#you cannot have the latter without the former

[shanksbaby]

They are jealous - Borsalino, Kuzan

extabilished relationship

he saw you talking to one of your coworkers, he had never seen him, so he must have been a new recruit. Well, he didn't like him at all anyway, especially the way he was looking at you and standing next to you.

ugh, who does he think he is? He had thought as he stared fixedly at the scene

and the worst thing was that you were too immersed in talking to him than to notice the admiral's presence behind you, with a not at all pleased expression. In fact he seemed to get more annoyed every minute at seeing you together

the other marines, however, have seen it, and they continually look between Kizaru and you and the other recruit, their faces somewhere between nervous and curious, being able only to sense their admiral's emotions.

Borsalino at some point can no longer stand to see you like thisand therefore approaches the two of you. His expression becomes relaxed again as does his voice, although you know better and sense a slight annoyance behind his apparent relaxation.

Sorry for the interruption, but i need miss Y\N.

as mentioned above, sensing the annoyance behind his seemingly calm smile, you follow him without a word, yet you cannot hide an amusement at seeing him annoyed at something so silly

he takes you into his office, locks the porete to prevent you from being disturbed, approaches you with a plush stride, and when he drops with his face you tweak gently his nose

My my someone is jealous

has no problem admitting that he is, in fact he doesn't seem embarrassed at all

he tells you exactly what bothered him: that recruit and how he was around you, how he looked at you. You reiterated to him that you were simply guiding him to the beginnings of his residency in the Navy Headquarters.

and that it was the first time you had met him

his full lips capture you in a passionate kiss, apologizing for acting like an idiot, and make a big deal than it was-

that day you both decided to visit another town (more specifically you were tired of being on that island full of pirates, and you wanted to visit somewhere, Kuzan simply followed you even though he preferred to stay over). The former admiral as was often the case had ignored his captain's orders and left with you.

obviously traveled with Kuzan's bike in the middle of the ocean.

you spent a whole day touring the town you came to, with mutterings from the tenth captain of Blackbeard's crew about how the bed would have been better (plus some definitely suggestive comments about what might have happened on the bed)

But it was all in all a day off from that island for both of us. You then went to a local bar, deciding to have a drink and some food. You decided home to eat and then Kuzan went to order and pay.

in the meantime a man of about thirty years old approached you and started flirting with you, thinking you were single, he even offered you a drink. Obviously you weren't interested, and while you were about to refuse him your boyfriend arrives, he hugs you and says in a particularly annoyed voice

Sorry buddy, but the lady here is taken

immediately the man leaves, probably recognizing Kuzan as a former navy admiral. The latter moves away from you and sits next to you, not saying anything, rather looking in front. You look at him amused, making him turn his face towards you, you tweak gently his nose

My my someone is jealous

he immediately denies it, saying that he did it for you, because you seemed annoyed by his advances, which makes you smile even more. After all he looks so cute while he denies his jealousy

he seems annoyed by your smiling and teasing him for being jealous (and he is not -agreeing to him). So, he kisses you on the lips, he says to shut you up but you know it's for something else, his hands search for your waist and then squeeze it to himself

[freepassbound]

First of all, I want to thank you for the april asks idea. This is so lovely, and though I am late to the party, I'll still try to participate every day. The convenient list of ask games is also very thoughtful :) I'll be reblog these, and as a personal rule, I pose (at least) one question of every list to the person I've reblogged from. Therefore, would you mind answering the following:

How long does it take you to fall in love with somebody?Is the sensation of ‘falling in love’ or ‘being in love’ better?

Thank you and have a nice day 🧡

Oh! You're quite welcome! 😊

Though boy... stepping right in with the big questions! 😮‍💨

Truthfully, I have little confidence that I am in touch with my emotions well enough to actually know the answer to either of them. But I'll give it a go.

How long does it take you to fall in love with somebody?

I don't think I'm really aware of it as it's happening? The only answer I can think of is to glibly paraphrase Hemingway on bankruptcy: slowly, then all at once. The 'slowly' part is what I'm not aware of, and it's happening while I'm getting to know them, while we're talking, while we're exchanging memes and whatever... and then I wake up one day and realize I love this person.

I think certainly it is dependent on some level of interaction with another person - I might feel fondly about some people I've never directly interacted with, but I don't think I could love them. And I think it's also dependent on the amount and the quality of the interaction.

Is the sensation of ‘falling in love’ or ‘being in love’ better?

I don't believe they can be quantified in opposition to each other. They're two very different feelings, and they're both absolutely wonderful.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Scotty Doesn't Know

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. The former was easy.  The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Summers!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word Count: 2.2K

Author’s Note: So, your boy has seen Deadpool and Wolverine too many times and is currently experiencing Hugh Jackman brain rot. Had to write something after listening to "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra and then it just kinda just took on a life of it's own. Let me know if you guys want more Logan fics because I'm so obsessed with this man rn.

“Just doing maintenance, or are you going for a ride?”

Logan looks up from where he was working on his bike. He damn near almost bites through the cigar in his mouth when he spots you leaning against the garage door. He shouldn’t be surprised; despite his best efforts, Logan always seems to be accompanied by your presence -- both at the mansion and in the field. It’s not that he wants to ignore your existence. Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. Logan wanted to scoff at Scott’s warning: opposed to public belief, he’s not actually an animal. 

The former was easy -- Jean made it abundantly clear that she’s in love with Scott. The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan -- especially when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re just as fascinated with him as he is with you. 

“Just working.”

You nod at his answer as he returns his attention to his bike, putting out his cigar in the process. His bluntness is unsurprising, but no matter how often Logan tries to blow you off, you still feel the harsh sting of disappointment. Logan Howlett is an enigma to you. A problem you just can’t seem to find the solution to. You’ve always gotten along with Logan and work well enough together that Charles often pairs the two of you up on missions. He protects you with his life in the field. He’s the first to offer you a helping hand when he notices you struggling. He consistently provides support after every mission that goes awry. It would be easy to consider him a friend; however, Logan has always kept you at a distance. He brushes you off whenever you ask if he wants to do something simple like share a drink or watch a movie. 

At first, you thought it was because he was afraid of you -- of your mutation. Just like your older brothers, you have the ability to manipulate energy. And just like your older brothers, you have difficulty controlling your powers without the help of external factors -- Alex had the suit, Scott has his glasses, and you have two siphons that you wear on either wrist. Without them, energy builds up in your body until it cannot be contained and then escapes through the only place it knows how -- your hands. The siphons help regulate the amount of energy coursing through your body, and most importantly, they give you the power to choose when and how to disperse it. 

During one of your missions, one of your siphons was destroyed. You and Logan were fighting for your lives against an anti-mutant militia after being separated from the rest of the X-men. The two of you were outnumbered and on your own since communication with the team had been cut off. Logan was willing to fight to the death against these soldiers, and you were prepared to back him up until the end. During the fight, Logan got pinned down by multiple assailants, and you watched helplessly as they attempted to decapitate your partner. You felt the familiar sensation of energy building throughout your body as you struggled against your own group of attackers. All hope seemed lost until one of the soldiers nailed you in the back of the head -- hard. The hit caused you to fall forward, and you braced yourself, using your hands to catch your falling body. As your hands connected with the ground, an energy field shot out of your hands. You prepared yourself for another blow, but it never comes. The chaos around you suddenly seemed to turn into an eerie silence. Finally, you look up and let out a shaky breath as you take in the carnage caused by your energy field. Everything around you was completely eviscerated -- everything except Logan.

Logan let out a low, pained groan, and you watched in horror as his body heals himself from the wounds you inflicted. You looked down at your hands in shock. It’s been ages since your powers were this volatile. Since you felt this out of control. At this moment, you noticed the state of your left siphon -- wholly shattered. No wonder you weren’t able to control your powers. 

The sound of your name eventually pulled your attention away from your hands. Looking up, you saw Logan cautiously approaching you. His concerned eyes scan your body for any injuries and once he seemed certain that you’re okay, he met your gaze.

“We need to get out of here.”

It wasn’t until the you were back on the jet with the rest of the team, that Logan approached you about what happened in the field. You were sitting away from the others at the back of the jet, studying your broken siphon. Suddenly, a pair of large hands cover yours, obscuring your siphon entirely. You look up and see Logan knelt in front of you. 

“You good?”

He didn’t move his hands from yours as he spoke and you relished in the contact. A dry laugh escaped your lips as you considered his question.

“I couldn’t control myself out there, Logan. Without my siphons, I’m just as dangerous as the enemy out there.”

Logan’s face softened at your words. He understands why you’re so panic-stricken right now -- knowing all too well how it feels to lose control.

“Hey. Look at me, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You scoffed at his words. Of course he’s fine. He’s damn near indestructible, but you saw the aftermath of your outburst. Saw the devastation caused by your hands. Those same hands that Logan is now tightening his grip around -- grounding you back in reality.

“Seriously. You might think you were a liability out there, but you saved my life.”

You met his eyes again and are taken aback by the sincerity you found in them. 

“I could have killed you.” 

And there it is -- what’s actually eating you up inside. He’s aware of the fact that your powers could have killed any of your teammates -- including himself. But they didn’t. He’s here with you, unafraid, because even though you think your powers are something that should be feared, he just finds them remarkable.

“I know. Trust me, I know. But you didn’t.”

You nodded at his words, feeling a little more at ease. Your heart dropped as he removed his hands from yours, but instead of walking away, Logan took a seat next to you. He didn’t say another word, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to settle you down.

