#Exploring [Title] Concepts

[graynide]

my fav dav pilkey angst that was never explored in their respective books lez gooooo

[pokimoko]

To Walk Over Your Grave - A Gravity Falls Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 7/7

Final Word Count: ~60K

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Bill Cipher & Ford Pines

Characters: Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket, Bill Cipher, Background & Cameo Characters

Summary:

This is not the world you think you know Though it starts in the same winter snow And ends in the same place as before: In a town of cryptids and folklore Where a man must set his mind aflame To bring an end to a god's cursed game That's the thing about branches of time However they diverge, they will rhyme But diverge they did, with one mistake One wrong number is all it can take To keep a man away from his twin And to change all of what might have been How cruel, how strange, that a change so small Could make so many dominoes fall But still, every choice must have its cost And in this world, he must pay with frost

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Cryogenics, Suspended Animation, Young Ford Pines, 80s Ford in 2012, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, POV Ford Pines, Ford Pines-centric, Psychological Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ford Pines Has PTSD, Memory Loss, Amnesia, Repressed Memories, Horror Elements, Mystery, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, (just…not quite in the canonical order of events), Haunting, Dreamscapes, Unreliable Narrator, Reconciliation, Memory Alteration, Grief/Mourning, Metafiction, Pre-Portal Incident Ford | Early 1980s Era Ford Pines, Implied Autistic Ford Pines, Alternate Universe - Ford Pines Never Went Through The Portal, and let's just say that changes a lot of things, Brotherly Love, Brotherly Angst, Wait if I'm haunting the narrative and you're haunting the narrative then who's driving?, TLDR: instead of portal adventures Ford gets frozen for 30 odd years and is still not having a good time, my boy is out here young dumb and broken

[sysig]

Idiot hours 💖 (Patreon)

[yn6k]

i dont think melt down is supposed to be a sad song but the way i teared up while listening to it anyways

[doublekanble]

ghost in your home was not supposed to end like that at all lol, wrestled with the idea of letting him have his cake and eat it too or shove it in his face a bit more and ended up with just letting him be

[saetoru]

anon that sent me the ask about the geto fics being similar—yes :,) i agree they were eerily similar :,) so i did message the person to handle it privately and they’ve agreed to take it down so thank you for bringing that to my attention :,)

​sorry to make a vague post ab this on dash but i wanted to address it to the anon so they were acknowledged

[doctor-iana]

Title

In today’s competitive online landscape, businesses operating in the United States market need effective keyword services to enhance their online visibility and drive business growth. Our comprehensive keyword research and analysis services are designed to help businesses identify valuable search terms that their potential customers use. By leveraging a data-driven approach, our professional…

[echoekhi]

I’m Declaring War Against “What If” Videos: Project Copy-Knight

What Are “What If” Videos?

These videos follow a common recipe: A narrator, given a fandom (usually anime ones like My Hero Academia and Naruto), explores an alternative timeline where something is different. Maybe the main character has extra powers, maybe a key plot point goes differently. They then go on and make up a whole new story, detailing the conflicts and romance between characters, much like an ordinary fanfic.

Except, they are fanfics. Actual fanfics, pulled off AO3, FFN and Wattpad, given a different title, with random thumbnail and background images added to them, narrated by computer text-to-speech synthesizers.

They are very easy to make: pick a fanfic, copy all the text into a text-to-speech generator, mix the resulting audio file with some generic art from the fandom as the background, give it a snappy title like “What if Deku had the Power of Ten Rings”, photoshop an attention-grabbing thumbnail, dump it onto YouTube and get thousands of views.

In fact, the process is so straightforward and requires so little effort, it’s pretty clear some of these channels have automated pipelines to pump these out en-masse. They don’t bother with asking the fic authors for permission. Sometimes they don’t even bother with putting the fic’s link in the description or crediting the author. These content-farms then monetise these videos, so they get a cut from YouTube’s ads.

In short, an industry has emerged from the systematic copyright theft of fanfiction, for profit.

Project Copy-Knight

Since the adversaries almost certainly have automated systems set up for this, the only realistic countermeasure is with another automated system. Identifying fanfics manually by listening to the videos and searching them up with tags is just too slow and impractical.

And so, I came up with a simple automated pipeline to identify the original authors of “What If” videos.

It would go download these videos, run speech recognition on it, search the text through a database full of AO3 fics, and identify which work it came from. After manual confirmation, the original authors will be notified that their works have been subject to copyright theft, and instructions provided on how to DMCA-strike the channel out of existence.

I built a prototype over the weekend, and it works surprisingly well:

On a randomly-selected YouTube channel (in this case Infinite Paradox Fanfic), the toolchain was able to identify the origin of half of the content. The raw output, after manual verification, turned out to be extremely accurate. The time taken to identify the source of a video was about 5 minutes, most of those were spent running Whisper, and the actual full-text-search query and Levenshtein analysis was less than 5 seconds.

The other videos probably came from fanfiction websites other than AO3, like fanfiction.net or Wattpad. As I do not have access to archives of those websites, I cannot identify the other ones, but they are almost certainly not original.

