#some of these i. do not like having a visual for

[justporo]

Imagine Astarion stays at camp one day for whatever reason. You're out the whole day with the party adventuring.

At first everything is all good, splendid even. Astarion practically makes a show out of how much of a day off he needed. The others staying behind just eye him in that way they do when he's being annoying (which quite frankly is often).

After a while though he notices how his thoughts keep wandering back to you. First it's only brief, he brushes it off as if nothing happened.

But Astarion's thoughts keep circling back to you, until he notices he's been staring at the same page of the book he's reading for half an hour. And it hits him.

Gods above and below, he's actually worried about you. What if something happens to you during the time you're out with the others? Can the others really be trusted with keeping you safe and sound. Probably not. What if everyone else gets wiped and it's you alone and injured somewhere. Unthinkable!

The horror scenarios keep coming and Astarion starts walking circles around camp losing himself in thought spirals of what could happen to you. His anxiety has his hackles raised and he has the skill (issue) to rile everyone else up also with his nervous wandering and mumbling.

Lae’zel is about ready to decapitate him while Gale tries to calm him (thereby only making it worse foe Astarion) as the adventure party returns.

You're startled when the vampire immediately comes over, basically running, and asks about how you're doing while simultaneously conducting a visual inspection of you.

When you answer that you're fine and Astarion hasn't found but a scratch on you he notices that everyone in camp is staring at the two of you. There's a bit of a knowing smile on some of the other's faces while Lae’zel looks like she's about to barf.

"Well," Astarion tries to play over it nonchalantly (and failing) "just making sure my dinner isn't spoiled, darling. I wouldn't want to have to send you back to the chef."

The others turn away while rolling their eyes.

You though feel how warmth floods through you despite the exhaustion of a long day dragging on your limbs.

"We can't have that, can we?" you humour Astarion’s stupid joke with a real smile.

You walk over to where he's standing, arms awkwardly crossed over his chest, and grab one of his hands to squeeze it in thanks.

He squeezes it back, also smiling.

"I'm glad you're okay, darling."

[kisakis-boyfriend]

might i request reader fucking boothill after they take off his arms and legs? he's got mechanical limbs, so it won't really hurt and they can be put back on again, but like. the brainrot. he'd look so cute fr fr ♦️

Author's Note: You must also be a mind reader, because I have been plagued with all sorts of scenarios like this. Either with a robot/android character having their innards played with, or robot/android reader. — All of that to say; I went with a mechanic reader doing some maintenance on Boothill, and things get a lil spicy 👀 (ended up making the reader a bit southern too??)

Pairings: Boothill x reader

Warnings: Male mechanic!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Boothill, robo sex, robo genital functions, Boothill's goofy swearing, fingering, grinding, mild objectification

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Please check my pinned post to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

“What seems to be the problem?” You ask. The man on the other side of the desk rolls his shoulder back a few times, complaining of some joint issues.

“Alrighty, follow me. I'll take a look at'cha”

The cowboy follows you into an examination room. Various posters are taped to the walls — cheesy motivational posters and diagrams of machinery, mostly. He comments on them, saying that he appreciates a place like this, as opposed to the squeaky clean shops he'd been referred to previously. You chuckle and thank him for the compliment.

Some tools are pulled out and placed on a workbench next to the table. As you're prepping things, you tell your customer to remove any articles of clothing and have a seat on the table.

“Well shoot, at least take me to dinner first, darlin'!” He teases, smirking at you when you slowly turn your head around and playfully squint your eyes at his remark. Still, he does as he's told, and removes his cropped top, pants, hat. Literally everything is off, and he takes his seat, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“Lift this arm for me. Ok good. Now the other one.” You instruct him through a simple visual check. All four of his limbs seem to stutter through their movements, acting worse when he tries to rotate his legs.

“Ok... Um, I think this'll be an easy fix, but uh...”

“But what?”

“I... am going to need to detach all of your limbs to fix you–”

—

While your customer was clearly not used to a procedure like this one, he did a wonderful job of following your instructions so as not to damage anything while you're removing his appendages. All four of them detach smoothly, and you set them aside on a spare table until you'll need them again. With the heavy lifting out of the way, you're ready to go in for the delicate work of recalibrating his connecting joints.

“You know, you're probably one of my best customers.” you say as your fingers tug on one of the small wires buried deep within his hip socket, “Most people aren't too keen on doing it all at once. And even when it's two at a time, they squirm and babble anxiously.”

Boothill inhales sharply as the sensation of your hands literally inside of him stirs something within his belly. His lower lip is scored with the marks from his sharp teeth.

You tighten a few of the mechanisms in there, and he prays that you keep your eyes on your work, otherwise you'd see how stupid he must look as his eyelids droop and his mouth opens in a silent moan. It's taking all of his willpower to hold those sounds in.

“Geez, this one is crazy loose… do you uh, have regular maintenance done? Because you really sh-”

As you grip another wire and pull it, a compartment on Boothill's crotch suddenly opens up, revealing a fleshy, dripping hole.

If the cowboy still had legs at the moment, he'd be trying to close them and hide his arousal from you. Already, his breathing has become ragged and heavy, on the verge of making other, lewder sounds…

“Ah! O-oh I am so sorry–”

“Naw, s'okay…” Boothill slurs before the beginning of a moan, futilely attempting to hold composure that is clearly long gone by this point. He can't really buck his hips, but you can tell that that's what he's trying to do. You take the hint, and curiously move between his legs- or, what would be the area between his legs, anyway. He gives you permission immediately, almost begging to have this spot touched.

It's… strangely soft… humanlike in both appearance and touch. It's unclear whether this is human flesh or synthetic, but realistic flesh. Whatever it is, it has nerve endings of some variety, because Boothill whimpers as you prod around the edges of the opening. More liquid oozes out as you toy with him, gasping ooh's and aah's with a curious grin on your face. It's so much that you need to grab a couple towels and place them under his hips so it doesn't drip everywhere or seep into his open sockets. Seriously, it's like a waterfall after a couple minutes…

“You're sure this is ok? I'd hate to make you uncomfortable…”

The hole between his hips pulsates, opening up just slightly, as if it's inviting you inside.

“Darlin', please– you already had yer fingers inside of me today, just… put 'em back in.” The cowboy whines. And if a customer needs a little extra service, who are you to ignore them? Especially one as gorgeous as Boothill.

A rush of the sticky liquid comes pouring out when you push two fingers inside of his pretty hole.

“Fuck, not that I get around much, but I've never seen someone get so damn wet just from my fingers before. Is it always like this?”

A quiet 'mm-mm' is his response. His head flies to either side as your fingers sink in up to the knuckle, effortlessly, thanks to his built-in lube. His hair is hanging off the other end of the table, swooshing around every time Boothill flings his head around. It's so pretty, you really wish it was between your fingers right now…

For now, your focus comes back to the multitude of wet noises coming from Boothill's hole. The towels under him have long since soaked up everything spilling from his entrance.

“M-more… gimme more–!!” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut.

Removing your fingers, his hole squirts out a bit of liquid, and he resembles a sad puppy until he notices you removing your clothes. When your hard-on is more visible, Boothill drools at the sight.

You free your cock and give it a few pumps, licking your lips as your eyes flick between the cowboy's fleshy entrance and his sweaty face. He returns your gaze with his own obvious lust, lolling his tongue out once you touch him again.

It's incredibly soft and wet on your dick. You rub your length against the opening a few times, grinding against him and imagining how it will feel once you're inside–

“Shi- fuck! Mm that's tight, cowboy. Holy shit.” You exclaim, almost going cross-eyed from pleasure as his hole squeezes you so good. It doesn't take long for you to grab his hips and thrust like your life depends on it.