After that day, you thought maybe something changed between you and Logan. Although there was a newfound understanding and sureness with one another -- he still kept you at arm’s length. In all honesty, the whole situation confuses the shit out of you.

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan’s brow furrows at your question, and his eyes finally find yours again. He doesn’t drop the tool in his hand, but he’s shifted his body to face yours now.

“What?”

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan shakes his head as you repeat your question, looking at you incredulously. He doesn’t understand where this outburst is coming from.

“What are you talking about?”

Your brow furrows at the genuineness of his confusion. How could this man not know what you’re talking about?

“Do you like working with me?”

Logan blinks at your words. Now he’s completely lost. He sets down the tool in his hand and stands up, crossing both of his arms over his chest. 

“What’s this all about, sweetheart?”

You let out a frustrated sigh and run your hands through your hair. If only this man knew how infuriated he makes you. So, he won’t drink a beer with you at the end of the day, but he’ll throw around the name ‘sweetheart’ like it’s nothing? The man is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite person.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I did that pissed you off.”

Logan scoffs at the idea as if you’re the one being ridiculous here. And, to Logan, you are being ridiculous. The only thing that’s ever pissed him about you is completely out of your control -- if only you weren’t Scott’s little sister.

“I’m not pissed at you.”

You genuinely want to pull your own hair out right now.

“Are we friends?”

Friends. The word hurts Logan more than it should. Actually, it shouldn’t hurt at all. That’s what you both are, right? Just friends and partners in the field. Except you’ve never been just a friend or just a partner to Logan. Not really. But he can’t do anything about that. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, but his posture is still defensive. 

“Then why won’t you just drink a beer with me?”

Oh. Oh.

Logan supposes that his behavior is odd. Friends are expected to spend time together and well, the only time he spends with you is during training sessions or missions. Your whole relationship is grounded in the two of you working together, but somehow, it’s turned into something more intimate. The tender moments between missions and the tension during intense training sessions -- although Logan had attempted to make clear boundaries with you, the lines blurred at some point, and now Logan is left with the consequences.

“It’s complicated.”

He’s not wrong. He knows himself. His feelings for you were already complicated enough. If he were to close the distance he made between the two of you? Well, he may not actually be an animal, but he’s not sure if he could control himself. 

“Oh, is it?”

You’re frustrated. And you’re no longer leaning against the garage door. No, you’re standing just a few feet away from him now -- hands on your hips defiantly. Logan rolls his shoulders back, trying to stop himself from lashing out against you. You try to ignore how his muscles flex against the thin white tank top he’s wearing due to the movement. 

“Yeah, it is. I promised Scott…”

“This is seriously about my brother?”

“Well, yeah.”

You let out a dry laugh. This whole situation is absurd, but you should have known. Without Alex around, Scott feels the need to be the overprotective older brother. He’s warned you about Logan countless times since he first arrived at the mansion, but you never really listened to him. It always seemed ridiculous to you -- especially since the dangerous man he constantly warned you about was the same man he trusted to protect you during every mission. Of course, Scott also cautioned Logan to stay away from you.

“He may be my brother, but he doesn’t get to make my decisions for me, Logan.”

You take a step towards Logan and he watches you with an intensity that would make you uncomfortable if it were any other man. But this isn’t any other man. 

“And he doesn’t get to choose who I spend my time with.”

And in this moment, Logan knows that he’s fucked. You’re fiesty, and headstrong, and determined -- all attributes that he admires in you. If you’ve decided that he’s the person you want to spend your time with, then who is he to argue? 

“So what do you say -- wanna go for a ride?”

A wild grin spread across his face at your question. Little do you know that he’s thought about this exact moment more than he’ll ever care to admit. Throwing all caution to the wind, he grabs his leather jacket and climbs on his bike. You watch him with bated breath as you wait for his response. Instead of giving you an answer, Logan kicks the starter, causing the motorcycle to roar to life. A part of you is afraid that you misconstrued your relationship and that this is all going to end with Logan riding off on his own. But then Logan looks back at you, eyebrow raised playfully.

“You coming, sweetheart?” 

Without a second thought, you climb on the back of his bike. Logan revs the engine once before glancing back at you again. 

“You might want to hang on.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands slide under his leather jacket and wrap around his waist. Logan tries to fight off the shiver that begs to travel down his spine as he feels the warmth of your hands against his abdomen through the thin cotton fabric. He wonders if you know what you do to him -- how hard it is for him to pull away when he’s in your presence. It’s like you're a magnet made just for him.

“When your brother finds out…”

The laugh that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. And as you press your body closer to his, he decides that even if he’s going to hell for this, at least he gets to experience the heaven of this moment right here.

“What Scotty doesn’t know, won’t kill him.”

Logan shakes his head before peeling out of the garage. God, the Summers family is going to be the death of him.

[sreidisms]

Early seasons Reid and with BAU!reader whom just has a HUGE crush on her and Gideon has to spell it out to Spencer? I just love season 1/2 Reid. Him in glasses just makes me swoon ❤️

THIS IS SO CUTE, like it's so probable too. I didn't understand if you meant that Gideon had to spell out that Spencer likes the reader or that the reader likes Spencer, so I went with the former. If you wanted the latter, tell me and I'll write it!

An Oblivious Genius

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer has feelings for you but is too oblivious to realise - Gideon helps him.

Genre: subtle fluff

Word Count: 862

Warnings: none

A/N: the way I ended this leaves it open to a part two, so please comment if you'd like one!

“I think you have feelings for her.”

“Huh?”

Gideon didn’t lift his gaze from the newspaper in his hands, the wrinkles on his forehead peeking from behind the inked folio. “I said, you may have feelings for her, Reid.”

Spencer never turned to anyone for help, because why would he? He knew more than anyone else when it came to most things - well, except socially. And emotionally. And anything having to do with you.

The only person that wouldn’t bruise his ego was Gideon - his mentor, his guidance. He held more of a God-like presence than a fatherly one for Reid; his advice and experience were almost holy, a dogma which Spencer believed and followed without questioning.

So when his number one source of truth told him he had a crush on you, it was a shock.

“I don’t think that’s the case-”

“Reid.”

Spencer stopped his attempted rambling as Gideon’s eyes made an appearance from behind the lowered paper.

“Just repeat what you were telling me at the start of the conversation,” the older man sighed.

Spencer shifted on his legs, picking at the rolled up sleeve that was settled by his elbow.

“I know she’s my closest friend, the person I feel most comfortable with, although she’s been working here for less time than everyone else. It’s probably because she doesn’t interrupt me and listens when I talk.” He paused for a second, the corner of his mouth lifting into a subtle smile. “I like that.”

“What else?” urged Gideon, setting his newspaper on the desk in front of him.

“I get really excited to see her. Well, I enjoy seeing Derek and Elle too, but I get this weird feeling at the pit of my stomach when I see her.” He pressed his palm to his sternum, showing the origin of the sensation.

“That’s because she means more to you.”

“Yes, but surely not in the way you’re implying. It could be heart burn; do you know that twenty percent of Americans suffer from a gastroesophageal reflux at least once a week-”

“You’re telling me you happen to experience heart burn each time she enters the room?”

Gideon raised an eyebrow, making the younger agent feel dumb for such an improbable conclusion.

“Okay … okay maybe not, the two variables cannot be fully independent of each other if they occur simultaneously every time.”

It was surprising to Gideon that such an intelligent and well-rounded person could be so oblivious to something as romantic feelings. He pressed his thumb and index finger into his eyes, rubbing them slowly and dragging his fingers down his cheeks, buying himself some time to think.

“I think an obvious question is, do you think she’s pretty?” he asked and waved his hand to the side.

Spencer bit his lower lip. He thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on if he had to be entirely honest; but he couldn’t admit that, not out loud at least.

“I do.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say, Gideon? That I think that she’s breath-taking and there’s not a thing about her I don’t like?” He said it with a certain anger, one that was buried somewhere deep inside him, a result of the pent up emotions and anxieties in his chest.

“Is that the truth?” You’d think that with his profiling experience, he would have learnt to mask the way he was suppressing the fluttery feelings and adoration he had for you.

Gideon sighed before speaking again: “What are the signs that one is supressing emotions?”

“Struggling to identify and express feelings or appearing emotionally distant, unexpected mood swings, and avoidance of specific topics, people, or situations.”

“And doesn’t that seem to mirror what you’re going through?”

Spencer thought about it. He was definitely finding it challenging to pin point his emotions, he couldn’t really understand what he felt for you; he didn’t really have mood swings, but had just lashed out at his mentor over a comment; and he certainly avoided the topic of liking you or the teasing of such from his workmates.

“Shit, I like her.”

Gideon chuckled at his out-of-character swearing. “First off, watch your language. Secondly, I’m glad you’ve come round.” He laid back in his chair once more, lifting up the paper to continue his reading.

The young genius didn’t know what to do with this newfound information. He liked you. More than liked you, really. He was fascinated by your mere existence, your kindness, your humour, and most definitely your looks. How hadn’t he realised this sooner?

“What do I do now?” he mumbled, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his button-up shirt.

“You tell her you like her.”

Spencer near snapped his glasses in half with the way the pads of his fingers pressed firmly in shock.

“You want me to do what?”

“Reid, it’s not a secret that she has a soft spot for you.”

The boy sputtered, jaw opening and closing like a door on rusted hinges. “I- I can’t do that!”

The newspaper rustled as Gideon flipped the page. “One of you will eventually.”

