#there's so much nuance in him that I like trying to figure out

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I'm just curious since I absolutely adore all your trans Ed fics, what made you read Ed as being trans? Is it more of a personal headcanon since we tend to see ourselves in fictional characters, or did you notice some tiny detail on the show that made you think so?

Oh my friend, I'm so glad you ask.

The cool thing about reading Ed as trans, I think, is that you do not even have to squint to do it. Literally you need to change exactly nothing, and this read suddenly adds a lot of nuance and additional juicy layers to his story and his journey with masculinity.

Ed's whole deal with masculinity, precisely exactly all of it, makes him feel so much like a trans guy who never outgrew the "I need to be hypermasculine so I pass" phase, fitting that read so precisely that given there are trans writers on the OFMD team I would be absolutely SHOCKED if at least some of it wasn't intentional. Every single trans guy I know has been through a version of this, where you come out and you know you're a man but you need everyone else to know, too, and so you lean very hard into masculinity to make damn sure you pass. And not just pass, but pass perfectly. Ed is forcing himself into such a heavy ideal of masculinity that it feels artificial; he needs to make sure everyone sees him as this perfect ideal of a masculine man that he cannot possibly live up to because no one could.

Certainly, parts of Ed's hyper-masculine presentation seem to be things that genuinely make him happy and bring him joy. That's important. Ed's happy to be a man, the problem is that he's trying to force himself into such a narrow idea of masculinity that it's stifling him. It's preventing him from enjoying more ""feminine"" things that he genuinely loves, because he's terrified of being seen as less of a man for it, and people like Izzy reinforce the idea that if Ed fucks up in his performance of masculinity, he's going to be in danger because of that. It's very real, and the added juiciness from reading Ed as trans adds so much to the great story that's already there, I think. There's this additional element of Ed knowing he's a man but needing to make sure everyone else could never doubt it, there's an additional perceived danger to slipping up, there's a sort of jealous admiration for guys like Stede who seem, at least on the surface, so much more comfortable with a different type of masculinity that Ed wishes he could have more of.

And on top of that, there's just a lot of other little additional things, like:

Ed making his beard his whole brand, it just screams beard dysphoria and "no one could ever claim I'm not a man because the beard is my whole THING."

Something about his relationship with his name, and how hard he has to try to get people like Izzy to call him by his name in front of others

The way Ed is dehumanized when he dares to step outside a very safe, masculine gender presentation - it's why Izzy saying "this thing you've become" when Ed is wearing a robe and painted nails hits so hard for me, I think

Okay. okay. listen. You know the scene where Ed makes CJ whip him in the balls. Listen. Ed baby. It just SCREAMS "people here don't know I'm trans and I don't know how much getting hit in the balls should ACTUALLY hurt so I'm gonna lay it on really really thick just to be safe"

There's a lot to be said about Ed and his clothing in a lot of directions, but I'm gonna leave it at how he's really figured out a safe set of clothing that works for him and consistently allows him to be read as this super masculine guy, and he's scared to step away from that. Also, I really like imagining the full-fingered gloves at the end of s1 as a way to cover up the nail polish on his fingernails until it wears off.

I think it's very sweet that Ed tends to be very private when talking about his personal and sex life with others, but a very, very easy explanation for how that got started is he just doesn't want to go around sharing personal details about his body with people!

Yeah. A trans read of Ed is so shockingly easy, fits so well, and adds so much to his journey, frankly I'm amazed it's not more common.

[martianbugsbunny]

"Can you wipe out that much red?" and "You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code. Something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!" that kind of gives Loki talking about himself. In Dark World it seems like he feels there's no way he can possibly repair the relationships he's broken, so there's no point in trying or even showing that he's remorseful and willing to work to amend things. Maybe in Avengers he's already starting to realize that he's gone too far, starting to think there's no coming back from what he's done and he might as well just live in it because there's no chance of making things right. In the Battle of New York, when he's fighting close-quarters with Thor, he seems genuinely frightened of what's happening around him for a moment, but he says "It's too late" and then stabs Thor. It's too late to stop the fight, it's too late for him to switch sides, it's too late to make up for what he's done, it's too late to have a better relationship with his family.

[prentissluvr]

hold me, it's enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : "who did this to you?"

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence. 

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional. 

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

[psychotrenny]

I don't think "Fascist" is a very useful or accurate thing to call Caesar and his Legion (from Fallout: New Vegas) in the context of the game world itself. Like there are a lot of aesthetic similarities and basically all of their unironic real world fans are some sort of Nazi Nerd, but when talking about their place within the context of fictional post-nuclear Nevada it just doesn't work. Like Caesar's whole deal is that he's a Social Scientist who, living in a world that's been "blasted back to the Stone Age", figures that society must evolve through the same stages if it wants to properly return to modernity. The Legion is basically comprised of "Primitive Communists"* who've been forced into a Slave Society. His criticisms of the NCR boil down to them being a moribund remnant of/reversion to Old World Capitalism rather than something organically adapted to the post-Nuclear world. He repeatedly talks about how the Legion isn't meant to represent an ideal society but simply a stepping stone onto something better (the thesis that will clash with it's antithesis and evolve into a superior synthesis). His interactions with the Courier heavily imply that the Legion's Misogyny, Homophobia, Tech aversion etc. are much more tools of social organisation and control than values that Caesar personally holds. The Legion isn't just some band of mindlessly violent reactionaries but the product of very deliberate Social Engineering; a peculiarly post-nuclear sort of scientifically planned society

Now I'm not defending the Legion as a "good" choice or anything; Caesar's plan has a lot of problems, it's not hard to poke holes into and in terms of unadulterated cruelty The Legion is easily the most morally repugnant of the main factions. But the thing I really love about The Legion is how, within the specific context of Fallout's setting, it makes sense. Like once you really think about it you can understand why someone in Edward Sallow's position would arrive at these conclusions, and there are good reasons why (if you take your roleplaying seriously and don't treat the Player Character as an extension of yourself) someone living in this world might chose to side with him. The Legion may be terrible but it's not evil for the sake of evil; there's genuinely a compelling ideology behind it.

It's why I get sad when I see so many people dismiss them as the "dum dum fascist slavers" because there's so much more to them than that. Like I think the best part about The Legion is how ridiculous they first appear ("These raiders dress like Ben-Hur extras?????) but once you find out more about them then it all starts to click ("Oh I see their leader is trying to assimilate them into a distinct and alien culture in order to maintain their loyalty; severing their previous connections and giving them a whole new identity"). So it sucks to see so many people get caught up in the first part and never make enough connections to reach the second. Like in general, Fallout: New Vegas is very messy and flawed and yet it's full of all these interesting little nuances and I think that's worth appreciating it. It's why, time and time again, I keep walking down that dusty road

*in the very broad sense that Fallouts "Tribals" are meant to represent people who have reverted back to some sort of pre-state society; of course there are countless problems with how Fallout treats this matter (including but not limited to incredible amounts of racism) but in order to understand Caesar we're forced to meet the game on it's terms

[achaotichuman]

Acotar Rant

Whenever I see shit like ‘Tamlin is depressed and wants to die because Feyre left him’ ‘He’s so desperate for Feyre and that’s whats driven him to this point.’ All I can think is, do we just collectively think Tamlin is immune to trauma??

To even grasp this situation you have to go way back before the book even starts. Tamlin was preyed on by the pedophile that helped ruin his childhood who then cursed him because he told her no.

He then had to watch all his close friends die in vain for him while he desperately searched for decades for another solution. He brought in refugees fleeing from other Courts. He. Carried. His. Dead. Citizens. And. Hand. Buried. Them. And he had to do it all without ever being able to fall apart.

