#I know the scenario is a bit out there

[knuckleslove]

Hey @feeelslikespace You draw for my writing / I write for your drawing. 😉

— TEARS —

Sonic’s endurance was waning.

He parried another hit from one massive flailing limb, and dashed far across the spatial field to pull the mech’s… er… the creature’s—it was actually some sort of bizarre… biomech hybrid—so… to pull ITS attention.

OR he would have, if not for whichever additional limb had slammed him square in the chest and sent him tumbling across the void.

His focus was waning too.

Nothing hurt, but he could FEEL the weight of his stamina depleting. His reactions were slowing, and his advantage in this fight—if he’d ever had one—was all but gone.

He had minutes at best.

It was a lost cause anyway. He knew that. The best he could do now was to distract and delay—to allow people in the evacuation zone at least a chance to escape.

It was his fault.

He’d fumbled a critical step in the containment plan to avoid this whole mess. He’d… fumbled their ONLY chance.

Rushing.

Flippant.

Overconfident.

Any number of words could describe his mistake.

The truth remained—dozens of people were now injured as a direct result, and hundreds—thousands?—more were in imminent danger.

Sonic righted himself and searched across the field.

That thing, was charging its beam again.

It could supposedly siphon energy from some other dimension. Worse yet, the monstrosity—according to Tails’ best calculations—seemed to somehow exist simultaneously between dimensions, and thus had proven virtually impervious to nearly all forms of attack at their disposal.

Even now—even in this form—empowered by the seven, Sonic struggled to control the battle.

It was all he could do to keep it here above the atmosphere… contained… away from all those innocent people. Injured people.

It was his fault.

He had only minutes now, and he had to make a choice.

Fail badly, or well…

Fail in… Succeed in sacrifice.

He’d turned off his comm minutes ago—a conversation spinning endless circles around him.

He’d made it quick.

Affection. Gratitude. Goodbye.

Then comm OFF… and discarded.

Now… he had to make good on that choice.

Sonic shook himself out of distracting thoughts.

The creature was charging downward—back toward the surface—once more.

Not good.

He took off, dashing down after it, grabbed one of the tentacle limbs, and HEAVED back upward. It was a struggle for many moments as he tried to slow the momentum, but once he did, he flung the beast, and sent it flying in the other direction.

He wasted no time and crossed the distance between them. As soon as he got close, limbs—metallic and tentacle limbs—came flailing at him, swiping and slashing wildly. He dodged and swooped away, forging a path ever closer.

He just needed to get close enough… he needed a firm grip on its body. Somewhere where he couldn’t be swatted away. Just long enough to… to Chaos Control it away—far enough… or somewhere hostile enough that neither of them would return…

Dash, dodge, dive—he was almost there…

–SLAM–

Something struck him from the side.

The force of it knocked him clear of the beast—across the field before he knew it had happened.

‘What?’

He took hold of his own force, righted himself against the blow, and turned back just in time to witness a blast light the monstrosity aflame in a burst of fiery explosions. The force of it tumbled him backward further in a plume of sweltering heat, ash and debris. Three times it flipped him before he found equilibrium once more.

Sonic hovered there, heaving his breath for several moments, teetering between bewilderment and plummeting adrenaline.

He didn’t know what had happened. This shouldn’t be possible. What was happening!?

A hollow whine echoed into the void around him, and then at the center of the debris cloud a literal void—a PITCH BLACK portal opened and swallowed up what remained of the beast.

A moment later it blinked out of existence, and Sonic remained hovering… staring in utter bewilderment and shock.

‘WHAT?’

He had half a moment to be confused before a brilliant light shot out from the debris. It collided with him, and sent him flying again.

Several seconds passed before he realized it was KNUCKLES.

But not just—it was Knuckles in his hyper form. Knuckles who had grabbed him. KNUCKLES who looked EXTREMELY ANGRY.

He blinked several times, half expecting his vision to change, and then tried to form words…

“Knuckles… what… What in the world!? What are you… how did you—”

“—DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN. You hear me!?”

Wha… I… I was trying—

“—SAY IT.”

Sonic stared back.

“I w…”

Hesitation caught him there.

