#romance anime game

[gwaha]

Fields of Mistria

the bachelor/ettes 💌 + bonus:

[spidehpig]

can’t stop thinking about soap being the kind of boyfriend that takes you on arcade or carnival dates. he definitely takes all of the games WAY too seriously. absolutely smokes everyone at skeeball. probably does those stupid punching bag/hammer strength tests just to show off in front of you. he doesn’t even let you win he’s that competitive. but it’s kinda funny and endearing. he wins a TON of tickets and then gets you the biggest fucking stuffed animal they have even as you protest and tell him that you have no place to put it.

his little mohawk popping around the head of the giant puppy stuffed animal he won you boyish smile plastered on his face while he ignores your protests. you’re stuck with the thing forever now.

[zenni-bunni]

It's a shame you can't find a secret stash of romance novels in his grove. Maybe one day.

[0-animelover-0]

Summary: So'lek was protective before but now that his little mate is pregnant, he grown even more protective.

(So'lek x Human!Reader)

Warnings: pregnancy, possessiveness, fear of losing child, mentions of birth

Translations:

kelku = home

ma'tìyawn = my love

Angstik = The hammerhead titanothere

Tulkun = large marine species native to the oceans of Pandora

Nga yawne lu oer, ma little tsamsiyu = I love you my little warrior

You think So'lek was protective before but as soon as he found out that you were pregnant with his child he became 10X more protective. He always has his hands on your waist or stomach. He also refuses that you go places alone.

One day So'lek arouse from his sleep and you weren't next to him. Panicking, he got up and grabbed his bow. He ran out only to be met with you laying in the hammock just outside of the kelku. Sighing in relief, he leaned his bow against the entrance and walked over. “Good morning, ma'tìyawn.”

You looked at him from the hammock and smiled. "Good morning."

You could see that some of the worry still remained on So'lek's face as he looked at you. He walked into the hammock and got in next to you, wrapping his arms around you holding your pregnant belly protectively. "Don't scare me like that again."

You can notice that as he is breathing in the smell of you, he seems relieved that you are still alright and not in line of potential danger.

You smiled at the way his tension left his shoulders. He sighed as you put a hand over his that rested on your rounded stomach. "I'm sorry, I just thought sunlight would be nice."

He looked up at you with a warm smile on his face as you placed your hand over his. His ears and tail flinched at the sun's bright light that broke through the leaves over head. "It is, but I do not want to lose you. Not now with the new life you are carrying within you."

You chuckled softly, honestly finding his words amusing. "Ma So'lek, I am only a few feet away from the kelku. I will be alright."

He groaned in annoyance as he was beginning to get annoyed with your playful attitude towards his overprotectiveness. "I know that you would be but I do not want to take the risk. You are not only my mate but you are the mother of my child. I will not take any chances whatsoever."

His ears continued to twitch at the sound of his own words.

You knew you couldn't change his mind on it, once his mind was set, he was determined. Like a stubborn Angstik. "I know."

He looked down at you with his pretty green eyes. Even if he is trying to be stern with you he is still having a hard time fighting back the urge to pull you close and hug you. He takes a deep breathe before he finally speaks to you in a gentle yet firm tone. "Please do not go far from the kelku from now on until you give birth."

You fingers intertwined with his. You knew you couldn't promise anything like that. You would loose your mind and become restless. Your lips touched his cheek and then kissed along his jawline. "You know I can't promise that."

He growled in annoyance at the thought of you not keeping the promise he requested from you. He also grumbled at the thought of other Na'vi men seeing you outside of his protection. He was starting to get possessive.

"Why not? Your health and my child is at risk the further you go from the kelku. What reason could you possibly have to go far away from here?"

"I have people and duties in Hometree. You know that." You told him with your gentle tone of voice.

So'lek thought for a moment about what you said. It was true that you did have responsibilities and people to look after back at Hometree but he couldn't fight this protective instinct anymore. He was already too worried and anxious about losing you and the unborn child.

"Then I will be coming with you. I don't want to lose you or our child. I will protect you and keep you close to me."

