a "uwu baby". He is a weapon of mass destruction who chooses love. Who chooses peace.

[cheshireliam]

"My Ideal Life of A Doting Love" Story Event: Chapter 2

Azel Radwan

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

With his hand against the wall, trapping me in place, Azel's brows were in a deep frown.

Azel: It's just—…

Azel: This kind of thing— right?

Emma: … I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that.

Azel: That's why…

Azel: —… it was in the book.

(Even though we're this close, I still can't hear him.)

He was definitely mumbling about something, but his voice was so soft it was nearly impossible to hear what he was saying.

Azel: Basically, there's nothing you need to worry about.

Emma: Saying that while your face is so red only makes me mor— mmph!

Before I could finish, he resorted to the drastic method of physically silencing me with his lips.

It was apparent that Azel had no intention of backing down until I gave up on pursuing the subject. Each time I tried to speak, his kiss would grow more aggressive.

(This is so unfair��)

His tongue intertwined with mine, gradually increasing the pleasure in my body. My heart was racing, and I was losing strength to keep upright.

I was about to go limp, but Azel caught me just in time, wrapping an arm around my waist to support me.

Emma: … You went too far.

Azel: It's your fault.

(Not an ounce of guilt in him.)

I shot him a piercing glare to express my embarrassment, but he simply turned away.

Azel: Fine, fine. It's my fault.

Azel: Umm… well…

Azel: … Want to go for a stroll?

Emma: A… a stroll?

…

In what seemed to be an attempt at making up for his actions, Azel led me out of the temple to an oasis deep in the desert.

(I never knew such a place existed nearby.)

Since few people would go near the sacred grounds of the primordial temple, there were no signs of human activity.

If Azel was the only one who knew of this place, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it "God's Garden".

Emma: This lake is beautiful… it feels good to be here.

As I crouched down and scooped the clear water with my hands, Azel placed a hand on my head with his usual grumpy face.

Azel: Not there.

Gripping my head lightly, he turned it to face a different direction.

Further back, beyond the oasis, near the water's edge— the scenery was absolutely breathtaking.

Emma: No way… is that a flower field!?

Flowers of vibrant colours were in bloom around the lakeside, bringing life to the dry desert sand.

I hurried over and looked at the flowers from up close.

(These are… "Al Flowers".)

The flowers, named after Azel, the Living God, were a special variety genetically modified to bloom even in the desert.

Emma: I never thought they'd grow naturally.

Azel: … They rarely do, so don't tell anyone.

Azel caught up to me and awkwardly averted his gaze.

Azel: This place might be ruined if people found out about its existence.

Emma: I'll keep it a secret.

(… What's this uneasy feeling I'm getting?)

I was curious to know, but I couldn't resist the temptation from the flower field and crouched down to gently touch a flower petal.

Azel: Do you like flowers that much?

Emma: I do. They're soothing to look at.

Azel: … I see.

Azel: I don't care much for flowers, but if you like them, you can come see them again.

Emma: Please come with me when I do.

Azel: …

Emma: Thank you.

Azel: I didn't say anything.

Emma: Your answer is written on your face.

Emma: Eeek…! What the—!?

Although he was firmly pinching my cheek, Azel didn't look entirely displeased.

Azel: I'm charging you an escort fee.

Emma: Shouldn't it be called a date fee?

Azel: … This isn't a date.

Emma: It is to me.

Azel: No, it's not. There's no way I'd do something so frivolous.

Emma: Azel… did you know that flower field dates are a thing?

Azel: …

Emma: That means it's too late now!

I stood up and clung to Azel's arm, with him looking like he was about to flee at any moment.

Emma: Next time, let's bring a tent and lunchboxes so we can have a picnic.

Azel: … Do as you please.

Despite the long and deep sigh he let out, Azel's had a tender look in his eyes.

…

That night,—

(I knew it. He's reading a book again.)

I secretly watched Azel from the bed as he sat by the window, unaware of my staring.

Tonight, I wasn't awake by chance. I was only pretending to be asleep, waiting for the right moment.

(He managed to dodge my questions during the day, but this time…)

Emma: AZEL!

Azel: WHAT!?

I raised my voice on purpose, causing Azel to turn toward in me in shock, nearly jumping out of his skin.

Emma: I heard a noise coming from outside…

Azel: … Huh?

The kind-hearted god didn't doubt my words. He immediately walked to the door to check on the "noise".

(I feel guilt… I'm sorry for deceiving you.)

Making a promise in my mind to prepare a luxurious meal for him tomorrow as an apology, I slipped out of bed and reached for the book "containing national secrets" Azel had left on the floor.

Azel: It was just your imagination. There's nothing outsid—

Azel: …

Emma: …

Azel: … You tricked me.

Emma: I'm so sorry. But…

Emma: … I love you.

[jonathankai]

Each time I check my activity and see a bunch of likes and hardly any reblogs, I feel so baffled. What prevents you people from reglogging stuff? It's not like your tumblr blog is your portfolio which you're going to show to your potential employer, and if he will see a post he doesn't approve, he's not going to hire you. And I hope that none of you has someone breathing down your neck, peeking behind your shoulder at what's happening on your screen.

Your blog is your maximum fun personal space, so if you enjoy the post you see, why not reblog it? It doesn't have to happen each and every time. but just consider doing it more often? Please? Pretty pleasse with a cherry on top?