He couldn’t… He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t look Knuckles in the eyes and lie…

Angry eyes stared back at him.

“You left, without giving us a chance to fix it!”

Sonic stared back at a loss for words. That was true, but… So what if they had found a solution—he’d still made a TERRIBLE mistake.

Something changed in that moment. The anger staring back at him became merely a frown, and then softened further still.

Hands slipped up around his temples, and then…

“SONIC… your mistake does NOT make you unworthy of living on another day.

You taught me that…

Your LIFE… your WORTH… is NOT determined by your successes or failures.

YOU MATTER TO US…

You matter to ME…”

Sonic’s breath hitched.

He couldn’t stem the sudden flow of tears that burst free, but as the moment stretched on, as Knuckles held him so tight… he thought maybe…

maybe…

he would be okay.

eclipse

[mercuryflan]

“Checkmate dance”

Just them walking around after one of their adventures.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

The first few seconds of every dndads episode: Dungeons and Daddies is RoWdY HORNy vIOLenT podcast for grownups 🤪

The last few seconds of every dndads episode:

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[buntanteen]

cockwarming dilf!mingyu thoughts (nsfw)

summary: thoughts on reader cockwarming dilf!kim mingyu :3

contains: 18+ nsfw! mdni!!

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

thinking about cock warming and slow fucking dilf!mingyu

after closing the bedroom door behind him, mingyu turns to meet your gaze. the moment the two of you make eye contact, you both gravitate towards each other. the slow movements of feeling up his chest turn into rapid ones trying to undress each other.

walking backwards to mingyu bed, falling into the white sheets with him hovering about you. grazing open mouthed kisses and licks across each other's necks. nosing against each other’s skin as he slips into you. feeling so so so full as you grind down onto his pretty cock.

slow movements of mingyu's hips hitting every spot making you in absolute bliss. the pace slowing down to barely slow fucking. heavy breaths, quiet moans and slips of whimpers filling the room.

trying to keep quiet so none of his kids hear the two of you. mingyu having his arms wrapped around you and his head laying on top of your chest. you have one hand trailing down the curve of his broad back. the other hand is carding your fingers through his hair to move it away from his sweaty forehead.

the summer evening breeze cooling down your flushed skin. the sunset view illuminating his honey skin. the warmth of your and mingyu's bodies lulling the two of you to sleep.

bun note: my other mingoo writing -> bestie fwb!mingyu headcanons

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[sugusoko]

*ever crisis era au where the pair from banora (reincarnated from another timeline?) defects early and kidnaps brings along a very young sephiroth with them

[critterishere]

Mor gun yaoi....... if u want tew ofc but stilll....

YAIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Rips off shirt like a werewolf during a full moon) I had a wip of this rotting in my canvas for a while but this finally made me finish it!!! Yay!!!!! I love gun yaoi so much!!!!!!!!!!

sorry the gun looks a bit wonky,,,, the shotgun is supposed to be open idk if you can tell tho. I’ll try to get better at drawing guns, I promise… for the people!!!!!

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[somegrumpynerd]

-Okay but some of the fears that Color has are in fact the same fears that Nightmare has when it comes to Killer.

Like, Color is worried that Killer's so blindly loyal to Nightmare for whatever reason that he wouldn't even think of complaining if he hated it. And at the start that was something Nightmare probably expected. His henchmen should be loyal and obedient and not ask questions nor complain. But now, after years of learning and bonding and softening up significantly he wonders sometimes if that's still the case.

Nightmare knows Killer well, perhaps better than most, but he's not exactly an open book. Especially when it comes to his own wants or needs. More often than not when he makes a request it's intentionally silly or unreasonable for laughs, like asking if they can take Dust to the nearest pet store and try to trade him in. Very rarely does he want something strong enough to make it known, both to himself and others, like asking to keep the first cat he found.

So.

If he hated this. If he truly struggled and fought and agonised with himself about the position he's in and the work he's doing and the life he leads.

Would he say it? Would he realise that was how he felt? Would he even consider saying no was an option?

If Nightmare asked him to do something he really genuinely did not want to, would he just do it anyway because he doesn't believe he has a choice in the matter?

