#inspired cap selection

[nanamiskentos]

SCORCHED EARTH ✤ (五条 悟, gojo satoru)

── NO GOD, THE ONLY MAN IN THE SKY IS ME. Gojo Satoru is the nation's treasure, and its most dangerous asset. In a world where Supes are lauded as celebrities and heroes, there's only a select few that sees superheroes for what they really are ─ cogs in the propaganda machine, corrupt and lecherous. You're determined to hunt down the golden boy that leads them, to find Gojo Satoru and bring him down. But he's just as obsessed with you, and he gets to you first.

➤ 𝐉𝐉𝐊, gojo satoru & afab!reader, wc ─ 5k

cw ─ MDNI. enemies to lovers, THE BOYS AU, love/hate sex, HOMELANDER GOJO 😁, superhero au, cat & mouse dynamics, vigilante!reader, evil!gojo to some extent, mentions of a plane crash to be safe, kitchen sèx, breaking n' entering but they're into that, súb!gojo if u squint, fíngèring, òral (f), usage of powers, 3x01 homelander/butcher inspired, BIG DÍCK GOJO!!

呪術廻戦 : 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ( author says ) s/o to the evil man who inspired the gojo in this fic. and these scenes: 1/2 ofc (i'd rec watching to understand who reader/gojo is also inspired by). art, gojouify.

A ballpoint cap balances between your teeth as you scribble furiously, blue ink streaking across a spare napkin. The address is way too far out, a shipping container, two hours away and tucked into the skeletal maze of the port.

"This is a long drive for a maybe." You press the phone tighter against your ear, frowning at the scrawled numbers and letters, "You're sure I'll find something?"

On the other end, Nanami exhales sharply, the sound of a clock ticking faintly over the static. He's still in the office, no doubt hunched over a desk lit by the sickly glow of a desk lamp.

"Well," he hedges, ever the careful one, "I wouldn't go alone."

You tip your chair back, gaze drifting to the chaotic sprawl of files pinned to the red-string board by the wall. Photographs, names, offshore accounts that all lead back to the same festering rot. Lawmakers, politicians and billionaires.

The smiling, all-powerful titans who owned the system that was supposed to hold them accountable.

At the centre of it all? Gojo Satoru. The strongest superhero that the world had ever seen, barely held in check by Vought and international courts.

You chew at the soft inside of your cheek, "And you're sure this is the best lead we have?"

"After that shitshow at Congress?" Nanami sounds tired, stretched far too thin, "This is the only lead we have, or the only thing that I can find right now."

Ah, yes. The hearing.

The day you almost had them — Gojo, Vought and every polished, pre-packaged lie they peddled. A smoking gun to set the set the system ablaze.

And then, you could only watch the live television stream as every key witness's head popped like a balloon. Blood spraying against mahagony desks, gray matter splattered across the Capitol.

And not many had managed to escape that room unscathed. Save for a select few politicians and reporters, dealing out breathless, shaken interviews alongside an unshaken Gojo Satoru and Congressmen Geto.

You exhale through your nose, fingers tightening around the napkin, "Yeah, I'll check it out. See if I can find somethin' to nail that cunt."

"Let me know what you find," Nanami intones, a pause. And then, in a far more cautious tone, like he already knows you won't take heed, "Stay safe. And if you do come across Gojo, do not engage with him. In any way."

The line clicks dead.

You toss the streaky pen aside, reaching instead for the amber bottle on the cluttered table, the burn of whisky that's begging to be made familiar once more.

Regardless, it's far too late now to head out and check the address, for night has fallen and you doubt you'll manage to get far.

Beyond the murky glass of your balcony doors, the city pulses with sleepless energy. Neon signs flickering like dying embers, billboards — no doubt plastered with the airbrushed faces of the Supes who run this nation.

Sirens wail in the distance, and somewhere, far beyond the skyline you swear you see it.

A streak of white and blue, fast as lightning, splitting the sky for a fraction of a second. You blink, gummy and dry, nothing. Just the tired hallucinations of an exhausted, paranoid mind.

Pretending that there isn't a ghost in the sky watching you right back.

Your apartment is dying.

The walls peel like old skin, flaking onto the floors that were never properly finished. The overhead light's flickering, buzzing with a weak and dying hum. And the power outlets sputter like they resent being used. It's not a home, it never really was. Just another hideout, another temporary grave you haven't had to lie down in yet.

You press your knuckles into your eyes, willing the exhaustion away, but it sits heavy in your bones. Haven't you been running long enough? But even now, even here, you know it's not enough.

Because he knows. Gojo Satoru must have caught onto your trail months ago, and you can feel it in the way that the law often seems to let you go, and nation-wide manhunts culminate in no harm done. Like Gojo's toying with you.

Your fingers skim over the mess of papers on the table, stopping beneath a stack of unpaid bills and flyers. A small USB drive, wrapped in blue and silver.

Ah. Flight 37, a transatlantic flight carrying 123 passangers that never managed to land safely. But a goldmine had been fished out the torn wreckage, a shaky video clip that held proof of what Gojo Satoru truly was.

Not a saviour, not a hero. Not the golden boy that was worshipped on screens, talk shows and the international stage of diplomacy.

There's a prickling sensation under your skin, a slow burn that crawls up your arms. Then, it sinks deeper, heat. Your stomach clenches, cramping up as nausea slams into you like a freight train, your head spinning, your vision pulsing black at the edges.

You stumble, dropping the USB on the table as desparate fingers gripping the kitchen counter to stay upright. But you recognise the blisters blooming on the pads of your fingers, slow and ugly welts that bloom like flowers of rot.

This is no wayward sickness, for you would recognise the familiar decay of radioactive exposure. Something that's not quite human, or mortal.

Your blood turns to ice. Hold tightening around the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cheap laminate. Slowly, carefully, you approach the balcony.

The terracotta curtains are coarse under your fingers as you pull them aside. The city beyond is still alive, cars streaking through wet pavements and lights beaming in the smog. But it all feels muted.

Standing on the ledge, hands folded neatly behind his back, Gojo Satoru.

Your breath stutters as you force yourself to inhale, exhale. Slow and steady, through your nose. Whatever sick ploy he's radiating, you know it's simply meant to shake you. A twisted power play on his end.

So you hold your ground, and after a moment, the nausea ebbs. The blisters on your fingertips sealing over, cells stitching the edges of your frayed flesh back together.

You've never seen Gojo out of that deep blue suit, never without the brass eagles that pin the ridiculous cape over his broad back. Most heroes at least pretend to be human, some charade that they cling to for the chance of a secret life, away from the eyes of the press and the authorities. Supes often put on disguises, and casual clothes, something to blend in with the mortals that they claim to protect.

But Gojo?

There's no separation, no mask nor pretense. He doesn't walk among mortal men, he hovers above them. There's no separating him from the brutal power he wields — capable of striking a laser through a man's skull, or razing a city to rubble. Just a god with a PR-approved script, and the power to carve regimes into ribbons.

And yet, aren't you still standing?

If the strongest wanted you dead, he would have made a spectacle of it. Blood and fireworks for the evening news, another death used as collateral propaganda so the masses can thank him. That's the only mercy that Gojo knows.

You school your features, masking the instinct to flee. Or toss a plastic chair at his face. Gojo is akin to a hungry shark, and fear is blood in the water. You know that the safest way to deal with him is sheer indifference. If you give him nothing, he has nothing to bite or feast on.

You tilt your head, resting your weight against the large window as you pry it open. Letting the night air seep in, cold pricking at your skin, but it's nothing compared to the chill that Gojo's already dragged in with him.

He's staring. The blindfold is gone, and those impossible blue eyes fix on you, as though they're trying carve a jagged cut straight your ribcage — his handsome features stilled to stone.

You arch a brow, "If you're here to watch me get off, it'll cost you a tenner."

A beat of silence. And then, the smallest flicker of something that isn't amusement, but not quite irritation. Gojo doesn't rise to the bait, but his brow ticks up. The barest movement, as though he's debating whether or not to indulge you.

Jaw twitching as though Gojo seems to chew his words, slow and measured, "May I come in?"

You stare at him, gaze sweeping up and down, almost against your will. The way his suit hugs his body, emphasising the unfair curve of his chest, the sharp lines of Gojo's muscles, the tensions in the fabric as it stretches taut over skin. Eyes falling to the strand of white hair that flutters across his face, swaying in the night's breeze. Absurdly perfect, as if he's crafted from some celestial ideal.

But you refuse to indulge him, pressing your lips together tightly, not even a flicker of acknowledgement to the fact that he's standing on your balcony like he owns the damn place. Slowly, you step aside from the window, taking the invitation. Gojo doesn't need permission, but you give it anyway.

As Gojo sweeps past, your eyes linger on the sharp strands of his undercut, the delicate sweep of his hair, so pale it almost looks unreal. But you can see his nose wrinkle, disgust painted across his fine features as electric eyes skim the clutter of your apartment. The peeling walls, the cracked appliances, the mess of papers strewn across your table.

Gojo stops at the red string board, his gaze lingering on the photos and notes that have been painstakingly pinned up, and you see his mouth twitch. As though he's amused by your conspiracy, your obsession, your silent war.

"It's really always about me, isn't it?" Gojo's tone carries the faintest edge of mockery, that damn entertained smile curling the corners of his petal-pink lips.

Your jaw tightens, a flash of anger rearing up inside you. You tear your gaze away from him, "Why are you here? Got no-one to fuckin' torture over at Vought?"

Gojo sighs, almost theatrically, and he's puffing his cheeks out. As though he's bored, like this is a mild inconvenience for him, "So, you're going on a trip tomorrow, huh?"

You track his gaze to the napkin still resting on the table, the address scribbled carelessly across its surface, "What's it to you?" Hoping that your voice is level, and as neutral as it can get.

Gojo Satoru doesn't quite answer immediately. Instead, he pulls off those thick blue gloves, one finger at a time. His hands are oddly elegant, but you know just how capable they are of ending a life in a second, how capable they are of tearing a throat out without breaking a sweat. The very same hands now tuck the gloves into the bronze-metal band of his belt with an almost unsettling level of care.

"Well, I'm just hurt you're going somewhere without me," Gojo quips slyly, "We could have had ourselves a little road trip, sweetheart. Thelma and Louise on the open road, eh?"

You don't say anything, although you're dying to mention how Thelma & Louise ends. Gojo just rolls his searing-blue eyes skywards dramatically, as though he's used to your stubborn attitude.

"Y'know, I could jus' pull you apart, limb by limb," Gojo tacks on casually, "Make you tell me where you're going."

You can feel the tension in your gut tighten, but you refuse to let the Supe catch onto it, although you have no doubt that his superhuman senses can hear the beat of your heart pumping, every hitch in your breath.

"Nah," you bite back, "That'd be worthless. Victim always goes into shock. You gotta' start small. Fingers, nails, ears..." Your voice trails off, calling Gojo's bluff, forcing your words out as if the prospect doesn't shake you.

Gojo's vibrant, jewel-tone stare doesn't break, but the amusement in his eyes sharpens like iron against a whetstone. "It could be a matter of national security, you know," he murmurs, "I have a duty to protect his nation, to weed out any enemies of the state."

You huff in weary, mock exasperation, dragging a hand over your chin in faux-contemplation, "Look, uh, I don't mean to be rude, but can we just skip to the part where you laser my fuckin' brains out?"

Gojo just swears under his breath, "Oh, for fuck's sake," he's muttering, side-stepping around your rickety table, stepping closer as an almost fond smile tugs at his lips, "Where's the fun in that? Come on, look at ya'. It'd be like putting down a wounded dog?"

You don't flinch, you refuse the possibility. But there's that pulse of heat, low in your spine, when Gojo leans into your space. An electric storm about to crack wide as he studies you, eyes falling to the table where your cards are laid out blatantly, and you jolt. Remembering the innocuous little thing, that USB. The one that could very well be his undoing.

"What do you have on me, doll?" Gojo drawls, his voice smooth and untempered, towering over you like an impossibly magnetic force. You hold your ground as his eyes widen, "You do have something, I presume?"