"Oh, but I have 0 followers, so reblog is pointless". No! It's never pointless! On tumblr reblogging is a gesture of generosity and appreciation. Whether it's a textpost, art, shitpost, whatever, your reblog will always mean a lot to creator.

"Oh, but I want to keep my blog for X and not for Y". Create a sideblog. Create a secret sideblog and never share a link anywhere if you need.

"Oh, but reblogging is bad". Honey, it's not REPOSTING, it's REBLOGGING. You don't steal content, you use reblog button, original creator is linked properly, all is good.

"Oh, but I use likes to mark posts that I've already seen" (I'm not making this up, btw, I've actually seen someone saying it) Oookay? Why though? Listen, you can like as much as you want, but still, please, consider reblogging more often.

"Oh, but I'm showing my support by liking every post in my fandom" (actually seen this one too) Ooookay-2? It's a good intention, but you will be a mightier supporter and a cooler cat if you reblog stuff, just so you know. You don't have to regblog every post, but consider. doing it. more. often.

"Oh, but--" But what? Did I miss something? Seriously, come share your resaon, start a quarrel in the comments, feel bold and reblog this post, do whatever.

When it's only likes, this site feels so silent, it feels like talking to a wall.

I'm tagging this post with my current fandoms, because the situation is disastrous here, I'm sick and tired of seeing great art getting less love and attention than it deserves. But also with my old fandoms and maybe other tags, because from what I've seen, tumblr is going through some shitty stage all over.

[genderqueerdykes]

Re: aroace tagging discourse

Speaking as an aroallo person, my (albeit limited) exposure to this discourse has been less "never tag reblogs with #aroace EVER!!!" and more "Every time I try to go through the aro (and even aroallo, for some reason) tag, a vast majority of the posts I see are more about aceness than aroness, and I'm tired of not being able to find posts that are relevant to my experiences."

Like, I don't care if an aroace person tags an original post or reblog with both tags, I'm just frustrated that I can't even find community with other aroallo people because the majority of aro people are also ace. Even the tags for aroallo people specifically is somehow full posts that are about asexuality and are therefore not something I can relate to. The aroace and alloace communities are huge, and that's great! I'm happy for them! But, just once, I would like to find a community of people who are like me without feeling excluded for being one of the only people who is aro but not ace (not that aces don't accept aroallo people, they do, but it's obviously hard to be in a space where most people don't want to discuss sexual or horny topics while being someone who ONLY experiences sexual attraction.) We're the fringe group of an already fringe group, and it's sad. There's not much out there that's designed with us specifically in mind. :(

hello there! thanks for taking the time to send an ask

unfortunately, i'm still gonna have to ask people to correct this behavior because it IS hurting other people for the sake of being self-centered and petty. i'm sorry if this sounds harsh, but the "aromantic" and "asexual" tags are for all asexuals and aromantics. as you stated, if you want stuff for just aroallo people, there are tags for that. i know there's not much content, but that doesn't mean that someone gets the right to make aroace people feel uncomfortable and like they can't even go into the two tags that their identity is comprised of.

if there's a lack of content in aroallo spaces, that is your sign to fill in that gap. making aroace people feel like shit for interacting with posts literally made for aromantic and asexual people is not the way to go to get more alloaro content and people to interact with. think about the inverse: would an aroace person getting mad at alloaro people and saying that it's wrong to reblog a post that's just tagged "aromantic"? what if the OP isn't alloaro? would that give them an excuse to harass alloaros?

unfortunately, friend, the behavior still sucks ass and it's not okay. again, if you want content made specifically for alloaro people, that tag is quite literally right there. if you're not seeing what you want to see, that is your calling to do it yourself. i know it might suck to hear that, but this really doesn't give anyone an excuse to make aroace people feel like shit for using the aromantic and asexual tags. they're STILL aromantic. they're STILL ace. and they're not getting upset at you that they can't relate to you. this behavior is really unfair. try to reframe your line of thinking.

the aromantic community is not owned by alloaros. it's for ALL Aromantics.

the asexual community is not owned by alloaces. it's for ALL asexuals.

i hope this makes sense. try not to take other peoples' identities seriously. i know how much it sucks to feel left out, but this is your sign to build a stronger alloaro community. if you want to see it, you have to put yourself out there and do it. complaining about a lack of content will not make some more magically appear out of thin air. i'm sorry if this is harsh, but this behavior hurts people. it cuts them deep. and it's not fair to assert that the aromantic tag is for people who aren't ace, and that the asexual tag is for people who aren't aromantic. it makes no sense and it's excluding people for the sake of being self-centered. please try to reframe your thinking. as rude as this may sound, you are not the protagonist of the aromantic community. i am not, either. none of us are

as an aromantic person on the asexual spectrum, it doesn't bother me in the slightest when i come across alloaros in aromantic spaces. i can't relate to them with regards to their sexuality, but we're both aromantic, and there is plenty of ground there. i have no right in telling them that they don't belong, they have no right in telling me i don't belong. this is a specific issue with specific aromantic people being acephobic, and specific ace people being arophobic. it's not an attack on you, it's being directed toward someone else, and it's not cool to think that they should deserve to feel isolated from their own community just because you don't relate. you can't relate to everyone in your community. diversity is key. we need general aromantic spaces to stay diverse. we need general asexual spaces to stay diverse.

