#this was not supposed to be such a long rant

[ggukivrse]

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!

ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!

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You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb don't know how to not betray you.

It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.

And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.

You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.

But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.

You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.

Then pick it back up five seconds later.

Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.

You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.

Why did you let this happen?

Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.

And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.

That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.

You haven’t heard his voice since.

You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.

Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.

But then, why didn’t you reach out?

Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?

Because you’re afraid.

Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.

Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.

Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.

You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.

Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.

Kook 🍜: hi

One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.

Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.

You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.

You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook

It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.

Three dots appear.

Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.

Then come back.

Then vanish again.

You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.

A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.

Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?

You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?

You feel sick.

There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.

Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.

You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.

You should’ve been more careful with your heart.

But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.

You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.

You: Where?

Kook 🍜: i can come to yours

You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.

You: What time?

Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?

You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.

You: Okay

You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.

You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.

But you know you won't cancel.

Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.

You need to know for sure.

Jungkook is fucked.

Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.

He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.

He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.

Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.

He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.

The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.

It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.

And it just… hit him.

The weight of it. Of you.

He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.

And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.

And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.

He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."

So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.

And now you’re pissed.

Rightfully so.

He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.

He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.

What the fuck is he even going to say?

Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?

Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?

Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?

The elevator dings.

Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.

He’s here.

Fuck. He’s actually here.

Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.

You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.

But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.

He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.

You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.

He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.

You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t

He doesn’t even try.

Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”

His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.

You narrow your eyes. “Well?”

He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”

You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.

“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”

You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”

He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.

“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”

You stay silent.

He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”

You scoff under your breath and look away.

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”

You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”

He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.

“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.

So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.

Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.

“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”

His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.

“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”

You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.

“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.

You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.

Jungkook takes another step toward you.

“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”

You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”

Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”

That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”

You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.

Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.

“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”

Silence again.

Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”

You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.

You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.

And now he has.

He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I hate you,” you say quietly.

It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.

Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”

You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."

You pause, pressing your lips together.

“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.

His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.

He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.

“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”

He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You stare at him.

Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.

And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.

So you move.

You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

You kiss him.

Not out of impulse. Not for show. You kiss him because you need to. Because your chest feels like it’s going to split open if you don’t.

At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips — careful, slow. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.

But then he sighs against you — not loud, not dramatic, just a sound full of relief — and it unravels something.

His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and when your tongue brushes his, everything tilts.

The sweetness melts fast.

He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.

You kiss him harder.

His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. Not rough, not rushed. Just firm. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.

The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just feeling.

The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.

You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”

You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”

Then he kisses you again. Rougher this time. Desperate in a way that makes your knees go soft.

He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.

He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.

His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.

You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.

Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.

You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.

He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.

“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”

His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.

“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”

You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.

His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.

His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”

You smile, drunk on the feel of him.

“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.

He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.

He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.

You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.

Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.

You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”

You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.

“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.

You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.

You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”

The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.

Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.

“Koo,” you whine out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.

You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.

“Please.”

He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.

He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.

“Gonna let me take these off?”

He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”

“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”

He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.

You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”

You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”

He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”

His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.

Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.

Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.

“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”

He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.

You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.

“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.

He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.

“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.

He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.

“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.

He moans, but his movements don't stop.

Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.

His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.

You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”

“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”

He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.

His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.

"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.

He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.

He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.

Your legs part without hesitation.

His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.

He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.

His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.

He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.

He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”

You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.

He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.

His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.

The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.

“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”

That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.

“You promise?”

The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.

The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.

“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”

“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”

You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.

“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.

Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”

He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.

His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.

Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.

Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.

His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.

Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.

He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.

“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.

“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”

He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”

You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”

He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”

He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”

There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.

“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”

You snort. “So humble.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”

You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”

His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”

“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”

“I already want to punch you.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”

“This is my bed, dumbass.”

He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky?”

“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”

“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”

You laugh softly into his skin.

And he just holds you tighter.

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

[emeraldserenade]

hi!!! I was wondering if we could get a congresswomen!reader (Kinda Like Bucky?) with Joaquin? Like she's a thunderbolt (incorporate that however you want) and they are in love in secret

They are always stealing glances at each other and meeting up quietly even after the whole suing process

So imagine how the internet would react when two suppose 'enemys' are seen kissing (hugging if perfer). How would sam and bucky (my shaylasssss) react?

thank you so much in advance, you've been the only person who's actually done this request (if you do 🤞)

kisses, adria

Secret Lovers ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: You and Joaquín kept your relationship a secret for as long as you could

tw: fem!reader, reader's superhero name is Mystic, slight smau (there are some insta posts), cursing, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi, Adria!! I love the secret lovers troupe so much!! I don't know why anyone wouldn't want to fulfill this request but here you go!! I'm listening to Smosh Reddit Stories and they are keeping me going with writing today!!

➽──────────────❥

You met Joaquín before the whole suing process started, you were just visiting DC for your job as a congresswoman. You ran into him at the grocery store, tired of eating out and wanting to use the kitchenette in your hotel room. You literally ran into him, full on chest to chest, fall on the floor run into him.

"I'm sorry!" You announced from the floor, embarrassment tinging your tone. "I wasn't paying attention where I was going," you added on, accepting his hand to help help you up.

"You're the one that ended up on the floor and you're sorry?" He teased, his brown eyes sparkling under the florescent lights. You noted how unfair it was that he still looked so good under the unforgiving lights. "I'm Joaquín Torres, by the way," he offered his hand and you took it. You offered your name before speaking again.

"I ran into you, it's my fault. So yeah, I'm sorry," you told him, fake outrage in your tone. One that was easily seen through and laughed about. "But really, I am sorry about running into you," you added on, seriousness lacing every word.

"Well, can I take you out on a date then? Just so you can prove how sorry you truly are," he questioned and you smiled.

"I'm only in town for a few more days," you told him and his smile just widened.

"Then we can go out tonight," he said and you had a twinge of guilt in your stomach for what you were about to say.

"Joaquín, I'm sorry but I've done nothing but eat out for the last few days. I was really hoping to eat something homemade, or hotel kitchenette made really," you told him but his smile didn't waver.

"You can come over to mine, I'll make us dinner," he offered and when he saw you about to argue he kept talking. "I have no other motive, I truly want to go out with you. And I'm a great cook, I learned from my mamá," Joaquín said and you relented at the handsome man's words.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

That dinner started your relationship, one you two kept hidden because of the public nature of both of your jobs. Or at least, it started as just the public nature of your job before he became Falcon, then it was both of your jobs. But then you were forced into being a New Avenger. Very publicly in fact, so public that Joaquín called you not even a few minutes after the press release.

"Baby, what's with this New Avengers thing?" Joaquín questioned, no 'hi' or 'hello'. No 'I miss you' or 'how are you'.

"Fuck if I know! Valentina Allegra de Fontaine is crazy! That man, the one in the blue sweater, he was apart of her human experimentation. I wasn't even aware there was press behind that curtain of rubble!" You ranted and you heard Joaquín sigh lightly.

"Baby, I miss you," he said and you relaxed, realizing he wasn't mad at you.

"I miss you too," you told him, ignoring the looks from the others as they walked closer to you. You walked farther away, trying to keep your conversation private. "How are you healing?" You asked, worried about his incident at Celestial Island.

"I'm ok, just wishing you were here to kiss my booboos better," he joked and you let yourself smile.

"I'll come visit when I can, I promise," you told him. "I love you so much, honey," you told him.

"I love you more," he told you before the line went dead.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Sneaking around with Joaquín got harder once Sam started to sue The Thunderbolts, you still refused to call yourself New Avengers. Your job as a congresswoman was put on the back burner by some higher ups so you could focus on the new team, and that made it harder for you to justify going to DC whenever.

You went anyway, claiming you were meeting with other people who wanted your opinion. But you were standing outside Joaquín's house as you waited for him to open the door. "Angel, you're here," Joaquín breathed out and pulled you into a kiss. You melted into it, running your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and locking your arms around his neck.