With slow precision (and trembling fingers), you lift the USB, dangling it between your nails as Gojo's eyes flicker for a split second. Amused smile slipping just enough to show something that's less calculated. As though he knows what you grasp, what you're capable of.

Gojo's expression hardens for a split moment, blush-pink lips parted as he watches you, drinks in the sight of you gredily. All before cold steels locks into place once more, his demeanour laced with something far more callous, like a man cornered who knows exactly how to strike back.

"Go ahead. Release it," Gojo steps closer, until you can feel his breath against your skin, and you catch the tang of iron and clean, expensive leather. "Let's light this candle, huh? I mean, sure, I'll lose everything, doll. But then, I'll have nothin' to lose." His voice is quiet, but there's unmistakable malice beneath it.

"First, I'll take out the nerve centres. The seat of the government, the High Courts. Then, any domestic defense capabilities. Critical infrastructure, cellular, Internet, all of it. And then?" Gojo pauses, teeth catching onto the plush flesh of his lower lip.

"Then, I'll just wipe this city right off the fuckin' map, for fun," Gojo adds, a dark smile curling at the edges of his lips, "Hell, I'll throw in that little town your friend's from. Kento, right? Nanami, from the office? Because, why not?"

Gojo's lips brush the shell of your ear, and you resist the urge to shiver, locking your eyes with his own defiantly, venomously as he continues, "See, sweetheart, I'd prefer to be loved. Y'know, as the strongest, I really would. But if you take that away from me? Well, being feared is A-one, okey-doke by me."

Gojo wants you to challenge him, to hear you break the silence with something other than terror, "So, doll," he murmurs, practically cooing, "Go ahead. Do it." His lips curl, sharp fangs poking out from his glossy, red mouth, "No? You don't wanna? Well, then, I'd say you have absolutely no fuckin' leverage. Because I am the strongest, and I can really do whatever the fuck I want."

You blink angrily, breath catching as Gojo watches you with an almost affection gleam in his eyes. As though he's enjoying this, this sparring match where he's got you pinned. So you swallow thickly, and deep down, you know he's right.

Gojo Satoru is unstoppable. He could easily turn on the world that worships him, props him up, and there's nothing anyone could do about it. No nuclear treaty, no tank nor fighter jet could stand a chance against Unlimited Void or Hollow Purple.

There's no undoing the seams and stitches that hold Gojo together. None, apart from...

Your eyes flicker downwards, instinctively, to the thick curve that bulges through the tight suit he dons. That mouth-watering, delicious bulge that's packed, and if Gojo steps any closer, it would jostle against your thigh.

You inch closer, smoothly, grasping at the stray strand of ice-white hair to tuck it behind Gojo's ears. His expression widening, raw and open for a split second as he shivers, purrs.

"Say I call your bluff, Gojo," you say coolly, "What are you gonna' do, right here, right now?" Your hand trails away from his ear, brushing the high, stiff collar of his suit. Fingers gently pressing into the warm flesh of his neck. You feel his pulse jump under your touch, staccato beats that hiccup along.

And you could have sworn that Gojo breathes out a gentle sigh, lips parting around the words, "Finally."

But his cerulean eyes are narrowed, jaw still clenched, as though he's trying to figure out your angle. Now, he truly does push closer to you so that packed curve brushes against your thigh. And it's big, larger-than-life, like everything about Gojo Satoru is.

Fuck this, you shake your head, as though you're tossing away your rationality. Reaching up to thread your fingers through soft, white hair. Pulling Gojo closer as he groans, closing the distance. Lips crashing against your own, forceful and desperate.

You can feel Gojo freeze, stutter as he seems to work through his shock. But then, something irrevocably shifts in him. Ocean-blue eyes fluttering close, so white lashes kiss his creamy skin. A large hand gripping at your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

It's rough, and messy — and your tongue lingers on the taste of something like espresso, and sweet, sugar syrup to boot. The creamy taste of Gojo Satoru that lingers on your tongue and makes your mouth water.

"Tch', you –" Gojo murmurs, as though all the air in the world has been stolen from his lungs, "You jus' don't k-know how long I've wanted this. Ever since you, heh, fired that bullet at me when we first met."

His tone is erratic, large hands splayed against the small of your back, pushing you further against the kitchen counter.

"That shit went right through ya' head," you breathe, struggling to stay steady against the hard plane of Gojo's form, the muscles curling into you, "Didn't do a fuckin' thing."

Gojo's giggling, giggling as though he's already drunk on your touch, so utterly dangerous. Tugging at your top, fingers spread wide over the curve of your chest. Flicking at the sharp peaks of your nipples, "Waste of a perfectly good round, eh, doll?"

The tips of Gojo's ears are a searing shade of crimson, as he's pulling and toying with your clothes. You have never, ever in your wildest and most illicit fantasies imagined Gojo Satoru like this.

You've never pictured him so obedient, so desperate to meld into your hold. Bright blue eyes glazed over, filmy and hazy as his cheeks are mottled pink.

The most dangerous man in the entire world (or so you'd wager) has you firm against the cracking plastic of your counter, with his lips finding home on whatever skin he can find. Kissing, bruising, sucking at the tender flesh in a way that you know will leave blooming marks.

"C-can I?" Gojo pleads, as though he hasn't spent a lifetime whispering quiet threats into your ear, but now his large hand is softly pressed against the back of your neck.

Slick-strands falling from his lips as he sips at your taste, sucking gently on your tongue.

He kisses you firmly with such force that it leaves you dizzy, and the way he strokes at your cheek with a bruised knuckle is far too tender for a man who's practically a walking, ticking bomb.

He's roughly cupping your tits, kneading at the soft fat and flesh, "Hah, pretty, aren'tcha?" Strands of snow-white hair tickling at your neck as Gojo leans his head down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, lickin' and sucking wherever he can reach.

You arch your spine, pulling Gojo even closer. Grinding your clothed core right up against the hard length taut in that damned suit. Feeling every inch brush up against you.

"F-fuck," Gojo murmurs, slurring out babble and praise out through his kiss-swollen lips. You're slowly rocking your hips back and forth, unintentionally honestly, but you're desperate for some friction to relieve the ache that's blooming within your searing groin.

The pads of his fingers are tilting your jaw at the perfect angle, swollen lips sticky against yours, "Just like that," Gojo grunts, running his pink tongue over the kiss-bitten flesh of your own mouth, "N-not so mouthy now, are we?"

But then, because you think Gojo Satoru is unable to go even a second without antagonising you, the white-haired man is lifting his head. Glossy eyes tearing over your apartment as he pulls an unimpressed face, "Damn, this place is kinda' a dump. You really live like this?"

Your fingers latch onto the stray strands on his head, bucking your hips into his bulge harsher, "Says the cunt who made me a fugitive."

Gojo shakes his head, making a faint pshh, dismissive sound as he scoops you up, biceps not even curling to strain as he roughly stomps towards your meagre, thin bed. Laying you flat on the flat mattress as he rumples the waistband of your pants, hooking his thumb underneath the fabric.

You don't even realise it at first, but you're admiring those razor-sharp, strikingly handsome features. Watching as Gojo tugs at his cape, rough and coarse until the fabric tears away from his shoulder plates — until the azure stars and stripes end up on the wooden floor discarded.

"So, doll, how exactly do ya' want me? " Gojo titters, gently pulling a finger into the flimsy cotton of your panties. You can see his nose twitch, eyes flutter shut for a split second as he visibly reels from the messy, filthy slick pooling under his nails. You can only groan, arching at the sudden stimulation as he begins to crook his fingers faster against your folds.

You suddenly pull your thighs taut together, clenching the flesh to trap his hand, "Taste me, Gojo." Breath shuddering as Gojo's fingers suddenly still, ice-blue eyes blown wide at your gall to give him a command.

But he's always been an excellent soldier, hasn't he? Because he seems to be moving on autopilot, pulling his dripping fingers away and gently lolling his tongue on your translucent sheen, "Hah, I can't believe you're g-giving me orders." Gojo almost whimpers at your sweet tang, desperate to have your pussy drool into his waiting mouth.

"M-more, can you – oh, fuck," You inhale sharply, feeling Gojo's fingers imprint on your thighs, firmly spreading your legs apart so he can shuffle further back, his breath moist against your wet cunt, "Heh, never thought you'd ever be like this."

Gojo gives you a flat look, the underside of his eyes crinkling as he stares at you, "Don't get used to t-this." He's grumbling, but his eyes are blown wide, tongue darting out of his mouth to catch a stray drop of your precious arousal dribbling down your inner thigh, "It's just 'cause –"

You don't give his smart-alec mouth time to formulate any words, groaning as you pull at the thick, soft and tousled strands of white hair. Letting the tip of his sharp nose nudge against your clit as Gojo suddenly muffles a desparate, thirst-laden whine, "Mhm, mhm, fuck!"

"Yeah, y-yeah," You breathe, sighing in relief as he presses his tongue flat against your pussy, laving thickly at the glossy folds that he's desperate to munch at, "That's what I thought."

Stifled sounds prick at your ears, a mantra of words falling from Gojo's mouth, something that sounds suspiciously like "Thank you, t-thank you, thank —." The strongest man in the entire world losing his mind, so grateful to wrap his lips against your swollen bud, your throbbing clit as he sucks. Hard.

Your walls clench suddenly, and you can feel the tip of Gojo's tongue prod at your entrance. That length somehow managing to render you gummy, dazed and speechless as he pushes the wet muscle into your cunt, "Ah, ahh, 'Toru, please."

Nothing prepares you for how Gojo's long, slender fingers come to slap at your pussy. Lengthy digits pistoning right into your tender, sensitive walls as he's eager to curve and search for that sweet spot that will make you scream, "What'dya call me, sweets? 'Toru?"

Gojo's looking up at you, and if you didn't know better, you'd say his expression was almost shy. Those eyes, blue like the core of a searing star, like something inhuman was barely contained and desperate to break free. There's something eerie about how bright they are, how they seem to glow even in the dim, murky light of your apartment.

There's glossy, snapping strands of Gojo's new favourite thirst-quencher falling from his lips as he laps at you. Long lashes fluttering against high cheekbones as there's a slight sheen of exertion beading at his temple, "If, if I had known that all I had to do to shut ya' up was eat you out, then —" Gojo whistles low, the vibrations echoing through your cunt, "Woulda' drank this pussy a longgg time ago."

You buck your hips against his nose, canting against his shapely nose bridge, "Don't get c-cocky." Seems that Gojo's just that desperate for you to boss him around, because he's already turning his attention and bratty mouth back to your cunt, licking you right up until he's certain you're seeing stars.

He's still got his suit on, broad-shoulders snugly wrapped in the textured fabric. Sculpting over his bicep even as he draws you even closer, until he's face to face with his new, second favourite girl. With you being his number #1, of course, Gojo isn't afraid to admit that you plotting to kill him has turned him on immensely over the years.

The idea of you planting your thighs around his head 'til he's devoid of air has had him pulling and jerking at his cock, whimpering until he was shooting blanks.

"Come on," and Gojo's snickering at his own play on words, "Or s-should I say c-cum on." Smacking his lips filthily against your folds, fingers pushing at your clit and rubbing furious circles over and over again until you feel the world go blank, and you're star-struck.

Gojo's whispering sweet nothings, adoring praise into your cunt as you ride out your high against his face, "Pretty girl, s-so good for me, heh. Think 'm fuckin' addicted."

You're already lazily pulling yourself up, propping yourself back on your elbows as you take in the sight of a teary-eyed Gojo Satoru. You watch as he pulls himself up, frame towering over you in the flimsy bed as he tugs and paws at the thick, firm bulge in his suit. Now darkened with a translucent patch of his release.

Gojo's fisting his hand over his cock in some ineffective form of relief, "Wanna' show you, g-gorgeous, wanna' show you how the strongest fucks."

But then, his eyes are looking up, wide and superhuman. Searing blue that lights up the dim room like a torch, and it's only then you notice that the lightbulb that once precariously teetered from your ceiling has shattered, and there's a crack in the large window that you swore you've never seen before.

