#and also i'm just so tired and i wish the world had been kinder to me and is that really unfair of me to feel cheated

[the-everqueen]

Hi! So this first ask is about the concept you have for that X-men monster fic 👀

so ao3 user darthpumpkinspice dragged me down a Pierce/Logan hole and now i've read everything (in English) in the tags and am subscribed to a current fic-in-progress. i need to make clear: i have not seen Logan (2017). i've read the wiki summary and i know what hugh jackman and bhol look like. pero now i'm invested in smarmy Donald Pierce getting the shit beat out of him by a burned-out Wolverine and/or being a pretty princess/fucktoy for Wolverine.

(go read Twice Shy. and then, just because it's good Rose-as-Dream fic, Heavy Lies the Crown.)

anyways. given this context. i want a fic where Donnie gets revived/captured by A-T in the wake of film events and they test a new serum formula on him and it goes...wrong. cue Logan (also revived, and/or time loop shit, we know i love a time loop) breaking him out, thinking he's going to leverage this little shit for info to dismantle A-T, and instead he's got a handful of monster. two ways for this to go, imho: Pierce is turning into something wolverine-adjacent, with all the gross and delightful body horror and fear of losing humanity that comes with it. i find this fun because wolverines are related to martens and i DO think it's on the nose in a darkly funny way if the (metaphorical) weasel is becoming a (literal) weasel. also wolverines are solitary animals (ha) so putting two of those in close quarters and being like "work together!" has great potential. alternatively, Pierce's body is coping badly with a botched metamorphosis into bhol-as-Wolverine, with all the fun pain of "hey bone claws actually really fucking hurt and when not reinforced with adamantium they aren't a GREAT weapon, actually, because bones break," and "rapid healing factor doesn't stop things from hurting, esp. when 'things' are a pissed off adamantium-reinforced mutant who wants to use you as his personal punching bag." either way! i get Donald Pierce Coping Badly With A New Set Of Instincts, and the delicious playground of "what if we took someone who is definitely traumatized and has been masking that with violence and suddenly/horribly reoriented his whole sense of self while making him dependent on the person who wants him dead more than anyone else."

the first option has the potential for a...softer ending. not kinder, maybe, but it could result in some uneasy truce with elements of pleasure. second one is pure whump. for me, the attraction of this pairing is the flip of a hero into a small-scale villain for someone who absolutely deserves hurt. the reparative factor in non-whump versions is the classic "you have been seen at your absolute worst and someone still thinks maybe you could've had kindness, maybe there's something worthwhile at the bitter pit of you." but there's also the bit where it's like: you are Logan and you are tired. you have been saving the world since forever and it has not fucking gotten better and no matter what you won't die, you can't die, you wish you could die so at least you could stop. and the ghosts keep dragging you back against your will, and living so long makes for a LOT of ghosts. and then this bitch of a kid who tells you he's a fan is in your hands, and he's done a lot of bad and feels no guilt for it. and maybe you could make him sorry. at very least you can have this: you can prove to yourself you're a monster.

#ask games #ama #logan/pierce #x-men #comix #violetoftheendless #i...yeah. #basically i think we could all be a LOT grosser with bodies in any given fandom and the dc comix universe gives you a lot of options #once more i look at a comix character and think ''oh honey i could do right by you'' (and by right i mean SO WRONG lmao)

[paralien]

Is it dual wielding 50% school and night shifts or is it me that's giving me at work panic attacks. is it a me issue? sorry I'm like barely holding back a world breaking anxiety/panic attack at work and using all my will power to sit very still and breathe normally so this might be a long one but like, is it a me issue? am I just bad at managing my time and myself and is it me that's causing the world to feel like it's ending?

I mean, the world feels like it's ending for very many reasons that like, I refuse to properly share even on the over sharing website or w people i know which might be it like. I've got it in my head that as long as I just suck it up well enough it'll somehow disappear into a deep dark void never to be seen again and magically, somehow, my friends will talk to me again and I'll stop feeling so awfully world breakingly heart crushing lonely which doesn't even make sense. Because I'm currently living with my best friend and i love them so much so why do i feel so heart breakingly lonely and as if my life is irrapearily broken and destroyed and nothing will ever be well again?

I just, I have a 0 tolerance now for anything going wrong and it's making me isolate because I don't want to lash out but im also tired of the fact that all that'll excit my mouth is hi how are you doing I've been crying for a week straight ♡ like hello shut up shut up shut up what the fuck no one cares! that's stupid shut up! suck it up! I go to work i attend my classes I don't have any time to do my schoolwork bc all i do is sleep and then wake up for work and work and it has to be a me thing how can't I actually find the time to do it I'm supposed to have 8hrs free for school work but all i do is sleep.

I want to be kinder i need to be kinder i need people to love me and miss me and care if I'm here but I currently feel like if I didn't no one would even notice because why would they? I feel so awful. And i dont get it i try so hard to be nice and supportive and kind but does it matter? does it matter. does it? it's so childish. it's so insanely childish I'm in my mid 20s so how can I suddenly end up so unstable iut of nowhere? I'm exhausted of being exhausted and I'm tired of being lonely but I'm too terrified to reach out to people because if they don't do it first and havent done it first in weeks then why does it matter?

I want too much. I think that's what it all boils down to. I want too much and i can't have it and I can't speak up about wanting it either because how childish is that? how childish how foolish how absolutely ridiculous. how stupid.

I wish I could break into a million pieces and everyone would say how sad and they'd feel sorry for me but i can't those pieces are no ones responsibility but my own. how silly how foolish i just want attention but that's selfish so so selfish so i can't ask for it. I just want a hug. I want someone to hold my hand. I want someone to hold me in a tight embrace for hours until I feel steady again like i can breathe again and i think I had a realization and I can't I can't. I don't want to be selfish i don't want to be a burden i don't want them to grow tired of me. I feel like people have already grown tired of me. I've grown tired of me. and I've had a realization and I think ill take it to my grave because I cannot say it i can't how foolish. how absolutely folish. how selfish. how absolutely selfish you are

#fanya.txt #incomprehensible vent #let it be said despite it all that ill be fine or i dont feel like ill be fine ever i feel itll only get worse until something happens #but I'll like. be here #i have work and school and ive gotta make sure the roomie has a car for work #does it even count as bad if i still go to work? if im present in my classes even if i cant do my hw? #who knows #who knows who knows

[iamaprettyghost]

I wish I was a witch...