[muchtodoonterror]

#i don’t think people understand just how fucking horrible his situation was #he was a marine. he was on that ship for the sole purpose of PROTECTING THE CREW #he watched his fellow sergeant and captain die in front of him #his friend and fellow marine was rendered comatose under his watch #his entire reason for being on that ship was to prevent things like this from happening #like. can you even imagine the guilt #not to mention the entire setting #they were stuck in uninhabitable conditions being hunted by an incomprehensible beast #if the beast didn’t kill them then the cold or the scurvy or the lead poisoning would #so of course he went with hickey#of course he did the one thing that gave him some amount of control in an uncontrollable situation #he clung onto the situation that gave him the ability to do his job again. to command and protect. #he wasn’t in control aboard terror. he had failed over and over on that ship. #hickey’s mutiny was an opportunity to be successful again #to be in control again#he would’ve died for hickey simply because he needed someone to die for #and by the end when he realized just how far gone hickey was #and how little control he really had in that situation #he went back to crozier #he knew he was going to die at that point #so he went out marching. doing the one thing he’d been trying to do the entire time. protect #he never had bad intentions #he was dying and afraid and grieving and trying to find some sense of control in the worst possible situation #i WISH we got to have the great death scene they planned for him that got cut due to the budget #i feel like people would empathize with him more if there was more emphasis put on his redemption-through-death ending #although i don’t entirely think he needed ‘redemption’#he was never evil or anything. just misguided and scared #anyways sorry lol i love him sm #solomon tozer #reblog

officially approved tags by @fivetrench you get it!!! (bolding mine)

I particularly want to pull out "he would’ve died for hickey simply because he needed someone to die for" because I think it gets to the heart of so much. He had let so many people die on his watch that the opportunity to die for someone else probably seemed like only way to redeem his past failures.

I think my original post oversimplified but I stand by that painting Tozer as dumb or unintelligent is classist and takes away his agency and culpability for his choices. Many of those choices were objectively bad and excusing them as just being drawn in to Hickey's charisma, not being smart enough to clock what was happening, is the least interesting way to look at it to me. He saw what was happening and chose not just to follow but to abet. The thing that makes him such a fascinating (and, I would argue, sympathetic) character is why he makes those decisions. He draws conclusions that are heavily impacted by his anger and his grief, but he does draw them for himself. He was obviously very proud of being a Royal Marine and wouldn't have thrown that lightly aside for someone who, at the beginning, he didn't even respect.

I do not understand and am slightly offended by the fanon I come across depicting Solomon Tozer as dumb or stupid. He just isn't.

There are different kinds of intelligence. Just because he hasn't studied like a midshipmen or officer, that only makes him uneducated at worst. He clearly has interpersonal and emotional intelligence which are not to be sniffed at when you have that many men trapped together in harrowing circumstances.

As he is tending to Heather, he very specifically is describing one of the ongoing scientific experiments. That indicates not just that he's paying attention but that he finds it interesting and noteworthy. He could very easily have been talking about anything, about shipboard gossip or relating old adventures, but he's relating what he‘s picked up of the ship's science.

I'm sure one of the reasons he's depicted thusly is his poor choice in joining up with Hickey and subsequent doubling down on that choice. That is a topic for another essay but my point here is: grief empirically affects one's ability to process and make decisions. Tozer is arguably one of the most grief stricken men on board. They've all suffered losses, but being widowed (if we're taking the real Tozer's biography into account), with witnessing the deaths of Bryant and Sir John, with Heather, with Fairholme's party, with Morfin - he is not just grieving these losses but often feeling a direct responsibility for them. One of these alone is enough to impact his ability to make rational decisions, and as they pile up? And that's not even factoring in the effects of scurvy.

In conclusion, leave my boy alone; he's not dumb, he's just grief-stricken and doing his best.

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[quitlebee]

Playing Telephone

I was reminded on how I LOVED to play telephone with a can and a string back in the day

[skitskatdacat63]

Hello guys!!!!! Aforementioned project is finally finished 🫠 It was meant to be just a simple weekend project, and ended up being 30+ hours over the period of like four days. I don't think I'm an actual normal human anymore. This is the project that caused everyone in my life to question my mental and physical wellbeing and health. But I'm super excited to share this all of you!!!! Please enjoy!!!! Even if you don't like vettonso, I hope this is still interesting????

If you make any, please reblog this or tag me in it! I'm excited to see what other people, other than just me suffering alone in my bedroom, make out of this!!! <3

[beomiracles]

SQUEE I died reading this. I love love the first paragraph too, something about repeating the opening line and closing line will always do it for me !!

ahhh and beomgyu being attractive is like the whole point eheh, he's meant to be perceived as something esoteric almost, because that's how the reader comes to view him in time. but there also needs to be a sense of attractiveness for us to forgive him for all the shit he's about to pull us through lol

yeonjun as her senior just fits so well, I was debating on who to pick (even back in April last year) and he was the one that came to mind first.

AND YES THE LIPSTICK, it's like the star of the show for half of next tape-

anyway.

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.”

this paragraph is, too, one of my favourites !! it's almost the same as it was in the original version too because I could not part from it no matter how hard I tried.

and UGH don't even get me started on their first meeting. that shit is lethal territory good heavens. I like how she's cautious even though she ends up going with him due to her lack of better judgement.

squeee mixing past and present was like, the first thought I ever had for this fic, even without no plot last spring I knew that I wanted it to be switched around like this. I've tried to make the transitions as seamless as possible so you'll have to lay your verdict for tape 02, which is almost 10k...

anyway hehe thank you so so much for taking the time to not only read but send me such a detailed reblog sjjsjs it means the literal world to me !!