You smiled at his decree. At least you wouldn't be cooped up at your home. "Alright, I have no objections."

He let out a relieved groan and pulled you closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly. This made him feel so much better now that he knows that he can still keep an eye on you while you attend to those matters at Hometree.

"It's settled then. I will make sure to keep a close eye on you and keep you safe from any danger."

A few minutes passed and you slowly stroked your big stomach that would soon hopefully birth a strong child for your mate. "How much longer do you think?"

So'lek looked down at you and took note of how big your stomach had gotten. This baby must be growing at an extraordinary rate. He has never seen a woman get pregnant this quickly before. He also could only imagine how much you were uncomfortable dealing with all this change in your body.

"We are approaching the 8th month so this baby will grow much quicker. I predict that it will be born in less than two months."

You sighed and laid your head on his chest. "Oh thank goodness." Carrying his child felt...uncomfortable on your body to say the least.

He rubbed your head while looking down at you. His eyes were filled with love and relief as he thought about how soon you will be able to give birth. The thought of the baby being born also made him have all sorts of thoughts like how much of you was in the baby and how much of him was in the baby.

"How do you feel? Is the pregnancy getting too uncomfortable for you?"

You nodded and shifted in the hammock to be more comfortable. "It feels very uncomfortable. I think the baby is going to take after you the most. I feel like a Tulkun."

So'lek felt his ego inflate at the statement that your child would be taking after him. However, he didn't like that you were experiencing major discomfort from the pregnancy. This really showed him just how much this pregnancy was taking a toll on you. He continued to rub your head as he spoke.

"I will tell you a secret ma'yawne. When I was young I was a very loud child. Perhaps our baby will be as well."

You groaned and rolled your eyes. "Just what I need, a rambunctious child. AND a baby on top of that." you teased. You only meant it half jokingly of course.

He scoffed at the comment but didn't seem to mind it at all. If anything, the thought of having an energetic child to take care of with you is something he actually looks forward to. However, the thought of having a rambunctious child is also going to make him an overprotective father.

"Well you mated with me didn't you?" So'lek chuckled in his raspy voice as he ran a four fingered hand down your arm. "So it is only fate for our child to have our personalities."

You smiled at his first statement. You did mate with him, and you'd never regret it. You nuzzled into his side, your hand caressing his chest. Your fingers gently traced patterns on his blue skin. After a minute of silence, you spoke up with a request. "Rub my stomach again? It felt good."

He didn't have to be asked twice. As soon as you asked, he pulled you closer and started to massage and caress your belly. In this position, he could really feel how big you were getting. The thought of his baby being inside you was making him feel excited yet nervous for the day that you will give birth.

He put a feather-light kiss to your temple and hummed as he traced circles on your soft skin. "I promise to be a good father to our child. Nga yawne lu oer, ma little tsamsiyu."

[lgbtpopcult]

The 10 2024 WLW TV Series You Need to Be Watching So Far

23.5

NCIS HAWAII

BLANK THE SERIES

TED

VIGIL

CHASER GAME W

HAZBIN HOTEL

DEATH AND OTHER DETAILS

STATION 19

WHISPER ME A LOVE SONG YURI ANIME

[spacedlexi]

"sounds nice... having a partner"

[90sfantasyanimestuff]

Romance wa Tsurugi no Kagayaki: Last Crusader, PC-98

[gotchibam]

Here's the smol fiery chibi Karlach I made as a sample for my chibi commissions~ ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🔥

[morzyin]

๛ 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐆Á 𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒

[ Nomes nas Tags ]

[swimmpantyz]

I HATE w every single inch of my body the mc from whb

am I supposed to do as if that thing it's ME? am I supposed to project on THAT?

I have to smash my bigass head on the wall every single time that bitch opens it's mouth or just says "??????!!!!!!!!" "!!!!!!!!!!!!" "Kkkgghhhuu????" THAT'S NOT ME THAT'S NO ME THAT'S NOT MEEEEEE

if u r going to give a reader insert a personality AT LEAST make it tolerable

that's why the MC sheep from obey me it's 🔛🔝

[moonlightflower-queen]

Macaria fan design!