“Goddamn, yer like some hi-tech fleshlight! Oh yeah, take that dick! Take it, slut.” Mechanical wheezing is the only sound coming from Boothill now, unable to speak as you pound his hole mercilessly. In a moment of animalistic lust, you crawl up on the table and fuck him like a sex doll, curling over his body with your own and pistoning your hips, drilling into his gushing entrance as he squirts heavily.

You groan right into his ear, “M'gonna cum in you now- is that ok?” Boothill rapidly shakes his head, shivering at the way your breath hits his earlobe. Within seconds you're fucking your seed further into his squishy hole, ramming in so deep you make the cowboy's eyes roll completely back, and he exhales a shaky “Fork yeah~”. It's hard not to chuckle at the ridiculousness of what he said, but coming down from your high takes most of your energy — including the energy to realize that this man did just say "fork yeah" when you came inside of him……

His hole is still greedily sucking your juices in, and you can already feel yourself humping the glorified fleshlight that is your customer. Needless to say, this repair will take longer than you planned…

[acetrappolad]

riddle wip

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖶𝖨𝖫𝖫 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖡𝖤 𝖨𝖭 2 𝖸𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖲? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hello! I know this is a shorter post, but I wanted to share something. This was requested anonymously, so thank you for the suggestion! ♥

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST.

PILE ONE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? The Empress [Reversed], The Chariot, Knight of Wands [Reversed].

In two years, you're definitely the one in control. If you're facing any hurdles, especially with dreams left unattended or ideas just lingering without action, that fades away over time. You might still encounter creative blocks and timing issues, but you'll handle them much more effectively, learning self-control and taking decisive action. You'll realize that your accomplishments don't solely define you; they're just an added bonus. You should know to slow down, it will grant you a clearer perspective to seeking security.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Networker — Light : Enhances unity through sharing of information. Engenders social awareness and empathy. Shadow : Conveys information only for person gain. Spreads fear and falsehood.  The Merchant : Self-worth, Trade. 

You could find yourself in a more social setting or perhaps in a higher position in your career, whether it's the same job or a new one. You're confident but not cocky, aware of your self-worth, and others notice this too. In some way, you seem to be a messenger, spreading kindness. This doesn't have to be taken literally; it could relate to anything. Whatever came to mind when you read that might be it.

PILE TWO

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? Ten of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, The Tower.

If you're starting something you've been wanting to begin or have been thinking about it, know now is the right time to do it. The next two years will be intense and different from what you're used to, but you can handle it. All your hard work will definitely pay off. In two years, you'll achieve what you wanted—be it wealth, security, or some kind of success. This will finally become permanent. However, expect significant changes, some of which you may not like at first. Any upheaval or chaos is just a way to build an even stronger foundation. For those considering starting a family, think about your circumstances carefully. Don't rush. This aspect will bloom within the coming years.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Queen — Light : Radiates the regal feminine. Uses her benevolent authority to protect others. Shadow : Becomes arrogant when authority is challenged. Controlling and demanding.  The Adventurer : Responsibility, Expectations.

Again, for those considering starting a family—if not, feel free to skip this part—you'll find yourself strongly in the parental role. This doesn't necessarily mean with a human child; just know you'll feel content. Some of you might be stressing over the mere thought, but rest assured, it'll bring fulfillment. As for the rest of you, you'll develop a stronger sense of responsibility. However, this doesn't mean you can't explore. The next few years are about stabilizing, rebuilding what's been lost, but in two years, you'll regain your 'freedom' once more. You are always the one in control, don't get lost in a little box.

PILE THREE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? King of Swords, Seven of Cups, Four of Wands.

Pile three, you'll find yourself in a place of mental and physical clarity. It's a very calm and peaceful state. You're enjoying life, with a sense of harmony and relaxation. Home feels like a welcoming place. You deserve this, so keep following your instincts. There are many paths and decisions ahead, but there's no wrong choice. You get to decide for yourself. Whatever starts now will lead to peace in the future. While life won't be stress-free, you'll accept the struggles, not rushing to figure everything out immediately.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Hermit — Light : Seeks Solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  The Vengeance : Overcoming Slights, A Choice. 

In two years, I envision you embracing the homebody life, in your own zone. It's all about you and your close circle. You'll find contentment in solitude, focusing on the little things with acceptance—chores, hobbies, and everyday routines. When I think of this scenario, I see someone sitting in a chair, leisurely watching their pet play without a worry in the world. It's a heartwarming scene; some of you might even welcome a new pet into your life. In two years, it's a time for retreat, and if you believe you can get there, you will.

[poppy-metal]

my laptop charger gave out but i finally got a new one 🥳 so i am back and i found this thing in my drafts. can't remember if i already sent it so if i didn't then enjoy.

annoying friend! patrick would 100% convince you to watch porn with him. sitting in his room one day after you both left tennis practice. trying to figure out ways to entertain yourself when he bluntly just says it. probably teases you about how you probably never watch porn, you're too innocent, too much like a baby. a soft defense of yourself "i am not like that!" unintentionally corners yourself when patrick eagerly smirks. 

"prove it," and what else can you do than lay beside him as he searches for something? pulling up a lewd video - something he says is one of his 'favorites' because of course he has one - of woman messily getting fucked. patrick focuses more on your face and reactions as you watch it with wide eyes. the way her saliva falls and collects as the guy in the video pushes her down his cock. how messy she looks afterwards. the close up of the cock quickly fucking into her. you don't notice how tightly clenched your thighs are until you feel patrick slide his hand onto your legs. grinning ear from ear. 

-☕

i hate him i hate him i hate him i hate him

chooses the most scandalizing video on purpose - one where the guy is basically skullfucking the girl on screen and there's spit and drool and snot everywhere - dripping down the mans balls and taint, in strings, the lewd gag of the womans throat being abused loud and obscene.

you're irritated because you're intrigued. if this is one of patricks favorite videos.... "do you like it like that?" you have to wonder, which is bad bad bad - you've done good, you think, of straying away from strictly sexual topics when you're alone with patrick - lines get blurred to easy. and you'd already friendzoned him like, three times. you had to stick to your guns. but still. watching the video - you imagined the man as patrick - and your thighs squeezed.

patricks gaze had been on you, and it still is - he's watched this video countless times. beaten his dick off to it. "you're asking if i fuck girls like that?" there's a tone of something in his voice, the corner of his lips tucked up. you're already sitting pretty close to watch the video play out, balancing on his thighs - but he moves his leg minutely. so it presses against yours. skin on skin contact.

the warm heat of his thigh against yours is tantalizing. it was already stuffy in his room - hotter the longer the video played out. even now your gaze is locked on the screen because you refuse to look at patrick, can feel his eyes on the side of your face, "well." you edge hesitantly. "i mean its just.... messy. all those fluids - not all of that is spit, and like - the sounds. isn't that a turn off?"

maybe if you make yourself sound grossed out by it patrick will feel some shame and close the laptop. fat chance. patrick and shame? they dont know eachother. not even distant relatives.

"no." he says simply. when you glance at him, he bites his bottom lip, runs his teeth along it for a second before he releases it and elaborates. your curious little eyes getting to him. "its hot as fuck. i dont care whats coming out of her - snot, tears, spit - getting messy on my dick like that? gagging on it? feels amazing."

you swallow. "so you do treat girls like that."

his grin is sly, "you wanna know how i fuck? i can show you."

for one blistering moment you're frozen - i can show you - lips parted in shock, and most telling to how you feel about being shown how he fucks, a slick gush in your panties.

but patrick doesn't make a move on you. his shoulder brushes yours as he brings up another video, the thumbnail already making your eyes widen. oh. he presses play -

"i didn't ask to know how you -" you start, a delayed response, cut off when the video plays and your eyes are immediately assaulted by the visual of a mans thick ass and thighs as he hunches over a smaller woman, his cock a big angry thing - "thats not going to fit..." you say to yourself.

