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#this is honestly so pure

thechaoticdruid · 3 months

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Tav: *breaks up with Astarion or Gale for someone else*

Astarion and Gale:

Tav: *Breaks up with Wyll for someone else.*

Wyll: Understandable have a nice day.

We don't deserve Wyll. He's just too good. Fucking takes it like a champ. What an absolute Chad.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #Tav x BG3 #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #bg3 wyll #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #wyll x tav #Wyll Ravengard appreciation post #Wyll is honestly the kind of man you should date irl ngl #I mean I'm stupid so I'd still probably go after Astarion #But you should date Wyll dear user #Wyll is too pure for this world

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buggachat · 6 months

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imagine, say, Bunnyx went back to Origins Season 1 and pulled Gabriel aside as he was considering picking up the Hawkmoth mantle and showed him, "Look, Gabriel. If you continue on this path, you WILL succeed in getting the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous. You WILL make a wish. But getting there will tear you apart. You will lose what humanity you have, you will literally rot away from the inside, spend the last months of your life in agonizing pain, Nathalie and Adrien (the only two people in your life you can even pretend to care about) will spit on your name and Nathalie will grow to despise you so much she will attempt to kill you. And your wish? It will NEVER bring Emilie back. You won't even be able to bring yourself to do it, because you'll realize that you've become everything that she hated and never wanted you to be. Emilie WILL STAY DEAD, and in the end, all you will be able to wish for is an end to your now-miserable life. All this gamble will win you is your grave."

idk I just don't think Gabriel's response to that would be "oh yay! I win!"

#honestly I'm a firm believer in Gabriel's win condition being ''Emilie is revived''#if Emilie was revived in any capacity i would agree that he won. no matter what. even if she hated him even if he died #if emilie lives then gabriel wins #because that was his Only Goal #but emilie didn't live. so i dont know how this could be a win for him yknow?#the only 'positive' part of his wish was saving nathalie. but nathalie would never be dying in the first place if it werent for his actions #he won the battle in a sense on a purely technical level but he absolutely lost the war and achieved none of his goals #ml s5 spoilers #ml re-creation #re-creation spoilers #ml recreation #recreation spoilers

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 9 months

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hot in sarajevo i

[ part two ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of "y/n") / 4k words / NSFW

cw: assassination, dubcon (not really bc reader is into it and consents, but better safe than sorry bc ymmv), unsanitary conditions, rough sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, fingering, creampie, brief mention of burn injuries, pre-established relationship a.n.: no excuse for this, indulged a brain worm on my day off bc i wanted to write something nasty. enjoy!

It’s been a blistering, miserable six hours out in the hills outside Sarajevo proper. The height of summer, surrounded by dead-brown grass blown about sadly in the weak breeze. You cook in your ghillie suit, knowing it could very well be another six hours under this heat with zero shade, just waiting on your target. Sweating. Searching. Souring.

König is your spotter, and he’s already not pleased with the fact. He’d much rather be the one wrapped around the Steyr HS .50, instead relegated to the seemingly miserable role of binocular jockey. But the fact is, he’s better at recon, and you can stay planted in one place without moving even when your lower body burns with numbness.

“I’m hard,” he announces in his way—no preamble, no fanfare, moderate expectation.

“Christ,” you snort, pulling away from the scope only enough to throw a glance at him. He’s still pressed against the oculars, jaw working on sunflower seeds because they can’t smoke without setting the tinderbox field around them on fire. Otherwise, you can barely see the shape of him in his own ghillie suit among the grass. “Clench your legs and your torso, or hump the fucking dirt.”

“Not going to get the job done,” he laughs darkly, dumping back another mouthful of seeds. You can hear them crack between his molars as he bites down hard.

He’s going to be a fucking handful after this.

Going back to your scope, watching the highway, you promise him, “If you’re good helping me with this assassination, we can play when we’re done.”

Another hard bite, another gravelly laugh. Sing-song, he warns you, “Better hope he drives by so-oooh-oon, Schatzi.”

“Always nice to get a visit from mean-König,” you hum back, trying for unaffected, even as your cunt floods and clenches around nothing.