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 01

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings blood, character death, descriptions of violence/slight gore, implied sexual encounters, womanizer!beomgyu, making out, penetrative sex, public sex, alcohol consumption.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, realised after I hit post that I forgot to add a little note for myself on here. hmm... criminal conscience yes, I missed this series, a lot :3 super happy for it to be back, and better than ever !

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 01 ] — Stay Away From Choi Beomgyu — recording length; 5.9k

📼 ���  April 5th 2023

It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. It was dark too, awfully so. Yet you could clearly make out the image of him, his hunched over figure, his bloody hands moving without even the slightest tremble as they clenched and unclenched into fists. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you. 

The way you flinched, taking a quick step backward made him frown. “Dollface..” He tries, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the tension on his face easing up, if just for a moment. But you won’t hear it. Fuck, you could take the drugs, the lying and the cheating…Suppose you never were together in the end, not officially at least. — And you could take it. All of it. 

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. 

You thought things would be different with you. That you somehow stood out from the rest, that maybe… Maybe he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. But you should’ve known. You should’ve known to stay away from Choi Beomgyu. 

“You’re a monster.” 

It happens before you can even stop it, the way the words fall from your quivering lips. Your voice is strained with the effort of keeping down another sob, and your breath comes out shaky with each exhale. — He doesn’t look surprised, in fact his expression remains perfectly unreadable, just like it always did. That hurts the most you think. 

He takes a step forward, his shoes making a wet noise against the muddy ground. The rain makes his clothes cling to his body, his dark hair matted against his face, shielding his dark eyes from view until he pushes the strands back. — “C’mon dollface, we can work this out.” The once sweet nickname now made you feel sick. Butterflies no longer surged within your stomach, though, you’re not so sure that they ever had. 

You shake your head, adamant in your decision as you swallow. “Stay away from me.” Even though your voice is close to cracking it seems to break his trance, and Beomgyu looks confused for the first time. It would’ve been an almost satisfactory sight, had it not been for your current situation. But one quick glance toward the blood smeared all over him makes you want to vomit. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

And you hoped you never would. With all of your heart and being you wished to never see Choi Beomgyu ever again. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Hello?” 

Your words are followed by a thick silence and after almost twenty seconds you sigh. “Are you calling from downstairs again? You know the connection there is terrible.” Another minute passes, and you listen to the bruising noise of nothing for what feels like forever until Yeonjun’s voice finally breaks through on the device. 

“Hello? Oh, there you are!” He sounds almost surprised over the fact that the line seemed to actually be working. “Yes, yes I know I shouldn’t be calling from down here, but the elevator’s broken..” — He clears his throat before rapidly continuing. “Alright, I’ve got someone for you, can you make it down to room 31 in ten?” 

The groan passing your lips rings out into your office, bouncing off the walls and surely picking up on the phone despite the shitty connection. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve just barely made it here..” You grumble, yet you’re already rising from your chair, eager to be assigned a case from your senior. 

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. 

“Move him? To where, custody? How do you know we’ll have to do that?” Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away, which was unusual for him, and you pause with your hand on the door handle. — “I think it’s best you just come down here”, he then says, the finalisation in his tone evident. You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind suddenly swimming with questions you longed to ask. But you shrug them off, twisting the handle as you step outside. 

“Alright, I’ll be there.” 

The walk to the basement where the interrogations took place was an even longer one today. With no elevator you’re forced to stumble down four sets of stairs, silently vowing to yourself never to wear heels to work ever again. 

Fishing through your pockets, you grab onto the first thing you come across. A small tube of red lipstick, the engravings on its container made your heart skip a beat as you recognized its origin. Oh. You thought you’d gotten rid of that.. But the small cosmetic seemed to have made it during your move not long ago. How odd. 

The sound of your heels come to an abrupt halt as you stop to apply the red tint to your lips, using the camera on your far too old phone as a mirror. Despite its long history, the color remained just as bold as it had been when it was brand new. For some reason the revelation made your chest contract. — Screw it, you thought as you pushed the container back into the depths of your pocket. You would make sure to get rid of it on your way home. The past should remain the past, and for good reasons too. 

Interrogation room 31 is by the very end of the hall. The lights here had yet to be switched out and some of them flickered in a most uncanny way, setting the scene for something akin to a horror movie. However your worries come to ease when you spot your senior outside the door. Leaning against the wall, Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. 

“Took you long enough”, he huffs without taking his eyes off the clipboard. You raise a threatening fist his way but lower it again with a small grin, “whatever.” Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow your way but doesn’t make an attempt to comment as he instead sighs. — “23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. 

He flips the paper, eyes dropping as he scans the written documents. “He’s in for first degree murder and attempted arson.” Shit, that’s serious. — “Are there any witnesses?” You ask, interrupting him when your curiosity gets the better of you. Though it would likely be far too soon to determine that. Yeonjun shakes his head, “None have come forward, besides it’s still too early to say.” You nod, heat rising on your cheeks at the small misstep. 

“Then, how is he linked to the crime?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap toward you upon hearing your words, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Victim’s DNA on him”, he says as he hands you the file belonging to the victim. Your gaze immediately falls on the number of pictures already gathered from the scene. From the blood covered floorboards to the discarded knife, the bloody bathtub and the victim himself. 