As the fly flew and hit my window, I stared in total shock because that incident just made me realize how awful life is. I mean humans are just a part of a deadly equation and so is every living thing on earth. Yet we still live our destiny as if it was happening at the present moment which doesn't not make any sense. Since death is our destiny yet so many people are dying alive. All this makes me wish I was a simple witch , a rebellious one that fears no one, that is feared so much no one dares to hurt her, a witch that does not love the wrong people, a witch that isn't controlled by her emotions, a witch that casts spells and makes potions to hurt every one because she is so heartless. I am just so tired of being the kind therapist to a racist world full of stupid mysteries.No, wait, I am not evil I promise. The truth is I want to be a witch to clear this stained world from all the dirt in it and by dirt I do not mean infectious people I actually mean their evil witch-like powers in order to keep them to myself only. And whoever tries to steal it from me will die, yes , DIE. All I want to say is that I'm tired, my pillow is tired of being the only one to wipe my tears, my fridge is tired of being the only one to comfort me, my eyes are tired of crying, my skin is tired of stress, and finally I simply wish I was dead, so dead that I wouldn’t be able to lift a finger, so dead that I won’t be able to feel pain at all, so dead that nothing will hurt me anymore…But nothing feels better than giving birth to the witch in you. Nothing feels better than balancing both your feminine and masculine energy whether you are a male or a female, nothing feels better than going on the magnificent journey of discovering yourself, nothing feels better than laughing until your belly aches, nothing feels better than being the witch in you… Everyone has a witch inside of them, and if you let it go, if you let it be, you will be the happiest human on earth. What i mean is that we all had our names run through the mud, we get older everyday, and as we go through that process, we will realize that we are not always right and that there are many things we could have handled better, so many situations where we could have been kinder and all we can really do is forgive ourselves and let our mistakes define our past not our future. Healing is NOT an overnight process. It takes time. Sometimes you will be high on the skies, others you will be down to the ground. But you can help your soul by allowing the witch in you to thrive. The witch in you has two poles, it can be extremely kind to yourself, or extremely bad to others. The question that you may ask is how to give birth to the witch in you?The answer is very simple, but not easy to do but I trust you and your pure heart will be able to do it. The witch in you is mysterious but networks, the witch in you is kind and giving unless she is giving more than receiving, the witch in you is able to cast cursed spells to everyone and anyone that disrespects her, she is also able to cast spells on her environment to see it as an opportunity instead. And finally, you must gather the courage to leave the table if respect is no longer served, you have the right to leave disgusting people, you have the right to be yourself regardless of your mistakes, you have the right to embrace the mystery of the witch in you, and remember that you are a ringster…

Ihssane Nejjari

[llamabombz]

Personal rant//please ignore unless you want to//I'm not your dad do what you want

So, hey this is kinda out of the ordinary for me. I know my blog is just and endless series of reblogs, a neverending stream of shitposts of anything that give me even an ounce of happiness. But I think at a point where I just need to say something

I'm really tired of the life I've had to live this far, all the people who came and gone, all the people who I have now I feel guilty of even bothering cause I feel like I've never made any effort to make anything or myself. I feel like a waste of time to myself and anyone else I've ever known.

And all of this this is just sucks. I have nothing to come home to. No one who I can meaningfully share my life with. My family is distant, my friends have their own shit to deal with and at the end of the day I have to tell myself that its ok to just live my life for myself, and that's great in theory and all of it wasnt total bullshit.

I want to have more friends, I want to make meaningful relationships with people, it's just I've never been taufgt how, and I know that sounds stupid but like how do you really tell someone "hey I want you to be a part of my life" without it sounding like a desperate plea to escape loneliness.

I'm stuck

Stuck in a world that has no place for me, and stuck in my own body that I've grown to hate as the years go by. Like on top of the defects and degenerative diseases I get to enjoy living with leaving me disabled In my own fun little ways I also just wish I was born as like anyone else. I'm trans, it took me a long tike to figure that out and now I get to live the fact that I may never be able to transition.

Like can the world just stop for like, two days, it's ok world you can take a fucking weekend I know your schedule of making everything worse all the time is full but seriously you can take a break. Make it a long weekend you deserve it you dumb piece of shit.

Anyways I'm drunk. I walked an hour to a bar in the middle of the night cause I couldnt stand the idea of going home after work for the millionth time.

To those who loved me I'm sorry. I tried. I really did. I'm trying every day, and I know it might not look like it but I'm so tired. I tried to give you all I had and I know now that it might have not been much, but I'm growing, I'm changing and I'm trying to catch up with everyone the best I can.

I wish the world was kinder, I wish we could all get the chances we need to grow and change. I guess I've just run out of hope at this point. It's not like I'm gonna off myself I made a promise to someone so I'm stuck here no worries about that. I just really wish I could get a second chance.

I'm prob gonna delete this later once I'm sober. Goodnight Tumblr, I hope you're doing better than I am I really do mean it.

[sinnaminsuga]

(GIF was sent to me by a friend so i'm not sure of the owner! if it's you let me know so i can credit you!)

Title: Be Gentle With Him

Summary: just some soft geralt. he deserves the world.

