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#I have the worst case of brainworms
royalsea-art · 1 year
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Y es que el adorno de mi peso cargarás
Por más que huyas, en mi tú te encontrarás
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storiumemporium · 5 months
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Astarion As a Father
Fem!Tav/Reader
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I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭
But without further ado, daddy Astarion:
Finding out:
When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'
He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.
And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.
Shouldn't it?
Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.
Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.
"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.
So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?
Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.
The denial is strong with this one.
And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.
It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.
The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?
(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.
He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?
He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.
It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)
And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.
And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.
How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.
But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.
Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.
And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.
Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.
You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.
Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."
Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.
You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.
However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.
When You Go Into Labor:
Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.
You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.
Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.
Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.
After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.
This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.
Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.
Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.
Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.
And then your water breaks in the dead of night.
Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.
Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.
Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.
Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.
And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.
And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.
Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.
Astarion has a daughter.
I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.
You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.
It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.
Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.
Astarion With Your Baby:
Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.
He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.
And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.
"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.
And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.
The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).
But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.
There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.
You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.
And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.
Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.
And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?
"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.
It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"
Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."
It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.
Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.
He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.
He'd cried, at that.
"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."
And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.
"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."
It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.
Astarion With Your Teen:
Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.
In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.
It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.
Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.
As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.
A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.
But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.
Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.
And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.
And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.
All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.
Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.
Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.
Small and odd, but his.
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uhlunaro · 10 months
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Request for smut week: Leon and reader spending a cold cold night in a cabin and yk warming up because there's no means of heat and they're freezing which causes them to pleasure each other multipleeee times in an attempt to not "freeze to death"
i do not care about the logistics of this we are here for the smut that is it!! also this is WAY over 1k words (2.3k actually) but this request gave me a brainworm that took over my body. 
this time we got: afab!reader, mutual pining, smut with feelings, a lil creampie thrown in there bc why not !! there’s also a happy ending
18+ only
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DAY 3.
What began as a two day excursion to find an Umbrella mountainside base turns into a below-freezing blizzard, an abandoned cabin devoid of insulation, and a blanketing cold that freezes your hands and face and lungs to numbness. The comms are down from the storm. Nobody can reach you for evac. The visibility outside proves nonexistent. Drastic times and drastic measures, you suppose.
The only relief you find from the chill is the wrought-iron tub that you fill with fire-boiled snow. You curl close together, seek comfort in skinship, brainstorm ideas to prolong survival.
The topic is breached just as the water turns cold. 
“So. What’s the plan?” He looks to you as if you possess all the answers. And you usually do.
This time, however—
“There isn’t one.”
It’s a hopeless situation. The water stayed warm all of ten minutes, your two layers of thick clothing shield nothing, and when the weather turns severe like this, it’s sure to last weeks. You stocked up on rations for the trip, always pack extra for worst-case-scenarios such as this. The snow provides water, but the wood inside the cabin is scarce, half-rotten in places. 
The immediate issue is the cold. A problem you have no solution to thus far. 
“So, what? We just give up?” He looks small, knees-to-chest as he huddles, a slight shake to his bones as he fights full-blown shivers. 
Water drains heat. You need out of this tub. 
No towels to dry off with, so you re-dress in record time while he grumbles out a comment about the cold causing a lack of blood to certain areas, and you’ve seen the man naked enough times that it’s a non-issue, but he makes you laugh and nothing else fucking matters. 
But there is still an issue. 
“Okay.” You settle in beside him before fireplace embers, hold gloved hands just above the dying warmth. “We have… very few options here.”
“Which are?”
“Well, we die, for one.”
“Not happening.”
“Then we have to keep our body heat up somehow. Ideally, through exercise. Any kind of movement that increases heart rate.”
“That seems counterproductive.”
“Then we die.”
He hums. “You weren’t kidding about our options.”
“Push-ups and jumping jacks it is, then.”
“Our lungs will freeze.”
“That is a fair possibility.”
You rack your brain for other ideas. Some kind of movement that quickens heart rate. Need something reliable. Tried and true. 
Well. Sex always leaves you sweaty, and it’s known to burn calories which means it’s technically a workout, right?
You glance over at him and he meets your eye, and you heave out a cloudy sigh. “Okay. Another idea. A lot more far-fetched.”
He sniffs, and you note the thick red blush spanning over his cheeks and nose. “Let’s hear it.”
“It’s really fucking cliché.”
“The suspense is killing me.”
You wince. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
That gives him pause—as it should. How do you even approach the subject? Yeah, I think we should try fucking each other right out of the gate. It’s weird, and you feel weird for even thinking it up. He’ll assume you’ve been waiting for the opportunity, for any little reason to get in his pants. Everyone else wants to. 
But it’s not like that. You care about him, yes, because he’s your partner. You’ve saved each others’ lives. You rely on one another. You fight and train and hurt and survive together. 
“I’m sure I’ve heard a lot worse,” he says, eyes dark beneath the shadows of midnight, shoulders wracked by shiver. Nothing but an oil lamp to light the room and his huddled form. 
“We can have sex. It gets the blood pumping, makes people sweat.”
“Okay,” he says, like it’s the easiest answer in the world, and your brain shuts off for a good long moment. 
“Wait, seriously?”
“We’ve been through a lot worse together. Remember when—“
“If you bring up the red wine story, I will let you freeze.”
Through the chatter of his teeth, he grins at you. 
And then it’s decided. Sex to ward off the chill. No big deal. Just an adaptation to circumstances, doing what partners are supposed to do. Keeping each other safe.
No big deal. 
DAY 4.
Huddled inside a thin sleeping bag, he spoons you from behind. Holds you with shivering arms, blanketed by your thick coats. Still, the insulation isn’t enough. The cold permeates and he fits his face against your neck and his nose likens to a cube of ice. 
The situation would be humiliating if the thick of his cock wasn’t so warm and slick and lovely as it fills you up. You press a balled-up shirt to your face, a filter for the frigid air that lessens the pain of breathing. Helps muffle the noises that you fail to bite back. 
You pretend that this doesn’t affect you. That you don’t enjoy the way he holds you, the weight of his arms, the warmth of his breath over your nape. He’s been your other half for years, trustworthy and safe. A relationship built upon end goals and symbiosis. 
This, though. You never could have expected this. 
You fight against the pleasure that wells and waves, that he fills you with each time he bottoms out. It rises and rises and you can’t—it’s all just—
You release the shirt pressed to your mouth and brace a hand against the floor, rise onto an elbow. Pant out low and shaky. Rock your hips to meet his own. Fuck hard back onto him.
“Goddamn.” He hisses the word under his breath, adds a roughness to his thrusts, and you clench tight around him. Can’t help it at this point, and you know you’re making a sticky mess on the both of you. 
You just try to fill up the day. Just need to be warm. That’s all this is about. All that matters. Desperate times.
Still, his response gives you permission to moan. This affects him, too, and those two simple syllables cease your embarrassment. It’s okay. It feels good—fucking amazing, if you’re being honest. It’s supposed to.
The arm he wraps around you raises higher, and the press of his chest against your back throws off your balance, leaves you half-rolled onto your stomach, the sleeping bag stretched taut from your position. 
“Not fair,” you choke out, welcome the curl of his fingers around yours despite the thickness of your gloves.
He seeks to fuck you into the cold floor, hips rough against the swell of your ass, and you arch your back to swallow him deeper, and if he moans into your ear one more time you’ll go fucking insane.
“Shut up. You love it.”
That shatters something within you. Whatever qualms you have about the situation. Whatever professionalism you’ve been latching onto. Because he’s right. It’s so fucking good, and he’s ticking all your boxes, and you wonder for a too-long moment why you never thought to do this before. 
“And if I do?”
He ignores your question. Instead, releases your hand to tug off his glove with the bite of his teeth. Slips frigid fingers over the swell of your clit, slick and hot and impossibly sensitive. He circles over the flesh, one two three four times before you’re gone. Moaning into your glove, fluttering around him, and when he whines at the sensation you think you might die anyway. 
He finishes inside you—another pre-discussed topic, agreed to on the knowledge of your birth control and the inconvenience of any other method—and the jerk of his cock, the flood of warmth feels more intimate than it should. 
Everything is warm now. Sweat beads at the curve of your lower back. He takes his time pulling out, until his cock softens enough that he’s forced to. So warm and nice and relaxed, your chest fuzzy and tender, ruined by the sticky trail of cum that leaks out of you. 
“To answer your question,” he begins, voice sandpaper rough at the edges. Swipes his thumb through the mess, spreads it over the hood of your clit and exhales a laugh when you jolt in surprise. “There’s no if. I know you too well.”
DAY 6.
You don’t talk about it—whatever that little moment was a few days ago. Flirting, maybe. Definitely something more than your usual banter, your long-lasting dynamic. You felt like… fuck, like lovers. He touched you like he meant to mark his place on your skin.
It’s not what partners do, and neither of you want to address it.
He looks unbelievably pretty beneath you: flushed deep red at the cheeks, eyes lidded and glossy, groaning deep in his throat each time the slick of your cunt swallows him down to the root. 
You like him best like this. He massages his palms down your back, over the bare stretch of your waist and hips and ass and thighs, greedy with his touch.
This isn’t normal. This isn’t how partners act. They don’t fuck each other, and they don’t share loving gazes, and they don’t confuse touch with idolatry.
There’s something else here, something more. Something devastating in its severity. 
DAY 10.
Your jackets are unzipped, shirts bunched beneath your arms. So are his. The sleeping bag traps in the heat like always, and your bare chest sticks to his own from all the sweat. 
The sex is weirder this time around. Not a bad weird, no. Freeing, fully indulgent. You’ve accepted that fucking each other feels good, and it’s become less about staying warm and more about staving off the boredom. You realized early on that curling up naked inside the sleeping bag together, using your clothes as extra insulation, worked well enough. But it’s fun, and he touches you like he wants you, and it helps you pretend that you’re somewhere else but here: low on rations, frozen down to the marrow in your bones, stranded indefinitely. But at least you have him, and that’s a confusing headspace to be in. 
“God, right there.” The tilt of his hips forces the breath from your lungs, cock sliding perfect against sensitive nerves. All squishy silk and squelching heat that brews intensity in the pit of your belly. 
