#presentation controller

[goomyloid]

The remorseful player

[vaguely-concerned]

one of my favorite garak mannerisms is whenever someone says something to him he clearly finds completely wild and his eyes briefly widen like

before he reacts properly. when someone tells you something SO fucking stupid that you momentarily turn into a muppet

[wistfulwatcher]

[milkywayes]

none of the me3 endings are clean or easy, which is a good thing because if there was some miracle solution that ended without sacrifice or loss or unpleasantness, it would take away from the weight of the narrative. but the destroy ending is the only one that doesn't feel like a trap or morally repugnant to the point where it's unjustifiable. you're forced to take up the mantle of butcher to achieve victory and peace, but at least you're not acting out of naïvety, you don't turn into the very thing you vowed to destroy—or god forbid, bend the whole galaxy to your will at the atomic level.

[pasta-pardner]

attack dogs shouldn't bite the hands that feed them

[queenkinqs]

okkk real housewives of the guardians of the globe

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[critterishere]

I have been working on a demon x p3 dude au infodump,,, idk how long is gonna take so here’s some small doodles I’ve done in between writing!!👻👻👻👻 war and hate on planet old man yaoi🙏❤️🌈☀️🌷

[kirby-the-gorb]

[crimeschild]

the barbie (2023) experience as an afab non binary person is just [reconnecting with your femininity and love for pink bc you couldnt when u were younger bc being too girly will get u made fun of] [feeling guilt bc u dont identify with being a girl but girlhood is so inherently beautiful and magical and no experience is truly like it] [healing the inner child in you by allowing yourself to enjoy dolls and pink and maximalism] [unapologetically letting yourself wear pink and be stereotypically girly in a society where being non binary means you have to be presenting androgynous 24/7] [getting your grown-up heart shattered and then put back together again by your inner child using sparkly glue over and over in the span of two hours] [realizing that no matter what you do you have somewhat experienced girlhood and it shaped you to be the person you are today and you will never get to erase that experience or truly disconnect yourself from it] [appreciating and understanding your mother in a way that you thought wasnt possible without experiecing motherhood]

[verucabat]

i think jason needed robin just as much as the others he just also very much needed more than robin

[pratchettquotes]

Mort thought that history was thrashing around like a steel hawser with the tension off, twanging backwards and forwards across reality in great destructive sweeps.

History isn't like that. History unravels gently, like an old sweater. It has been patched and darned so many times, reknitted to suit different people, shoved in a box under the sink of censorship to be cut up for the dusters of propaganda, yet it always--eventually--manages to spring back into its old familiar shape. History has a habit of changing the people who think they're changing it. History always has a few tricks up its frayed sleeve. It's been around a long time.

Terry Pratchett, Mort

[lambmotifz]

always thinking about how sam is presented by the narrative as “a monster”, “a freak”, “the dark/violent brother”, yet he’s the one who hates hunting and wants to get out of it and ultimately his biggest desire is to find a safe life. it makes me want to eat glass

[vonspe]

I love the idea of applying horror movie flavored sfx onto Emmrich doing magic stuff

Emmrich is pretty experienced with corpse whispering so I imagine this wouldn't happen But I can imagine things getting pretty dangerous when dealing with the corpse of someone dangerous I can see it ranging from mild nose bleeds and mysterious appearing scratches to a spirit straight up trying to speak through Emmrich if he's not careful

Agreed, all of those already happen in canon, not in regards to corpse whispering but definitely in regards to blood magic! (There has been debate within the scholars(=other tumblr users and myself) whether or not necromancy is blood magic, results are inconclusive) emmrich’s appearances in game and in the short stories have classic horror tropes gallore, it’s great!

More modern horror-y concepts to apply, for fun and sport:

A spirit realizing they’re dead and getting VERY upset about it(im thinking Audric but shit goes bad)

Emmrich not realizing someone is in fact dead, 6th sense style

Let’s take the nose bleed up a notch; vomiting blood. Or just vomiting in general.

Trying to bring Rook someone back from the dead and them coming back wrong(something like Neb but exponentially worse)

That baldurs gate animation for the Speak with Dead spell where the corpse levitates like 2 meters off the ground all limp. Just because i love it.

Edit: also non-mage Rook coming up to the lab while all this paranormal crap is going on like this

I know this went just completely off topic, we’re off the rails girls

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Ballroom dancing isn’t actually particularly queer coded in fact it plays more into tradition and has very clearly defined gendered roles associated with it - male leader - female - follower.

And that’s what’s interesting about it being the activity Eddie was signed up for by Helena, especially in relation to Eddie’s incoming queer arc. Eddie was forced to grow up too fast and to step into the role of ���man of the house’ by Helena because Ramon was by all accounts an absent father - hero complex provides us with plenty of canon information about Eddie being pushed into a husband/father role at a very young age and being told to man up and not to cry etc - machismo in action.

Helena sending him to ballroom dancing classes is likely because it was a way of reinforcing those traditional gendered stereotypes held by wider society and particularly in Latinx culture that the Diaz’s are entrenched in.

It becomes an especially interesting choice if it’s something Helena did because as well as it reinforcing gender stereotypes, she could see that her son was queer and wanted a way of trying to push him towards girls/women - encouraging him into straightness by surrounding him with girls as generally classes are female dominated and away from activities that would have him surrounded by boys/men.

It’s not about ballroom dancing being queer it’s about trying to prevent him from being queer through the structure of ballroom dancing.

[friendlyengie]

ok I’m done for now. Probably.