"it will." patrick assures you. "just watch," like he knows from experience. and again you're imagining this man as patrick now, his face isn't in frame so its easy. hes tan and the backs of his thighs are hairy like you know patricks are, corded with muscle. your clit throbs when he begins to bully the bulbous head of his cock into the small pout of her cunt, forcing the womans lips apart and notching into her little hole. you bite your lip - mesmerized by the sight as the man bears down. the woman lets out a wall of bliss as she's forced open - you see the struggle as shes stretched and then you see the give - when the man grunts and slams his hips down and his big dick dissappears inside her. his heavy sack resting against her outer lips.

"wow." you say. you pick at your bottom lip for something to do as the man starts fucking her. hard and mean, wet slaps filling the room from the laptop. "guess i need to send get well cards to all the girls you've been with.... "

patricks shoulder moves against yours as he laughs. "they're fine, i assure you."

"but! that has to hurt!" it must, right? no way that'd feel good.... having your cunt forced open like that.... you clench down, empty. imagining a phantom force pushing its way in. patricks cock....

the man in question shrugs. scratches his jaw, "i mean, yeah, if you're a complete amateur. but i take care of what's mine - trust me, they're begging for this big dick before i even pull it out."

your nipples are hard peaks. his voice is so.... when he talks about things seriously. this soft quality that makes your head a little blank. you dont need to question him on his size, you'd seen the print of him tenting his sweats before - you know hes packing a fucking anaconda in there. you think better on pressing him about the whole "take care of whats mine" bit. if he goes into explicit detail about that you'll have to excuse yourself to rub your clit in your own room. tormented with thoughts of being one of patricks zweigs girls for a night - his.

you shut the laptop. "well that was enlightening. i now know more about your sex life than i ever wanted to know before. thanks for that."

he nudges you, "im always happy to entertain."

[gold-pavilion]

Informative reminders about LIDENFILMS (Tokyo Revengers' animation studio):

In light of the TR season 4 announcement, here's some facts I happen to know about LIDENFILMS and would like to share:

- It's a small studio that only began operations in 2012.

- As far as has been observed, treats their workers fairly and gives them a reasonable/humane amount of work.

- Unafraid of animating LGBT content on mainstream shounen anime for TV!! Has handled TR very respectfully in this aspect. - Has workers so content that they have the will and time to be in the TR fandom too, drawing fanart and enjoying the characters outside studio time. I believe this is always a good sign.

- Has staff that cares greatly about the material. I've personally read directors giving extra contemplation to scenes, audio staff celebrating getting an emotional scene just right, and various expressions of effort and passion. I also believe this is a good sign.

LIDENFILMS also:

- Is heavily criticized for not having more high-budget time-consuming animation.

- Is often mocked for not being on par with high-budget shows in terms of visual detail.

- Still fits in wonderfully animated moments, just within constraints of their reasonable work times and manpower. Which, unfortunately but realistically, isn't every shot every episode.

- Again: in a gargantuan anime industry that sadly has NEVER been able to have animators unionize, as far as research shows, provides fair treatment.

- Again: goes places where TV-aired series/shounen do not regularly go. TR streams on Disney+ and the studio isn't on the best economic grounds and they STILL handle things that usually result in enormous industry pressure, such as lgbt themes.

Please consider these points!

[dimespin]

you're world-building is some of my favorite! I'm curious if there's already a comic or some narrative of the like that I may have overlooked? Totally fine if you prefer just to manifest in the way of sketches and descriptions- I am curious; if anything were possible how do you envision your world manifesting if any differently than presently?

No, I doubt you're overlooking anything.

I'm chronically ill, so my preferences are unfortunately not the only thing dictating my choices. I'd prefer to do graphic novels, and still want to, but I have learned from past experience saying that too many times publicly in a week gets me hate mail. I understand my work is in some ways a kind of mythological greek punishment (there is a reason my old picarto channel was titled "Like The Punishment of Tantalus"- I think this blog may have had that title too at one point I forget) - I can only hope most people enjoy what I show more than they hate me for what's missing.

If anything at all were possible I'd still want comics, I believe deeply in comics as an art form and I feel the kind of stories I want to tell and the visual element I want involved best suits the medium.

Animation interests me but mostly because I think some people could do interesting things with the wiggle room of adaptation - I wouldn't see myself as the captain at the helm with that.

[brekwrites]

Moon’s deterioration as depicted in the thumbnails

So, I don’t claim to know what’s going on in the current SAMS arc bc I truly have no idea, but I have seen some people mention some of the glitch effects and how Moon has gradually acquired a purple glow and thought it was interesting. So I went back through the thumbnails and noticed some stuff that I’m gonna dump under the cut. Fair warning, this is long.

So, starting all the way back with the ep where Dark Sun gives Moon an ominous hint and then fucks off:

Dark Sun drops this info, which he already knew and could have revealed at any time, and keeps it purposely vague so there’s still some confusion and no immediate action taken. Then he gets in his purple portal and fucks off.

The delay in him giving the information and purposeful vagueness almost make it seem like he’s stalling for time so Ruin can complete his plan, but we know he’s not actually working with Ruin because they don’t interact until later, and even then he’s using Ruin against his will as a pawn more than anything else. If he’s not working with Ruin, he must still have something to gain from his plan working; either the death of the creators, the death of Solar, or both.

After this, Ruin’s true nature is revealed and yadda yadda:

These are both action packed thumbnails with big shocking reveals, and I want to use them to illustrate a point. Despite the fact that there’s lots of stuff happening visually, there’s a difference between these thumbnails and this one:

The thumbnail for the episode with Solar’s death has a big heart monitor/heartbeat symbol. Also, Solar is glowing a slight purple color as he fades away (and missing two fingers). I’m not entirely sure if either of those facts are significant, but I do think the heartbeat symbol is.

After Solar’s death, the next big plot points are:

Dark Sun planting the idea that Moon’s proposed way won’t bring Solar back, but there’s another way that will, and then telling Eclipse that method and jamming a chip in his head to 1) slow him down and keep him from bringing Solar back too quickly, and 2) keep Moon from being able to sacrifice him for the equivalent exchange method.

So, Dark Sun just planted the idea of bringing Solar back, while also ensuring it only happens when and how he wants it to. Considering he also took measures to make sure the events leading to Solar’s death occurred in the first place, this is interesting.

While this is happening:

Moon talks to his old self, which punches him right in the insecurities and kickstarts his obsession with keeping his family happy. It also gives him a connection to Old Moon that he didn’t have before, which becomes more of a thing later.

While Moon is doing this:

Molten steals Ruin, so when Moon wakes up he realizes he’s lost the resource he was using to research ways to bring Solar back. On top of that, he finally realizes what exactly bringing Solar back will entail—a sacrifice. And he’s just lost the most morally justifiable person he could’ve sacrificed. So he loses it.

In this episode, Moon breaks down bc he’s been pushing himself to bring Solar back. He misses him and just wants to see his family happy and whole again. He’s also upset about the fact that he’d have to kill someone to get Solar back because he DOESN’T want to do that.

When Eclipse wanted to kill Ruin after finding out he’d build him, Moon told him no and specifically said who are we to decide who lives and dies. This was right after Solar’s death, and he still didn’t want to kill him. Now, he has a logical reason to do so and is STILL incredibly conflicted about it. He’s crying and breaking down like he knows he’s already lost Solar for good because he lost Ruin, who is one of his only options for bringing him back. (Also, it's possible that he knows deep down that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to sacrifice him even if he was there, or that his family wouldn't want it.) After this breakdown...