“So fucking—“ he cuts himself off with a groan, and the relax of his jaw teases teeth over the flesh of your throat. You wish he would bite down. Mark you. Give you something to remember when you leave this place and have to pretend that nothing happened. Like he hasn’t been balls-deep inside you for the last week.
You aren’t sure who initiates, but he bottoms out inside you and all of a sudden you’re kissing. He heavies his weight atop you, clutches hard to your shoulder to keep you in place, fucks into you so hard you jolt against the floor. You slide a hand over his back, sweatslick and warm beneath your bare palm. Trace the welts of his spine, dig blunt nails into the skin of his shoulder blade. 
Your other hand circles quick over your clit, and he pulls back to look at you, all starshine and hunger and ferality. Furrow-browed and panting. 
Something clicks. A chest-bursting revelation, horribly inconvenient. 
This is way more than being good partners. Than fighting for survival. It’s time to accept that. 
He slows his thrusts, eyes darting over the features of your face. Asks, “What’s wrong?” and all you can do is shake your head. 
Don’t you dare. Don’t ruin this. Ignore it. Swallow it down no matter how deep the glass slices.
“I’m okay. Just had a weird thought.”
His hips still. “You need to stop?”
“No.” You answer much too quick, and his lips twitch at the edges. His eyes begin to glitter in mirthy amusement. “I’m still cold.”
You’re not, though, and he knows it. Sweat beads on your forehead, the curve of your nose. The heat is borderline uncomfortable inside the sleeping bag, but you can feel your hands again and you can use them to feel his skin and—
Fuck.
You love him.
DAY 14.
When the storm subsides and the comms continue working and they send out a bird for evac, both of you decide to keep the last two weeks secret. When you leave this cabin, you’ll remain partners. You’ll pretend that you don’t miss his touch, how nice he fills you up, the weight of his body.
You’re taken to the hospital, lose the tip of a finger, receive a round of fluids and a steroid shot. Both of you are sent home and ordered to rest.
Life goes on.
—AFTER
It takes a month before the both of you cave. An empty meeting room at HQ, with the lights off and the curtains pulled and you sat on the table. 
He says what you’re thinking. An, “I missed this,” fanned warm over the curve of your shoulder. 
The sex is tender this time. Slow and sweet and fuck, you aren’t used to this. 
“I missed you.” A confession that starts from a thought that forms into syllables that you speak before your brain catches up, and you don’t have the heart to take it back. “I’m allowed to admit that, right?”
He breathes out a laugh. Presses his lips to yours. “I can admit a lot more than that.”
“Then do it.”
“Tell me something first.”
The head of his cock slicks over your clit, leaves your thighs tensing, and the edges of your vision begin to blur. “Anything.”
“The weird thought you had. What was it?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Say it anyway.”
You won’t look away from him. Couldn’t if you tried. Not when his eyes gleam the way they do, even in the darkness, impossibly bright and beautiful. You can’t swallow glass anymore.
“I love you.”
There it is. Spoken aloud, weightless, heart-draining. You expect him to laugh, to mock you, to pull away.
He does none of those things. Slides back into you, spreads his fingers along your spine. Says, “Wow. What a coincidence,” and you don’t think you’ll ever feel the chill again.
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Picklejar Hall of Fame [Jan, Feb & March]
gonna be doing this every few months now. enjoy🎁
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Bucky Barnes
Incubus & Disney Corruption Series - @after-avenging-hours - found these so long ago and i thoroughly enjoyed them again very recently. so they deserve to be in this list💕
The Ties That Bind Us - @thevillainswhore - divorced or not, god himself will never keep me away from this man's dick🫠🫠🫠🫠
Oberyn Martell
Burning Bright - @tropes-and-tales - i read a few chapters so long ago and then lost the series somehow, but i found it again and i'm saving it here because it's so good😭💖
Frank Castle
Pretty - @chvoswxtch - the dream i had about this man lead me straight to your fic and i have ✨no regrets✨ about that💋
Miguel O'Hara
Superhuman Stamina and Hide And Seek - @astroboots - not a good idea to read this while i was ovulating🫠🫠🫠🫠
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Empty Me Out - i am a sucker for Obi-Wan losing control and you exploited that😤💐❤️
Din Djarin
Dosed - @absurdthirst - who needs ovulation when you've got a sex pollen to make you go insane for the Mandalorian?🌶️🔥🌶️🔥
Electric Heart - @hellowoolf - gnawing at my arm because of this🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵
Flowers For My Mandalorian - @thefrogdalorian - this is so cute!!! offering Din flowers?? he absolutely deserves them💐💐💐💐
Like A Moth To The Flame - @the-scandalorian - this👏🏼 fic👏🏼 has👏🏼 ruined👏🏼 me👏🏼
Beloved - @groguspicklejar - shameless self promo. what are you gonna do about it? don't look at me like that👁️👁️
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Simon wakes up in the middle of the night - @thexsilentxwordsmith - what do i- what do i gotta do? WHAT DO I GOTTA DO? WHO'S SOUL DO I HAVE TO SELL?😭
Simon being obsessed with your swollen tummy - @sunsetsimon - fluff overload🩷 that's it. that's all i have. my brain has been fried by fluff🧠💥
"Since when do you drink bourbon?" - @shotmrmiller - i need to be neutered, doused in holy water and burnt at the stake because HOT FUCKING DAMN🥵🌶️🔥
Around the clock - @clairdelunelove - Simon "lone dog that strays right into your home and stays there to guard you and fix your stuff to make himself feel like he needs to earn your time of day" Riley will never not be the most precious thing ever🌻💞
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Vouyer!Gaz - @sky-is-the-limit - from now on, mirrors are my worst enemy because i cannot walk by one without suddenly having the urge to be fucked in front of it by my favourite fictional man🪞
I let my gf manscape me - Kyle needs to be taken care of and yes, i volunteer as tribute🙋🏽‍♀️ Two Best Friends And A Hoodie - if this man finds his hoodies missing, he better blame himself because i cannot be trusted around them or him and he should take better care of them🫠🌶️🔥 (both my @tfone4one)
Watch Her - @waves-against-a-cliff - you have no idea but this fic lives rent free in my mind🥵
Vegas marriage with Gaz - @mangowafflesss (+ @ethereal-night-fairy 's delicious addition) - this gave me a sever case of brainworms🥴
Release - @captainfern - listen. what do i gotta do to suck his dick? who do i have to kill? because i will do it in the name of gaz dick love🔪🌹
Fake dating Kyle - @alwaysshallow - oh, no fake dating that leads to a forced marriage🙂💍 how absolutely terrible! what ever shall i do?🙂🙂🙂 as i'm running down the isle to marry my man
Out Of Element - @cowyolks - calling Makarov to kidnap me so that Gaz can save me because i'm crazy like that teehee👽
Stay For Something - @makoodles - if you hear muffled screaming, no you didn't. if you also hear loud squelching noises, yes you do because that's the sound of gaz rearranging my guts in an attempt to rectify a relationship that should've never fallen apart in the first place and no, i have no regrets about that🌹🌹🌹🌹
Send Me Feral, Sweet Like Honey & Into The Fire - @greatstormcat - all of these. ✨chef's kiss✨ every version of gaz can fuck me 10 ways to hell and no, i do not regret disclosing that information🔥
Show Me Out - @wiinterz - i was not prepared for how fucking cute this was and i am emotionally damaged my this fic🌸
Bloody Shame - @glossysoap - you need jailtime for this because how dare you exploit my weakness for Kyle "best friend who's secretly in love with you and would jump at the opportunity to fuck you" Garrick🥵🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 ma'am, i'm putting you under arrest for stealing my wretched heart🔒🗝️
John "Soap" MacTavish
The key to solving Johnny's bad mood - @soap-ify - is it bad that i want to purposefully put him in a bad mood so he can do this?👀
I need your discipline - @crashandlivewrites - Soap sending nudes is never accidental and i will die on that hill but dammit is it fucking entertaining either way🌶️🥴
Cbf!johnny - @shotmrmiller - when i tell you that i needed a freezing cold shower after this... way to drag me all the way to hell🫠🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Fwb!Captain MacTavish - @waves-against-a-cliff - can we PLEASE leave our legs open for this bear of a man?👽👽👽👽👽👽
Forgotten Sorrows - @ethereal-night-fairy - you must enjoy breaking hearts because why are you out to get me like this🙃💔 like honestly, every time i go back to read this fic again, i'm left in tears over how exquisitely gut-wrenching it is. so thanks for taking a sledgehammer to my heart🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲 (p.s- that PriceWitch x reader smut? a soothing balm to my soul after the hurt you left✨)
John Price
Price with a breeding kink - @luvit - finding out that i don't want kids... unless it means i'm being bred by Jonathan Price was an 💫experience💫
John Price x witch!reader - @neoarchipelago - that's it. i'm taking courses on how to be a shapeshifter because if this is what it takes to find my fictional man, then so be it🐈‍⬛
The Space In Between - @391780 - this exquisite mafia fic will always have me in a chokehold and i have made my peace with that because i wouldn't have it any other way🥂🖤
Who wears the pants - @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries - husband!price being a total simp for his wifey and getting jealous when his boys see how beautiful she is? sign me. the fuck. up🔥
Price Headcannons - @blckbrrybasket - listen. idk who's giving you this information but these are the most accurate hc of john price i've ever seen. who's your source?👀 and don't think i didn't catch the rest of the 141 hcs too, you're on my radar now👀👀👀👀
At The Barber - @sofasoap - i think it's extremely accurate when price doesn't want to go to the barber because he's anxious about somebody holding a sharp object to his neck and you've captured that beautifully💖💖💖💖
Captain Knows Best - @slater-baby - kelsi.exe has stopped working😵‍💫💫😵‍💫💫😵‍💫💫 i need to be checked into a mental hospital because this wrecked my brain and my pussy beyond repair🔥🔥🔥
Touchy - @glossysoap - my thighs are available 24/7, 365 days a year for this man and i have absolutely no shame about that🎀
Konig
Bite me. Love me. - @cookiepie111 - if he's a walking red flag then we are at a carnival and i'm colour blind🎠🎪
Geto Suguru
Mine, Mine, Mine! - @teamatsumu - when will i find my feral alpha who wants to breed me? when?🫠
Todoroki Shouto
Fingerprints - @andypantsx3 - i'm so glad i found this fic again because i binged it and licked it off my girl dinner plate with not an ounce of shame🍽️
Bakugo Katsuki
Resistance - @yesitsmewhataboutit - genuinely sad when i lost this fic before i saved it but the fanfiction gods took pity on my soul and brought it back onto my lap💐 love you for this masterpiece💞
Honourary Mentions
The Pit - @peachesofteal - Peach, i will never not be in awe of your dark and twisty fics and this one in particular because it's so phenomenally delicious🪻🌑
soap x reader x ghost - @rowarn - i volunteer as tribute for Johnny to learn his new skills on me🙋🏽‍♀️
Netflix And Chill - @luvit - am i ashamed of the whore i became because of this fic? nope. absolutely not and i thank you for it🔥🔥🔥🔥
The Highlands Of Your Heart - @spectres-n-soap - how. dare. you. break. my. heart. like. this🙃💔 ...do it again (no, i'm kidding pls don't)
Let Me In - @eilidh-eternal & @groguspicklejar - this wasn't meant to become a whole series but that's what happens when a fanart sparks the creativity of two moots and thus, an accidental fanfiction series was born✨✨✨✨
mafia!141 - @cordeliawhohung - since we're mafia sister wives, i think this series deserves a spot in this hall of fame🖤✨ taking my time to read this because i want to savour it
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thanksbutno98 · 2 months
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random brainworm that suddenly seeped into my brain… so i remember the one time john got badly hurt it was when jj was still small, and now jj is all grown up — even wanting to join the military.