And clutched within Gojo Satoru's fingers, shards of silver metal and blue chips. Fuck, that hag, that doped-up cunt must have had that USB clenched between his fingers the entire time, swiping it off the table when you pulled him in.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart," Gojo scoffs, pulling out a cock that beams with an angry, red mushroom tip. Thick spurts of cum already clinging to the slit as he hisses, and your thighs clench in anticipation of the delicious split, "I got something b-better for you right here."

[lijoue]

ITALIA WORLD MOD PACK

Hello hello,

I've been working hard to create something really good to share with you. This is my most ambitious release yet, so I hope it was worth the wait!

ITALIA is a custom cc 'game pack' that transforms Tartosa into a beautiful Italian-inspired destination! Tartosa is my favourite world in the game, but I feel like it never gets any love because everyone hates My Wedding Stories. I want to help you fall in love with the beauty of Tartosa! If you don't have My Wedding Stories, there's plenty of base-game friendly items for you as well. There is A LOT of stuff in this pack (around 125 items).

Download Link & More Details on Patreon (early Access)

CORE FEATURES

Tartosa world override with new world lighting, buildings, trees, streetlights, functional objects, marketstalls, and decor.

New food & drinks (gelato, pasta, pizza, wine, and coffee!)

New custom-tuned functional objects to elevate your gameplay.

NEW FUNCTIONAL OBJECTS (custom tuning)

Picnic Blanket | Sit, eat, gaze at the sky, and even bathe in the moonlight. *DLC interactions require their respective packs (Lovestruck, Life & Death)

Beach Bathroom | Using this outdoor bathroom costs 1§ and restores hygiene & bladder without the uncomfy public bathroom buffs.

Beach Bag | Works like a dresser to change outfit on-the-go.

Cooler Bag | Stock with drinks & snacks. Functions like a picnic basket on blankets and picnic tables. Helps keep food fresh and fixes the picnic basket inventory to store up to 99 food and drink items.

Stovetop Moka Pot | Brew a quick pot of espresso from the countertop or stovetop.

Souvenir Stand | Purchase from a curated selection of art & objects. Includes items that are difficult to obtain in-game, as well as cc from two of my favourite creators bbygyal 123andPierisim. CC items will only show up in the shop if you already have the files in your Mods folder, so please check out their work if you haven't already! Sims can also purchase wearable souvenir t-shirts and baseball caps.

Gelato Stand | Purchase gelato, ice cream, and drinks.

Beach Stand | Purchase beach stuff, drinks, snacks, and souvenirs.

Coffee Stand | Purchase coffee and snacks

Park Fountain | Toss a coin in the fountain and have a seat. The XL version spawns butterflies.

Drinking Fountain | Wash hands or grab a drink of water with the infinitely refillable water bottle.

Nectar Bottle | Pour a glass of nectar. Includes 7 new nectar drinks and new custom buffs. Also includes in-game nectars from Horse Ranch, Dine Out, Bistro etc.

Classic Pool Float | Please download my mod Better Pool Floats for optimal experience.

Restaurant | Call a waiter to serve a curated menu of food & drinks. Sims in a rush can also order to-go (without a waiter).

NEW FOOD & DRINKS 

Nectar: Vigna Bianco, Sparkling Luminoso Bianco, Sparkling Luminoso Rosé, Rosa D'Amorosa, Amanti del Rosso, The Devil's Nectar, Bianco Spritz

Gelato: Pistachio, Pesca, Fragola, Bacio, Fior di Latte, Vanille, Caffè, Limoncello

Pasta: Carbonara, Spicy Carbonara, Spaghetti Alle Vongole, Cacio e Pepe, Spaghetti Marinara, Shrimp Spaghetti Marinara, Spaghetti Aglio e Olio

Snacks: Margherita Pizza, White Funghi Pizza, Fruit & Cheese Charcuterie Board

Cooler Drinks: Bottled Water, Aranciata Soda, Lemon Soda, Mojito Soda, Barbet Light Wave, Barbet Wild Card, Barbet Love Bite

Espresso: Caffe Latte, Cappuccino, Italian Hot Chocolate, Mocha, Macchiato, Americano

Download Link & More Details on Patreon (early Access)

[florencemtrash]

The Graveyard Shift: Chapter II

Simon Riley x f!Reader

Author's Note: Credit goes to @gloomwitchwrites and this specific post for inspiring this fic! This idea has lived in my mind rent free for weeks now, so I'm finally just going to do something about it.

Summary: Simon Riley is a lonely grave keeper in Victorian England who puts a marriage proposal ad in the London newspaper. He's ready to make his house a home, but can he convince his new wife that he can be her safe space, or will the secret she carries threaten their newfound happiness?

Warnings: abusive marriages (not Simon), allusions to SA in later chapters (not explicit)

The Graveyard Shift Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

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Simon Riley woke, as he always did, thirty minutes before the sun. Alone. He baked biscuits and a single slice of bacon for breakfast, let Riley out into the woods behind the cottage to conduct his business, and ate on the wicker chair by the front steps. He waited for his tea to cool enough that he could swallow it in one great mouthful, and when the sun had risen high enough to ricochet off the gravestones and cast the world in a blue hue, he took his bag of digging tools and set off into the graveyard with Riley at his heels. 

Riley meandered about the stones, shoving his black nose into the grassy earth and hunting for creatures that swam in the deep, dark crust, blind and protected. Simon paid little mind to his dog as he carefully plucked the weeds from each and every gravestone. He scrubbed at the moss and fungi that bloomed in whorls along the engravings, only whistling on occasion to remind Riley not to disturb the wildflowers that grew in gentle tufts. There were no new graves to dig. No new headstones to carve. Today was just about the gardening.

It was hard labor, but quiet. Pensive. Not at all the grotesque task people made it out to be. Simon liked to think he was but a visitor to the souls that might be roaming the graves. Liked to think that they approved of the careful selection of flowers he planted along the edges of the graveyard, or the way he trimmed the grass right up to the stone markers. Or the way he remembered to pluck and discard every branch that had been snapped in the previous night’s rainfall. 

He was halfway through the workday, sweat collecting at the seam of his cap when he heard Father Hughes’ familiar, asthmatic heaving up the hill. The spindly man appeared slowly over the crest and then all at once. His clean cap and narrow black clothes gave the impression that he was always pointing to God — a fitting appearance for the tallest clergyman that anyone had seen on this side of Kent. 

Simon took off his cap in welcome, silently trudging back to his house to set the kettle on for Father Hughes. The clergyman stumbled in after, rapidly folding himself into the nearest chair and rubbing his chest. 

“Lord have mercy on me,” he huffed, “That hill will be the death of me.” 

Simon chuckled good naturedly, waiting for the exact moment Father Hughes would once again forget his height and slam his knee into the kitchen table. The moment came soon after with a brusque, polite, “Good heavens!” Then Simon placed the teacup on the table. 

“God bless you, Simon. I’m glad I caught you at home—” there were few other places Simon frequented “—for I have good news!” He slid a short stack of letters across the table, all of them still stamped and sealed. “I would have delivered them sooner, but alas, I needed to visit the Tomlins all of last week.” 

Simon nodded in understanding, busying himself with frying a slice of bread over the fireplace. He knew very well that the youngest son, William Tomlin had passed away after a long bout of sickness. He had dug the grave after all. 

“Thank you, Father Hughes,” he answered in his low, sandpaper voice. 

Simon could not read. He could only sign his name and had a steady enough hand to engrave the gravestones so long as he followed someone else’s marks. Father Hughes took care of all else. Simon waited as the clergyman cracked open the first letter and read the contents aloud. 

“Margaret Tacker. 19 years old of London. A conduit for the spirits—”

“No occultists.” He couldn’t stand the ones looking to make cheap money off someone else’s tragedy. They could go haunt someone else’s graveyard but not his. 

Father Hughes opened the next two letters but didn’t bother reading them to Simon before he rolled them up and shot them into the fireplace. A wave of sparks spit out onto the floor where Simon kneeled, but the man didn’t so much as flinch, only pulled up the thin scarf he covered his mouth with when working in the graveyard, and continued cooking.

“Alice Bingham. 48 years—well that’s a bit too old for you.” 

Simon sighed as another letter was fed to the flames. The advert had gone out only once in the London papers two weeks ago and although a fair few women had responded, none had been of promise. Most were of the spiritual trend that spread through the cities like wildfire more interested in disturbing the spirits that Simon tended to than finding a husband. The other third were, as Father Hughes liked to judge them, harlots and thieves. Simon had scoffed when Father Hughes had first uttered those words — a grave keeper was hardly of any worth to a woman after money — but even he had to agree that their letters did not entice him, and he so desperately wanted a wife.

He wondered if he was being too choosy. A man of his age and profession could not afford to be select with women, especially not one so lonely as Simon with only Riley and Father Hughes for company. And yet he had hoped to find someone who might care for him. Someone he could take care of in kind. 

It was Father Hughes’ silence that caught Simon’s attention as he slid over a buttered piece of fried toast. The cookware squeaked across the scuffed table and crumbs fell into Father Hughes’ wiry beard as he chewed and pondered the final letter.

“Y/n Hall of London, though originally born of Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire, where the weather is no better or worse than anywhere else. 25 years of age. Can sew, knit, cook, clean, read, and sing (passably). Would enjoy gardening if given the chance. Of small upbringing. Quiet and of respectable countenance. Never married.”

Simon snatched up the photo that Father Hughes held the moment the letter was read. Very few of the women sent photos, though most wrote of facial features too perfect to be true. It was a common tintype, slightly blurred from movement so that the edges of her hair and dress seemed to merge into the background. A soft, solemn face stared back at him with eyes so deep he thought he might fall forward into the picture and disappear forever. Although she did not smile for the picture, he swore he saw the faintest turn in her cheeks that suggested she did, at least on occasion, laugh. 

“Anything else?” Simon asked breathlessly. His heart should not have been beating so quickly in his chest, nor his cheeks as warm as they were. He tugged his scarf up higher, hiding behind the dark cloth until only two plain, brown eyes looked out.

“There is a return address to a bishop in London, but nothing else.” 

Simon memorized every line that had been read to him. It wasn’t so dreary in the countryside as it was in London, and if she was interested in gardening, she could help him expand the herb selection behind the cottage. He could ask Father Hughes for books. He could—

He froze. He was imagining too much already, thinking too heavily before she’d even properly agreed to marry him. 

“What do I do next?” He asked. 

Father Hughes blinked and then smiled slow as syrup. He drummed his slender fingers on his cap, looking around the cottage deep in thought. 

It was a small house where the drawing room, entryway, kitchen, and dining room were one and the same. The front of the house stared out rows of gravestones that sloped down to the town below like it was carried on a wave of green. But the floors were swept clean every night and bore only a respectable number of scuffs. The walls were bare and lime-washed once a year. The pantry was stocked just enough for one man and a dog, but free of spiders and dust. It was all clean and lived in… but terribly lonely. Father Hughes thought it could use the spark of color that only a companion could bring — the sense of permanence that made a house a home.

“I can have the marriage papers drafted and sent to this bishop in London. A lawyer will need to approve of the documents, and of course, the lady must sign them, her family members made aware and affairs managed. And—.”

“Could you take care of all that?”

“Why certainly, I—”  

“Then?” 

Father Hughes huffed. Simon Riley was a man of such few words it never occurred to the clergyman that he could be interrupted by said man. 

“Then you will find yourself in possession of a wife. She will find her way to Chilham and…”

“And?!”

“Then you shall do what married people do.”

Was it really all that simple? Simon couldn’t fathom it as he spent the next weeks preparing the house. He’d been perhaps too quick to sign the papers and shove them in Father Hughes’ hands, barely giving the priest time to read aloud the contract to him. Then he’d set off into town — which he rarely did — and gone to the blacksmith for a ring — which he could scarcely believe. What he left with days later was a simple band with a misshapen pearl that had once belonged to his grandmother. 

Then came the cleaning, and the rearranging of his items to make space for her — which took a depressingly short amount of time, for Simon had little — and the building of a new wardrobe to fill the corner of his bedroom. 