Moon has the hallucination/waking dream where he sees what could have happened if Solar survived, which is the beginning of the end for him. After this, he struggles to figure out what's real and takes a turn for the worse. And here, in the first (lore) episode Solar has been in since his death, we see the little heartbeat symbol again.

Meanwhile, Dark Sun rescues Ruin, sticks a chip in his head, and sends him back knowing that Moon won't be able to use him to bring back Solar. (Also, Ruin is glowing and flaking like Solar was, but his glow is teal. Teal seems to represent star power, possibly, because it's often there when Lunar uses it and it's present in the thumbnail of the later episode where Moon uses it. Not sure if this is relevant tho or if it was just a fun design choice here.)

Moon is starting to lose it, decides he'll do what he has to do to keep his family happy regardless of whether they actually want it and even if it makes them hate him. This is also the first time we start to see the glitchy imagery used in the background.

Importantly, this is when his actions start to contrast his earlier feelings. He decides to bring Solar back by any means possible and to sacrifice Ruin, which he specifically did not want to do before.

After he makes this decision and realizes Ruin is back, he goes to recapture him, initially with the intent to use him as a sacrifice. When he finds out he can't, he's livid. This is the first time we've seen him act on the violent impulses he's had, and it's also the first time we see the eye on the darker half of his face hidden.

After that, Moon starts to gradually get... purpler. Here, he's surrounded by it, but not really purple himself, and both eyes are normal as he keeps up the facade around his family.

But Eclipse gets a glimpse of what's actually happening when he goes to get evidence for Earth. Moon threatens him, and he reveals the Dark Sun did something to him, too, so he also can't be used as a sacrifice. This is when Moon sets his sights on Bloodmoon. Even more glitch imagery and purple shading that's starting to creep across his body, little red corruption lines on his face, and once again his left eye is obscured.

Once Sun realizes just how bad things have gotten, he starts to plan against Moon. Here, Moon is fully shaded purple and both eyes are obscured. (Maybe possibly because this is technically Sun's mental image of him, and Sun isn't entirely sure what he's dealing with yet and doesn't know what Moon is thinking?).

Then, in the episode where Moon sees Old Moon, he's finally glowing. As Old Moon grabs him, the eye on the lighter side of his face glitches. Also, we see the return of the little heartbeat symbols because this is the first episode where Moon sees the hallucination of Solar, even though he's not in the thumbnail. This picture is also good for contrasting Moon's typical color pallet with his purple-hued one.

Moon resists the advice of his conscience and goes to harass Eclipse. He breaks his fingers (noticeably the same ones Solar was missing), which is arguably the cruelest thing he's done yet (considering he choked Ruin, who murdered his friend, but he ripped off Eclipse's fingers when this version hasn't done anyone any bodily harm and was helping Earth). He's still glowing purple, and his shadow shows TWO red eyelights.

Once Sun captures him, their conversation is at least somewhat civil, even if it's not great. Moon is still glowing here, and we see one red eyelight on the dark side of his face, but his light eye is normal. This is also another episode where his conscience argues against him in the form of Solar, and he struggles to rationalize what he's doing.

After escaping and fully committing to being the villain, he's glowing an even darker purple and both eyes are glowing red.

When he tries to kill Bloodmoon, he's still glowing purple, and his eyes are still glowing red. This is also where he realizes he doesn't care if he hurts Earth (hence no normal eye on his lighter side). He admits that he was bluffing a bit before when he said it, but not anymore.

Finally, Dark Sun convinces Moon to go with him. He's still glowing purple here and one eye is glowing red, but the eye on the light side of his face is normal. This makes sense, because we see him fighting with himself over what he did in the beginning of this ep. He allows Dark Sun to remove the chip and even suggests for a moment that they could be brothers, which I feel speaks to how much he does want his family deep down, even if he says he doesn't.

While we can't say for certain that the removed chip was Old Moon, I think it's a reasonable theory considering they've started talking about the chip in relation to Old Moon and how Monty said he'd need to make a replacement chip, which Dark Sun also mentions. Once the chip is gone, Moon feels free of his inhibitions, which would make sense if Old Moon was trying to stop him and fits the eye imagery. Finally, I think it's interesting how Dark Sun is glowing yellow in this thumbnail and how he's been depicted with red irises on white sclera, while the corrupted half of Moon's face is depicted as red irises on presumably black sclera. Parallels, and all that.

So, yeah, I think it's a good bet that whatever is going on with Moon was Dark Sun's goal all along, although idk for what purpose. Also, I'm not sure if he did anything to Moon, either by giving him a virus/program or by triggering some of his hallucinations, or if it was the situation itself (which he engineered, but not completely) that caused Moon to snap without any direct interference. Either way, I think that Moon is being taken over by 'the Purple,' and that whatever it is, it's beneficial to Dark Sun's plans.

Finally, one last thing I noticed is that the Purple is not just Moon indulging in his more destructive tendencies alone, because he looks perfectly normal during the rage room episode.

So I do think that this is likely something more than just Moon himself falling off the deep end. That definitely doesn't excuse his actions, but it does suggest that there might be something more going on and he might not be fully in control of himself.

[artbyblastweave]

Whatever else I may say about the writing of Fallout 3, Oasis is excellent on every level. Genuinely totally siloed from the main quest and the rest of the game world's communities, isolated from any area of the game world that you'd be likely to pass through on your way to another quest objective (maybe Fort Constantine, but you'd still have to detour pretty heavily.) Despite that, allusions to the place are seeded throughout the game- Three Dog talking about it on the radio as an urban legend, a single insane wastelander ranting about it before dropping dead in front of you. One of your rewards for completing the Arefu quest is that you'll have a cluster of locations in Arefu's general area marked on your map if you hadn't found them already; one of those locations contains an exiled, berserk Treeminder with coordinates to Oasis on his person, albeit without any explanation of what Oasis actually is. Actually finding the place is a very self-directed activity even if they hand you everything you'd need to get there. I feel as though there's a level of restraint on display from Bethesda here that you wouldn't get for settlement with a named quest these days- an asset as visually unique as Harold would absolutely end up with top billing in the main quest, you wouldn't be allowed to miss him. And anyway, once you get there, I dunno, there are interesting parallels. Inasmuch as Fallout 3 has any kind of actual deliberate theme, I'd argue that the theme is that you can't run from your problems, and you can't stick your head in the sand. A lot of the settlements you visit over the course of the game have the vibe of a whole bunch of people who are just sort of holed up and waiting to die, even the outwardly successful ones like Megaton and RIvet City. The entire main plot is triggered by James deciding to try and do something about the state of the world instead of just waiting to die of inbreeding along with everyone else under the Overseer's thumb. Everywhere you visit is experiencing some kind of watershed moment- something's gotta give. And then you get to this place that's outwardly a pretty sweet setup, but only because they're obscure- and that's not sustainable. You found this place, other people are going to, the only actual choice on the table is on what terms they're going to come into contact with the outside world and on what timetable. The possibility of reforestation is complementary to Project Purity; they make a big point of the fact that Harold can't do jack about the irradiated water even if the restoration of greenery would still be a major net positive. And it's not hard to draw a connection between the ending where you convince Harold to keep living because the Treeminders are dependent on him, and the whole "abandonment issues" beat that the Lone Wanderer is given room to have with their own father- you don't get to duck out on the world that easy, James Number 2. Lots of interesting little parallels swirling around in there, if you're an overly charitable apophenic such as myself

[soamericn]

𝜗𝜚 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ ‘ truth, dare, spin bottles you know how to ball, i know aristotle. ‘

𝜗𝜚… previous chapter - next chapter

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!verstappen!y/n x lando norris ) y/n is the younger sister of world champion max verstappen and an author known for her young adult romance novels despite never being in a relationship herself. lando norris is a formula one driver and is secretly an old friend and a fan of her books since 2020.