The Feyre came along, and he learned to care for her. He didnt want her to just be used to break the curse because he didnt want to just be using her. He fell in love with a person that saw past the mask (both figuratively and literally) and allowed him a safe space. One that had long ago been stripped from him.

Then she was sexually assaulted, tortured and killed in front of him. He watched the love of his life die for him and he was completely unable to do anything about it.

Then he was given another chance to protect her and he took it. Granted this is not to excuse his actions, but there has to be some nuance given to the fact that he watched her literally die and was by the grace of God given another chance.

Then this same girl that he loved and desperately wanted to protect from the same thing happening again, was kidnapped. This same woman then tricked him into believing she had once again been raped by the same monster who assaulted her under the mountain and killed his family.

The very same woman then mind raped his sentries, his friends, and then proceeded to destroy his Court which he had spent decades trying everything in his power to protect, from the inside out. Then allowed Hybern to rampage through, destroying a neighbouring Court in the process.

He had to watch his people die all over again, when Feyre lied to him, he saw her dying under the mountain all over again. And he still went to war! He was spying on Hybern and gave over vital information about them to the High lords!

Then he dragged Beron out by his neck to fight for Prythian.

And when all was said and done he helped bring back the monster that had destroyed him mentally all for the sake of the girl that had killed his people.

Then he left them all alone in the end. Spring was abandoned and him along with it. This man, who very clearly has abandonment issues from the fact he was rejected by his family and beat within an inch of his life to the point he ran from home to the War Camps, was left completely by himself.

Lucien does come to see him once every now and again, but I also don’t blame Tamlin for not wanting him too. Considering even though Lucien had extremely valid reasons for leaving when he did, he still left Spring for dead without an explanation.

In the end, it is not ‘Tamlin needs to get over himself and his ex’ its Tamlin needs an extreme amount of mental help. He is a survivor as much as the rest of them.

Not even Feyre was able to recover from her mental health without a ton of fucking help. No one was, everyone got their support groups in the end

Tamlin went through it all without ever taking himself into consideration and still made it. He deserves to be able to fall apart.

[writingrock]

petals of longing

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: after spending time with bakugou, you couldn't help but make the dire mistake of falling in love with him.

notes: angst, unrequited love, hanahaki disease, mentions of blood, college! katsuki bakugou, rejection

word count: 2.2k

a/n: I lied, I have more angst in my drafts.

edit: there's a continuation here

Has he ever noticed you?

After listening to Bakugou talk about training for the past hour, you couldn’t help but rethink about your presence in his life. The two of you are in his dorm room, having another one of those late night conversations. You weren’t sure when but having late nights together became normal.

It didn’t matter whose room or what the conversations were. The only thing that mattered was that it had to only be the two of you. At first, it started off as night study sessions but it devolved into something more casual.

The two of you got close by chance. It all started with some assignment where the two of you happened to be paired up. From the beginning of the project, he had displayed his frustration to be paired with you. Something about being paired with ‘some extra’. You paid no mind to his comments and essentially forced him to comply with you.

Bakugou did eventually get used to you. Working with you was effortless. Not like he'd ever admit that. He liked working with someone who cared like you. It was refreshing to see someone match his hardworking nature. There were late nights and countless revisions over this project. It was tiring. You could recall how badly you wanted to yank your eyeballs out during certain nights.

But the two of you kept encouraging the other, keeping each other alive and motivated. Bakugou always specifically made sure you were eating. To the point where he cooked for you during those study sessions. It was always paired with his long spiel about how important it is to take care of your body. Ironic, considering the number of sleepless nights the two of you shared over this project.

But it was all worth it when the assignment returned highly-graded. The look on Bakugou’s face when he read the commendations from the professor was memorable. Pure satisfaction. These two words describe his expression perfectly. The way his eyes gleamed with a sense of achievement when he read the professor’s comments.

You’d never seen such a proud grin stretched on his face. “We make a pretty good team.” he remarked as he admired the result displayed on your laptop’s screen. You should have realised then that you saw him differently. Whilst his eyes remained glued to the screen, yours were admiring him.

You thought that would be the last you’d see of Katsuki Bakugou. That the two of you would return to being strangers after the project. Afterall, he wasn’t ecstatic in being your project partner initially. To your surprise, Bakugou started hanging around you. In subtle ways of course. It started with small texts about lectures— asking about deadlines, exchanging notes and arranging study sessions.

At first, you didn’t think much about it and figured it was beneficial to both parties to become study partners. But it slowly became more than that when he started inviting you to do stuff with him. Accompanying him to the grocery store because he needed help with the groceries. Making you watch him cook so you could learn and try his new recipe. Then eating with him because he made too much.

Before you knew it, the two of you became friends. A friendship that most did not expect and even questioned. Spending time with him brought the two of you closer. Peeling back the layers of Bakugou and uncovering the nuances that uniquely made him who he is. Learning easy details about him like his favourite foods and hobbies. Occasionally, you'd hear snippits of his deeper thoughts if he'd allow.

You even got used to his insults, forming witty comebacks in response to them. It stunned him when you fired back at his words for the first time. Resulting in endless banter you deal with daily. His brash exterior you once deemed unnecessarily aggressive became something you understood. The closer you got, the softer he became. However, with that came a flower.

A tulip.

A blood-stained, pink tulip that you retched out one night. You jolted awake one night, gasping desperately for air. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as the coughing fit intensified, each spasm more forceful than the last. Did you get sick? Another violent cough wracked your body. No, this is definitely something else. Fear gripped your heart when you realised how clogged your throat felt. The panic you felt that night was unmatched to anything you’ve ever experienced. Throwing the covers off your body, your mind raced for answers. The air felt thick, suffocating, as you stumbled out of bed. You barely made it to the bathroom, the cold tile floor sending a shock through your bare feet. What was happening to you?

Falling to your knees in front of the sink, your reflection in the mirror blurred by the tears welling up in your eyes. Your heart pounded hard against your chest. With a final, desperate heave, the mystery lodged in your throat finally gave way. You doubled over the sink, feeling something solid and foreign in your mouth. Trembling, you opened your lips, and a delicate pink tulip fell into the sink, its petals slightly crushed but unmistakably beautiful. The vibrant colour stood out starkly against the white porcelain, its soft edges smeared with the faintest trace of blood. A cold wave of realisation settled in your gut like a stone. You have it don’t you. You weakly draw a slow breath. Hanahaki disease—the tragic, unspoken affliction of the lovelorn. A disease born from unrequited love.

You just had to fall in love with him.

The tulip in your hand was just the beginning, the first bloom of many. And as you stared at its delicate beauty, you felt the bitter sting of irony—the same love that had once filled your heart with warmth and hope was now destined to consume you, one petal at a time.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ pink ] - caring, attachment, happiness

Has he ever noticed you? Did he notice the times you’ve hurriedly excused yourself to throw up these plague of flowers? How much weaker have you been? Or even the trail of pink petals you leave behind? Your eyes find him leaning against the bed frame, scrolling on his phone. Oblivious to your suffering. How you wish you could be blissfully ignorant too. It’s been a month since you learnt of your condition. You’ve tirelessly tried to fall out of love with Bakugou. Avoiding the areas he frequents and making lame excuses that you can’t see him. Texting him less and telling yourself that he’s just some asshole. He’s not even that good looking. Right? His deep, rumbley voice isn’t attractive at all. Bakugou’s voice belongs to an old man who eats cigarettes. Plus, his attitude sucks. There's absolutely no reason for you to love him.