“Park Baekhyun”, Yeonjun says as he points to the picture snapped of a man in his mid thirties. He was bruised from head to toe, his limp body awkwardly laid in the full tub. “34, male, cause of death was asphyxiation due to his head being held underwater for an extended period of time.” 

Once he’s reached the end of his small debrief, your jaw hangs slack. Whoever did this had no intentions of sparing the poor man. And judging by the way the scene looked, they didn’t seem to ever have.

“Will you be alright with this one?” Your senior’s question pulls your attention from the files in your hand, and you quickly nod. “Of course!” This was your first big case, and there was no way you would back down now, not when an opportunity had presented itself like this. 

Yeonjun leans over to unlock the door, his hand on the handle when he turns to you. “Remember I’m always-” — “On the other side of the glass, I know.” You finish with a small smile, and Yeonjun scoffs as he shakes his head. 

Interrogation rooms are small, their walls stripped bare and sterile. With no windows and not even a clock to tell the time, the space feels nearly suffocating. A metal table is placed by the center of the room, adorned with scratches and uneven sections from its years of mistreatment. Above it hangs a single fluorescent light, casting the room in an almost clinical glow. 

The man before you sits on one of the uncomfortable chairs, his head bowed and his cuffed hands resting on the table. His long dark hair shields his face from view, and you find your own gaze dropping to the files in your hands once more as you slide into the seat opposite him. 

You clear your throat, the quietness of the room only amplifying the sound of you swallowing again. “You’re being investigated on the grounds of first degree murder of Park Baekhyun and attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney. Keep in mind that anything you say here can be used against you in court.” 

Exhale. 

With a quick glance toward the thick glass window to your left, you allow yourself a momentary break. No matter how hard you squint, it was impossible to make out anything on the other side. But you knew that Yeonjun was watching, and it made everything ten times more surreal. — When you notice that the suspect has yet to speak, you turn your attention back to him. 

He remains in front of you, with his head bowed as his fingers absentmindedly tap against the cool metal table. Your breath catches in your throat when you survey the dark rings adorning almost each and every one of his fingers, they looked oddly familiar. But before you have time to ponder the matter further, he lifts his gaze. 

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. 

Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. 

His smirk only widens, exposing the sharp and shiny teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. A breathy laugh rumbles within his chest, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. He exhales with a short breath: 

“Dollface. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

The pet name makes an ice cold shiver crawl up your spine. You push down the insults waiting on your tongue, the months of resentment and the anger. Inhaling slowly, you remain perfectly still. He studies you close, dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to the side. It was as if he was trying to calculate your next move, you knew that he could. 

“Beomgyu.” The name tastes foul in your mouth, making you want to spit it out. You thought you’d left him behind, left him for good. For ten months you had tried to recover from him, from everything he’d put you through. All of it for nothing. Now he was closer than ever, within an arm's reach, if you so wished to touch him. 

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. 

You don’t have to look to know who it is. Yeonjun’s presence could be felt from miles away as he looms over you. “A word outside”, is all he says, before promptly turning on his heel and walking out again. — You don’t take your eyes off of Beomgyu when you rise to your feet, and the smirk on his face persists even when you exit the room. 

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Your senior’s voice echoes down the vacant hallway and you wince at the accusation of his tone. How did you tell him, how did you come clean about the fact that you had history with the man currently detained and cuffed on the other side of the door. — Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitantly chew on it as your eyes dart between the floor and the walls, anywhere but him. 

“Well I… Sort of knew him..” The words come out awkward, and you grimace at the way you presented the situation. Yeonjun’s frown only deepens, the crease on his forehead becoming even more prominent. “Knew?” He presses, and you suddenly feel as if you were the one being interrogated. This was not how your first case was supposed to go. 

“Well.. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” You press your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself into a more upright stance as you try your best at holding his gaze. — “How long?” Yeonjun counters, to which your heart sinks. How long has it been? You hardly kept track, for Choi Beomgyu was someone you longed to forget. “Ten months”, you finally say. 

Your senior sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he bites the inside of his cheek. He remains quiet for a good minute and you anxiously fiddle with the hem of your sleeves, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that no one was witnessing the most embarrassing conversation taking place. 

“I’ll take you off the case.” 

No. He can’t do that, can he? Well he technically could. Still, it was an option you refused to consider. “No.” You promptly say, rolling your shoulders back once as you prepare to face his rejection. You didn’t know why your first thought was to refuse, why a pang shot through your chest at the idea of having the case go to someone else, but it did. 

Selfish as you were, you thought you needed this case for your own gain. Whether it was to find some sort of closure for the way things ended, or perhaps even to satisfy your own curiosity. Either way, you knew that this case belonged to you. — “I’m confident that I can do this.” Your voice doesn’t waver, and your gaze is firm as you peer up at Yeonjun. 

Your senior sighs, carding his fingers through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. “It’s against policy and I shouldn’t-” — “Please, Yeonjun.” You take a step forward, hopeful eyes silently pleading with him. 

“I could be of great help, I’m certain of it, please just give me a chance.” — Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced, his dark brows furrowed as he glances between you and the shut door. Patiently you wait as he thinks to himself, your heart thrumming in your ears as you refuse the urge to beg him further. 

Finally, he huffs, shaking his head once, as if in disbelief of himself. “Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand you’re off, are we clear?” 

Eagerly you nod, “Of course. Thank you, sir!” You catch the way he rolls his eyes, coughing slightly as he dismisses you with the wave of his hands. “Don’t act formal with me now”, he tsks, shooting you a small sideway glance. He reaches for the handle once more, holding the door open for you as you enter the suffocating interrogation room a second time that day. 