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , brooke flecca

𝜗𝜚… triggers , none I don't think

𝜗𝜚… authors note , OKAY OKAY SO EXPLANATION AND APOLOGY TIME. it has been SO long since chapter 2 and im so sorry school got so much and I couldn't do it but im back and its summer and expect chapters and new fics more regularly!!!

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

𝜗𝜚 ˖ ࣪₊˚ post austrian grand prix interview - lando norris

𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪₊˚ yourusername posted

liked by charlottessine, alexalbon, laurenasherauthor and 987,764 others

yourusername miami next!! p1 lando 🤨

view comments

user54 y/n supporting lando instead of her actual brother well never not be funny 😭🙏

user32 she’s one of us 🙌

maxverstappen but guess who’s still winning

bsfusername ugh marry me 😫

yourusername i thought we already were??

mclaren bestseller AND our lucky charm what else can she do?

yourusername I cry over taylor swift occasionally 😁

user87 how you have never had a boyfriend is the biggest mystery of the world 🤯

user23 NO ACTUALLY SHES GLOWING

landonorris my cheerleader 🫶

yourusername i thought you were mine? 🤭

maxverstappen you guys make me SICK

redbull and you’ll be in our garage in miami right..? RIGHT?!

𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪₊˚ text messages with lando 🫶

the tv projected the track flashing between cameras, she picked at her nail beds, turning them into a nice shade of red. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as if she was scared it would run away. 

 the last name norris shined at the top of the leaderboard as the laps went catching up to fifty-seven. he was gonna do it, her boy was gonna it. nobody was sure if it was the gap between max and him or the miami humidity making everyone sweat. 

she’d done a silent prayer in her head, she needed this for him. he deserved it more than anyone else. the papaya livery passed the line once again, the red bull following soon after. The gap was closing, now 6.3 seconds, the time imprinted in her mind. the visual on him up top was tattooed into her memories. 

fifty-five lap. 

he was doing what nobody thought he could, and she was there to see it. she wished she could see his face through the helmet, what would he look like? would he have that big grin on his face that brightened a room, a smirk that was filled with confidence she only dreamed of having or was he so focused that he stared blankly his sight only the black track  

he was on a mission. 

one he’d been wanting to complete the last five years. 

fifty-six lap.

she was embraced with a realization, a realization that her daydream was playing out right in front of her. no words nor thoughts could express how proud she already was of him. there was no doubt in her eyes he’d get here at some point.

she held her hands over her mouth in an anxious prayer position. she hadn’t noticed the camera panning to her, her eyes glued onto the tv. a small text flashed onto an orange background y/n l/n, author. it had missed some three words after author and she hated how much she wanted that.

fifty-seven lap. 

the lap that seemed to last a lifetime.

each turn felt hours long, though she knew deep down that the gap couldn't be closed in one lap. her boy had finally done it, and max couldn’t take it from him. despite this, worry built in her throat, scared that the thirty-three redbull would miraculously close the gap out of nowhere, stealing the one thing he had ever wanted.

the chequered flag waved, everyone rose from their seats, anticipating the long-awaited moment. familiar livery passes over the finish line and lando norris has won the miami grand prix. 

she screamed and cheered hugging the nearest engineer to her, breathing heavily as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. the garage rushed the barriers waiting for their golden boy to jump out of his car. she wasn’t as close to the front as she had hoped, being squished by many papaya uniforms. She watched as he sprinted to them, to her, jumping into the crowd bearing the same colors on his race suit, hoisted onto the shoulders of his team.

she looked at him and saw the biggest smile she had ever seen break out on his face, matching her own. as soon as he was let down, they locked eyes, and it looked like he was about to cry. she closed the space between them, wrapping him in a hug.  

she stood on her tippy toes, wrapping her arms around his neck, his slung comfortably around her waist squeezing her as if he was scared she’d disappear. “I knew you could do it,” she whispered in his ear, her simple words only meant for him to hear.

a small “thank you” was all that was said in response.

before he pulled away, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek, the pink gloss that coated her lips staining his face unable to be wiped away before he made his way to the cooldown room. she held her hands in front of her chest finally letting herself breath, a soft smile tattooed on her face as she watched him go. 

never in her life would she declare herself a religious individual–she’d never set a foot in a church before–but for the first time she felt as if her prayers were answered. 

she stayed still for a moment, watching as people rushed to get the best view, staring at the podium; the top step that would soon have landos name written all over it. she wanted to cherish this. she wanted to soak it up and let it stick to her memory like honey.

a posh british accent startled her out of her thoughts, “you should probably start walking over to the podium if you wanna see him properly.” she looked behind her and then looked up, it was george. his sharp features were unmistakable, no description strong enough to truly convey his presence. 

“yeah, you’re right.” she said, oddly nervous. she had talked to george plenty of times in the past, and she’d even dared to call them friends, maybe it was the adrenaline finally washing over her, or the fear that anything could push her out of this dream and she’d wake up in her floral sheets, alone.

he followed behind her as they made their way through the crowd, pushing people before they made it to the front looking up at the podium through the many fences. she pushed her dress down as the wind blew through the humid air, what felt like hours passing before charles took his spot on the third step.

the cheers for him were loud but faded quickly, they all knew who they were there to see waiting for him to take his spot on the top step, where he always belonged.

she hoped that once he stepped up it would feel like a place he didn’t even know he was homesick for. she wanted to feel as if he belonged there, because she knew he did. 

she watched as max stepped up through her tear-blurred vision. she didn’t like how much this meant to her. it was like she’d won, instead of lando. she hated how attached she had gotten, she hated the idea he didn’t feel the same. 

the mclaren driver walked up with the confidence of a man who had done this all before, but with the shock of achieving his childhood dream, it was hard not to be emotional.

lando walked up, clad in his orange suit, with curls she wished to run her hands through, pink kiss mark still on his cheek. she’d stained him as he had stained her body, mind, and soul.

the british national anthem had begun to ring, familiar in her ears, though she was only looking at him as he’d looked up to the sky. his face glistened in the sun, his eyes shut and at peace. 

it wasn’t until the trophies were being handed out that she had let the tears fall. they streamed down her rosy cheeks like rain droplets on a rose petal. 

he’d held the trophy in front of him in disbelief taking a deep breath, though she was the only one to notice the clear rise and fall of his chest. max was the first one to pop his champagne, immediately attacking lando with the bubbly liquid. lando smacked his bottle onto the ground with his iconic pop, a geyser of  alcohol spurting up into the air. 

a few moments after the podium sitters all attempted to spray one another, a now-drenched lando took a sip from the bottle before setting it down, finding her eyes in a sea of thousands. 

they always seemed to find each other, especially when she figured he’d be too preoccupied to look for someone as little as her. she didn’t realize how much she mattered to him. her lips turning upward into a small soft smile reserved for him.

he walked off the podium and she assumed he needed to do his post-race interviews, leaving her wondering what words he’d used to describe his joy.

Instead of leaving for the media pen he made his way to the crowd, heading directly for her, he had some interruptions from fans and drivers alike, but he continued towards her. 

“are you okay?” the concern in her voice was evident, she was his rock, his stability, the thing that held everything together when things got crazy. despite her having nothing together herself.

his calloused, rough-to-the-touch fingers contrasting her own as he held her lightly, like he was afraid she’d break under his touch.