"I said I was coming," you told him as you pulled away to breathe.

"I know, I'm just happy to see you," he said, pulling you in for another kiss.

You two were completely unaware of someone taking a photo of you two kissing on Joaquín's porch. But it wouldn't stay that way for long, both of your phones were blowing up not even an hour later. You were just trying to peacefully watch a movie together when you finally checked what was happening.

Lena: Care to explain this? Lena: Congresswoman and New Avenger Y/n kissing Falcon on his porch

Bucky: Y/n, what is this about you kissing that Torres boy? Bucky: I'm not mad at you. The opposite actually, you picked a good man if you're dating

Valentia: Not all press is good press Valentia: Star Crossed Lovers Falcon and Mystic?

You looked at Joaquín and he just showed you the messages from Sam.

Sam: Joaquín, are you dating y/n? Sam: I'm not mad Sam: I just need to know Sam: She's a good choice if you are dating

"We're fucked," you muttered before you had an idea. "We need to set the record straight," you told him and he looked at you.

"How?" His smile was still on his face.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by joaquíntorres, thefalcon, samwilson, buckybarnes, yelenabelova, and others

yourusername: Joaquín and I have been dating for years, long before I was a New Avenger and long before he was Falcon.

tagged: @/joaquíntorres

view comments

user2: I knew it! My ship is real!

user20: you were shipping real people? 😭

user2: They're my otp!

samwilson: I knew there was something there, he watches your press conferences too much for there not to be

yourusername: He does? 🥹

valentina_allegra_de_fontaine: So happy for you two!

yourusername: Sure...

joaquíntorres: @/yourusername can I propose now

yourusername: Not in my comment section!!

liked by yourusername, samwilson, buckybarnes, yelenabelova, and others

joaquíntorres: I can offically claim her as my girl

tagged: @/yourusername

view comments

yourusername: I forgot about those photos. God I love you, honey

joaquíntorres: I love you more, baby

yelenabelova: Fuck, you two are a hot couple

yourusername: Fuck yeah we are!! Look at my man

samwilson: How's we go from the wholesome post from @/yourusername to this filth?

joaquíntorres: I can't help it. @/yourusername always makes me horny

yourusername: Honey!! We need to put you through social media training

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You thought the fallout of you and Joaquín being together would be worse. But it seemed to fix a lot of things, Valentia was forced into letting you do a press conference without her there. You took that press conference to change the name back to The Thunderbolts, which ended the suing process. "And I want to clear up some confusion, we did not agree to be called New Avengers. In fact, we would rather be known as The Thunderbolts. Valentia Allegra de Fontaine named us without our knowledge or consent, so if you would be so kind as to call us by The Thunderbolts, we would greatly appreciate it," you gave them your practiced smile, the one that said you weren't changing your mind.

"You're one smart woman, y/n," Sam said to you as you walked off the stage; he was there with Joaquín while you did the press release.

"Thank you, Sam. I figured this would be a better use of my time instead of answering questions I'd rather not," you said right before Joaquín pulled you in by the waist to kiss you. You heard the clamoring of people behind you before the flashes and clicks of cameras went off. You smiled into the kiss but pulled Joaquín closer, if they wanted photos, you two would give them photos.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[ominouslemonnade]

tiny rant

ok im just gonna ramble a bit here.

So, to be honest, not really happy with the whole paywall thing slashfic got going on, every other painfully obvious important option that changes the course of the story's trajectory is hit with the hearts thingy, it kinda feels like the mc is being trapped in some sort of inescapable box . Ive noticed that everytime theres this "upcoming big moment" it leads to another downer and the authors are really milking and dragging it out for very long— by adding more characters that do not play a vital role to the main story, plotlines being stacked one after another ,it has gotten to the point that the whole of slashfic is getting difficult to keep track of, the storyline is messy with all these new plotlines, the character writing being done dirty. Despite all that, i think slashfic can *still* be made into something more interesting , something that is not as uncomfortable as the questionable ads they have...

Another thing— the development of relationships of mc with the main 4 is too quick, too forced i feel. Would've been more reasonable if the slashers slowly , and i mean by their own pace, gain trust in mc and not just literally jump right into "spice" .

So heres my conclusion to this: Slashfic has a very messy story, tricky to keep track of because of unecessary plotlines that add nothing to its supposed horror element. The whole mystery behind camp nevermoor, was working well enough JUST FINE. The settlers, the tree, lysa monroe and the cultists, and the involvement of the dunlaps with magic was a driving point.

And it got me thinking and brew more ideas.

1.) A comic, all things orgainzed into one. A comic where it gives us more insight, background or info/depth to camp nevermoor and the events that took place before the main conflict happened. This way, it could give more easy to navigate and understandable context to the main story and why it happened.

2.) A game, it has fun mechanics like a minigame and all. The game explores more on the main story, aka the recent events happening. This could also be an opportunity to see more into the lives of the slashers or camp counselors and explore their character by being given more information on each of them, be it their history or life growing up where you can play in their perspective to understand more, to feel the characters complexities and the nuances of why they are the way they are. For hearts, you dont have to pay, you earn them! Example: By playing into a sidestory of each character or do simple tasks that correlates to their preferences (Basically a whole grind system) So ; more hearts earned = increased bloodlust. As for the minigame, it could help build up your skills! (Stealth, agility, speed, strength, reaction) with each score adding to the percentage of each skill, and these skills helps you progress even more in the story.

Other games i played on dorian they were at a nicer level of decent , not too much paywall options and the story is consistent and progresses from its main point. Character writing is not very questionable but actually put into thought. Slashfic seems to be the leading game in the app but the way i see it, if the expensive paywall options and the excuse of supporting creators keeps going on coupled with not adhering to criticisms or suggestions , the game will be overshadowed by other games and it will soon loose its current spotlight because the way it is drives players further away from interest in playing because of its paywall problem. Each characters writing are just watered down blatant tropes and thats basically all that they are, its sad. I really thought slashfic would improve more on because the nevermoor story really did got my attention. Its a shame to see ive came this far along in the game to be met with a downgrade. But i still keep playing anyway and i do not know why, and honestly??? Im also starting to slowly loose interest having to wait so long and the episodes have gotten so short (lord spare me).

I already have art and redesigns in mind, these ideas aren't really much of a help to my motivation of finishing the plans i already have in motion😅

Anyway this is all!

@ xoxo-chrmy has a great concept for a slashfic rpg game! Check em out :]

[thesecond-if]

RO reaction to MC kissing them to shut them up during an argument? 👀

✝️ Father Isaac Rowe

You’re toe to toe, the air between you electric with tension. He’s angry, righteously, desperately angry. You can see it in the clench of his jaw, the way his hands fist at his sides. His eyes are stormy, a mix of fury and something darker.

He says, “This is wrong.” His voice is a low, dangerous growl, a warning and a plea all at once.

You say nothing. Just grab his shirt and crush your mouth to his, silencing his words with a kiss that’s all heat and hunger. And for a second? He breaks.

His hand cups the back of your neck before he can stop himself, dragging you in like he’s starved for you. His lips are hot, frantic, and sinful. When he pulls away, his breath is ragged, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back.

“Don’t… do that. Don’t make me fall.” His voice is a tortured whisper. “I was never supposed to want like this.”

But his thumb still lingers on your lip, tracing the curve with a gentleness that is so different from the storm in his eyes.

🎙️ Silas Wren

He’s pacing, ranting, his words are a torrent, and you can feel the energy radiating off him.

“You don’t see it, do you? The patterns, the signs—they’re everywhere—”

So you do the only thing that will stop him: you kiss him. Hard. Your lips crash against his, a desperate claim that leaves no room for argument.

He gasps against your mouth, and then he grins. Wide, wicked, delighted, a predator who’s just caught his prey. His eyes sparkle with mischief and something darker, more feral.