The only way of finding out (besides making a blatantly difficult request of him, which Nightmare is not willing to do) is to simply wait and trust that Killer will tell him if something is wrong. Which... is not exactly foolproof or easy.

But it's part of why Nightmare hates to be around Color too much, because deep down he's more than a little worried that Color could be right and he doesn't know how to fix it.

[bbokicidal]

"Settle Here; Let Me Love You" - [B.C.]

Pairing : Bang Chan / Chris Bang x Reader

Warnings : Overall Fluff, Small mention of Chris' tendency to look down on himself

Word Count: 850>

Looking at Chris was like peering at the hardcover case of a book you'd just bought off a dusty, cracked thrift shop shelf.

The feeling of running your hands over the soft skin of his shoulders and biceps was akin to trailing your fingertips down the spine of the book. It was new to you - had once been someone else's. It was soft and offered a sense of warmth and familiarity but held texture that proved it had been someone else's before sitting on that shelf; Bumps and soft crevices of scars that held experience from whatever may have caused them - be it small accidents or marks he'd had from birth. The gentle ridges of the title printed along the spine were the beauty marks painting Chris' skin; The small print of the Author's name was that of his mother.

Meeting his eyes was the same as opening the cover for the first time; Flipping through the first few title pages that were a soft and small insight on what the story would be about - maybe mentioning who the book was written for; Why it was written in the first place. His eyes held a sincerity that likened that of the first page of the first chapter - and both made you feel the exact same way. It was a breath of fresh air, something of a new start, and looking Chris in the eye - though you had been together for some time now - always managed to bring the butterflies back into your ribcage.

Every turn of the page was a day spent with him. Every sip of coffee was a word on a page; Every word spoken between the two of you was soft dialogue that brought two characters closer together.

His smile was the climax of the story.

The wide, gummy brightness that showed all of his teeth and made his cheeks dimple in deep - His eyes crinkling, shoulders pushing up towards his ears and head tipping one way as a feeling of bashfulness pushed into his chest. The feeling it created in your own was the same as the excitement and joy of sliding your hand over the last page of the book; Reading the final sentence and slowly pulling it to a close, flipping the book back over to peer at the cover one more time before it was set on your shelf to be adored in passing.

And this book wasn't perfect. You knew that; He knew that. With the nicks and scars, dents of being tossed around and told harsh words; The subtle but apparent fraying and tearing of the edges of the cover. It stuck out on the polished wood of the shelf it now sat upon, lingering with the others.

You'd given him a chance.

Took a look at him. No judging by the cover, just flipping through the pages and reading the back to raise a brow in interest - and taken the plunge into falling in love with him and his story.

And though you could read this story over and over - falling more in love every time you spoke even just a few words in exchange with him - you would always continue to learn something new.

"... What?" Chris murmurs, having taken notice that your eyes had been lingering on him for a while now off to the side.

You blink once, twice - then offer your boyfriend a soft smile that he knew all too well. You'd been lost in thought again, peering at him while spacing out and talking to yourself in your head.

"Nothing," You hum in reply, reaching to take his hand and rub your thumb along the ridges of his knuckles. "You're just beautiful."

Chris' cheeks dimple under the sweetness of his smile, his lips pressed together and the corners turning downward in a habit he'd picked up from Changbin. He giggles, looking back down at his phone in favor of trying to hide the red tint that brushes over his cheeks.

You let the brief conversation end there. No more words need to be said, feelings laid out with just a few short sentences between the two of you.

As you peer a bit longer at your boyfriend, the adoration in your chest begins to settle - the excitement of just being so close to him dulling from a rolling boil to a subtle simmer.

Perhaps you'll look back on this again in the future - continue to make the connection after a sequel is written and the two of you are experiencing the journey of the story together - hand in hand, facing the world together under the sunlight of the blue sky instead of being alone under the white lights of a studio.

But for now you'll continue to read the story that is Chris Bang, over and over until your eyes lull with sleep and your hands fight to turn the page. And continue to love it as much as you did the first time you read it through.

[greenleaf4stuff]

Alike (Impressions From The Lindon Shatterdome #1)

(my other TROP fanfics) (Pacific Rim AU tag on my blog)

Silverscars (hinted), Pacific Rim!AU. A short scene/snippet based on the Pacific Rim AU ideas me, @illegalcerebral, @thephoenixandthecrocodile and others discussed, which can be found here or via the tag on my blog.