john’s still fit, but he’s not as young as he used to be. i don’t think his body recovers as quickly as it used to, and it’s genuinely scary for indy to think that he might not survive the injury that happened to him years ago, now.
(forgive me if i accidentally skipped over a part where price said he wasn’t going to go out on deployments again)
but do you think john has ever had a worst-case scenario conversation with jj?
like what if one day all that made it back of john was his dog tags? is jj prepared to take care of his mother and sisters? has he thought about what his dad’s job could do to his family if it went horribly wrong?
apologies if i’m rambling, but the thought of john dying in deployment and leaving indy has been eating me inside out because i am not letting that man die unless it’s of old age with indy!
no pressure to reply, love your work as always 🤍
Hello love,
So I’ve toyed around with this idea of what John not coming home would look like. Going to be transparent and say I refuse to kill off any characters. I can barely acknowledge Soaps end so John’s gonna be safe.
As for has he talked to Jj about worst case scenario, no he hasn’t. Indy and John agreed long before their kids were old enough to understand that John’s job does not affect their kids home life. He can talk about work but details and the work itself stays in his office, locked up tight and far away from the children.
Indy won’t allow John to have a worst case scenario with Jj because it’s too much reality for the young boy. Jj already takes his dad way too seriously about keeping his sisters safe. John’s never said more than “keep an eye on everyone.” And that left Jj feeling like he has to fill his dad’s shoes when John’s deployed.
It’s Indy’s job as the wife and mother to ensure everyone is taken care of if anything happens to John. And if anything was to ever happen, John and Indy have a worst case scenario plan.
John has keepsakes, photos, and hand written letter explaining that he wasn’t able to make it home for each of his children. He also has hand written letter for when they turn 18, get married, have children of their own if he was to die before then. Indy and John wanted to have these letter for life’s biggest events so their children could still feel their father’s love even if he wasn’t there to give it.
So Jj’s not the person John will turn to it’ll always be Indy. I hope that answers your question :)
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raapija · 10 months
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hi! first of all thank you for all your translations and your posts in general it truly feeds the brainworms so very well!!!
i was wondering about how people often talk about "jere from vantaa", what kind of place is vantaa?
also how hard is it to learn suomi because honestly i've kinda fallen for the language heh
Thanks!! 💚
So, Vantaa is a city that's part of the greater Helsinki region (Helsinki is our capital city). I think people that are from Vantaa often think of the as more simple and don't like getting grouped into other Helsinkians (people from Helsinki??? What are they called??). He likes to think he is just an ordinary small-city fellow, not a superstar by any means, and likes to stick to his roots and not make a big deal out of himself.
Vantaa is still an insanely big city, in Finland at least, 243 000 people is A LOT in here 😂 It's a culturally significant place with lots of museums, old churches and architecture, musical festivals, a big-ass science centre... It's now sort of fused in with the rest of the Helsinki metropolitan area, but still has a long and rich history on its own. I'm not a Vantaa expert, wikipedia probably has a way better (and more accurate) answer to that 😂
And what comes to the Finnish language... Well... It's one of the hardest languages to learn in the entire world 😅😅 It has insane grammar, crazy-long words, difficult pronunciation and worst of all, umlauts like å, ä and ö. You really have to have a burning passion for learning it, I won't lie.
The amount of grammatical cases is absolutely bonkers (14, or 15 if you count in accusative) and the rules sometimes contradict each other 😍😍 It really is a horrible language to learn, I'm so happy I'm a native so I don't have to think about it 😂 Also, there are two ways we can speak it, the literary version that is used in more official situations and then the spoken way, which is a sort of a dialect and can sound a bit different. And on top of that, there are even more dialects and regional shit HONESTLY I could talk about how bad it is for days 😂😂
Here's an iconic example of how easy our language is 💚🇫🇮
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phaerlax · 4 months
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Pairings grid of my NU:Carnival fanfics
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(This idea is totally lifted from @zerenovation)
It seems I have written... a certain amount of NU:C fic. Alas! Yellow cells indicate hopefully upcoming fics or chapters. All of these fics are grouped together in a series for convenience. If you're curious about a particular pairing, you can access the sheet and click on its links:
Note that it also includes a blank page if you want to copy it, and it includes the Garu & Karu table of sample fics for each pairing eheheh... 🐺🐺
Feel free to give me ideas whenever you think you got a brainworm that might appeal to me, based on the shit I write! The worst that can happen is me not writing it. This will be the case anyway if you don't share. Nothing to lose but your shame. I'm open to asks here and to all sorts of communication methods.
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thetrashbagswasteland · 5 months
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Get to know your fanfic writer!
Tagged by @teamdilf several days ago woops thank you tumblr WILL NOT give me notifications When did you post your first ever fanfic? I wanna say 2008, it was a beyblade/doctor who crossover and about what you'd expect from a 12 year old 😂
First Character(s) you wrote? Kai from the original Beyblade series', as far as I can remember.
Main Character(s) you’re currently writing? Castis Vakarian, Avitus Rix and Macen Barro. Also maybe my AU femShep (Mass Effect)
Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan to write about soon? Astarion (BG3) because alas I am not immune to the appeal of a shitty little vampire twink nor to the brainworms that game seems to give everyone who plays it
Fandom(s) you’re currently writing? Mass Effect (Trilogy and Andromeda)
Platonic pairing(s) you’re currently writing? Saren Arterius & Avitus Rix Sara Ryder & Avitus Rix
Romantic pairing(s) you’re currently writing? Avitus Rix/Castis Vakarian Macen Barro/Avitus Rix Vetra Nyx/Sara Ryder
Your top AO3 tags? Angst, Pre-Canon, Established Relationship and Hurt/Comfort
Current platform you use for posting? AO3 all the way thanks, that's my bestie
Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on? Here's some Tolerance Tested - Chapter 9: Muddied Waters; in which Macen has some awful realisations and far more truth than he ever wanted
Macen remained quiet, finding it hard to breathe if he were quite honest - here, in the quiet of the pre-dawn, a million kilometres and more than a decade away from the horror, he was still scared to hear the culmination of the tale. But Avi carried on regardless, desperate to get to the end of it, he thought. “Caught them in night-shift, just a couple of kids on duty. I ordered them to open fire and… when they refused, I shot them.” This time, he contemplated the bottle in his hands before sipping it once more. By all rights he shouldn’t be able to speak clearly at all at this point and yet here they were. “Two more for my conscience, for what they were worth. Then I trained the main gun on the outpost’s oxygen converters. Didn’t take much- two shots’d have done it, but I went with four, made damned sure it was a crater- made sure there was no more Dregir.” His mind supplied, uselessly, intrusively, platitudes about how little those people would have suffered; igniting their oxygen supply would have meant they’d have died from rapid decompression at worst and simply burned away in a fireball at best. Either way would have been ruthlessly efficient and mostly painless - likely dead before they knew what had hit them. It did plenty to explain the little moniker he’d heard though. The Reaper of Dregir. Horrific as it was, it wasn’t surprising- well, no, what was surprising was that the hierarchy hadn’t covered it all up. “You didn’t have a choice, baby.” Macen murmured, not daring to reach out again with physical comfort he was almost certain would serve only to put him on edge. “They must have seen that- you couldn’t have done anything different without the fallout being made your fault.” “Maybe.” Tension-cord tight, his voice nearly broke with the word, and then Avi shook his head. “Didn’t matter. One thousand and ten casualties, someone had’ta pay. I did my duty and trusted that they’d stand by me- what’s twenty two years of loyalty worth, huh? Turns out, shit-fucking-all.” Their eyes met and he couldn’t help but see resentment there - maybe not aimed at him directly but certainly at the ideals he chided Avi to go along with. “They threw me in a cell under Eldis; kept the court case small, blessedly, just some good ol’ silver barking questions and getting psychiatrists to prod at me, but it was still hell. Promoted beyond my capabilities and without sufficient consideration to my limitations - that’s what they decided in the end, and that fair enough, they’d let the victims families have my life for it.” Perhaps his surprise at that was too blatant, his instant, roiling disgust that they’d blamed it all on him too loud, given how Avi chuckled - dry and humourless. “Firing squad, Mace, that’s how they said they’d do it. One of the guards complained that t’wasn’t a hangin’; apparently the hanged dance for over a minute after death, d’you know that? He showed me, too.” Macen clenched his teeth, determined not to let his disgust at that slip out, if only because he suspected it’d come out as nausea instead. “I got the last laugh though. Hours before my big day, Saren turned up with a council-ordered stay of execution an’ demanded to take me away for their investigation.” Hours. Hours had been between Avi and being essentially murdered for the crime of doing the right thing- and with that, Macen knew for certain that he definitely had some calls to make. How could he not, how could he live with that information? But…. It did at least make it far more evident just why Saren had earned his devotion and loyalty; why he’d transferred whatever confidence he’d had in the hierarchy before then straight over to him. “He saved your life, quite literally.” Until that point, he’d assumed he’d meant it in the more figurative way but, no, he had genuinely saved him, hadn’t he?