Armed with this fantastic proof-of-concept, I’m officially declaring war against “What If” videos. The mission statement of Project Copy-Knight will be the elimination of “What If” videos based on the theft of AO3 content on YouTube.

I Need Your Help

I am acutely aware that I cannot accomplish this on my own. There are many moving parts in this system that simply cannot be completely automated – like the selection of YouTube channels to feed into the toolchain, the manual verification step to prevent false-positives being sent to authors, the reaching-out to authors who have comments disabled, etc, etc.

So, if you are interested in helping to defend fanworks, or just want to have a chat or ask about the technical details of the toolchain, please consider joining my Discord server. I could really use your help.

------

See full blog article and acknowledgements here: https://echoekhi.com/2023/11/25/project-copy-knight/

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

 Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[lovscb97]

— STEP OUT ! ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆

❛ 八命合一心 ; eight lives united as one heart ❜

about: welcome to step out! this is an ot8 stray kids series containing solo fics for all members based off of their respective songs from the newest album "合". here, you'll be able to choose and explore from a variety of themes and universes, and each world is handcrafted to revolve around one out of the eight, whether the inspiration for it came from the lyrics, melody, concept or more. though the stories are not directly connected with one another, each of them has its own flair. with any hope, they'll be to your liking, so do stick around to find out & enjoy your stay!

status: ONGOING.

pairing(s): ot8!stray kids x fem!reader

disclaimer: all fics contain MATURE content along with smut which is not appropriate for minors. viewer discretion is advised & you are the only one responsible for the content you consume.

add. notes: hello n welcome 2 lovscb97 first series debut ... this idea came to me on a whim when i was listening to seungmin solo on a walk n i was like "yk what would be cool ? ot8 fics based off their solo songs. Yea." n boom! step out was born. special thanks to jamsie n nico for their help n i hope u guys enjoy it loads!!! plz mind the tags for each specific fic before reading (more detailed ones will come with each chapter so as to not spoil much about the stories) but other than that have a great time n lmk what u think if u wish <3 details for specific fics are under the cut btw!

last updated: 20/01/2025.

TAGLIST: OPEN!

. . .

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 001.

READ HERE.

title: railway

featuring: best friend's ex!bangchan x fem!reader

word count: 7.85k

tags: angst, forbidden romance, toxic relationship, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, etc

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 002.

READ HERE.

title: youth

featuring: camp counsellor!lee minho x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: strangers to ???, some angst, summer fling, found family, protected sex, bittersweet, etc

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 003.

READ HERE.

title: ultra

featuring: roommate!bff!seo changbin x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: roommates to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, heavy tension, dry humping, rough sex, unprotected sex, etc

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 004.

READ HERE.

title: so good

featuring: tour guide!hwang hyunjin x singer!fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: black cat x golden retriever, family trauma, confessions, protected sex, angst, open ending, etc

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 005.

READ HERE.

title: hold my hand

featuring: guardian angel!han jisung x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: 'she fell first but he fell harder' trope, kissing, sweet lovemaking, some religious undertones, character death, etc

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 006.

READ HERE.

title: unfair

featuring: beast!lee felix x princess!fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: royalty au, premodern timeline, shapeshifting, fairytale-esque romance, monster-fucking, breeding kink, etc

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 007.

READ HERE.

title: as we are

featuring: baseball player!kim seungmin x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: childhood best friends to lovers, first love, sports injury, grief, healing, slowburn, protected sex, etc

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 008.

READ HERE.

title: hallucination

featuring: church boy!yang jeongin x delinquent!fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: good boy x bad girl, religious guilt, blasphemy, unprotected sex, corruption kink, etc

. . .

© all rights reserved to @/lovscb97, do not plagiarise, translate, re-upload, etc

[the-impulse-to-love]

i still can't get over the fact how the new album is even in arcadia.

like. take me back to eden, and now even in arcadia.

take me back to eden, which is a paradise that was inhabited in and later lost due to the sin of eating the forbidden fruit.

even in arcadia, which is an idyllic paradise of a real region in greece. a concept that was romanticized and explored during the renaissance that is said to be unobtainable and lost.

and the phrase "even in" -- referring to the phrase "et in arcadia ego," roughly meaning "even in arcadia, there i am." a phrase used as a title to painter nicolas poussin's painting (left) depicting three shepherds and a woman. yet, this work was inspired by a work of the same name done by artist guercino (right), done about a decade before. and his work has themes of memento mori, a reminder that death is always There, with the image of a skull reinforcing the idea of the title.

all just to say...

vessel wants to be taken back to eden -- back to a way when things were idyllic and perfect. and yet, if he obtains this, if he somehow gets to arcadia, he's met with the harsh reality that his paradise is unobtainable and lost. "i" -- whether that be sleep, death, or some other figure -- they are still there in what appears to be paradise, even if vessel wants to escape from them...

[nina-ya]

OK we've seen a lotta romantic stuff BUT... what about something more casual? Got any fwb/fuckbuddies hcs for any of Luffy/Law/Kid/Zoro?