The premise for this snippet is: Adar is a human who got turned into a human-kaiju hybrid by Morgoth and Sauron, and in this scene is held in the Eregion Labs of the Lindon Shatterdome after having been caught by the Jaeger pilots. He is trying to both warn Celebrimbor and demonstrate/show an approximation of Sauron’s abilities in manipulation, in order to convey to Celebrimbor why – in Adar’s opinion – the humans are going to loose against the Maia.

Slight warning for Adar deliberately trying to incite Celebrimbor’s negative emotions, as well as canon-typical hints to Adar's past under Morgoth/Sauron!

For those who want to read the fic on AO3, here is the link!

"Of course one such as you, studied and well-read," the other said, eyes roaming over Celebrimbor’s form with a knowing, judging look, "would insist that you can deal with this situation by yourselves. Have you ever even seen those you fight up close before?"

There was a pause, with the inventor finally glancing over towards Adar after all; he just couldn’t help himself. Fury was unfurling in his belly at the other’s words, old hurts and doubts yanked to the surface, so expertly as if the other had cast a lure and Celebrimbor had bitten it without even being aware of doing so in the first place.

It was eerie, the way Adar was watching him, but the inventor still held his gaze. The other stepped even closer to the glass before he continued, in a low voice, "This place will fall, sooner rather than later, if you and the others try and fight this war on two fronts. Only if you let me and my children have your technology, your resources, do we still have a chance."

"I am not some pampered academic," Celebrimbor insisted, voice tight even though he tried to keep his emotions in check. "I was there, when the Nargothrond Shatterdome fell. I witnessed the rampant destruction when you and your kind found and attacked Gondolin. It is you who has no idea what you are talking about, or who you are even talking to."

"Oh, I know exactly who you are," the Moriondo said. His gaze was still fixed on the inventor, eyes unblinking, like a predator assessing whether the one before him was a worthy opponent – or prey. "Celebrimbor Curufinion, grandson of Feanor."

The aforementioned Celebrimbor stilled despite himself, eyes widening just the slightest bit. While Adar’s face didn’t change much as a result, the small quirk to his lips was enough to show that he’d achieved what he set out to do.

"I...did not expect you to be so knowledgeable about my family history," the inventor admitted. Adar already knew that he’d managed to surprise him; it made no sense trying to hide that now. "That still doesn’t mean you know me."

"I know that the two of us are far more alike than you or the others would be comfortable admitting, at least in the eyes of your peers," the Moriondo replied, he finally turned his gaze away. It felt as a heavy blanket had been pulled off of Celebrimbor. The hybrid’s eyes were unusually intense; maybe it was the fact that they seemed to glow, with how blue they were.

Adar began to slowly walk along the large glass pane of his cell again, taking deliberate steps as he continued to speak, seemingly unbothered by his own captivity. "Didn’t your grandfather and his sons play their part in the fall of those Shatterdomes and cities as well, by withholding their Jaeger technology and pursing mindless vengeance instead of protecting others?"

"That’s different," Celebrimbor replied, far too quickly for his own liking. It made something ugly curl in his gut. He could see where this was going, the direction the other was steering them in, and though his mind screamed at him that the other was wrong – had to be wrong – a small, deeply buried part of himself questioned whether he truly was. "My family fought with the humans. They were never on the side of Morgoth."

"Is it though?" Adar asked. "Me and my children were forced into servitude, yet are held accountable for atrocities they are either too young to have committed themselves, or that we were made to commit by Sauron. Neither did you, personally, withhold the Silmarillion class Jaegers from your people. But the public sentiment is that you have to atone for it anyways, isn’t it?"

Celebrimbor swallowed and discreetly gripped his grandfather’s hammer tighter in his fist, until he was sure his knuckles must have turned white and his hand began to both shake and ache from the strain. Thankfully, his face remained blank, at least. He tried to take a calming breath, and willed his voice not to shake as he made to answer, but Adar was faster than him.