Oh, but… one look at him and it all crumbles down. His eyes, fierce and crimson, are like molten embers—burning with a relentless fire that you’ve always admired. Those wild locks you love to run your hands through. His chaotic crown of ash-blond spikes that comedically defy gravity. It frames his face in a way that accentuates his sharp features. Specifically his irritatingly perfect, sculpted jawline. And, of course, his voice never did sound like a senile smoker. You’ve always found his gravelly undertone to be hot. His looks weren't the only thing that made you gravitate to him. The air around him crackles with raw energy and confidence. He's strong-willed and fierce, he's unforgettable. You want to be by his side and watch him achieve his ambitions. Aside from all that, it's how soft he becomes when it's just the two of you. No matter how much you told yourself you didn’t love him, he only needed to appear for your heart to race. Lying to yourself was useless.

Deep in your lungs, you could feel a tightness that’s been building for weeks. You knew it was getting worse yet you refused to confess. But this curse wasn’t going to give you time. It hits you hard. You catch on quickly that this flowery misfortune is flaring up now. With you sat on the floor of his dorm. The pain in your chest intensifies, a sharp, burning sensation that spreads to your throat. Your stomach twists with anxiety and fear, but beneath it all, there’s a quiet, desperate hope. It dawns on you that you are unable to keep your secret for much longer. You have to tell him now. It doesn’t take long for Bakugou to take notice of your pain. Alarmed, he goes to your side, putting his hand on your back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t look too good.” His voice carries a gentle warmth, confused with the sudden change from you. Softly, he rubs circles on your back in an attempt to soothe you. Unfortunately for you, his concern only makes the tightness worsen.

“Katsuki, I have to tell you something– ” Your voice trembles as you utter those words. You’re barely holding it together from the twisted pain. Just as you take one shaky breath, a cough forces its way through. A red petal lips past your lips, falling to the floor. The petal alone being the confession you were meant to voice. You press your hand over your mouth, letting out a sob.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ red ] - declaration of love, true love, eternal love, romantic love, believe me

“I… love you Katsuki. I’ve always loved you.” The words come out in a rush, each one a painful release. “From that moment we got assigned together, you’ve taken my heart.” You can’t stop the tears now; they spill over, sliding down your reddened cheeks. Each breath you take brings another cough, another handful of those red petals, each one soaked in the essence of your clandestine love. The petals start to fall faster now, flooding the floor with these red tulips.

Bakugou is frozen in place. His widened eyes stuck onto the floor that is now scattered with red petals and tulips. The moment that petal flew out, he knew what you’ve been suffering with. Reluctantly, he turns to look at you. “You…” What does he even say in this moment? Words lose him as his mind races for a solution for this whole situation. Something has to ease your pain. Is there a cure for this unforgiving disease? Bakugou knows himself and the reality of this situation. The cold, harsh reality is that he doesn’t love you. His features harden as he grits his teeth, swallowing hard. “You… hopeless idiot. Fucking hell.” Is all he manages to say. He can’t bring himself to crush you with the raw truth. His lips twist into a scowl. Why did you fall in love with him? Why did you make the mistake of loving him? You absolute fool.

“I never wanted you to fall for me.” he wished to say.

He doesn’t need to say it. Another flurry of petals erupt from your mouth. These red tulips are stained with blood. The fluid sticking on them in sickly sweet fashion. His hesitancy is the only answer you need. His silence speaks volumes. Bakugou does not love you. Your heart sinks as you find the courage to face him. To take one look at the handsome face you’ve grown to love. However with one look, you regret ever catching a glimpse of him. That detached, impassionate expression of his shattered your heart. How could he look at you with such indifference as you regurgitate your declaration of love. You didn’t blame him for not feeling the same way. But the way he looks at you makes you feel sick. You couldn't accept how he's looking at your pain as if it were meaningless.

He looks at you like you’re nothing to him.

“Look.” With your remaining strength, you fist up a bundle of these petals. Shoving them in front of his distant gaze. You wanted him to see them, the raw consequences of your love for him. Red petals, dripping in red secretions in your grasp. Blood dripping from your fingers to the floor. “I am literally head over heels for you,” You spat, a few more petals leaving your mouth. Facing his glare with your own. It’s hard to speak but you need to. You need to scream at him. Did all of your memories with him mean nothing? To look at you with such an apathetic expression hurts you more than this wretched disease. There never was a chance for the two of you.

“But here you are,” You scoff as you lower your hand. Letting the petals sink to the floor. You should have known better. He's right. You're just a pathetic fool. A fool that can't even bring herself to hate him even now. “indifferent to everything that I’m feeling.” A full bulb of a tulip tumbles from your mouth. The final, yellow tulip lands silently by their feet. Your heart sinks, and the pain in your chest doesn’t disappear. Why does your quivering heart still beat with such passion for him? The yellow tulip stands alone, its petals vibrant and golden, glowing softly in the light. Blood clinging onto its velvety surface and seeping into the grooves of the petals. Everything dissipates, you only feel despondent.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ yellow ] - brightness, sunshine, hopeless love, unrequited love

You pull away from his embrace, accepting the rejection. Wobbling as you rise to your feet and turn to the door. Bakugou tries to reach for you, trying to find the right words. You don’t entertain him, swatting his hand away as you shake your head. Turning to the door before he could catch sight of the fresh tears in your eyes. You walk out the door with heavy steps and an aching heart. Now with every breath, flowers bloom within you to remind you of a love that will never be reciprocated. Your unrequited love.

a/n: just something quick because my brain was rotting. I don't offer free therapy on my blog, sorry :) @chocogoldie

In case you needed me to say it, hanatokoba is japanese flower language.

Reader's last words are from the angst prompts over at @me-writes-prompts !!!

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

[felassan]

From Game Informer:

Solas plays an important role in the game as a central figure and significant character, but the game is not about Solas, hence the title change

Rather than focusing on a specific individual, the focus and centerpiece of the game is Rook's team, stopping the end of the world with this group of specialists

"I think you could argue [these companions] are the best the franchise has ever seen". We will have the opportunity to interact with them in a way that both shapes their story and also influences the main story, including having the opportunity to impact their fate

"Arguably, this game has kind of, in a way, been called Dreadwolf to some degree since its earlier days"

Excerpt:

"When I ask about Solas' role in the story after I learn his namesake is no longer in the game title, Darrah says Veilguard is still taking the Elven God's narrative in a good direction. He adds, "It allows us to, hopefully, give a good conclusion to all the varied attitudes toward Solas that are going to be coming from people who love Solas, who agree with Solas, who hate Solas, people who want to kick Solas off of a building – I think that we give you the opportunity to bring that to a close, but then tell a greater story about The Veilguard and about the world as a whole." Talking to Epler, I learn more about how Solas isn't exactly the big bad I expected before seeing the opening hours of Veilguard. There's a lot more nuance to everyone's favorite bald elf.  "The most interesting villains to myself, and honestly most people, are not just straight up, 'I want to end the world.' To them, they are the heroes of the story, and Solas is no exception," Epler tells me. "Solas always feels that he is a tragic hero but a hero nonetheless, so he's coming into this believing firmly that what he did, that which you stopped him from doing, was the right thing – that you made a mistake. But now he's trapped and can't reach out and actively affect [Thedas], so he needs to work with you. "That allows us to provide a lot of nuance to that relationship," Epler says."