She is shy and i imagine the whole family is very protective of her. (Considering what happened the first 2 times lolol)

Apparently there's a daughter of Heracles with the same name and i took some of her sacrifice symbolism, so she's the goddess of blessed death and sacrifice here.

If you want to read me ramble about her design, here's the post where i do that:

[kokushibe]

Romance Dawn Trio

[todorokis-girl]

I celebrate by being honest with myself - Kageyama Tobio

part of the confession series!

After a major volleyball victory, Tobio Kageyama confesses his long-held feelings to his childhood friend, leading to a heartfelt moment that changes their relationship forever.

masterlist

The bright lights of the arena glistened off the sweat-soaked court as the last echoes of the cheering crowd faded into the night. It had been an intense match, one for the books, and the adrenaline still coursed through Kageyama's veins. His team had secured a hard-fought victory, propelling them further into the championship. Amidst the celebration, his thoughts drifted to the one person who had always been there, silently supporting him through every high and low.

He found her waiting by the exit, a familiar smile lighting up her face as she held a bouquet of his favorite flowers. Y/N had been his friend since childhood, a constant in his tumultuous journey from a middle school rookie to a professional athlete. Her presence had always been a comfort, but tonight, there was something different about the way his heart beat in her presence.

"Toby! You were amazing out there!" Y/N exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with pride.

Kageyama's normally stoic expression softened as he approached her. "Thanks, Y/N. Your support means a lot."

They walked together through the now quiet corridors of the arena, reminiscing about old times and the road that had led them here. The air was thick with unspoken words, the tension building with every step they took.

Finally, they reached the entrance to the parking lot, where the night sky stretched endlessly above them. Kageyama stopped, turning to face her. He took a deep breath, his hands slightly trembling as he reached out to take hers.

"Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to tell you," he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I've had these feelings for a while now, but I've always been too afraid to say anything. You've been by my side through everything, and I realized tonight that I can't keep this inside anymore."

Y/N's eyes widened, her heart racing as she squeezed his hands gently. "Toby, what are you trying to say?"

Kageyama looked into her eyes, the intensity of his emotions reflected in his gaze. "I love you, Y/N. I think I've loved you for as long as I can remember. You mean everything to me, and I can't imagine my life without you."

The world seemed to pause in that moment, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. Y/N felt a rush of emotions, tears welling up in her eyes as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Toby, I love you too," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I've always loved you."

Relief washed over Kageyama as he held her close, the tension melting away. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands as he leaned in to kiss her gently, a kiss that held all the unspoken words and years of longing.

As they stood there under the stars, wrapped in each other's arms, Kageyama knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. They had faced countless challenges together, and now, they would face the future hand in hand, their hearts forever intertwined.

"Let's go home," he whispered against her lips, a smile spreading across his face.

Y/N with, her heart full asked “Home?,"

“Stay over tonight?” She laughed and nodded, at the look in his eyes.

And together, they walked into the night, ready to face whatever came next, as long as they had each other.

[eurydia]

detail of Down by the River [full art - NSFW]

[writingoneout]

Untilted Katamari Reflections

Preamble:

Content considerations for the following include:

Parental abuse

Bigotry

Worldly anxiety

You're welcome back another day if that's too much right now.

I.

It’s fall of 2015.

You and your virgin college friends drink shitty cocktails called the “Slutty Will Rodgers.” They’re just Pepsi rawdogged with indeterminate amounts of grenadine and Captain Morgan. When you bought the mixers a Wal-Mart stocker yodeled “OOOOoOoooOH, maKIN sOMe DRINKS?!?!” and you knew it was time to leave.

We Love Katamari is on the Telly. It’s a sweet, trippy game you first bought to cope with high school. On Dark Fridays at 1am, when your inbox was barren and your balls were full, you’d drive to the empty gym downtown and sprint six miles. Then you’d come home and replay the firefly level until you fell asleep with your pug.