Friends With Benefits Headcanons with Luffy, Zoro, Law and Kid

Synopsis: just like the title says! Pairing: Luffy x reader, Zoro x reader, Law x reader, Kid x reader (separately) CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, vague mention of feelings in laws, besides that just fwb stuffs

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It started with Luffy being as blunt as ever, dropping his casual indifference about sex into a conversation that left you floored. “It’s not that different, right? Just feels like using your hand,” he said with a shrug as if the entire concept was nothing more than a passing thought. You couldn’t stop the sigh that left your lips. “Oh, you have no idea,” you murmured, already scheming. 

The first encounter happened late at night in the empty kitchen when you finally decided to prove your point. His curiosity got the better of him as you knelt between his legs, tugging down his shorts slowly. “Just let me show you,” you murmured, your voice full of promise. The moment your fingers wrapped around his cock, his entire body tensed, a sharp intake of breath the only sound before his lips parted in an unrestrained groan. “Shit,” he hissed, his hips jerking involuntarily as you began to stroke him.

And when your mouth replaced your hand, the realization hit him like a freight train. The wet heat of your tongue gliding along his shaft, the way your lips sealed around him, sucking with the right amount of pressure- it had his head tipped back, his eyes squeezing shut, and a growl ripping from his throat. “What the hell– oh fuck, that’s–” Words failed him, his hands flying to your hair, gripping tight as he lost himself in the sensation. The sheer desperation in his moans was intoxicating, loud and shameless as if he didn’t care if he woke up the entire crew. 

By the time you let him fuck you for the first time, Luffy was insatiable. He’d been begging for it for days, his cock hard and throbbing in his shorts every time he so much as looked at you. “Come on, please,” he panted, his hands already slipping under your shirt, grabbing greedily at your skin. “I wanna know what it feels like. I need to.” His voice was raw and desperate, as if his entire world hinged on you giving in

The moment he pushed inside you, an almost feral sound tore from his throat. “So warm, so wet, so…” he groaned, his hips snapping forward instinctively as he buried himself to the hilt. He didn’t even try to take it slow; he couldn’t if he wanted to. The way your hole clenched around him, wet and hot and perfect, drove him absolutely wild. His pace was frantic and erratic, every thrust hitting deep as his moans grew louder, filthier, until you had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep the entire ship from hearing. He didn’t care, though. If anything, it spurred him on, his teeth grazing your palm as he muffled a growled, “Fuck, you feel so good.” 

After that, Luffy was a man obsessed. He wanted to fuck you every chance we got– in the kitchen, in the crows' nest, on the head of the Sunny, wherever he could get you alone for more than five seconds. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide it. His neck was littered with your bite marks, his chest and back decorated with scratches that he proudly showed off, oblivious to the crew's exasperated stares. 

With every encounter, his insatiable curiosity drove him to try anything and everything. “Can we do it upside down?” he once asked, completely serious, his head tilted as he waited for an answer. He wanted to explore every inch of you, every reaction he could wring out of you, and he was shameless about it. The moment he found something that made you moan even just a little louder, shudder harder, he’d latch onto it, repeating until you were trembling, begging for more.

It didn’t take long for this fuck buddy relationship to leave him with an insatiable appetite. He grew bold enough to grab you whenever and wherever the urge struck. Leaning over the railing, half-asleep in a hammock, hell, he once tried in the kitchen while Sanji’s back was turned. 

It didn’t matter if the crew gave him shit for the marks littering his skin or the way he’d disappear with you for hours at a time. Luffy wasn’t one to hide what he wanted, and what he wanted was sex with you, and you wouldn’t trade this for anything else. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The crow’s nest was where it all began. You were silently watching Zoro work out until just watching wasn’t enough. “C’mon, how hard could it be?” you quipped, laughing at the way his muscles trained as he hefted one of his absurdly heavy weights. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” he challenged, dragging you into his workout routine with a predatory glint in his eye. 

You took the challenge, standing beside him as you began mimicking his movements, your body quickly heating up under the strain. What you didn’t notice was how Zoro’s gaze raked over the sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your chest rose and fell, and the soft, involuntary noises you made when you pushed yourself a little too hard. 

He didn’t even realize he was staring until you caught him, your breathless laugh snapping him out of whatever daze he’d fallen into. “What? Didn’t think I had it in me?” you asked, voice light and playful. Zoro didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hands grabbing your waist as his mouth crashed into yours with a force that stole your breath. 

It was raw, messy, and absolutely unplanned. He had you bent over one of the training benches, your hands braced against it as he pounded into you from behind, his low grunts and the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small space. 

Afterward, Zoro was uncharacteristically quiet. He avoided your gaze as you got dressed, his confidence replaced with a rare hint of awkwardness. You both figured that was the end of it, a one-time lapse in judgment. 

But then it happened again. And again. 

The second time, he didn’t even try to play coy. The moment you walked into the crow's nest, he had you against the wall, his mouth on yours, and his hands already slipping beneath your shirt. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he would admit gruffly, lips brushing against your ear before dragging you to the floor. 