Solas is literally trapped in the Fade after the game's prologue. Rook and co stop his attempt to destroy the Veil. Rook passes out and wakes up in a dream-like landscape to Solas' voice. He explains that he was trying to move Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain to a new prison because the old one wasn't containing them properly anymore. The two blighted gods are now free and roaming Thedas. Rook has to stop them, but it seems that they will have to work with Solas ("or at least listen to his guidance and advice") to do so

Excerpt:

""So one of the principles we took to when we were building the story of The Veilguard early on was we wanted the beginning of the game to feel like the final chapter of an earlier story and you're coming in right at the end, you're coming in as if you've been chasing Solas – the [Solas at the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition's Trespasser DLC] who said he was going to end the world and tear down the Veil," Epler adds.  Epler says players will see early on (and as the narrative develops across Veilguard) that Solas sees much of himself in you, the player-controlled Rook, especially "the parts that maybe he doesn't like to face." As a result, there's an interesting push and pull between Solas and Rook. He says players can define the relationship between these two characters with their choices in dialogue.  "You can continue to be suspicious and hostile towards him, or you can start to see him and find that common ground, that connection between the two of you, and really develop a different relationship over the course of the story," Epler says."

[source]

[featki]

Lemon boy !

— pairing: 西村力 x reader — contains: slight angst, fluff — now playing: 一子青葉

Lemon boy - Cavetown

Part 2

"There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy. He was growing in my garden, and I pulled him out by his hair like a weed"

Riki Nishimura.

You were new to school and he was appointed as your guide. You tried to make friends with him but he wasn't very talkative.

Despite that, you were still nice.

You'd see him in class, which was all of them as you guys shared the same itinerary. Every time you spotted his eyes you'd walk over and smile, trying to strike up a conversation, he never had it.

He'd stare at you blankly, and walk away quickly. Not wasting any time to say goodbye.

You thought you got close when he finally replied to your nuance but he only let out a short "Okay" and walked away for what felt like the billionth time

"And like weeds do, he only came and grew back again, so I figured this time, I might as well let him be"

You were curious as to why he was so blank all the time so you followed him through his day. Not in a creepy way, he knew you were there, but he didn't tell you to leave so you continued.

The whole day he didn't speak to anyone.

He ate alone, walked to class alone, and studied in the library alone. Never once did you see him talk to a friend.

-

The next day you asked around.

"He doesn't have any friends."

"He's weird..."

"He never talks, it freaks me out"

"All I know is he's an asshole"

Mixed with

"Leave him alone, it's a waste of time trying to be friends with him."

"Why are you talking to him anyway?"

The weirdest was when a girl said "Don't talk to him...You'll be cursed for eternity." and walked away laughing.

Intrigued you followed him again the next day.

Not once did he bully anyone like everyone made you think. He didn't even look up from the ground most of the time.

You got tired of all the same replies people were giving you, not even actual intel on him, just insults and bad-mouthing. Until one girl told you to ask an old friend of his, Jake Sim.

You met him in his algebra class, which you conveniently shared with him. "Jake!" He looked at you with surprise, probably because a stranger knew his name, but you didn't let him ask questions before you started interrogating him.

The questions went on for about a minute before he got a chance to answer, but luckily he answered them without questioning why you wanted to know. Because that would've been another long minute.

"Uhhhhhh, it's confusing. He was being bullied for a while" He paused "Not like serious bullying but they told him he was annoying, talked too much, etcetera. You get the drill"

You frowned at him

"Well, why aren't you guys friends anymore?"

He sighed and looked away kinda guilty-like "He turned like... bitter. You know? I know it's not his fault but it got hard to be around him. Almost sour like a lemon" Jake mumbled the last part and looked down at his paper, only to look back up at you and see a scowl on your face, "like a lemon?"

"yeah, lemon boy. That's what everyone calls him"

You were thankful for the info but annoyed so you left without saying bye, grimacing at him on your way out

"Weird..." Jake thought

"Lemon Boy and me started to get along together"

You weren't going to let the mean things people said, or the warnings they advised, stop you from trying to be his friend.

He wasn't mean to you, if he was that would be a different story, but he's not. So you persevered

You continued to talk to him in every class, his chair being right behind yours made it easy. You'd talk his ear off during break and even started sitting at lunch with him.

The first day you did, you had seen him sitting alone at a table in the far back, right by the doors. You had sat in front of him, he looked up at you as you started talking.

This time he didn't get up and walk away (Though you wondered if it was just cause he was too hungry to walk away from his food), but rather he just sat there. He wasn't necessarily acknowledging you but he wasn't ignoring you either. He'd occasionally look up at you then go back to eating his food which was good enough for you.

"I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather"

At the end of the day, walking in the halls, you overheard the English teacher lecturing Riki about his dropping grade.

Telling him to either work harder or get a tutor. Even the teachers were mean to him.

It wasn't that Riki wasn't trying, nor was he dumb. Literature just wasn't his strong suit, and that's where you came in.

You barged into the room, happy and energetic as always.

The teacher pointed to you "Ah, here. She's doing wonderfully, why don't you have her tutor you?" You looked at Riki and smiled. The plan is going perfectly.

Riki on the other hand looked at you, then the teacher, then the ground, and walked out past you. The teacher glared at him and shook her head, looking back at her paper.

You simply just shut the door and followed Riki, like you had been for the past 2 weeks now. "I really don't mind tutoring you by the way! I love English" You ended it with a sweet chuckle

Riki just looked at you, took a deep breath in, and nodded.

He continued walking and you continued following him, assuming you were going to the library to study.

You were right, and when you got there Riki took a chair in the far back of the library, not without a few stares as he walked through.

Sitting down with him you didn't want to waste time.

You pulled your books out and started. English was your favorite subject so you were very excited which made you talk even faster then usual.

Riki's mouth slightly agape he muttered quietly, "Slow down please.." He looked up at you, "Just a little" he said even more muttered than the first sentence.

You, shocked at hearing his voice for the first time, sat there with your mouth open. It made him nervous so he looked down at his book and started flipping to the page you were on.

He let out a little "sorry." which you quickly said was okay, and told him not to apologize to which he nodded.

It was nice hearing his voice, kind of deep, and super quiet. It was clear he was shy cause it was a little shaky but you thought his voice was cute so you took what you could get.

He didn't say anything for the rest of the session, simply just nodding and letting out a small "Oh" here and there.

7pm, when you guys were finally done, you asked "Next week after school?" as you grabbed your bag and gave him a smile.

"mm," he replied, nodding.

You gave him one last smile and wished him goodnight.

"Goodnight Riki"

If only you had stayed for a moment longer, you would've seen the slight smile that made its way to Riki's face.

"It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him"

The weekly tutoring sessions continued, and so did talking to him in class all day, so did sitting with him at lunch, and so did following him around school.

You even started sitting right next to him at lunch, rather then sitting across from him.

It made him nervous at first but eventually, he started scooting closer to you.

Rather than just looking back between you and his food, he started reacting

"But it was so annoying cause he was like "It's my house if I want to eat the ice cream, then I can eat the ice cream" but man I bought it" You complained before stuffing a spoonful of rice in your mouth, not expecting Riki to reply at all but he let out a small laugh

It was the cutest thing you ever heard.

It was soft but real. Not some fake laugh, he seemed genuinely kind of happy.

You smiled at him but looked away when he looked back at you and finished your story.

Riki started replying to all the little stories you told him.

Whether it was his adorable little laughs or small "yeah?"'s, he was warming up.

"So I got myself a citrus friend"

Riki started talking first.

Poking your back in class to tell you a dumb joke, giving you little notes, telling his own little stories, ranting about his weekend.

At one point he even asked if you wanted to walk home with him.

You smiled big and loudly said yes, to which he replied with a laugh and said okay.