Your college friends are bad at the game, so they pass the controller. You’re playing the underwater stage. A spaceman falls in the pond of people gunk and stacked crabs. It’s going really well if you’re honest. You point to the screen and say “this’ll be Florida if Trump wins.” See Fig. 1.

Figure 1: Rick Desantis has big plans for Disney.

Your friends don’t reply because they soon won’t be virgins and their tongues battle each other’s. It’s a different game they play, one with fuzzier rules, but greater industry respect. You wish the campus gym was open 24/7.

. . .

Your skills as the prince are not inherent. You first meet him in 2005, when your dyspraxic hands can barely tie a shoe. Your parents catch you lose shit for the Toonami review of Me and My Katamari. They buy it for Christmas, hoping to steady your nerves while your father’s in therapy.

Dr. Flam is a Neo-Freudian hitched to your mom’s guy, Dr. Flim. She’s deep in your dad’s dream journal and makes him watch movies like Cool Hand Luke to really reign in his ego. He gets the DVDs from the Netflix site, then through the mail. As a family you watch your dad’s therapy films and reruns of Inyuasha.

In the waiting room you barely navigate the sticky ball through Namco Bandai’s Satoshi Kon parade. See Fig. 2. You’ve only seen adults express anger verbally, so when you mess up you grunt a lot and let out those Leopold Butters Stotch swears like “crap,” “shoot,” and “gosh darn.” You’re not particularly self-aware, so you probably just say “god fucking damn it” a few times and don’t remember. Years later you realize there was probably a secretary behind the glass watching you do all this.

Figure 2: Bwahbwahwabhbawahbwaaaaah.

Sometimes there’s a girl in the room with you, just around your age. She’s stuck while Dr. Flim teaches her mom about what dream snakes mean for her fear of male puberty. That's what he did for your mom, anyway.

You think the waiting-room stranger is cute, but you won’t admit you like girls yet, especially not to yourself. To cope with the cognitive dissonance, you do your weird shit louder while refusing to make eye contact with her. If you get real stressed you crank up the main menu track and yell “ahhhhh that’s so relaxing” while the “nah nah nah nahs” play through your headphones.

At one point the girl stands against a wall and stares at you with her arms crossed. You bet she thinks you’re cool, but she’s probably just annoyed and hopes you’ll notice, or maybe just ask if she’s OK. It’s probably good you don’t talk with her. You might ask something stupid, like if she's seen the roach corpse in the stairwell. It’s been there for a year straight, isn’t that crazy?

For better and worse, you power through your little game alone. Every time you lose the King of All Cosmos beats, shoots, and belittles you. See Fig. 3. It reminds you of when your own dad shattered your Harry Potter wand over the kitchen counter because you dropped a mini pizza.

Figure 3: The King of All Cosmos offers little constructive advice, all things considered.

You fail quite frequently. Eventually you drop the game because it’s getting stressful and you have the power to relieve yourself of the situation—not the Freudian lobby, just your fake dad.

II.

It’s 2012. PlayStation Network uploads The Prince’s primeval outing: Katamari Damacy. Within, Padre Cosmotic flaps his gums over too much hooch then slams his dump truck ass through the better part of our solar system. He dislodges every recognized constellation and even the moon itself.

Cosmos sends Prince to Earth—the last brick left in the shitstorm—to make slop of our planet and bodies. With the slop space itself will be made anew. The Good Son does as he's told, and every living entity experiences euphoric ego death within the bulbous heaven of the Katamari.

As a Real Gamer Teen you lose a lot less in this one. You really go in and fix Fake Dad’s mistakes, no problem at all. This is why a year ago you hailed “gaming journalism” as your calling. You write clean and play tight; should keep the lights on. It’s the most concrete idea you’ve had since 7th grade when you outlined a YA novel called Tooth Pocket. Even you didn’t think Scholastic would buy that one, though. It was just too hot for the book fair.

One day you’re cranking through FFVI and your real dad swings by, mad you're young. He grills your ass and says “I bet you can’t even tell me the biggest thing happening right now.” It’s some real “What’s a gallon of milk cost?” shit, he could mean anything.

