#you are straight up so stupid

[justsomeguycore]

like it makes me physically ill that this whole mass of people genuinely believe that they’re “supplying housing” by buying properties and renting them to people. girl you’re not supplying housing you’re holding it for ransom

[bixels]

tarpit site.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

No time to play. You are being sent away.

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[adiradirim]

one of the funniest/saddest things about having a jewish post breach containment is you'll read tags that are super loudly excited about how much they just looooove judaism and the jews (tm) and you'll be like "oh?" and click on their blog to see what else they've been saying and reblogging and be like oh

[skitskatdacat63]

Seb comes to Fernando's bedside to cheer him up! (aka resolving my turmoil over there being no vettonso moments yesterday)(long gif!!!)

+ what if Fernando hadn't been out sick!

[bread-is-my-life]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

IT'S AN ANNIVERSARY OF THE "SOMETHING STUPID" ANIMATIC BY @seagiri OMG GUYS LET'S GOOOOOOO!!!!!

(this animatic literally was the reason why I got into tf2 so GO WATCH IT IT'S BEAUTIFUL I PROMISE!!!)

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Every time I see someone earnestly say that Carver hates Hawke, I have to exercise such restraint to not scream.

Every day I get closer to writing a deep dive about him because that's my guy. He's so interesting. He feels so much. He tries so hard when talking to the other companions and some of the dynamics he has with them are so good. He can be so fucking funny and sweet and awkward. He so badly wants to be wanted and appreciated and to protect everyone he loves.

Carver Hawke, they could never make me hate you.

[dukeofthomas]

"They were never really that close pre-death" "Dick was mean to Jason before warming up" etc etc are the worst Dick&Jason takes possible. Why would you even say that about them

[moeblob]

I love Chris so much you guys.

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[noirandchocolate]

The Yiga Clan isn’t a cult in my honest opinion.

They’re more like a crime syndicate.

If a crime syndicate was also an oppressed minority group subjected to a genocide in the distant past and continued marginalization in the present as they’re forced to lurk at the edges of and mostly outside society to eke out a living through theft and violence while the “good” members of the same minority who accepted the harsh terms of cultural genocide at the hands of the very people they served get to stand next to every other race that reviles them and call them “evil” and “traitors” because they seek justice against the divine-right monarchy that betrayed them first and have forsworn the goddess who never once deigned to help them.

They're not monsters to be mowed down, they're people. People who engage in genuine and understandable strife against authority figures who uphold systems of inequality.

...

Anyway, that's what I think.

(Edit: For even more of me rambling, see the notes.)

[vanyafresita]

me, after catching up w malevolent: ok lets sketch my designs for some characters to have a reference before drawing any serious fanart

my silly ass: draws that one meme

[kaiserouo]

[thewingedwolf]

once again i am reminded why i prefer bb tumblr even if it’s less active and it’s bc people scream for “old school bb” like bb10 where michelle called libra a skank who should get her kids taken away from her but when leah is told by chelsie tucker likes her, attempts to flirt & hits a brick wall, then gets minorly petty with rubina over it (who was EQUALLY petty about leah) people are like “she’s a jealous hag you have to be a hater to like her” YEAH I AM A FUCKING HATER AND YOU ARE TOO SO WHATS HAPPENING HERE EXACTLY

[tswwwit]

Though I haven't gone into much detail about Stan and Ford in the Familiar AU, I've thought of something funny.

The Stans went on Unspecified Adventures together when they were younger men. Partners, in fact! And while I'm likely never going to get into the details of their eventual falling out - there's potential in those adventures!

Who knows. Maybe monsterfucking kinda runs in the Pines family, but not the one you'd think.

Stan chatting up a Siren, before Ford has to yank his brother back by the shirt. Wondering where the hell Stan went, only to find him partying with some nymphs in a lake and coming THIS close to being drowned. Hell, maybe when Stan describes one of his exes as a 'shrill harpy', he's being literal about it.

A twenty-something on the prowl and on the adventuring path is gonna run into SO many tempting creatures - and the number of times Ford saved Stan's dumb ass from human-ish ladies would go into the DOZENS.

[pinnithin]

yknow i didn't necessarily start my wyll origin run with the intent of romancing astarion in mind but the more i play the more i find their similarities amusing when it comes to like, the surface level personality they present to strangers in act 1.

wyll is a compulsive flirt. you see it in dialogue with shadowheart and lae'zel - he just tosses out a couple lines that clearly aren't supposed to go anywhere (asking lae'zel if she believes in love at first sight, blatantly reusing the same flirtation attempts with shadowheart) and i see this as part of his Blade of Frontiers persona. obviously a traveling vigilante would have no time for romance or relationships, but he's socially aware enough to have learned that people respond well to a certain level of rogueish charm. especially if his reputation precedes him. he can safely and positively engage in surface level flirtations with the people he interacts with because the person doing the flirting isn't real - at least not to him. he often says the Blade is his best self, but to him its an ideal he strives to achieve, not the person he really is. and i imagine that includes the ability to give discouraged people positive attention in a nonthreatening way. its safe. its superficial. he doesn't have to follow through.

this is overshadowed somewhat by astarion's tendency to flirt with anything that has a pulse, but the perspective they both have on it is pretty similar. theyre both coming from a place of not actually being interested in the recipient of their attention - whether that be through astarion's ulterior motives or wyll's lack of capacity for a relationship - but they both still put on this front because it's habitual. it's worked for them and it's gotten them through the varying degrees of social contracts they find themselves in. so they wind up trading lines easily because they've studied from the same script.

anyway what im getting at is bumping these two personalities against each other can definitely result in wyll and astarion committing to the bit so hard they accidentally wind up in a relationship. like, you're safe, you know the rules, you're speaking in a language i'm familiar with but we both understand that neither of us expect anything back on an emotional level. wait when did we start confiding our deepest secrets with one another. what do you mean you trust me.