God I need him, he's such a cutie

[tumbleweed-run]

Stand Still

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober day 5: sweat

You lay on your bedroll idly watching the clouds roll by above you. There were about three thousand things you should be doing right now but the message that you should get up was not actually traveling from your brain to your body. You were tired. Tired in a way that made it likely you’d end up curling up where you lay, armor and all, and falling asleep. 

There were still a few days until you reached Baldur’s Gate even at the breakneck speed you were all traveling at. Normally the first in the group, leading the way, but today after lunch you’d ended up falling behind. Your legs ached and between the pace your companions were keeping, the sun, and your armor you were sweating. 

Eventually, the distance between the new head of the pack, Karlach, and the last of you grew large enough that new safety concerns were brought up. The road had been forgiving so far in terms of ambushes but that didn’t mean you could let down your guard. So it had been decided with only minimal fuss from Lae’zel that you would make camp even though the sun was still high in the sky. 

A shadow passed over your face and you started, your eyes which you hadn’t realized you’d shut flew open. You sighed in relief to see Gale standing above you, body blocking the sun from your face. 

“Need assistance?” He asked one hand wildly gesturing towards you. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together until you realized he was referring to your armor. “I need a week's rest and a bath,” you groaned as you sat up.

“Unfortunately I cannot help you with the former, the latter however,” Gale began as he offered a hand to help you up,” there’s a stream not far off. In fact, Shadowheart is just back from washing up.

You took his hand and allowed yourself to be pulled to standing. Glancing over his shoulder you saw that Shadowheart had indeed bathed, long dark hair hanging damply around her. 

You sighed heavily, “not the warm soak I was hoping for but it will suffice.”

There was a quick stop at Gale’s tent to gather soaps and fresh clothing. There you also pulled off your armor leaving you standing in just your breeches and undershirt. Despite the warmth of the day you shiver slightly as a light breeze caressed all the places where your shirt was stuck to your body with sweat.

The stream was perhaps closer in size to a small, slow-moving river. The water was clean and clear with plenty of brush and trees obscuring banks from the camp beyond. There were large rocks jutting from the water, smooth and worn from times when the water had breached its boundaries. 

Eagerly you pulled off your boots and seated yourself on a rock, feet dangling into the cool water below. You hadn’t bothered to roll up the bottoms of your pants and the water was slowly soaking up them to your knee. It didn’t matter, everything was going to need to be washed anyway. 

The sun was briefly blocked again as Gale joined you on your rock. He sat behind you, legs bracketing yours. Though he’d taken the time to shove the ends up to the bend of his knees. You idly watched his leg hair dance in the current as he shifted behind you to find a comfortable spot. 

Without thinking, you leaned back against him seeking to take advantage of these few extra moments of rest. You winced and scrambled to sit back up when the dampness of your shirt met with his relatively dry one. 

“Sorry, I should probably actually bathe before trying to cuddle,” you apologized. 

One of Gale’s arms snuck around you, pulling you flush against him. “I will have you any way you’ll let me,” he said pressing a kiss behind your ear. 

A giggle forced it’s way from your mouth. 

He sighed, theatrically behind you, heaving shoulder jostling you. “I did not mean it that way,” he grumbled.

“I know,” you assured, raising a hand and squeezing his arm that was still drawing you back against him. 

“Although,” Gale’s voice was teasing though he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

You laughed again, “aways so kind, even when I’m gross.”

“You are far from gross,” Gale argued and then as if to make a point you felt his tongue trace a quick path from just below your ear to the collar of your shirt. 

You ineffectively attempted to squirm away, but he held you tight.

“How many times must I remind you that I am quite fond of your musk,” he mumbled, mouth still pressed against the skin of your neck. 

“I wonder if that stretch of celibacy got to you,” your turn to tease now. 

Gale chuckled, the force of it vibrating against you. “You, my love, are what’s gotten to me,” he insisted pressing a kiss to your skin. 

His arm finally dropped from where it held you to your thigh, kneading into the muscle gently. 

“Gale, in daylight?” You gasped in mock affront. 

Another chuckle and this time you found yourself arching to neck to allow his lips more space to roam. 

“Perhaps I already made it clear to the others to remain in camp.” He began trailing kisses over every piece of exposed skin. 

You smiled at that revelation. Maybe you should have been offended at his presumption but you weren’t. Gale frequently went out of his way to ensure your privacy even when it didn’t benefit him. 

His hand had traveled up your thigh, fingers gently playing with the laces. You rested your hand on his before plucking the tie open. Taking that as his permission Gale quickly loosened them before diving his hand inside.

He didn’t bother trying to get beneath your smalls, instead opting to rub against you over them. Your legs spread almost instantly, one leg hooking over the top of his. 

“Fuck,” you moaned arching your hips up against his hand. You an arm snaked around the back of his head, holding him into your neck as you rocked. Gale didn’t protest. Instead, he alternated between pressing gently sucking kisses and lapping small stripes with the tip of his tongue. 

With each rock of your hips you felt him hardening against you which only spurred you on. He was absolutely insane the sole rational part of your brain suggested, finding you attractive in this state. It didn’t matter though, his body wasn’t lying and you couldn’t help but love him for all his oddities.

Gale withdrew his hand and you moaned at its loss. 

“Up,” he insisted patting the side of your hip. 

Reluctantly you let him go and stood, twisting so you could brace your hand on his shoulder as you did. When you were standing he guided you, with an impatience you couldn’t help smile at, to turn so you were facing him. 

He was quick to help you shimmy from your breeches, glaring at you only a little as you both struggled with the damp legs. They were briskly discarded in the direction of the bank though you didn’t know if they’d actually made it. Your smalls were next to be shimmied down and then tossed. Until you were left standing naked from the waist down before him. 

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled until you were straddling him so close you could feel his puffs of breath on your cunt. 

“Shit,” you breathed, hand instinctively clutching at his hair. 

He balanced you with both hands on your ass, forearms bracing your thighs as he drew you in to close the gap. Gale’s mouth was on you with no further warning, tongue darting out to press between your folds. He was lapping everywhere not just your clit where you desperately wanted him. You wanted to drag him there but the way his fingers flexed against your ass told you he wasn’t going to allow you to direct this. 

That final ration part of your brain, the one slowly suffocating as the words Gale and please became the only things you could thing, realized you were standing precariously on a rock. One wrong move and you’d go flying into the water below. At least it was deep enough you weren’t likely to get seriously hurt if you did. 

Gale’s teeth ghosted across your clit causing all other coherent thoughts to flee from your brain. You were reduced to moans and whimpers as you ineffectively rocked your hips against his face begging him to do it right. You knew he could have had you coming by now which meant he was torturing you for fun. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

Then he drew back. You seriously considered violence until your eyes met his. He held your gaze for a moment before slowly leaning back in, continuing to watch you. When his tongue pressed between your folds this time, he was serious. He alternated between sucking at your clit and pressing maddening circles around it with his tongue until you were all but trying to climb onto his face. 

When your orgasm rolled through you, hands gripping into Gale’s hair to keep his face in your cunt, you shouted loud enough it was likely those back at camp heard. Your thighs shook until you collapsed. Gale skillfully guided you down so you were straddling his lap. 

“I swear if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll die,” you threatened through your panting, pussy clenching around nothing still. You needed him inside you.

“Insatiable,” Gale laughed as he quickly undid his own trousers. 

There was a few moments of awkward shifting as you refused to leave his lap but needed his pants pushed down. When finally his cock sprung free you grasped it greedily, shuffling forward on your knees. Gale realized what you were doing too late, hand reaching your hips to stop you as you already slid down on him completely.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, you’re too impatient,” he chastised hands pinning your hips to his, forcing you to give yourself time to adjust. 

You rolled your eyes at him, you’d been so wet there’d been hardly any resistance when you lowered yourself. Now you wanted to rock, you wanted so badly to fuck yourself on him that you were growing frustrated with him. 

Maybe it was the low growl that rolled from your throat that got him to release your hips, or maybe he too was finally growing impatient. But he released you and almost immediately you raised up on your knees just to sink back down his full length again. 

As you selfishly sought to continuously fill yourself with him, not interested in finding a rhythm yet, Gale set to work divesting you of the rest of your clothes. 

“Gods,” he groaned pressing a kiss to one of your nipples, “I cannot wait to take you home and make you ride my face for hours.”

The image that took up residence in your brain had your hips stuttering, suddenly now interested in finding a rhythm that would please both of you. His hands went to your hips in an effort to aid you this time and you let him guide you. 

He buried his face between your breasts, tongue tracing strange patterns. Curious you looked down and realized you’d begun sweating again and he was chasing the little beads that had dripped down your chest. You groaned hips rolling. 

“You’re insane,” you told him breathily. 

For once Gale had no response. He did allow his mouth to wander until his lips found your nipple again. He pulled it into his mouth and you moaned, head falling back. Your hand came to rest at the back of his neck, anchoring both of you. 

In that moment you could almost forget the tadpoles, the elderbrain, and the dead three. You could just exist in this space with Gale, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your hips with each thrust, the sun beating down on your closed eyes. You wanted to remain here, like this, forever. 

The coiling in your belly quickly reminded you that moments never lasted. 

“Fuck, Gale, please,” you whined not sure what you were asking for.

He understood nonetheless. He took over then, fucking up into you. Hips snapping into yours in earnest. Each time it seem his cock buried deeper into you. You cried out pressing a hand between the two of you, fingers immediately going to rub against your clit. 

“Shit,” you cried, second orgasm crashing into you almost instantly. You lost balance toppling forward onto Gale. He held you tight, hips bucking up into you wildly now. With a groan he came, pulsing inside of you. 