“Ohhhhhh my god.” He murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “You’re hot when you’re done with my shit.”

He pins you against the nearest surface, his body pressing against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. His mouth is on yours like he’s trying to taste your frustration.

“Keep shutting me up like that and I’ll never stop talking.” He mutters, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “In fact, I might just keep going until you beg me to stop.”

🚬 Detective Jonah Redd

You’re fighting close, too close. You’re both pissed, breathing hard, eyes locked like guns drawn.

“You don’t get to act like I don’t care,” he growls, his voice is low, mixed of anger and something deeper.

So you grab his jacket and kiss him like a punch to the gut. Your lips are firm, your touch possessive.

He grunts into it, surprised, but his hands find your hips fast. He kisses like a man who’s always one second from losing control. He wants to lose himself in you, to drown in the heat and the hunger and the desperate need that’s been building between you for so long.

He breaks the kiss with his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“You don’t get to kiss me just to win an argument.”

🧠 Dr. Elaine Marrow

She’s cutting you to pieces with that cold voice , her words sharp. You can feel the weight of her gaze.

So you interrupt her the only way you can, mouth to mouth, silencing her with heat. She freezes, her eyes widening in surprise, and then she kisses you back slowly, like she’s analyzing every twitch, every sound you make. When she pulls back, her lipstick’s smudged, and her eyes burn with something very unprofessional.

“So that’s how you argue.” Her voice is a low, knowing murmur, with amusement. “Interesting.”

She steps close, her breath warm at your ear, a promise and a threat all at once.

“Next time, don’t wait until I’m finished speaking.” She whispers, her lips brushing your skin.

🕯️ Sister Mercy

You call her cruel. She smiles like you’ve complimented her, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Her voice is too calm, too knowing.

You snap. The tension between you is a coiled spring, ready to break, and you grab her by the chin, you kiss her hard enough to bruise. Your lips are firm, your touch possessive.

She gasps, and then laughs softly, low in her throat. Her hands slide to your waist, pulling you flush against her.

“Oh, lamb… you don’t even know what you’ve invited.” Her voice is a low, knowing murmur, a mix of amusement and something darker, more intense. “But I do. And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

👁️ The Second (HIM)

He’s talking again. Calm, smug, like He knows how this ends. Like He’s already won. So you kiss Him. Not because you love Him. Because you want to hurt Him. To silence that voice.

He lets you. His eyes widen in surprise, and then He kisses you back like He’s branding you.

“Is that all it takes to break you?” His voice is a low, dangerous growl. “A kiss? How very… human.”

[vanillesuiker]

As a chemistry student, the fact that potions class (one of the closest thing to chemistry/general lab work in the wizarding world) takes place in the dungeons pisses me off so badly.

Like what do you MEAN they're heating stuff up in a poorly ventilated BASEMENT? That's not... safe? If your friend inhales a dangerous substance, how are you going to get them to fresh air as soon as possible when you are literally underground?

There's also no fume hoods (I really hope this is the correct translation for this, because I dont think acid cabinet is the right one lmfao). Literally look at any laboratory and there's a 95% chance you'll find atleast one fume hood there. We constantly see all sorts of fumes coming from the cauldrons, that can't be safe??

Also why did Percy Weasley have to write a report on standardised cauldrons bottoms?? And everyone was like "oh haha there goes Percy and his useless little report" NO??? That's like... so dangerous and he's right!! It's been said here before but he was right!!! But why did he have to write that. Why was that necessary? Why wasn't it the standard already??

In conclusion, idk how the fuck wizards have a longer lifespan than muggles because they seem to do everything in their power to make it shorter.

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[beargregor]

wait i'm curious, what makes you say that gregor doesn't like everyone else (if i read that post right)? just curious since i've never seen anyone else say that

i don't necessarily think gregor dislikes everyone else at lcb but i do think that gregor is an incredibly petty person that isn't nearly as close to the rest of the sinners and even outright dislikes some of them cough cough rodya cough cough which a lot of people just Refuse to see because he's as much of a doormat as he is. there's several examples i could get into to try and prove my point however i'll just focus on what i personally think to be the biggest ones.

additionally, this is going to be kind of long, so i'm adding a read more. read more! read it. sorry for being so wordy. i have several diseases.

Pt1. gregor is the type to try and get along at least decently with everyone, especially if he gets a good first impression from them.

this is less a point in favor of gregor's distance w/ the rest of the sinners and more just a contributing factor to it. once again there's several examples i could point to here but i think the most in your face one happened in canto I with yuri, as several people have pointed out. even before gregor comes clean about growing attached to her as quickly as he did because she reminds him of his sister, we get this interaction.

i'll go ahead and make the disclaimer now that i don't necessarily think gregor is the most reliable of narrators, especially when it comes to his feelings and interactions with most people, but from the way he acts when the topic of yuri comes up (and the way we still see him act even all the way up to c7, nearly a whole year after yuri's death) i don't see reason to question his sentiment here. gregor immediately got that aya and yuri were close, potentially even taking note of their traded belts, and went out of his way to get something nice for yuri despite hardly knowing her.

i feel like a lot of people have forgotten as much, especially since it's been so long since c1, but gregor actually spent a good bit of season 1 doing the exact same thing with the other sinners! gregor reads a connection between him and ishmael pretty quickly despite getting off to a rocky start

mostly because gregor can tell that ishmael is pretty sardonic in a very similar way to him. there's been multiple instances where ishmael and gregor have essentially expressed the same sentiment at different moments, most notably gregor's little argument after ishmael got shot with a decay ampule in c4

and ishmael's response to pilot talking about self-sacrifice in c5

i could go ahead and pull up more examples, but in general pm has gone out of their way to show us that gregor and ishmael are pretty similar, so it makes sense for gregor to assume that they're friends, right?

this will be pushpin 1. keep note of this for Later.

ishmael's only the first sinner we see gregor trying to do this with in s1, we also see him try it out with heathcliff, sinclair, and ryoushuu

he's tried to get along with charon, being one of very few sinners that we've seen actually try to establish a connection with her at all

even rodya, despite my insistence that gregor doesn't like her nearly as much as the fandom thinks he does

all of these seem pretty fine and dandy, right? sure it frequently leans towards self-degradation, micromanaging, and commiseration, but gregor can at least be pretty chummy with most of the sinners, can't he?

Pt2. hell's chicken was more than just comic relief guys please

i'm fully aware that this is quite the hot take, but i think hell's chicken deserves a lot more credit for character writing than the fandom gives it. hell's chicken gave us foreshadowing for several events, such as the donqui bloodfiend reveal

heathcliff's distortion in c6 (as well as hong lu's highly speculated distortion at some point in the future)

and ryoushuu and sinclair's continued connection by making him the odd one out on her team

which, hey! that implies something about gregor's odd one out, don quixote, too, doesn't it? yes. yes it does. that's pushpin 2. keep note of that for later.

speaking of pushpins, hey! that's pushpin 1!

splitting into teams is one of the major events in hell's chicken, and most of the sinner's choices are either motivated by very little, backhanded, or motivated primarily by not wanting to be on the opposite leader's side. i didn't include all of the picks, just because i feel like including most of them already gets this across, but i think gregor took one major thing from this: most of the sinners, when push comes to shove, will only side with gregor when they refuse to or can't take his opponent's side.

now, don't get me wrong, i'm fully aware that this is primarily intended to be comedic relief, but when gregor is being described as having his trust broken by ishmael or nearly crying because no one on his team properly sided with him for him, i feel like it's pretty fair to read into this.

something that i think is pretty important to remember in conjunction with this is that we know that gregor is the type to hold a grudge, both from his general attitude towards the G corp soldiers in c1 as well as his continued distaste for vergilius

even beyond the splitting into teams of hell's chicken, the sinners have given gregor plenty of reasons to feel bitter. i feel like this is something people have noticed but haven't really put a finger on, but it's kind of wild just how often the rest of the sinners make gregor the butt of the joke

and sure, we could argue that a fair few of these aren't really made with any ill intent. quite a bit of it could have been meant as harmless teasing, but with gregor being more sensitive than most, it coming from nearly all sides, and as often as it does? yeah, i think he's prone to taking it a bit personally.

