#i wanna rip some ppl apart

[mejomonster]

Republicans love to to after freedom to exist huh

[sunshades]

One thing about canto VI is like. I see so many people predicting it'll be about Fighting Evil Wife or Breaking Codependent Toxic Relationship and I just kinda think that would suck? If the major theme isn't grief AND love and the way both are seen as like Kinda Weird/inappropriate in the setting of the city. Then I'll be very sad.

[gregmarriage]

literally the biggest mood of all time, ms williams

[kuiinncedes]

njvfnjfhgfd

[nyctophiliq]

⋆⑅˚₊ — in the back seat, I’m yours. abby anderson

description.             non of you can keep your hands to yourselves after a night out with friends, it has to be done right here, right now.

content warnings.               MDNI, nsfw content, female bodied reader, semi public sex, vaginal fingering, fingering, cunnilingus, college au, car sex author’s note.                 tumblr kept community label this back in may and I guess I am trying my luck again so you the ppl on tumblr can also see it !!! hope you like this if you haven’t read it on ao3 yet :)

it was one of those nights that when the day ended and before the next one started, ellie, abby, dina, jesse, you, and a few other friends of yours didn’t need to be cooped up in the college’s library, learning for upcoming exams and writing essays for extra credits. it was a night to celebrate your hard work and relax, let loose and forget about school even if it was just for a little while. abby and you both enjoyed nights out like these, seeing each other in lovely outfits, nicer than what you two usually wear but not so fancy you would look apart from everyone, laugh with everyone, to laugh with each other when arriving home.

the two of you have been driving around a little just before, trying to not get caught in the city’s traffic too much but one thing lead to another with abby parking a little away from the dorms, in an unlit alleyway, maybe one or two streets down. non of you could keep your hands to yourselves, not after you have endured almost five hours of just being around friends with no chance to really admire each other.

“abby…” your voice came out almost like a whisper, and you looked down, trying to work out a sentence. but your mind’s wires were knotting as you couldn’t stop your fantasies from taking over every coherent thought you had up to this pint. in such a thigh place like this, on the backseats of abby’s car, no wonder you had no room to think, abby was the only thing on your mind. her lips, her skin, her fingers, her breath, her voice… just abby.

“i’m yours… i wanna be yours,” you finally choke out, your hands tensing around abby’s neck as you wait for her to pull away and say no, that it is too public and fooling around was where she drew the line.

abby smiled sweetly down at you, with one of her hands on your flushed cheeks as she hummed, “yeah? wanna be mine, sweet princess?” you nodded, biting your lips while doing so, hypnotized by the lustful look on abby’s face.

“want you so bad abs…” you whine as you lean closer, wanting and needing another kiss so the burning feeling between your legs would be kept at bay. your eyes slipped shut and you whined softly as abby’s teeth got caught on your lower lip, biting and pulling before her mouth slipped to your jaw. she nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, each kiss sending new tingles across your body.

a grin ran across abby’s face hearing your needy whines. she pushed some hair out of her face before burying her head into you neck, sensually kissing as her hands gave your thighs gentle squeezes. your girlfriend was more than eager to leave some marks, sink her teeth into your perfect skin, and hear you cry a little before letting a pleasant moan out when her tongue soothed the pain.

“you are so precious princess, so soft.”

abby whispered as she opened your legs, pushing the apart and unbuttoning your jeans, practically ripping them off in excitement, ogling those see-through, pretty pink thongs. the sight made the girl’s pussy above you clench around nothing, and that yearning desire to hear her pretty thing of a girlfriend cry out her name grew bigger.

she palmed your clothed cunt, laughing out loud pleasantly as she felt the forming wet patch on her palm. “i was thinking o-of this all n-night… you touching me like this,” you watched as abby’s eye darkened at your words, a grin eating away her facial muscles.

“all this flattery is gonna make me take real good care of this pussy.” abby smirked, flashing one side of her teeth hungrily as she stretched her back for one last time. she wanted to see the forming mess that you were, see how your face twitches as she moved your panties down and pocketed them. “gonna touch you now, ‘kay?”

you turned away, trying to hide your face in your own shoulder as you were already feeling fuzzy and sparkly all over your body. it felt so good to be under abby like this, feeling so small and at a loss of control, but still feeling just as special, her pretty princess, and now you just wanted to please the predator that had trapped you. if abby kept talking to you with that low voice of hers, with this choice of words, the sickly sweet tone that made your knees buckle, then you would have done anything abby had asked for no matter if people were to watch.

abby’s hand run up your flushed body, taking handfuls of your soft breasts as abby rapidly flicked your clit with her tongue. you worked up the courage to look, your glassy eyes stuck on abby’s face as it disappears between your thighs, trying your best to focus in spite of the dizzying weightlessness in your head that threatened to blur your vision. you wanted to see abby first, at least for a little while.

“you are so wet, princess, do you feel that?” abby asked teasingly, moving her thumb up and down between your sticky lips, eyes completely drowning in the stretching sight of your early arousal. she dragged your slick up to your clit and circled it once as slowly as she could, reveling in the way you absolutely melted under her. your entire body thrummed as abby repeated the motion, your mouth hanging open and your body shuddering.

you could taste it in the air how turned on you were, it was embarrassing and the best feeling at the same time. there wasn’t a single thought in your head besides how good it felt to be at abby’s mercy, letting her touch your pretty parts and play with you as a fox would with a bunny before catching it.

your thoughts were interrupted and you almost slipped off the seat when abby’s tongue glides over your fiery core, pushing into you eagerly. “it’s so fucking hot when you drip for me, must be feeling good, huh?” you nod, hardly you can but you try, unable to do anything else because there is no word that you could form with your mouth.

abby teases you a little more, playing dangerously, barely doing anything that would feel too good before pushing a finger inside you without any warning. your juices drip onto the car seat and abby’s fingers slip right in you, a gasp catching in your throat as your insides welcome your girlfriend with much need and want.

you feel amazing, and abby feels amazing as she moves inside you, relishing in the teasing strokes inside of you, as abby goes joint by join in you before even thinking about speeding up. there is a sight of satisfaction leaving you when abby picks up an even speed, her tongue playing with your clit while her finger fucks into your tight hole.

the night air is cool on your exposed, bare breasts, and you reach up to pinch and rub your already hardened nipple, your other hand reaching for anything in the car to grip, to hold onto. it is abby’s hair that you land your pick on, it feels so good, and the great view of abby’s head between your thighs doesn’t hurt either, just makes you feel even more excited and pretty.

the sound of abby’s finger moving inside you is dirty and hot, and you can feel your face heat up with the pleasure of it. you thrust your hip up into abby’s hand, your own encouraging way for her to put more pressure on your clit, to play with it, to abuse it even.

it comes so suddenly, without a warning when you feel that oh-so-wonderful knot in your stomach paired up with those butterflies trying to break out, making your body writhe, twist and turn. you shake, nails scratching abby’s scalp as you gasp and moan, cursing multiple times, your thigh muscles tensing and wanting to close around that handsome face of abby’s.

“mh… fuck, abs, ‘m gonna m-make a mess, c-cum all over!” you moaned, feeling your hot clit throb and pussy squeezing around abby as she didn’t let off, feeling your hips spasm against her before abby’s finger was coated in your warm, milky arousal, working you through your orgasm. “come on pretty girl, come for me.”

your back arched off of the little support that the inside door handle was providing, your head pushing up against the fogged-up window as you moaned her name out loud, chanting it as your muscles tensed then let go of your body as a whole. you fell back limp against the fabric of the back seats, panting with your eyes stuck closed, little mewls leaving you as the last waves of your drunken daze rode through your body.

“you are so sweet,” of course, abby knew how you tasted, it wouldn’t have been the first time she had pulled her fingers out of you and licked them clean of your oh-so-sweet cum. “like candy.” she continues her little comment, chest blooming at the sight in front of her, looking down between your legs, watching as the fabric absorbs your delicious juices. she feels bad, wasting something so good.

“come on, let’s go inside, yeah?”