Word Count: 1,130

A/N: hello! this idea just popped up in my head and the lovely @wendimydarling encouraged me to write it out! wendi i cant thank you enough for being so sweet to me and always being there for whatever dumb questions i have 😂💕

Tags: @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @infinite-shite @inlovewithhisblueeyes @october505 @hope-to-hell @littlefreya @viking-raider @the-soot-sprite @raspberrydreamclouds @thelastsock @connieisland @nuggsmum @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @foodieforthoughts @geek-eat-repeat @oddsnendsfanfics @oddduckthatgirl @feralrunaway @its--fandom--darling @madbaddic7ed

(if i missed you let me know or if you want to be removed also let me know! ☺️💛)

This hunt had been particularly grueling. I knew by the way Geralt had come limping to my front door in much worse shape than when he’d left. Seeing him in such a state threw me into nurture mode and I pulled the large man through the door of my cottage just as I had many times before. Silently Geralt slumped into a chair at my kitchen table as I began to fix him a proper meal while also collecting the things I’d need to soothe whatever ailments he most likely had brought home with him.

After he was fed and mended, I drew a bath. There was no doubt that his muscles were sore and tired, the man was a monster hunter for god's sake. Swinging a sword around and dancing with death every day took a toll on his body no matter how much Geralt wouldn't admit it. I searched through my cabinets of herbs, potions, and elixirs to find the right combination. I began adding my collection of items to a bowl, under the watchful gaze of the witcher. Almond, chamomile, and lavender oils joined dried calendula and rose petals in the bowl. After adding a dash of red clover blossoms, I made my way back to the tub to turn off the faucet. I retrieved the bowl and scattered its contents into the water, the inviting scent eventually taking over the room.

Geralt sat in the corner, still silent, but observing. Once the bath preparation was finished I made my way to him and slowly started ridding him of his clothing, and he just let me. When he was fully undressed, I removed my own clothing and stepped into the tub, motioning for him to join me. I sat with him between my legs, and began gently washing his broad body. He hummed every now and then as the cloth travelled over his skin and I found myself smiling a little, happy that he was finally letting me take care of him. I scrubbed his scalp and hair with a mixture I’d concocted, effectively stripping the dirt and grime from him.

When I'd finished cleaning Geralt I tugged him back to lay against my chest. He needed to rest and I was determined to help him. We layed there in the steaming water, my hands tracing his shoulders and digging into the muscles of his strong neck every so often, peppering soft kisses over his exposed skin and now clean hair. Suddenly his breathing became uneven and his shoulders slumped against me. I softly tilted his head so I could see his face and that's when I saw. He was crying. Geralt of Rivia, the mighty White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was crying in my arms. The offending briny liquid slipped down his cheeks in what seemed to be a constant flow and he attempted to tear his amber gaze away from my face, but I wasn't having it. “Geralt, sweetheart, speak to me.” I said landing a kiss to his forehead.

“It seems to be becoming increasingly more difficult to leave you, little dove.” He spoke quietly. “And I know I must go. I have to provide for you somehow. But my heart longs to be here, with you. And it's making me clumsy. I’m so wrapped up in thoughts of you and my desire to return home, that I miss things. I never miss things, little dove. Never. I let a monster get the drop on me because I was too busy planning my route home. I don't think I can keep doing it. But then I think “what use would she have for me if I was around all the time?”. You’ll grow tired of me dove, I know you will. And then what? What's this old witcher to do then hmm?” He finished speaking and sniffed a few times before attempting to turn away again.

Bracing my hands on both sides of his face, I forced Geralt to look at me again. “Now you listen here good sir. I will never grow tired of you. Never. Do you know how many nights I've spent laying awake, wishing you weren't out there in harm's way? How much I wished you would return home days early?” I said, fingertips brushing over his cheek. “You don't have to do this Geralt. I’d take you as a monster hunter or a farmer or a stableman. It doesn't matter to me. We’ll find a way to get by no matter what you choose to do. Your mother stole that choice from you long ago and I won't be involved in doing that to you for a second time. You can be whatever you want. As long as you're mine.” I whispered into his hair. “Come now. The water is getting cold.” I said, moving to extract us both from the now tepid water.

The conversation in the bath seemed to be cathartic for Geralt and he was in a much better mood, teasing me as I dressed and tickling me whenever I passed by him. “Would you mind doing something about this, little dove?” He asked shyly, a small smile gracing his beautiful face as he gestured to his fresh clean hair. I nodded emphatically and grabbed a brush and some small thin leather strips from my drawer, then made myself comfortable on the bed while directing Geralt to sit on the bench at the foot of the bed. He grabbed a book from my shelf and made himself comfortable. “Read to me Geralt.”

I started slowly and gently detangling his long hair. Parting it down the middle, I listened as his voice rumbled out the words from the book in his big hands. I couldn't help but marvel at his hair, it truly was beautiful. Soft and silky, it slipped through my fingers like rays of moonlight. The more I toyed with the strands, the more I could feel him leaning into my touch, happy and comfortable. I continued to part and weave his hair into two wide braids, tying off the ends with the leather strips. A few wispy pieces too short to stay anchored within the braids, framed his face and curled around his ears. I slid out from behind him and knelt between his open legs, my hands holding his cheeks. “So beautiful. Truly.” I whispered as my eyes roamed his face, meticulously committing the sight of his blushing cheeks and wide smile to my memory. Before I could do anything else, Geralt pulled me up from my kneeling position and cradled me in his lap.

“You make me want to be a softer man little dove. A kinder man. I think that is what I shall become. A better man. For you.”

THE END

#mine #henry cavill #the cavillry #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #henry cavill fanfic #geralt

[doubleddenden]

So I've been in a sonic mood for the most part recently. Blame the recent Chao in Space animation for that. I'm trying to get my gamecube working again to get SA2 going. All I need is a controller, and it's coming soon.

I decided to look back at Sonic Forces. Tbh it isn't too terrible not great mind you, the main flaws it has are these:

Levels are way too short

The game is way too short

Classic plays like ass and really had business being there

The world map is clunky af

The maps are very hallway ish with little to no wiggle room for exploration, save for few instances

The story feels flat and rushed

The levels all feel rehashed

There isn't enough to customize your character with

Wispons should just work with all wisps

And again, it's not as terrible as some critics make it out to be, by no means, but the game is hardly... well, a game. I went through all the levels and beat them in about an hour. S ranks too. It's more like Sonic Generations DLC that came very late.