 Surprisingly, you can’t think of a good answer. You and your friends are actually pretty informed because John Stewart is still at the desk and y’all chime in every day. See Fig. 4. You also spend hours each week tearing through MSN slideshows in your Graphic Design class because the Photoshop takes five minutes. You’ve seen a staggering amount of the Syrian civil war.

Figure 4: Sometimes in Snapchat you draw glasses on your cat to make him look like Mitch McConnel. You wouldn't do that without this guy.

Still, you’re a little stumped. It’s the middle of a phenomenon native to moralist presidencies known as "a slow news week.” You actually ran out of war shit the other day and clicked through some slides about Pakistani wrestlers. The seniors who offered you Jack Daniels in the Whataburger lot saw it and laughed. They thought you were peeping dong in class. You really weren’t, but they didn’t believe you. They graduate certain you were bricked up in the Dell Lab over big guys in spandex.

“I don’t know,” you tell your dad.

He throws his hands behind his head, hard, like an orangutan chucking logs at a poacher.

“It’s the fucking carbon tax,” he yells. This comes as a surprise, you think, because that shit is last month’s news. It really didn’t go anywhere.

“Do you not pay attention because you don’t give a shit, or are you just a nihilist and think you can’t do anything?” You can tell in his eyes he thinks there’s a real answer. “Seriously, which is it?

You don’t remember what you said. You probably just stammered until he walked off.

A month later he picks you up from marching band. Your phone is dead, so he had to wait twenty minutes longer than anticipated while you found his car. He punches the rearview mirror until the windshield cracks then screams of how your birth kept him from New England.

III.

It’s 2016. A rockin’ MILF in the Psych department gets you really into Hamilton. See Fig. 5. Every day you wake up on the grind and blast “You Aaron Burr, sir?” through your shitty 7-11 cans. While cramming foreign language Quizlets and McGraw Hill Online you do this thing called “Hafilton.” It’s where rock up to “Nonstop” and quit listening just before Hamilton decides what he will stop is being a good husband.

Figure 5: Like Kojima, you know "MILF" is a mindset, not a factual inquiry.

It’s 2018. Your grades are notably better and you’ve snuck into the honors program. Like Hamilton himself, you really flourished at 19 and thought about running for office. You immediately abandoned this idea after remembering your allergy to recordings of your image or voice.

You cohabit with the Psych MILF, and she offers some advice: she’s really had her boots on the ground with this whole “clinical psych thing” and honestly, respectfully, she loves you, but dear God it might not be your scene. It’s taken a real toll on her and the friends, and she can’t imagine you going through that shit.

At 1am in your living room you boot up DOOM (2016) and listen through some Hamilton. Angelica is thirsty on main when you remember that you, yourself, could be a lawyer. You don’t have to run for Congress to fight the establishment. There’s just the common law, and it’s right there. You can just get your grubby little hands in that shit and work your magic.

. . .

It’s the last semester of undergrad. Your Western Thought professor says Hamilton wasn’t really a huge deal and really James Madison shat out the big parts of our faction-proof empire. Yes, there was, in fact, a civil war, but the caplock rifle worked it out. After the Federalist papers he has you read the Bill of Rights but no Supreme Court cases. There’s a lot of talk on negative liberties.

Just before finals, the learned doctor says your generation only has two things to worry about: the climate and the poverty. Yeah they’re big, he says, but they’re just two things. You’re crafty kids, smart as the framers, even.

. . .

The state decides law school is your jam and lets you come inside.

There’s the negative liberties but you actually read Supreme Court opinions when the big boys aren’t shaking fists for Valley Forge. They have you listen to Hamilton for context. You feel dirty. An LRW professor puts on the “I’m Just a Bill” video and your sectionmate with Ivy degrees gets really, really mad.

. . .

The Federalist Society has a comfy presence at your law school. Along with Big Oil they sling out free pizza to every Little Scalia with a rumbly tum tum.

On your way to class you hear what the pizza boys feel. They hate Europeans, those social democrats with the rotten armories and clumpy cash. The Euros, they think, give too much wiggle room for the mentally ill, and by that they mean they mean gay people and probably just women overall.