[magpod-confessions]

Honestly i wanna hear opinions on season 4, cus im gonna confess i could NOT finish it (didnt move on to season 5 either lol). Got to like ep 135 & i just couldnt tell any of the episodes apart it felt like such a drag; just a slog of misery with some offhand Important 5 Minutes once in a blue moon. I hate repetition & i got the sparknotes from fandom/wiki stuff so yeahhh i just stopped listening; i still love TMA & it’s story & characters, it’s just the execution that got to me RIP

Everything felt kinda forced to me ig? Like there was some shoe-horned “humans are more monstrous than the actual monster” that snuffed S1 Jon’s fun cockiness/jackassery just to make him ? The best one in the archive ??? & all of his wrongdoings are either off-screen or justified by him being tricked into becoming a literal monster against his will (who would STARVE w/o his ‘evil-doings’, which didnt even kill ppl). Also felt like everyone got needlessly dumbed down except for Martin (the Love Interest ofc, who got 180’d from his pre-established incompetency to be some mastermind in a playing field he should have REALLY been inept in) just so they’d be blind to Jon’s situation & be mean to him LMAO

They started trying to make Jon accountable for “choosing this” & i couldnt handle it, held no fucking water to me—the guy being explicitly puppetted & manipulated as the entire plot? That guy is expected to take responsibility here? Felt like some after-thought theme they threw on top of it all. Anyways uhh feel free comment either on what i said and/or your personal thoughts on the season, or nothing if ya got nothing lol

🗣️

Ehh disagree. S4 isnt my fav but I dont think its bad. S1 Jon to s4 jon feels like natural character progression to me. He starts as acting all high and mighty to try hide the fact he has no idea what hes doing and is terrified, and then experiences a lot of ppl dying that he feels is due to him and is his responsibility. At that point his thought pattern is 'I keep messing up and making mistakes and getting myself and everyone around me hurt, so other ppl surely know better'. Hes got a lot of black and white thinking around him, which has been consistent throughout his entire characterization

I dont think any characters were dumbed down either

Melanie was always angry, she only go worse bc she had smth making her think everything she did was justified and when that stopped she became avoidant and stopped lashing out. She was still angry, just managing it better

Basira has always been Daisys no1, the person to justify all of Daisys actions. She knows what daisy did and why its bad but she holds onto the idea that daisy is right in doing so. She blames jon for what he does bc logically she knows its wrong, hurting ppl who havent done anything is wrong, but still excuses daisy bc she needs to. Bc that was a fact of her life and it cannot be wrong. In the unknowning she focuses on facts to keep her grounded and to her 'Daisy is a good person' 'Hurting ppl is wrong' and 'If you hurt ppl you are a bad person' are all facts she needs in her life to stay grounded. How she justifies Daisys actions is by saying that the ppl who daisy hurt were worse and it ultimately helps more ppl to have them gone. Not only can she not do that with Jon, as she believes those he hurts are entirely innocent, she also doesnt care to. Shes not close with Jon and she doesnt have 'Jon is a good person' as a fact in her mind, so she doesnt need to work to excuse his actions. Its all or nothing with her, if you hurt and continue hurting ppl, no matter your reason, you need to stop and the only way you will stop is if you are gone. She also has a lot of black and white thinking, gotta love the autism podcast

Martin being a mastermind in s4 also makes sense bc him being stupid is an act. If ppl think your stupid theyll underestimate you and ultimately leave you alone. They wont scrutinize you, they wont attack every part of you, they will brush it off as just a typical normal thing. It will get you ignored and you cannot be hurt if nobody knows who you are or how to hurt you. Its a lonely miserable existence but its one martins used to. Martin rarely drops the mask of 'Sweet but stupid' bc he needs that to survive and tbh he probably learnt that from needing to survive his mom LOL. Martin just knows and picks the best method of getting ppl to like him, which for him is doing exactly what they want and keeping their expectations low so they wont hurt him as much when they mess up. Honestly in s5 I see him as hes finally got to a place where he doesnt care if everyone hates him, bc he has someone who does and thats all he needs. Hes survived the worst of it and he doesnt care anymore

Part of the reason everyone blames Jon is bc he is there and he is the one who is currently causing the most problems. Also they dont actually see the extent that Jon is manipulated. Elias talks and interacts with Jon differently to how he interacts with others. All of them met Jon when he was already at the institute, they meet him when it does actually look like he made his choice, entirely of his own free will. It doesnt help that daisy is there, someone who completed their transformation like Jon did and turned back on it, and she looks like shes managing well enough. She is surviving without feeding so why cant Jon do the same? Also basira does trust elias on some level. She trusts he knows more than she does and can be an asset if used correctly, which definitely doesnt help things. Also the idea of Elias is locked up, he cant affect Jon anymore so why is Jon still acting this way. Elias has very effectively vilified and isolated jon and jon doesnt fight back against it bc he believes it as well. Other ppl are normally right so why wouldnt everyone be right abt him?

Oh my god that was an essay and I absolutely missed sooo much stuff but idk take that - rosette

i literally have nothing to add . rosette sincerely you are insane and i love that . i honestly don't have a lot of s4 opinions that i could really put down , but i also disagree anon . s4 may not have been the best , but it certainly wasn't Bad or not enjoyable to listen to . coming from someone who has listened to the podcast twice now [ and who is planning on a third relisten ] , i really do enjoy s4 as a whole . martin's buildup and his manipulation of peter lukas is honestly one of my favourite parts , because it has been said that martin was originally going to be apart of the mother of puppets ! this shows that part of martin we didn't get to see but has been there . i got distracted and don't remember what else i was gonna type um . whoops - deceit

[trickstarbrave]

WIP WHENEVER

HIIIIIIIIII im very excited to share this wip. im so mad i wrote this out of order bc i wanna post it immediately. im looking forward tho to finally being able to edit and post it on ao3 normally

i got tagged by @caliblorn and @your-talos-is-problematic and im taggingggggg @woundjob, @thescrolls-haveforetold, @wellthebardsdead and my roommate @soundwavefucker69

here is smth for moon and star. lots of lorkhan talk. some chim. some trauma. even some dagoth ur

literally i was like "oh yeah. its all coming together" writing this also its long im sorry

also here is my god!nerevar sketch. can be interpreted also as just how lorkhan appears to neht and the ppl around him

Malacath’s hand touched his chest and pain wracked his body. Nerevar could feel the blade cutting away his skin—cutting through the bone of his sternum and splintering it. It ripped apart and opened his ribcage, before that damn hand was then inside his chest. His anxiety spiked as he could feel phantom touches on his heart, a hand gripping it, long claws digging into the muscle as it continued to beat loud and sturdy. His whole body had gone rigid, nostrils flared and his breathing coming in quick pants desperate to get more air in his lungs. 

He was terrified. More than terrified, in fact. It was like being killed in the heart chamber but all the more worse somehow. He was choking now, gagging on blood—thick, black blood that was pouring from his chest, bubbling up in his throat.

And then Nerevar was overcome with the urge to laugh. To laugh besides the terror coursing through him, to laugh even though he was gagging and choking on his own blood. He knew he would die; it had been a part of his plan all along. He hadn’t known what death would be like, but he had anticipated it, at least on his own terms. And yet here Trinimac was, killing him himself. Ripping his heart from his chest. 

He had intended the first death to be slow and simple. A fading ember rather than a bright, all encompassing flame that destroyed everything with it. He had intended to bear the burden as the cause of the first death in their reality where death did not yet exist—was merely a theory. But here Trinimac was, unknowingly mantling that sin himself. A cruel irony he would be the one to blame for this. It was not his fault, but it would be his responsibility and duty.