It’s just hitting golden hour when the target finally deigns to bomb past your scope in a civilian vehicle trussed up in subtle armor. You and König slot right into the predator drift, bodies left behind to fall into the hunt. Working like extensions of one body, he confirms a PID, and throws calculations your way, sharp and sleek, and your blood turns into straight adrenaline, pupils dilated to pitch black.

You work like the sword of god, lining up your crosshairs, allowing for lead, allowing for wind and elevation, and when you exhale and give the trigger what it wants, the sky cracks in half with a sonic boom, big gun bucking brutal against your shoulder. With one shot you take out the target and driver, vehicle careening off the road.

König’s low, restrained laugh blends into yours, your teeth chattering under your face covering. Two more shots cut the blood-and-gold colored sky, killing the remaining passengers, and something vile in you shrieks with delight when one of them staggers around without a head a few steps before falling backwards stiff as a board.

Your eyes catch his as you throw the safety, pulling the massive rifle into your arms to flee the scene, and he looks blood-poisoned with arousal. The normal blue-gray of his eyes are gone, sore, unblinking pink sclera around inkwell pools of black. His back heaves with his breathing, body rigid and clenched, hips grinding against the ground. He is going to fucking tear you apart and eat the pieces. Saturn Devouring His Son, König Devouring His Lover.

Without a word, you both force your bodies around in the tall, dead grass, ghillie suits blending your belly-drag crawl to the treeline.

There’s a five mile hike between your abandoned perch and the exfil vehicle, following back the steps you took this morning, with a staging site in the middle of it. Small clearing, deep enough that no one could stumble across it, a temporary home for your rifle’s case and minimal necessary equipment.

The moment you’re both upright in the treeline, König’s got a vicious hand under your camo, gripping your belt, dragging you close and up, forcing you on unbalanced tiptoes. “You’re going to fucking give it to me,” he demands.

You turn it around, snatching a hand under his hood, gun sagging in your arms. Your fist wraps around the jaw strap of his helmet, knuckles pressing into his jugular–his pulse is fucking racing, booming, screaming through his veins–and your teeth are shards of glass as you command him, “Fucking heel. You’re not being a good boy.”

That makes him pant, almost reeling, eyes blinking out of sorts, pulling you closer, almost against him.

“That is not how it’s going to work today,” he says, slow and damning. Turns your blood into lava, thick and slow and lethal pumping through your heart as it fights for its life. He pulls the rifle from your hand, and it weighs nothing to him. Nearly looks like he’s got more to say, and he’s trying to figure out how to word it, but his brain is too clouded with lust to put it in the right order.

Hefts the gun over his shoulder like a bat, and shoves you back by the pelvis, releasing you. Time to go, the moves say, leaving you no dignified way to hold onto the authority that’s slipped through your fingers.

You know he’s burning frustration, anger, and resentment as fuel for this mood. You were the designated sniper, he was a lowly spotter. In his mind, that position belonged to him, and you took it. It didn’t matter that you were the superior choice, that he was invaluable to the kill.

No. Not at all. You stole from him, and he’s taking something in return.

If you weren’t thinking solely with your pussy, you would admit that it would probably be wise to exercise caution with him at the moment. But you’re not. You’re going to get your brains fucked out and painted on a tree.

At the staging area, scant gold light is cutting through the trees as the sun lumbers its way to setting, and the woods are humid and dense. Your boots crush fallen beech nut pods and pine needles. Could almost be Thoreauvian, if there was a lake, or not a gun big enough to kill god in the arms of a sexually frustrated Austrian maniac.

König is fast and quiet, ripping the mag out of the gun, emptying the chamber, dropping the gun on its case. You’d seen him piece apart a pistol to base components in ten seconds many times, he’s making himself take time with the rifle, leaving it barely touched.

You’ve got enough time to just prepare for him to grab you around the middle so you aren’t thrown off balance, leaning into his momentum as he hauls you to an enormous beech tree, his back sliding down the trunk. Keeps you pinned in his lap, laughing harsh and ugly as you deal with your belt, button, and zipper, “Good girl–good fucking girl. Know what I’m going for.”