From that point on you guys started walking to and from school together every day, you spent all day at school together and you even started hanging out after school. You were completely inseparable at this point.

He was the sweetest person ever, he was kind, caring, gentle, and he had the cutest smile ever.

You didn't understand how people could hate such a sweet boy, but you were glad this lemon boy was your friend.

@ featki

[simpforsolas]

As I continue to progress through the games on my replay leading up to Dragon Age: The Veilguard's release, the more I'm reflecting upon the heart of the series. As an RPG, the purpose has always been to create a dynamic game that responds to our choices, and part of that is to create a believable world that's real enough that there are multiple ways you can play the game. No ultimate "right" answer or "wrong" answer. Even if there are perspectives you disagree with, you can understand why characters may hold different opinions from you if you think about why they think the way they do.

With all these thoughts spinning around in my mind, I began my DAI replay and got a dialogue with Solas that I think gets right to the heart of the entire series:

Inquisitor: I've heard the stories [about Ostagar]. It'd be interesting to hear what it was really like. Solas: That's just it. In the fade I see reflections created by the spirits who react to the emotions of the warriors. One moment, I see heroic wardens lighting the fire and a power-mad villain sneering as he lets King Cailan fall. The next, I see and army overwhelmed and a veteran commander refusing to let more soldiers die in a lost cause. Inquisitor: And you can't tell which is real. Solas: It is the fade. They are all real.

This is it, people! This is what Dragon Age is all about! This is why we have characters who some people love and some people hate, why no one is perfect. This is why there's so much discourse about the game. Dragon Age is all about different people reacting to an imperfect world and understanding why they act the way they do. Especially in recent times, writers often fall into a trap of not wanting their characters to be problematic in any way that it can take the life out of them and leave them feeling stale. But Dragon Age does not do that. It fully commits to its characters, for better or for worse, allowing their pasts and perspectives to shape their imperfect world views and inform their behaviors. Ironically, Solas's exact words here about Loghain can be applied to him, and it's exactly why some people hate him while others love. Like Loghain, some see him as an egotistical murderer while others see him is a tragic figure whose empathy and idealism drive him to monstrous acts.

What's the truth? What is real? Ultimately, it doesn't matter. All that matters are the emotions and interactions people (players included) have with the world and characters. That's why the choices in games like Dragon Age matter so much. There shouldn't be a right answer or a wrong answer; all that matters is what feels right to the player. Because in Solas's words, all our different perspectives on things that happened? They're all real. And this is where so much discourse comes from. People try to take away the nuanced view of these characters and the world and insist that their perspective is the objective truth. Someone who loves Anders could be in danger of brushing past his many flaws while someone who hates him might be incapable of understanding the complexities that drove him to become the person he ended up. But in the end, all our different reactions to these characters are valid and real, both the positive and the negative. These characters are complex and three-dimensional, and to fully appreciate them it's imperative that we recognize that.

The Dragon Age world and its characters are so meticulously crafted that at its practically its own living thing at this point. As players interact with it, we all end up having our own experiences that influence our opinions of everything, from the characters, to what decisions are the best, to opinions on in-game power dynamics and politics.

[sh0tanzz]

Heyyy! I was wondering if I could request a post on anton’s ideal types / future s/o based on astrology?? I love your attention to detail in your works and just honestly your blog overall!! xx

THANK YOU SM AND HERE WE GO

ANTON'S IDEAL TYPE based on astrology

(reminder that this for fun and astrology is something I study for a hobby, these are all inferences based off of observations and not exact fact unless I knew him myself !!)

Physical Appearance:

Surprisingly I don't think he has that much of a specific type regarding things like skin tone, hair type, etc there's more indicators for aesthetics rather than overall physical being. Anton's Venus is in Taurus + he has an Aries Stellium. He'd be attracted to someone who is confident and comfortable in their own skin; confident enough to try/wear stunning bold makeup looks whilst also comfortable enough being able to go out with their bareface. He could like soft or "no makeup" makeup looks as well. Someone who presents as neat, has good style and wears nice accessories that aren't too flashy but noticeable. Healthy hair with a bounce to it. Someone who'd take HIIGGHH effort into taking care of themselves (skincare,haircare,shower routine). Could be into someone who's curvier or an hourglass figure (Idk why but I keep thinking about Volleyball girls. 😭) His mars is in Gemini which rules the hands so he'd maybe like someone with pretty hands or wears rings + gets their nails done.

Personality:

His Mercury is in Aries and he has the aspect Moon conjunct Mercury so he'd like someone who is very understanding and understands nuance enough so they don't take what he says wrong. (ngl I feel like his moon/mercury aspect gives him his soft soothing voice). Someone who speaks whats on their mind when communicating. Can just ooze healthy confidence and being self assured. A person who has a random/childish sense of humor just like him. Someone who allows him to be independant and can be independant. As said before his Mars is in Gemini which I like to call the sapiosexual placement, he'd want someone who loves to learn new info and has many interest and is able to have intelligent beyond surface level conversations with. Someone who has genuine opinions and can make up their own mind. Enjoys a person that can pursue what they desire and not become too deflated or hesitant about what they want; he just loves a sense of ambition. Essentially has their life together or at least has plans and goals they want to achieve. Can be on the talkative side he wants his own YAPPER.

Mentality/Values:

Someone who understands boundaries and doesn't try to push people with things they can't handle. Someone who practices gratitude and knows that being considerate goes a long way. Can stand up for the people they care about. Can be spontaneous and have fun but knows there are times where being serious and receptive is important.

Extras:

Could find someone who wears various high quality perfumes or scent sets attractive.

Finds flowy dresses and skirts cute perhaps, sundresses or clothes made of satin come to mind.

Someone who knows to be assertive/extroverted but still capable of being gentle and subtle could catch his eye

[avelera]

I saw a really cute post the other day imagining scenes where Ed protects Stede. It was sweet and funny and heartfelt and for some reason landed all wrong with me.

Then I figured out why: I don’t think Ed has ever protected Stede. It’s actually kind of a big plot point in the show. Even when he should have. But when Stede protects Ed is when Ed fell in love.

It’s a bit of a nuance and I’m too tired to quite remember all the ways I’m probably wrong but… Ed often rescues Stede. But he doesn’t protect him. He doesn’t prevent him or try to prevent him from doing things that would harm him.

I think that was another reason the post nagged at me. Because the funny examples were around Stede’s failures at piracy. But Ed, unlike everyone on the show, including the viewers!, doesn’t see Stede as a failure. It’s almost weird how much he doesn’t. It’s endearing too. It’s why the romance works.

Ed thinks Stede is unorthodox. New to the game. A bit rough around the edges. But all those skills come with time and practice. Ed is bored of skilled, practiced pirates. He wants flare. He wants daring. He wants a person who does it their own way. The rest will come. But you can’t teach creativity. Ed doesn’t give a shit about a perfectly skilled pirate, that’s boring as fuck. He wants to see a creative one.

To go back to protectiveness… Ed doesn’t protect Stede because he doesn’t see Stede as incompetent. He doesn’t prevent Stede from doing things before the fact. But sometimes after the fact like on the Spanish ship or against the English, he’ll come in after Stede fucked up and chooses to join him in facing the danger and consequences.

In comedy terms, Ed is very “yes, and…!” with Stede. Whereas protectiveness implies a certain amount of ending the bit before Ed can see the crazy places it’s going.

By contrast, Stede is protective of Ed and when he’s protective, Ed melts. Stede tries to prevent Ed from being hurt by the nobles and corrects his errors and very publicly destroys them on Ed’s behalf. Ed fell or fell harder in love right there. But Ed never tried to prevent Stede’s run in with the Spanish.