Pt3. yes i do still think gregor was the third most important character in canto VII you guys gotta hear me out okay

of course, all of this leads up to the bit of the story i highlighted, doesn't it? c7? i totally get why people haven't really picked up on all the gregor things i did in it, seeing as they were mostly not *directly* said about him or by him.

personally, i think that gregor's distaste for talking about himself on any serious level and thus leading to him getting sort of "sidelined" narratively (which i take issue with that claim, but still. it's effective for getting what i mean across atm) is supposed to lead players to take a deeper look at the times gregor gets held up to other characters and compare and contrast what's being said about them by the matchup. as i showed earlier with his immediate latching onto ishmael, i think this is something gregor himself is at least partially aware of too.

so, that begs the question, who was gregor compared to in canto VII that makes me think it's one of the most critical pieces in understanding his character?

really, i'd like to avoid getting too lost in the analysis of this canto specifically, since i'd like to do a proper post about this later, but i figure i can bury the lede a little before doing it properly.

c7 features several characters being made to perform in sansón's play, acting out the relevant backstory for this segment of the plot. a lot of these characters have rather direct, degrading reasons for playing the roles they do.

outis, a character with an inflated ego who wants her journey to have a purpose, is made to play an aimlessly wandering villager with a single line.

hong lu and ryoushuu, two characters for whom families and the expectations placed upon them are likely going to play a major role, are made to play bloodfiends.

rodya, a character who resents her lot in life and is constantly shown to be eager to leave her destitution behind her and become someone special, is made to play a helpless villager that's too poor to even offer any money to the hero that saves her.

heathcliff, a character that has spent most of his life getting dehumanized by comparing him to beastly animals, is made to play a literal bear whose sole purpose in the plot is to get beat up and then quickly left by the wayside.

sinclair, a character that has two opposed parties essentially treating him as a macguffin to procure for their side, is made to play the character who was arguably the catalyst for this entire canto, not to mention playing a decently major role in ruina.

our star don quixote is made to play her father, the first kindred, but there's someone by their side the entire time, isn't there? don quixote's dear, steadfastly loyal companion. a character which don quixote has tasked themself with getting to come out of their shell?

hello again, pushpin 2.

gregor has been made to play our unreachable star, sancho. someone had to, of course. you can't really tell a story without it's main character, now can you?

now, i should once again give a disclaimer. i am not trying to say that i think adapting what happens to donqui/sancho in c7 to gregor is the road pm is going to take here, not only would that toe a bit past the line of foreshadowing, but it'd also just amount to rehashing that plotline again, which i don't think would make for a particularly exciting story.

what i DO think is that we can take a lot of the things that are said to either directly be the case for sancho and use them to inform how we see gregor.

and god, does playing sancho have some fucking implications for our favorite ossan archetype.

starting off, the earliest moment we get to see of sancho is quite literally her just waiting for death to take her in a pile of ashes.

which, i should remind everyone, is actually pretty damn close to what happens to gregor's literary counterpart at the end of the metamorphosis. gregor samsa experiences one final breaking point that pushes him over the edge and makes him decide to just wait for starvation to take him.

gregor and sancho both consider themselves to no longer be human, something which sancho goes out of her way to highlight repeatedly throughout the canto and gregor is quick to get defensive on her behalf for when outis starts really tearing into her

sancho spends quite a lot of this story denying herself the joys of community and friendship, despite knowing that, even with the rest of the sinners frequently making jokes at her expense and outright insulting her, they were things that she desperately craved.

and, while this is getting into my "outis is a red herring meant to distract us from gregor's eventual betrayal" theorizing, i also think it's worth noting for this discussion that sancho's fellow kindreds, her family, all seem to be under the impression that she dislikes them and ultimately her departure was an act of betrayal

and that, despite gregor being one of LCB's resident mood makers and attempted conflict de-escalators, one of the sinners that's most prone to making appeals to the bonds they've all forged together, only him and faust remained silent during everyone's speech

so yeah, i think there's quite a lot of little details and hints building up to the reveal that gregor's not quite as fond of everyone as he presents himself to be. i do think a lot of this ultimately comes down to gregor getting in the way of his own happiness, similarly to donqui, particularly because he's been frequently portrayed as something of a self fulfilling prophecy, especially by giving him as many christ allegories as they have by way of priest and garden of thorns. gregor is convinced that the rest of the sinners don't like him because he's not convinced anyone could like him, so he convinces himself that he hates them because why should he care if someone that he hates hates him too?

a lot of this ultimately ties back to my personal interpretation of what happens in the metamorphosis as well as my own theories regarding all the times gregor has made weird callbacks and references to lobcorp and ruina, but yeah. i think about this guy and his deeper characterization a fairly normal amount, i think.

to end this off i'll highlight one of my favorite little "gregor is fucking seething and trying so hard to keep it cool" moments, in the credits CG for c7 we see rodya teasing him by drawing a little horse on his window and actively pointing and laughing at it, which gregor really doesn't seem all too pleased about.

i personally think this ties into the other cruel part of sansón forcing gregor to play rocinante, which is the more literal "he's actually just straight up playing rocinante" side of things. gregor was quite literally made to play something less than human, less than even animal really, as he was reduced to nothing more than the shoes don quixote wore as she got to play the leading role. sansón directly makes jokes about gregor being nothing more than shoes in the play twice, which adds to this reading, i think.

this, imo, really plays into the adaptation of the metamorphosis! i've seen a lot of readings for the book that posit that, despite being the protagonist, gregor samsa can't really be considered the main character due to nearly everything he experiences in it being used to further his family's character development at his expense, which i think fits nicely with limbus gregor seemingly having the most said about him through indirect means by holding him up to other characters. also it's rodya carelessly making fun of His Big Major Insecurities™ again like she did in c1 which i always find fun. rodya i love you but god you're the worst.

[transmasculinizing]

ik people dont see the appeal of letting bruce b anything but white bc "oh hes the product of rich white privilege" or whatever but listen. listen. the way he talks to his kids is so brown parent with undiagnosed autism level communication skills to me

[gretagator]

Okay did anyone else notice that there's a little instrumental arrangement of The Winner Takes It All playing in the background of that scene from Better Call Saul 04x06. I have been thinking about this constantly for like 3 years and I've never seen anybody talk about it I need to get this out of my system...

That + the exit sign being there throughout pretty much the entire scene just hanging there above Jimmy. Chuck is practically omnipresent in that scene without even being there. Absolute cinema (also Jimmy's seemingly more emotional reaction to Mrs. Strauss' death is probably supposed to mirror all the repressed and unspoken grief he feels for Chuck that's just lingering deep down. So much to say about this scene. The horrors)

[looney-mooney-studio]

The secret that nobody knows about the Pheonix Flynn AU is that it’s actually meant to be canon compliant with Act Your Age. The AU isn’t an alternative way for Phineas to grow up, but a way for the character to (hopefully) continue growing afterwards (and a way to explore how these feelings might have been building up over time.)

The shell of her egg was made of solid steel, and she kept welding the cracks shut. She broke free from it one day, but it still took a long time for her to feel comfortable enough to start chipping away at it instead of trying to keep it sealed.

[bonesashesglass]

God, I’m just so mad and upset and I need to rant for a minute:

I live in Wisconsin, where the last several years winters here have been scarily mild. It’s not uncommon for us to have a mild winter every few years or so, but we’ve been having milder and milder winters for the past several years in a row. Winters here are supposed to be long and snowy. It’s supposed to start snowing in November, sometimes October, and the snow doesn’t melt all the way till April, sometimes early May.