“can we get away from all this?” he asked, it was unlike him, he loved the crowds and he loved the excitement they brought to the paddock but here he was softly holding her hand asking to be alone with her. it warmed her heart at the thought. the thought he wanted to spend a minute of his celebration with her.

they’d walked beside one another through the crowd making their way through. they ended up back in the mclaren garage in his driver's room. she’d been there before a couple times, mainly to play mario party despite her disdain for the game (mostly because she wasn't very good at it). this time, though, it felt more intimate. more meaningful.

“lando, are you alright?” she asked once more, her confusion and worry only growing, this was so unlike him pulling them away from a crowd, staying as silent as he was. his excitement from the win and meeting one of his many goals was still evident on his face but from the rocking on his feet and the biting of the inside of his cheek, she could tell he was nervous. 

they’d been quite close, and despite once making fun of lando for his height or lack thereof, she was now looking up at him, something he never let her forget.

he nodded, though he still was chewing on the inside of his cheek. “are you sure? you're not being yourself.” the tension in the room built as the silence between them grew, air heavy with unresolved feelings and questions of ‘what are we?’.

“I can't take it anymore.” was all lando said before he kissed her. one second his rough hand was caressing her cheek, and the next his lips were on hers. she’d gasped softly, before relaxing into it. this was the last thing she expected from him. they’d always been close, and even after all these years of not seeing one another, they had come back like nothing had changed.

she was still his good luck charm. 

 they melded together like pieces of a puzzle, moving in-sync. her arms around his neck, his hand on her cheek, his other arm still holding her gently by the waist. he smelt heavily of champagne, tyre rubber, and gasoline. and thought it wasn't the most appealing smell, it was so him and she couldn’t get enough of it.

it hadn’t been her first kiss, but it might’ve been the only one that ever mattered. she wrote in kiss scenes over and over again, never finding the right words when it came time to type them out on the page. thinking back, none of them could have ever compared to the shock and contentness she was feeling.

they pulled away from each other, his lips shining with remnants of her lip gloss, he let both hands rest on her waist, holding her close. he sported a grin on his face, “guess i’m going through my goal to-do list today.”

“ i was on your to-do list?” she asked, tilting her head with a furrowed brow. he began to giggle at the implication of the sentence, her mouth slightly agape as she realized what she had said as well. “you’re a child.” her exasperation was clear as day, though it didn’t stopped him from laughing..

They stilled for a moment before bursting into laughter, both elated with the outcome of the day “yes, you’re on my to-do list.” 

she lightly shoved him, though she remained in his arms, not wanting to move, afraid if she did she’d never be able to go back. “shut up.” she responded playfully resting her head on his chest, closing her eyes as she let out a soft laugh of joy, finally where she wanted to be. 

𝜗𝜚… tags , @whitcferrari @c-losur3 @lclitaa @forurforeverwinter @stinkyjax @littlexscarletxwitch @spideybv28 @ijustgomessitupx @sweetrclief @aadu2173 @chezmardybum

[sinisterexaggerator]

Final Straw

Nick Valentine x Fem Reader | Ao3

Summary: You're sick to death of listening to people insult and belittle Nick; you take matters into your own hands, much to the Synth's surprise, but your methods are a little bit unorthodox.

Warnings: None, except for blood, violence, and foul language. NICK GETS SUPER PISSED AT YOU, and you also share a kiss. 💋

IT'S FLUFF.

Notes: This is SELF-INDULGENT AF. I hate it when people insult Nick in the game. This is my way of getting them back! And I want to kiss him and tell him I love him so bad. ;-:

Word count: 2k

It was the final straw, the one that broke the brahmin’s back, Nick Valentine left to defend himself against hate and bigotry for the umpteenth time, and you would not be party to it.

For so long you had traveled by Nick’s side, learning of the many facets to his personality. If there was a single thing about him you did not like, it had to be the ease with which he practiced self-deprecation, not knowing how to remedy the awful perception he had about himself.

Oftentimes, he regurgitated what came out the mouths of others; it had been internalized, compartmentalized, processed, and stored in his long-term memory, the detective unable to let things go—just like so many cases that remained unsolved.

“Shit, a Synth— don’t come near me. What a freak, thinks he’s human…”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go near you if it meant tomorrow I’d wake up from this nightmare.”

Your soul ached, knowing that every insult, every snide remark caused some level of psychic damage to your partner, his expressions all too readable for those times he was robbed of his fragile dignity, though always walking away the bigger man.

A culmination of varying factors led you to this, Nick’s tragic past haunting not only himself, but you; what you wouldn’t give to make it better, only wishing you had the power to convince him he was worth more than half the Commonwealth combined.

If Valentine could equate himself to nothing more than garbage, you could be the one to remind him that someone else’s trash was frequently another’s treasure— in this case, he was yours.

Though not privy to your feelings, you adored Nick completely. So much so, you were not above engaging in a physical altercation on his behalf.

“Say that again,” you threatened scathingly, turning to face the asshole who had just dared to disrespect your companion, and for no good reason.

“I said he’s a freak, lady—and what’s a pretty thing like you doing traveling with him, anyway?” the ill-mannered caravan guard asked, acting as if Valentine was some disease he could catch, making a blatant show of his disgust. 

The hired gun pulled no reaction from the Synth, though Nick stared at you tight-lipped, unnatural, glowing eyes trained hard on your face. His silence spoke volumes, instructing you with a stern look beneath the shade of his hat to drop the matter and turn the other cheek—it was something you weren’t willing to do this time, meeting your newfound enemy head-on.

“Apologize!” you demanded, shoving your adversary backward with a forceful push, both your palms making contact with his ribs. Your cheeks burned, accompanying a rise in your temper, readying yourself for if this vermin should do anything but grovel at Nick’s feet.

“Forget it, this guy ain’t worth it,” Nick offered laconically, hoping to appeal to your common sense. “I’ve heard worse in my time; being called a freak is the least of my concerns.”

“But you’re worth it!” you protested, Valentine’s forehead arcing upward at the conviction in your voice. He had a momentary lapse, his concentration faltering as he tried to get a handle on the situation, Nick having visualized an entirely different outcome based on variables that were currently in flux—namely the sudden change in your mood.

It seemed the shithead had caught on, smarter than he looked, eyeing the two of you with suspicion and derision, as if the very idea you could have feelings toward this hunk of junk was baffling when able-bodied, strong men like him existed.   

“Oh, I get it. You’re real sick, lady, a real pervert—you fucking a machine? What’s the matter, human men aren’t good en—”

The jerk was cut off mid-sentence, your balled up fist coming into contact with his jaw; a resounding crack split sound waves as blood spurted from his lips. His colleagues had already wandered off down the road, not wanting to be a part of whatever trouble he had found himself in, having silently agreed to let this member of their team fend for himself.

“You fucking bitch!” the guard twice your size growled, swinging wildly only to miss. Your leg extended; you were pleased when he stumbled, only wishing he had fallen flat on his face.

“Now, wait a—”

He was quick to right himself, spinning on the ball of his heel—you were quicker, kneeing him in the nuts so hard he doubled over, but you weren’t finished yet.

Lifting your arm to gain momentum, you drove the point of your elbow into his spine, causing the offender to drop onto the dirt at your feet.

“I'd say he's down for the—”

Nick couldn’t get a word out; you didn’t appear to be listening, the android observing your uncharacteristic actions with rapt concern. You were pounding your knuckles into the bastard’s nose repeatedly, sticky crimson coating your fist and the man’s sorely wounded face.

As if coming to from a trance, Valentine whisked forward, snatching your wrist before you could cause the poor schmuck any more damage, thinking he may look worse off than even he, what with his bare wires and metal frame exposed to the elements.

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?!” Nick barked, his tone alone condemning your inappropriate conduct, the Synth yanking you up so fast you audibly gasped.