After a moment he laid back in a move that was more of a collapse, bringing you with him. He tilted his hips in an effort to stay inside of you as you laid against his chest. Both of you trying to catch your breath. 

[stxrbxrn]

the feast of forbidden fruit …

pairing: hannibal x f!reader tw: implied cannibalism, dubious consent, uhealthy/obsessive relationship dynamics, sexual content ( not full out smut but hints towards it ) word count: 1.8k (ish)

you step into the dimly lit gallery, your heels echoing on the polished marble floor. the air is heavy with the scent of aged wood and oil paint, a fitting atmosphere for the exhibition of renaissance masterpieces. but it's not the art that draws your gaze tonight. it's him.

dr. hannibal lecter stands before a botticelli, his profile sharp and regal in the soft lighting. he turns, as if sensing your presence, and his maroon eyes lock onto yours. a shiver runs down your spine - from fear or excitement, you're not quite sure.

"good evening," he says, his accented voice smooth as silk. "i was hoping you'd come."

you approach, drawn into his orbit like a moth to flame. "i wouldn't miss it, dr. lecter. your taste in art is... exquisite."

his lips curve into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "as is yours, my dear. both in art and... company."

the double meaning hangs in the air between you. you've been dancing this dangerous waltz for months now, circling each other in a game of cat and mouse. but which of you is the predator, and which the prey?

"would you care to join me for a closer look?" he asks, gesturing to the painting.

you nod, allowing him to guide you with a gentle hand on the small of your back. his touch burns through the thin fabric of your dress.

as you stand before the botticelli, he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "do you see how the artist has captured the vulnerability of the human form? the delicate interplay of light and shadow on bare flesh?"

your breath catches in your throat. "yes," you whisper. "it's beautiful."

"indeed," he murmurs. "beauty and suffering, inexorably intertwined. one cannot truly appreciate the former without experiencing the latter."

you turn to face him, your faces mere inches apart. "and which are you offering tonight, dr. lecter? beauty or suffering?"

his eyes gleam in the low light. "why not both?"

the world seems to fade away, leaving only you and hannibal in this moment of exquisite tension. you know you should run, should flee from the darkness you see swirling in the depths of his gaze. but you're captivated, ensnared by the enigma of the man before you.

"come," he says, offering his arm. "let us continue our tour. there is so much more i wish to show you."

you take his arm, your fate sealed with that simple gesture. as he leads you deeper into the gallery, you can't help but wonder if you're walking willingly into the lion's den.

the rest of the evening passes in a blur of wine, witty conversation, and lingering glances. hannibal is the perfect gentleman, charming and erudite. but beneath the polished veneer, you sense something wild and dangerous lurking just beneath the surface.

as the night draws to a close, he escorts you to your car. "i've greatly enjoyed your company this evening," he says, his hand still resting on the small of your back.

"as have i," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

he leans in, his lips brushing against your cheek. "until next time, my dear," he murmurs. "sweet dreams."

you drive home in a daze, your mind reeling from the evening's events. as you prepare for bed, you can't shake the feeling that something has fundamentally shifted. you've crossed a threshold, and there's no going back.

that night, your dreams are a kaleidoscope of images - flashes of steel, splashes of crimson, and always, always, those burning maroon eyes watching you.

* * *

days pass, but you can't get dr. lecter out of your mind. his presence lingers like a phantom limb, an ache you can't quite shake. you find yourself obsessively replaying every moment of your encounters, analyzing each word, each gesture.

when your phone rings and his name appears on the screen, your heart leaps into your throat.

"hello, my dear," his voice purrs through the speaker. "i was wondering if you might join me for dinner tomorrow evening. i'm preparing a rather special menu, and i can think of no one i'd rather share it with."

you know you should refuse. every instinct screams at you to make an excuse, to put distance between yourself and this man who both thrills and terrifies you. but the words that come out of your mouth betray you:

"i'd be delighted, dr. lecter."

you can almost hear his smile through the phone. "excellent. shall we say 8 o'clock? and please, call me hannibal."

the next evening finds you standing before his door, your heart pounding a staccato rhythm against your ribs. you smooth down your dress, take a deep breath, and knock.

the door swings open, and there he stands, resplendent in a three-piece suit. "good evening," he says, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your form. "you look ravishing."

he ushers you inside, taking your coat with the grace of a perfect host. the air is rich with the aroma of simmering herbs and spices, making your mouth water despite your nerves.

"i hope you're hungry," hannibal says, leading you into the dining room. the table is set with exquisite china and gleaming silverware, a single red rose in a crystal vase serving as the centerpiece.

"starving," you reply, and something in his eyes flashes at your choice of words.

he pulls out your chair, ever the gentleman, before disappearing into the kitchen. you take the moment alone to steady your nerves, reminding yourself that this is just dinner. nothing more.

but as hannibal returns, bearing plates of food that look more like works of art than mere sustenance, you know you're only lying to yourself. this is so much more than just dinner.

"our first course," he announces, setting a plate before you. "carpaccio of veal heart, with a black truffle emulsion."

you raise an eyebrow at the choice of meat, but the presentation is stunning. hannibal watches intently as you take your first bite. the flavors explode on your tongue - rich, complex, unlike anything you've ever tasted before.

"it's incredible," you breathe.

his smile is one of genuine pleasure. "i'm so glad you enjoy it. i always take great care in selecting the... ingredients for my special guests."

the meal progresses through several more exquisite courses, each one a symphony of flavors and textures. hannibal is the perfect host, keeping the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. but there's an undercurrent of tension, a predatory gleam in his eye that both excites and unnerves you.

as he clears away the dessert plates, you find yourself feeling slightly lightheaded. whether from the rich food, the wine, or simply hannibal's intoxicating presence, you're not sure.

"shall we retire to the study for a digestif?" he suggests, offering his hand to help you up.

you take it, relishing the warmth of his skin against yours. "lead the way."

his study is a temple to refined taste - walls lined with leather-bound books, artwork that probably costs more than your yearly salary, and a crackling fire that casts dancing shadows across the room.

hannibal pours two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. "armagnac," he explains, handing you one. "a 1965 vintage. i've been saving it for a special occasion."

you accept the glass, your fingers brushing against his. "and what occasion might that be?"

he takes a step closer, invading your personal space. "tonight," he pauses, eyes transfixed on your face, "the night you become mine."

your breath catches in your throat. this is the moment you've both been building towards, the culmination of months of tension and unspoken desire. you should be afraid - you know, deep down, that there's something not quite right about hannibal lecter. but all you feel is a burning need.

"what makes you think i want to be yours?" you challenge, even as your body betrays you, leaning into him.

his free hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "you've been mine since the moment our eyes first met."

he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. it's nothing like you imagined - it's better. his mouth is hot, demanding, tasting of armagnac and something darker, something uniquely hannibal.

you melt into him, your glass slipping from your fingers and shattering on the hardwood floor. neither of you pays it any mind. your hands fist in the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer as his own hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

when you finally break apart, gasping for air, his eyes are wild with hunger. "tell me you want this," he growls, his accent thicker with desire. "tell me you want me."

"i want you," you breathe, beyond the point of no return. "god help me, i need you."

it's a desperate, violent thing, all clashing teeth and battling tongues. you pour all your fear, all your desire, all your conflicted emotions into that kiss. and hannibal matches you passion for passion, his hands gripping you so tightly you know you'll have bruises tomorrow.

when you break apart, you're both panting. "what happens now?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

hannibal's smile is a thing of terrible beauty. "now, my dear, we feast."

he lead you back to the wooded table, lifting you effortlessly to sit upon it. the material cold against your bare thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of hannibal's body as he steps between your legs.

"are you afraid?" he asks, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

you consider lying, but you know he'd see right through it. "yes," you admit before considering the thought further.

"good," he says, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "fear heightens the senses. makes everything more... intense."

his hands slide up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. you shiver, but not entirely from fear. despite everything - or perhaps because of it - you want him more than you've ever wanted anyone in your life.

"hannibal," you gasp as his lips trail down your neck, "i need-"

"shh," he soothes, his breath hot against your skin. "i know exactly what you need. trust me."

and lord have mercy on you, you do. you trust him as he slowly undresses you, as he worships your body with his hands and mouth. you trust him as he takes you there on the table. your cries of pleasure echoing off the stone walls.

afterward, as you lie tangled together, your body humming with satisfied desire. you lose yourself in his embrace once more, you know that you've crossed a line from which there's no return. you've willingly stepped into the darkness, hand in hand with the monster who now owns your heart and soul.

and god help you, you wouldn't have it any other way.

[incandescentwarmth]

Do you have any rosestarkillerchaser thoughts

Do I??? Also I still cannot get over that ship name ��💀

Okay so like imagining that James and Evan were gonna be out all day so Barty and Reg decide to get dressed up all pretty as presents to be unwrapped that night when their boyfriends get home. The two of them get distracted though and James and Evan walk in on the two of them making out, so lost in each other that they don’t notice they’re being watched. After watching for a moment they start the teasing words from the doorway “look at you, you fuck like two rabbits. Can’t keep your hands off of each other for even a second can you?” Barty and Reg jump apart and James goes to the former, Evan the latter. “Isn’t that right, bunny? You can’t help yourself can you” James says with his hand around Barty’s throat. Evan is caging Reggie in on the bed, kissing him roughly like Barty just was and grinding his knee, still in his jeans, against Reggie’s lace covered clit and it makes Reg squirm in overstimulation immediately. James and Evan spend the night trading the others back and forth, making Reg come so many times he’s crying and begging for a break while on the other hand, they use Barty without letting him finish, treating him like a sex toy while they get off with him how they want and using him for their own pleasure. Once they’re finished with Barty and Reg can barely form a sentence, they have Barty take a turn with Reg, guiding him to be oh so rough with Reggie who is twitching and whining with every movement. Reg is seeing stars when Barty gets his permission to cum and they both collapse on each other fully spent and exhausted.