Last year, I felt like we barely even had a winter. There was snow on the ground for maybe two months total, it kept melting and then coming back, which isn’t supposed to happen. The snow will maybe melt after the first couple times, but once you get to December, it’s supposed to stay on the ground until Spring.

Same thing is happening this year. It’ll snow for like two days, stick for maybe one day, and melt. It’ll stay that way for a couple of weeks. It’s January now. The fact that there’s no snow on the ground, in fucking Wisconsin, is alarming. The fact that this has been happening several years in a row now is alarming. I’m seeing it happen right in front of me. We’re all seeing the effects of climate change now, and we’re seeing how it’s directly destroying and harming the planet. We can see it with our own eyes.

I’m thinking about the fires in LA right now. I saw someone talk about how they were alarmed they were getting these kinds of winds in January. (I’m not familiar with LA climate but this person talked about how abnormal it is).

Everything the scientists have been saying about climate change is coming true. It’s happening right in front of us, for the whole world to see. And still, the people responsible, the right-wing politicians and businesspeople that profit off of this just deny deny deny. How can you deny what’s happening right in front of everyone? They are destroying our planet, and they still think they can deny it happening. It just makes me so angry. That a handful of people have the power to destroy our planet and refuse to even acknowledge it. They act like the words “climate change” is liberal propaganda. As if it’s not something we can see happening right before our eyes. They pretend it’s political, they pretend it’s a conspiracy, because they have no other way to justify being against protecting the planet.

One thing that angers me most is that the only thing people seem to do about this is complain on social media. (I know, that’s exactly what I’m doing, but hear me out). LA is burning to the ground because of climate change, and what’s anybody going to do about it? Make a post on Twitter? Maybe write an article about it?

That doesn’t change anything. We need change. We need direct action. It’s only going to get worse if we keep letting companies and governments continue as they are. They cannot continue as they are.

If you haven’t heard of the book How to Blow Up a Pipeline, go look it up. The author talks about a lot of the stuff I want to get at here, but he puts it a lot better.

My hope is that these LA fires will start a movement for stopping climate change. Not just a general shift of opinion like we’ve seen the past few years, but a real movement where people show up in person to do something. We exist in a time where Luigi Mangione is seen as a hero for his actions, I hope people will get inspired to take more direct action in regards to climate change. (That doesn’t mean shooting more people, I’m not advocating for murder, but we need to start taking action beyond just complaining on social media).

I’m going to start researching resources to help myself and others to get more involved with preventing climate change. I hope one day, we’ll have an actual winter in Wisconsin again. To everyone in LA, please please stay safe❤️

[octosan]

I've been wanting to find a way to articulate more of my thoughts about what Veilguard ultimately did with Solas and why it feels like they did and did not take him out of character to me, because said thoughts are a mess.

And fair warning that this is going to be critical of Veilguard (and Inquisition a little bit) because essentially I feel like what they did is soft-retconned key parts of the narrative to make Solas both more sympathetic and less sympathetic in ways that are (imo) a disservice to the character.

Let me explain,

Part 0: This is the page I am on

First off let me open by saying that I always thought of Solas as someone who, in regards to his main plans, knew exactly what he was doing. I think it makes the most sense that someone who has been waging a war against vastly more powerful opponents for literal millennia be intelligent, decisive, manipulative, and unwilling to leave things to chance. I think it makes the most sense for such a person to rarely be wrong in evaluating and executing his intended plans, because against someone with literal godlike power being wrong would presumably mean being dead.

I also think it makes the most sense that such a person, who was continually given extremely difficult choices during his years of leadership, to have gained a level of ruthlessness that few other characters in the setting can claim. I think it makes sense that such a character could become horrendously bigoted, as well as jaded, by their own (again, millennia of) negative life experience. I think it makes sense for such a character to become proud to a fault, convinced that they are correct in what they do, even at times when they don't want to be.

At the same time, Solas is also portrayed as being highly principled. At least, I think that was Weekes' intention with the character. You can see at multiple points in Inquisition, through banter and approval, what things he feels the most strongly about and how he does not like to compromise on them. Protecting and nurturing free will, doing your duty to your people, and never doing harm (without a good cause rlly important clause there lmao) are common points suggested with him. Slavery in all its forms is a particularly sore point with him.

I've always thought that Solas' biggest flaws interacted with his guiding principles in interesting ways. That both combined to make him into an extremely dangerous, but understandable (if not sympathetic) antagonist.

I don't vibe with takes that all of Solas' principles are a smokescreen and he's just selfish or just nursing a bruised ego. Don't get me wrong, he says some thoughtlessly cruel things in Inquisition that I can see why the most critical fans feel the ways they do about him. But imo there's a lot of stuff he says and does that is narratively meaningless if caring about people (his people first and foremost, but other people as well) is not a core part of his character. For all his flaws, I personally never got the impression that this was the intention.

Though I also don't vibe with takes that Solas, in his goals and plans to achieve them, is objectively correct either. I think a lot of it comes down to what Solas' actual plan for the veil is and why he's tearing it down in the first place.

Part 1: Solas' Plan (and Lack Thereof)

Veilguard portrays (or at least casts judgement on) a version of Solas who is going at the Veil without much of an actual plan. He is demonstrated as having made a prison to keep the Evanuris from escaping when it comes down, yes, but that's clearly a side concern. He claims he will try to minimize the damage to Thedas, and this is explained to mean that he planned to have spirits intervene to protect people from demons, which is an extremely uncertain method of limiting casualties.

The game refuses to even address what he thinks is going to happen to the elves when the Veil comes down. To go by Epler's AMA response, he seems to just be blindly assuming that all elves will become immortal again when exposed to that much magic, and the game does not suggest one way or the other if that is actually true--the motive to give elves back their immortality is only even suggested in one missable sidequest cutscene.

It's very strange to me that now, with the story finished and the franchise never planning to come back to it, we still don't get an elaboration on what Solas planned. What he was expecting to happen. Unless I missed it, the only explanations we get of what will happen when the Veil comes down, and thus the only thing we can accept as being true, is that the world will be "flooded with demons" and the result of this will be that "thousands of people" will die, and ostensibly the elves will regain their immortality (and command of magic, but iirc even that isn't stated and is just an assumption.)

I absolutely did not think that was the entirety of Solas' plan to bring back the old world. You know why I didn't think that?

Because we heard Solas' original plans in Inquisition.

Low approval dialogue, if you argue with Solas that he should be helping the elves, has this gem of a line:

PC: The man who has lived half his life in the Fade has no ideas? Solas: Not unless we collapse the Veil and bring the Fade here so I can casually reshape reality, no.

At the time, this line is treated as sarcasm or an intentionally absurd suggestion he made because he's irritated with you. But in Trespasser, once you learn the truth about who he is, there is another line of dialogue that suggests that this was actually what Solas intended initially.

PC: What would have happened if Corypheus had died and you’d recovered the orb? Solas: I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time… the world of the elves.

Isn't this wild?

His plan was actually even worse than Veilguard suggested it to be. It's not that he's okay with some collateral damage to (somehow) restore the elves. He was okay with the entirety of Thedas as being collateral damage. To me it doesn't even sound like the demons themselves would have been the problem, moreso the primordial energy that would spill back in.

And we'll get into what else Trespasser suggested about his plan in Part 2 but the point is that the Veil coming down is portrayed as only being step 1, and step 2 is something that Solas has to guide himself. Even the ending of Veilguard suggests this a little bit? I don't know if intentionally, though. Solas, in the ending where you attack him, has a throwaway line about the "enchantments" needing a "delicate touch" as he goes to finish his ritual, which strikes me as an odd thing to say when the Veil was already falling down and that was the only part of his plan that the game dwelled on. It only makes sense in light of the Trespasser conversation, but I feel like the rest of the game ignores parts of the Trespasser conversation, so I don't know what to think.