“There ain’t no excuse for this—this guy may be a jackass, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to die!” Nick protested, brows knit in anger the likes of which you had never seen.

You glanced down, only now seeming to notice the extent of his injuries; the man was out like a light. You only cared because he did.

“Nick, I—” you began, voice quavering, losing all resolve as you had been forced to witness Valentine’s sweet disposition vanish, quickly replaced by something undeniably frightening.

You never once imagined yourself to be the victim of his choler, finding you absolutely hated it, breaking down all at once to cry despite not meaning to. You felt simultaneously overwhelmed by guilt and embarrassed beyond measure, unable to look him in the eye.

“Don’t Nick me, this isn’t like you, this—” The man froze, his grip slackening as he loosely held on, thoroughly confused by how you could go from nearly murdering a man in cold blood with your bare hands, to shedding tears in the span of under a minute; he moved to grasp you by your shoulders.

“What’s going on?” he asked, perplexed, the question dry on his tongue. He searched your face for any hint of what the matter was, wondering if you’d lost a screw sometime after leaving Diamond City, as he thought he had a handle on how you operated.

You could not will yourself to respond, vision clouded, droplets pelting your cheeks as you gazed at the ground. You felt worse than a scolded child; you had never meant to upset him so, it being decidedly more terrible than any physical pain you had yet to endure.

“Look at me, damn you!” Valentine demanded, gently jostling you back to the present moment, though your tears only increased, Nick having never cursed at you before.

“Valentine,” you whispered, eyes shimmering, Nick’s fury subsiding to a dull roar as he waited for you to explain yourself. The crease of his brow evened out, the Synth notably more relaxed, though he did not trust you wouldn’t lash out again.

“Go on,” he urged sharply, wanting to get to the bottom of your behavior. It was unnerving, not knowing what else you were capable of at the drop of a dime.

It was an understatement to say that he was surprised when you lifted your arms, pulling the man forward to enfold in your tight embrace. You buried your cheek in the tattered, stained fabric of his coat, crying more softly now as it started to rain.

“Don’t listen to them,” you pleaded, “don’t ever listen to them. You’re perfect just the way you are,” you spoke with earnest, your lips pressing a tender kiss to the spot that lacked a heartbeat, though the gesture stood apart on its own.

“I can’t stand it—the way people treat you, the way they talk down to you—if only they knew—if only they could see what I see—” you sobbed, the sound of your cries muffled against his chest; it was firm, his shirt smelling like coolant and ozone—cigarettes mixed with something earthy—you breathed in deeply, overcome with silent relief when Nick placed his metallic hand on the crown of your head.

“I... I appreciate you, doll,” he started, his voice turning toward a soothing cadence, the way he pet your hair in long, slow strokes comforting you more than it should. “But you didn’t have to do that; would have preferred if you didn’t. Jerks like him get their comeuppance, but it shouldn’t be at the price of dirtying your hands.”

You had never been this intimate with him, nor had you ever planned to be—his words were unscripted, and his affection given of his own volition. You curled in tighter, nuzzling your way into the crook of his good arm, wanting to entomb yourself there for all eternity.

“I’m sorry,” you offered apologetically, feeling the pressure of Nick’s own arms around you, returning your hug, making you feel as if you could die happy at this moment, not minding in the least that there was an unconscious, bleeding man lying only a hairbreadth away. “It hurts me, like I know it hurts you.”

Nick was quiet, mulling over the fact it didn’t do you or him any good to disparage his own person when there were others to do it for him. He had never considered the effect it might have on those around him; it came naturally to want to harp on his own shortcomings—or had it come natural to the real Nick? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it.

“You’re right, it does. But I shouldn’t let it bother me, not when I have people like you by my side.”

“I love you, Valentine,” you countered, not recognizing the softness of your own voice. You felt a shift beneath you, your head being coaxed to rise by way of a slow tilt of your chin.

Nick stared down at you, gleaming, golden eyes emoting dolefully as he gazed into yours. He held a deep-seated sorrow, not only for you, but for himself, wishing that he was human, if only so he could touch you, hold you, kiss you the way he wanted to.

“That’s not the smartest thing you’ve ever said, but I take it you mean that,” Valentine replied, bending low to brush soft, silicone lips across yours of flesh and blood; they were cool and rough in texture, but not unpleasant. The fact he was kissing you at all was a dream come true.

“With all my heart,” you replied, cupping the Synth's battered cheek in the bowl of your palm, fingers trailing over artificial skin in a light caress.

“So, that’s what this was all about,” he remarked, conjuring up a smile. “You know, I’d give you mine,” he added solemnly, his glum tone indicative of something he was not telling you.

Instead of elaborating, Nick changed the subject, always one to brighten a dark mood. “Next time, just tell me what’s on your mind instead of beating the living daylights out of some poor schmo, all right?”

You managed a smile of your own, delighting in his sarcasm, glad for the fact your confession had taken a lighthearted turn. “I can’t make any promises,” you quipped.

The detective gave a small shake of his head, that lopsided, infectious grin of his spreading up one side of his face. “Taking a page out of my book, are you?”

“I learned from the best,” you breathed, kissing him once more. Though selfish of you, for all you cared, the world could undergo another nuclear war, and you wouldn’t bat a lash, not for as long as you had your funny Valentine.

[mixelation]

do you think itachi could genjutsu someone so hard they died? like with normal genjutsu since tsukuyomi is a little more like mental time dilation i guess (and I'm convinced that tsukuyomi definitely can kill someone)

oh man, absolutely, but not necessarily a direct result of the genjutsu itself.

so, a lot of people interpret genjutsu to be "weaker" than how i usually write it. like a lot of people interpret it as entirely a visual thing. but even jus using it as a visual, you can make someone misjudge a jump and fall to their death, you can disorient them in a swamp and drown them, etc. you can absolutely kill someone just with minor visual genjutsu.

now, i usually interpret genjutsu as potentially affecting all senses, because I don't see how some of the more extreme ones we see in canon would function without that. so this elevates us to "someone could die from shock/stress," although that's dependent on the person's health and not the genjutsu itself.

for writing itachi specifically, i like making him scarier than regular genjutsu users. so for him i'd have things like manipulating emotions, implanting false memories, or tricking you into thinking you can't breathe on the table. again, none of that will kill you directly, but it could affect your decision making or exacerbate a health condition.

[stompandhollar]

I have some….. harsh(?) words for rtd.

I miss when Doctor Who was scrappy. Where the working class was at the forefront of our story. Where the hero had a broken time machine and one shitty little gadget that only sometimes could do anything useful. When the TARDIS was cobbled together with glue sticks and a dream.

Rose as a story worked because it was paired down. ALL of good DW works when it’s paired down. The stakes aren’t the whole world or the whole universe ending. The charm and the stakes both come from the same place— focusing on the characters, and making their problems the central focus. Blink was stunning because the world wasn’t in danger, just Sally Sparrow, and for 40 minutes of runtime, she was the focus of the viewer’s world.

The “base under siege” episodes work because it matters just as much to us that the Doctor gets the crew to safety as it would if the whole universe were in danger.

Even Utopia works because while being a high-stakes-for-humanity episode, it’s focused heavily on each character, and on concepts, not flashy visuals and dramatic build ups with no payoff. Utopia has exactly the right level of stakes for the story it’s telling, and the twist at the end delivers because it’s on that same level.

Ncuti is phenomenal. He and Millie are the only reason I’m sticking around (with s14, not with DW. I metaphorically sold my soul to this show a long time ago and that’ll never change) and watching each new episode with the hope that it’ll get better. But good gracious we do not have a lot of substantial evidence to back that hope up right now, lol.