[kellysue]

Members of the cast of #FMLComix tell you how to pre-order #FMLComix.

FML #1 arrives in November 2024 with main cover art by David López and variant covers featuring artwork by Alvaro Martinez Bueno, David LaFuente, Nicola Scott (1:10 incentive variant), and Pepe Larraz (1:25 incentive variant). One additional variant cover will be revealed at a later date. Each issue will feature bonus material such as essays on music, true crime, interviews, and more that will be exclusive only to the single issues.

“David and I have been talking about doing something creator-owned together since Captain Marvel, but it took years for the stars and our schedules to properly align,” said DeConnick. “Now that we’re here though, it almost feels planned — like we needed exactly as long as it took us to grow and change, both as artists and as people, so that we could come back together for this big swing.

“FML is a challenging book — stylistically and in tone — and I’m not sure we could have pulled it off five years ago, honestly. But here we are—and I’m so proud of and impressed by the work put in by everyone involved. David is drawing like he’s got something to prove, Cris is pulling disparate styles together seamlessly, tying them together with her palette and Clayton of course, our ace and secret weapon, works his subtle magic on lettering to make sure you hear everything in your head exactly the way it was intended. McCubbin developed this terrific logo that evolves with each issue, and I don’t even know where to start with how supportive and inspiring Daniel Chabon’s editorial team has been. They’ve given us exactly what we needed at every step along the way.

“For my part, FML feels of a piece with Pretty Deadly and Bitch Planet; it’s as personal as the former and as satirical and of-the-moment as the latter.”

"This is without a doubt one of the best and most important books I have had the honor to edit in my fifteen years in the comic book industry,” added Senior Editor Daniel Chabon. “I have been a tremendous fan of this creative team for a long, long time; and I cannot wait for everyone to pick up this series and to see what an amazing achievement it is."

Riley is a 16-year-old heavy metal kid who draws down his anxiety with a ballpoint pen. His mother is an aging punk cartoonist slam dancing with a true crime obsession. Bound by threads of magical realism, they navigate the absurdities and horrors of our modern lives.

Issue one introduces Riley’s daily life: terrorism diaries, school shooter drills, and social pressures under the constant shadow of encroaching wildfires that rain ash like a morbid snow. His refuge? The Forest Park Witch’s House, where tales of chaos magic and trickster gods promise some semblance of sense in a senseless world.

Echoing the comedy of “Bottoms,” the nostalgic pull of “Stranger Things,” and the coming-of-age journey in “Stand By Me,” DeConnick’s first return to creator-owned comics since Bitch Planet is an apocalyptic odyssey that speaks to the resilience of the misfit and the power of art.

FML #1 (of 8) arrives in comic shops on November 6, 2024. It is now available to pre-order at your your local comic shop for $4.99.

Be sure to follow DarkHorseComics on social media and check our website, www.darkhorse.com for more news, announcements, and updates.

Praise Kelly Sue DeConnick and David López: “DeConnick has always combed top-notch lyrical text with a knack for bringing out the best in the artists she works with.”—Polygon

“Kelly Sue DeConnick either writes with a King Midas pen, is one of the few remaining wizards in the world, or, most likely, is just that damn good because Bitch Planet is yet another amazing series with her name on the cover.”—Word on the Nerd

“Pretty Deadly pushes at the limits of medium, challenging our ideas of what comics can be.”—IGN

“Kelly Sue DeConnick’s Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons may just be the best thing to come out of the Black Label line to date.”—IGN

“Kelly Sue DeConnick is a force in comics.”—Book Riot

“Kelly Sue DeConnick—a powerhouse in the comics world.”—Salon

“A primal scream in exquisitely worked gold.”—Polygon on Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons

“López’s pencils are like a breath of fresh air. His style evokes a classic superhero aesthetic while still bringing subtle emotional vulnerability to these characters through strong storytelling and page design.”—Nerds Unchained on Captain Marvel (2014)

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Restraints with Aemond

Part of Kinktober 2024

When your stepfather, Daemon, returns to Dragonstone before any of you know he's left and tells you that he has brought you a gift, you had no idea what to expect. Wealth from the Riverlands? A husband to secure your safety? Some other unknown treasure?

The latter is probably the most accurate, for your present is none other than your uncle, Prince Aemond Targaryen, stripped bare and chained to the floor of his cell. Although, considering your former, and quite definitively ended, betrothal, there is some truth in the middle, as well.

"Ñuhos prūmȳs," he calls softly, his voice ragged and low. The words sting like a blade. He had to know it. Did he he say because he knew it would hurt you? Has he truly become so cruel? My heart.

You shut the door behind you, nodding to the guards in the hall to stay alert before facing Aemond. He is bruised all over, and several bloody slashes mark his skin - on his hands, his arms, and... and his cheek, crossing the scar he received so long ago.

The scar that drove him to nearly slaying your little brother not a fortnight ago. Luke had only just awoken, but Arrax still sang a dirge from the Dragonmont.

"Luo nykēle prūmiot daor." You impress yourself with your ability to keep your voice steady when your heart is shattering. But as you try to say more, using your Valyrian mother tongue becomes too painful, for it was always how you had spoken to each other in the days when you loved him, and he you. "I forbid it."

His mouth twitches in a way you know reflects the hurt you have caused him, but you do not allow yourself to care, not with the hurt he has inflicted on you and those you love.

"Nevertheless," he replies, slow and purposeful, "it remains true."

You storm toward him, rage burning bright in your blood as you slap him with all your might, just as your elder brother did at that ill-fated supper not long ago. "How could it be true?" you demand. "If you still loved me, how could you hurt me so?"

He glowers. "I have never once, in all my days, intended to cause you harm."

"Yet you have!" You can no longer hold back your anger. "Because your hatred for my mother and brothers is stronger than your love for me has ever been."

"That is a lie," he whispers. You are grateful for the darkness of the cell that prevents you from seeing the tears you can hear in his voice. "I will not deny my hatred, but I swear that I love you more than anything I have felt in my life."

You stare at him, at the little of him you can see. His pale skin, the soft sparkle off his sapphire eye, his lips ever so slightly open as he pleads with you. It is clear he is not lying, you know him well enough to see that easily. But you cannot resolve the contradiction of his words. "How can you hate them while loving me? When I share their blood and their loyalties? When you hate them so much that you would try to kill them?"

"Because..." his voice strains as he trails off, as if whatever Daemon did to him ripped his voice away. But still, he tries. "Because I do. Be it a gift or a curse from the gods, I love you unfailingly. I would do anything for you, to prove myself to you."

Love and hatred swirl in your chest until they combine into some angry, vengeful thing that terrifies you even as it seizes control of your body. "Then do so."

His questions are lost to the blood rushing through your ears as you kneel on the damp stone floor in front of his and begin rucking up your skirts. "If you would do anything for me," you hiss into his ear as you raise yourself up, bracing yourself on his shoulders to better straddle his trapped legs, "then be what it is you hate my mother for - be my 'whore,' Aemond."

He does not protest as you begin rocking yourself on him, his cock swiftly hardening beneath you, but he groans without stifling the sounds. When you rise on your knees and reach down to position him at your entrance, he drops his head into your shoulder and whines. "Please, ñuhos prūmȳs, let me touch you."

"I forbade you from calling me that," you remind him. "And I forbid you from touching me, as well. Until you prove to me that I can once more trust you, and believe that your love for me is true."

You swear you can hear him sob as you sink down on his length, but he protests no further.

Aemond plays the part of your whore admirable for half a year, until Luke, fully recovered from his ordeal, begs you to forgive him. Both he and Jace have grown tired of hearing the One-Eyed Prince's begging each night, and are willing to forgive him themselves if it means they can again sleep peacefully.

Author's Note: That got more angsty than I intended whoops

[voxtechemployee]

what are you hcs for the v's during sex?

just like,,, general sex headcanons?? i can do that!!

✩・.VELVETTE ✩ this woman screams dominant energy - she will bottom on occasion, but even from beneath she's 100% in control ✩ this woman gets waxed completely bare and makes sure that her schedule ALWAYS lines up with having it done (she's very meticulous with her appearance) ✩ there's usually at least one sex toy involved when you both go at it ✩ f/f sex doesn't tend to go in rounds, per say, so when you two have sex, it lasts for at least two or three hours at minimum ✩ my personal hc? bisexual, but with a HEAVY preference for women

: ̗̀➛ VOX ➛ getting the obvious out of the way, he loves electrostimulation and wireplay - obviously the former on you, but the latter on himself (it only happens once you two are VERY close, though, he doesn't trust many in his wiring and for good reason) ➛ this man is a brat tamer, for sure - he enjoys when you're obedient and well-behaved, but acting out of turn every once and a while shakes things up and he loves to exert his power over you ➛ despite being friends with two of the most questionable people consent-wise in hell, he actually prefers to have your consent and won't have sex with you if you're drugged up or more than like, a drink or two deep ➛ as a true bisexual, vox views a hole as a hole - as long as he can get his dick into you somehow, that's what counts ➛ likes being called 'sir' and 'daddy', and bonus points if you call him that in front of other people

・❥・VALENTINO ♡ this man has full capabilities to get every partner he's ever been with off during sex, but it's definitely not a priority for him (he's selfish as hell) ♡ he rarely shuts up during sex and he speaks so much spanish (you're not getting out of it without calling him papi at least a dozen times lmfao) ♡ he's honestly packing - his cock cannot be shorter than eight inches and he's got some girth and a slight curve upwards ♡ despite not being one to reciprocate often, his tongue can do absolutely wicked things that will leave you in the throes of multiple orgasms ♡ he smells faintly of sex at all times, but it's never not accompanied by the scent of smoke and some kind of really nice, musky cologne

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I know you don't like discussing the muses but i love your takes and perspectives and i had to ask you about this. after listening to ttpd, did you have the impression that she really loved matty more than any of her exes/previous relationships?. And listening to the whole album as a whole would you call it the ''matty album'' or do you think there are more prominent themes in there than their period together?. (hope this doesn't bother you, feel free to delete if you don't feel like answering it)

hey anon! You're right, I don't really like to get into the muses as I don't really think there's anything to add to the conversation at this point, and ultimately I don't think it matters.