Their bedroom. He reminded himself not for the first time, wiping the sweat that trickled down from his temples to the black mask he kept over his nose and mouth. It was difficult work tending to graves. Even harder work digging them from sunup to sundown with nothing but grave markers, a dog, and the ghosts for company. 

For good measure he came into the possession of a vanity that he refurbished and stained a handsome mahogany before leaving it beside the new wardrobe. 

That would be her corner, he decided, and every morning he would get to lay in bed and watch as she put up her hair, and every evening he would watch as she brushed it out and prepared for bed. 

The image came to him so forcefully that he had to swallow three times to clear his throat. He hadn’t realized how much he missed having another person in his life — another body to hear moving around his home. Perhaps she would hum as she worked in the kitchen and read to him at night as he helped keep the fire alight for evening tea. It hurt him to think about it. 

It excited him so.

Riley huffed against his knee, staring up with eyes black as pitch as he whined and shook his bushy brown tail. 

There was one gravestone, old enough that time and wind had worn away the words once etched into the rock, that Simon liked to lean back on as he drank ale at the end of a long day. The air was hot and stifling, but he found he could breathe a little easier now.  

He cracked a small smile, running his rough hands through Riley’s brown-black coat and rubbing his pointy, velvety ears. 

“You won’t get to sleep with me in bed no more. Sorry.” But he wasn’t terribly apologetic. Simon knelt down, letting the shepherd lick his salty skin. “I hope you’re as excited as I am. I hope she likes us both.” 

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[kwisatzworld]

MUGELLO 1999: Valentino embraced the spirit of the ‘60s counterculture with a striking hippie-inspired helmet and bike livery. The words “Valentipeace & Love” were boldly lettered in red on both sides of his bike’s fairing, turning the racetrack into a rolling message of harmony. On the back of his helmet, a cartoon version of Valentino is seen firing not bullets, but flowers, a powerful homage to Bernie Boston’s iconic photograph “Flower Power”.

Flower Power is a photograph by American photographer Bernie Boston, taken on October 21, 1967, during the March on the Pentagon against the Vietnam War. It captures protester George Harris placing a carnation into the barrel of an M14 rifle held by a soldier from the 503rd Military Police Battalion.

CATALUNYA TEST 2003: Valentino debuted one of his boldest and most politically charged helmet designs. In the very week that the Iraq War began, he appeared on track wearing a rainbow-colored helmet—a universal symbol of peace. The word PACE (“peace” in Italian) stood out in all caps on the back, accompanied by the iconic phrase “Fate l’amore, non fate la guerra” (“Make love, not war”).

The phrase “Make love, not war” became a defining slogan of the 1960s counterculture and anti-Vietnam War movement. It called for peace and compassion instead of violence and conflict, capturing the spirit of a generation that challenged traditional values through protests, music, and art. Over time, it evolved into a timeless message advocating harmony and understanding worldwide.

MISANO 2020: Franky’s 2020 Misano helmet paid tribute to Spike Lee’s iconic film Do the Right Thing, a powerful exploration of racial tension and social justice. Amid a year marked by global protests and urgent calls for equality, Franky’s design stood as a bold statement against injustice. On the back, the word “Equality” appeared in multiple languages, underscoring a universal demand for fairness and unity across cultures.

Do the Right Thing, directed by Spike Lee in 1989, is a landmark film that explores racial tension, systemic inequality, and community dynamics during a sweltering day in Brooklyn. Known for its vibrant style and unflinching social commentary, the film remains profoundly relevant decades later. After winning the 2020 Misano race wearing the tribute helmet, Franky received a phone call from Spike Lee himself.

VALENCIA 2021: In 2021, as Valentino prepared to retire from full-time racing, each member of the VR46 Riders Academy chose one of his iconic helmet designs to recreate as a tribute. Franky selected the 1999 Mugello Peace & Love helmet. With its colorful design and cartoon Rossi firing flowers instead of bullets, the helmet became a bridge across generations, celebrating not just a racing legend, but a philosophy rooted in joy, rebellion, and peace.

Because each academy member chose their tribute helmet independently, their selections offered a glimpse into their personal taste and values. The designs they picked weren’t just fan favorites, they reflected what each rider connected with most deeply in Valentino’s long and expressive career. Whether it was humor, protest, nostalgia, or creativity, each helmet told a story, not just about Valentino, but about the rider who chose to wear it.

2022: As the Russo-Ukrainian War unfolded, Franky added a powerful message to the back of his regular-season helmet, a sticker that read “Give Peace a Chance.” Quoting John Lennon’s famous anti-war anthem, the gesture was Franky’s way of taking a stand against violence and calling for peace.

MUGELLO 2025: At its center is a massive peace symbol, filled with psychedelic flowers—daisies, sunflowers, wild blooms—reminiscent of the Flower Power era. The helmet’s back features a bright green parrot, Franky’s longtime personal emblem, perched on a pair of throttle handles and flashing a peace sign with its wing, replacing Woodstock’s dove and guitar with symbols of racing. Below it reads, “Mugello… 3 days of Peace and full Throttle.”—A direct nod to the 1969 Woodstock Festival’s call for “3 Days of Peace & Music.” But in 2025, this isn’t just nostalgia. Against the backdrop of global conflict, especially the war in Gaza, the message lands differently, racing becomes a canvas for resistance.

The official poster for the 1969 Woodstock Music & Art Fair has become one of the most iconic images of the counterculture era. Designed by Arnold Skolnick, it features a simple yet powerful graphic: a white dove perched on the neck of a bright red guitar, set against a calm blue background. The dove—a universal symbol of peace—resting on a musical instrument captured the essence of the festival’s message: “3 Days of Peace & Music.” Held during a time of political unrest and deep division over the Vietnam War, Woodstock stood as a symbol of unity, nonviolence, and collective hope.

[heavenbarnes]

completely self indulgent thoughts about older!bf simon inspired by today's events at work. I work in tech/sales and a lot of my days are spent setting up new phones for people who are 35+, that for the life of them, can't figure out technology. just thinking about older!bf simon needing to get a new phone and asks reader for her thoughts, but when reader starts talking about storage size or sim cards he gets confused and just tells her "pick whatever love, I trust your judgement" not just because he does in fact, trust her judgement, but also because he can't he bothered trying to learn and understand.

have many thoughts about this.

friend, 90% of what i write is entirely self indulgent- we’ve got to do it 🫶🏼

it’s a miracle you convinced older bf!simon to finally get rid of that god forsaken flip phone and start working with an actual smartphone.

granted, it was like pulling teeth (yes the prospect of receiving nudes whilst he was deployed helped) but what mattered was he’d finally entered the 21st century.

and then he drops his cellphone on the drive and manages to boot it into the side of the neighbour’s garage. the thing was absolutely munted by the time it’d come off the end of simon’s steel cap.

which is why you’re standing in the middle of the electronics store looking at endless tables of cellphones and simon looks like he’s there at gunpoint.

“i ‘ave been held at gunpoint, was better than this”

so you lead him to the smartphones that are smart but not too smart, the ones that look hard to break or get wrong. they also look older than half the people working in the store, but that’s besides the point.

“can i help you both with anything?”

right on cue, a young but cheery guy appears across the table with a lanyard that tells you his name is hunter and he’s ready to help!

“no”

your elbow fits nicely under simon’s ribcage as you gear up to play hunter’s defence lawyer for however long this interaction is going to take.

“hi hunter, this one is looking for a new smartphone- what do you recommend?”

and while hunter does a standup job at explaining the benefits of a handful of phones he probably hasn’t sold to anyone under 75, simon is suddenly well engaged.

“and we’ve got a selection of cases, just regular ones or tough ones”

“need t’be tough, don’t want the fucker breakin’ when i’ve got someone in a headlock”

hunter pales and you veeeery slowly turn to simon with a look on your face that begs to know what the actual fuck is wrong with him.

“oh simon, you comic trailblazer- you know what, you’ve been so helpful hunter, thank you!”

you cut the kid loose as he tries to leave the table without taking his eyes off simon, who coincidentally is doing the exact same thing to him.

“would it kill you to let him help us?!”

“just about, didn’t like the way he looked at ‘ya”

the kid didn’t look a day out of school and naturally your better half has to pick a fight with any guy that so much as exists within your atmosphere.

he’s lucky he’s so handsome.

“ugh, which one do you prefer? 32GB? 64?”

“whaddyou’ reckon?”

and you’re about to let out the longest sigh known to man when you catch the look on his face.

that same look he gives you when he’s dressed up for dinner or just come back from a haircut, the look he gives you that tells you he’s looking for your opinion.

approval

“32 would do you, i don’t think you need that much space”

he grunts before he pulls you into his side, taking you both to the counter so he can get you to say all that again to your helpful attendee.

“oi, hunter”

poor guy nearly jumps out of his skin but manages to settle when he realises he’s about to close the sale, even manages to upsell that tough case.

simon settles once he’s back in the car with you, eyes scanning the box his phone comes in and grumbling something under his breath.

when you ask him to speak up you immediately wish you hadn’t.

“lost all those videos ‘f yours, better be enough space f’the new ones”

[allgarbo]

One afternoon Greta started once or twice to ask a favour, then decided against it: ‘Perhaps another day I’ll mention it.’ I was most intrigued. Then she continued hesitantly: ‘If only you were not such a grand and elegant photographer…’ I finished the sentence for her: ‘Then you’d ask me to take your passport photograph?’ She looked astounded. ‘How did you know?’ Greta had told me she was planning to leave for a holiday in Sweden, and I realized it would have been impossible for her to go to any ordinary passport photographer without the results being displayed far and wide. Knowing her antipathy to publicity of all forms, resulting in her terror of cameras, I had purposely never suggested that she should pose for me. To take pictures of her has always been my greatest ambition, and this opportunity was unique. However, the sitting must be as simple and private as possible, for to have an assistant with lights would be to overload the occasion. The following afternoon a screen was placed near a window, while on the outside door of my apartment a notice was pinned: ‘Passport photographs taken here.’ The sitter arrived wearing a biscuit-coloured suit and polo-collared sweater, her hair a lion’s mane. At first she stood stiffly to attention, facing my Rolleiflex full-face as if it were a firing squad. But, by degrees, she started to assume all sorts of poses and many changes of mood. The artist in her suddenly came into flower. She was enjoying the return to an aspect of the metier that had been her life’s work, and I could only click the trigger in an effort to capture yet another marvellous moment of her inspiration. Could I believe my luck? By degrees I was emboldened enough to ask if she would take off her habitual sweater. Then I brought out some ‘prop’ clothes — a pierrot’s ruff and white pointed cap — that I had secreted just in case… Greta became Dabureau. A man’s top hat was discarded on sight, though a Holbein tam-o’-shanter was approved once it was bashed into a Chinese mandarin’s hat. Every now and again my ever-growing euphoria would be interrupted by Greta’s saying: ‘That’s enough now — got to go.’ But by the time I took her word as ‘gospel’ a vast number of pictures had been made. The results formed a prized collection — though few of them were suitable for passports. When shown the small contacts, the sitter was pleased. She pronounced them ‘strong’ and clean-cut and of a good quality. Together we went shopping for a folding leather frame so that I could have my favourites by me wherever I travelled. She put a pencilled cross on the back of those of which she approved and would allow me to publish in Vogue magazine. When the selection was sent to my good friend, Alexander Liberman, the Art Editor, he could hardly believe his eyes. Here was a precious windfall of a dozen different pictures of someone who for ten years had resolutely refused to be photographed. From the rich hoard Alex chose a laughing head to be used across two pages. Surely this did not do justice to the full range of Greta’s beauty? I cajoled him into publishing a variety of moods and guises. Greta Garbo photographed by Cecil Beaton (1946) The Happy Years: Diaries 1944-48 by Cecil Beaton

[pikahlua]

Okay, here's my MHA criticism.

Everyone has their own personal hangups about the MHA ending, but mine is not about the ending itself. The epilogue doesn't feel rushed to me--the entire final act does, ever since the PLW ending.