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. 

You clear your throat, ready to begin the initial interview when he suddenly speaks. “You look different.” He presents the statement causally as he leans back in his chair, it makes a squeaking noise at the action. Your heart pounds against your ribcage and you swallow as you hold his gaze. — “People change”, you say, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, his dark and piercing gaze trailing along your figure. “But you act the same.” His lips stretch into a menacing smirk and you have to force the memories of those very lips against your own and all over your body, out of your head. Focus. You couldn’t afford to be taken off the case. 

“Last night”, you start off strong, your voice firm as you finally divert your attention from the files you’d been clinging onto, “You were present at Park Baekhyun’s property around 1am. What were you doing there?” 

The smirk has yet to fall from his face and Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow your way as he lets go of the rings he’d been fiddling with. “Cleanin’ up a mess”, the nonchalant tone he used masks any hint of unease he might be experiencing. 

“What kind of mess?” 

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. 

“Please refrain from straying off topic”, you say, your voice eerily calm. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but doesn’t attempt to argue as he regards you with a bored expression. “One of my employee’s messed up”, he shrugs, “Fairly new to the job so I can’t really hold him accountable.” — You watch as his eyes flicker over to the window on his right, his gaze narrowing on the thick glass. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds without tearing his attention from the window. And even though he couldn’t see Yeonjun, he without a doubt knew that he was there. For a moment, it felt almost as if he was addressing your senior and not you. 

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Choi Beomgyu to this day. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 28th 2022 

The floor thumps in rhythm to the loud bass that echoes from the DJ booth. Sweaty bodies are pressed against one another as people tear their way through the dancefloor. The fluorescent lights blind you as they flash from purple to blue to green and back to purple again. — Perched awkwardly on a high stool by the bar, you watch as the night unravels before you. 

Clubs had never been your forte. Especially not during the weekends where they seemed to host a home for the whole city as everyone drank their day to day problems away. Your eyes scan for Kayla, she was the one who’d brought you here in the first place. After listening to her persistent whining for almost an hour you had finally caved, but at what cost? 

As soon as your coats had been left, she’d darted for the dancefloor, not as much as a second thought about you as she searched for her next victim. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, it was in her nature honestly. 

You’ve already emptied two glasses, and now you’re tapping the cool rim against your lips as you aimlessly peer out over the crowd. The idea of another drink enticed you, but your wallet strongly disagreed with that idea, thus you were left far too sober for your own liking as you avoided any attempts at socialising. You weren’t here to make friends, much less fuck around. 

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

Your gaze clung to him as it trailed along his dark and long hair, perfectly framing his sharp features. Then to the half-hearted smirk he wore, to his dark clothes and the black rings around almost each and every one of his fingers. And then finally to his eyes, darker and all the more menacing than the rest of him, they seemed to glow under the neon lights. 

For some reason, he was looking at you too. Despite the two half-naked girls draped over him, their hands insistently clawing at every part of him they could access, undoubtedly whispering beyond filthy shit in his ears with sickeningly sweet giggles. — Why was he looking at you?

He wasn't alone, far from it. The small booth he occupied held, not only him and the two girls, but at least three other guys as well, all wearing the same brooding expressions. You should look away, pretend like you’d never seen him in the first place, but the longer you stared at him, and the longer he stared back, it became increasingly more difficult. 

His smirk widens when he brings his glass to his lips, and over the rim you catch the sly wink he sends you. Your heart stumbles over its next beat, your own glass stuttering against your chin as you grip it tighter. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on, or even subtly flirted with. But there was something undeniably different about this man. Despite your earlier complaints on your sobriety, you suddenly felt intoxicated in a way you never had before. 

And so you did the only reasonable thing left to do. You winked back. 

He chuckles, even though you’re unable to hear it, you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls. His ring clad hand slides along the thigh of one of the girls, who giggled as she leaned in to kiss his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, those same dark eyes still fixed on you.. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Kayla’s voice is sharp, and it snaps your attention from the stranger and over to your friend as she takes the seat next to yours. Slouched over the bar, she orders herself a glass of water which she begins gulping down. — “What?” You question as you watch her wipe her lips. 

“That guy, the one you were eyeing”, she points in the direction of the man you’d just been gawking at, “He’s no good.” She gives a firm nod, glass gripped tightly in her hand as she peers down at the liquid floating around. — “How’d you know?” You scoff as you, too, turn back to the bar. Perhaps she was jealous of you succeeding in finding someone when she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be a first. 

But Kayla only huffs, her nails tapping against the glass as she purses her lips. “Only uses women for his own personal gain and pleasure, you’ll get hurt.” 

“What if I only seek pleasure?” That was a lie, because you didn’t, far from it. You were nothing like Kayla, at least you liked to think you weren’t. —- “Then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, I meant what I said, he’s bad news.” 

“How do you know that?”

Her knowledge about this stranger intrigued you. Had she hooked up with him before and got jealous by the possibility of you doing the same? Had he rejected her? 

Kayla sighs, her expression taking on an almost melancholic form as she sets her glass down. “Do you remember Shay?” She suddenly asks and you frown, confused by the mention of her old friend. “Yeah? You haven’t mentioned her in a while, did something happen?” 

Your friend snorts, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she nods toward the man by the booth. “Yeah, he did. – One night she’s off with him, next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her fucking mind and unable to stand on her own goddamn legs.” A visible shiver runs down Kayla's spine as she recalls the events in her head. 