That being said, and with the caveat that I am not Taylor and I do not know Taylor so I cannot speak to her thoughts and can only make relatively educated guesses based on being an avid consumer of her work and a student of the human condition (lol), no I do not think Taylor loved Matty more than anyone else. I think there was maybe a brief period in the thick of things where she *thought* she did because she was not thinking clearly and was in full-on denial, but to me the message that is loud and clear in the album (and more or less explicitly stated in the epilogue) is that it was not any kind of real love affair. It was certainly infatuation and lust and the promise of something more, and there may have been some love as well, but he was in no way the love of her life by any measure.

I would call it a "Matty album" insofar as they're about events in which he was present, sure. But I feel it much more as a Taylor album, if that makes sense, even though I know that's a cop out because every album is to a degree. I can't explain it well, but I don't see TTPD as a Matty (or Joe) album in the way that I would maybe say Red is a "Jake" album or 1989 may be a "Harry" album or even Lover being a "Joe" album whatever, because even if they don't figure in all the songs, that kind of heartbreak permeates so much of the material.

The thing about TTPD and the Matty situation is that the Matty situation is really a Joe situation (which in some ways is actually partially a Jake situation). I always say I hate treating Taylor like a character so I hate speaking about her and her work in this way, but you don't get the Matty situation without the Joe situation precipitating it. It's @taylortruther's now-infamous donut vs. hole analogy. The reason Taylor makes the choices she does with Matty is directly tied to what happened with Joe that made her feel she needed to. Which is not to say Taylor isn't responsible for her own actions or doesn't have agency in her own life, but I mean it in that the situation in which she found herself with Joe, and the pain it caused, is what made the alternative so comforting and perhaps even necessary in her mind. It's why it makes it so hard to "paternity test" the album, because the stories are inherently intertwined and you don't get the former without the latter.

The major "theme" of the album to me is the loss of a very specific, very personal dream, and the way in which she lost it, and the way in which grieving that loss drove her to make the choices she did. We're all talking very delicately about it because it's a sensitive topic, but it's late on Friday and few people are going to see this, so I'm going to say it: it's the give you my wild, give you a child of it all. The yearning she expresses both overtly and sub-textually for having a family in the album is palpable in a very iykyk kind of way, and it's the realization that those plans are not going to come to fruition in the way she had once imagined that drives a lot of the pain she experiences, and makes her jump at the chance to find that again with someone else.

I started a draft post about the theme of womanhood and motherhood on TTPD three months ago that I never finished because I ran out of time and ran out of steam, but it was the most striking thing to me on the album, not because I didn't know that she wanted those things because that's been obvious for years (definitely since Lover, and again, peace put it all on the table), but because the vulnerability she expressed about it on the album is incredibly moving, and it's so generous of her to trust listeners with those feelings and experiences.

Again, it's the thirtysomething of it all.

She is in relationship A which she at one point believes is forever, one which she at one point believes is going to lead to marriage and children. She is so committed to that dream that she either ignores or tries to fix serious issues that may otherwise lead others to think the two people in the relationship are incompatible, both because she loves the person deeply and because she feels that this is meant to be the way she achieves that dream. She gives it her everything, and it still dies a slow, painful, onerous death, and she feels like it may take her along with it. The dream of getting married and presumably having a family gets taken off the table: how we don't know and will likely never know because that is private between the parties involved. All that matters in the context of the album is that those plans never come to fruition and never would.

Then you have relationship B, an old flame who knows just enough buttons to push both to trigger and to flatter. A person who she presumably trusts with very sensitive, personal information as her life slowly crumbles, and this person is telling her all the things she wants to hear because he knows about what is happening in relationship A because she's told him. Person in relationship B doesn't get an "in" with her and sell her this dream unless what happens in relationship A precedes it. It's not a grand love affair for the ages, it's not a mutual decision on building their own dream together. It's Person B learning about what is happening with Person A and saying "I can do that!" even if he can't or doesn't. The dream he sells her is a rental car; it's not his own, he's just borrowing it from someone else and selling it back to her.

And the reason she falls for it is because it is what she aches for the most in her personal life, and she is grappling with it disintegrating, so she (unfortunately for her) falls for the easy way out, and in turn sells herself a story about how this must be fated, and this must be meant to be, because this person wants all the same things she does and she didn't even have to bargain for it! Well, yes, because she fed him the dream in the first place. (Like a mark falling for a sleeper cell spy.) It's too good to be true because it isn't true. IMO Person B doesn't come running out of the gate with the marriage/baby/dream life promises unless he knows that is what she most desires. But what's left unsaid out of all of it is that: those dreams were her dreams because they were her dreams with Person A. It was a whole life they had together, and a whole life they had planned for in some fashion, and a whole life that has to be dismantled in the aftermath.

So all this to say, yes, on the surface, Matty is a "main character" on the album, but truly he's a side character to Taylor as the narrator and person experiencing it and Joe as the ghost bit-player-who-haunts-every-scene. (Again, I hate referring to real people as characters, it gives me the absolute ick, but in this case it's the only way to answer the question.) I jokingly call it the Matty album for shorthand or when I want to say something out of pocket, but really, it's a disservice to the album to say that because it's not a muse album as in it's about the romance (like, say, Red often is), it's about a soul-crushing heartbreak that goes beyond it. The romance is the symptom, not the cause.

The loss of youth is tied in with all this: she's not 22 anymore. She isn't even 32 anymore. She had a very specific idea of what her life was going to look like at this point and had planned for that life, and it goes up in smoke. But again, to bring the womanhood into it all: there is, unfortunately, a deadline for these things. You're with someone for over half a decade you think is going to be your life partner and father of your children and and then he's not. You spent half a decade building this relationship for it to crumble, but now you're in your mid-30s and you don't necessarily have another half-decade to build that trust and faith in someone else before being ready to start a family. And maybe you're scared that anyone else who may become your partner will need that much time to build that trust and faith, because that's kind of all you've ever know in relationships. But lo and behold, someone comes into your life you once had feelings for and maybe now do again and is offering you everything you want and thought you'd have by this point in your life right now. It feels like an elixir that as we find out is actually poison.

That youth is not just the chance for motherhood, but it's also the hopes and idealism and belief in the future that often gradually erodes as we age. But for Taylor as well, it's also tied into the trauma of what she went through particularly in 2016, which kicks off a lot of things on the album as well (her retreat, her relationship with Joe, the pivoting in her career, etc.). That event caused a pretty clear before/after in her life (like a few other events, I suspect), and another major theme in the album is her finally grappling with the full weight of that. They're all different branches of the same tree of the story of TTPD and her life.

I could talk about this stuff forever, but I'm going to stop here because it's long enough and I should save stuff for one of the dozens of drafts I have half-baked lol. But this is just something I needed to get off my chest perhaps.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sorry for deviating from the current Topic (and from the theme of the blog) but do you have any Shadowvanilla/Pureshadow hcs or ideas? They're my favorite Beat x Ancient pair and your mind makes tasty food

One more ask before I log off and go do my damn work like I'm supposed to lol

Don't apologize, I really don't mind questions about stuff besides Evil Spice Man x Pretty Cheese Lady 😅 I enjoy quite a few ships within these games, PureShadow included. They're actually my #2 Beast x Ancient pair! #3 is split between MysticCacao and SilentLily, with the latter having an edge over the former. I'd probably have a more concrete enjoyment of HollySugar if I had an idea of what Eternal Sugar is actually like (which is hypocritical of me since we don't know Silent Salt either but whatever leave me alone), and also if I didn't love HollyCacao so much (they were actually my #1 straight ship before BurningCheese completely destroyed my life. It's also what keeps MysticCacao lower down the totem pole, as well. I love Dark, Depressed Person x Ray of Sunshine pairs, same thing with AbyssEel)

Blue Discount Bill Cipher x Cookie Jesus, here we gooooooo

I imagine that Shadow would be quite touchy, and likely rather silly and dramatic in how he satisfies his want/need for touch. He'll pinch Vanilla's cheeks. He'll hug Vanilla tight, from any and all sides (and he will try to sneak up and hug him by surprise if he can, because he thinks startling Vani is funny). He'll fiddle with Vanilla's hair. He'll also try to have Vanilla touch him, in turn; like grabbing Vanilla's hands and placing them on his waist, or looping Vanilla's arms around his neck. Just a touch-starved clown goblin thing (but Vani thinks it's cute, so it's ok)

Many, many mind games - but not necessarily the sort designed to torment, the ones legitimately meant to challenge and sharpen one's wit. Shadow gives Vanilla riddles and waits to see when and how he'll solve them (when, not if, because Vani actually is smart and Shadow loves it). They compete to see who can complete a crossword first (extremely large and highest difficulty possible). Games of chess that last all day, with that day ending with an equal amount of victories and losses on both sides. Above all else - and there's a lot, don't you worry - Shadow loves Vanilla's mind. His know-how, his mental fortitude. He considers Vanilla his only intellectual equal. He likes to put Vanilla's mind under pressure just to see how Vanilla will perform. And Vanilla never disappoints.