He’d collapsed at some point, gasping, crying, and choking on blood as Voryn held him close. Voryn shouldn’t see him like this—not his beloved, sobbing and begging. He couldn’t hear his voice over the drumming of his own heart but he tried to speak despite all the gagging he was doing. His gorgeous, sweet lover, his beautiful hawk shouldn’t have to watch him die like this. Not when Nerevar knew this was coming, deep down. Not when he had doomed them both, sacrificed Voryn’s life on the altar just as much as his own. He was regretting it now, if only because he couldn’t apologize; how could he speak when Trinimac had already ripped out his heart? How could he explain he never wanted to hurt Voryn in truth? How would his beloved hawk even react to his death? Oh the fury he could bring down, how he could drown the world in blood and tears if he was pushed to the brink…

And what of Azura, his sister? His poor, vain, vindictive sister… She hadn’t agreed to help him, but he knew she would be in a rage over his death. And even the man killing him was sobbing and crying, apologizing despite his lord—Nerevar’s own brother—ordering his execution. How could he apologize to this man? To tell him he knew he didn’t mean for it, that Nerevar was the villain all along in this story? Would that soothe his grief? Trinimac, Kyne, Azura, all of the others… How would they fair without him? Tears were now spilling from his eyes not from pain but sorrow that he wouldn’t be there to comfort and love them. Ah, if only he could kiss his hawk one last time…

“Nerevar!” Voryn’s voice finally cut through, and a disconnect happened in the vision. He was untethered now, the sensation of falling back into his own body hitting him, and his ears were ringing loudly, a dizziness washing over him. There were no more feathers on Voryn’s face or on his cloak—why would there be? Voryn wasn’t… Voryn wasn’t a hawk, why would he call him that so fondly? There weren’t even tears streaming down his face like he had seen before, but his face was in a grimace, pained watching him writhe and flail choking on imaginary blood.

His hand came up to his chest as he felt around, but there was no gaping wound like he’d expected. Why had he felt it so clearly then? His whole body was still shaking from the terror and pain, unable to calm the trembling. 

“Do you remember now, Lorkhan?” Malacath asked, still standing over him. Vivec and Sil were currently being held back by the numerous orcs, though they were swearing up a storm and desperately trying to fight their way closer to defend him. Even Voryn had a spell prepared as he cradled Nerevar close to his chest, posed with the ferocity of a wild animal protecting its young.

“I-I’m not…” Nerevar began, though it felt like a lie on his tongue. He could still taste the metallic black in his mouth, the unnatural blood he was choking on. His body felt hot now, his mouth dry making the metallic taste all the more nauseating. “Lorkhan is dead!” He shouted definitively. Lorkhan was a dead god—long dead before Nerevar had ever been born as a lowly half blooded chimer in that ebony mine. 

“And yet, here you are, alive and in the flesh.” Malacath responded, his expression unwavering. “I would know that heartbeat anywhere. I would know how you battle more than anyone else.”

“Stop it!” Nerevar shouted, covering his ears, still shaking. 

“Why you deny it is my only question for you.” 

“I’m not Lorkhan!” Nerevar growled, teeth bared. His whole body felt like it was burning, just like in the heart chamber. That supernatural chanting from his dream came back too, at the edges of his senses, as he fought back the urge to vomit. “I’m not Lorkhan, just shut up, shut up, shut up!!” 

The next thing he knew, everything went black, the last thing he heard being his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and Voryn calling his name. 

--

Nerevar’s eyes snapped open. His hands frantically touched at his chest, once again checking for the wound, only to find nothing. Still, the unmistakable ache was there, however faint. 

“Where…?” He found himself someplace… Bizarre. There was stone architecture, that much he knew, but it seemed… Foreign, though they were in a state of disarray. It looked like some kind of abandoned tower, the roof having long since caved in, vines growing over stone. In the middle, where Nerevar was laying was soft grass and a few wildflowers. He sat up, looking around even further, confused. 

“Damn Trinimac, causing problems again…” Someone behind him muttered, and Nerevar quickly turned to see--

Himself? 

He jumped, panicked. No, no he could tell it wasn’t himself. He looked a lot like Nerevar, and sounded a lot like Nerevar, but there was something off about his appearance. He was taller than Nerevar--around Voryn’s height maybe? His hair was much longer too, not to mention he was wearing long robes Nerevar would never wear given how complicated and annoying they looked. Not to mention the longer he looked at him the more his appearance seemed to change--subtle ripples you had to focus on to know. His eyes subtly changed shape, along with his other features, sort of at random in moments where if you blinked you’d miss them. 

“Apologies for that.” The man said, walking over and plopping down to sit next to Nerevar. “I never expected his followers to summon him, nor that he’d do something like that…”

“Who are you?” Nerevar asked, his heart still racing in his chest. The other simply plopped his chin in his hand, staring back at Nerevar, amused.

“You and your lover--both just asking questions instead of even trying to figure it out for yourselves…” He tsk-tsked with a soft click of his tongue and a shake of his head. 

“How the hell am I supposed to know who you are?” Nerevar snapped. “I don’t even know where I am!” 

“Easy, no need to raise your voice.” He still looked amused, despite Nerevar’s anger. 

“Why in Oblivion do you look like me?” Nerevar demanded an answer now; he was in no mood to play games at the moment. He felt his heart being ripped out by that damn orc god and now he had someone playing mind games with him. 

The other sighed.

“I am Lorkhan.” Nerevar’s blood ran cold. 

“What…?” Nerevar stared in confusion and shock. “But Lorkhan is--”

“Dead?” He asked with a smirk and a quirk of his brow. “Don’t I know it.” Lorkhan then laughed heartily. “But when did that stop the dead from interfering with the living from time to time?”

“Why are you here?” Nerevar asked, leaning away from him. 

“I thought it would be only fair to show myself to you after that stunt Trinimac pulled.” He explained. “Though I imagine the fact you were stabbed through the chest once before only made it that much harder for you.”

Nerevar was trying to figure out the situation he was in, putting the pieces together the best he could. Several daedra called him Lorkhan, and here was Lorkhan looking remarkably similar to Nerevar. Was it possible people were mixing them up based on appearance? That didn’t seem quite right; it would make sense for Malacath and potentially Dagon, but Dagon didn’t call him Lorkhan initially, and not to mention it wouldn’t explain the nords. He doubted the elf hating people of Skyrim would so readily accept an elven appearance for their chief deity. Nor did it explain the strange, supernatural beating of his heart that drove him to accomplish strange feats out of sheer willpower alone. 

“... Why do you look like me?” Nerevar repeated his question again.

“Come now, I thought you’d be smart enough to figure that out.” Lorkhan laughed again. 

“Answer me.” 

“Well,” Lorkhan’s grin looked mischievous now. “It’s only fitting I look like you because I am you, don’t you think?”

This time a numbing tingle followed the chill in his blood. “Y… You…”

“Or well, I suppose it might be easier to understand if I say you’re a part of me.” Lorkhan continued. “You wouldn’t be the first mortal to be a fragment of me, anyways.”

“I’m not you!” Nerevar snapped, gritting his teeth. He did what he was best at: lashing out when he was truly scared and confused--when problems became too difficult to ignore or solve on his own. “I’m not you! I’m not Lorkhan!!”

Silence followed, the faint sound of birds chirping having vanished, the sky turning a stormy gray. He was panting from his outburst of yelling, but the screaming hadn’t really solved anything. Lorkhan was still sitting in front of him, looking at him with a serious expression, unphased. He was still in this crumbling tower, sitting in the grass. 

How long could he run from this? Daedric princes called him Lorkhan. The nords called him Shor. The strange visions he received that only made sense if they were Lorkhan’s memories, not to mention his heart--

Nerevar curled up, hands moving up as he felt a pain in his chest, clutching his shirt tightly. 

He was scared. He was scared and he didn’t know what was going on. He was terrified because ultimately, he didn’t know what this meant. He didn’t know what this made him.

Gingerly, two arms wrapped around him, pulling him up from the fetal position he curled himself into and into a warm embrace.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lorkhan whispered, “Just let it out.” As soon as he said that, tears were flowing out of Nerevar’s eyes as he openly sobbing into his shoulder, holding onto him. Nerevar never really had a father--as the Nerevarine he was an orphan who didn’t really know who his parents were and as Nerevar his father was hunted down before the two of them ever met. But at that moment Nerevar couldn’t deny there was something paternal in the way Lorkhan held him gently, letting him cry and sob with arms that felt so much stronger than Nerevar could imagine. As alien as it was, he felt safe in his arms, the pain in his chest fading though he was still distraught and crying. 

Eventually though, his tears died down to soft whimpers rather than open sobs, Lorkhan stroking his hair all the while. 

“It’s alright.” He repeated, trying to reassure Nerevar.