Meanwhile I stumbled across Sonic Unleashed for 360 and got it for maybe $2 out of pocket ($13 on a gift card from my bday in September). The controls are a bit clunkier but for the first game of the Boost series, it definitely has

The most length for your buck. Sonic Forces took me about 6 hours to beat my first round with story. Its taken me about 40 minutes to get through the first continent and about an hour to get to Mazuri (to be fair, my buttons stick).

The best graphics. Colors competes, sure, but Unleashed runs on stronger hardware and depicts realistic areas, whereas Colors takes advantage of its setting and lighting to really bring out something unique

The most realistic world, minus the cartoon people

The best writing of the Boost series

The best damn animated opening first scene. Period. Nothing has beaten it yet.

And sure, some of it has aged a bit. I'm seeing polygons and textures I didn't originally notice back in 08. But it's really weird how they made sure this game would last a while. Sure Werehog can be a bit tedious, as well as medal collecting, but this game will definitely keep you busy, and the environments hold up very well and manage to keep very unique environments.

Also maybe its nostalgia, but Jason Griffith really found his stride in Unleashed. I know we all bitched about 4kids dub, and I for one prefer new Tails, but Griffith definitely has a certain soul to Sonic that Roger Craig Smith has yet to replicate, imo. Its probably the script, tbh. Unleashed was the last time they really bothered to make an original script that worked. Colors is amazing as a game but the story really took a major decline that would set a precedent at making Sonic this overly confident douchebag vs a cocky but good natured thrill seeker that Griffith brings to the table.

My only complaints so far are clunky controls and lack of variety in gameplay the likes of Adventure 2 and Heroes brought to the table, but the control bit is definitely partially because of this shitty controller.

In other words, I wish we were kinder to Unleashed. Its bounds better than 06 and definitely has soul to it, even if it doesn't always shine true 100% of the time. We were honestly spoiled here before Lost World and Forces kinda muddied things.

Well. And Boom, but that's a different studio and an entirely unfair circumstance to BRB.

Also Chip. Chip is adorable. I know he seems Goofy, especially coming off the trails of the Super Serious Adventure era (which I addmittedly do want to go back to and would KILL to see the true vision for 06 realized without SEGA and Microsoft ruining it by rushing), but it's endearing and it really makes you care for him. Especially when you know what happens to him.

Man. I hope we get to this place again. I'm tired of cringey writing.

#sonic unleashed #sonic forces

[pickalilywrites]

Probably super weird to ask since I'm heavy EreAnnie still, but because of the new chapter, any chance for a weird Eren X Yelena fic?

a good ship! i love it! thank you for letting me write for you ^^ also tell me if you hate the ship name we can come up with a new one but i’m just bad at it 

thank you to my shy editor who was afraid he would only be holding me back but has managed to make everything so much better 😙

Don’t Leave Me Alone 

YeRena. Canonverse. 

1326 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

She was hardly a child when her homeland had been invaded by Marley. They had taken her when she was just a little girl, ripped her from the arms of her mother, and forced her into the military with other children who had been stolen from their homes. Even now, she can hardly recall the faces of her parents or what her old house looked like. Whenever she tries to remember her childhood, all she can remember are the cruel military officers that would work them until they collapsed, molding them into weapons they could use because they were worth less than the citizens of Marley.

Yelena remembers sleeping on mattresses so hard that they felt like stone, pressed up against strangers because the Marleyan officers refused to give them enough space to sleep. It didn’t matter if they ended up suffocating from being cramped into such cramped quarters. After all, Marley could always round up even more prisoners from the countries they conquered and force them to be their soldiers. Yelena remembers that thought the most—the constant reminder that even though she could be used, she was still disposable in the end. It’s a thought that terrified the rest of the prisoners around her. They would weep beside her—not just young girls next to her but even grown men in the corner of the cabin when they thought no one was awake—because they were afraid they would be abandoned when they were found to be useless for being too weak or too slow.

But, Yelena never shed a tear. While the rest of those around her were constantly threatened by the thought of being thrown away, Yelena used it to become stronger.

She gritted her teeth even as her body was covered in cuts and bruises. She fought, and she killed. She even stained her hands with the blood of the innocent if that is what they wanted. Whatever they believed a soldier should do, Yelena did it. If she could be used by them, they would be less likely to dispose of her. All she had to do was survive.

But even as she climbed the ranks, she knew that her safety could never be ensured. It wasn’t just the fact that she could be killed in battle at any moment. It was also the fact that no matter how loyal and strong she proved herself to be, the Marley could get rid of her on a whim. If they became suspicious of how she was climbing the ranks so steadily, if they found her to be a potential threat, or if they simply just wanted someone to use as a scapegoat for their problems, they could easily just do away with her.

It’s what had led her to follow Zeke in the end. Perhaps his plan was uncertain to bring about any real change, but she could easily slip away and act as if she had no idea about his plan to overthrow Marley. If he succeeded, she would finally be free of Marley’s chains. In the end, she had more to gain than she had to lose by following him, so she slipped away onto a ship to Paradis only to betray all of the Marleyan soldiers on board, forcing the others with her to become prisoners—or “volunteers,” she told them because it was a kinder word—to the Eldians of Paradis because she was sure it would set her free. She even greeted the monstrous Attack Titan—the famed Eren Jaeger that Zeke had told her would be the key to achieving true freedom—with open arms as she readied herself to build his trust in her by doing everything he wanted.

In time, she became a spy not just for Paradis, but for Eren as well. She would feed him the information he wanted—about Marley’s Titans, their military, their allies, their weapons—and he would trust her.

She could, of course, always align herself with the Eldians instead of plotting behind their back with Zeke and Eren. The only problem is that they would never truly trust her. She could see that in the way they looked at her, so she dedicated herself to serving the Jaeger brothers instead, believing that they would be her key to freedom.

But it seems she must have miscalculated, she thinks as she sits in the little cabin that serves as her prison. It’s admittedly nicer than any place she had ever been housed in as a Marleyan soldier, but being there alone still fills her with a dreadful lonely feeling no matter how hard she tries to shake it off. It is just a setback, she tries to convince herself, and she can easily make her way out by choosing her words carefully, tricking the Eldian officers that she is innocent of any crime or at least did not mean any harm in her actions. All she needs to do is stay calm and things will work out, but she finds herself growing more and more panicked with every passing second.