Veilguard just isn't interested in exploring what this guidance on Solas' part looks like or what it would actually do to the world. It's content to be vague about it. I am not. I did not want it to stay vague at this last stage of the story.

What enchantments? What are the limits to this reality reshaping he mentioned in Inquisition? How did he intend to restore the Old World? How, specifically, did he think this would be helping the elves? Is there a way that the Veil can come down and not kill everyone in Thedas?

The intelligence of Solas' plan, and therefore his character, depends on the answers to these questions and I never got them! The game won't reward me for making assumptions on them either because the overriding narrative here is "the Veil can't come down, no matter what" so there's no reason to examine what he wants to do with it.

I also think it's weird that they changed it to a comparatively flimsier "thousands of people will die" anyway. I've seen multiple players point out that likely way more people died in the Double Blight that came from disrupting Solas' ritual than the amount of people the characters say would have died if we hadn't. Players who suggest that the resultant disruption to Thedas was so great and the Veil coming down so undersold as a threat that they actually blame Rook not helping Solas with his ritual in the beginning. Which is obviously not the narrative the devs wanted here. If they'd made it clear that Solas planned to destroy all/most of modern Thedas (even if reluctantly) then we wouldn't have this dissonance with players so much, I think.

But in regards to "getting him his goals", I think the intelligence of the plan also relies on figuring out what those goals even are. Veilguard was not terribly interested in those either.

Part 2: Solas' Motivations (and Lack Thereof)

Much like Veilguard evades telling the player what specifically Solas was planning to do with the Veil coming down, it also doesn't really touch on his motivations?

Harding suggests at the opening that he wants to bring back the old world because it is "beautiful". Solas himself claims he has to take down the Veil purely because it is "unnatural", a neutral fact that doesn't address anything, and because it is a "wound" on the world, a negative phrase which is nonetheless not defined. What does it mean that it's a wound? What is happening to Thedas because the Veil is in place? What are the ramifications of leaving it up? I saw little explanation of that in this game, despite previous entries leaving a lot of interesting details to draw on.

We know from the introduction that Solas bringing the Veil up made the elves mortal and destroyed their world, and one of the mural cutscenes suggests that taking it down might give elves their immortality back. So that's another one.

But his main motivation in Veilguard is presented to be simply the fact that Solas regrets having put it up in the first place. In the ending of the game, when he is trying to explain his reasons to (potentially) the literal love of his life who is begging him to stop what he's doing, the reason Solas gives is that if he doesn't take down the Veil then Mythal will have died for nothing. It's the Sunken Cost Fallacy. Yes, he also says that he will "destroy the world [Mythal] loved" but he doesn't elaborate on what this means, just like the "wound" comment, even when it would have been extremely relevant and helpful to his cause to lay his cards on the table here and be honest about what he wants if there is more to it.

So players who have never played prior games are forced to conclude that Solas has no good reason to take down the Veil.

Which might work well enough for Veilguard's narrative of Solas, but it certainly makes his "don't you think if I had another way I would have done it?" to Varric and his "I would treasure the chance to be proven wrong" to a friendly Inquisitor meaningless phrases in retrospect. I personally don't find it more compelling when a heretofore intelligent and principled character breaks their principles for no good reason. I prefer a principled antagonist who breaks their principles for an understandable reason, a reason that the protagonists will have to put in real work to challenge if their goal is to redeem said antagonist.

And I think prior to Veilguard, Solas' motivations were ones that were worth challenging.

Part 2A: Solas' People (and Lack Thereof)

For example, he wants to bring down the Veil to help spirits. There is dialogue between him and the Inquisitor early on that in the days of Elvhenan, spirits were everywhere in the waking world because the waking world was filled with magic. Cole in Trespasser can suggest this too, as a spirit Cole is ecstatic to realize that he "belongs" in the mortal world as much as he does the Fade once they learn that the two were once the same thing. There is an implication that spirits who wish to visit the mortal world become demons because they can't do so without possessing something (unless they are extremely powerful.) Similarly, in Inquisition many spirits were forcibly pulled into the mortal world and twisted into demons in places where the Veil was torn, because they couldn't handle the existential crisis that is a world without magic. The most spirits who show up in Thedas in this setting, do so in places where the Veil is thin, and the Veil is only ever thin in places of great suffering, meaning those spirits reflect that suffering themselves.

Not only does Veilguard never examine this concept as one of Solas' motivations, but they seem to have tried very hard to erase the validity of it from previous games. You would not know, playing Veilguard, that most spirits cannot enter the mortal world without a physical vessel, or that the Veil has been detrimental for spirits. Spirits are all over the Crossroads, and the implication is that they could always go there. You encounter plenty of them in Rivain, Nevarra, and Tevinter, and they are happy, healthy, free, uncontained to a vessel, and even largely capable of retaining their selves under pressure. This is entirely at odds with previous depictions of Thedas and its relationship with spirits. Yes, Nevarra and Rivain have more welcoming cultures and so it makes a little more sense (though not terribly so imo) for you to see more of them around and treated better, but it's not like anyone acknowledges this as outside the norm for the rest of Thedas. Inquisition in particular made a point about how much people hate and distrust them because they're such an unknown to mortals. In Tevinter, they are technically as much victims of magister slavery as elves, at least so Dorian and Solas' banter suggests.

Solas wanting to make the world better for spirits is a particularly important goal for him in retrospect because he was once a spirit, so it's a low blow to his character that it's never acknowledged in this game about stopping him.

But anyway, now we have the whole deal with the elves. This is where I see a lot of the discussion divide. I've seen people argue that Solas should have been allowed to enact his plan because it would end the very real oppression and cultural genocide that elves are facing, and I've seen people say that his plan would not have actually helped the elves at all and so it was a bad plan. I'm not sure how I feel about these takes.

Mostly because I personally did not think that Solas' plan, at least initially, was to end the oppression of elves. I think that if he'd been allowed to carry his plan out, the oppression of elves would end, but only because the entirety of Thedas' oppressive power structures would cease to exist along with its society. I did not think his true goal was to give modern elves their immortality back either, though I guess I can say I judged him wrong on that front in Veilguard. I thought, at best, that helping modern elves became a secondary goal for him later down the line, once he realized modern Thedosians are people--and for a low approval Solas may he rest in retconned peace it was a benefit to help him recruit. In The Dread Wolf Take You, for example, he does have a comment to Charter that the "elves that remain" like her might think his world is a better place when he's done. This could have been a lie to let her think better of his goal, or it could have been the truth and his intention was to somehow spare at least some of the elves what is coming.

The reason I believe that it is only secondary, however, is because Solas for most of Inquisition does not consider modern elves to be his people. He makes it clear he does not identify with the Dalish early on, but even when it comes to non-Dalish elves, which he ostensibly is, he has this line towards the Inquisitor after the Wicked Hearts quest:

PC: I hope Briala uses her position to help your people. Solas: How would helping Briala help… Oh, you mean elves! Solas: I’m sorry, I was confused. I do not consider myself to have much in common with the elves.

PC: Nor should you. You’re not defined by the shape of your ears. They’re not your people. Solas: No, they are not.

This whole exchange can be kind of dfgkdfkgksd ehhh but I think the salient point is that Solas does not identify with modern elves and slipped up when he made this clear.

And yet, he does have people, he isn't just a solitary misanthrope like he tries to shake that off with. He clearly does have people and moreover it is for them that he is doing what he's doing.

Trespasser has this line, for example:

PC: You’d murder countless people? Solas: Wouldn’t you, to save your own?

Consider also that there is an aspect to his motivations that he deliberately refused to tell the Inquisitor at the end of Trespasser.

PC: Why does this world have to die for the elves to return? Solas: A good question, but not one I will answer. Solas (high approval): You have always shown a thoughtfulness I respected. It would be too easy to tell you too much. Solas (low approval): You will survive this day, Inquisitor, and though I owed you an explanation, I will not give you tools to use against me.