“It’s not alright.” Nerevar countered. “If I’m just you that means I don’t really exist!” It was the truth; if he was just some shard of Lorkhan then he had no real identity of his own. He was just a piece of a larger whole, delusional in that it thought itself independent and separate. “No one really knows me. No one really loves me.” The person Voryn loved wasn’t even real, just a false identity of someone who denied who they truly were. Was the person Voryn actually loved just the pieces of Lorkhan that made up Nerevar? Lorkhan said there were other mortals like him--what if Voryn left him for someone who was a larger, better part of Lorkhan? “I’m just a part of you, an extension of you. I don’t have any thoughts or feelings of my own!”

“Hey now, that’s not true.” Lorkhan interjected. “If you had no thoughts or feelings of your own, how could you deny being me?” 

“But--”

“You have thoughts and feelings and emotions of your own.” Lorkhan reiterated. “You have your own identity, your own history, your own relationships.” Lorkhan gently dried the tears on his cheeks, careful of the sharp nails on his hands. “You don’t have all the same traits as me, and likewise, how you act on things is entirely up to you.” 

“But then how am I you?” Nerevar asked, apprehensive. 

“Hm… How to explain this…” Lorkhan began, humming softly, trying to gather his thoughts. “... Do you know that sometimes people take cuttings from plants to make a new one?”

Nerevar did know that, though he’d never done so himself. He was bad at growing plants, but he’d heard of it a few times. 

“When they take a cutting from a tree for instance, it was once a part of that tree.” Lorkhan continued. “One of the many, smaller branches of it. But with care and cultivation, it grows roots of its own, and then spreads itself deep into the soil as a little sapling, before finally growing into a tree itself.” Lorkhan then smiled at him. “You’re like a cutting made from me that grew into its own tree. We might be made up of the same things and bear the same fruit, but you might have different branches than me and grow in different ways.” 

“... But what if someone only loves that tree because of its fruit?” Nerevar asked. 

What if Voryn only loved him for the parts of him that were Lorkhan? What if, when Voryn found out, he became disillusioned? Why would he bother with having Nerevar as a lover if he was just a part of a larger whole? What if there was a better piece of Lorkhan out there to love, or he could simply worship the dead god in earnest to get closer to the source?

Lorkhan responded by pinching his cheek playfully, pulling Nerevar from his mental spiral.

“Then someone doesn’t really love that tree specifically, now do they?” 

“But--”

“Trees are much more than the fruit they bear.” Lorkhan continued, cutting him off. “They provide shade in the sun, and shelter in the rain. They are homes for birds, and the wind whistles through the branches to make music, or even children play in the branches and leaves.” Lorkhan was still smiling at him warmly. “Even if they love the fruit it makes too, not just any fruit tree can be their tree. And if they only love the fruit, wouldn’t you prefer someone who really loved the tree to take care of it rather than someone who only cared about what the tree produced?” 

Ah, Nerevar saw what he was getting at here. If Voryn only loved the parts of him that were Lorkhan and didn’t care about him otherwise, that meant he didn’t really love Nerevar. Nerevar’s hand reached over to caress the scar on his left shoulder gently, unable to really feel it through his shirt and armor, but comforted by the knowledge it was there nonetheless. 

Would Voryn have really asked Nerevar to carve his name into him if he didn’t love Nerevar? Perhaps the rest of Lorkhan didn’t appeal to Voryn. Perhaps the other traits other mortals shared with Lorkhan weren’t the same as how Nerevar was. Nerevar wanted to trust Voryn with his heart and make this work--he shouldn’t be assuming once again that Voryn would be quick to leave him and replace him with someone else. Voryn committed to Nerevar.

“There we go.” Lorkhan smiled, seeing his stormy expression fade. 

“... But I don’t know what any of this means.” Nerevar continued. “Why am I a part of you? What does any of this mean?” How was he supposed to move forward like this? How many other daedra would challenge him calling him Lorkhan? “How can I tell what’s my thoughts and abilities and what’s just yours? How can I tell if I’m even real?” 

That was the part Nerevar was still grappling with. If he was called Lorkhan and acted like Lorkhan and did what Lorkhan was supposed to do… Didn’t that just make him Lorkhan? When he was the Nerevarine he slowly just assumed Nerevar’s memories, thoughts, and identity after he was sent back in time--or was going back in time not real either. “The future--what about my memories of the future? Are those fake too or--”

Lorkhan smiled softly, almost knowingly. 

“Oh little star,” Lorkhan chuckled as though he was recounting something funny. “None of your memories of the future are real.”

“... Huh?” They weren’t… Real? “But Dagoth Ur--the Tribunal--” Didn’t Vivec have a vision of Nerevar being killed as king? That was in the future Nerevar saw as well.

“None of it was real.” Lorkhan was still smiling, but Nerevar was sent spiraling again. 

It was all so real. Nerevar could feel it. He felt Vivec’s spear ramming through him. He could hear the hurt and betrayal in Dagoth Ur’s voice, along with the cold anger as he revealed he would never be able to trust Nerevar even if Nerevar had agreed to join him. Almalexia had attempted to kill him a second time as the Nerevarine, and he remembered fighting her after discovering Sotha Sil’s mangled corpse. 

Panic set in then. If none of that was real then… Why did he not remember his past? Why had he dreamed up such a strange turn of events? Why--

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Lorkhan leaned in close, a devilish smirk on his face now. “I’m not real either.”

Nerevar blinked in shock, only to find Lorkhan was gone. In fact, everything was gone now, leaving Nerevar floating in an inky, black void. 

Nerevar’s panic rose at that. It could have been Lorkhan just telling him he was a figment of Nerevar’s imagination and not actually the ghost of a dead god but… Nerevar knew that wasn’t the case. He could feel it, deep in the pit of his stomach, and the revelation was not a comforting one. He was left entirely untethered in this void, and looking down at his hands, he saw himself flickering in and out. 

If Nerevar was Lorkhan, and Lorkhan didn’t exist, then that meant that he didn’t exist either. Really didn’t exist. It was so much more comfortable to imagine himself as a shard of Lorkhan, living and moving on its own, ignorant to the fact it was part of a larger whole. 

A clawed hand touched his back and a sickening chill overtook him as he found himself in the heart chamber of Red Mountain once again. He was trembling as he continued to flicker in and out of existence. The heart’s rhythm was equally unsteady, stopping and starting at random, the sounds a disjointed mess. 

If the heart of the world was not stable--was not real--then what did that make the world?

What did that make his friends? The people he loved? 

What did that make Voryn?

A familiar voice called out to him, large, clawed hands gripping him tightly and pulling him in close.

“I told you once before,” Dagoth Ur began, “We are bound to the dreamsleeve together.” Nerevar knew that wasn’t right, but he didn’t know how to counter it either. 

“I am the dreamer,” Dagoth Ur continued, “And this is all my dream, my sweet Nerevar.” Nerevar didn’t like the fondness in his tone. This was a twisted version of Voryn, corrupted and maddened, fully delusional. He preferred Voryn sane and warm, affectionate and protective. He didn’t want the delirious, maddened version of him that was Dagoth Ur.

Then, the two had changed locations. Instead of the heart chamber with the unsteady heartbeat echoing around them, they were in what seemed to be a rainbow colored river, all the different colors flowing in strange, glowing patterns. They moved up and down, left and right, forwards and backwards, swirls of color that flowed like incoherent water simultaneously both much thicker and almost syrupy than pure water, and also like it was barely there as they caressed his legs. Each movement came with a strange, fragmented thought, emotion, or memory. 

“You are simply a part of my dream.” Dagoth Ur’s hands moved to the front of him now, caressing at his chest. “My most glorious, beautiful creation…” 

Nerevar knew that wasn’t true either though. It was an instinctive knowledge, perhaps, but he could tell that was simply not the case. If there was a dreamer, it certainly wasn’t Dagoth Ur. 