It became your thing– a dirty, addictive routine that neither of you bothered to question. Zoro would have you on your knees, your mouth working over him as he cursed and growled, his finger tangling into your hair as he fucked into your throat. Or he’d have you bent over various equipment, his pace merciless, leaving you shaking and spent while he smirked down at you like the smug bastard he is. 

By the time you’d found yourself tangled in Zoro’s limbs for the fifth or sixth time– not that you were counting– you’d all but accepted that no one else would compare. He was a man of focus and discipline in every aspect of life, and that extended to the way he fucked. There was no half-measure, no hesitation. Every thrust, every touch, every kiss was designed to leave you breathless, shaking, and so completely ruined that the mere idea of someone else trying felt laughable. 

Zoro was a fast learner. What started off as clumsy, heated desperation quickly evolved into him paying attention to everything. When your body tensed, the sounds you made, the way you trembled under his touch. He made sure to take mental note of that for the next time you were with him. 

The man had stamina for days, and his endurance translated perfectly into this. It was never just a one-and-done for him- both of you came undone over and over again until you were overstimulated, tears pricking your eyes as you gasped for breath. “Come on,” he’d taunt as his fingers delved between your legs, spreading you open for him again. “You can take it. Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Cleanup was an afterthought at best. Zoro never stuck around to cuddle or chat, he wasn't the biggest fan of pillow talk. He’d pull his pants back on, toss a towel at you, and call it a day as he resumed his previous activities. 

It wasn’t romantic, but it was addictively good. The way he fills you, the way he growls your name, the way he pushes you to your limits and beyond until your body nearly gives out. Zoro wasn’t the type to hold back, and you weren’t about to complain, not when he left you a shaking, satisfied mess every single time.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It started off innocently enough– or at least that's the lie you tell yourself every time you feel Law's hands on your body, coaxing sounds from you that would make the devil blush. It had been late at night, the two of you in his quarters with the moonlight streaming in through the window. He was hunched over his desk looking over case studies, his jaw tight with sections, dark circles just a bit more prominent than usual.

You murmured a simple, “You should take a break,” as you watched him rub an exhausted hand over his face. Of course, he snorted in response, lips pulled into a thin, humorless line as he muttered something about not needing a break.

You don’t quite remember how it escalated, but one moment you were standing there, and the next, his fingers were curling around your wrist, pulling you to him. His lips crashed against yours with an intense hunger, teeth scraping your bottom lip as his hands roamed, tugging at your clothes. Fabrics hit the floor in a frenzied blur, and before you could process the shift, the air was filled with your moans and the sinful sound of skin against skin.

Law treats the whole thing like an arrangement, nothing more than a mutual understanding- a transactional escape from the grind of life as a pirate. There’s no romance, no sweet nothings whispered in the dark. Just the bruising press of his body against yours, the deep growl of his voice commanding you to spread your legs wider or hold still while he takes what he needs.

His kisses are demanding– teeth biting at your lips, tongue delving into your mouth, and leaving you gasping for air. His inked fingertips from whatever part of you they can reach– your thighs, your neck, the curve of your waist– digging into you and leaving their mark behind.

Law pays attention to every gasp, every shiver, every time your voice cracks when you beg him for more. He files it all away, exploiting your weaknesses until you’re writing beneath him, your nails clawing streaks of red down his back as you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, desperate not to let anyone hear the depravity unfolding behind doors.

The infirmary quickly became your playground. It was practical, as no one thought twice about seeing you leave together– a crew member seeking the doctor out for medical attention, they’d assume. But the truth was far filthier. 

Late nights became your undoing, the two of you barely remembering to lock the door before he had you pinned to the nearest surface. The cold metal of an examination table was a constant companion, pressing into your bare skin as he shoved your panties down your legs and into his pocket. He’d spread you open slowly, inked fingers teasing over slick folds before his mouth descended, devouring you like a man starved, as if your pleasure was the only thing that could satisfy him in that moment.

“Stay quiet,” he’d growl against your ear, the head of his cock dragging against your entrance before slamming into you, stealing whatever defiance you might’ve had. His voice was a hypnotic blend of filth and control, whispering all the things he was going to do to you, each word leaving your head spinning and your body arching against him as he fucks you toward your first orgasm of the night. 

You’d always leave the infirmary looking wrecked– hair tousled, lips swollen, legs wobbly as you tried, and failed, to regain some semblance of composure. Law, of course, looked immaculate; no one could even tell that he was balls deep inside of you just moments prior, though that smugness in his expression is always there to remind you just how thoroughly he’d ruined you.

And if you looked closely, you’d start to notice the subtle cracks in the walls he’d built around himself. Moments where this simple exchange of pleasure felt like something more. Like the time his breath hitched, and his voice came low and rough as he murmured, “You’re too good at this.” His forehead pressed against yours, honeyed eyes boring into yours in a way that made your stomach flip, as he continued with, “Too good at making me forget everything else.” 

You could pretend it didn’t matter, that it was just an offhand comment in the heat of the moment. But other signs were there if you dared to look. The way his hands lingered, mapping your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. The way his fingers didn’t just grip but caressed, a softness in his touch that hadn’t been there before. The way he held you close afterward, his chest rising and falling against yours as if he was reluctant to let go.