The plan is to break Eren out of prison and have those who were still free to help those who had been imprisoned—Yelena, Floch, Zeke, and the others—to escape, but Yelena fears she has been forgotten or worse—left behind.

It’s then that she comes faced with the fear that she had tried to ignore all those years before. She had not become stronger to fight against her kidnappers or escape to another place; she had become stronger because she was afraid of being left behind. She had convinced herself that if she became strong enough, fast enough—then they would never abandon her, but it seems she was wrong all along. Even after all of her hard work, her careful plotting, her loyalty—she was still being left behind. The worst of it is that she can’t even turn around and find a way out. She had betrayed the Marleyans, shown her true colors to the Eldians, and now the Jaeger brothers have left her to rot on this island.

But maybe it’s what she deserves, Yelena thinks as she stands by the window, looking out into the world that she had so desperately wanted to be a part of. She had been so pathetic—allowing others to use her and using others in whatever way it benefitted her—that it only makes sense that she be denied the one thing she so desires.

And so she swallows it down, the realization that she’ll be left behind like she was always afraid she would be and tries to accept it even though the thought of it is draining away her will to live any longer now that she knows her whole life is a waste. Even after enduring so many things just getting here—killing people, sacrificing others, betraying others only to be betrayed herself—somehow this is unbearable. She wishes she had died that night in Liberio instead.

But just then the door opens and she turns to see Eren Jaeger, thinner than he was when she saw him last and tired from the journey here, and she’s sure she’s dreaming. His followers had always called him a hero, but she only understands why when she sees him now in the doorway looking completely disheveled, still barefoot because he hadn’t even bothered to grab shoes before traveling here to free her.

“You came for me,” Yelena says to him in disbelief. She hasn’t moved from her spot. It all seems like a dream to her.

“Of course,” he replies. “How could I ever leave you behind?”

He says it so easily that it surprises her. To believe her to be so important that abandoning her is unthinkable… it makes her want to fall to her knees and thank him a thousand times over, but he holds out his hand and she takes it instead, allowing him to take her wherever he wants because she knows now that she’ll never be alone.

#yerena #eren x yelena #yelena #eren jaeger #canonverse #snk 110 #snk #scattershot98 #asks #answered #requests #it's nice to be writing again #hope to be taking requests soon ^^ #thank you guys for being patient ^^ #if you ever have qs for my editor that is okay too!

[bubonickitten]

So what do you think are anders best traits (other than him worrying about mage rights and him being a compassive healer?) I really love him and I love the way you write about him so I'm just curious.

There’s a lot I love about him :0

I mean, on a personal level, he’s a really relatable character for me, so that’s part of why I like him so much.

But I also like him as a character in general. (I’ll put this post under a cut bc it got long.) 

Him being a compassionate healer and being incredibly passionate about mage rights are huge parts of his character and they’re honestly two of the biggest things that make me like him so much. 

Like, here’s a person who was subject to systemic abuse for most of his life, who knows full well the repercussions of rebelling against the status quo, but does it anyway, because his convictions are just that strong. He knows that the Circle and the Chantry are fundamentally wrong. He’s experienced and witnessed firsthand what happens to people who fight back. Hell, when we meet him Awakening, he’s only just recently been released from a year of solitary confinement for running away - he just got out and as soon as he was able to, he ran again. If he gets caught and sent back to the Circle again, he’s going back into solitary confinement at the very least, and by the time he’s in Kirkwall, he’s also possessed by a spirit, so he’s risking just being killed outright. He’s risking everything by fighting back so openly and actively, but he does it anyway. 

And it’s not just Justice’s presence that makes him so willing to fight. Even when he was running, he was fighting back, because by constantly running away, he was refusing to submit. But in Awakening, Anders did feel like he couldn’t have any impact on the status quo - he believed that things would change eventually, he believed that the way mages are treated is inherently and fundamentally wrong and one day things would be different, but he didn’t think he’d ever see it in his lifetime, and he didn’t believe he of all people could do anything to enact change. Justice helped him realize that he could be an agent of change, but that fire and that strong sense of right and wrong were already there - it just needed to be validated and encouraged, which Justice did for him. 

And I do like that Anders needed support to be able to get to that point, bc I feel like that’s... realistic, y’know? I don’t like the idea that everyone should have to fend for themselves and not have to rely on others to stand up and fight. He couldn’t do it alone, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He hasn’t gotten much support from others throughout his life, so I like that in this instance, he had someone to lean on. (And I still wish there were more opportunities to support him more actively in DA2.)  

Like, it was difficult for Anders to admit to those feelings of powerlessness - which is entirely understandable, because in his experience, showing that kind of vulnerability could get him killed or worse (if the templars considered a mage to be weak-willed, they might not even give them a chance at the Harrowing and just make them Tranquil outright - and Anders is canonically mentally ill, which I imagine added an extra burden in terms of hiding his vulnerability). So, outwardly, he talked a big talk about only being concerned with his own freedom and pretends to be more apathetic and careless than he actually is. 

This also shows a lot in terms of his sense of humor - it’s a lot of morbid sarcasm, irreverent joking, gallows humor even - because he uses it as a shield and a coping mechanism. Ngl, I love that aspect of him, it’s one of the things that started endearing him to me in Awakening first. I play my Hawke as having a similar sense of irreverent, snarky humor, so they play well off of one another. Humor as a coping mechanism is a character trait I tend to appreciate and relate to a lot, haha. 

Anyway, I think in actuality he cares so much it hurts. It might not seem like it when we first meet him in Awakening, but I think it’s just that it’s easier and psychologically safer for him to pretend he doesn’t care than it is to admit that he does care but feels powerless to change things. It takes a lot of strength (and also support from others, which again, is something that Anders hasn’t had much of throughout most of his life) to be able to confront your own vulnerability and try to channel it into something that benefits others. 