“You’re easy to predict,” you bullshit him with a sharp edge. He’s going to get his way, and you’re going to deliver unto him whatever the fuck he pleases, but you’re going to keep your teeth through it. “Could’ve taken the suits off, could’ve really given you a show.”

“Cute that you think I’m in a rush. You’re in the suit on purpose,” he grates, thrusting against your ass, forcing you open with your legs over his knees. “Keep being mouthy. Only fucks me up worse.”

“Stiff breeze gets you fucked up,” you snort, but when he hooks his gloved thumb in your zipper, you lift your hips to help him pull your pants down your thighs. Leaves you exposed, drenched in sweat, and wet in his lap. “Goddamned freak.”

He bypasses the true and mutually reflective accusation completely, grinding the forehead of his helmet against the back of yours. Still looking for affectionate closeness, even when he’s out for blood. “Can smell you, good god,” he growls, sliding his huge hand into your underwear, grabbing your sex in ownership. “You and the military issue drawers–typical. Been a while since I fucked you in gear. Still wearing the boxers because you wish you were hanging dick, or is it just to match the attitude?”

“Commissary ran out of crotchless combat thongs. Waiting on a restock.” The rough fabric of his gloved middle finger splits your lips, teasing your hole, and for a flashfire second you think he’d better not give you a UTI with those dirty fucking things, before it burns straight out of your head.

“Better luck next time,” he taunts, jaw tight. You can hear the wolf-fanged smirk in his tone. “Start going commando. Make it easier.”

“Maybe there isn’t a next time,” you volley back, “best you make the most of this.”

“There’s always a next time. No one else could fuck you like me. Little whore you are, you’d get bored.”

He blots all the thought out in your head, adding his ring finger to the mix, pushing both huge digits into your starving cunt. Rips a bark right out of you, arching off his chest and pushing against his hips for leverage, trying automatically to fuck down on them even as the pain of the fabric feels like it’s rasping your insides. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you gasp, going hot-cold-and-blind all at once, nipples pulling tight under your gear.

He throws a heavy arm around your stomach, pulling you back down, merciful or mindful enough to know he needs to go slow, or this isn’t going to go anywhere except the infirmary. “Take it, Liebes, swallow them down with that pretty cunt,” he commands, his English as sharp and scraping as scythe blades felling harvest in wide, practiced strokes, “I’m not even close to done.”

You can already feel his fat cock straining against his pants, even through all the layers between you, and you rut back against it, at least trying to get some torture of your own added in. That just makes him stupid and animalistic, pushing his chin over your shoulder, trying to butt into your jaw. He wants to bite your lips, but there are too many impediments blocking the way.

His fingers squelch down to the last knuckle, your pussy spasming around them, soaking the fabric. He’s a pervert to such a degree that you know he’s going to leave them unwashed, and he’s going to wear and suck on them while he beats off when you’re not there until there’s no flavor left.

For now, he’s slow, rocking them into you in a curve, his sense of touch dampened as he searches out your g-spot. The exploration makes you feel filthy, and just a little humiliated. Used. Faceless and disrespected. It’s so opposed to his usual dogmatic worship, fresh and frightening.

He gives a little something extra, grinding the heel of his hand over your clit, telling you to use it. You do, finally feeling something physically pleasurable, even though it’s too dull and not nearly enough.

König is segmented; you’ve known that for as long as you’ve known him. Don’t know if he did it to himself, or if it was an after-affect of all the bad shit he didn’t die from. He’d let you in on enough to know that his best days are numb neutrality and boredom intercut with adrenalized high-chasing. His worst days are lost dogs and veils of blood floating through his mouth.

He almost clicks over from one facet to another when you push against his arm, hissing through your teeth as a stitch on his glove catches a fold in you. For a microsecond, lover-König surfaces, shifting you around against his body, repositioning his fingers so you aren’t hurting too badly, and then he’s gone again.

With a rough hand, he shoves the tan boxer-briefs down your thighs, and bucks your ass off his pelvis, going to release his cock.

You push your shoulders back against his chest, plate carrier digging into your shoulderblades. “Only two fingers, aren’t you acting like a fucking prince today.”