“Dunno if that was his intention to start with.” His boyfriend shrugged, maybe leaning a little closer, looking a little more regretful instead of simply broken. “But he got everythin’ he needed outta me and hadn’t yet put a round between my eyes, so I started to get spooked. Asked him t’just be up front about it and… he put a gun in my hands- put his gun in my hand. Told me that if I couldn’t live with what I’d done, he’d understand and it’d be a right damned shame I’d managed t’get it off his hip and kill m’self before he had a chance to react but if not, that he thought it’d be a waste of a useful soldier.” His mandibles twitched with some half-lost in-joke. “Dunno why I said yes, in hindsight an’ given the hell he put me through in the name of training, but I did and…” “And here we are now.” This time, Avitus didn’t resist when he took his hand, just nodded and transferred the bottle to his other hand so he could keep going, as if he still had more demons to chase away with drink alone. Over a thousand- he had to have a fair few. And… that had been in one go. How many more ghosts had he gained since then? How much blood was on his hands that he blamed himself for? How had he lived with that?
tagging @spaceouttatime, @callista-curations, @ferowyn and anyone else who fancies doing this and hasn't yet!
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teeth-kid · 1 year
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teeth,,,what is chonny jash? having a curious and confused.
!!!! hi uhhh it's my brainworms rn
so it's basically he's this guy on youtube who covers tally hall songs except he takes it a step further and remakes the songs from scratch and adds/changes lyrics to fit a narrative
and what you probably see me reblogging stuff about is his characters Heart, Mind, and Soul who are meant to be singing these covers in his album, Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium
the plot of it is like. hard for me to explain now that im trying to type it out but basically it's about a guy who's depressed and split his brain into like personifications of his emotions, his logic, and whatever Soul is. it's kinda like sanders sides but a lot more edgy and a lot less specific and done entirely through song covers
Heart is the purple one with the blindfold, he is sad and has attempted murder at least once
Mind is the blue one, he's mean and has a low voice filter in the songs
Soul is the red one, he's kind of in charge and really wants the other two to get along (or else he'll kill them both)
and these three guys fucking hate each other so much lemme tell you. they want each other dead and im not even exaggerating. but also sometimes they learn to work together and eventually un-split. they may or may not be in a perpetual loop of splitting apart and hating each other and making up and becoming whole only to split apart again (which i've heard is meant to be a metaphor for chronic mental illness)
if you wanna check him out i might recommend starting with his cover (actually three covers) of The Mind Electric, since its a pretty good introduction to the characters and their dynamic (though it's definitely all of them at their worst), or his Welcome To Tally Hall cover which is more of a fun little introduction to CJ as an artist (though that one might be confusing if you're not familiar with the original song). Or you could just listen to the album in chronological order starting with Time Machine Reprise.
warning for heavy suicidal themes though in case that wasnt apparent
i hope this was coherent enough skfhsk
(also if you do end up listening the album and you have questions about lore and such pls ask me i don't know everything and honestly there would probably be better people to ask but i would love to talk about the jash forever ok thank u)
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straycalamities · 10 months
Note
who are your top 5 camp entre ships GO
LMAO AAAAA
if i say it’ll reveal that entre is my bicycle NOOOO
1. swagtre
2. swagtre
3. swagtre
4. swagtre
5. swagtre
okay real answer
1. yes swagtre: it has given me some of the worst brainworms and brainrot of any ship i’ve ever had in my entire life. how and why does it hold such power over me
the rest of these are in no particular order just as i think of them
2. rocktre: i shipped them as a joke even before they actually got close in the story and then i just got fuel for the fire >:)
3. seventre: the classic u__u trufflu seventre is so heart wrenching when you remember what they USED TO BEEE AND USED TO HAAVVVEE NAAUUURRRR im going to rip my heart out
4. swagstar: if u know anything abt me u know i shamelessly ship best bros. men try to have a normal platonic bromance? not on my watch. calling each other dude romantically is top tier
5. i forgot what we called it…whatever 72/swag: ENTIRELY SHAMELESS SELF-GRATIFICATION. THEYRE JUST HOT WHAT CAN I SAY? i salivated over their every interaction
ofc i knew that most of these would never happen (or happen…again? in one case) it was just for fun :)
except swagtre that’s not just fun. not just a hobby. that’s my career actually. not to mention it’s canon. also.
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skzms · 1 month
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I hadn't been able to pick a favorite until we dived deeper into SIC Seungmin and boy oh boy am I fucking in love. I only want one thing in life and its to somehow manifest into your Sharing is Casing world and just live there forever. As who? Not sure, maybe my own persona that somehow becomes part of all of it because yes.
SIC Seungmin is my favorite. Firstly, the switch agenda has a lot to do with it because since the first day I sent an ask we established we are the switch gods, you and me May
He's literally just so...so perfect? His dynamic with Minho and reader and how it brings out his subby side but the way he can still dominate reader or anyone else if he wants to sets me off! I just freaking love love love it so so much!! Learning even more about him would be absolutely fantastic whenever you're willing to share. If SIC Seungmin is mad I'm being so nosey that's his problem tbh <3
If you ever get the inspiration or want to write more about our beloved Switch King Seungmo I'm all ears because I'd so love to see who else he'd hook up with within the group and his dynamic with each of them. I'm actually super interested in seeing Seungmin's dynamic with Chan and/or (👀) Felix if they ever hook up!
- 🦁 [Ps: I'm sure you got the ask I was referring to in my second paragraph lol, excited to see your reply <333]
ah baby i answered it already and it gave me the worst brainworms imaginable you have no idea laskhakdsfh and im sorry if i post too much on this hellsite, though is that even a thing
and we ARE the switch gods lion nonnie!!!
more seungminnie is so noted for future instalments, should they come up ✍��
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thedragonagelesbian · 5 months
Note
future and mistake for cyrus? :o
:oooooooooooooooooooo
oc asks: not so nice edition
future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?
Solas: You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could've been, never fighting back.
Varric: Ha, you've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This is fighting back.
Solas: How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?
Varric: In that story of yours—-the fisherman watching the stars, dying alone. You thought he gave up, right?
Solas: Yes.
Varric: But he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone.
Varric: That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes. And it's gone forever.
Varric: The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.
Forgive the somewhat abstract answer, but this banter gives me brainworms, and I can't help but understand it in the context of Cyrus' worst possible future. Even in his other worst case scenario--being hollowed out and reduced to nothing but a symbol and a weapon--there's that possibility that someone else will be able to save him, that he will still be surrounded by people who care about and love him even if his soul is fractured and his body is claimed by arcane entities beyond his comprehension.
But losing everybody? Having to go on living alone? Having to make peace with failure and to face loss with grace? Will he ever be the type of person content to sit in the sun, to accept his own stubborn happiness and survival as a furious refusal of a world that has marked him again and again for death and despair?
mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?
DA2 Cyrus: leaving Bethany behind on the Deep Roads Expedition. He doesn't know that he would have lost her no matter what, of course, just that his absence led to her being taken to the Circle. The irony of course is that telling Bethany to stay in Kirkwall was a unilateral protective big brother decision.
He's tried very hard to fix this particular error, despite Bethany's insistence that he come to terms with the situation. In the month after returning from the expedition, he got himself badly hurt many times trying (and utterly failing) to break her out of the Gallows, and he spent more than a few nights imprisoned there himself. He keeps carrying that guilt and anger for years. Of course, Bethany does eventually leave the Circle in the end... if under less than ideal circumstances.
Pallybarb Cyrus: breaking his oath; it was a moment of pettiness and frustration with profound consequences, but with Karlach's help, he was able to accept it and even embrace the uncertainty and the flexibility that being a full-fledged oathbreaker comes with.
Shadow Sorc Cyrus: not stopping Astarion from emptying him like an industrial strength drain snake. He wouldn't have considered it a mistake if he had just died (pallybarb Cyrus did not mind that NEARLY as much as he should've), but instead it started a chain of events ending with his body lost and his soul bound to a sword, and that's not counting all the weeks of dysphoria and alienation and isolation and active self-destruction and...
So, um. No. He hasn't fixed it, and he DEFINITELY hasn't moved on no matter how much he tells himself and others that he is Really Super Fine (don't mind him screaming at abdirak to hurt him as bad as possible or letting volo icepick him or shotgunning tadpoles or--)
Ranger Cyrus: trusting [redacted], eventually remedied with a sword through the gut, a crack of divinity like a lightning strike burning out the hollow of a tree, a blur of blood and tears and screaming even as he cradles the dying body
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curiouschaosstarlight · 2 months
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yessss do all of them. For gensh <3
(I had to take this off of the official numbered list because my rambles are just too rambly, and tumblr started yelling at me......) 1.) my beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world fave: Bennett!! Bennett, Bennett, Bennett, I choose Bennett-- Also Chongyun and Freminent. Somft boys. Doing their best. Also could kick your ass. Also I have all of them. :3c (...Very sad that I had to take Chongyun off my main team, because Bennett's about to C6 and render him useless.)