You could tell yourself not to overthink it. You could pretend the shift in him didn’t make your chest ache with confusion. But how could you ignore the way he slowed down, how he rolled his hips into you in a way that wasn’t just about chasing release, but about making you feel every damn inch of him? His forehead pressed into yours, his lips brushing over your jaw, and there it was– your name, murmured like a prayer on the edge of a moan.

His kisses grew less frantic, less possessive- more lingering, savoring, as if he were trying to communicate something he couldn’t quite put into words. His voice softened when he guided you through the pleasure, no longer barking commands at you, but soothing encouragements, spoken with a tenderness that left you reeling. He wasn’t just fucking you anymore. He was making love to you in every way but name, the shift so slow and gradual that it felt like you’d accidentally stumbled into it. 

You could ignore the way he was treating you, the way his actions betrayed the very ideal of casual detachment. You could let yourself believe this was just temporary, destined to burn out the way all things do.

And you had a choice to make. You could stay on this path, let him end it when the time came, and pick up the pieces of yourself when it was over. Or you could give in– to him, to this- and let it all become something far messier, far scarier, but infinitely more real. You could let the walls come crashing down and see where it led, knowing full well there might be no going back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

One too many drinks at a rowdy tavern in some seedy little port town started this relationship. It was the kind of place that smelled of spilled ale and bad decisions. You and Kid were seated side by side, tipsy from cheap booze and a long week that had worn down the two of you. Half-hearted threats and teasing insults transitioned into touches that lingered way too long. 

When his large hand landed on your thigh under the table, squeezing firmly with no shame, no subtly, you leaned into it, your fingers trailing up his arm as you met his challenge with one of your own. “You talk a big game,” you murmured, your voice low and taunting. “Think you can back it up?”

And then came the bathroom. Not the most romantic spot for a first time, the broken blinking lights and the smell of piss certainly added to the ambiance, but neither of you gave a damn. He locked the door with a click, spun you around, and had your face pressed against the cold wall in an instant. 

Clothes barely came off; his hands were too impatient for that. He yanked your pants down just enough to get where he needed, his fingers rough and greedy as they spread you open. The stretch when he finally shoved inside was brutal, the angle unforgiving, and he groaned like a man who’d just found his favorite kind of trouble as he shoved you harder against the wall with every thrust.

By the time he was done, your legs felt like jelly, and the mirrors were fogged up from the heat of it all. Kid looked at you like he wanted to go another round right there, a cocky grin plastered on his face as he zipped up his pants. “You clean up nice,” he said with a smirk, slapping your ass as he turned to leave. 

That set the tone for every time after. No strings attached, no romance, just raw, shameless fucking whenever the need hit. It was about the release, about indulging in the kind of pleasure that left bruises and scratch marks behind.

One of his favorite things was seeing you struggle to keep quiet when he was fucking you in the dead of the night, in a place where anyone could walk in. The way your body would tense, trying to hold in your noises, but failing miserably as his cock hit that one spot inside of you that had you wailing out. He’d of course, laugh at you, a taunting sound that made your stomach flip. “Do you want everyone to hear us?” as for him, he didn’t particularly care if the whole damn world heard.

The best part was that there was no pressure. You could still flirt, still enjoy the random hookups with others on the ship or wherever you went. There was freedom in it. But more often than not, you found yourself seeking him out. He was convenient. He knew exactly what to do to make you feel good, how to touch you without overdoing it. And honestly, his body was just the right fit for yours every damn time. 

You swear that filthy mouth of his could single-handedly unravel you. He’d growl obvious comments like “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” as he dragged his thick fingers through your slick before shoving them into you saying some shit like, “You like being use like this, dont you? You’re made for this.” 

The crew knew; of course, they did. It was impossible not to, with how loud you sometimes would get or the way you left his quarters a stumbling mess with marks blooming across your skin. If anyone dared to stare too long or judge, he would bark at them to mind their own business.

This arrangement works because neither of you tried to make it more than just sex. There was never any pressure, no awkward conversations after he had just busted inside of you, just a shared understanding that you would be there to scratch each other's itch without hesitation. You could, of course, try to make it into something more if you so desired, but you don’t ever have to if you don’t want to, which is such a beautiful thing in all honesty. What you have with him is chaotic, messy, and thrilling, and that was more than enough for both of you. 

[imaroyalmess]

An Apprentice’s (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments

based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)

Wc: 2.1k

The datapad—an older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framing—is the first thing Orion Pax’s optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).

Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. It’s strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his arms—he’s hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision that’ll take some getting used to.

He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Prima’s instructions and not confuse himself.

Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.

~

Hello newbie!!!

Congratulations to you and your new position! There’s so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then you’ll wanna keep reading, little mech!

It’s most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though that’s good to know!), I’m talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.

Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!

DO: Wear your House garment at all times! I’ve been told it’s respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprentice’s special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.

~

D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. It’s structure—it’s security. He can’t afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isn’t sure.