“You’re lucky you got that much,” he snaps back, groaning when his cock springs free of his trappings, and he strokes it beneath you. Monster fucking thing it is, long enough you can see the swollen, leaking head between your legs, even as you’re still hovering. There’s no give in the skin, and the head is a needy red with arousal, completely slipped from his foreskin. “Put it in.”

You ignore his order, writhing against him, your discomfort only ramping up your arousal. It’s nightmarish how badly you actually want his cock fed into you, desperate to have anything to fill the void his fingers left in you, and, shit, it would be so much sweeter and smoother than the gloves. Hot and throbbing, his precum mixing with your slick–it’s going to be so loud.

“It’s your dick, you figure it out,” you hiss, wrestling your shoulders up just enough to piss him off. His other arm moves up to your ribs, slamming you back down against him.

“Nein,” he seethes, as close to your throat as he can get, and you hear him suck back spit. Wonder if you busted his lip on the way down. Trained himself too hard not to do that otherwise, because of the harelip he’s hiding under the hood. “I said put it in, Schatzi.”

His laugh is airier this time, when you cuss him and comply, thinned out with need. He shudders into you as you brush your fingers over the length–teasing bulging veins and hot, thin skin–trying to scoop him up. He squeezes you tighter, letting out a furnace-bellow breath, as you tease the head through your wet folds, stupid fly-by-night sex-trigonometry screeching through your head as you find the angle you both need to get him in. He drops his free hand on your thigh, pulling you further open, giving himself a handle to hold.

As soon as his big cockhead plugs your hole and seals a seal with the wet, you fly to grip both his wrists, nerves on high alert. For good cause, as well, because instantly, he starts fucking up into you with harsh thrusts, constricting all around you with bruising force.

The sheer mass of him is over-fucking-whelming, and white spots crackle in your vision as you pant, trying desperately to relax and accept him into your body. Usually–when he’s sweeter and taking his time with you, not punishing you for a perceived slight like he is now–he is slower, considerate, almost hesitant until you dig your spurs into his sides, demanding he cut loose.

This time he’s forcing you to ride him, emptying and filling you in deeper and deeper strokes, forcing you to take his cock. Somehow it still feels right, just being full of him, aching with it, pussy hungrily sucking him in, wanting more and more and more.

But, god dammit, you can’t just let him get away with this. You fuck back down against him, trying to meet his rhythm with the little movement he affords your bound body, the sound of his boots grinding for purchase in the substrate, your combined dead-sprint breathing, and his balls slapping wet against your ass breaking the utter still-life quiet of the woods.

“Insertion specialist,” you bite, throwing your head back against his shoulder to belt out your whimpering laughter, and, oh, that burns him.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his helpless thrusting turning focused, dragging you down in hard thrusts, hitting your cervix with every deep, powerful stroke. It knocks the wind out of you, and you’re left speechless, probably what he wanted.

It puts you in a trance state, your eyes unfocused looking up at the canopy as he uses you. A wet, liquid-gold heat starts building pressure behind your pelvis, and a frantic harebrained thought tells you that you have to piss. It only gets worse when he drops his hand back between your legs, putting a finger on either side of your clit, his intent clear.

“Wait,” you wheeze, barely surfacing the trance, rolling your eyes wildly toward him, finding his focus is between your legs. “Wait, König, I–”

“Just fucking take it,” he cuts you off, and it’s not entirely cruel. He’s forcing an orgasm on you, maybe the thought crawled up out of the part of his heart where his empathy lives, the part he hides until his real-boy-skin-suit has fallen away in tatters. You know what’s underneath. You love him for what he is.

You squirt when you come, pouring down his cock, soaking your thighs. Your cunt tries to push him out, but he belligerently stays buried, riding it out with you, and he whimpers as you spasm and ripple around him, biting your shoulder through his mask and the gaiter beneath it. It’s a dull pressure, and you wish it was sharper.

“Oh my god,” you keen, trying to turn and hide your face, trying to draw your legs back together as wave after wave of pleasure rock your body, your stomach turning in benign shame. König praises you, “Good, good, good, good,” his words falling away into a German blur that you have a hard time translating.