And then Nerevar looked to his hands to see he was a dunmer again, grey skin and all to match the equally grey hands on his chest. One of Nerevar’s hands moved to caress the scar left from corprus he got as a Nerevarine when he was forcibly attacked to infect him with it, sending him further in his quest, ironically. The scar was an ugly, messy thing--a gross mess of scar tissue trying in vain to form over an injury that wasn’t truly there, growing more mangled and grotesque by the day. Before he couldn’t remember where the attack was from Gares, as his memories of the Third Era faded more and more with his time in Resdayn like a hazy dream, leaving him unsure if it was on his chest, his stomach, his thigh, or his arm. But now he remembered it was--

All of them. He had been hit by the attack in all of those places, in different moments in time, in different versions of the same event. And in that way, it wasn’t one moment specifically but simply an event that could have played out differently, in a way bending and contorting around the flow of fate. And just as he realized it, the scar itself faded entirely. 

“Nerevar, stop this.” Dagoth Ur warned, his voice concerned. Almost frightened if Nerevar was being honest, though he knew the other wouldn’t admit to it. 

“It… Didn’t happen.” 

“Yes, it did.” Dagoth ur stressed, but Nerevar stepped away from his hands, walking along the multicolored river. “Do you doubt your own memories? My own memories?” Dagoth Ur insisted. “Just as that was my dream, this too is my dream. A dream where we get to be together.” His voice took on a facsimile of warmth and affection. “A dream where nothing can keep us apart--”

“No,” Nerevar countered, his voice soft. “It happened and… It didn’t. Just how this… None of this is real either.” The thought wasn’t as scary as it was the first time around. In fact, the revelation seemed to almost bring some relief. He dipped his hand into the liquid that pooled around his thighs, running his fingers through it in what seemed to be an arbitrary pattern, relishing in the feelings that washed over him. Like this, he could make them seem coherent. Like this he could move them until he could faintly hear a song--

“Nerevar Mora, return to my side at once.” Dagoth Ur’s tone was threatening again. It seemed that Nerevar had gotten under his skin. 

“You are not a god. I’m not a figment of your dream…” Nerevar could insist if anything he might be the one dreaming all of this up but… He knew that wasn’t quite right either. Lorkhan didn’t exist. Nerevar didn’t exist, so he couldn’t be the one dreaming. But he knew he wasn’t a figment of Dagoth Ur’s imagination, that was for certain. “... And you’re not a figment of mine.”

Dagoth Ur was in front of him again, clawed hands gripping his arms tightly while his teeth audibly grit from behind the gold mask. “If I am not the dreamer then you’re saying I don’t exist! Do you even understand what you’re saying?!” His hands gripped Nerevar’s arms even tighter, but Nerevar himself was unphased. “I exist because I say I exist. You exist because I allow you to exist.”

“Or have you forgotten your nightmares? The memories of me?” Dagoth ur changed gears now that he saw it wasn’t persuading Nerevar. “Have you forgotten the way you shuddered at my touch? Or the way I could make such sweet, passionate love to you that you forgot everything else?” Nerevar had to admit he did in fact enjoy those moments with Voryn; Nerevar loved nothing more than losing himself completely in Voryn’s body, of being unable to think about nothing else but how wonderful Voryn could make him feel. But Nerevar knew he couldn’t forget this whole mess even happened and fall readily back into Voryn’s arms, trying to delude himself that it was real. He knew he’d go mad even trying, unable to take joy from it as he tried to deny the reality he was confronted with before. 

“Do not make me rip you asunder and remake you.” Dagoth Ur threatened, venom dripping off his tongue. But at the threat, Nerevar reached his hands out, cupping the golden mask in them, before throwing the mask off entirely. 

His face looked like Voryn’s but so much older and more tired. His eyes were dead, glazed over and foggy, with only the third eye on his forehead seemingly capable of sight. His complexion was equally dead--ashen even for a dunmer. A dead sleeper who dreamed he was still alive, just as that wise woman said so long ago. 

Nerevar leaned up, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t like this maddened version of Voryn, but he knew he still loved him. He loved Dagoth Ur and mourned for him. As horrible as it was, it was a mercy for Nerevar to slay him as the Nerevarine. It was a mercy for things to return to the past so they could have a better future, one where Nerevar wouldn’t hurt him as cruelly as he did the first time around. 

Then, just as the gentle kiss started, Nerevar pulled away, whispering softly. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he even realized it, but the truth spoken in them was more real than anything else he had seen. 

“I already unmade you.” 

Dagoth Ur stared down at him in shock, before, like ash in the wind, he faded. And Nerevar was left standing alone in the dreamsleeve. 

Yet, something was gnawing at his psyche. If Dagoth Ur was not the dreamer and didn’t allow him to exist, then what was his purpose? If this was all a dream, then who was dreaming? 

Dread washed over Nerevar again, overwhelming him as he felt like someone or something was watching him. Like he was a tiny insect crawling where he shouldn’t have, about to be crushed by the figure that finally realized he existed. 

Yet, part of Dagoth Ur’s words made sense. He wasn’t real. None of this was real. Nerevar could either stand there and accept it and fade into the liquid around him and dissolve into nothingness…

Or he could insist he did exist. That he wanted to exist. That he wanted to continue on, in spite of how nonsensical it was. 

“... I exist because I will it.” Nerevar knew he wasn’t the dreamer, but he existed in spite of it. He refused to vanish and become nothing more than a disjointed collective of memories free floating around him. 

“Well done.” Lorkhan’s voice echoed, and Nerevar found himself once more in the black, inky void, outside of the dreamsleeve. “I was a bit afraid you might not be able to handle it,” He chuckled softly, “But I can see it was silly of me to worry. You already remade the world, you’d be ready to handle the revelation of the tower.” 

“Was that… You?” Nerevar questioned, wondering if Lorkhan took on the appearance of Dagoth Ur just to help him along. 

“No. What was in fact a remnant of Dagoth Ur, based on your memories.”

“My memories?” Nerevar raised a brow, as the crumbling tower and soft grass slowly came back into focus around him, real and present once more. It was more comfortable than just free floating anyways. 

“Things can’t exist if nothing remembers them.” Lorkhan explained. “But you remembered him, so he continued hiding and lurking…”

“Would he…” Nerevar began, apprehensively. “Would Voryn have become him again…?”

“No.” Lorkhan’s voice was firm and confident, making Nerevar relieved. “Your beloved has already rejected that path.”

“Then how could he exist?”

“He existed outside of Voryn. A part of him and also not. Perhaps in a way also part of you?” It was a confusing explanation, but Nerevar supposed that was in line with everything else so far. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t exist anymore--not as he did just now.” Lorkhan hummed softly again. “Now he’s merely a memory, returned to water once more.” 

“I… Don’t understand.” Once again, Lorkhan reached over to pinch Nerevar’s cheek.

“Yes you do, don’t lie to me about that.” 

“I mean I get that he’s no longer a problem since I just saw him vanish but I don’t… Know how I did that.” 

“He was mostly tied to you. It would have been very easy for anyone in those circumstances to cut him off.” Lorkhan clicked his tongue. “Then again, I suppose not everyone can be connected to the dreamsleeve and confront not existing as well as you did.”

“So I don’t exist?” It was a question, but not asking for an answer more so a confirmation that he was understanding it correctly. 

“You don’t. And yet, you do.” Lorkhan confirmed, before elaborating. “All of us exist in that state. But I made Nirn in the first place because I realized it was impossible to move beyond that revelation and actually do something about it without real growth--growth that can only come from trial.”

“... What?” Now he was losing Nerevar. Go beyond the revelation of not existing? How would you even move past something like that? 

“Dagoth Ur had a few things correct I’ll admit.” Lorkhan continued, almost rambling now given how little it made sense to Nerevar. “The trial of flesh is needed to overcome the dream…”

“Again, I don’t really understand.” Nerevar interjected, before Lorkhan sighed.

“Ah… Right. I’m getting ahead of myself.” He then reached over, pulling Nerevar into a hug once more. “We don’t have all day, unfortunately. Linear time still exists.” He gave Nerevar’s back a firm pat. “I would explain if I could but… Well, we’d be here for some time. I think your beloved is calling you.” A ringing was in Nerevar’s ears now, the rest of the dream getting fuzzier and fuzzier. 

“Voryn…?” Nerevar asked, before his eyes cracked open. 

He wasn’t in the grass, but laying on Voryn’s cot, blinking up in a confused daze. It was night, that he could tell from how dark it was in the tent. Beside him, he heard a gasp, as Voryn looked to him frantically. 