I find this exchange so very interesting. There is a reason why the restoration of his world has to result in the end of ours, but he won't tell us because he believes it would give us the tools to stop him. Even on low approval he is comfortable with us knowing that he intends to destroy the world, but not the reason why he has to.

As far as I can tell Veilguard didn't do anything interesting with this. But originally I thought it had to do specifically with his people, the ancient immortal elves, and what he would do to get them back. To bring it back to a previous point, I did not think that it was just in giving the modern day elves their immortality back because I can't see how telling the Inquisitor this would give them the tools to use against him, especially if you yourself are an elf.

I know I saw some people speculate that Solas was trying to bring them back with time travel, as a reference to the Hushed Whispers quest, but even though I could see the Dragon Age devs doing that because the time travel stuff was silly in the first place and yet they decided it was a good plot point anyway I didn't think that was it either? It didn't feel thematically punchy enough.

And as a warning the next section will be getting into more speculative territory, but

Part 2B: The Ancient Elvhen (and Lack Thereof)

So, I don't think it's a huge secret that Inquisition presented the idea that the immortal elves of Arlathan never entirely went away.

We see this in the fact that there are immortal elves, obviously. Solas, Felassan, Abelas, and the rest of the sentinels at the Temple of Mythal are all elves who lived in the days of Arlathan, and yet are still alive thousands of years later, walking about in modern day Thedas. Furthermore, Solas in particular hints to Abelas that there are even more immortal elves than him. Consider the fact that if you're a Lavellan in the temple, Abelas distinctly denies that you number among his people, and in fact if I'm remembering rightly, calls you a shemlen regardless of your race.

And yet when speaking with Solas, he has this to say:

Solas: There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger. Abelas: Elvhen such as you? Solas: Yes. Such as I.

Solas who is, of course, an immortal elf. It's even possible that he is one Abelas knows personally, given the importance Solas once had to Mythal. My Lavellan listening to that like wtf :(

Consider also the banter that Solas can have with Cole, if you romanced him and got to the breakup scene after this quest:

Cole: He hurts, an old pain from before, when everything sang the same. Cole: You're real, and it means everyone could be real. It changes everything, but it can't. Cole: They sleep, masked in a mirror, hiding, hurting, and to wake them... (Gasps.) Where did it go? Solas: I apologize, Cole. That is not a pain you can heal.

This banter is never examined in Veilguard! Who is hiding? Who is hurting? The fact that "waking" them is on the table suggests to me that it is sleeping elves, perhaps like the sentinels who only woke to defend Mythal's temple and slept the rest of the time. In the context of Cole trying to explain to Lavellan why Solas broke up with her (and more important, Solas wanting to make sure she does not know this information,) I thought this line referred specifically to Solas' true people, the reason he was doing all of this.

The idea that there are other ancient elves out there, sleeping somewhere, suffering for some reason, as they wait for the Dread Wolf to bring the Veil down and wake them. The "masked in a mirror" part felt especially interesting to me because there's a part in the Masked Empire novel where Briala and Felassan (among other people) come across a couple elves that were allegedly sleeping in Uthenara, in a location they were only able to get to by traveling the Crossroads, which are located through eluvians. In that scene, Felassan gets very upset to see that these particular elves have apparently been killed in their sleep.

It makes me wonder if this is why Solas had to hide this possibility from the Inquisitor at all costs, especially from a low-approval Inquisitor. His motivations for doing all of this are the countless elves, his version of elves, who are scattered all over and currently helpless as they sleep. I can't help but imagine that a particularly desperate modern Thedosian might consider if removing the Dread Wolf's reason to bring down the Veil might not be the only way of stopping him from doing it.

Veilguard doesn't follow up on any of these plot threads. In fact, someone who has never read the novel might even come away from the game with the impression that Solas and the Evanuris are the only immortal elves that survived to Modern Thedas, as even Felassan's role in The Masked Empire is obscured from the player.

It's a shame because if they'd kept this plot point relevant it would have been a major challenge to overcome in persuading Solas not to bring down the Veil. Presuming he is talking about the ancient elves, Cole's dialogue suggests to me that it is the process of waking them, or some element of it, which necessitates that Solas destroy the rest of Thedas.

This brings up an important question, potentially even a difficult choice. Which society do you think is worth saving? Would you be willing to let an entire people sleep and suffer for eternity just to preserve your way of life? Could you convince Solas to allow that? Solas, who sees Thedas as so corrupt and terrible to elves and spirits, who fought so hard to give his fellow elves a more ideal world which never came to fruition?

Also yes the sleeping and suffering to preserve your way of life thing IS ironic because that is exactly what he did to the titans but the game was so uninterested in exploring that too.

And like, to be clear, I never thought that Dragon Age would actually have the player make that kind of terrible choice. Even in Origins you were sometimes given the chance to take a third option that benefited everyone if you did a bit of digging. And both Inquisition and the opening of this game teased the idea of you convincing Solas there was another way. I guess what that third option actually looked like would have depended on more specifics. Mainly, why waking them requires that modern Thedas be destroyed.

Ehh I wonder if any of this was even on the table when Trespasser was written. Maybe I read it all wrong.

Edit: crying and screaming because I apparently DID NOT read it wrong and Veilguard did intentionally retcon that plot point.

-----------

All in all, I personally did not really have a problem with what Solas was willing to do in this game. But when it came to the "why", I found myself really struggling with it after thinking about it for a while.

At the very least, I feel as though what I speculated above would have made Solas' motivations more understandable, even if, again, it did not ultimately make them sympathetic. Going just by what is shown in the game, Solas' actual motivations in Veilguard are not nearly as understandable to me, especially because not even a single elf or spirit is shown as wanting him to do it dfkgksdfk.

And clearly that is what they wanted for this narrative, but I can't believe it makes him more compelling as an antagonist in the franchise as a whole. I like him as a classic trolley problem dude.

Also he literally ignored Mythal when she told him not to do it in the regret mural and yet it's Mythal telling him he doesn't have to do it later that finally makes him stop? I guess Flemythal didn't realize the code word was "I release you from my service" or smth

Also,

Idk man. Thinking about it and I'm still so sad the ancient elves were a dropped plot point. I guess it's possible, with all the racism already shoved offscreen in this game, that onscreen racial tension between even these two different factions of elves was too tall an order.

[ganondoodle]

got this comment on my answer to the anon asking me why i hate totk:

" @comentter

I feel all of this so much, especially the not just lack of connective tissue, but the active dismissal of any connection to BotW, let alone any past Zelda games. That Ganondorf was just a name nothing more... I've only recently been able to enjoy BotW stuff again. I have a question though. Can you elaborate about doubling down on the flaws of BotW (or point me to a post where you talked about this?) I've seen a lot of criticism of the game, but never this specifically"

(seperate post bc i didnt want to add to an already longer post and i will keep it "short" bc i HAVE talked about it before but idk how the hell to find it either lmao)

what i broadly called 'flaws' were pretty much all things that were critized about botw and/or were lacking in general that i do not believe totk fixed at all, they either doubled down on it, made it just as bad, or pretended to fix it but didnt (and often made it even worse)

im just gonna give some of the biggest examples bc i want to keep it shorter and maybe you get the idea:

the dungeons (titans) in botw were too samey and the whole terminals thing werent the best puzzles, plus the very same kind of boss each time; on the plus side the little gimick of each titan was neat, their introduction great, they looked intimidating, its generally just .. very cool bc its a giant MECH and also it made sense in the story even if there were missed opportunities with the bosses -like making them be the possesed remains of the champions for exampls- BUT they still have the benefit of you knowing they are what killed your friends, theres a personal connection here- and you cannot climb them bc all shiekah stuff is not climable (so restricting you which is GOOD), and they got the bonus of all shiekah thigns as in they saw the future and the things are meant to be doable for you and since its been a hundred years theres people around that still know your friends of the past, you get your dead friends ability at teh end, a part of their spirit really