But even in Awakening, his actions often contradicted the “I don’t care about anyone but myself” talk - if you tell him to run away in the beginning of the game, he’ll do so, but he shows back up like five minutes later because he felt like he couldn’t leave the Warden to fight the darkspawn alone (he jokes about being “bad at the whole ‘fugitive from justice’ thing”, which... turns out to be way more accurate than he may even realize in that moment). In the endgame, he’s not eager to go along with the Warden to Amaranthine, but if you do bring him, he’s one of the companions who will argue against leaving Amaranthine to burn - his instincts might tell him to run, but he cares too much about the survivors in Amaranthine to leave them to their fate. 

Not to mention, canonically, spirit healers are kinda rare. They derive a lot of their power from spirits of compassion, which means earning spirits’ trust and cooperation. A person who isn’t compassionate probably wouldn’t be able to earn that cooperation of a spirit of compassion in the first place. Not to mention his interest in being a healer in general - it’s a big part of his identity, to the point where in DA2, one of the things he worries most about is not being able to heal anymore because he’s so afraid that he or Justice will accidentally hurt one of his patients.

I think a lot of his attachment to the healer role is also tied up in his own internalized belief that he has to be a Good Mage in order to deserve freedom - it seems contradictory, it’s something that goes against his stated principles, mages shouldn’t have to prove themselves and be ‘good’ mages according to the Chantry’s fucked up doctrine to deserve freedom and life and love, but he lived in the Circle for at least half his life and he definitely internalized a lot of the hateful messages they taught about mages. Fighting against those teachings is a constant battle for him - which also ties into his occasional crises of faith, because he’s an Andrastian and all the spiritual authorities in his life have taught him that he’s a non-person, that he’s inherently sinful and cursed and deserving of subjugation because he’s a mage. 

So, he has a lot of moments of self-doubt. He has a lifetime of trauma and abuse that affect his present well-being. He has a lot of self-loathing and a lot of fear of himself (the latter esp after merging with Justice). He doesn’t see himself as worthy of love or care, even if he talks passionately about how mages deserve those things - he often doesn’t give himself the same consideration that he’s willing to give others. He has an incredibly complicated relationship with his own anger - because his anger is totally and completely justifiable, but it scares him, because he associates rage and anger with demons and loss of control. (I think a big source of the conflict btwn he and Justice is how they differ re: embracing and accepting anger. For Justice, that anger is righteous fury, it’s justified, it’s a source of passion and change. For Anders, it’s a source of fear and insecurity a lot of the time. I think a lot of their miscommunication is rooted in that fear.)

But Anders works himself half to death trying to help as many people as he can for as long as he can, and even though he’s barely making a dent in all the suffering he sees in the world, even though he’s risking everything, he just keeps going, because that’s how strongly he believes and that’s how much he cares. Every mage he helps escape the Gallows, every patient he helps in his clinic is worth it to him. That kind of perseverance in the face of hopelessness and doubt and a world set against you is really admirable to me.

And I also like how clear it is that it doesn’t come easy to him. It’s not just some inspiration porn “you can do anything you set your mind to if you just try :)” thing. He stumbles a lot. He fails a lot. He spends most of DA2 in a constant state of anxiety and desperation (esp since he really doesn’t get much support from the people closest to him, except like… Justice and Hawke, if you play Hawke in a supportive role). He’s idealistic, but he can’t help but dip into periods of hopelessness and depression and doubt - partly because he has a mood disorder, partly because that’s just… expected for someone who’s seen as much shit as he has. His life is messy and he’s tired and it shows. But even when he’s running, he’s fighting. Sometimes, survival is in itself a form of rebellion and he’s a walking example of that. He is stubborn and although sometimes it’s a negative, it also has its perks. And that passion doesn’t just manifest as rage - it’s also love, because lbh, he is a hopeless romantic (in a dorky, endearing way at times) and in his romance route he loves Hawke fiercely.  

It’s a shame that he didn’t get more positive character development in DA2 (it’s no secret how resentful I am toward the writers, he and Justice really deserved better). I headcanon him over time learning how to communicate and coexist with Justice; learning to practice self-care and be kinder to himself; more fully accepting that he has a right to be angry and he doesn’t have to prove that he’s deserving of personhood or love.

And he has a fair amount of flaws for sure - he has a tendency to project his insecurities onto others (e.g. Merrill), he’s not a good ally to other marginalized groups (e.g. elves), he sometimes lashes out at others when they don’t deserve it (which, although I understand why he behaves that way, it still isn’t fair to others who are on the receiving end), he was manipulative in the ‘Justice’ quest (I understand his motivations but despite his intentions it wasn’t acceptable behavior) - but I think he has an ability to better himself in those areas and I like to headcanon that personal growth for him. (That’s not to say I want him to be a flawless character - nobody’s perfect, and a flawless character would be pretty flat and unrealistic, but I also like when characters are allowed to have personal growth in a positive direction.)

I guess, in all, he’s an interesting, likable, and relatable character for me - I wish the writers treated him better, I have a lot of criticisms wrt how he (and Justice) were written (including how Anders was treated as a bipolar character), and I’m also willing to criticize him where it’s deserved (I have a whole tag full of meta w/ my criticisms of him) - but overall he’s one of my faves.

 Tbh the reason why DA2 is my fave game in the series (despite all of my criticisms of the writing in it, esp Act 3) is the characters. Hawke is my favorite protag and DA2 has probably my favorite companion group - like, Anders, Merrill, Fenris, Isabela, and Varric are some of my fave characters in the whole series - so the characters are ultimately what make me like that game.  

#/ #// #/// #//// #////// #dragon age #anders #anders meta #i guess #long post #Anonymous

[calciseptinefic]

solo and pair

Yuuri!!! On Ice || Victor Nikiforov/Yuuri Katsuki || Hasetsu, Part VII notes: also available on ao3. warnings: none

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part vi

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After Yuuri fails to qualify for the Grand Prix series, life returns to the same monotonous rhythm: morning runs, school, evening practice, school work, and sleep. Occasionally, a minor competition or exhibition will shake up the monotony. Yuuri wins a majority of them with the same routines he performed at tri-regionals, though at the gentle behest of his part-time coach, he minimizes the two quads in his free skate to triples.