2.) my trash-shit fave: I have no idea what this means, but I'm gonna guess that Dottore and Scaramouche belong here-- Especially Dottore; he's the guy giving me the MOST brainworms right now. (But I can't share most of the brainworms because I'd have to explain all the reasons why my version of him turned out the way he did, then be told I'm wrong anyway, so.) Anyways, I love Scaramouche/Wanderer's entire story, I love that he Has Problems but those problems aren't JUST that he's a little asshole bitch for no reason like fandom keeps trying to claim. Also I want!! Playable Dottore!! I want him so bad. Sure sure, to some people having him redeemed would be soooooo boring, but- Personally, I only have a certain amount of fun with villains that are villains for the evulz, and I LOVE characters with Potential (potential for both better and worse, sometimes even for the same reasons); also a lot of certain little details about Dottore gives me the vibes that he isn't the one-note crazy man basically everyone writes him as, which is apparently, supposedly backed up by the actual og Chinese writing of a few things. And I genuinely think that ANY way they go about redeeming him/making him playable -- be it revealing Tragic Backstory reasons, or a begrudging process, or "well I've decided I like and respect you, so sure, I'll behave, for now >:)" -- would be interesting no matter what they go for!! ...I'm genuinely gonna cry a bit if they do opt to just kill him off ;v; but if Gensh goes that route, I do hope it's at least to an epic boss fight or something. Full monster transformation, if possible.
3.) my I love to hate them fave: God, I have no idea, I'm not usually the type outside of very specific characters. I guess Signora might qualify? ...I'm not gonna earn much love with that one-- She's just, like...tragic backstory? Check. Pretty lady with beautiful theming and massive tits? Check. Front-story bitch? Yeah that's pretty fun! ...Why is it so hard to force her character to shift in writeys. Like, even thinking about alternate ways events could go on my own, it's like...she owns her own girlboss so hard, it borders on Ungrateful behavior (which tends to be one of the few kinds of behaviors characters can have that grind on my nerves). Apparently there's a chance she might get revived in Natlan, and honestly I'm hoping. I don't think it'll be the worst thing in the world if it doesn't happen, but I sure would like the excuse to put her back in the oven to bake some more, without having to wait for my brain to become actually hooked on her to do it.
4.) my I hate to love them fave: This one's gonna sound weird; Faruzan. ...Okay, okay, let me explain- So, y'all know how Faruzan had a boosted drop rate when Wanderer was first released? (...And I think it happened again when his banner came back around, but that's not important--) I was. SO. DAMN. DESPERATE. to get Wanderer. I had picked out a name for him months in advance (well, tentatively; some leaks a friend was looking at said you could name him, and I wasn't 100% convinced but I wanted to be PREPARED in case it really was true, and then it was!), both of my friends (including Devoid here <3) were pulling for him as well, and both got him before I did, which intensified my desire to get him. I had been saving up. I was doing SO MANY TEN PULLS. And I got. SO. MANY. FARUZANS. I think I had one ten pull that was, like, four Faruzans in a row. I had her C6'd extremely early on into my pulls, and then she just kept showing up. It was driving me mad. I don't really get too bothered by a character's in-game actions unless they're a specific kind of irksome, but messing with my pulls? That bothers me a lot-- Eventually I did get Wanderer, but I'd also gotten like...twenty or forty Faruzans in the process or something like that. It was ridiculous. And I was all set to just hate her forever. ...But then, like...her hangout comes out and that was really good. And then the event with Wanderer, Kaveh, Tighnari, and everyone happened, and THAT was also really good, and she's so affectionate towards Collei and hnnnnnn...Why's she have to be such a good character with such great taste in other characters?? Save me--
5.) my I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire non-fave: So, you know how I said that character actions don't tend to bother me outside of certain traits? Fucking. Royce. I hate Royce. I mean- I view Benny's entire ex-team rather unfavorably, but Royce's "almost-has-a-realization-just-to-backtrack-and-yell-at-Benny-again" behavior drives me up the goddamn wall. I'm sure there's other NPCs that piss me off but no one else I can remember by actual actions or name. I do have some playable characters I don't really like at all, but this category is very strongly worded for those feelings. (No hate to any Royce fans out there >////////< And also apologies, but this is probably the only time I'm gonna talk about him anyway, at least by name)
6.) my I didn’t care about them either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about them now I can’t stand them non-fave: I've been avoiding most fandom content precisely for this reason!! (...Unfortunately I've still gotten exposed to a bunch of shitty fan takes, but it for the most part hasn't shaken my character opinions much. My ship opinions however...) ...The most popular takes of Scaramouche and Dottore (by fans and non-fans alike) have only further solidified my personal vibes of wanting them more sympathetic and avoiding one-note portrayals like the plague. Signora has been on thin ice for a while because so many people are really fucking aggravating in regards to her, but she's yet to budge because I do feel mildly compelled about her. So hopefully that sticks. But I WILL absolutely despise Capitano out of sheer fan spite if he's revealed to be the 1st Harbinger, and there's a ~secret 10th Harbinger~, that is just, like...It's almost kinda neat, but so many people are being so bullheaded and shitty about it (mostly on reddit, I think), to the point it's invaded the wiki that I otherwise really respect for all the work that goes into it, that he just better fucking be the 10th or I will be UPSET.
7.) my I could take them or leave them kinda non-fave: Honestly, most of the cast. Up until about Sumeru, I really only cared about 2-5 characters per nation. Then with Sumeru and Fontaine, they've really knocked it out of the park with characters I absolutely adore and only one or two that kinda just fade out of my memory. I won't say which ones. !!!!!! IMPORTANT NOTE!! This has nothing to do with writing quality or design quality or "oh my subjective opinion is absolute fact and anyone who disagrees with me is a dumb stupid idiot with no taste" or anything like that- It's just that I wasn't vibing too strongly with most characters; not for any necessary particular reason or failure on Mihoyo's part or anything like that. Just how it turned out.
8.) my I will go down with this ship and I won’t put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door. I’m in love and always will be fave ship: Dottore x Scaramouche is my BIGGEST ship right now, especially onesided. Especially reluctantly reciprocated. Primarily on Dottore's side. Also Fem Traveler/Lumine/Lillian x Everyone. Also Enjou x his weird "go ahead and beat me up" fetish-- Keep being funky you strange, fiery demon man. Love him. (Also Alhaitham x Kaveh, though I generally don't like looking at the fandom art for it unless my friend handpicks out the art for me, because their ver of Kaveh did irreversible damage to my brain and now when I see trans!Alhaitham and cis!Kaveh, my brain gets SO CONFUSED. It's just like "????? But that should be reversed, tho, obviously???" Like...no brain...it's not obvious. It's fine. You're just Attached.)
9.) my dirtybadwrong fave ship: Apparently Scaramouche/Kabukimono x Niwa is real controversial, which is very sad because I fucking love it, and also it seems like such an obvious and easy-to-like pick to me :P Also Kaeya x Diluc, which I know would/will? get me headhunted if this post shows up for the majority of the fandom. I'm probably forgetting a good amount of ships at the moment, but... (+ Bonus for both 8 and 9, but my extra myriad of Dottore ships where I'd probably have to explain how I ended up where I ended up, which means I'd have to explain the way I write Dottore, which means I'd have to explain-) ...Also Neuvillette x Furina APPARENTLY fucking qualifies, because as we all know, if the girl is short and cute and femme, she's automatically a child!! :) Don't y'all totes know she's Neuvillette's little baby girl daughter and not an adult and totally wasn't RUNNING AN ENTIRE NATION AS THEIR ARCHON for LITERAL FUCKING CENTURIES? Nope! Neuvillette, the person that totally wasn't working under her that entire time, has all the power in that dynamic, and totes sees her as a daughter, so it's problematic!!
10.) my they’re cute together and I dig them but I’m not all that terribly invested kinda fave ship: Most ships in the fandom, tbh. See- the problem is I don't really like protag Aether takes, and I'm just amicable to about 70% of the cast. And I might be a massive multishipping slut with few standards, but I do need to Feel Something towards characters to then Feel Something towards the ships, and when the general vibes I have with a character is "ah, they're neat" or "I like 'em well enough" or even "I don't really like them", that's just the kind of ~amicable vibes~ that lends to me going "that's cute! ...Anyway"
11.) my I didn’t care about this ship either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about it now I can’t stand it non-fave ship: Well, I have two. I won't say one because I think my vaguing gets more obvious if I say it outright, but someone I was following seriously bashed [ship I like a lot] while going "why dont people like THIS ship instead??? It's WAY BETTER!!", and. lemme tell you. If you want me to UTTERLY DESPISE your fave character or ship, the best way to do that is praise your fave while bashing another character or ship!! Fuck me, it doesnt even have to be a character or ship I even like, but for some reason it always fucking is. Like the sheer amount of people that go "Why dont people like [character] more??? They're much better than ITTO!!" like. 1. fuck you. 2. Itto has a MUCH LOUDER presence than whatever character you're trying to praise. 3. why does everyone always try to go after [specific ship I like a lot], or Itto? It's always them. Like they're making some big sweeping statement of "oh THAT dumb thing is getting attention for no reason!!" when like...entertainment factor, you knuckleheads. They're just onscreen and instantly make an impression. I'm really, really sorry your fave doesn't get as much attention, I get it, I really do, I've had barely popular/outright bashed faves before, but y'all actively hurt your case rather than helping it when you try to tear other characters/ships down to build yours up. I get that you're frustrated, but it's not fucking helping. Cut that shit out and then get back to me. Anyways. The other one that bothers the shit out of me for far more petty reasons is Wriothesley x Neuvillette, which. I feel bad about, to be fair. I feel sorta guilty for not liking it, because it definitely has potential. There's just one problem-- one of my biggest fucking pet peeves is ship bashing/attempted ship sinking (-gestures at my sarcasm a bit earlier-, which also sums up half of why I despise "child-coding" and "oh!! this small girl character is TOTES the daughter to these two gay men and definitely not responsible or mature in her own right uwu totally needs to be babysat by her two gay dads!!") in conjunction with people obsessing over other ships, and with Wriotheo and Nuevy, it started BEFORE the update happened and we actually saw any interactions. Like. I get it. They're two hot men and gay ships are hella popular. But with it occurring way before the update, thus way before any canonical interactions, it just felt like people were fucking desperate to make sure neither character could be straight-shipped with the two "children" they were actually working with (two full-ass adults, Furina and Sigewinne), which just drives me up the fucking wall. (And I can understand being uncomfortable with shipping characters that kinda resemble children, but I've seen way too many people go above and beyond any reasonable reaction to that sorta thing.) I want to like this ship. I really do. It could definitely be really good. But it's gonna take, like, a year or two, when we're in Snezhnaya and my frustration becomes a petty dumb memory instead of something I want to rant over. (...I'm sure this is gonna come back to bite me pretty hard, 'cause if this post makes the rounds people are gonna rush to be like "oh you're not OPPRESSED by gay ships!!" -> No one ever says they are unless they're a real smooth-brained fuckhead, "Oh, so we can't just have fun anymore??" -> I'm apparently not allowed to have fun, so neither are y'all. :\ If I can take fifty-million fans constantly trying to call me a terrible person for liking any of the ships and characters and takes I like, y'all can take one "this got on my nerves and I'm still mad even though I know it's dumb and petty")
12.) my MAKE IT STOP non-fave ship: Ready for me to burn another bridge? ...Can't stand Yae Miko x Raiden Shogun. Like- I see it, I absolutely see it, and I think it absolutely works, but. well. guess what? Guess that happened?? Shitty fans. Shitty fans that INSIST Yae Miko is canonically a man-hating lesbian and froth at the mouth if you dare even imply she MIGHT be the tiniest bit interested in a guy. I can't quite articulate how much I HAAAAATE when people try to claim their headcanon as canon and then treat other fans like shit for "violating canon" (that doesn't actually exist -- and god, even if it did, some of the behavior I've seen really goes above and beyond any realm of acceptability), and yeah. This is one of the biggest offenders. In general, I've noticed way more vitriol and toxicity out of f/f fans than any other kind of fan lately, and that is...ugh. again, I get it. Out of the ship combinations, f/f is probably the least popular in general and all that, and when you feel like your favorite stuff is getting passed over again and again for stuff you can't see the appeal in (trust me, I can relate, I've been in a LOT of fandoms), it's really, really frustrating. But also can we stop being shitty to other fans over subjective opinions? Fandom's supposed to be fun. I shouldn't feel like every other fan I follow would hate my guts over the pettiest of preference differences. (Yes this goes for more than just f/f fans, ofc, it's just those are the ones I've noticed the most recently.) !!! -> Please don't feel bad about liking any of the ships I listed ;v; For any reason-- I did Not put them down to shame anyone, and I don't judge anyone for liking ships and characters I don't like. I do judge behavior towards other fans, and if someone's really hostile to "competing" ships/characters, that also bothers me, but that's it. It's not the content itself that has or will ever bother me, so I really do hope no one who's reading this feels bad about their preferences...