-totks dungeons .... well, they LOOK different from each other, but its just the surface really, each of them is 5 switches (that feel very artificially inserted since its supposedly race specific dungeons but those things are clearly sonau (zonai)) and none of them (or only the thunder ones? barely?) are connected to each other at all, so its terminals again, BUT they are also static (in contrast to botws moving titans), the already easy puzzles can be skipped easily (via totks horrible building shit that invalidates so much of the world it was inserted into bc it simply wasnt made for this), you can also climb walls so even more ways to cheat (in a boring way, having to do glitches to cheat is cooler), they also lack a personal connection, all these dungeons, especially the ones in the sky, appeared out of thin air really, and while thy try to make your friends and their villages in distress the tension it falls very flat- and it detracts further that they are in almost the exact same LOCATION AS IN BOTW (more repetition), you have NO connection to the nameless ancient sages or reason to care about them and the whole thing about your friends awakening as sages feels very ... well, bad, their stone ability makes little sense and it also seems to override what made the champions, your old friends, significant (who cares about champions? sages are way older and more important)- i will give them credit for the bosses beign different but ... its got less weight too, these monsters are just mosnters summoned there, they didnt kill the sages they are just there to supposedly stop you from gettign the stone which, i dont think is ever stated as the actual goal by anyone so it doesnt even make sense!! the only reason you go there is BECAUSE there are monsters threating the villages now! (also the sonau didnt have the future thing and also .. when were those things built? who cares, why are the fish in the sky WHY DO THE WATERWORKS IF- etc)

so overall, looks fixed on the surface, but its actually worse

weapons breaking! while i didnt mind alot of people did but it was essential to botws exploration drive, there were lots of cool weapons whose appearances changed fit to how far you were in the game (meanign they went from weak to stronger ones) and it makes sense they are all over the place with monsters using them etc

-totk then .. well the weapons still break, their base version are now all ugly rusted and very shitty for no sensical reason (its jsut to force you to fuse), you can fuse stuff to them, you HAVE to, bc id bet they are even more brittle than botw ones in their basic version, fusing uses up materials (which you also need for armor upgrades), often looks stupid and is a hassle to do espeically in mid fight, monsters and people also just do it even without having fuse and ........ strap fruit to their shields or sth instead of fixing their weapons bc i guess no smiths exist ever?

so appears fixed, but isnt actually, and i would argue, made worse (this is were i would for once say a more classic crafting system was THE fix but thats for the rewrite now lmao)

shrines! in botw there were mayn of them, often rather short or underwhelming, all look the same and tehre many that were jsut a fight which is a little boring but it made sense with the shiekah having them made for you in the future (also theres a bit of personality bc each has its own monk that made that puzzle for you and giving you their bit of spirit) and they were well integrated into the world (also the monks talk to you! they are still sittign there after all!)

-in totk, well, theres EVEN MORE OF THEM, EVEN SHORTER, and with totks building shit that they barely restrict at all (weirdly though you cant climb walls here either ....hmmm inconsistencyyyy) extremely easy to cheat in a boring way that feels less like you are cleverly exploiting the game and jsut that they didnt care, all look the same AGAIN, just with a different paint job from botw, they just ... came out of nowhere, their placements are like .. the same just a little to the left, at the end its a static statue of the main guy and his fridge wife every single time, they give you .. a .. light orb? the shrines purpose is very non sensical (banish monsters? literally how and were lol, also you need a rauru arm to get in? also where were they before? and uuh .. is the puzzle the security????i dont see mosnters running around with rauru arms?? nothign changes after you do them so banish evil how what??) and they are very much just .. put there, you know they werent there before, like the world easiest mod jsut moved them a little (they .. talk? to you? prerecorded? somehow?)

so the same but worse than in botw

krogs! (koroks) in botw .. were too many, i get it, it was a joke and something you werent meant to find all of (nintendo shoudl have known better tbh) and they were sth to fill the gaps, i dont like that they are what exapnds your inventory but its more forgivable since its the firrst time here

-now totk ... just did the krogs again, with the SAME purpose (instead of bringing back pouches! easy better rewards!!!) and EVEN MORE OF THEM, the backpacking ones have literally no reason to do what they are doing (i thought they were fleeing the forest but .. they arent) and are just there for you to fuck with them, thats the whole reason

so .... made worse, just doubled down and worse

the story/memories! in botw the main story takes place more in the past than the present, many didnt like that even if i too say it worked very well for botw, they were short but well made and skillfully gave you a glimpse of the past, enough to care about the chaarcters even if only a little and as its been long but not too long there are people still talking about it all or knowing you and what happened and getting them out of order didnt have any consequences sicne they were all more about the chaarcters rather than a story with lots of different beats, they all made sense as in you had to explore and find the places where they are with very little hints given if any, you had to explore and rememebr places! engage with the world!

-so totk ..... did the memories AGAIN, doubling down on that system, but also worse bc, now the memories are THE story, a LINEAR story that doesnt work out of order since its not about the characters but what is happening ... or HAS happened, they are EVEN MORE in the past than in botw, far far more even, no one knows or cares about these characters, there is no connection and even zelda doesnt feel like botw zelda at all, you can still find them all out of order though massively spoiling and confusing anyone (even if the story itself its pretty bad), also they are marked with ENOURMOUS GIGATOMANIAC glowing glyphs on the ground, you dont even need to think or find anything you just .. look. fly up and look, you dont have to engage with anything AND these memories are very ...... idk, flat, they somehow manage to tell you too much about the past (removign the mystery and sense of time/distance) and also not enough to make you care (its all just plot, clumsy plot) and with there being pretty much no connection to the current time (like with people knowing the champions in botw still etc) its just ... might as well be a random AU

so, memories and story in the past again, even moreso too, call that a double down

theres more obviosuly (like the tutorial being the same but worse, the abilities too being done so similarly isntead of bringing back main items, the clunky ASS UI that was bad in botw but still okay bc first tiem and also meant for the wii u- totk though?? worse, they made the shitty UI WORSE, quest rewards being a fucking joke, all the GRINDING totk is so much stupid GRINDING) maybe people dont realize this, mabye calling it doubling down isnt right but to me this is all the same, but even worse, instead of correcting and taking a few steps back to how it was before and see theres value in all those older games systems they did botw again, but worse, so .. doubling down on all the things that were bad and making them worse too, even if on the surface it may look "fixed", instead of correcting their parking by carefully going backwards they were still in first gear and slamming GO to hit the wall when you where literally telling them they werent in the backwards gear

so so many thigns in totk are just, botw again but worse, more shitty shrines instead of less, more krogs isntead of less, worse rewards, more grind, the shiekah tech again but worse, malice is miasma, the same but also worse (its not even a 3d model ... ), luminous stones are sonanium (zonaite), its everythign again but worse ........ (and also invalidates so much of botw, its jsut ... infuriating bc it FEELS so mean spirited, its just all beign overridden, nothing of botw matters bc look! look all that stuff came BEFORE THEM actually, and that was way more important ..... even down to the sonau designs its overriding so much of shiekah stuff, and im not even that big of a simp for shiekah stuff but this was supposed to be a botw sequel, the game with the shiekah tech?????? anyway ..)

(yes this is as short as i could make it on the spot, already spent two hours on this so sorry but i wont go over it to edit for another one dfnjknhdfjkbdfjk)

[anxietypopcorn]

forgot to post

[shima-draws]

Me, on Bluesky: Haha this is fun! I wonder since it’s so similar to Twitter why I never liked Twitter?

Me, trying to edit a post bc I noticed a mistake and realizing I can’t edit the post: Ah. That’s why.

[einsatzzz]

practice/study ⑤: blurriest and 2nd most beautiful hibari ive ever drawn