There are more than two things to fix, you think.

. . .

The pandemic hits. You and some pals start a Google Doc to stay afloat. It barely works. In the Zoom review for the property final your professor catches multiple people crying. "You don't have to be here," he tells them, “there are other jobs.”

. . .

A year passes. You’re in a niche public interest class you do all right with. The professor looks you and thirty-five others dead in the eye and says how sorry he is that law school is traumatic. You shed a single tear in your little window. You're pretty in the shit and haven’t worn pants to class in months.

Then public interest prof takes a big, big drag from his long, fat spliff. He spins his desk chair and baseball cap at the same time, never letting go of the joint.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s not your fault, really, but the world is fucked. It’s time to fix what your parents did.”

The next week he gives a practice exam where the best solution is to sell an old lady’s house to Nestlé.

IV.

It’s 2022. After throwing your whole gooch at it, you fail the bar exam.

You fall back hard into exercise. When you’re not slamming Barbri you’re at the gym binging curls and cranking the Chainsaw Man soundtrack. One night on the way to squats you finally hear “Black Parade.” Just like you, Mr. Gerry Wayland is stuck between global disrepair and the desire to write Funny Little Books.

You just started an FLB yourself, actually. It’s spin on a Story Break episode you love. In your version there’s a fucked up civil war horse that moves like a spider and is covered in bugs. Rich people kill the planet then the horse gets lost in space. It’s compelling, you promise. There’s body horror and pirates dressed like Gorton’s Fisherman. See Fig. 6 It’s about the horrors of the contemporary world state. It’ll be fun.

Figure 6: An untapped horror icon. Imagine blood contrasting that yellow.

Big problem, though: you remember rich people love hiking. There’s no grass on Mars, not that good shit anyway. Would they really fuck all of it?

You edit. In the last few years, the real breathless ones, the oligarchs cash their tab. A cartel, they think, could really muscle those stragglers, the tragically common. There’s one city left with both breathable air and refugees. They level it. The few survivors are spread amongst the stars, so their loves and languages may die.

. . .

It’s the middle of Bar Prep Round 2. You and the patient MILF see Hadestown in the Big City.

There’s a juke joint on stage flanked by devil trombones. A sad little guy slinks in from the janitor’s closet. His name is Orpheus and, just like you, he’s a sad, short writer who likes a lady so much it comes out weird. He has a vision, he says, for a little ditty. It’s compelling, he promises, and shit’s gonna change. His love is functional and realized, worth the investment of a hardened woman displaced by capital’s torture. She believes him.

You cry because you know where this goes.

It’s just a single tear.

Don’t worry.

Nobody sees.

. . .

There’s this game you like, by some corporate anarchists who hate themselves. They’re Scandinavian, from the spot in Tallin where you stopped for a cruise. Every gift shop there had swastikas and gas masks leftover from the bloody years.

In the game is a liberal yacht MILF. She thinks you’re stupid but someone’s helping with your gun, so you’ve got that on her. And yet, she pins you, re your whole writing thing. See Fig. 7.

Figure 7: She sucked, but it still hurt when she left.

Your favorite Supreme Court podcast says the ocean’s last hope is other countries. But those countries’ people cry to the Disco game, and their ministers also bought The End of History. You meet them on the subreddit. You're all geeked out, waiting for the tide.

. . .

It’s the era of desert cradles. God thinks you’re disgusting, so he sends his better kids with a memo: the flood was too much work on his end, it’s time for something different.

“Just keep walking,” he says.

Your skin bares his figure. So do the corpses. You little birds among billions, gassed out and screaming, move to clean.

V.

It’s 2023.

We Love Katamari is up on the PlayStation store. You sit with the cats and mow down some crabs. You don’t need it so much these days, but it’s nice.

There’s a Bar card in your wallet, just below your gym tag. There are two interviews in your Google Calendar. Good stuff might happen, hopefully soon. You crawl into bed and wrap an arm around your wife’s rib cage.

Everything matters and nothing is safe.

You are loved enough to sleep.

[kmn7]