->-> Primarily Unrelated but One thing that I lovehate about this, aside from the fact that if a bunch of people see this entire thing I'm DEFINITELY getting hatemail/a callout/something, but it also gives the impression I'm massively into m/m, which is amusing and frustrating at the same time. (Not the first time this sort of thing has happened, and I'm always self-conscious about it, because I hate when people have Incorrect Takes about my feelings/opinions, especially when I've openly described them but the other person's like "lol nope, I associate you with this more, so this is the truth now". Hate that shit.)
I'm actually primarily a m/f shipper (which honestly might be more controversial on tumblr, specifically tumblr, I'm not an ignorant dumbass about other places on the internet), that's just not how it turned out for Gensh, where I wound up mostly into the guy characters. Before I got extremely into Scaramouche (and then Dottore), Lumine/Lillian was my primary favorite character and the one I was focused on shipping with. She was also, like...the female character I liked the most, which I'm given to understand is an odd thing to say, I guess? Because western people don't usually like the protags of games?? Which is so weird to me. (<- Fresh off the Persona fandom where the Persona protags are also in my, like, top 5 characters of their respective games, and that is a hugely unpopular take for some reason.) (Though I guess I'm pretty weird in how I tend to play games and develop the protagonist's personality in my head + I usually prefer to play the fem character -> the fem protag of a game tends to be in my top 10 favorite characters)
For anyone curious, my preferences go m/f -> f/f -> m/m (least favorite), but that is also extremely arbitrary because of a few different factors, but primarily because I will write basically anything and everything. If I'm writing it and I'm having fun, then nothing bothers me, and I'll come up with all sorts of ships for all sorts of reasons. (Usually ships occur on a whim during rps, which then makes it hard to explain how I got to that result outside of rps...)
Anyways, I hope I explained my reasonings well enough m(_ _)m I could definitely ruffle more feathers if I, like, posted a character tier list or something, and I'm kinda tempted anyway, because...I dunno, a tiny part of my brain is like "hehe, stick it to the man >:3c", I guess? Despite the fact I would definitely not be actually "sticking it" to anyone, like If no one cared what I thought before, they're super not gonna care after this--
#ask game#devoidofdog#chaos opinions#the whole thing with Dottore (before anyone says anything about “oh you like DOTTORE stuff but not xyz?”)#the whole thing y'gotta understand#is that i've been utterly enraptured by evil doctors and mad scientists basically since...since kind of forever#Sailor Moon S DBZ Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Spider-man The Suffering Pokemon and i could keep going on and on and on#and to some extent i feel like i fucking ghostwrote Dottore in like...#“even with the most evil most vile take this is still a character i absolutely would have written”#the only reason i wasnt instantly hooked on him is because i spent a portion of my hyperfixation unaware of his existence#once i knew about him it was ON-SIGHT#that's just a specific-to-me kinda thing#also “hey Chaos that's a lot of pre-assuming responses and trying to pre-counter them. wtf is up with that?”#well dear hypothetical reader i have been on tumblr for a VERY LONG TIME and i've seen lots of people get VERY ANGRY for lots of reasons#so if im already going to be rambling i might as well add elaborations and qualifiers and try to make my stances clear#for anyone reading me in any kind of good faith#if anyone's determined enough to read in very bad faith then there's not much i can do#(especially with a lot of my ship opinions which are Not Good To Have in the current fandom climate)#but i'd still like to try#as an aside i swear i am a Certified Villain Lover i just generally get way more motivated about villains with Potential For Good/Tragedy#than i do with villains for the evulz#like. i do have some unrepentant faves and i love them a lot but that's just usually not where my vibes lie#and yes im fairly passive aggressive in this in regards to that but it's because im still butthurt about#1. people trying to reduce the entire Wanderer storyline to literally nothing because either they dont get it or they stopped listening#and 2. i've seen WAY too many people lately complaining about gensh villains being “too nice” and tbh i#am so fucking done with people that are UPSET there's redeemable villains in fucking anything#i know it was the hip cool thing to complain about in SU but also i could still count the amount of stories where#everyone evil gets redeemed instead of dying on like. one hand.#and that shit still doesnt qualify for GENSHIN. YOU KILL A LOTTA FUCKERS IN GENSHIN AND LOTS ARE UNREPENTANT#tumblr ate the rest of my tags so if i decide to talk about this more it'll be in a different post :(
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uhlunaro · 11 months
Text
FAIR PLAY
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pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader
summary: You’ve both made a bet, and neither of you are keen on losing. To even the playing field, you try something new—something that vibrates.
words: 3.5k
warnings: 18+ only (switch!leon, bindings, light choking)
notes: anon sent me an imagine that turned into a brainworm. and this is the result. i'm gonna go take a nap now jfc (added like 1k words from the first version)
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You’re nervous. He’s smug as usual, wrists cradled in silk, tied to the bedpost. Shirt hiked up to his chest, pants unbuttoned.
A bet gone wrong, of sorts. That’s why you’re here—christ, not like you’re complaining. The view is wonderful, and anticipation leaves you fidgeting atop his thighs.
“Do your worst,” he says, little more than a thick rumble. He wants this, and he does little to hide his impatience. The clench of his jaw, the twist of his wrists.
“You don’t think this is my worst?” you ask, ghosting fingers over the divot of his hip, skirting close to the slick length of his cock. His abdomen twitches, and your lips stretch into a grin.
“I know you. Wouldn’t show your cards this early.”
“Think you can take a little more?”
“I’ll take whatever you give me.”
Fuck. You’re a sucker for his vulnerability, and that one sentence doles out enough to overdose you. The look in his eyes, severity in devotion. 
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not playing fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war, right?”
Right. This is a battle of resilience, of wills. Much like sparring: assessing weaknesses, waiting for openings, a final blow.
Fucking and fighting don’t seem too different, after all.
“If that’s the case, you’ll be taking a lot more.”
His face falls when you climb off the bed, and the frame creaks as he jerks his arms in an attempt to free himself.
You level an unamused glare at his agitated form. “Don't be so dramatic. I’ll be back.”
“You’re evil. You know that?”
You sift around inside the bottom drawer of the dresser and lift out an indiscriminate cardboard box, then rise back up and turn to him, your eyes drained of jest. “Just say the word and we’ll stop.”
He’s stubborn, but he knows his boundaries. Knows yours. He promised you when this all started that he would never let you continue if he grew uncomfortable. And while these circumstances are rare, the type of play you engage in only when the mood strikes, he’s never crossed that line.
“No. No, I’m good.”
You join him on the bed again, take a seat on his thighs, and place the box on the sheets beside you. “In that case, I have a surprise.”
He blanches when you present to him a bullet vibrator, smooth and baby blue. A personal favorite of yours. “That’s not—“
“What? Fair?”
He stews in his frustration, furrows his brow and clenches his fists into the silk bindings. You press a soft kiss just below his sternum, soothe a comforting hand up and down his side, give a teasing lick to the head of his cock. 
“Damn you,” he huffs, a ruddy blush set high on his cheeks, eyes lidded and glossy.
He isn’t angry. Most likely an effort on his part to keep up bratty, combative appearances, lest he give in and break the bet altogether.
Regardless, your lips stretch into a boasting grin, and you lick a heavy, lingering trail from base to tip. He sighs out all jilted and stuttery, jaw relaxing, brows angled in upturn. Once again jerks the headboard forward.
“You’re gonna break that thing, so unless your idea of sexy is waiting twelve hours in the emergency room, I suggest you stop.”
“Just get on with it already,” he says, voice bordering on a growl that coils pleasured heat at the base of your spine.
“We’re making a bet, remember? Unless you’ve already lost.”