Ed’s a bit selfish, a bit blind to how to take care of others. Part of it’s the life he led. It’s part of why he’s so fascinated by Stede and his brand of piracy. He doesn’t want to stop the craziness before it begins. He really only steps in if death itself, something that might end Strede’s craziness, gets close but even then. He doesn’t protect Stede against Izzy. He lets those consequences play out. He can’t bear to look but he doesn’t stop it.

I think there’s more nuance and a lot of scenes I’m sure I’m forgetting where Ed is more protective but my overall sense is that this is actually an interesting nuance between them. Stede acted out of protectiveness when he left Ed on that beach. Ed didn’t go looking for Stede. He didn’t and doesn’t try to protect him. Unlike everyone else, Ed always assumes Stede’s choices are deliberate and competently made.

[arvandus]

Thinking about how adorably awkward Diavolo is, but also how sad he is too. This guy grew up super isolated with a father that neglected him, a “friend” that was obligated to play with him and cater to his every whim, and essentially raised by an ancient time demon that he “bullied” into serving him.

This poor guy has never ever had a single person be around him/with him by choice. Imagine what that does to him, to his self-esteem. The only one who has been with him by choice is Barbatos, but every now and then, Diavolo will doubt even that much, considering how he had “forced” him into serving him when he was younger (logically he knows Barbatos could have refused him; he was powerful enough to… but even then, the doubt lingers).

On top of that, he’s trying to join the three realms in a peaceful way, which I would guess not everyone in the Devildom is okay with.

Even when the angels fell, and Lucifer requested his help, Diavolo did it on the condition that Lucifer (and by proxy his brothers) serve him and the Devildom. Because even though they may have been somewhat friends (remember Diavolo planted an apple tree for Lucifer when he was still an angel), Diavolo had to act as a prince first, setting his own personal desires aside. His help would come at a price.

Everything he does is so motivated by this deep-rooted loneliness, forced by his position and power, and the choices he has to make because of it, keeping him isolated from others.

This persistent isolation and always being served by others has left a huge deficit in his people/relationship skills. The wild shit he says or does when interacting with those he cares about isn’t even intended to cross boundaries or rile them up half the time. He genuinely means it in the most innocent way. He hasn’t exactly learned what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate (after all, the only friend he had was Mephisto, who worships the ground he walks on and never tells him no to anything). So he’s learning that now, albeit a bit late. He really just gets an idea that sounds nice in his head, inspired by his love and respect for that person, and says it out loud in an effort to deepen his relationship (ie, friendship) with them. And fortunately for him, Lucifer is able to be patient enough with him and maintain those boundaries as he figures out all of the nuances of socially and culturally acceptable communication and relationship building.

That’s not to say that there aren’t times where Diavolo doesn’t say or do things on purpose with the intent of giving others a hard time. He’ll definitely say things to get under Lucifer’s skin; he likes to fluster him, and for Diavolo, even bad attention is better than no attention. But I think there’s also another purpose to it, albeit subconsciously, in that it allows him to experience healthy boundaries which he never had when he was younger. Lucifer has no problem saying no to him, even at times when Barbatos doesn’t (Barbatos is strict, but he’ll also dote on Diavolo at times too, in a motherly way). It allows Diavolo to feel equal with Lucifer, more friends/comrades than ruler/oath-bound servant.

It’s also the same reason (partially) why he tries to escape his work half the time, or will come up with wild ideas that Barbatos has to say no to. He likes pushing (just a little) against the boundaries placed by others in order to meet that resistance. In a weird way it’s how he knows that they genuinely care about him rather than simply serve him out of obligation. They tell him no when he needs to hear it, but they’re also forgiving.

He’s always known he’s not perfect, yet he was treated like he was for so long. It created a dissonance between who he was told he was versus how he was experiencing himself. Now, he’s allowed to experience, understand, and accept his own imperfections through those closest to him and how they respond to him when they maintain their boundaries. It validates his own self perception of being imperfect while also allowing room for growth and understanding that the imperfections are acceptable/allowed to be there.

I think the last lingering doubt of others’ genuine love for him is the fact that they literally cannot leave him, at least not without consequences. Sure, they can disagree, even fight him. But in the end, he’s the prince, and they’re bound to him by duty and oaths. If they weren’t bound, would they still stay and continue to be there for him? Or are they merely tolerating him? It’s an insecurity that still plagues him.

Anyway… not sure where I was going with this. Brain is just stuck ruminating on it. He’s such an interesting character, I love him so much.

[silverstonesainz]

congrats on hitting 2k daniiii

carlos sainz + "look, i know i probably should have backed off and i apologize." "no, honestly it was kind of hot." "what??"

can’t wait to see what you come up with 🫶

i'm so sorry about this. but thanks for joining babes <3

You were fuming– absolutely fuming. 

You shouldn’t be this angry, you almost feel insane for feeling this way. Your heart is racing, your skin feels hot, and you almost feel that if you stopped pacing the room that you might drop dead. Walking back and forth, from door to window, might just be the only way to alleviate all the pressure in your chest. 

But then you look up, look at the blank stare in Carlos’s eyes, and you were sure you were going to blow up. 

“What?” You hiss, “Stop staring at me like that.”

He blinks. He shakes his head and rubs his jaw. “I’m not staring like anything.” 

You groan, fingers finding their place between your tousled hair. You coil them around the locks, squeeze them into your palm, before brushing your hair flat. The adrenaline was slowly dwindling away and the rage was turning into regret. You wrestle with the idea of being in the wrong, that maybe you had crossed an unspoken boundary. Why should you react that way? Why should you be up in arms about a girl asking Carlos to see his room? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend. 

He’s not your boyfriend. Who Carlos is to you, stands in the middle of a spectrum of friends to lovers. You were less, much less, than a lover. But just enough more than a friend for him to be upset that you spoke to a brother. Just enough that seeing you so much as smile at a joke makes his blood boil. You weren’t lovers, god no not close. You shared just enough of whatever to care. 

“You probably think I’m crazy.” You breathe, planting your feet in the middle of the room before looking at him. You rest your hands on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, “Look, I know I probably should have backed off and I apologize, but–."

"No, honestly it was kind of hot." “– but she knew what she was doing and… what??”

Carlos shrugs. He leans back onto the bed, resting his wait on his hands, palms pressing into the mattress. His eyes gloss over, pupils blown just enough for you to lose sight of the warm honey color. “You’re hot when you’re all mad and bothered. And honestly, if it wouldn’t have gotten your chapter and mine in a heap of trouble, I would’ve let you have at her.” 

Your throat goes dry, head reeling at the confession. You can’t even begin to imagine yourself fighting with that girl, much more how Carlos might be at this moment had you done just that. You try to ignore his stare, the way he  leans into his bed that makes his torso look extra long and his hips positioned perfectly for you to sit on. God. 

“Have you fucked her before?” You try to change the subject, try to ignore every fiber of you begging to feel him all over you. 

Carlos coughs a laugh, shakes his head as he straightens his posture and messes with his hair. “Never.” He opens his palm out to you with a soft ven aquí. You hesitate, but only for a second because he has this look in his eyes. Beneath the lust and the desire, there’s a bit of softness you are not quite familiar with. He pulls you to him so your knees are flushed with his mattress between his legs. His calloused hands leave yours to trace your figure, stopping on your hips. He gives you no time to ponder that look in his eyes, no time for you to analyze the way his thumbs rub circles over your hips. “I’ve only got eyes for you bug… sólo tu.”