“Oh thank gods,” Voryn looked close to tears. “Nerevar, do you have any idea how worried I was?” He cupped Nerevar’s cheek, his hand warm and familiar. It felt like Nerevar had been away for ages and also hardly any time at all. “I thought I almost lost you again…”

“I’m alright,” Nerevar sat up slowly, but his arms felt weak. “How long was I out for…?”

“More than a day.” Voryn explained, before helping support Nerevar’s upper body, settling Nerevar to lean against him. “Nothing we did could wake you up. We wanted to raze that damn orc camp to the ground,” He could hear the anger in Voryn’s voice. “But Malacath said his people would assist us and that you would wake up in time.” 

Nerevar could tell Voryn hadn’t believed the prince--not after what seemed like an attack on Nerevar. 

“I’m fine now.” Nerevar insisted, stroking Voryn’s face. “I’m--”

“Is he awake?” Vivec asked from outside the tent, and Voryn stiffened under Nerevar’s weight.

“He just woke up--” Voryn began, “Give him a few minutes to regain his senses before you shake him down for answers.”

Vivec entered the tent now, his brow furrowed. “You swore I could ask my questions when he awoke.” 

“At least give him until the morning.” Voryn pleaded. Vivec looked between the two of them, and it seemed that Nerevar looked haggard enough for Vivec to relent, though he was unhappy about doing so. 

“Fine,” Vivec scowled, leaving the tent once more. “In the morning I want answers.”

[satocidal]

hi rom

i am in the DEPTHS of my grieving okay? i have lost not only my husband but also my son. but there is still chance that gege will jump out and say he was kidding so im still like 🤧 anyway

today i only wanna talk abt geto lets talk abt geto

i saw a tiktok abt how gentle geto is with like things. like there were clips of him putting down the cup he drank from in that ep where they save amanai and like i was having thoughts abt how gentle he would be with his gf??? like fuck that man is so 10/10 like...

okay wait im having nsfw thots let me flush them out. satoru (god his name never stops coming outta my mouth) is deffo the type to rip apart ur panties and now ik many ppl find this hot but i personally dont but like i imagine scolding satoru when he does he's like why notttt i can buy u moreeee

but with suguru i feel like he'd be the type to like hook his fingers under them and pull em down like JEKFORODKKEOFOF i just know he'd bring them down sooooo slowly like it makes ur pussy throb when he does it bc it seems like he's unwrapping his gift everytime he does it and ODKDKDKOFOF KICKS FEET IN THE AIR

okay sfw now heheheh

ok wait i know this man will give u bomb massages like imagine u have a headache and u head straight for suguru's lap when that happens bc this man massages u soo gently but also with enough pressure that it doesnt pull ur hair and also relieve ur pain (this idea comes bc i sometimes ask my dad to massage my head he LITERALLY PULLS MY HSIR EVEN IF HE JUST TOUCHES IT IDK HOW HE MANAGES TO DO THAT) and yeahhh his fingers are very delicate im having so many thots

Who does nsfw before sfw😭

(Dw Megumi and gojo are alive and well and idk buying Halloween costumes baby)

Smut undercut guys!!

Ok so—I agree. Like suguru doesn’t like “wasting” things yk? I mean, he may do it when jealous or angry but when in mood to tease you? He will be more gentle than usual (smn like the calm before the storm). Personally, I feel like geto is the type to initially make you cum with your panties on—like the perfect pressure or maybe like tease yku through it a lot and then taunt you about it. I def think suguru is the kind to like punish a lot- turns him on knowing the power he holds and the authority, so like he’d be the kind to bend you over and pull your panties down to your knees and tell you to keep them just there—and then he’d pound into you, exactky in a way that will make you buck your knees and before you know it, he’s grinning and talking about another punishment (he’s mean like that <3)

And yes—he’s just like perfect for comfort purposes. Like his body is always so warm? And so ready to hold you—his hugs aren’t uncomfortable either, just like perfect in the way holds you. Some times, most times, suguru wouldn’t say anything—just quietly serve you as he leads you to a good sleep and if you do end up dozing off, he will (very gently) carry you to his bed and cuddle you. And I’d you don’t fall asleep? Well that’s alright too, because now he will talk about your day and whatever has you stressed

[sailorgundam308]

okay but you're right about the petite tav thing (also idk if you know but someone's lame ass "callout" post about you being a bully and how you'll never get commissions is circulating)

like in a game where you can create nearly anything with a tav it's boring as fuck to make them look copy pasted of every conventional girl irl. ive always thought that, it's why I can't read certain super popular fics in this fandom because the tav absolutely rips me out of any enjoyment (cough, the arrangement)

but it's not fair for people to be harassing you over your opinion, it's your blog if they don't wanna make themselves upset maybe they shouldn't be lurking on your page

It's what I think. I have no interest, never had, in any media, when a protagonist is the pretty standard petite girl. It doesn't resonate with me at all and, therefore, they come across as very boring to me.

About the post circulating about me, I know about it. It was made by 2 girls who didn't like when I said I don't like pairing Astarion with the aforementioned pretty petite tav type. They then devolved into, apparently, some sort of Alex Jones, calling into question my values as a person, made up what I said and whatnot. They've been flooding me with hate messages for a while, stopping short only of telling me to kill myself. But then, of course, I'm the bully in the story. lol

It's very much their problem. Anyone following me, reading what I say, knows what I stand for - and what I don't, cause I tend to say it pretty clearly.

And I agree with you, too: tumblr is a collection of personal blogs of people with differing opinions. Unless someone is attacking or harming a real person, or being an actual bigot, it's all a matter of thinking differently about things. And that's not an issue.

You'd think people who claim to be so inclusive would understand that not everyone has to agree on things - and that you shouldn't dig the internet for content that will piss you off because you feel like going on a moral rampage for the sake of feeling superior. You WILL find content to make you angry. Thing is, some of that will be justified. Some, apparently, will just be me saying im not into X type of pairing.

Sound's pretty easy to do, but some folks are actually pretty incredible in regards to the amount of effort they'll put to go after someone they (don't know) but decided they dislike.

One of the girls saying she "took a screenshot" of what I said is from a discord I'm also a member of, and I think she got jealous cause I only posted Karlach x Astarion art and they shipped him with a different character. The other one is just a hardcore harasser. I got all their hate messages saved. Maybe one day I'll post it so people can see what kind low level stuff they said to me. It was WILD.

In any case. I never deleted the post where I said I think Astarion doesn't look good with pretty cutesy girly tavs cause I DO think that, and there's nothing wrong with me saying it. I'm not talking about any real person, nor even any tav in particular. But people like to distort shit to make waves then feel morally superior.

Thankfully, my commissions are doing great! I don't beg anyone to hire me, and as with everything else online, no one is forced to anything - commission me or even interact with my blog. There is a block function here and I use it often - it works wonders.

Anyway, thanks for saying that. Truly. This whole thing was pretty upsetting at first, but I soon realized there was no conversation to be had with thesef people - they don't want to talk. They want to tear someone they don't know apart to feel superior and "win".

It's nice to know not everyone bought into the gaslighting shit these two (and probably now more ppl) are spouting.

:)

[toxicshipsincorporated]

okay to explain the way that narrative literacy has....just degraded so far and how the "treat characters the way you treat humans" camp have exacerbated it.

I watched Blade Runner 2049 on a plane. I was a captive audience and that was the only way that I was ever gonna watch that film and I actually didn't hate it. And the part of the film that I really enjoyed and that was really engaging for me was the relationship between ryan goslings character and the lil hologram lady.

And in brief terms, I think their relationship was kind of a sticking point for me before watching? I didnt wanna see a sexy hologram fuck a white dude ya know? but it really surprised me with how that relationshp is played. at first, we are both endeared to their relationship while also being kind of....put off by it. There is something sweet about their stiltes conversation, the way it sounds rehearsed, part of a dialogue tree but then you remember WHY that is. Because she's a computer program, a product that he bought. You feel a little skeeved out by how this thing that has no choice acts like a lovesick girl and how gosling's character enjoys it. "why cant this dude date a real girl??? one that can leave his apartment if she wants. one that can say no. what kind of guy takes pleasure in this kind of relationship???" but the thing that I loved about this relationship is that you find out that gosling's character is a replicant. it reconfigures the whole relationship. it is no longer a relationship between a consumer and product but between two beings that are oppressed by a vicious system based on the whims of the rich and powerful. they are two equals trying desperately to offer each other comfort and relief from their shared and mirrored pain.

so what does that mean?

so many ppl I talked to who liked this movie, liked this relationship and this turn of the configuration of that relationship told me some variation of "makes you think about how we treat AI and fictional characters."