But I can't say that the issue is actually rushed writing. There was a change in the writing, and it came with pros and cons. Ever since this change, a lot of people felt a lack of Izuku's introspection, but I still see his introspection all over the place. It's just not compelling introspection, and it's the natural consequence of this writing change.

The thing that changes is the way Horikoshi depicts character interaction and reflection.

To cap off the story's themes, Horikoshi chooses to focus on select emotional beats involving specific characters as short, finite set pieces. Some of them work great, like Katsuki's apology. But what is lost in this process are the other emotional beats Horikoshi doesn't spend time on, such as Izuku's quick, comical, emotionally dissonant reunion with All Might back at UA after going vigilante. The set pieces Horikoshi chooses to focus on at Tomura's end are two moments, one between All For One and Yoichi, and the other between Izuku and Tomura. But what is lost in this case is the strangely off-screened encounter between Nana's and Tomura's vestiges, and we're just given the fact that Nana preserved Tomura's sense of self as an offhand remark. This is a recurring theme where Horikoshi lands the set pieces he has likely visualized for years but that somehow don't have the same impact as the emotional scenes from earlier in the story. The details that build up to these moments are lacking, and it's because the characters don't interact as they should.

Horikoshi has overall messages he wants to focus on, such as the unity in everyone coming together inspired by Izuku at the end. But he places so much focus on his entire cast of characters at large to achieve this theme that the story becomes unbalanced. We as readers have read about his characters over the years, and we've grown especially attached to some of them. Even if there are minor characters we may enjoy, if Horikoshi is doing his job as a writer, the majority of us should be here for the main characters. If Horikoshi wants to feature every single one of his characters in the final arc, then he has to do so with balance. The main characters should be given more emotional weight than the side characters.

Hanta Sero can have his cool moment no problem, but why does it come so late into Izuku's final battle??? It makes no sense emotionally for it to be there. At this stage in the story, we would expect any other major character to fill this role. Hell, Iida is sitting right there with not much going on for his character this arc.

And the same emotional underwhelm goes for so many other moments. Why is the primary character screaming in agony over Katsuki's death Neito Monoma??? Aizawa is right there, and all we get from him is a horrified face but no reaction otherwise. He fades to the background immediately. Izuku's reaction to Katsuki's death is built up so much and yet not nearly enough time or weight is devoted to the actual moment when it happens. Compared to such iconic reactions to death in the shounen genre that came before it such as Goku's super saiyan transformation in response to the death of his best friend Krillin, Izuku's reaction to Katsuki's death is utterly forgettable.

The issue is not that Horikoshi gave Sero and Monoma these moments. It's that he either weighted or timed them and many others like them poorly. No one reading MHA wonders what wisdom Sero would have to offer at the end or what sort of reaction Monoma would have to Katsuki's death--or rather, they don't wonder these things more than they wonder about the main characters themselves. Main characters are the characters we're SUPPOSED to care about. If you give Sero and Monoma big moments like what they got, then the main characters have to have even bigger moments following in order to still be impactful. But we don't get that. We get the set pieces, but we don't get any of the logical character interaction and reflection these set pieces beg for. If I have to choose between Izuku's reaction to Katsuki's death and Monoma's, I want Horikoshi to spend all his time and effort on Izuku's every time. It's nice to see how main characters interact with side characters and to hear those side characters' perspectives but NOT at the cost of the main characters interacting and sharing their perspectives. Horikoshi makes too much space for his side characters, and so we lose the detail that could have gone into important moments between the main characters. The overall story remains coherent and complete, but it also leaves something to be desired for the characters themselves. As a result, I find myself both given closure and longing for a more robust, impactful resolution for the main characters.

tl;dr Horikoshi gave too much to his side characters and not enough to his main characters, which particularly affected the interactions between the characters we all care most about

[plor-bindery]

Bound: O Come, All Ye Faithful by me (@toomuchplor)

Another bind I gifted to @sits-bound when I sent her my bind of First Watch of Night!

This one is just a quickie legal quarto paperback. I was inspired by how @citrusses made her version of this fic (bound for meeeee) look like a tiny hymnal, so I did my own take with a red letter Bible or psalter aesthetic. I loved the big red drop caps and the red cross scene breaks (which I forgot to photograph, whoops).

For the cover, given that this is a paperback, I decided to do more of a "progressive church book of the month selection" vibe. (If you know, you know.)

It was a swift little typeset for this shortish fic, but it was really fun to assemble and I was so happy to gift sits something else new alongside the epic tome that was FWON.

[felassan]

RPGsite did an interview with Corinne Busche and Bellara is confirmed to be a mage????? SO EXCITED

hello! ◕‿◕ !! cool! thankyou for sending this in. :D

Text reads:

"Busche: So each follower, each companion has five core abilities. There are decisions you can make along the way that add mechanical changes to each ability. Now, going back to your question - Neve and Bellara are both Mages, so they share two core Mage abilities between each other, right? However, the other three are class or character-unique. Neve is an ice mage, Bellara is not - so Neve is going to have ice-specific abilities that are unique to her."

Other notes from this interview, which is titled "Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s director talks RPG systems, skill trees, and being inspired by Final Fantasy XII"

"After seeing the hands-off demo, we got a chance to briefly chat with Dragon Age: The Veilguard director Corinne Busche - who right away gushes about being a real RPG system nerd"

Progression is very deep

Where Mass Effect is an ARPG which big action and 'minor RPG', DA:TV is almost the total opposite of that

The skill tree is unlocked a few missions in

Every level up you get skill points

The skill tree is huge and bespoke to Rook's class

The skill tree is almost like a gigantic spider-web visually.

(Sounds like the skill tree wire-frame they shared in a blog in February 2023..)

[source]

If Rook is for example a mage, at the very center of this is the core of the "Mage kit"

This aspect of gameplay was heavily influenced by Final Fantasy X, especially FF XII. Corrine compares it to the Sphere Grid

There is ability selection, passives, traits

Each of the specs is on the outer edges of the grid. (Fel note: Referring to the three outer bubbles in the web above? :> there are 3 specs for each class)

You start at the center and work out, in the direction you want

The specs are shown in CC like the classes

In addition to the specs the web is divided into 3 sections, for example the Warrior's are a defense-oriented, weapons-oriented, ability-oriented. "So what you might do trying to get to, say, the Reaper specialization is go… Rather than going up through defense into Reaper, I’m going to go down through Ability into Reaper" (Fel note: other outlets reported the 3 specs for Warrior are Reaper, Champion, Slayer)

Skills are unique per class

Every level you get a skill point

There are other site activities to get skill points

Skill points can be refunded

Level cap is 50

You can 'enter' the spec part of the grid about mid-game

Party members all have unique skill trees, these are organized around their individual abilities

Party member skill trees are organized around their individual abilities. "So when you unlock their full suite of abilities, each one has a skill tree full of choices where you can get autonomous usage, or lower the cooldowns, or add additional effects to the ability"

Each companion has 5 core abilities. Decisions you make along the way add mechanical changes to each

As we saw in the gameplay reveal video, Neve is an ice mage

Bellara is also a mage

Neve and Bellara share 2 core Mage abilities, however the other 3 are class or character-unique i.e. Neve will have ice-specific abilities unique to her

Elements are a big factor in combat

[source]

[mlbigbang2024]

ML Big Bang 2024 Fic Recs

Romance Category

This collection of fics were recommended by the contributors of the @mlbigbang2024 for their favourite fics of 2024 (posted in between Nov 2023 to Dec 2024).

General and Teen and Up Fics

The Cap and Bells (Rated: G)

By @cardiac-agreste (KPG)

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Loveybug AU, loveywalker, implied Ladynoir

Summary: Catwalker meets up with Loveybug after a difficult day in his civilian life.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: How can you express joy and love in 600 words or less, in all its poetic glory? 

Off Pointe (Rated: T)

By @mysticraven20

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: AU - No Miraculous, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, AU - Ballet

Summary: To Adrien, dance was just a selection of movements. A well rehearsed transition from one gesture to the next; the brush of a hand, the closeness of bodies, a well-timed duet between two people to entertain. His mother had encouraged him to dance from his heart and love his music — a metaphor he never understood, until that one day when they stopped. The pregnant pause in the combination of fluidity, finally making everything clear.

It wasn’t the quality of the choreography or the characters they were playing, it was the girl twirling effortlessly around in his arms. For, when Adrien finally found the right partner, that’s when the music truly began.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is a beautiful holiday fic. I loved the newspaper articles as a narrative device and the author conveys a love of dance in between all the fluff and angst.

The Devil Wears Gabriel (Rated: T)

By @jigglypuff1994

Main relationship: Luka/Marinette

Tags: Inspired by The Devil Wears Prada, Fashion Designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Turtle Nino Lahiffe | Carapace

Summary: Being Ladybug is no easy task; she is the leader of Team Miraculous and keeps peace throughout Paris. Other than the weekly akuma attacks, her main problem is keeping Chat Noir and Viperion under control and out of each other’s jealous hairs. Sometimes, she misses the old days when it was just her and her kitty.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has recently graduated university and lives in Paris with her steady boyfriend of a few years, Luka Couffaine. After interviewing for a position she doesn't want in the first place, she ends up working as Gabriel Agreste’s assistant.

Between akumas, a narcassistic boss, and the men fighting for her attention, how will she survive the next year of her life?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It is a retelling of the movie the devil wears Prada, (also, Natalie is a bit younger in this) I really like it because I love that movie. The characters fit pretty seamlessly in these roles. In this fic Adrian/ Chloe never met Marinette and the others. Oh and at the start of the fic is Lukanette still a thing, but if you know the movie, then you also know there is some angst ahead. :’D (Oh and I personally love the relationship between Chloe and marinette, it’s to die for!! <3)

Cookie Cutter (Rated: T)

By @rosekasa (alizeh, maketea)

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Friends to lovers, baking, identity reveal

Summary: after the start of their government-issued break, ladybug and chat noir realise that their christmas vacations are not going the way they expected.

but when ladybug, lonely and partner-less for her favourite baking competition, accidentally stumbles across chat noir's secret apartment, they realise there are more ways than one to work as a team.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Ladybug and Chat Noir bake together!!!! Gosh I am a sucker for fics where they have to cooperate on non-akuma things! AHHHHHHHH!!!

The Only Love We Keep (Rated: G)

By @nemaliwrites

Main Relationship: Audrey & Zoe, Chloe & Zoe, Marinette & Zoe, Alya/Zoe

Tags: 5+1 Things, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Zoé is used to wanting things she can’t have — loving people who do not love her back. She’s made peace with that.

But as soon as she meets Scarabella, she’s a goner.

Or, five times Zoé’s love wasn’t reciprocated, and one time it was.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It's a 5+1 prompt about an oft-derided character, looks at Zoe’s American life, and explores her budding romantic feelings. Even if you don’t care about Zoe, this is a must-read.

A Contact Named Kevin (Rated: T)

By @mysticraven20

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Scapegoat, anonymous caller, idiots in love

Summary: Marinette doesn’t know his real name, but her contact known as ‘Kevin’ has helped her out of many sticky situations.

Or the one where Chat Noir is Marinette's scapegoat.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: A sweet fic about Marinette using Chat Noir as the person she calls to get her out of sticky social situations. It’s cute and fun and original. Author is one of the most dedicated Adrienette writers in the fandom.

Phantom Pains (and other hints of you) (Rated: T)

By @buggachat

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: AU - Ghosts, Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Content

Summary: She couldn't remember anything. Not where she was going, where she'd been, why she was in this stairwell, or even her own name. But as she watched the blood pool at the base of the steps, she at least knew one thing for certain: the corpse was hers.

Getting used to being dead was going to have its growing pains.

—

“Well, unlucky lady,” Chat Noir greeted with a bow, “Can I get your name?”

“Didn’t we just talk about this? I told you, I don’t remember it.”

“And I told you,” he reminded, “that you can just pick whatever fits you best.”

—

Ladybug and Chat Noir may not remember who they once were, but at least the two lost souls can find comfort in each other's company. But as Ladybug starts uncovering more and more memories of her life, letting the past go doesn't seem as easy as Chat Noir claims it to be.