Turning back to the counter, she picks up her glass, “Besides, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.” With that, she downs the remaining water before pushing the now empty glass away. — “Better to try your luck on the dancefloor, hm?” She suggests as she attempts to pull you along. 

“I’m fine here.” You give her a small smile, watching as she nods before turning to disappear through the thick crowd. 

As much as you tried to keep your gaze from wandering, it somehow ended up by that godforsaken booth yet again. Except this time, the man seemed far too busy to spare your hopeless stares as much as a second glance. One of the girls had crawled onto his lap, shielding most of his face from view as she pressed her lips to his. 

His fingers squeezed around her hips before his hands traveled down the curve of her ass, barely covered by the ridiculously short skirt she wore. — They only broke apart for him to mutter something to one of the others present, their following laughter almost overpowering the loud music. 

With a small grimace you finally tear your gaze from the sight, slumping back against the bar with a tired sigh. This night seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps you could call a cab home, Kayla would probably want to stay at least another two hours, something that you weren’t quite feeling. 

You brace your hands on the countertop with the intention of heaving yourself from your chair and search for your friend when the bartender suddenly catches your attention. Wordlessly he places a drink in front of you, making your head jerk up as you give him a confused look. “I didn’t order–” 

“Booth 12”, he nodded to somewhere behind you but you hardly needed to turn around to know where this drink had come from. With your heart in your throat, you take the cool glass, eyeing the pinkish hue of the contents that swirled around the ice cubes. Why had he bought you this? Hesitantly you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as you let the liquid slip down your throat. 

It tasted sweet, and you quickly found yourself going back for more. But hadn’t he been busy just a few moments ago.. Perhaps you’d read him wrong. — Suppose you could finish this drink and then head home. But you can barely get as much as another sip in before the seat next to yours becomes occupied. 

Through the corner of your eye you can easily make out his long dark hair, the faint smirk on his lips as he clasps his hands on the counter in front of him. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence hanging over the two of you. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes ahead, part of you wondered if he’d even come here with the intention of talking to you at all. 

You take another sip of your drink, desperate for the liquor to take effect. The man shifts in his seat, and you feel as though you were on fire when his head turns in your direction. Even with no words he managed to make your heart beat in a frenzy as you clutched your glass tightly. 

His dark and piercing gaze is unforgiving as it roams your figure, undoubtedly lingering where it shouldn’t. It was like he knew no shame. You should’ve told him off, you should’ve gotten up and left. For some reason you find yourself staring at him with equally invading eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” 

It’s the first time he speaks, his head falling to the side as he studies you. “You new around town?” His voice is smooth, clean of any stuttering or awkwardness. A small part of you envied how easily he seemed to be carrying himself. — You shake your head, “No.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for your drink. The rings around his fingers make a clanking sound against the glass as he takes it and brings it to his lips. “Then what? Not your crowd?” He asks before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving you. 

“No, I suppose not..” You gingerly admit, not wanting to highlight the fact that you were completely out of your element. But judging by the way he looked at you, his silent demeanor practically eating you alive, he probably knew that already. — He places your glass back down, gently pushing it back your way as he wordlessly encourages you to drink more. You don’t know why you oblige. 

He takes the opportunity of you sipping on your drink to introduce himself. “Choi Beomgyu”, he says, the smirk on his lips widening as he does. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name. He was a stranger, not to mention one that Kayla had specifically warned you about not long ago. Still, this man intrigued you beyond limits.. 

Beomgyu, as his name was, suddenly leaned closer and you could almost smell the liquor on his breath. “Come on dollface, you must have a name?” The nickname he so casually dropped made your stomach flip. — You tell yourself that this was just a game of his. Taking Kayla’s words into consideration, not to mention the fact that he had girls draped over him minutes ago, this wasn’t the first time he chatted someone up. You would not make a fool of yourself and fall for such cheap tricks. 

He’s silent as he waits for you to answer, but when you merely avoid his gaze and sip on your drink, he chuckles. The laugh is pulled from deep within his chest and it sounds raspy when it rolls off his tongue. Beomgyu leans back, running a hand leisurely through his long hair. “Hard to charm I see.” 

You don’t answer, but you can’t help but watch as he rests his elbows against the bartop, his finger dragging just below his bottom lip as he regards you with intrigue. — “Not your type?” You retort, your response coming out somewhat short. It was hard to fathom any reasoning behind his strange interest in you. 

“Far from it”, Beomgyu hums, though his glimmering eyes betray the words coming out of his mouth. The lower half of his face pulls into a lopsided grin, “But I’m not opposed to trying new things.” 

Your first instinct was to scoff, to tell him to fuck off back to wherever he’d emerged from. It’s strange. You find yourself completely unable to. Instead you push your nearly finished drink toward him once more, and Beomgyu takes it as he brings it to his lips. — If he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?” 

“Tell me your name.” 

His breath is hot on your neck, coming in short pants as he slams his hips against yours. The alleway is dark and vacant, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. Shoved against the brick wall, you’re pliant in his grasp as Beomgyu’s hands roam your body. With your skirt pushed high above your hips, the metal of his rings feel cool against your thighs as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. 

Was this a good idea? — It didn’t matter. Your nails rake along his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. Beomgyu chuckles against the crock of your neck, his lips leaving sloppy kisses over your skin, pulling it between his teeth. 