"You must know, how preciously little it would take for you to end up in my place. For your people to desert you, turn on you, and insist that you are just like Feanor. Maybe it will be a failure to create a new design. Or maybe it will be the defeat of one of your Jaegers. Maybe you will take too long to come up with a solution for the newest breach. But eventually, they will turn on you, the same they have deserted and turned on me."

It was, at this point, that Celebrimbor found his own courage again. Face pulling into an angry grimace, hammer still in hand, he moved forward and stepped right up to the large glass window. To his frustration, and another feeling he couldn’t name, Adar immediately turned and focused his full attention onto him once more as he did. Their eyes met; where Celebrimbor was sure his own sparked hotly with how incensed he was, Adar’s had gone strangely...gentle, almost.

"My friends," Celebrimbor started, and got so close to the glass his breath fogged it. His greater height over Adar should have been an advantage – and yet, he felt strangely small instead, "would never do that to me. They know me, they know my character. I renounced my family and their actions years ago, and have faithfully served humankind and the Jaeger program for even longer than that. Public sentiment might be as it may, but those closest to me do not judge me this way."

At least, he hoped as much, he didn’t say aloud. It was quite remarkable, from a more removed perspective, just how apt the Moriondo was at finding the spots of him that were still tender, and at prodding them with his words until they ached.

He continued. "My family committed horrible deeds during the war, even against their own people, I will not deny that. But unlike you, they were always, and firmly, on the side of the humans. As am I."

His breath came out elevated, as he stood and stared down at Adar, who remained quiet for long seconds, his eyes slowly moving back and forth between Celebrimbor’s own. The understanding, almost pitying expression on his face further made the inventor’s heckles rise.

"See how easy this was? I did not even try, nor know much of you. And yet I managed to bring forth your anger – the same anger your grandfather carried. Whose destructive rage I was privy to, back then," the Moriondo revealed, voice calm to the point it came out soft.

Celebrimbor blinked, stunned at the implications of Adar’s words, of the fact that he might be so old as to have been alive back when his grandfather was still around, but the other continued before the inventor could gather his thoughts, "If I can do this without even trying, imagine how easy it will be for Sauron to come here and do the same. Or call forth other parts of yourself; your ambition, your kindness, your pride...or worse."

Celebrimbor blinked, and experienced whiplash as Adar spoke – the other’s voice had gone back to being almost completely placid, and while his eyes were still intense, he did not look at Celebrimbor in the same, vaguely threatening way he’d done just moments before.

For all intents and purposes, it seemed like the Moriondo had indeed only tried to rile Celebrimbor up to make his point, though the words he had chosen to do so rang far more true than the inventor was comfortable with. Whether Adar had meant them or not, he’d managed to get across what he’d intended to, and in doing so, left the inventor strangely raw, and visibly shaken.

Some part of him could admit that perhaps, the other had a point. He felt embarassed that he had likely proven the other to be correct in his assessments; that he was unable to control his temper, that his family was still such a difficult topic for him, that all this made him an easy target for manipulation.

To his surprise, he felt something else as well, however:

Sympathy.

Because Adar had revealed things about himself as well, though inadvertently. Had been right about one thing for certain, at the very least; they were alike, in some ways. He could see that now. He could see the same sadness in Adar as he had seen in himself, see the way both of them felt like the odd one out. The outsider. The interloper.

The one others would not listen to, because they considered his insights to come from a flawed perspective, simply for who – or what – he was.

'...the same they have deserted and turned on me...'

"Is that what he did to you? How he got to you?" Celebrimbor asked, and could not feel any satisfaction when he saw Adar still on the other side of the glass, this time. "What did he tap into, when he did?"

It only lasted for a moment, one so brief it almost slipped by unnoticed, but Adar’s face changed into an expression so pained as if Celebrimbor had managed to drive something jagged and sharp through his heart.

It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, and left behind a Moriondo who looked decidedly...wistful.

"Children," he said, words heavy and reverberating in the silence around them. "He promised me children."

And yet, beneath the immense sadness and regret of his words, there was something else, in the way he beheld Celebrimbor when he turned his eyes towards him again.

Something almost proud.

And intrigued.