Read on Ao3

Why we liked it: Marinette DIES. Now she's a ghost. But not everyone is sad! A wonderful story with inventive lore.

Mature and Explicit Fics

Hold My Hand (I want to show you off) (Rated: E)

By @burntwaffle12

Main relationship: Adrien x Marinette

Tags: workplace sex, semi-public sex

Summary: Working at Gabriel was as easy as breathing, until she was required to sit on top of Adrien and kiss him all over.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: A story about hot mess Marinette helping Adrien during an awkward photoshoot.

Requiem for a Dream (Rated: E)

By @akumatisedhamster

Main relationship: Adrien/Luka/Marinette

Tags: Lukadrienette Endgame, Primary School teacher Adrien, Jubilation powers used for evil

Summary: Six years ago, the Supreme was defeated with the help of Shadybug and Claw Noir. But not without its consequences. Trapped in a magical coma using the power of jubilation, they were slowly tortured, reliving nightmares of their own design.

In an act of desperation, Hesperia wiped the memories of Shadybug and Claw Noir so that they could live the rest of their lives as normal teenagers.

What he didn’t know was that Shadybug was pregnant at the time. ——————————————— Newly single and broke, Marinette moves back to Paris with her six year old daughter.

She was doing just fine, mending her broken relationship with her parents and finding her feet again in her hometown. Working as a porn star had its advantages. Good money, flexible hours. Things got more complicated when she started dating her co-star, Luka. On top of that, she didn’t expect to get feelings for her daughter’s primary school teacher, Mr Agreste.

Her new boyfriend couldn’t stop noticing how her daughter bore a striking resemblance to Adrien. But he wasn’t the girl’s father… or was he?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: I love the post-Supreme reverse world and the whole memory wipe element!

A Bump in the Road (Rated: E)

By @talkstoself

Main Relationship: Adrien/Luka/Marinette

Tags: No Powers AU, Established Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy

Summary: Four years. Four years they’d been together when their relationship hit a fork in the road - Luka wanted a baby, Adrien did not. After going their separate ways Adrien spends a fantastic night with a down-on-her-luck stranger named Marinette and realises he does want forever. He’s ready to commit to Luka.

Slight problem, the one night stand left Marinette pregnant…

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: The relationship that slowly grew between Luka Adrien and Marinette was wonderful!

It's Hard to Overstate my Satisfaction (Rated: E)

By katrinette_afterdark

Main Relationship: Ladynoir

Tags: Porn, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously

Summary: "Have you ever thought about what would happen if you put my baton in your yo-yo?"

She squints at him. "Is that supposed to be a euphemism?"

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is crack smut at its finest! Hilarious concept, excellent execution.

Two Virgin Losers (Rated: E)

By @literaphobe

Main relationship: Ladynoir

Tags: Virginity Loss, Aged-up Character(s), Sexual Humor

Summary:

kittykittymeowmeow: My superhero partner (23F) recently asked me (23M) to take her virginity. I’m guessing she thought I was some type of sex god whore, but I’m actually also a huge virgin. For some reason, my lack of sexual prowess made her double down on her decision? She got kind of excited for us to platonically lose our virginities to each other and that made me panic. I mayyyy have told her I don’t want to be deflowered by another virgin, just in case she sucks at sex and I wind up hating it. The truth is, I think she’d be great at sex (she also thinks this). I think she’s amazing at everything she tries. I’ve also fallen in love with her multiple times and I will almost definitely get obsessed with her again if I sleep with her. Unfortunately, even though she’s really mad at me right now, I want her so bad I think I might die. Um… AITA?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about tit ( <- serendipitous typo): Ladybug asks Chat Noir to take her virginity. Then they tap-dance around each other, and inside each other, with alacrity, angst, passion, and idiocy.

Queen Marinette: A Royal Engagement (Rated: M)

By @hamsteriffic

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Arranged Marriage, AU - Royalty, Georgian Period

Summary: Princess Marinette had always known she would marry for duty, but she had never even heard of King Adrien until her betrothal (she would know, because she had looked up all the crown Princes within a hundred mile radius).

Nevertheless, her parents were delighted at the offer of marriage and her uncle was given the privilege of escorting her to England for her wedding and the whole thing felt wrong.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Period pieces can be so fun, can’t they? I spent a long time with my wife playing Queen Charlotte in the background of my life. She may have Netflix, but I have Ao3 and this! I win! The sex, when it comes, is perfectly written, plot-centered intimacy.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

The Texting Styles of SGE Characters

I found this in my drafts. I can't remember if this was inspired by something, but have at it. I'm open to suggestions or requests for other characters not yet listed, especially if anything seems out of character.

⸻

Sophie: Texts cinematically and a e s t h e t i c a l l y . Sometimes writes a select word in all caps to be strategically dramatic as well, mainly because most texting apps don't allow for emphatic italics. Sometimes uses emojis. 💃🏼 Expounds on things with flair, like her usual, in-person monologuing. Sometimes does cutesy things, but can be disingenuous. Spams Agatha with long, vent-worthy blocks of text whenever anything goes wrong. Intentionally obscures of the subject of her discourse temporarily, to amp up drama and keep tensions running high. (Almost the opposite of Rhian II in terms of withholding information and clarity. She can use misinterpretation to her advantage.)

Agatha: Texts how she speaks. Uses abbreviations like bc and lmao. Simple and straightforward. Uses “This reminded me of you” in reference to the grotesque or for humor purposes.

Tedros: Often uses text-to-speech dictation and also makes voice notes because he thinks everyone loves hearing him talk and because autocorrect absolutely mutilates his non-standardized 14c/Arthurian spellings. Uses memes incorrectly. Also: “This reminded me of you” but unironically.

Rhian I: Alternates between two texting styles: crisp professionalism and proper grammar and punctuation or preteen girl with a crush and an abundance of emojis. Waxes poetic occasionally. Leaves himself voice memos or texts to-do lists to his own number. Uses air drop (even though it's insecure) to send School-wide messages.

Rafal: Never spares a second thought coming up with a proper greeting unless it's Sophie. Alternatively, he has “do not disturb” perpetually turned on for everyone but Rhian. Texts "too formally," like an old man, with proper grammar and punctuation. Texts like people email as he uses paragraph breaks. He did not realize he could swipe to see dates, so he just manually writes out the date for every conversation for his own reference. No one has bothered to inform him. He signs off with "RM" every time and later finds out he can create an automatic text message signature as he would do for emails and enables it. It saves time. Has autocorrect turned off. To communicate anything quickly to students, sometimes, he just drops a curt message in the subject line of an email and leaves the body of the email blank. Blocks people with seemingly no provocation. Rereads the texts from James or Sophie in secret when they are gone to remember their words verbatim and then deletes the evidence.

Rhian II: Also has autocorrect turned off. Never sends walls of incoherent text. Intentionally makes his texts digestible and quotable. Texts how one might speak, with short, cumulative thoughts. By taking care to directly name subjects, he ensures that everything he texts will make sense and reflect well on himself, even if screenshotted and taken out of context/leaked. Occasionally makes strategic but understandable or reasonably realistic typos to appear like he's a common, everyman type of fellow. Always "corrects" himself afterwards. Texts unknown numbers at random for the express purpose of campaigning.

Japeth: Cold sends links with no context. Gets himself blocked because he seems shady. If he ever sends voicemails, they're just of creepy silence since he intends to threaten/intimidate without actually being caught or leaving proof of his writing style/voice.

Aric: Monosyllabic replies usually or just "ok."

August Sader: Leaves everyone on “read.” Calls them instead, obviously.

Peter Pan: Keyboard smashes.

Midas: Takes ages to respond, but always does, and leaves people on “read” in the meantime. Otherwise, sometimes responds with headlines or Wikipedia articles as a sarcastic joke format.

Hort: Spam messages, like, 42 times in a row…

Kiko: Sends flowery ~Good Morning~ memes and uses emojis created from letters and punctuation marks.

Merlin: Literally doesn't own a phone. Probably lives off the grid. Idk, let’s say he uses smoke signals. /j

Nimue: Does have a phone, but has no contacts.

[notwhelmedyet]

A Fire Shall Be Woken, by Ealcynn. A pair of bindings using the K118 structure, one as a gift for the author and one to keep.

Chapter page illustrations are by Alphonse Mucha, all other illustrations are hand-drawn.

I hope to make a long post later explaining the process in more depth & another to document all my mistakes, but here's the basics.

New techniques learned: Paper marbling, edge marbling, uncial calligraphy, making paste papers, drawing on bookcloth, making paste-filled cloth, fold-out maps

I began work on this project in early September and am completing the finishing touches this week.

Structures:

Binding: K118 tightback

Endpapers: Simple cloth-joined endpapers

Map fold: Turkish map fold

Materials:

Sewing supports: linen tapes

Thread: 30/3 linen thread

Spine lining: Medium weight kozo tissue bonded to linen fabric

Interior paper: Hammermill Ivory, 11x17, hand-cut to 8.5x11

Endpapers: Blick sulphite paper hand-marbled, with masked stenciled silhouettes created with freezer paper

Adhesives: Jade PVA, wheat starch paste, wheat flour paste

Covers: Davey board, laminated full thickness to half thickness

Cover fabric: Studio E shot cottons in Jungle and Emerald; filled with wheat starch paste

Cover decorations: Speedball india ink and Dr. Ph. Martin's calligraphy ink in Copperplate Gold

Inks for maps and illustrations: Speedball black india ink and a selection of watercolors thickened with gum arabic

Dip pens used for calligraphy: Combination of Brause calligraphy nibs and Leonardt tape nibs

Dip pens used for illustration: Nikko G pointed pen nib

Typesetting:

Typesetting program: Scribus 1.5.5

Body font: Coelacanth in 10 pt caption weight

Headings, titles, chapter titles, drop caps: Hand lettered uncial calligraphy, scanned

Illustrations and References:

Frames on colophon, copyright, author's notes and title page: Hand drawn, with inspiration taken from the vellucent bindings of Cedric Chivers

Frames that illustrate each chapter start: Alphonse Mucha from Cloches de Noël et de Pâques

Cover illustrations: Referenced from a photograph of an European beech tree found on iNaturalist.org

Maps of Imladris: Hand drafted with inspiration from the maps of Barbara Strachey, and Daniel Reeve

Map of Eriador: Traced from a map by Karen Wynn Fonstad, with edits made to coordinate with the geography of the fic

Frames on maps: Referenced from a drawing by Alphonse Mucha that @zhalfirin found for me

Special Thank Yous:

To the tightback council of problem-solvers in the Renegade server: Zhalfirin, Eka, @spockandawe who helped figure out many issues with the structure and technique

To the marbling experts in the Renegade server: Marissa, Aether, AGlance, Jenny, Catz, Badgertide, Rhi, and everyone else who helped me figure out beginnner marbling

To Spock for finding the K118 structure and introducing it to the server!

And to Bruce Levy, who discovered the method and shared his discoveries freely with the bookbinding and conservation world.