His head thumps back against the pillow, and you already miss the sight of his face. Can’t deny that you’re frustrated as well—how easy it would be to just raise up and sink down on his cock, all pretty and thick and slicked-up, just for you.
But the first one to give in loses, and you aren’t a quitter.
Unfortunately, neither is he.
He’s weighty against your tongue, tastes like the body wash from his earlier shower and the salt of precum, something beneath it all that leaves your mouth watering.
You bob your head up and down his length, and he spreads his legs as far as your knees allow, and the headboard bangs against the wall.
He pants above you, grunts out a chest-deep moan, and you gaze at his destruction with a mouthful of wet cock, swallowed down to the base, stuffed inside the tight sheath of your throat.
Just before he breaks, before you begin to gag, you pull away with a gasp of air. Spread the spit with a fisted hand.
He looks as fucked out as you feel, staring down at you with stain-glass eyes, a church window blue, and you’ve never really believed in the heavenly divine until you met him. A craving to worship.
The vibrator buzzes to life in hand, almost numbs the skin of your fingers with its intensity, and he stares down at the thing as if it gnashes sharp teeth.
“You wanna stop, you say the word.” He nods in response, throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
At the first touch against his skin, he jolts. Twists his face into a mark of pleasure-pain, bares the edges of clenched teeth. You ghost tight circles over his frenulum, the spit from earlier providing an easy glide.
He sounds pitiful beneath you, an offbeat rhythm of staccato whimpers that he muffles with a raised arm. His hips refuse to still, unsure whether to tilt forward or dig further into the mattress.
You steady your hand, press the toy more firmly against his cock, and he chokes out a pleasured sob—a noise so much prettier when he doesn’t seek to hide from you.
A hand curls around the front of his neck. A thumb soothes the line of his jaw. “Let me hear you. Please?”
He turns to face you, appearing almost agonized. The sharp sucks of breath through grit teeth, the high-pitched whines on each exhale. The dotting of sweat on his nose, the wetting of his hairline.
You twist the knob, and the vibration increases. His chest seizes for a moment, head tilting back to expose the thick line of his neck, a halo of golden hair upon the pillow. Your hand rises higher, fits nicely beneath his jaw, fingers resting upon his pulse—it hammers away beneath your touch, calls to you in rhythm. 
“If I could, I’d keep you like this forever.” A soft kiss to the side of his neck. “So pretty, aren’t you?”
You’re going mad, you think. You blame it on blood drain, a lack of proper oxygen to your brain. He trusts you to care for him like this, to provide what he needs, to know his limits. You. You. When have you ever felt more important? More powerful?
You tease a squeeze, barely a twitch of the fingers, but he reacts in kind. Bares his neck even further, chants out, “Fuck, yes, yes, please—“ and you’ve never been strong enough to deny him.
Your fingers tighten, and the vibration increases again. Only a few moments before his body gives you warning—he holds his breath, his muscles tense, his cock begins to jerk—
You pull away, the hand at his neck and the hand clutching the vibrator, until the heaving of his chest calms and his body slumps. Disappointed.
“This’s what you’re playing at?” he asks, tongue amidst the onset of word slurring.
You move to hover over him, hands braced on either side of his head. “Part of the bet. Remember?”
“No, actually.” He blinks up at you all bleary-eyed and slow, mesmerized, as if witnessing daylight stars for the first time. “I’m sure it was stupid as hell, though.”
“How about we make a deal? A truce.”
“A truce?”
“Admit we both won, and we can get to the point.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“You get to cum.”
He blinks. Considers a moment. Raises his brows. “Shit. Can’t argue with that.”
You steady yourself with a hand on his chest as you reach back to line him up. 
“Wait,” he says, voice croaking, and you stop. “Flashlight. Untie me.”
The knot you used is easy to unravel. Just a quick tug and he’s free. Rings of red encase each wrist, a sign of irritation, and you huff at him. Soothe a thumb over the skin. “What did I tell you—“
You’re shoved face-first into the bedsheets, and a heavy weight pins down your hips. A large hand presses steadfast between your shoulder blades.
You turn your face to catch a breath, and his lips meet your cheek. Soft and tender and loving, and you know he’s not angry with you, at all the teasing he (willingly) suffered at your hands.
“Hold still for me,” he says. A thick heat shifts between your legs, and the hand pushes harder on your back. “You did good. Think you deserve a reward.”
He slides into you, all tight and slick and you thank every god above that you prepared beforehand because he’s determined to cash in on that orgasm.
Each thrust jolts your body. A slow, deep cadence that leaves your ass smacking against his hips and a numbing pleasure curling like smoke from the pit of your stomach.
He whispers things unintelligible, spoken at the end of winded huffs. You like to think he whispers of you. His love. He’s never been vocal through the lens of verbage. Never could take dirty talk seriously. Maybe now, you witness him in his purest form, at his most vulnerable. Pinned down as you are, you certainly feel that way.
The rhythm of his hips stops, and you fist a hand in the sheets as he bottoms out, deep as your body will allow, curls protective over you, almost shielding in the way his arms bracket your shoulders.
“Jesus—fuck, Leon.” You grip hard at his wrist, attempt a tilt of your hips, but he has you right where he wants you. Filled up, restless, whining. “Listen, I’m sorry.”
He’s not angry, no, but he’s always had a penchant for revenge.
You just want him to move. Too much, too good, too hot. You sweat into the sheets, and he’s a space heater on the coldest days, and your heart threatens to break through the cage of your ribs.
“This isn’t about punishment,” he says, nosing along your jaw. “Here.”
He leans back, allowing you to brace your knees under your body, then smooths a hand down your spine. Spreads the cheeks of your ass, traces a thumb around the meeting of your bodies, the thick of his cock.
“You take me so well. Don’t you?”
You garble out an agreeing moan when he begins again with languid thrusts, a squelching savor of tightened silk, much like the discarded bindings on the pillow beside your head.
“You’re gonna kill me,” you say, pawing at the spread of his fingers, fitting your palm over the back of his hand.
“You can take it.”
He is. He’s going to kill you. You need more, something else, harder, fuck me, please—
He pins you down again, a large hand at your neck, pulls out until the tip remains inside you, pushes back in, hard enough that you jolt forward. Does it again and again and again.
“This more to your liking?” he asks, almost mocking, then follows the question up with a biting groan.
Yes. Yes yes it is. You think you’re drooling onto the pillow at this point. His hips angle perfectly, length brushing against the nerves that melt away at your insides. A burning, desperate intensity.
He notices the way your muscles tense, the way your breathing shallows, the way your thighs twitch. You’re close, and you pray he doesn’t stop.
You lower a hand between your legs, stroke fast over sensitive flesh, and he lets you. Hisses through his teeth when you tighten around him, gives a warning gasp before his cock jerks inside you, and he pulls out to spill onto your back. You’re left unbearably empty, sticky and warm at the base of your spine, muscles wrung free of tension.
Everything blurs. Your ears ring with static. He joins you, splaying out on his back, and he fares no better—breathless, laved in sweat that glistens beneath warm light, face ruddy at the cheeks. Beautiful. He looks beautiful. Beautiful and exhausted.
“That was. Good,” he says. Clears the gravel from his throat, an ego-boosting effect of all the lovely noises you pulled from him.
Your heart pounds, wracked by butterflies. The post-sex clarity has kicked in, and you always love him even more, every time your brain starts working again. All you wish to do is hold him. Remind him of what your love feels like, bathe him in under-appreciated intimacies.
“Just good?”
He breathes out all shaky, an attempt to reaffirm the rhythm inside his chest. “I can barely move right now. Cut me some slack.”
You rest a hand on his shoulder, ghost fingers over the echoed warmth of his skin. “Was that okay?”
“Very. Wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
“Maybe you could tone down the brattiness next time.”
“Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“That is a fair point, Leon.” You smile soft at him, brush your knuckles over a feverish cheek, a depiction of devotion. All you can give for now. “Do you need anything?”
He shakes his head. Takes your hand. Presses a tender kiss to your palm. “We should shower later. Not now, though.”
You know him. He wants to be held. Always does when reduced to skin-shed vulnerability. He won’t say it, has rarely admitted it, but he looks at you with starry eyes and seeks out the pulse of your wrist, and you never have to wonder with him.
“Give me your shirt,” you say, point to the drying mess on your back, and his expression morphs to blankness. “Don’t look at me like that. It was your idea.”
With a resigned sigh, he takes it off, and you aim a pointed glare his way as he wipes the fabric over the small of your back.
“What a gentleman.”
“Have I ever been anything less?”
Once the shirt is tossed aside, you pull him into a cradling hug. Tuck his head beneath your chin and trace a languid pattern over a muscled shoulder. “That’s debatable.”
Silence blankets the room as you return to a less winded state. He presses further against your chest, fits his ear over the gentle thump of your heartbeat. “You lost the bet, by the way.”
“See what I mean?”
His breath fans over your skin as he laughs, teeth teasing a bite against your clavicle. “I deserve that. Just as long as you give me my reward.”
“I’m letting this slide only because I’m too tired. So just… wait ‘til I can go to the store tomorrow.”
“No problem. I have the patience of a saint. Not like you’d understand.”
“Okay, you’re pushing it.”
“As I most often do.”
In the shower, both of you sit curled up on the hard tile, slumped beneath a spray of warm water. He complains when you reach for the shampoo bottle, when you rise onto your knees and tilt back his head. Of course he does. Wouldn’t know a thing about deservation if you hammered it into his skull.
“You’re gonna hurt your knees,” he says, looks up at you as your fingers lather the shampoo through his hair.
“I don’t care.” The ceiling light sparks a gleam in his eyes. Bonfire, galaxy, fractals. Soft as tears. You ghost a kiss between his brows. “If I did, I wouldn’t have offered.”
He falls silent. Closes his eyes. Steam fogs up the small space, smudges your vision as you massage fingertips against the base of his skull.
“That feels nice,” he says, swallows thick when you switch to light scratches over his scalp.
“Good. It’s supposed to.”
Hands circle around each of your thighs, thumb swiping over dewdrop flesh. He’s nervous, wary. “You don’t have to—“
“Leon. Will you just let me care about you? Please?”