“Arch your back, curl up,” he tells you in his native language, his command voice withering, getting lost as he gets closer. He’s gotten fatter in your swollen cunt, and he throbs against your walls. His balls are pulled up so tight, you can feel them against your lips on the upstroke.

All you can do is listen, lifting off of him and curving like you’re living through an exorcism.

Doesn’t that make him lose his goddamned mind. Moans like a shocked virgin getting his first piece of pussy, in tandem with the cry you release, sliding in at a new angle. He can’t even help himself, he’s just stupid with pleasure, chasing it. All the bite and venom he had floods out of him, and he’s just a panting, greedy, whimpering mess, holding on to you because he needs an anchor, because he needs you.

He pushes up onto the balls of his feet, leaving the tree completely, forcing you back against him in the cage of his body. Your legs slide open over his thighs, and you’re dependent on him to keep from falling face-first in the forest floor and eating shit. He keeps you up, clutching to you, fucking you with short, fast thrusts, the soaking wet sounds of his cock demanding everything your cunt can deliver obscene, carnal.

Your idiot hand grabs for his hood as it hangs over your shoulder, spilling dumb swears and nonsense, “Fuck–oh, fucking–god dammit, König, you’re. I can’t,” that he meets with simple begging, “Bitte, bitte, Schatzi, bitte, Ich brauche, bitte, Ich brauche–”

His form staggers, and he takes a knee, locking up tight, letting out a thin, high-pitched cry of shock as he cums, flooding you completely in big jets. The pressure is uncomfortable and delirious, but you try to tighten around him, hold as much as you can.

Both of your heads ring in the immediate aftermath. You can suddenly tell that both of you reek, the scent of twelve-hours worth of stakeout body odor mixing with musk, sex, and cum. You can tell by how his mouth sounds as he pants and tries to collect himself and work through his intense but inescapable post-nut shame that he’s dehydrated. You are, too, your head pounding. And, just because you know him, and you know how you work as a team, you don’t need to look at either of set of your shaking hands to know both of your blood sugar is utterly fucked.

Slowly, he lumbers back up against the tree, his touch turning softer. You flop back against him, winching when his cock slips out of you, hanging glistening and messy between his legs. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breathing. His arms come up again–not to pin you in place, but to hug and hold you. You pat the scant sliver of bare skin between his gloves and the cuff of the ghillie suit.

Only occurs to you right now how stupid you two must’ve looked. Like a monkey fucking a football. Or maybe two bushes getting battered around in a storm. You snort a weary laugh, and he shakes his head, nosing deeper. He’s asking for quiet. You give it, letting your eyes slip closed as his cum drips out of you.

A few minutes later, he stirs, kneading your sides with his fingers. Mean-König has fucked off, you can already tell. It’s not KorTac-König, either, the one that’s nasty and loud and abrasive. This is just König. The slice of him that you know the first and last name of. The one that takes you on dates, and to go grocery shopping at Lidl–who lets you kiss his harelipped mouth, who lets you moisturize and massage the gummy wads of keloid burn scars eating up the left side of his face and neck, from when he was burnt by boiling sugar as a child, when they feel tight and miserable.

For convenience, and knowing you’re both going to seek it out, you unclip your helmet straps, letting them tumble off your heads. Further, you reach back and pull the hood off over his head, dropping it over your thigh, and pull your mask down as he pulls down his gaiter.

He helps you shift enough that you’re lying on your side over him, wet, soft cock pressing into your naked thigh. He sighs when you kiss him, light, quick, over and over, never really leaving his lips. He’ll be needy for the rest of the night.

His pupils are slowly going back down to a normal size, and the blue is coming back, all puppy-eyed and wet as he presses your foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun.”

“I shouldn’t have been that rough. Or mean.”

You shrug. “You know I thought it was hot.” You give him simple facts, easy to chew and swallow while his teeth are hurting from his harshness. You think he’d probably ask you to pull them so he couldn’t do something like it again in the future, but that is simply not in his nature. Fanged, or not, his moods will come and go.