And like......No....NO it did not make me think about that at all. wtf???

It reminded me that there are human beings in the real world who are treated like tools, like products to be bought and sold. It reminded me that those in power, those in posession of great wealth have decided to dehumanize people and we as a society have followed suit (fast food workers, the homeless, ppl in sweatshops and factories, migrant farmhands etc.) choosing to enjoy the comforts of our privileged lives at the sacrifice of others' humanity.

And I think this is where a lot of ppl have been failed when it comes to fictional literacy. The point is not to do a 1:1 comparison. And like Blade Runner 2049 is not some kind of parable, ya know. If all you got from it was, ooo pretty colors and sad ryan gosling is sexy, then that's fine. But when you do choose to do analysis....like it needs to be informed by humanity towards like...humans....ya know? ppl are so quick to offer fictional characters, dolls, and tools etc. sympathy, empathy, humanity when we live in a world where actual human beings have their humanity ripped from them daily.

[rhymeswithfart]

Hello hello! Just dropping in to say that your different Sonic SATAM verses are really really cool and your art is lovely! It’s so pretty! ;u;

I’m so interested in these verses now. I was wondering, do you have a story, or a comic, or a post about the lore of them? They’re just so neat I wanna know more! It’s so interesting!

Have a great day! :)

Thanks so much!!! 💖💖💖💖 I'm so glad you like it!

(I actually forget if I made an actual lore post with all the stuff in one place rip) my lore is also pretty disorganized for most stuff, I'm just doin whatever, but here's some of the more fleshed out lore I have.

The reverse aus mostly follow similar storyline points to canon, with diversions due to the characters having different personalities. The satam one is based on that plot point where Robotnik and Snively are the sole survivors of a space colony, while the Archie one is based on the overlander-mobian war thing.

Both Satam and Archie reverse have a bloody war (which Julian served in as a medic before becoming Minister of Medical Science) that ends in The Great Peace, ushered in by Jules Hedgehog. However the "peace" is only in name, as the empire of anti-King Acorn is fraught with oppression and state violence. The lower classes starve while being crushed under Acorn's brutal rule. Julian and Johnny, along with several other revolutionaries, succeed in overthrowing the tyrant, but the kingdom is thrown into turmoil in the process. Princess Alicia, (anti-Sally), takes this opportunity to throw her father into the Zone of Silence with the help of anti-Sonic (this happens later than Robotnik's coup in the canon universe).

The Suppression Squad (anti-FF) is either staging a coup, being mercenaries for whichever forces are fighting for power, or just being general troublemakers at this point. Anti-Sonic hasn't yet become known as Scourge. Julian retires from his position as minister and sets up his clinic. Johnny manages the security and more actively fights against any would-be tyrants/terrorists. He doesn't have the same code against violence as Julian.

As the Suppression Squad gets more violent powerful, and Scourge starts his conquest of Moebius in earnest, Johnny and Julian flee into the Great Forest and create a force-field that makes their encampment invisible to unwanted guests. They take refugees and injured people in.

Here's some of my reverse StC lore. It follows the "Ovi Kintobor was transformed into Doctor Robotnik in an accident" storyline, but it has Kintobor being part of a very suppressive, fascist ideology. Robotnik is the product of Kintobor's repressed kindness and compassion, things that Kintobor would see as weakness and treachery. The badniks (goodniks?) in this au are like ai life support systems and mobility devices for disabled Moebians, as well as protection from danger. They're like mech suits that protect their little buddies.

Reverse Sonic Underground is based on some of my conjecture about the ppl from the Six is a Crowd episode. Robotnik was once the music teacher for the triplets. Anti-Aleena ruled over a society similar to the "Great Peace" I described in Satam/Archie, where the upper classes thrived and the average citizen struggled in poverty. Robotnik was part of the lower class, and suffered from an ailment which he couldn't afford to have looked at (also lived in a dirty-ass apartment with nasty water and mold probably). Despite this, he did genuinely care about the triplets, even being closer to them as a parental figure than their mother. At some point, his illness caused him to develop necrosis in his arms and legs (or something I'm still figuring it out) and he had to have them all amputated, nearly dying in the process. Aleena arranged for him to have cybernetic limbs attached, and moved him out of his deathtrap apartment and into the palace. (that's the backstory and I'm still figuring out how they got to the point in the episode)

[hyuckmov]

do you have a tentative sched for pt 2?? hehe i dont wanna rush you im just curious because school just started again for me and its nice to have something to look forward to so i dont go insane! love ur writing sm and i hope you dont let some of the asks get to you with ppl demanding this or that and just stick with your og plot because i for sure know thats its gonna be great regardless.

HI ANON! sorry for the late reply :(

i've written a bit more for part 2 and planned a bit more. ngl... when i was writing both parts at once i didn't anticipate the second half of the story being so long. ripping two people apart is easy, but bringing them together despite everything is way harder. especially with so many theories and asks, i've really been combing through my plot and trying to make sure it makes sense with all that everyone has pointed out, and i really hope it can be a satisfying read that follows the first part 😭 actually im considering releasing a preview for the second part, just to sort of put something here first in case the second part takes longer than i expect !!!! but i think not longer than a month :)

also thank you so so much for mentioning that and encouraging me to stick w/ what i want to write... it really means a lot to me :) this is my first fic with such divisive opinions about plot, and while i usually like to fulfil requests and morph my writing to satisfy readers, it's a little hard to do for this one because everyone wants a little something different. some feel like fun speculations and others somehow feel like instructions and it can be confusing for me to read, but i'm trying to internalise the fact that i can't please everyone with my writing and there definitely will be people who don't like/agree with the way it turns out :)

once again thank you for thinking of me anon, it means so much more to me than you imagine and this is so special to me !!!!

good luck with school i'm sure you'll do so amazing !!! thank you for looking forward to my fic and i hope YOU will really like it ♡

[ghoulishthing]

been playing a lotta Palworld recently. having the time of my life fr fr

not my pic, but this guy is my fave

i do have an opinion on the game, since everyone else seems to be saying their opinions too.

to get this outta the way, do i think Pocket Pair used AI to make this game?:

probably not. i mean, they’ve been pretty open with what they do or don't make with AI [AI: Art Imposter as a prime example] plus the main CEO/Dev or whoever has openly said he likes AI type stuff. they'd likely, and proudly, flaunt that they made it with AI or something.

do i think nintendo will sue Pocket Pair?:

probably not. trailers and designs and such were released like 2 years ago. nintendo had all that time and either did nothing or failed to do anything legally.

is Palworld a cashgrab ripoff?:

i don't think so. game was in development for around 2ish years i think, and there's actually effort into seemingly all areas of the game. plus it's early access still, so any part of it that seems 'dead' or uninspired still has time to be fixed or improved. otherwise tho, that's a lot of time and effort poured into a one-off cashgrab.

do i think Pocket Pair stole designs?:

not too sure, honestly. some things look similar to pokemon designs, but usually it's on things like a wolf, a cat, a sheep or a bird. like, you can't claim the shape and anatomy of a sheep. if anything, you ripped off mother nature, she made the design first lol

is the game good?:

oh absolutely. it's like ARK, but replace the dinos with Pals [pokemon]. theres a bit more to it that sets it apart from the two, but its familiar enough that those who come from those games wont struggle with UI or menu stuff [a YT vid could expain it better ngl]. also just wanna say, this is coming from someone who doesn’t really enjoy either pokemon or ARK because of graphics, gameplay, story, etc etc. i hardly ever get bored or wanna stop playing. im not attacked by random Pals for no reason, like how that happens in ARK. the Pals are actually interesting and the story from the journals is decent.

these are the main things ppl seem to be talking about or torn on, ig. thought id put in my 2 cents, up to you if you agree or not. all good honestly, don't have to agree. in the end its just a game, im just here to have fun and mess around lol, not to argue.

anyway, seeyas. imma go play a bit more

[unrelatabledude]

KICKS DOWN YOUR DOOR

AAAAA TELL ME ABOUT THE RINHIME UUULTRAC AU

SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE!!!