This was so unlike anything you’d ever done before. Not that you were a prude, or anything of the sort. But something like this, in a place like this, where anyone could walk by and with a mere stranger no less.. Whatever. You figured he was just another promiscuous man with no other intentions than the last. You would use it to your advantage tonight, or at least so you thought. 

But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. 

Why did he want to know your name? Why did it matter if you were to never see one another after tonight? Still, his silent request is made clear when he presses your lips together in a feverish kiss. You gasp out at the feeling of his hard cock as it buries inside of your aching cunt, your thighs trembling as they remain wrapped around his waist. 

“Dollface”, he exhales into the kiss, his mouth warm and wet against yours. And when he pulls back for air, your dazed eyes meet his as you brace your hands on his chest. Licking your lips, you inhale slowly before finally giving out your name, your most vulnerable piece of information. 

He smirks, clearly thrilled by the admission. For a split second you wondered if you’d done the right thing. Perhaps it had all been one grave mistake. If it was, you weren’t given time to ponder it as he reconnets your lips, this time with a passion unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

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[divorceecheesecake]

:D the sequel

[the-way-astray]

alright everybody can we please stop tagging me/talking about me in the notes of pro keefe/sokeefe posts. i know strieefe has made it so that it's really funny to talk about how much i love him and how much i'm in denial when i say negative things about him under those posts (and that's all in good fun and not the problem), but we have to think about the fact that the ops are just trying to make a positive post and probably don't want a keefe hater in their notes /srs

[vimbry-moved]

"likes don't do anything" they do

"there's no algorithm" there is

"well nobody uses the for you tab" I do

"reblog all art and fics you see" there's no thought put into that. if this does work on people, then it's just pity engagement borne out of guilt rather than genuine interest, which is arguably worse than having none, because it's totally hollow.

[heister-shmeister]

holy shit hello saateco. firstly i want to say a huge thank you for reblogging this and having such a long response i love reading long responses and having talks like this. secondly i fucking love your artwork and when i saw it was you my jaw dropped. your art brings me so much joy

i wanna respond to a couple things in your reblog. i didnt intend to be as potentially ignorant sounding or insensitive in my original post as i was. its a pretty old post now i think and seeing my notifications blow up about it made me reread it and jesus christ i dont know if i agree much with it anymore. i guess i can thank you for the boost as well. i wanna say that i was not trying to say anything in the post as fact and the post was inspired by how i see the payday community talk about sokol as well as some of my opinions on him

im gonna admit the primary character trait being communism mark is entirely incorrect and i rescind it. communism does have smth to do with him though in some way, seeing as his mask is based off of the soviet navy flag. in fact it fascinates me how he references putin in his voice lines but also chose the soviet navy flag as the reference for his mask- but it probably doesnt go beyond “russian stereotype” and that makes me sad

another thing is my shock with his technological prowess comes from a character writing standpoint. this is all purely my opinion and how my weird brain processes character writing, but it simply eluded me why sokol built the bfd and has that engineering knowledge when many other characters were equally capable of creating the bfd, considering houston and wolfs engineering prowess is far more emphasized in the games. it just confuses me why sokol made the bfd and not the others and how nobody in the fandom brings it up

as for the comment on jacket. when it comes to the payday community a lot of people notice that logically jacket would not like sokol, even if he is completely neutral in the text of the game. in the game jacket is from, hotline miami, his best friend was killed in a nuclear bombing done by russia. in the hotline miami universe the cold war evolved into a full on war in which jacket fought against mainly russians. the core plot of the game revolves around jacket slaughtering the russian mafia in miami. that is why i mentioned it in the list, because people talk about their potential rivalry a lot. explaining this is not to imply that you didnt know i was just explaining things for example. i agree in not thinking payday 2 jacket actually hates sokol. i actually think theyre a little gay.

also this is not to say jacket is justified in his xenophobia in the hotline miami games just throwing that out there for anyone not directed at saateco just saying this in general. i think wanting to get revenge against the people that killed your best friend is reasonable BUT it is literally one of the points of hotline miami that the patriotism and hatred for russians was stupid.

idk how to close this out

thank you so much for the reblog im genuinely grateful

sokol is a fucking hilarious character

the purpose he serves as a character in payday 2’s story is so fucking funny his skillset is so god damn funny. but like. not even unrealistic

he has so many gimmicks

hes relevant for three seconds in the grand scheme of the payday story

hes.. russian. he is a professional hockey player. he- he can. build. shed-sized laser cutting drills

why can he do that who let him do that

he never mentions his engineering prowess in any of his voice lines (iirc)

he just. can do that

it gives someone with adhd taking their adderall for the first time and it kicking in right as theyre browsing the wikipedia article for nuclear fission and next thing they know theyre wanted by the fbi

its not like its unrealistic for people to have more than one interest but its just so funny how unrelated and irrelevant sokols engineering knowledge seems when put next to everything else about him. especially since theres already other characters who fill the role of awesome engineer dude already

houston isnt THE engineer but hes the mechanic and wolf literally has his own workshop

sokol made. the fucking bfd.

and his primary character trait isnt even that

its communism

his engineering smarts are like the last thing anyone remembers about his personality and it is the reason in lore why he is in the payday gang

sokols attributes in the order most often noticed by people who get into this game

russian

hockey

russian which means jacket wouldnt like him

burgers

prison nightmare voice lines

HE MADE THE FUCKING BFD..

THE BFD!!