His hands tremble, going to his thighs, and he digs up a zippo and a pack of cigarettes, pressing them into you. “Could you light some for us, please.”

You do, giving him another kiss before you break to try to attend your given task. He helps stabilize your hands, and you end up with lit menthols, popping one between his lips. He inhales deeply, shuddering as he relaxes a physical notch.

You heavily pet his face, traveling his bone structure, and then down his neck. Start to focus on his chest and shoulders, because it will help him down the easiest. Even though he took charge today, you still readily slot into the process of leading aftercare, truncated as it is by being in the field. Almost literally.

“Think you’ll be up for more later?” you ask, digging your fingers into the spot behind his ear that always makes him lax. “Safehouse would let us take our time.”

He makes a grumbling noise, touching your noses together. “Want to love you. Not fuck.”

“Yeah, no. I couldn’t take another fuck tonight,” you snort in agreement, and, finally, he snorts back. “We need to get moving. Sun’s going down, and we need to report.”

He gathers you up for a final, lingering, sloppy kiss before he unwinds from you, knowing that you’re right. And, besides, there’s a safehouse looming on the horizon.

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work #ngl i just wrote my oc in second person pov so like sorry but honestly not that sorry lmfao everyone still gets to eat #but there's no use of names or nationality markers it reads pure reader

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qcoded · 5 months

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Puppet! Belos design I made :P Been meaning to make it for a while now, and??? honestly I'm 50/50 about this lol

Anyways!!! Since this is technically and AU design, Little context for it :P

Belos, instead of being completely in his monster form, was in a weird mix between that and his human form. In the sense that he didn't look quite human considering the fact he had green horns, and goopy ass limbs.

One of The Collector's star minions managed to find him and turn him into a puppet, but for a plot reason I will figure out LATER, he managed to become sorta like Raine in the sense he's fully conscious and in control of his body.

So he gets sent to The Archive House, and ofc Collector quickly figures out Belos is here. Instead of attempting to gaslight the kid, Belos passes himself off as a 'friendlier' version of himself. And just like he did as Raine, he explained that because of the friendship of magic (or whatever tf he said) allowed him to come to life.

Collector was just happy that Belos was atleast nice to him and willing to be his friends, so now the dude's just dragged around as his personal caretaker 😭

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razberrypuck · 5 months

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okay but as horrifying as that was to experience its good to know I was right on the money with finn and his sex books. being on the surface was literally the first time in his 150 years of life that he had the chance to explore himself and his romantic/sexual preferences without consequence. for 150 years he was forced to abide by the undersea's VERY STRICT laws by punishment of death. but he can't get in trouble for any undersea laws he violates on the surface -- and even if the oversea had those same laws (they don't) who gives a shit? finn's already a pirate! he breaks the law every day! of course he'd take that opportunity, to FINALLY understand more about himself. to FINALLY understand why he's felt the way he has for so long. of course he would.

#its nice honestly. to see that he was able to accept that part of himself.#he was always Weird by undersea standards #but i bet it was difficult even for /him/ to work through all that; after living in that environment for so long #im glad he got through it. im glad he became that much happier.#shame that his aroace prude traditionalist grandson has to read 30 chapters of old man yaoi for a /purely/ mechanical buff though.#jrwi riptide #jrwi #just roll with it #jrwi ep 113 #finn tidestrider #jrwi finn #jrwi spoilers #<- technically

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andthendk · 1 year

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Re-draw of my favorite comic panel of Raven! (a version of her that is often forgotten by the goth tinted glass) NTT White Raven is bae💕

Tell me she isn’t a Disney princess. I mean, look at her✨?