Under the cut

I do want to say as a little start here: I really didnt enjoy the second two routes of uuultraC. Shirou's chapter drove me into a mink route level depression and I hated how the third route ended. so really this is a little bit of me rewriting the bits i liked and then. making it ensemble stars.

but yes let me. bullet points some bits for u.

HiMERU -The main difference between the two worlds is kaname's death. Our himeru has been pretending to be kaname for literal years -Tried acting and modelling for a while, but keeps getting locked out -Has not realized hes a Kaiju, but Rinne knows -Kaiju stuff awakened when Kaname died, and helps make his disguise perfect -Has the worlds strangest most co dependant fwb thing going on with Rinne. He thinks Rinne is dating Niki (who knows about him) -Has a dream connection with Kohaku. They share dreams and memories -Knows Jun and Tatsumi as Kaname's friends, and is bad at interacting with them, blames tatsumi for Kaname's death

Rinne -Left his hometown in a bid to see the outside world -The next day the town has leveled, and Hiiro died. He blames himself. -Still calls Niki his wife, but its a joking thing. They mean the world to each other. Niki still took him in until he started mooching off Himeru. -Met Himeru while Himeru was bartending. He saved him from falling, and theyve been inseperable ever since. -Doesn't get the whole hero appeal thing, but desperate to save ppl. -Says hes getting into professional gambling and writing, doesnt want Himeru to read his work

Hiiro

-Reincarnation of the younger brother Rinne lost

-He's normal aged in the other world, and dies again in this one

-They're close in the other world and live a happy life

Tatsumi -Apart of ORANGE -Desperate not to fumble Kaname again. -Has not realized Himeru is not Kaname. Very forward with him -Wants to make the world better for Kaname, became a kaiju for him

The other routes would have -Kohaku and Madara (platonic not ship) as a replacement for the second route. Madara's detective agency and the high schooler that keeps saving him from trouble he gets into. Madara 4D chessing his way into situations to get Himeru to act as bait. That kinda stuff.

-Izumi and Leo as the third route Leo being an alien, desperately searching for divine inspiration as he rips the world apart. Formed ORANGE with Tsukasa to instigate monster fights. Izumi is obsessed with him, and desperate to make him better, but they keep talking past each other. Kohaku is their main agent, but has been going rogue to help Madara.

Other ppl involved would be -Niki as the hero and coworker both Himeru and Rinne share without knowing -Aira as the investigative blogger getting into trouble -Mayoi as a young kaiju that Madara helps

SORRY THIS IS SO CONFUSING AND NON-SENSICAL. I dont know how to explain myself and if youre confused or want more info i will do my best. thank you for your interest im really touched and wanna cry. sorry that its not so good. Have a tatsumi

[snowwhirled]

Mortimer headcanons cause I wrote them on SpaceHey and never put them here rip

[Contains cupsona related things as well as discussion of death and cult stuff and undertones of trauma. So there's a keep reading cuz idk if some ppl wanna read some of that.]

Trans and Ace.

Does not like being called Morty or anything similar unless he really likes you and gives you explicit permission. All or nothing.

Cannot go to hot places for long periods of time. Would not be caught alive in IV's desert or Inkwell Hell. Anything below around 80 farenheit is fair game.

Kismeses with Beppi and Moirails with R-XC (Cupsona - I'll go more in depth on R-XC eventually).

The snowflake form is most often used for cult and power reasons but is also a massive comfort for him if he ever has a breakdown or just isn't okay and he prefers it over his normal form cause it feels more like him. He's not very okay but is really good at hiding his own struggles. Most of the time.

Unintentionally became a false god after a mental breakdown. Before this, the snow cultists used to simply be travelers with no aim. When one strayed away from the rest, he encountered simply what it described as "BLUE STAR SCREAM FOR HELP".

Mortimer had calmed down eventually from his breakdown, and was approached by the aimless the next day asking if he too was aware of a blue star. He panicked at first but reassured them that "It was a word from a not so distant god" and then successfully managed to convince everybody to take his side which formed the cult.

He believed that if there was some god-figure, there'd need to be a way to reach him. It's where the buckets come into play. He always had a fondness for them in general and they were just also very useful. You could wear it, you could put an offering in it, it fit the vibe, the ideas were limitless. I could make a homestuck joke here but I won't.

He takes so much pride in being viewed as a powerful, great leader, but also as just a whimsical funny guy who puts a smile on your face. You comment on his silly behavior and he'll be just as ecstatic as if you called him god.

How he handles visitors to his winterlands varies depending on the circumstances at the time, and he is very observant of these circumstances in order to keep his schemes afloat. Wouldn't want word to go out over what's happening in the icy dome that breaks it all apart, would we? It's his everything. He can usually get interactions done and visitors gone without suspicion but there have been... Other times where he's needed to eliminate a few. Sometimes with the help of the cult.

Only once has he actually been trusting enough to invite a new member inside. A certain cuppa' cocoa dissatisfied with his life as a barista ;) cough cough R-XC

As much as he adores his underlings to death he's never felt bad about seeing any of them die. He's seen so much death in his life in general that he's seemingly gotten desensitized to it. Has he really though?

Jupiter and R-XC are his favorites. He adores those two so much. It was genuinely shocking to him for how attached he got to them, and so quickly too?

There's a graveyard nearby the dome where deceased members are put to rest. It's fairly big. Should anyone show up to the winterlands, that's one of the main things he hides from them (aside from obvious, like, cult stuff). Though a portion of this graveyard is people he's needed to silence.

There's also a small cabin quite high above the dome that the steps up to the 3rd phase only go around a third to. R-XC used to get his rest somewhere within the dome but when Mortimer found out about it he became really disappointed in himself for not thinking about that and let R-XC stay in the cabin in a sleeping bag.

He then learned R-XC's shoulders would hunch up and hurt his neck when he woke up from sleeping bags so now they share the bed. Great job Mr Mort.

Funny enough this is what pushed them into becoming moirails. Details are a little fuzzy at the moment but it goes something along the lines of Mortimer joking about "Haha what's next we're mutually pale for each other or smth" and R-XC was like "Wait, we weren't?" and it outed both of them. This headcanon is subject to be worked on and edited though.

Sleeps way too much. There's so many dreams to be had and so little time. Rip.

[pjisskullourful]

oh my , just read the little demo/little plot you created based on the prompt i suggested (Ethan/Vic/Reader poly ) and i can say i am intrigued.

I love the whole bisexual phobia idea you got sketched out, cause idk why but bisexuality is so hated by straight ppl also it is the only sexual orientation in the LGBTQIA+ community that gets ripped apart for no real reason constantly...

But on a more positive note you took that prompt beyond my expectations and if you decide to write this series i would be excited to read it.

But also you could expend on the whole 'first relationship' with a woman part, and the insecurities that come with it , perhaps that the Reader believes that Vic would choose Ethan and is heartbroken by that, before they all talk and decide to try being poly together.

If you are not going to write it as a ff, i tell you i am grateful for this brief summary on the propmpt i gave. And also that bisexuality gets put out there as a real things and not a phase ppl go through.

Love you girlie, keep up the great work can't wait for 'Over me' part 2. Hugs and forehead kisses.

oh honey, the biphobia runs rampant IN our own community. i identify as pansexual, which is verymuch under the bi-brella & i have faced erasure far too often, including from my own best friend. i think bi(& by extension, pan) representation is super important cos everyone deserves to feel like their part of the rainbow is just as bright, valid, wonderful as what the rrst of the community has. idk if that makes much sense, i am very sleepdeprived& a bit emotionally fucked

im glad you liked my little idea vomit that i gave. you had an awesome request that made some room for itself in my brain v quickly. i dont wanna guaranteee anything yet. but im keeping those notes in my book& who knows

thanks heaps gorge❣️