To his own surprise, Celebrimbor felt himself straighten at that look. A surge of pride ran through him, one that made him want to preen. He barely managed to push that instinct down again, but it remained, just beneath the surface. He’d have to examine that more closely, later on, when he was alone and far away from those intense, clever eyes.

Or maybe that would be a bad idea. He wasn’t quite sure yet.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I recommend being careful when mentioning Pitayafire around certain people in this fandom.I myself don't have strong feeling on the ship(I might be tempted to ship, but I digress.) The reason I say this is that I know how certain people from the fandom are, specifically from the old days of CROB. There are people to this day, who will argue Pitaya is fire spirit's parent or something, even though there is no evidence supporting that but old popular head canons don't die easily, sadly.....

Ahhhh I wouldn't worry too much about it (appreciate your concern, though haha). I don't really care what those people have to say about anything lol (the ones who will go out of their way to harass people, I mean). I've shipped PitayaFire for years and no one's ever stopped me, and they never will. (It probably helped that I stayed out of fandom and just enjoyed Cookie Run privately up until I made this blog lol)

People in this fandom have always been so frustrating about everything lol. Every fandom is like that to some degree, but Cookie Run is particularly awful. Whatever the majority deems to be cool/true is branded as gospel and anyone who disagrees is a heretic worthy of public execution. Harassment, doxing, death threats, dogpiles, everything. All because you ship a pairing that a bunch of people just randomly decided are parent and child, despite that being demonstrably untrue, or whatever else the hive mind deems unacceptable for nebulous reasons. Western Cookie Run fans by and large don't grasp the concept of "mind your own business" and "your headcanon is not MY headcanon". Best not to bother and just enjoy things tbh. Happiness is the best revenge + I have better things to care about than the opinions of chronically online teenage (or worse, adults that still act like teenagers) crybabies lol

I never understood the parent/child headcanon, nor where it came from, nor why everyone just unanimously decreed it Good and True. Look at it like this.

A man was fatally shot and left to bleed out in an alleyway, all alone. A stranger comes across him by chance. The dying man begs the stranger for help. Instead of automatically agreeing and helping (or just helping on sight without even being prompted), like a normal, sane, moral person would do, the stranger simply watches, beholds, and regards the whole situation as curious and amusing. The dying man continues to plead for his life as it slips away, eventually offering to give something back to the stranger if he helps him; a favor for a favor. The stranger is taken aback by this, but pleasantly so; he's used to being the one holding the promise of something greater over people's heads, not the other way around. He likes this guy's style. He likes this guy's gumption. He's bold. He's persistent. He's a fighter. The stranger likes fighters... So he agrees. They make a deal: the stranger saves him, and in exchange, the man gives him whatever he wants. And it is so. The stranger saves the man's life, sees to it that he's patched up and good as ever. Better than before, even. And as for the stranger's wish... though it remains a mystery, it is known that the man is now tasked with an important duty, serving alongside the stranger in his territory. And the man is now bound to the stranger, in body and spirit, forevermore.

Where, when and how does anyone get a parent/child connection out of that scenario lol

[darkandstormyranger]

the research i did for my master's thesis wasn't as extensive as the one i'm currently conducting, trying to figure out if my laptop can run KCD II

[darabeatha]

/ When are our muses slow dancing?? Suddenly I'm laughing thinking about who would know how to slow dance, who wouldn't, who would be too embarrassed to do it, who would rather stay eating, so on so forth; they all have such distinctive reactions in my mind!

[sunnyashe]

part 1, part 2

*conversation wherein Jazz starts needling Soundwave, resulting in him trying to use Megatron's defection as leverage*

[holsten-from-hasa]

I'm always thinking about being a Shaman player.

Cause, canonically there are no true shaman heroes for the people of Wynn. Sure there's Slykaar, but he's more of a horror story than a hero.

But I think because of Slykaar a Shaman would have more issues in Troms. A random outsider walking in? Looking to help? How many children will this one ask for?

Sure you're a Ragni Guard. But that won't stop the stares, the whispers, the worries.

And without a legend like Bob or the Twains to give people hope that you can have the power to save them? Building a reputation would be harder.

Because sure, it's possible to be a blinding star of hope. But such a star burns brighter when next to another.