"You don't have the right number of rotations," his instructor says. "We can continue to practice of course, but for now I think we should increase your number of combinations and focus on your presentation. That should buff up your points."

Yuuri acquiesces, and only the plethora of prizes—the ribbons and trophies, the monetary consolations and the small prestige—help soothe the sting of disappoint. He needs to start landing quads if he wants to further his career, but it seems that not matter how hard he tries, he cannot pass the point he has reached.

"You're plateauing," Nishigori says one day as they sit on the benches outside the rink, boots laced and hard guards on as they patiently wait for open skate to begin. Yuuko, already graduated from high school and working full time at Hasetsu Ice Castle, is helping a small semi-circle of children take their first tentative steps on the ice. "It happens."

Yuuri huffs, irritated. He knows that all athletes plateau, and he knows that they often do so multiple times over the course of their careers, but knowing it and experiencing it are two entirely different things.

"I've plateaued before," Yuuri bites out. He sounds whiny and petulant even to himself, but he cannot care. He is tired of his lack of progress.

"Then why are you letting it bother you?" Nishigori slaps his broad palm down on Yuuri's bouncing knee. It does not hurt but it does startle, and Yuuri jumps in his seat. "You have to let your body catch up to your ambition. Take a break." Nishigori grins. "You do know what a break is, right?"

Yuuri frowns at Nishigori's teasing. Though it is good-natured and friendly, it still strikes a nerve. Yuuri knows that his body—freshly seventeen and nearing the rough end of adolescence—is adjusting to the physical and mental rigors of semi-professional figure skating, but it has been months, and he hasn't completed a quad of any sort. Even the easiest jump—the pick assisted toe loop—evades him. He feels stuck. Stagnant. In his darker moments, Yuuri wonders if this new plateau is actually his summit.

"I know what a break is," Yuuri mutters as he pushes Nishigori's hand off his thigh. "Don't be a jerk."

"Hey now!" Nishigori's self-satisfied grin grows. "I'm just being honest!"

"Oh," Yuuri drawls. "And here I thought you were just being rude."

A year ago, Yuuri's smart comment would have prompted Nishigori to scowl and punch Yuuri just a little too forcefully in the arm. Now, Nishigori merely laughs and knocks his shoulder companionably against Yuuri's. He has become more agreeable in the past year; he is kinder and easier to talk to. Yuuko says it's because Nishigori has finally grown up, but Yuuri—who has seen the soft way Nishigori presses his fingers to the middle of Yuuko's stomach—is not sure age is the only contributing factor.

"Seriously though," Nishigori continues once the mood mellows. "Taking care of yourself isn't just about training and eating right. It's also about taking time for yourself. Focusing on what's important." Nishigori's eyes follow Yuuko as she glides slowly backwards over the ice, a train of inexperienced kids trailing after her. "Besides, the longer you practice, the more likely you are to make a mistake and hurt yourself. Can you imagine what a disaster that would be?"

"No," Yuuri replies instantly. Though bruises, cuts, and chapped lips are a fact of figure skating, Yuuri has never experienced anything worse than a grade II ankle sprain. The ten days he had to stay off the ice had been the longest ten days of his life. "No, I can't."

"Then take it easy," Nishigori says.

"I'll think about it," says Yuuri.

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March in Hasetsu is a nebulous time. Snow clings stubbornly to the curbs while patches of grass brighten along walkways. Birds return to roost in blossoming trees, yet the sun remains a distant and heatless white disk. The thawing air being to smell of clean earth and sharp ocean salt. The chilly wind nips. The last of winter tangles with the first of spring and Yuuri—who spends half his life on artificial ice—puts on a coat but not his gloves before he leaves for school.

"Are you going to be home tonight?" Mari asks, taking a drag of her cigarette. They are sitting side by side in the private entryway as Yuuri ties his shoes and Vicchan's wagging tail thumps against the floor.

"Same as usual," Yuuri replies. "The rink closes at nine."

Mari exhales, smoke dissipating upwards. She taps the ashes from the end into a small ceramic dish she carries in the folds of her work robes and says, "You're not going to celebrate with friends?"

Yuuri is confused for a moment, thinking of Yuuko and Nishigori. He is about to say, "But I always meet them at the rink?" when he remembers that it is the last day of his second year of high school.

"Oh," Yuuri murmurs. He tightens the knots of his laces. "I don't—they're my classmates."

Mari scoffs, "What, so they can't be your friends?"

Yuuri frowns at his sister. There are classmates he talks to before the first bell, classmates he sits with during lunch, and classmates he exchanges good-byes with when the day ends, but he's never spent time with any of them outside of school. Few of his peers understand his dedication to his sport and those who do spend their time with their own passions. It's a little ironic; his parents had originally enrolled Yuuri in figure skating to help him make friends, but it ended up being one of the things that prevented him from deepening acquaintanceships.

"I didn't say that. It's just…" Yuuri shrugs. "No one's really interested in skating."

"Or," Mari drawls, "Victor Nikiforov."

Despite the faint flush that scores his cheeks, Yuuri is more annoyed than embarrassed at Mari's pointed remark. He turns away from her, pushes the heel of his palm against his sternum to ease the ache he always feels when Victor Nikiforov's name comes up, and huffs wordlessly.

"Okay, kiddo, okay. I'll stop teasing you about your crush." Mari laughs, a low rasp, and snubs her cigarette out in the dish by her knee. "Have fun at school."

Before he leaves, Yuuri scratches Vicchan behind the ears one final time and begrudgingly says goodbye to Mari. He is sure that the last day of school will be sedate and uneventful, and he is right; exams were completed the previous week, and the busy work his teachers assign is simple. Some teachers don't even bother with the pretense and announce a free period. Predictably, Yuuri's classmates break off into their usual cliques and talk about their plans for the three week long break ahead of them. Yuuri—who is not as anti-social as Mari accuses of being—joins such a group instead of staying at his desk and re-watching the previous Four Continents free skates on his phone.