You fight a smile, biting the inside of your cheek instead. But he catches the little nuances you make– the twitch of your cheek or a quirk in your brow. Your facade doesn’t fool him. Carlos’s left hand falls to the back of your thigh, giving you a playful slap. You don’t believe me, he whispers. 

You shake your head, “Nope, but I am easily convinced.” 

Carlos chuckles. It's a second, then two, and then suddenly he wraps his arms around you and flips you onto your back. That glossy, damn near lazy look is in eyes again. “Great. I can be very persuasive.”

come to the kickback

[bildads-shoes]

I feel like Crowley has often played the role of 'philosophy teacher' in his dynamic with Aziraphale, and I think this is probably what ultimately led to most of the backlash against Aziraphale immediately post-Season 2, especially from casual viewers.

The Resurrectionists episode is super obvious about it, big Philosophy 101 energy, but it's of course a big running theme in the show, often addressing the classic philosophical/theological question 'if God/Heaven are all-loving and all-powerful, why do they make us suffer?'

In these situations Aziraphale is often needing to learn to break free of his black and white thinking. Of course, we, the viewers, agree that morality is not black and white, so we start trusting Crowley's ability in the teacher role.

And it happens again in the Final Fifteen: we cringe at the stark oversimplification of 'you're the bad guys', we agree that Heaven and Hell are 'toxic' with their rigid rules and roles. Having seen so many examples of this dynamic at this point, this can instinctively feel like a continuation of Crowley's 'morality is not black and white' lessons. Therefore it makes sense to me that the instinct can be to agree that Crowley 'understand[s] a whole lot better' than Aziraphale.

I could go on for days about why I feel Aziraphale's character is so much more nuanced than that, but I want to focus on Crowley here. When you start trusting someone in that 'teacher' role, it's easy to assume they have it all figured out. That's why the whole 'Crowley is an unreliable narrator when it comes to his Fall' confirmation always had me so intrigued.

It seems (to me at least) that Crowley probably made some very complex, grey choices as an angel (choices that were not as bad as Heaven feels, but not as good as Crowley likes to think, to paraphrase NG) and he is yet to accept the reality of those actions. To me, it feels like he's coped with that cognitive dissonance by entirely detaching from that identity at times, almost as though those were the actions and experiences of another person (the angel you knew is not me) whilst returning to the first person in moments of vulnerability (I only ever asked questions). Judging by the hints at Angel!Crowley throughout S2, I think (hope) we'll learn more about the Fall in S3, and thus see him finally need to internally resolve this

I think it'll be very interesting to finally see that dynamic flip, to see Crowley in the role of the student, trying to solidify his moral code and sense of self as we have seen Aziraphale do throughout the show.

I suppose I hope that in potentially having Crowley's own struggles with morality becoming more explicit on screen in Season 3, the broad attitude towards Aziraphale and Crowley will become a bit more balanced again. I think it'll be lovely to see them grow in their understanding and acceptance of themselves and each other, and finally reach a place of joy and freedom as individuals and together. We'll always have our own personal character interpretations, and I think that's wonderful and fascinating to hear about, but at the end of the day we're all rooting for their happy ending, and I can't wait to see them finally get it.

[wisecrackingeric-2]

Serennedy Pride Week day one- First Date/Raccoon City!!

He’s nervous for his first date ok!!!!!!!!

Bonus Drabble I wrote for @hamartia-grander under the cut!!!!!! :DDD you can also read it here!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56844493

“Thank You for taking me out today”

“Of course, ¡quierido! It’s been my plea-“

“I really mean it, Luis…”

Luis was cut off by the sudden, gentle lilt in Leon’s tone; a sharp contrast to the easy, usual flow of laughter that erupted from their conversations. Luis paused, just outside of the water fountain that sat square in the middle of Raccoon Cities park- the bubbling of water just loud enough to hide the quiet gasp that escaped his throat when he turned to face Leon.

His face was flushed, more so than usual; Cherry-pink cheeks accompanied big, wide darting eyes and wringing hands to paint a picture of nervousness Luis had never seen on Leon. Regret sunk deep in his chest- had it been a bad idea to ask Leon out for a walk about the city? Had he regretted saying yes, and was too shy to speak up hours earlier?

Or…. Had he caught onto Luis’ more…. Nuanced intentions?

Had he finally caught on that it seemed rather odd for an Umbrella scientist to take the entire day off of work just to hang out with a rookie cop he’d met only a day ago? Or that his flirting and warm touches went a little further than just friendliness and foreign charm? Had Leon seen straight past his confidence, his bravado, flamboyancy and his charm to stare down the secret he kept buried deep between his ribcage like a hawk circling its prey?? Had Leon figured out Luis was-

“You, ah… you're easy to talk to, and, um…”

Luis was snapped back to reality when he realised oh. Leon was trying to compliment him.

If his heart wasn’t racing before, it sure felt like he was running a marathon now.

Luis couldn’t lie to himself- he adored Leon. That boyish smile and scruffy blonde hair and uniform that looked too heavy on his shoulders caught his eye the second he met him. He wanted to give the man the world and more, if he’d let him. Unfortunately, a tour around Raccoon City was all he could afford for the time being- but not once did Luis ever even consider that Leon might like him back.

He held his tongue as he waited for Leon to finish. He didn’t want to get his hopes up… not yet.

“I-I’m really grateful that you, um, wanted me t-to, uh, I mean- that you-“

Luis’ heart squeezed tight when he saw the way Leon hung his head in defeat, kicking the rocks beneath his heels all the while.

“ Fuck, sorry, I’m messing this up-“

“No, nonono, look at me,”

Maybe it was a little bold, but without thinking, Luis brought his fingers to Leon’s chin and tilted his gaze up to meet his own; his big blue eyes going wider than Luis had ever seen them. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re not messing anything up, ¿sí? Nothing at all…”

He didn’t know why, but Luis felt compelled to lower his voice. He let his eyelashes droop a little and chose to ignore the way Leon seemed to instinctively copy him.

Mierda he wanted to kiss him so bad.

“I’ve had a lovely day with you, too, Leon. I’m grateful I got to spend it with you”

If Leon’s face wasn’t flushed before, it sure as hell was now.

He opened and closed his mouth multiple times before Luis chose mercy and let go of his chin, still holding back giggles like his life depended on it. Leon took the opportunity to take a step back, still stuttering over his words and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly but at least this time with a little bit of space between them.

“U-Uh, t-thank you very m-much-“

“There’s no need to thank me,”

Luis made a show of opening his arms out and resting his weight on one foot, jutting out his hip a little.

“Just another day of changing lives for Doctor Luis Serra Navarro, ey?”

That made Leon giggle. Messy, boyish and terribly contagious- finally giving Luis the opportunity to let go and laugh alongside him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d laughed so freely, but it felt warm in his chest and even a little bit like home.

“W-Well!! Maybe you’ll need to come back and, uh, ‘change my life’ again sometime??”

Poor Leon cringed at his own attempt at flirting. Luis, however, was totally enamored.

“¡ Por favor!! I think I may die if I never see you again!!”

“Hah. Yeah, ah, don’t do that. That’d be a bad idea”

An awkward silence hung between them. That lucid, in-between state of needing to leave but not wanting to weighed the both of them down like sinkers to a fishing line.

Luis (while desperately fighting against his body to do otherwise), looked away and coughed awkwardly to break the spell.

“Well, my dear Leon, I guess this is adiós for no-“

Luis was cut off by Leon’s lips against his.

He almost didn’t even notice it’d happened. Leon was so soft and so quick with it, it was over before he could even blink- his gaze being greeted with an incredibly red, incredibly sweaty and incredibly trembly Leon standing in front of him. He was wringing his hands out like crazy and his eyebrows seemed to be permanently knitted together in concern.