“Orion Pax,” D-16 hisses, “you idiot, there’s no way—”

Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. “Why did you drag me into this?”

Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. “I need you to keep watch for me, ‘kay? It’s a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldn’t fit.”

D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16’s vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. “Wh–Pax, what are you doing?!”

“I told you.” Orion rolls his optics. “Barely enough room in there and I can’t risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.”

He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. “No? I…you want me to—”

“It’s just my garment,” Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I don’t have time to argue. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?”

Just my garment. If Orion’s antics don’t get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, he’s correct about one thing, and it’s that their time is running out.

D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, “Go. Before they spot us.”

Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.

~

DON’T: touch another apprentice’s attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Don’t kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That has…intimate implications I won’t discuss here.

~

Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it weren’t for the ferocity that overtakes D-16’s faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orion’s systems remind him to function as he watches—his friend is a vision under his Prime’s tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.

Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orion’s audials are unable to pick up what’s said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.

“D!” Orion calls. His friend pads over to what’s becoming Orion’s usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.

“You been waiting long?” D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.

Orion shakes his helm. A white lie—he’s been there longer than he should’ve but it’s not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. “What were you learning today?”

D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listens—mostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16’s broad servos capture Orion’s attention as they move in small motions.

An idea pops into his processor. “Why don’t you show me?”

A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, “It’ll look stupid without an opponent.”

Orion hops over the half-wall that’s been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. “I’m right here though.”

“No,” D-16 said immediately. “It’s not safe.”

“C’mon, D,” Orion teases. “I trust you.”

D-16 cycles his optics and Orion’s lopsided grin grows. “It’s not about that. You don’t know what you’re doing and even if it’s not real, I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Orion states, full of confidence.

“I could,” D-16 argues. “Then Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprentice—”

Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. “I know what you’re doing, Pax. It’s not going to work.”

“Is it not?” Orion teases as he keeps in D-16’s blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16’s House garment a good tug.

“Pax,” D-16 chastises. Yes, it’s a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16’s calmness dissipates.

Orion manages to tug at D-16’s garment twice more before D-16’s arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orion’s servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16’s optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friend’s weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.

D-16 growls, “Orion.” And honestly? Orion isn’t sure what’s going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets he’d been admiring earlier.

D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, “hey!”

But D-16 isn’t listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orion’s intake fluid darkened cloth’s already deep purple. D-16’s expression is horrified.

“Oh scrap, D.” Orion scrambles to his pedes. “It should go away, right? I’ve never—D! Where are you going? Wait!”

Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runs—no, sprints—out of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what he’d done wrong.

~

DO: keep your garment clean! It’s polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you don’t know is that leaving a mark on another apprentice’s garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, that’s a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, you’re effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift? 

~

“I’m sorry, D.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know but I made you upset, didn’t I?”

“...no. You didn’t.”

~

DON’T: wear another House’s garment!!! Unless you’re ready to be conjunxes. And I’m serious! It’s saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then don’t do this.

(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, don’t.)

~

What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. He’s read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16’s garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.

He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, who’s dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. “Do you think purple would suit me?”

“Hm?”

Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. “Your House garment, silly. How does it look?”

“Fine,” D-16 says.

“Just fine?” Orion complains. “You’re the meanest friend ever. You won’t even let me try?”

D-16 resettles his helm. “Not mean. ‘M honest.”

Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. “Your honesty is mean.”

“Would you prefer a more elaborate answer?”

“Not anymore,” Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles he’s made. 

~

Congrats!!! Now you’re fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!

In case you didn’t read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. You’re lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, you’ll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)

~

D-16 might cease to function—if he hasn’t already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16’s optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.

That thing isn’t supposed to exist—not physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primus’ glory does Orion have it?!

“D?” Orion cuts through his panic.

“Have you…” D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. “Have you read it?”

Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. “Read what?”

A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didn’t consciously give the command for it to do so. “That.”

“Oh that?” Orion ambles over to the offending object. “It was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?”

D-16’s joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. “You don’t need it though, do you?”

Please say no, D-16’s processor screams.

Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. “No, I guess not…did you need it? You can take it, if you do.”

And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warm—he doesn’t wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)

“Thanks,” D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie.

Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orion’s prying optics. It’s hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.

~~~

A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!

[hypertechnica]

exploring unexplained darkner lore: WHEN does a darkner gain consciousness, exactly?

alternate title: WOODY THEORY IS ACTUALLY RELEVANT BUT NOT IN THE WAY WE THOUGHT??? MAYBE???

there are so many unanswered questions regarding how darkners and dark worlds “work” and i’m really fascinated by the worldbuilding put out so far - but we still don’t really know what the deal is, not really.

the way ralsei explains dark worlds in chapter 3 basically tells us what we already know, but explicitly - darkners are objects in the light world. they’re not “real” and derive “purpose” from being needed by lightners (which is a whole can of worms.)

as evidenced by lancer’s “all gone!” reaction to susie asking where his dark world went in chapter 2, sealing dark fountains DOES effectively destroy the world, but not necessarily the people inside it (if you decide to recruit them.) there’s an obvious ethical dilemma here that’s been on people’s minds since chapter 1 came out. to me, the biggest question is:

does the dark world always exist, inaccessible to lightners, or is it physically created and destroyed on the same day? are the fountains portals or creators?

the repeated phrase “the unending pillar of darkness that gives my body form” (ralsei’s unused manual)/“the dark fountain that gives the world form” (tv time credits) (there might be more instances im forgetting idk) does imply the latter, as well as the descriptions of “creating fountains” “making dark worlds” as opposed to, say, “opening doors” to them.

but the concept of time here is… weird. darkners consistently refer to the past, every dark world we enter has history, darkners even speak of people from other dark worlds! and the histories always parallel what happened to their corresponding object and space in the light world. chaos king is bitter and hates lightners because they abandoned him and everyone else - because they’re toys left in an abandoned classroom. cyber city doesn’t have this problem because they’re situated in a computer library regularly used by lightners, but queen is struggling with the internet outage. kris’ living room is… a child of divorce. and chapter 4? man i don’t even know. the darkners in the church are so cryptic i haven’t been able to analyse it properly.

so if darkners remember their lives as objects, were they always alive, or were they created by the fountains and “implanted” with those memories? are they even “real” memories?

chapter 3 raises the most questions regarding this. tenna KNOWS kris, watched them grow up. ramb comments on how kris and their friends used to play make believe WITH THE SAME OBJECTS we know now - im failing to remember the line but i know it mentioned how queen and king were at war! and in chapter 4 it’s revealed that dark worlds are warped by the mind that creates them. this raises so many questions - are all objects in the light world sentient and able to communicate with each other, just invisible to lightners? or are objects “summoned” into consciousness with memories of their lives automatically created for them?

and that made me fucking realize. ARE DARKNERS LIKE THE TOYS IN FUCKING TOY STORY???? THINK ABOUT IT. TGINK ANBOUT IT

tenna’s past with spamton is a huge indicator of this - they were business partners, right? and they had a falling out because of a mutual misunderstanding involving the mysterious person calling spamton and making him a Big Shot. well, how the hell did spamton know tenna, if they’re from different dark worlds?

in what i’m fairly certain is game tenna’s last piece of dialogue in the sword route, he says “they never should have brought that computer home…”

spamton knows tenna and mike before tenna’s dark world is created. they communicated and had a relationship before ANY of the dark worlds were created if we take “1997” as the literal year of spamton being a big shot. all because the dreemurs brought a computer home, allowing tenna to meet spamton… now, you could argue that this is because the prophecy is controlling everything, but we already see ways in which the prophecy has been contradicted, so i’m uncertain if the prophecy has THAT strong of a hold on the world. (if that ages bad in the next ten years womp womp)

AND. although we don’t know if this is every object or just objects that have previously been animated via fountains, but tenna shows signs of sentience even in the light world!!! y’all know the line of dialogue with mettaton where he plays a “salacious music video”!!!! look!!!!! THE OBJECTS ARE SENTIENT ITS FUCKING TOY STORY

DARKNERS EITHER LITERALLY LIVE AS SENTIENT OBJECTS (LIKE TOY STORY, THE BRAVE LITTLE TOASTER, ETC) OR IN A MORE ETHEREAL SENSE LIVE ON A SEPARATE PLANE OF EXISTENCE AS DARKNERS BUT CAN ONLY DIRECTLY INTERACT W LIGHTNERS WHEN A FOUNTAIN GIVES THEM ANTHROPOMORPHIC FORM

WAITER! MORE WOODY THEORY PLEASE gets shot 57 times

[goooofy-goooober1121]

JJK Men - Love or Be Loved?

In which we explore whether the JJK men prefer loving or being loved!

Ask box is open! Please feel free to request!

Feat. Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Kamo Choso, Fushiguro Toji, and Ryomen Sukuna!

Nanami Kento

Mr. Nanami "Husband Material" Kento

Take one look at this man and tell me he wouldn't move heaven and earth for his S/O!

I think he has seen so much pain in the world through his work as a sorcerer and as an office worker at a suspicious company

He always puts others ahead of himself, we can see it a lot through his interactions with Yuji where he simply does not let Yuji handle things himself because Yuji is literally just a kid

(Nanami is the only one with common sense btw. Like WHYYYY ARE WE SENDING TEENAGERS TO FIGHT LITERAL NIGHTMARE MONSTERS.)

I think that his sense of responsibility plays a big part in him preferring to be on the giving end of all the loving

"I'm responsible for you now" is his love language if that makes sense.

He expresses his care for others by looking after them!

Gojo Satoru

Both

Are you kidding?

Gojo "Loverboy" Satoru

Gojo grew up obviously very neglected and objectified.