Vanilla knows Shadow well enough soon enough to know when Shadow is lying, even without the Light of Truth aiding his perception in any way. Shadow has tells, however subtle and controlled they are - and Vanilla comes to know them well, to the point that Shadow well and truly cannot fool him no matter what trick he pulls. (But it's fine; Shadow actually enjoys the frustration that comes with not being able to fool Vani anymore. It only pushes him to practice lying better. To perfect his craft. Vani is doing him a favor, in a way. He'll trick him again one of these days)

Lots of pet names and terms of endearment from Shadow to Vanilla, of varying degrees of silliness (but all equally sincere). Above all else, he's "Vani" and "Silly-Vanilly", but he's also the sun to Shadow's moon, the angel to Shadow's devil, the butter on his biscuit, the award to his stageplay, the wind beneath his wings, the hand rocking his cradle (lol wtf), the kindling to his wildfire, his cutie, his darling, his muse (Shadow calls him this a lot, too). He says it all with all the grinning confidence an unapologetically flirtatious clown can muster... Until Vani calls him "dear", then he immediately melts into a puddle of blue goo lol

Though he insists that he's found joy and peace in the present, Vanilla does miss his old kingdom - and Shadow knows it, because he likes to waltz in and make himself at home in Vani's thoughts and dreams a lot lol. In a rare moment of genuine sympathy (because Shadow does care about him, he might be a menace, and he might have an... interesting way of showing it, but he does love and adore his Vani), Shadow will sometimes try to manipulate his dreams into ones about the kingdom. About that idyllic past that he misses so much. He'll try to draw from what he can see of Vanilla's memories (which isn't much, admittedly; Vanilla's mind is surprisingly guarded) and use those to paint him pretty pictures of people and places that don't exist anymore. He doesn't actually know if it helps, Vani won't really say anything about it (or if he even notices it's Shadow doing it), but... he tries anyway, because being sad when someone else is sad is a garbage feeling and he wants it gone. And he wants Vani to smile. Vani has a nice smile. The prettiest smile he ever did see...

Shadow is actually fun and interesting to talk to, if you manage to undo all the webs of lies and half-truths and ploys for attention cocooning his stupid ass. And Vanilla puts in the effort, out of a genuine want to get to know Shadow - the real one, not whatever mask Shadow puts on for every situation. Shadow never says so, but... he appreciates it. It's rather touching. No one's done that in a long, long time... (Not that Shadow likes to talk about that, or his past at all, even with Vani's gentle insistence)

Shadow will not leave Vanilla alone ever lol. Whether in his mind or in person. Shadow is clingy and an attention-seeker, and he craves Vanilla's attention above all others'. Vanilla doesn't mind, he likes spending time with Shadow, but he does worry about how healthy it is to only want one person in your life and tries to encourage him to also spend time with others (to varying degrees of success)

Shadow is probably into bondage and Vani probably indulges him occasionally, provided he remembers their safe word and still respects Vani's boundaries in general

[matan4il]

Believe it or not it is possible for people to agree with the fact that Jews are native to the land, while simultaneously thinking that does not give them the right in the here and now to establish their own state there (and displace the people who have been living there for several hundred years).

Believe it or not, recognizing that Jews are native to the Land of Israel, while denying them the rights that come from that, is not the great line of defence you think it is.

Native rights are not conditional.

A people does not lose its right to self determination, to self rule in their ancestral land, no matter what they had done at one point in time. The Cambodian Khmer Rouge massacred at least 1.7 million people, Cambodians and other minorities living in Cambodia, but I'm sure you don't go to the blogs of Cambodians on Tumblr, to tell them that they lost the right to their state in their own land. The Japanese committed atrocities during WWII, such as the Nanjing massacre, yet no one says Japan has lost the right to exist. And of course, Nazi Germany started the bloodiest military conflict in human history, and committed the most extreme case of a genocide, which was actually industrialized. I'm looking forward to you coming off anon, to show me the asks you sent to Japanese or Germans on Tumblr, telling them they don't have a right to their own state anymore...

If the only native rights you treat as conditional, are those of the Jews, your stance is antisemitic.

2. That's before we get to the part where you distort Jewish history to vilify Jews, and their national liberation movement. Zionists absolutely did try to coexist with the Arabs in Israel.

Here's one piece on Jewish attempts to reach peace with the Arabs before the State of Israel was even established. Here's another on the Weizmann-Faisal peace agreement between Jews and Arabs in 1919, in which both sides agreed to respect and help with the national aspirations of the other side. On Faisal's part, the agreement was conditioned on Britain's promise to help create a greater unified Arab state. This was never fulfilled, so the agreement became void, too. But I think its importance is in showing the Jewish attempts at peace, and the fact that following it, Faisal wrote a favorable letter about Zionism. If Zionism had been inherently anti-Arab and hellbent on displacing Arabs, this agreement wouldn't have existed, and such a favorable view of Zionism by an Arab leader would not have been possible, not even temporarily.

Most importantly, at the moment when talk turned into practice, as the UN voted in 1947 on a suggestion to divide the Land of Israel roughly equally and create a Jewish state and an Arab one there, the Jews accepted it, the Arabs did not (the latter also rejected the 1937 Peel Commission, which suggested a similar divide, except the Arabs would get roughly 81% of the Land of Israel).

The displacement you mentioned cannot negate the native rights of Jews in Israel, because they weren't the ones who caused it. The displacement of the Land of Israel's Arabs is a result of the war the Arab leadership started, due to their rejection of what was essentially a two state solution.

If your anti-Zionist denial of Jewish rights cannot stand without blaming Jews for the decisions of the Arab leadership, it is both antisemitic, and racist, erasing the agency of Arabs.

3. Now let's go back for a second to your implication that one group displacing another from the land, where the latter has lived for centuries, negates the former's right to self determination. I'm putting aside for a second the centuries of discrimination and persecution which Jews had suffered in Israel, I'm putting aside the religious persecution (for example, how the Arabs succeeded in their campaign of harassment of Jews praying in Jerusalem, and in their demand that the British arrest Jews for blowing the shofar, praying out loud, or bringing Torah scrolls to the Western Wall, the second holiest place to Judaism, after the Temple Mount), I'm putting aside the repeated massacres of Jews, and I'll only talk about displacement, since that's what you mentioned. Because in 1929, Arab violence towards Jews in Israel resulted in the displacement and ethnic cleansing of Jewish communities from places like Hebron, where Jews have lived for THOUSANDS of years, and Gaza (to name just two of the communities harmed), almost 20 years before the State of Israel was established.

Somehow, I have a hunch that you won't come off anon to denounce the right of Palestinians to a state of their own based on this displacement and ethnic cleansing of ancient Jewish communities. Do I really need to explain why such a discriminatory application of this (very flawed) logic, in the name of anti-Zionism, is antisemitic?

But, you know. Congrats on at least not erasing the fact that Jews are native to Israel, two seconds before most of the world celebrates the birth of a Jewish man in Israel, more than 2,000 years ago.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[anomalyaly]

Not in Time

Submitted for a prompt on Discord. The theme was "The Dread."

TW: Violence, Major Character Death

AO3/Wattpad

No no no.

She stumbled through the dirt and snow, willing her feet to move faster. How stupid of her that she should forget her broom, and apparating was out of the question. The nausea was already pooling deep in her gut at the possibilities of what could happen if she didn’t get there quickly enough - she didn’t need to add magically bending her body in space and time to that list.

The catacomb outside of Feldcroft awaited. Sebastian had already gone on without her, insisting that he had figured out a way to cure Anne once and for all. The obsession had practically overcome him in recent days, but she had hoped, in vain, it wouldn’t lead him to do something this foolish.

Stupid, careless Sebastian!

The unwelcome sight of the Inferi that emerged from inside the catacomb sent a fresh wave of horror through her. Dark Magic, Ominis had said, and she hadn’t understood the true repercussions of it until she bore witness to it before her very eyes. Was this Sebastian’s doing, or were the Inferi attacking him as a result of his impulsive decisions?

If the latter was true, she would have to work quickly and get to him before anything happened.

She shuddered at the thought of the unsightly, undead creatures tearing the bright, carefree smile off of his freckled face. Her sun. He had become the light in her life since her arrival at Hogwarts until she watched that shining beacon dim day by day as the pressures of saving his twin and his trysts with Dark Magic slowly began to eat away at his lifeforce.

Faster, she battled her way through the catacomb, casting an array of fiery spells in every direction. Anywhere she turned, Inferi seemed to creep up on her from every crevice of the tomb. She didn’t care for spiders, but she would have practically begged for them if only to be saved by the zombified remains that tugged at her ankles anytime she took a step forward.

Finally, she arrived at an opening and looked on with horror as Sebastian was already engaged in a tragic duel. The Inferi had already taken over half of Feldcroft, which unfortunately attracted the attention of none other than former Auror Solomon Sallow.

“That relic was going to save Anne!” Sebastian cried as he hurled a barrage of spells towards his uncle.

“I had to destroy the relic!” Solomon was distressed - clearly his nephew had put up a good fight, being the talented duelist that he was, to wear down someone who’s former job was to literally duel. 