He was staring at Luis like a frightened deer; each second that passed only fuelled the anxiety and concern clawing away at his chest.

“O-Oh my god, I-I-I’m s-so sorry, Luis, I don’t- I didn’t know what- I-“

“ Hey,”

Luis was quick to place gentle hands on the rookies shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze

“ Sssssshhh, está bien, Alright? Está bien…”

“I’m so, so so sorry I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“Leon,”

Luis cut him off again. A little more stern, this time.

“It’s OK. I liked it”

“ What??”

Leon looked as if Luis had just confessed to a murder. He tried his damndest not to laugh, but the relief in his chest that Leon wasn’t here to snitch his queerness out wasn’t helping.

“I, hmm, how do I put this-“

“You’re gay?”

“Well that’s one way to be blunt about it”

The two of them burst into inevitable laughter; joy, solace and relief filling their stomachs like a drug they couldn’t get enough of. If Luis felt like his laughter could be free before, then he sure as hell felt like he could fly now.

“ Dios mío, Leon, you have no idea how grateful I am right now-“

“ You’re grateful?!”

Leon blurted out with a smile,

“How do you think I feel right now!! I was convinced I was so dead!!!”

“Lo siento, cariño, I didn’t mean to scare you-“

“No no, it’s okay,”

Their laughter eventually died down, but at least for Luis, the adrenaline never really left his body.

“I just feel a lil bad now I didn’t give you a proper kiss…”

“Don’t be! How about I strike you a deal,”

Luis handed Leon a little Umbrella business card with his number etched on the back,

“Meet me here again same time tomorrow, and I can take you home and show you how to kiss proper, deal?”

“ Proper? You mean-“

Leon cut himself off and blushed profusely.

“ Ooooooohhhhh-“

“Soooo, is that a deal…?”

“ Please.”

Luis threw his head back and laughed, giving Leon one last kiss on the cheek- that he was sure left the poor blonde short-circuiting- before spinning around on his heels and waving him goodbye.

“ I’ll see you then, cowboy!!”

“Uh- yeah!!”

Leon shouted back, still recovering from his own kiss.

“I’ll see you then!!”

[anna-the-undertaker]

Nightmares and Nonsense

This is based on this post. I came up with that idea during one of my insomnia induced sleepless nights. I want to give special thanks to @anunholyabomination for inspiring me with the sheer hilarity of their comment on that post. So this is for you lmao additional tags: @leilakaro @sheep-from-rad

Belphegor's nights were an exercise in futility and simmering rage. Confined within the attic's gloomy walls, his disdain for humans stewed alongside a relentless boredom. The appearance of the human exchange student only served to ignite his contempt further. Yet, a mischievous part of him, the part that delighted in the subtle arts of manipulation and control, saw an opportunity in this unsuspecting human's arrival.

He discovered their dreaming mind by pure coincidence. While wandering the endless expanse of his own subconscious, a new dreamscape overlapped his, leaving Belphie adrift and puzzled. As a demon deeply acquainted with the nuances of sleep and dreams, he rarely encountered a dreamscape that could surprise him—at least he thought none of them could.

The dream before him was vivid, an intricately woven tapestry of colors and sensations that resonated with an unfamiliar yet undeniably human energy. He moved through it with the ease of a shadow, unseen and unnoticed, until he sensed a shift—a ripple of awareness that prickled at the edges of his consciousness.

Turning towards the source, he realized it was the human, and tried to get closer, intrigued by their control and clarity, and eager to exploit this opportunity. But before he could get any closer, a voice, clear and authoritative, cut through the dream’s fabric.

“Did I give you permission to come here?” The voice was neither hostile nor welcoming, carrying a tone of nonchalant power that Belphie wasn't used to being subjected to.

Startled, Belphie had barely a moment to register the dismissal before he was forcibly ejected from the dreamscape. He woke with a gasp, the abrupt return to his own consciousness leaving him disoriented and a single thought crossed his mind, “What the fuck…”

The encounter, however brief, sparked an obsession in Belphie. Night after night, he tried to re-enter the human's subconscious realm. Each attempt, however, ended more ludicrously than the last. The human didn’t just eject him but began to twist his appearances into increasingly absurd scenarios.

One night, he found himself manifested at the edge of a surreal circus. No sooner had he entered he was transformed—his dignified demonic form altered into that of a clown, complete with oversized shoes and a garish red nose. Before he could react, an imposing figure that his dream-altered mind couldn't recognize appeared, tall, bearded and dressed in top hat and singlet, shoving tacos into his mouth while shouting about something called Reese’s Puffs. In the background, aliens, decked out like gangsters, were busy robbing some place called a Chuck E. Cheese, stuffing their bags with what they loudly declared to be diamonds.

Another attempt saw him materialize in a dream-designed version of the wild west, where he was immediately put on a horse that had a mind of its own. As he struggled to maintain his balance, dream-created characters pelted him with bizarre questions about quantum physics—a subject he had no knowledge of, much less in his sleep. The absurdity peaked when the horse decided to join in the conversation, offering insights in a surprisingly sophisticated British accent.

At some point he was a fearsome pirate aboard a sinking ship, desperately trying to scare MC with threats of walking the plank, only to have the scene dissolve into a bizarre beach party where MC forced him to participate in a limbo contest. The dream characters cheered on, including the tall man from before who inexplicably acted as the DJ, blasting 80s pop hits.

And again, he was a villain in a medieval setting, ready to lay siege to a castle. Just as he began his threatening monologue, the scene shifted, turning him into a court jester reciting Shakespearean insults while juggling tomatoes. MC, dressed as the ruler, laughed from their throne, utterly unfazed by his supposed menace.

The indignity of it was almost too much, and he had withdrawn with a seething anger, masked by a forced calm. Yet, Belphie couldn't help but admire the human's deft control over their dreams. It was an ability he hadn't anticipated, one that both infuriated and intrigued him.

After numerous humiliations, Belphie's approach shifted. Perhaps he could weave himself into their subconscious as a constant, albeit ridiculous, presence. Allowing the human to get used to him would make it easier to manipulate them later, but that meant going along with their little game. He knew there would be no way to hide that he was a demon, but that was just a small change to his growing plan. Gradually, his intrusions became less about domination and more about persistence.

Finally, the human seemed to tire of crafting bizarre punishments. Belphie found himself simply present in the dreams, no longer transformed or tormented. He was just another character in the ever-changing tapestry of the human's dream world. This sudden normalcy felt like a cold truce, and while part of him was relieved, another part—a dark, vengeful slice of his soul—simmered with unresolved anger.

When they eventually met in person, the attic's dusty gloom illuminated by the intrusion of this peculiar human, Belphie’s feelings were a complex web of grudging respect, lingering disdain, and a peculiar curiosity.

“You,” Belphie greeted, his voice cool but laced with an undercurrent of amusement and annoyance. “Quite the dream weaver, aren’t you?”

The human's grin was all too knowing, their eyes sparkling with mischief. “Had to keep things interesting. You demons take yourselves so seriously.”

Belphie scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “You have no idea what you’re meddling with, human.”

“Maybe,” They conceded with a shrug, their confidence unshaken. “But I think I can handle it. Can you say the same?”

The challenge hung between them, and despite everything, Belphie found himself intrigued. Here was a human, capable of turning nightmares into farce, of standing toe-to-toe with a demon in the battlefield of dreams. As much as he hated to admit it, this might prove more interesting than he’d anticipated.

And, of course, he could find a way to use this to his advantage after all.