Even in modern Jujutsu society, people saw him as nothing more than a weapon!!!

I think that he would love to love on his S/O relentlessly

It gets kinda embarrassing sometimes

Would unironically do that one scene from Descendants where the prince confesses his undying love for Mal in the most public, musical, fantastical, sparkly way

But he means it in the best possible way <3

HOWEVER

it does things to him to be loved genuinely and wholly for him, not for his titles or powers

It would definitely be a healing experience for him

Because then suddenly he feels like a part of him that was missing is returned

So yeah Gojo would go either way. Mutually assured loving all around

Geto Suguru

Being Loved

Wow you're telling me the mass murderer cult leader wants adoration? No shit

But I digress

Apart from the glaringly obvious reasons, he, like Nanami, has seen the harsh realities of the world through the eyes of a sorcerer

However as we have most certainly observed this man has a power trip problem

If I hear him say "monkeys" one more time I'm reporting him for a hate crime

I think at his core Geto craves recognition and appreciation for all the sacrifices he and his loved ones have made for others

So he most certainly enjoys being loved on by his S/O more than anything else

Can we put him in therapy? Maybe enroll him in a DEI course? Please?

Kamo Choso

Ooooooooh this is hard

Because on one hand:

It is quite literally in Choso's nature to love

We see it with his brothers and how deeply he cares

Therefore it would make sense that he would show lots of love to his S/O!!!

BUT

I think that once Choso gets a taste of being loved on, he'll start following his S/O with big sad eyes until he gets a kiss or a hug or a touch on the shoulder

Choso is still learning the intricacies of being human and the concept of being cared for in such a way might really impact him

So I come to the conclusion that Choso prefers loving his S/O because it's what comes most naturally (and he's a big sweetheart) (ignore all the destruction he caused in Shibuya he's a changed man) but also loved to be loved on

He's similar to Gojo in this way but what sets them apart is that while Gojo is much more upfront about wanting affection, Choso will silently follow his S/O around like a shadow with big sad eyes until they notice what he needs

Fushiguro Toji

Ironically? I think he likes to do the loving

Like don't get me wrong

He's broke

He's an assassin

He has a gambling problem

(isn't he dreamy?)

But he comes off to me as someone who prefers to be the one showing love

Partially because he's not quite sure how to act when he's being loved on

But I think he loves from a distance. He doesn't want his loved ones to be hurt or subjected to the more intense bits of his work

Even if that distant loving ultimately drives them away from him

He would prefer it like that than putting anyone he loves in harm's way

Ryomen Sukuna

"I understand love, and I say to you love is worthless." -Sukuna Ryomen

Okay pack it up post is over please like comment and reblog

Okay well hypothetically...

He would very much prefer to be the one receiving all the love

Bro terrorized Heian Era Japan and demanded sacrifices as if he were a god

No way he expects anything less than unshakeable devotion and admiration from his S/O

Bro is a walking Red Flag and he likes his lovers colorblind

[felassan]

The Next Dragon Age Has a New Title

by Author - BioWare - Posted on June 6, 2024

"Join us on Tuesday, June 11 for the Official Gameplay Reveal Hi everyone, Summer is nearly upon us, and as promised, we’re ready to provide an update on our big reveal. We’d like to invite the world to join us on Tuesday, June 11, for the official first look at gameplay for the next Dragon Age! After Dragon Age: Inquisition launched, the studio was given an incredible opportunity to explore, test, and validate a variety of gameplay concepts as we worked to determine what the next Dragon Age could look like. We brought everything to the table which, yes, even included a multiplayer concept. The time we spent experimenting and iterating gradually taught us a lot. This work, and the amazing support from EA, helped us re-focus on creating an incredible single player game, with all the choices, characters and world building you’d expect from us. At BioWare, we create worlds of adventure, conflict and companionship, where you’re at the center of it all. As fans of our franchise know, every Dragon Age game has delivered a new standalone story. Set in the world of Thedas, these tales explore epic locales and threats, always thrusting you into a new conflict. Each game also introduces a new lead hero – The Warden, Hawke, The Inquisitor – that you can call your own. You can expect all that, and more, with the new game. And of course, much like your unique hero, it wouldn’t be a Dragon Age game without an amazing cast of companions – right?  Each of the seven unique characters that make up your companions will have deep and compelling storylines where the decisions you make will impact your relationships with them – as well as their lives. You’ll unite this team of unforgettable heroes as you take on a terrifying new threat unleashed on the world. Naturally, the Dread Wolf still has an important part in this tale, but you and your companions – not your enemies – are the heart of this new experience. So, to capture what this game is all about, we changed the name as the original title didn’t show just how strongly we feel about our new heroes, their stories and how you’ll need to bring them together to save all of Thedas. We proudly introduce to you Dragon Age™: The Veilguard.

We know you’ve been waiting a long time for this reveal and we’re so ready to show you what we’ve been up to. We’ll see you on Tuesday, June 11th at 8:00am PT at the Dragon Age YouTube channel with over 15 minutes of gameplay from the opening moments of the game that has you jumping back into Thedas on your new adventure. This moment means so much to everyone at BioWare, and we wouldn’t be here without you. We’re ready to have some fun, so join the chat early…we’ve got a few special surprises for you.  Thank you for all your support. See you soon, Gary McKay Executive Producer, Dragon Age, and General Manager, BioWare"

[source]