[boba-beom]

me running full speed to your inbox because you said taehyun (it’s me the full time taehyun simp)

fratboy football player taehyun x cheerleader!reader 😁😁😁 (i know he’s more of a soccer guy but BARE W MEEE)

honestly football players txt all of them… sookai ate this up in ways i can’t even describe

good girl cheerleader reader who’s a little ditzy but she’s so sweet n sugary… tutoring w/ football player tyun who’s also top of his classes cos he’s just so smart hehe .. the tension at his games good lord

RAAAAAH YES AND YES LIA OMGGG YOU DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND MY JAW DROPPED 🫠

footballer!taehyun x cheerleader!reader suggestive thoughts (literally all over the place bear with me)

first of all I LOVE this concept, and I wholeheartedly agree that sookai ate up that fit but they’re a good looking group of guys who can fu—

idk what it is but when you mentioned ‘sweet n sugary’ I get it, I really do omfg. like every time the cheerleaders have a dress rehearsal you’re all out on the field beside where the footballers have their training outdoors. short fitting shorts under the cute flap of your mini pleated skirt and your fitted long sleeved bodysuit with the university’s logo and the name of the football team you’re supporting.

literally going insane over the fact taehyun most likely watches the cheerleaders, specifically you, doing cartwheels and splits, his tongue poking his cheek once he sees just how flexible you are. probably storing it in a compartment in his brain with a massive label addressed as your name in bold and all caps.

thing is, taehyun knows you’re too good and a little ditzy to even realise half of the team is salivating over you. even better, you don’t know what he thinks when he watches you, thinking he’s giving you innocent eye contact from where he was watching.

tutoring with him must be fun. he knows your ditzy, but also knows you’re academically competent. he knows that when you set your mind to it, you’re able to do it with confidence. hence your place in cheer since the selection for the group wasn’t easy.

during your tutoring sessions you’d sometimes come in your practice clothes after a cheer rehearsal—the clothes being a oversized cropped tshirt and skin tight booty shorts that leaves little to the imagination. sitting next to taehyun and he instantly glances down at the meat of your thighs while you take your books and laptop out.

occasionally, he’d be talking to you about a section within the subject in which you’re struggling in but far from failing. you just want all your grades to be as good as his. he’s been your inspiration this whole time anyway. and sometimes when you work out the questions a little quicker than he does, he lays his warm palm against your inner knee and caresses your exposed skin gently, cooing praises like, “you’ve gotten better I see.” or even a, “atta girl” 😵‍💫🫠🤯

and the games THE GAMES 😵‍💫 I just know tension rises during the games, knowing just how competitive he can be and you’re cheering as hard as you can for the home team, for taehyun. just like when the cheerleaders are performing at the beginning of the game (idk how it works I’m sorry I’ve never been to … nor seen an american football game cjdmdk) the footballers are all getting ready to enter the field, and once the performance is done you make sure to make eye contact with taehyun and blowing him a kiss with a wink. that’ll for sure keep his energy up at the beginning of the game.

and let’s say the home team won 🤭 and the cheer squad end with another performance, you run up to taehyun and congratulate him for being one of the teams best players that evening. smiling up at him with your sweet smile, asking him if you can be his plus one to the team’s celebration later that night. how can taehyun refuse?

“‘course you can, doll. want you by my side tonight, m’kay?” and he’d cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin until he slides his hand to cup your jaw, then a little lower to hold onto your neck with no pressure.

and all you do is nod with your pretty doe eyes and your pretty, perfect smile that has him wrapped around your finger. boy does taehyun want to ditch that afterparty and take you home to ruin in his sheets. because fuck the tension, he wants you. he always has.

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[autistichalsin]

Gameplay changes I'd make to BG3 if I was in charge:

(Under a read more bc this is an insanely long list)

Ability to make party changes without going back to camp; I.E. "hey Lae'zel, go back to camp and tell Karlach to come here."

Able to see companion approval at all times even if they're not in the party

Able to make checks with any character, not just Tav. You used to be able to do this to an extent by having other characters do conversations, but when they made it so Tav was prioritized back in patch 6, they changed it so that even if you click with another companion, it switches to Tav. Ideally they would fix it so that if the conversation triggers automatically, it prioritizes Tav, and if you deliberately start a conversation with another companion, it recognizes that you wanted that.

Better item sorting. "Most recent" actually sorts by when you acquired the item.

Ability to text search for an item if you know its name.

Ability to mark an item as a favorite so you don't accidentally sell it/drop it/send it back to camp.

Quest items don't count against your weight total.

Quest items that are no longer relevant are no longer marked as quest items.

Either allow for character leveling past 12 (Even if class leveling is limited to 12) or adjust the difficulty across the board so you scale more evenly. Act 1 becomes a bit easier, act 2 remains about the same, act 3 becomes a lot harder. I should not hit the level cap early in act 3.

Alternatively, at least give a reward in lieu of XP when you hit the level cap. Items, gold, a points system that lets you use excess XP to buy additional spell slots/wilshape charges/rage charges/bardic inspiration, something.

Story mode; battles are disabled, allowing you to solely explore and focus on the story elements.

Dark Urge as a companion.

Ability to change who your unfortunate murder victim is, outside of Alfira and Quill. Maybe it's Zevlor, or Rolan, or Kagha.

More recruitable evil companions. Kagha, Wulbren, and Ethel are a good start.

Halsin recruitable in act 1 or at least no later than the start of act 2.

More reactivity for story developments after act 1, particularly in act 3 when it drops to little comments here or there.

More reactivity for Dark Urge story elements in particular, especially everything related to the Orin fight.

Ability to fast travel to quest-related markers.

Ability to hook up your companions. Let me smooch Halsin but hook up Karlach and Wyll, or let me romance Wyll while hooking up Halsin and Astarion!

Change point and click lines for characters to reflect story developments (resist Durge should sound less unhinged, Lae'zel shouldn't reference Vlaakith after turning away from her, etc)

Let your love interest answer questions about you during the love dryad test. You can select the right answers beforehand, and then they'll answer right or wrong depending on a bit of approval and a bit of luck/dice rolling. Halsin, of course, will automatically know you fear krakens.

Fighting Gortash at the coronation is actually an option that doesn't break the bridges and doesn't disable fast travel into Wyrm's Rock once he's defeated.

Give the gnomes the ability to fix Karlach's engine, or at least work on a prototype.

Option to speed up or entirely skip enemy turns, coming back to you and giving you a brief recap of who was hit and for how much damage/what status effects. This would make the courtyard, in particular, less of a slog. I should not be able to finish my turn, take a pee break, and come back to the enemies still attacking.

Ability to make it more clear what your relationship with Halsin is in a polymance- keep it as a one night stand/physical relationship, make it a poly romance with your other partner as your nesting partner, or even make it a throuple. Similarly, if the latter, add scenes of your partners getting to know each other better, kissing, etc.

Don't tie so many plot events to long rests while stressing that the player needs to hurry to avoid ceremorphosis. Either drop the facade that there is a rush, or make these plot developments happen outside of camp.

Consequences for using tadpoles beyond one (possibly two as of patch 7) dice rolls. Make it so using too many will cause you to squid, no matter what.

Ideally, bring back the plot that was teased in act 1, where instead of being the Emperor, you Dream Guardian was your tadpole, trying to seduce you to let it take over.

Better balancing for Rangers at higher levels, as as it is now, you basically have to multiclass them to get any decent use out of them. After level 5 any additional levels spent on Ranger are wasted.

Improve Eldritch Knight and Arcane Trickster to use the class's standard stat instead of int or wis for their spells.

All wildshape attacks minus three of the four myrmidons should count as unarmed for the purposes of tavern brawler and other similar things that buff unarmed attacks working.

Make the Emperor/Orpheus a fully autonomous party member, allowing you to give them equipment (and allowing them to use potions/spells they didn't already have on hand) during the final battle.

Fix pathfinding for characters you don't control, and especially fix them automatically jumping back to the other side of a gap just because you had to switch to a character who wouldn't make the jump before.

Improve Fly so that it is better than Jump outside of like 2-3 levels.

Some kind of enemy-rush mode where you see how long you can last against all the bosses in the game would be amazing.

Ability to either return to the city and finish up some quests before the epilogue.

New game plus.

Origin Halsin and Minthara.

The game does a better job of remembering that Halsin isn't tadpoled, and also does a better job of not always assuming that if you're in a poly relationship with him, you want the other partner prioritized for literally every scene.

Resist scene for Minthara and Halsin.

Recruitable Aylin and Isobel. Ideally, you can also romance them and become their third.

Dye preview, as well as clothing and armor previews.

Armor scales in weight with your size, so the same armor put on a small character will weigh less than the same armor on a large character, allowing little characters more options.

Druids automatically revert to human form for cutscenes, then return to wildshape after without losing a charge.

Orin can kidnap any character, including your romanced companion, but to compensate, there are less steps needed to access the Temple of Bhaal.

The kidnapped companion is not guaranteed to be unharmed even if you save them; depending on how long you took, they might have been badly tortured and receive a status debuff that lasts several days.

Faith-leap trial is fixed so that you can actually solve it without either a guide or cheesing it.

Let Wyll dump Mizora as a patron, then become an Archfey warlock with Thaniel and Oliver as his patrons. Wyll then becomes a nature defender.

More autonomy for Wyll in his quest. You can't make the pivotal choices of his story arc for him, and instead, your ability to convince him is tied to dice rolls that have a DC scaled to your approval, like for SH.

Able to take Scratch and Owlbear home in the epilogue, instead of only being able to send Owlbear with SH, Halsin, or you if romanced to either.

Let Karlach stay in the House of Hope if Hope lived, allowing her to live in Avernus without having to constantly fight and fear Zariel.

More interesting Speak With Animals conversations. They drop dramatically after act 1, and by act 3 there are very few times I use the spell anymore, just to talk to the kitties.

Able to cast certain spells (I.E. Hero's Feast) on all recruited characters, not just those in the active party.

54. Fix the morality system for Paladin oaths so that it's more clear what actions will break your oath ahead of time.

55. Give players more chances to fix things if a character turns temporarily hostile. I shouldn't lose a vendor, quest, etc for good because of a failed persuasion roll. There should be one more chance to fix it.

56. More deities for players to choose from; if not for Clerics, at least add more at the Stormshore Tabernacle. Ideally, allow even other classes to talk about having a favored deity, as most in the Realms do, and it would be interesting to, for example, be a Ranger, worship Mielikki, and have dialogue with Halsin, Jaheira, and Minsc.

57. Act 3 gets more unique music instead of largely reusing tunes from acts 1 and 2.

58. More companions so that every race and every class has representation.

59. Elves act more elven. Halsin and Astarion can have conversations in Elvish. Arnell is not confused by Shadowheart choosing her own name.

60. Free healing by Halsin. He is a world-renowned healer and would be great to see him use it more. Also, more shown of him researching medical conditions, helping sick/injured civilians in Baldur's Gate, etc.

61. The Shadow Curse breaks as soon as Ketheric dies or Thaniel and Oiver are reunited, whichever comes later, so the player can see the lands not influenced by the curse. Move the cutscene that plays on leaving the lands to this point, just without the bit of the party leaving the land.

62. Ability to save Art Cullagh so he won't die shortly after the game ends.

63. After you defend Halsin's portal, you get to play a side-quest where Halsin fights through the Shadowfell, finds Thaniel, and fights his way back. OR, you can delegate the portal defense to your other party members, and join Halsin in the Shadowfell to help him find Thaniel.

64. Introduce a weather system and a day/night system.

65. When you knock out a character using non-lethal attacks, the character is actually treated as alive, letting it be used outside of Minthara, Minsc, and Alfira.

66. Scene of Withers telling the players who he really is. Dark Urge players can become Withers' Chosen after they reject Bhaal, while Tav and non-Shadowheart Origins can be it from earlier on, maybe a scene early in act 2, and Shadowheart can be it after turning from Shar.

67. The Dark Urge's Urge manifests in battle, causing them to sometimes waste an action torturing a victim who's already been downed, or to turn hostile on allied characters.

68. More references to the Dark Urge being chronically ill as a result of their brain injury- this is brought up periodically in act 1 and then dropped for the most part. This could even lead to scenes of romanced characters comforting them when they have a headache or fainting spells.

69. More intra-party conflicts besides SH and Lae'zel, and the possible Halsin-Minthara ultimatum. Let the evil characters get angry at Gale for wasting magical items and try to kick him out.

70. Implement the Halsin-Minthara ultimatum, but don't make it an ultimatum; instead Halsin simply signals his intention to leave, and if you want him instead of Minthara, you bring up sending her away. Also make it clear that the Absolute still hunts Halsin for what happened in the Grove and for fighting Ketheric 100 years ago, showing that even without a tadpole, he has stakes in this too. Also make it clearer that Minthara is severely triggering his past trauma with all her pro-slavery talk, possibly causing him to gain a status debuff if he's near her. That way people will stop demonizing Halsin there will be more of a feeling of balance in the ultimatum.

71. Ability to rescue children (particularly the orphaned ones in act 3) and bring them back to camp for Halsin and/or Jaheira to mother.