The dialogue is hollow because we don’t sit with any characters long enough for their emotional moments to hit home. These brilliant actors can’t even save the scripts they’re being given.

I liked Rouge so much because it felt so bottled within its own episode. The stakes seemed so low, and it was fun and campy and the energy was electric. But I’m disappointed all over again with the Marvel-ization of the show in the newest episode. We saw it in the 60th specials, and it’s back swinging again in TLORS.

We don’t want Stark Tower SHIELD UNIT and their big flashy technology to save the day. The Doctor running straight to UNIT for help at all was crazy to me.

Part of me got so excited when Death was revealed as the big bad. The deluded part of my brain immediately thought we’d get a paired down concept of Death, like in the Big Finish Master audio drama. And I still really hope that happens, or is at least a little bit alluded to. (or maybe not. maybe i want to write that story myself some day when i’m in the damn writers room for this silly perfect show) But as soon as they got my hopes up, they got dashed again five seconds later when it became evident how overpowered and goofy and trope-y our big bad is shaping up to be.

RTD shines when he’s writing characters full of hope and wonder and a need to see the stars. Moffat shines when he’s writing twisted little think pieces that show the indomitable human spirit. Both of them have had my heart and changed my life with their writing. And right now I need them both to take a back seat and pass the baton. Russel keeps trying to outdo himself, and it’s all become too grandiose.

We need a writer in that room that doesn’t care how The Doctor is going to save the world next, but instead, cares about how he’s going to save that one person right in front of him, who needs his help, now.

[sonicrainbooms]

Wrecker does not have a cybernetic eye.

Now, don't get me wrong, you can definitely headcanon him as having a cybernetic eye but it is not canon. And again, to be clear: the hc doesn't actually bother me at all. I just want people remember it's fanon and not canon.

I don't blame the general fandom for thinking he has a prosthetic eye. Not having use of a whole eye should have left him half blind with poor vision and even worse depth perception, but none of that was present in the show. It's easy to forget he even has a damaged eye. It was pretty much done for aesthetics, unfortunately. So no wonder this headcanon is so popular.

But even visually, his damaged eye looks really different to what we know cybernetic eyes look like. Here are Wrecker's eyes compared to Wolffe's, who we know for a fact has a cybernetic eye. (Excluding Rebels!Wolffe, which has a totally different art style and I don't feel that it's fair to put it against TCW and TBB)

You can see Wrecker's eye is more milky, the pupil is more whitened out compared to the iris but the iris itself is still there. There might be some faint traces of brown still present. It's very, VERY similar to damaged eyes IRL, especially ones that have been damaged by exposure to hazardous chemicals which we know Wrecker certainly would have been exposed to as the demolition expert. Wolffe's eye is completely grey, clear, the thick outlines around the iris and pupil do not look natural and you can literally see the gears (or whatever, idk) on the side of the pupils extending to his sclera.

In my honest opinion, Wrecker having a cybernetic eye just doesn't suit his character at all. He canonically hates medical procedures, so I don't think he'll be all too willing to go under and have his eye removed and replaced with a mechanical one. I think he'd simply choose to leave the damaged eye there, as a sign of his strength, and experience.

[kurokrisps]

//mini vent

I been really tired.

I don't like to share a lot about me irl but since I started job hunting this summer I just don't feel as "on" half the time if you know what I mean. I know a lot of people are like that, but I wish I had half the steam those same folks do to pump out whole art pieces and 10 page comics for this fandom. Some may say "aw you don't have to do that" and "focus on you" and half of it may be true but I just wanna give y'all 100 percent.

I want to give myself 100 percent.

I have been trying new hobbies in the midst of waiting for this game - new visual novels mostly, cus since discovering this game, I've just been so in love with the concept. All the push and pull for it's fruition is tiresome but I got all the patience cus I'm I love with the characters and story so much.

I used to not get how some people can feel like that - have a "comfort thing" - but I'm really feeling it during this uhh I don't wanna call sort of slump in my life. It just gives me something to look forward to most days.

But in the meantime, I obviously won't just wait on a game to make my life better. I'll be better for me, my family, and all you guys.

[saphira-approves]

Random headcanon, but I think Saphira would be enamored by drag culture. Honestly I think a lot of dragons would be but Saphira in particular is a) fascinated by ✨Shinies✨ and b) notably preoccupied with her own appearance. She would be FASCINATED by people who take fashion and gender to extraordinary exaggerated heights.

Honestly Alagaësian drag culture would probably have a ton of influence from dragons—you know, the bright, colorful, gem-like manifestations of magic incarnate. There’s definitely a trend to wear slit-pupil contacts and paint scale patterns with tiny glued-on crystals into their eyeshadow, and wear those claw finger cap things. There’s probably awards for “most creative integration of wings and/or tail into hair or outfit” given at any drag show that has more than one dragon-inspired look, with solutions ranging from long ponytail or lifted cape (basic) to fully articulated extra limbs (no magic, because that would be cheating) to wild abstract interpretations (someone once walked onstage with just pieces of paper tied to their back with “wings” and “tail” written on them in like five different languages. yes this one won the award.).

And that’s not even touching on elf drag, elf drag is a whole other beast, elf drag has elves like Blödgharm who normally look absolutely wild walking the runway in normal human cosplay, but with exaggerated features like extremely round human ears or extremely square human jawlines. In other circles you’ve got elf drag shows that ramp up in stages of “oh yeah this is a regular drag show” to “oh my god the trees that have been here the whole time and which i assumed were part of the forest have started walking the runway” to “that is a deer. that is straight up just a deer that wandered into the show. whatdoyoumeanit’sgettinganaward-”

Urgal drag involves exaggerating their horns with intricately carved extensions, often wood or bone, but sometimes the horn of another animal or even another Urgal—one famous Kull Urgal drag king used his late father’s horns to great effect. Their competitions also usually involve combat in some form. Basically it combines drag shows and wrestling into the ultimate “dress up in elaborate looks with elaborate personas and over-exaggerated rivalries and throw down about it” pastime. They also tend to focus on makeup rather than clothes—obviously what they do wear is still intricate and beautiful, often woven to tell a story or represent a clan or idea, but the REAL visual focus is the exaggeration of the physical form, turning a broad muscled chest into that of a bear or bird, or even a mountain, animated into a humanoid form. Basically imagine if the colossi from Shadow of the Colossus were drag personas, you’d be pretty close to what I’m envisioning here.

Dwarf drag is heavily rooted in clan identity, rather than gender, as well as religion. Dwarven drag houses will often come together within a clan and claim a patron god, with all the hostility and rivalries that would entail. As a counter-culture to this, there’s always a few subversive houses established to welcome anyone from any clan, or for those ostracized from their clans, which often face vicious backlash and are ascribed reputations of dishonorable traitors, though they are rarely outright declared criminals. This results in a subculture of “anonymous” drag, where these subversive houses protect themselves by maintaining secrecy of their members and numbers, and craft personas and looks that also act as disguises. Though to some this only reinforces their untrustworthy reputations, these secretive houses are staunch bastions of those treated unfairly by dwarven society, with a perspective greater than clan ties, and due to their anonymity have been influential in several key moments of dwarven history in uniting the clans for crucial decisions.

Werecat drag is done entirely in cat form. It’s definitely done in the style of the “Be Best” competition from Centaurworld, ie to be your best self, whatever that is. There’s never a winner because every werecat votes for themself. Yes even the judges. Yes even the audience. It’s basically a big party of self-appreciation taken to narcissistic heights. Every participant gets a prize, and that prize is not getting mauled by the judges for not voting for the judges. When dragons start doing drag, this is the model they follow.

Alagaësian drag. I just think it’d be neat. Happy pride everybody.