She had to step in and do something before someone got hurt, before it was too late, before either Sallow made a rash and impulsive decision as they so often seemed to do. 

“Sebastian, Solomon, stop!” She pleaded, helpless to do anything against them as the hordes of Inferi continued to overpower her. The spells she had casted were no longer keeping them at bay, the loss of the relic causing them to be unrelenting in their bloodthirsty behavior.

Solomon and Sebastian continued to engage in a lively duel that was quickly taking a turn for the worse.

“She cannot be healed, Sebastian! You must stop!”

Sebastian raised his wand, determined, cold. No trace of the boy she had met earlier that year could be seen, too immersed in his cause to understand any sense of reason around him. She couldn’t get to him quickly enough, pinned down by the growing number of Inferi that tore and scratched at her limbs.

“I won’t stop! I won’t let her suffer! Av-”

“Avada Kedavra!”

A piercing scream echoed in the catacomb that she came to realize was her own as the curse erupted from Solomon’s wand. 

She never thought she would live long enough to watch the light go out from Sebastian’s eyes - she supposed she had conjured up a reality where a boy that bright and full of energy could never die. Yet, she lay, covered by Inferi, her own body bruised and torn, as the Slytherin she had come to love crumpled to the ground in front of her, his eyes empty and lifeless.

Dead.

Unbridled rage coursed through her as Solomon slowly turned to her and offered a nonchalant shrug at the sight of his dead nephew. Aurors piled through the entrance of the catacomb, coming for her.

“Sorry.” The former Auror’s apology was disingenuous at best. “It had to be done.”

The Ministry Aurors cleared the Inferi off of her with ease, and she felt her body tense up as one of them cast an incarcerous charm on her.

She tried to scream, tried to tell them there had been a misunderstanding. They couldn’t take her to Azkaban, not when all she had wanted to do was help the boy who lay dead before her - her best friend or maybe more, she would never know.

Her deafening cries were cut off by a silencio charm as two of the Aurors who stood before Solomon regarded her coldly. The silent tears continued to roll down her face, blurring her vision and blinding her to the destruction of the catacomb around her.

“You made your choice,” Solomon said. “Now you’ll pay for your crimes.”

She let out another silent scream as she was hauled away by the Ministry Aurors, the memory of Sebastian’s still form the last thing she saw before she was given the Kiss of Death in Azkaban.

[savagewildnerness]

I'm seeing a lot of:

"But what about Nicolas..."

"But what about Akasha..."

In reference to Lestat and Louis... and the discussion seems to revolve around whether or not Lestat loves either of them and how it compares to his love of Louis. And it's phrased as if, if there is love for either of the former, it diminishes the latter... or as if there is some level of love that would diminish the latter. Or it needs to be proven that one love means more to Lestat or only one love is The One True Love. And necessarily the discussion ends up putting some character down or diminishing them in some way.

And, folks, we can have all the discussions you want to around this, if you want to. But without getting into any of these relationships at all in any way, I would just like to say:

Lestat has ALL of the love to give

These are immortal beings existing for literal ETERNITY: do you really think they can only deeply love ONE other being?

Lestat literally loves everything. If he met your shoe, 100% guarantee he could wax lyrical about what he loves about it

Lestat can love one being with HIS ENTIRE SELF and it doesn't mean that he cannot love another being with HIS ENTIRE SELF too... taking Romance out of it... don't you currently, or haven't you ever - even if just in a familial or friends way loved more than one being deeply?

OK, maybe I'll get into this more some time, but for now, just do not forget number 1!

And obviously Louis is Lestat’s heart! But he can also, and does also love other beings through eternity. And he loves them incredibly deeply. He wouldn’t die without them like with Louis! But I mean, listen to ourselves - how many humans have ever loved anyone in a way you’d die if they no longer existed? I just can’t take years of “I hate this character” & “how dare this relationship exist” & “how dare Lestat” & “Lestat doesn’t deserve Louis” or whatever all this talk will be. Or even “Lestat doesn’t really love *insert character*!” because in most (though not all) cases, he does!

ALL OF THE LOVE!

[sundogsandrainbows]

Hi, I'm sorry to write to you out of the blue, but Of Elves and Humans was the first DA longfic that got me hooked back in 2011 when I, as a dumb teen, happened to pick up DAO. Ever since then, the DA universe has been a constant fixation of mine and my admiration for you as a writer as well as someone who isn’t afraid to call out the franchise's flaws has never wavered. Now that Bioware decided to take a massive shit on everything pre-DAV and their oldest fans specifically, I'm really devastated and feel like a fool for having been so invested in DA and its lore for those past 13 years. It’s incredibly encouraging, however, to see you keep on keeping on. "So since they spat in my face like this I ignore this atrocity of a game even exists" is where I hope to be at soon, too. Thank you.

(First of all apologies for the late reply, I put it in my drafts when i was too tired to complete it, and then my adhd brain forgot it existed due to being distracted by new shinies 😂☠)

But aww omg i cannot believe i was the gateway drug into dragon age, or rather the old version of my story on FFN was. I am so very honored <3 And nonnie, I feel you. I am invested in DA as a series since DA:O's release in 2009, like I bought it on a whim for XBox because I liked Mass Effect 1 sm. So that is 15 yrs of my life i spent loving and discussing a thing while still being critical of the thing, but now i feel so very protective of the world, lore and its characters that "New Bioware" has decided to take a massive dump of shit on, and not only the games but the old fans I feel are treated with disdain too and do not matter to them any longer.

Long, subjective rant about current bioware aka the shambling corpse of its former self and talent incoming. Spoilers for Veilguard bc i don't give a fuck to avoid them :D You (general you, not you in particular dearest nonny <3) should use your time better than to play this shit anyhow 😂

It feels like calculated malice of new Bioware to apply the scorched earth tactics to offscreen destroy everything that old fans and fans of the other games in general held dear, and was supposed to suck out the enjoyment of DAO, DA2 and DAI. Like it is obvious they plan to create a sequel on DA's scorched bones, but jfc, you can do so story-wise without spitting everyone loving what old bioware has built in the face after dropkicking them. But to me that is part of the problem, since if i remember correctly and i wish i could find the bit... they praised Veilguard as "The best Dragon Age game ever", with the most interesting companions and best most improved combat system, comparing it to the other three games in a near smug fashion. There is marketing and there is putting the other games down to prop up your most favorite and only child mattering and they were definitely doing the latter. And don't get me started on the whole "Who is Zevran" debacle or we are gonna here all day.

Bottom line is new/current devs and writer do not give a shit about and very possibly have never played any other game than Inquisition, and you cannot tell me otherwise. And since a lot of devs/writer have left since the start of this project that would become this abysmal game, I also have the impression that there is a lot of underlying resentment toward what these former colleagues have created and so they piss on it in order to make it fully theirs now. Like dogs marking their territory, and well that did not work out, imo. At all.

Ever since they announced respecting our past choices by ignoring them (????) it was clear to me that I would not play Veilguard but just watch a playthrough and all spoilers and then move on. And everything i saw before release was shocking... like i was flabbergasted at how baaaad the dialogue was, which as a writer myself is super important to me in my story. There was no subtext, characters just blurt out everything they think and feel, like a lifeless doll you squeeze and words tumbling out and just as natural. It is stilted, awkward and 80% of it exists for info dump or info dumb rather as they keep repeating the same shit they just told you a few seconds ago as if you as the player are braindead. Here is a good example of what i mean.

Jfc, who edited this crap? There is so much superfluous dialogue that adds nothing to a scene but annoyance for the player and says nothing at all. Just pure senseless yapping in the most cringy way. Why was no one there to trim this nonsense as you should as a writer/editor? Hell, they really disregarded every simple and basic writing rule (everything is told never SHOWN for example especially in dialogue) which really made me question their competence in what they were doing and thus the quality of the upcoming game but i still held out hope for it to not be that bad.

Well shit, it was even worse. In all regards. Especially the writing that cringed this writer into a new dimension with its incoherent incompetence. Jfc. they got paid for that? I'm convinced the majority of fandom writer can do much better, even unpaid. Hell my cat just by walking over the keyboard can manage a better draft and script...💀

But I digress. That is a rant for another time. Point is, nonny, despite my defiant words, I struggled too for days after i got to know the full extent of Bioware's spiteful fuckery to even look at anything da related, in my case my Alistair/Mahariel longfic. I was really down for a few days, ngl. Then again, there is nothing better than spite fueling my creativity to prove "i can write better" soooo in the end and with the help of the much better first version of DA4 in the artbook, I was able to exorcise the demons and feverdream-mindfuck of mediocrity sold to me as a turd with gold-glitter that is this game.

I have successfully now rejected its existence, filled the void with the version that should have been from the artbook and vowed to give no fucks what bioware is doing or saying and infinitely more fucks when writing my own version of thedas and the version of DA4 that should be. REWRITES BBY hell yeah. So OEAH:R is just the beginning of a verse-wise rewrite. But if you need a pick me up, nonny, you are very much welcome to take a trip down memory lane to Dragon 9:30 and see how much this iteration of the story differs from my first one back in the days. Because in this house of mine, we grow and learn as writers, unlike bioware where writer ego reigns surpreme (oh boy and does it ever show in VG) aka eating their own turds and tell themselves it is the finest chocolate 💀

There is still a lot of good about DA out there, but we have to accept it does not come from Bioware any longer. Instead it came, comes and will come from the fans and creators of art and texts and words defying their bullshit with their love and respect for the world, its lore and characters. Also very unlike Bioware.

As we should <3