“I am. Doesn't mean I’m happy about it.”
You pull away to fetch a cup from the shelf then hold it beneath the shower spray. Watch as it fills then overflows. “Well, that’s too bad. Does make me sad, though.”
His struggles have never been explicit topics of conversation, but they linger around him like ghosts. Demons, morelike. He discusses them in coded messages, a recitation of redacted files marred by black sharpie. What you’ve pieced together so far can be reduced to survivor’s guilt and earth-shattering trauma.
Raccoon City. Had no business leaving there alive. A stroke of unluck. Forced to exist with those consequences, to carry along such senseless deaths in ceaseless eulogy.
But you’re happy he did, couldn’t imagine a life without his presence, and that’s… that’s hard for him to accept.
“You wanna watch a movie after this?” you ask, slicking back his freshly-rinsed hair. “I got a bunch from that video store while you were gone.”
He wipes a hand down his face, shakes off the excess water. Collapses back against the wall with a soft thud, appearing boneless, malleable from your affections. “Willy’s place?”
“Who else’s?”
His gaze darkens, brows knit together in remembrance, and you lean a shoulder against the water-dappled wall. Curl your legs beneath you. “He hasn’t said anything else to you, has he?”
“No. Actually, he’s been on his best behavior. Even gave me a free movie.”
“Good.”
“By the way, what’d you even say to him?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You saying that makes me even more worried.”
He pulls you close, throws both legs across his—again, comfort in skinship. A greedy undertone to the action, (mine), that rends your insides to putty. “I took care of it.”
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. In fact, you never fail to remind me.” You snort out a laugh, and he smiles at you all beautiful and worshiping, a stretch of inviting lips.
“Because you need to be reminded.”
You can’t be too angry with him. He needs the peace of mind. At least he knows, wholly, absolutely, that your safety is ensured.
He often makes mountains out of molehills, though. Such as the situation with one Willy from Willy’s Wiles. An angry Leon does one inappropriate comment make.
The man was an asshole, though. 
You scrub yourselves with a sweet-smelling body wash, from the (dis)comfort of the hard tile flooring. Sleepiness morphs into exhaustion some time between the first and second leg. Yawns become frequent and unavoidable. As you rinse off, the water raining from the shower head begins to cool.
Still, neither of you plan to move, and your stomach twists in disapproval.
You sigh at him, into the curve of his shoulder. “I hate to say it, but we gotta get up. There are things to be done.”
He’s nodded off four different times, yet he audaciously cuts you with a glare. “Says who?”
“Our water bill, my ass on this tile,” you stumble up to your feet, balancing a hand against the wall for support. “I’m also really hungry.”
“Food does sound pretty good.”
You push the knob in, and the shower turns off. “You thinking take-out?”
“Absolutely. You couldn’t pay me to cook right now.”
“Damn. The sex was that good, huh?”
“If you have to ask, then—“
“No. Don’t start.”
As he rises, his lips stretch wide into a grin. Droplets dot his chest, a glisten to his skin that you spread with tender palms. 
“What are you doing?” he asks, amusement thick in his tone, brows dipped low as he searches your face.
“Drying you off.” A blatant lie. You simply wish to touch him, to soak up his warmth—a reminder that he’s still here, still okay, still alive. “A little counterproductive, now that I’m thinking about it.”
You step away from him with a sigh, no matter how badly your chest aches. Something about him makes you short-circuit, makes you do silly things. You can’t help it, knowing what you know.
Mallets and hammers prove ineffective on his psyche. He’s stubborn, needs a gentler approach. Kind words, affirmations, intimacy—above all, he requires safety. Security. A four-walled sanctuary where he’s free to flay open his chest and bare his heart a while. 
And you like to think you’ve made some progress.
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tearsoftime0086 · 9 months
Text
We'll Always Have Casablanca
Salutations I have come with even more resident evil brainworms. Fic part 1 of 3 (tbd), follows several years after the ending of Once (That Was Enough). Written as gen fic for every character alluded to, though if I squint and feel like it's otherwise I can defs tag. Also sorry for rough formatting - wrote this all on mobile while AO3 is down. Hope you enjoy!
Characters: Steve Burnside, Leon Kennedy
Summary: Steve gets an unexpected request from a distant acquaintance.
Word Count: 634 (of 4185)
Warnings: Alcohol use
~
It was the autumn of 2004, and Steve was starting his last year of college in Virginia. With NOVA being damp and cold, and Claire out traveling for Terrasave, he spent most of his time stuck at their apartment. Sure, he still hung out with his old dorm friends, but the past year and a half had been sobering. Chris' intel had shown traces of a bioterrorism incident in South America with t-Veronica involved, but the US government was taking extreme measures to keep it covered up. Steve didn't want to think about how that virus ever made it out of Antarctica (because eventually his ruminations all came back to him), and so he committed himself to his biomed papers. Could've sworn he wouldn't follow in his dad's footsteps, but it was therapeutic to at least start putting together the pieces of how his body worked. He'd never be able to get a government gig (medical testing would out him immediately), but he'd looked into some private sector jobs, and was confident he'd be able to get hired as discreetly as possible.
He'd read halfway through a paper when his cell rung, blue screen flashing an unknown number. It was a series of rapid texts. Steve opened his phone, wondering who it could be.
Is this Steve?
It's Leon
Leon... Kennedy? The last time they'd met was back in '99, when he'd awkwardly delivered a bottle of Makers Mark that he'd made Chris buy for him. (All the adults bought alcohol as thank you gifts - he just hadn't been quite adult enough to buy it himself). They were acquainted, sure, but not enough for him to message out of the blue like this.
Yeah, it's me.
You lost Claire's number or something?
Steve typed, in the only conclusion he could reach. Leon was another guy who traveled frequently - maybe he'd lost her contact info while abroad. Then again, why would he have his?
The response is fast.
No
You're still in nova right
Yeah, what's up?
The next message is an address - closer to DC, but nearby enough for him to recognize the zip code.
Can you get here now
Need advice
Don't tell Claire
The stream of texts paused for a moment, and Steve took the time to try and process all this. That nasty thought about South America suddenly became much more relevant. There were very limited ways he could be useful to a government agent, but Leon surely understood that fact just as much as he did. Claire had told him how Leon had insisted on utter secrecy about t Veronica back in '98, squeezing her arms across her chest as she recalled Leon's near-outburst. When Steve had met him in person, he hardly seemed like the guy in her story. He was a strait-laced, handsome, if not somber guy. He'd taken the awkward gift of whiskey with the politeness of a natural conversationalist and the steady gaze of a seasoned veteran. As Sherry had so aptly put it during their visits, Leon was her hero, and clearly exuded those qualities.
'Uncle Steve' on the other hand... tried his best.
Hell, he'd help out. Everyone he knew held Leon Kennedy in high esteem, and if he wanted info in person about t-Veronica or whatever else, so be it. Worst case, he'd ask Claire to bail him out... Somehow.
Sure - everything okay?
He added after rereading the last message. The desire to keep it from Claire was still unclear.
The next response was looser.
yeah just dont tell claire yet
you can handle keeping quiet for a day right
Steve felt mildly offended - sure, he'd be the perpetual kid in this twisted found family of his, but he could at least keep his mouth shut.
>:(
Omw
Then again, maybe the instant need to type an angry face meant something about his character.
next
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deltaruminations · 1 year
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ok fuck it. now that i have new and exciting flavors of Teen Gaster brainworms let’s bullshit some headcanon fodder
managing the unintelligible font issue: the kid just doesn’t talk very much. he mostly interacts non-verbally and we get descriptions from narration and reactions from other characters, like kris but a NPC. in the event that he does speak maybe other characters echo his sentiments back so players can get the gist and keep moving in the moment. potential for comedy here too
as a party member, i’m guessing some kind of scout or support class. rogue/assassin/sniper or artificer. frail, bides time, needs a lot of coverage/defending, but potent when he does ACT. former could balance kris & noelle (fighter & cleric), latter could balance kris & susie (fighter & barbarian). in either case it’s still kind of uneven, or at least requires new strategies, which could be interesting/challenging
if, as speculated, ralsei leaves the party at some point, that leaves potentially two characters (kris & susie or kris & noelle) alone with this chaotic stupid whiz kid and free to make Extremely Bad Choices (cue ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN)
given that ralsei is potentially his future self’s OC how funny would it be if Teen Gaster just can’t fucking stand the guy. he thinks ralsei is such a sopping wet blanket preachy goody goody motherfucker he rolls his eyes every time the dude even opens his mouth. maybe ralsei leaves the party because Teen G is so passive aggressive to him he’s like "yeah this guy sucks. i’ll be at the castle call me when he gets himself killed trying to eat weird mushrooms or whatever"
also very funny to consider UI Gaster creating the world’s nicest most patient fluffy boy to be his own past self’s babysitter but his past self is such a dipshit even his carefully engineered nanny program refuses to deal with him (and/or UI Gaster is so bad at intuiting what people like/want he can’t even create a friend for himself)
gaster continues to be his own worst enemy and living in hells of his own making
his tea tastes like Something but no one can figure out what the fuck it is. vaguely licorice-y maybe (asters are sometimes used in tea but it isn’t too common these days. but aniseed is also notably star shaped…). it heals a random amount between 40 (who the fuck is this guy) and 70 (yeah he’s ok i guess) each time except to ralsei who loses like 10 HP from it. Teen G gets like 120 HP from everyone else’s teas except ralsei’s which he just refuses to drink
actually you know what susie probably really likes the dude. come on. she’s got the biggest heart ever. she gets 120 from his tea and is like “HELL YEAH!! BLACK LICORICE!!!" and ralsei looks at her like she’s insane
noelle finds him very off-putting and gets bad vibes but goes along with it because he’s Nice Enough Right? whether or not she eventually decides to trust her gut on this significantly impacts the trajectory of things (potential for Noelle-Ralsei Solidarity Moment as well)
fwiw a lot of this could also be reworked to fit papyrus, especially if you’re in the camp of What If Papyrus Deltarune Is Kind Of A Shithead speculation. make of that what you will
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