72. When you're in the final battle, the companions who aren't fighting at your side are instead on a sidequest evacuating the city and fighting the mindflayers who are terrorizing the citizens. Alternatively, just for this one battle, you can bring all your recruited companions with you (it would certainly help make that courtyard fight more balanced if you aren't using invisibility potions).

73. Platonic paths get just as much weight as romantic ones. You can become Karlach's best friend forever and go on friendly outings with her. You can train with Lae'zel. Etc.

74. Setting for romance/sexual encoutners/offers to be turned off entirely.

75. Explorer difficulty allows you to multiclass still.

76. More quests for evil players.

77. Every romanceable character has at least one action that will cause them to break up with you, and every companion has one that will cause them to leave the party (outside of sinking approval to -40).

78. Option to turn on a "confirm action" button, so that accidentally clicking on an item in red that's right next to a communal use item doesn't get you aggro'd.

79. Optional choice to add in random encounters.

80. Reintroduce class-specific tadpole powers from Early Access.

81. Ability to help people in the city more; you can offer refugees shelter at your camp, feed or pay all beggars, etc. Telling the rich they suck for not helping is great but I want to be able to do more.

82. Sidequest for that Druid who's trying to save the dying tree in Baldur's Gate, ideally with special Halsin and Jaheira interactions.

83. More conversations like the one with Halsin and Jaheira in act 2, where controlling a character lets you talk to another and unlock special dialogues you don't otherwise get.

84. The circus is now a proper carnival, including magic-fueled rides, treatos, and a tunnel of love. Also, the Bhaalists are trying to interfere with the rides and get people killed, which you have to stop.

85. You have the option to tell owlbear cub that you don't want to give him the potion to make him grow faster because he deserves to stay a cub and grow naturally.

86. You can give companions little gifts, like SH with the night orchid. You can give Halsin his pipe back.

87. You can choose to join a companion in the endgame even if you haven't romanced them. You can move to Halsin's commune or keep Astarion company in the Underdark.

88. Ability to evict companions from your camp at any time, with a corresponding chewing out from the companions who stayed unless you have a really good reason for it.

89. Bring back the datamined bits where companions who left your party would later show up in the courtyard battle, tadpoled (if not already) and under the Absolute's control. (Maybe with a scene showing how it happened, including the tadpoling for Halsin and Jaheira who wouldn't have been infected before).

90. Bring back the datamined scenes from the morphic pool where the netherbrain would make the party have hallucinations corresponding to their insecurities. Including the option to comfort them after, especially your romanced partner.

91. Optional ability to cook meals yourself, maybe with a little cooking minigame like Pokemon has. Different foods can give you different status benefits the next day.

92. Ability to travel back to any act at any time before the final point of no return.

93. Act 1's point of no return is either entering the Underdark or the Mountain Pass, or entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands, but not either entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands from the Underdark or entering the Mountain Pass.

94. A gardening mechanic for edible plants and such would be fun, so you could have a steady supply of camp supplies and certain alchemy ingredients. Especially mushrooms since Minthara literally has her own mushroom farm.

95. Camp library so you can keep all your books, notes, and letters in one space to read without cluttering up your traveller's chest.

96. Alternatively, there are multiple traveller's chests for different items. Armors and weapons in one, scrolls, potions and other magical items in another, food and alchemy supplies in another, etc.

97. Ability to take care of and comfort characters who've been poisoned, infected with contagion, etc.

98. Let Halsin, SH, and the player cuddle more animals.

99. Every class gets a unique camp follower a la the Oathbreaker Knight.

100. Vendor of common things (animal speaking potions, some alchemy ingredients, camp supplies) in camp for the whole game.

[coyoteincense]

so, you want to try some fragrances, but the big houses are pretty expensive

…here's some indie companies worth a try! they will generally be more affordable, and they also offer some unique fragrances that bigger houses might not have tried yet. remember to consider getting a sample of anything before blind buying a larger bottle!

deep midnight perfumes - incredible selection of perfume oils with a specific focus of folktales, high fantasy, goth/vampire vibes and retro inspiration, but there are plenty of options and themed sets as well

pulp fragrance - i love the general whimsigoth retro book cover aesthetic of theirs, but pulp fragrance also delivers on unique fragrances and realistic nature scents. their scent index is sure to have something you're looking for! fragrances come in roll-on and wand cap samples. amazing longevity from my experience as well

mad labs studios - very fun and well-made fandom inspired fragrances! right now they have fallout, baldur's gate 3, the last of us, resident evil, and much more. i was gifted the astarion fragrance and it genuinely smells so good. they also have wax melts!

alkemia perfumes - established in 2009 and still kicking, alkemia has an insane amount of unique options to try from for very reasonable prices. they're a very reputable indie company. their perfume list is crazy long and full of great options

groovygalaxy - a fragrance etsy shop with cryptid creature inspiration. i've gotten a sample for mothman mall specifically and enjoyed it more than i thought i would!

andromeda's curse - a really good indie shop with very nice custom sample packs. honestly really good projection of their notes, they know how to really balance a fragrance and let each note have their time to shine

lovesick witchery - i like a lot of these, babydoll head really threw me for a loop and i enjoy the more 'out there' artistic ones, but there's a lot to choose from and they're all pretty solid! their longevity isn't perfect but they're fairly inexpensive and worth it in my opinion

poesie perfume - there are some really unique fragrances in here. green girl, forest cat, library ghost, and marlowe really caught my eye and i really enjoy what they make!

here's a whole spreadsheet with way more indie houses to take a look at. i have not tried all of these, but this is an amazing resource to support smaller businesses and try fragrances you wouldn't be able to find elsewhere

[thanosw0rld]

OOC: THANOS NEW IMPLIMENTED RULES!!

as this blog grows in followers and more roleplayers interacting with this account. i have decided im gonna restate my boundaires for myself and for thanos!

so lets get into it!!

from now on im gonna make thanos semi - selective!

this goes in terms, i may be picky with who thanos roleplays / interacts with!! he is not so much gonna interact with NON ROLEPLAY blogs that much starting from now. (but anons are totally free to yap and vibe away!!)

he is also not gonna rp under non roleplayers posts anymore. but he will still reblog and tag it as #thanos reblogs.

i also wanna state this goes for who thanos roleplays romantically with! he is in a closed ship with namgyu (@nam-su-gyu ) so he will not interact / romantically interact with any other namgyu blogs!

for romantic relationships, thanos will be picky about who he interacts romantically with. his main verse is thangyu but he can have other verses with other people. from now on it will be a selective! he is not gonna date someone based off one interaction! please please please get to know him before interacting with him!

i would also like to state that i have implemented boundaries here now so please listen and read carefully.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME IN ROLEPLAY!! MY BLOG DISPLAYS TRIGGERING CONTENT SUCH AS: HOMOPHOBIA, TRANSPHOBIA, PARENTAL ABUSE (PHYSICAL, VERBALL) SQUID GAME, DEATH, MURDER, SUICIDE, DRUGS, OVERDOSES, TOXIC SHIT.

i cannot stop you from following me but please do not follow me if you are a minor running a roleplay blog. i have a bad habit of just auto following back rp accounts so pls. anyone who is caught interacting with me, who says they are 18+ but turns out to be a minor, you WILL be blocked.

i also want to state. DO NOT under any circumstance's, accuse my character as someone who would SA someone. that is a hardcore no and if you accuse my muse of doing stuff like that you will be hardcore blocked.

there will be NO homophobia or transphobic comments about thanos on this blog. seriously - gtfo. i dont wanna deal with your bigotry.

thanos background for you to read! under the cut!

Choi Ha-neul was born an accident on the 9th of feburary, 2004 in deagu, south korea.

born to mother, Kang Seon-hee and father Choi Hyun-seok. she was rasied by her father as her mother left when she was two years old.her father, hyun-seok was a intimidating and powerful man.

leader of a well known gang that took part in raids and murders. ha-neul didnt really know much about the gang. other than the fact one of her dads gang members, deok-su? had a kid too.

roughly around the same age.ha-neul loved music as a kid. inspired by lots of rappers and idols. she used to love collecting action figures and comic books that unfortunately were burnt and thrown away by her father.ha-neul knew she wasnt like the other girls in her grade. she knew she was different from the moment she gained awareness. it started small. researching and finding..people like her. people who felt like..her. it wasnt until ha-neul found the word. 

transgender.

growing up in her teenage years, she was quite rebellious. always getting into trouble with police. shoplifting, robbery, harassing police. she was a wild child. always doing something. visiting numerous house parties, ha-neul watched her first rap battle. two guys she didnt really know-nor cared for.

the two of them were in the living room, spitting bars over the sound of bass boosted music.she was quite the stubborn person. she was intrigued. yet it'll always stick with her. the word some random drunk guy said to her.

"girls cant do rap. i don't even know why you're here."oh how she'd prove that guy wrong.she decided to start an underground rap career. something small to pass time. to dive into her hobbies. she adopted the stage name "thanos." hiding herself behind caps, oversized tshirts the ability to make her voice lower and face masks.'thanos' was an underground rapper with great skill. the ability to create amazing lyrics that have deep meanings over shitty beats. thanos didnt care. they just wanted to do what they loved.

 music.

it started small. opting to buy jeans and pants instead of dresses and skirts. buying one size too small sports bra to flatten her chest. she cut her hair, she changed her name. she..he became more happier.

thanos decided to adopt the new name su-bong. why? he thought it was funny. a bong-get it? it was a bit..hard to hide this self of himself- especially around his father. the man wouldn't be at home that much, but when he did. it was like threading on egg shells. the man often blamed su-bong for everything. his mother left? that was his fault.

hyun-seok was a father? thats su-bongs fault. everything was su-bongs fault and it showed. lacking the parental figure in his life meant that thanos' didnt have much of a connection to his dad. it was more like living with a roommate. coming out to his father must've been the worst decision thanos has ever made, yet the best one as well. he will never forget the words his father said to him.

the scars that litter his body because of it. the distant fear always settling within his stomach.

the boy was homeless shortly after that. the 17 year old being kicked out by his father. part oh su-bong was glad he was gone from his father, but the other part was upset- hurt and betrayed.su-bong wasnt no quitter.

he would sleep in his car for days on end. sneak his way into mcdonalds and sleep in the toilets. he would even go lengths to even sell his body for a hotel room. su-bong ended up making his way to seoul from deagu.

meeting a boy called namgyu who worked in a bar called club pentagon. he offered su-bong a slot for an open mic session. that was the start of their...journey? su-bong and namgyu grew closer after that.

namgyu giving a share of pills and needles to su-bong which got him addicted. the two of them became a duo. wherever namgyu is, su-bong isnt that far away.su-bong took comfort in namgyu and his presence. seeming like the first person to accept the boy for who he was. sticking with him as he gained more popularity from people. su-bong often slept over and crashed at namgyus place in return for some drugs that su-bong would get from a junkie dealer he befriended one night.

he became the mans loyal customer. sleeping on namgyus couch was pretty sore. the pain in his back was evident, even if it was for a short time. su-bong managed to come up with a bit of money to get himself a small apartment in the same complex as namgyu on the 8th floor. a place for himeself to call home.

but it didnt last that long. he found himself growing depressed. mixing with the wrong people, going out drinking every night. gaining new drugs and adding them to his collection. he ended up overdosing one night in a bar and was rushed to hospital.

the hospital bill was too..much. but su-bong knew if he paid it, he wouldnt have money for his rent. he decided to invest some of his money into a crypto currency scene by one of his favourite youtubers hes been watching for a while. while someone is desperate for something, theyll go through lenghts to get it.

and su-bong was desperate for money. he needed money for rent, for his addiction. it seemed like luck wasnt on his side as the crypto failed.that meant he lost his money- he lost everything. he lost his apartment. club pentagon blackisted him.. he still didnt know why. the boy had nothing but the clothes on his back and the familiar car that he used to call home.

sleeping in his car was back to being the norm again. surviving cold nights and late night withdrawls. the boy decided enough was enough. he got out of his car one familiar september day and walked to the bridge.he didnt have much to live for anyway. he lost everything.that is until a familiar man dressed in a suit and tie met the boy at the bridge and asked if he wanted to play a game.