"I'm going to my grandfather's in Hokkaido," one of the three other boys in Yuuri's circle says with a grimace. "There's still a ton of snow up there and he always puts me to work. I'm in the prime of my youth! I should be somewhere warm, playing video games and meeting cute girls at the café."

"You'd need a girl to actually agree to a date first," a second boy interjects. Yuuri and the other boys snort at the slight.

"Hey!"

"Maybe getting it will be easier in Hokkaido?" the second boy continues with a smirk. "At least those girls don't know what a meathead you are. Who knows? You might even meet your soulmate! I bet she's gonna be a country girl with a huuuuuge pair of—oof!"

The first boy punches the second in the arm, harder than is considered friendly, and they begin to slap and pinch one another over the desk separating them. It is not an uncommon thing; they push each other's buttons in the way close, lifelong friends often do, and no one in the room pays any attention to it.

"Man, I wish I got to leave town," the third member of their group bemoans to Yuuri. "I tried to get my parents to let me go to Osaka with my cousin, but they want me to attend cram school the whole time. They keep bringing up early entrance exams, too." He sighs and rests his cheek in the palm of his hand. "What about your parents? Have they been riding you too?"

"No." Yuuri shakes his head. "I mean, my older sister started working at the onsen right after she finished high school, and I don't think my parents ever said anything to her, either."

"Lu-uh-cky," says the other boy, drawing out and doubling up on the first syllable. "I wish I had a family business. I could just skip university altogether and get to it."

Yuuri says nothing. He does not mind the inevitability of working at Yu-topia—the onsen has been in his family for many years, and he likes the traditional, sedate atmosphere of the inn—but he knows that he cannot do so immediately after he graduates high school. First, he must find out how far his skating will take him; if he does not, he knows he will regret it for the rest of his life.

"What about you?" The question startles Yuuri from his thoughts. "What are you doing over break?"

"I'm—uhh—I'm going to practice my quad toe loop," replies Yuuri, truthfully if not a little cautiously. Mari's earlier sentiment rears its ugly head and makes Yuuri wonder if he's boring. He isn't interested in the same things as his peers—isn't interested in destination vacations, or studying for exams, or fooling around—and he is acutely aware of this fact. "I want to be able to land a quad by the time the season starts."

Yuuri will also be watching the ISU World Championships with Yuuko in a couple weeks, but he doesn't voice this plan. If he does, he knows he'll inevitably wax poetic about Victor Nikiforov and his stunningly bittersweet programs. After Mari's inaccurate assumption that morning, Yuuri knows he isn't ready to be teased a second time about his…. idolization.

"You know, I always forget that you figure skate," the other boy murmurs. "Aren't you nationally ranked?"

"Yeah," Yuuri says. He competed in the All-Japan Figure Skating Championships in late December and finished twentieth with an total score of 152.08. Yuuri is keenly aware that, if it weren't for his presentation scores, he wouldn't have ranked at all. "I didn't do very well."

Yet before Yuuri and the other boy's small side conversation can go into further, more difficult detail, the first half of their group stops rough-housing and pushes the topic back to their break. Yuuri is thankful for the change of subject. It has always been strangely hard for him to talk about his skating to people who aren't Yuuko, Minako, or his part-time coach; he puts too much of himself into the sport to express himself properly to people who aren't a part of the figure skating world.

The rest of the school day passes and ends uneventfully, and less than half an hour after break begins, Yuuri is in the locker room of Hasetsu Ice Castle. Nishigori is already there; he goes to a different high school than Yuuri, and he often beats Yuuri to the rink by several minutes.

"Hey," Nishigori greets as Yuuri sets his gym bag down on the concrete floor. Their assigned lockers are next to one another, as they have been for several years. "Not celebrating with friends tonight?"

"No," Yuuri says. "Are you?"

"No." Nishigori shrugs nonchalantly. "My graduation ceremony is next week, anyway. You're still coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it," says Yuuri. He knows that school has always been hard for Nishigori; Nishigori wasn't book smart, and he struggled through most of his classes. His diploma will have been hard earned. "I'll even wear a tie."

Nishigori snorts but does not say anything while Yuuri perfunctorily changes out of his school clothes and into the athletic gear he wears while on ice. Over the past year, Yuuri has grown several inches and lost the last of his baby-fat; his jawline is sharper, his stomach is flat, and his hips are narrow and trim. He knows he will never be as tall or as muscular as Nishigori, but those things matter less to him now than they once did, and Yuuri no longer hesitates when he unbuttons his navy slacks and strips out of his sweater.

Yuuri's lack of self-consciousness while undressing is also due to his customized soul mark cover. Minako had bought the first one online for his last birthday; in the four months since then, Yuuri has amassed a dozen of the same mark covers in various shades of black, blue, and gray. The cover is a sleeveless top that cuts beneath his ribcage, rises high on his neck, and hides every wild tendril of his mark. The fabric is tightly-woven, light-weight, and moisture-wicking, which is perfect considering that he wears one at all times: when he goes to school and when he works out, when he skates and when he dances, when he's at home and when he goes to bed. The only time Yuuri does not wear his cover is when he showers.

Once Yuuri is done changing, he sits down on the bench next to Nishigori and pulls on his skates. He hunches over to reach his laces, his sternum pressed to his knee.

"Yuuri," Nishigori says. "I… I want to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Yuuri—who is focused on properly lacing his boots over his high arches—does not quite catch Nishigori's subdued tone.

"I need a favor."

"Sure," Yuuri says as he moves onto his second skate. "What is it?"

Nishigori does not answer. Instead, there is a rustling noise as though Nishigori were shifting the clothes around inside his gym bag, then silence. It is not until Yuuri finishes his task that he looks up—

—and sees the small, unopened black ring box cradled in the broad palm of Nishigori's hand.

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part viii

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#fandom: yuri!!! on ice #pairing: victor nikiforov/yuuri katsuki #rated: m #victuuri #yoi