-magic hands?✔️

-talking to animals? ✔️

-cursed, kidnapped, or enslaved?✔️

-daddy issues?✔️

-true love’s kiss?✔️

#raven #rachel roth #teen titans #dc #my art #fanart #dc comics #ntt raven #new teen titans #honestly it’s one of those things #I swore I’d draw one day #and bam I had the time #I like snakes too so this is a plus #disney princess material #PURE CINNAMON BUN THAT NEEDS PROTECC

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revenge-of-the-shit · 8 months

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I think Padme's character deserved to become unhinged and go absolutely batshit, as a treat. I want a scene where she's confronted by someone else - one of her handmaidens, Riyo Chuchi, Bail Organa, Captain Typho, someone - about how her love for Anakin has shown that she is outright compromising her morals, and how what she has isn't what it seems, and she just loses it, she demands, Why can't I have this one thing for myself, just once? I've given everything for Naboo!, and indeed she has - she lost her childhood, her chance to be a kid and then a teenager, she lost her safety and parts of her personhood in pursuit of making her planet better, and she just wants the illusion of this ONE thing, just this one thing

#padme amidala critical #i guess #like I LOOOVE her character and I honestly think this would've been so interesting #to explore how she is very very willing to compromise her goals and ethics to be with Anakin #for this illusion of love and this one thing that she's 'giving herself'#and I want it to be understood that yes her trauma did fuck her up! she is fucked up!#but also she is not innocent! she is so not the pure image that fanon wants her to be

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quibbs126 · 2 months

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It’d be funny if Pure Vanilla and White Lily decide to take care of this kid and basically adopt them, and then they come back to Crispia and meet back with the other Ancients, and then they’re like “so not only did you bring back White Lily, but you two had a kid?!”

#like the Ancients only have the context of White Lily’s back there’s a kid now and the two liked each other #so this is the only logical conclusion #but honestly I hope the two of them adopt this kid #it’d be cute #also the kids should not be attempting to be parents #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #ancient cookies #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie #random stuff

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ywpd-translations · 2 months

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Ride 764: Dearest wish

Pag 1

1: The one thing the third year Onoda Sakamichi desires is....?

Pag 2

3: His dearest wish!!

4: Right!!

Pag 3

1: That's definitely Onoda's dearest wish

Pag 4

2: Do your beest

They're so fast!

They move the wind

The jerseys are so brightly colored

3: No no no no

4: That- that's not it

That's not-

Is Sohoku arguing over something!?

Pag 5

1: That- that was just the spur of the moment

I ended up just saying anything

2: That's not my dearest wish at all....

So- uhm

3: Please forget about it, everyone!!

4: No way!!

Yeah

Teh!!

Yep

Yeah

Pag 6

1: That must be our goal this year!! Our third victory in a row!!

Pag 7

1: Yessir!!

On!!

Yeah!!

2: The three day long stage is harsh and long, that's why everyone's strengths will be necessary!!

Yessir!!

3: If we can all unite our strengths and support each other as one...

4: The I'll be able to win brilliantly!! Yeah!!

Just like I did during the prefectural qualification!!

Ohhhh

Tch

Pag 8

1: I'll sprint desperately, Hotshot-san will accompany me, and I'll do a grand finishing dash, just like that day!!

Okay!! You've been saying it over and over again!!

2: You're really a guy who clings to the glory of the past

The prefectural qualification is connected to the Inter High, it's not in the past!!

You're the type of guy I hate the most when you get carried away

Naruko-san was amazing, teh!!

That day, yeah!!

Naruko-san!!

3: Sto-stop iit, you were both amazing that day

4: Come oon... we're in the middle of an important meeting

6: Now that I think about it

Onoda-san's....

7: This is all

Pag 9

1: Can I say one last thing?

2: I also think our goal must be a third consecutive victory

3: There's just one thing I'm curious about we still haven't asked

Onoda-san

5: What's your goal this year?

What are you running in the Inter High for?

6: When I asked you this last year during the first years' race

Pag 10

1: I want to report it

2: You said you wanted to report the victory to your senpai

3: And you

4: Accomplished that

5: Honestly, when I first heard that I thought “what is he talking about, that's such a small goal”

But that day, after the race, when I saw Onoda-san doing it

6: I was shaking

I thought from the bottom of my heart that it was amazing

Pag 11

1: I thought you were super cool

5: Wh- no no

That- I was just reporting, there's nothing cool about it at all, okay

Pag 12

1: So I want to know what your goal is this year

Please tell us what you're thinking about!!

2: Is it “I want to report to that senpai once again”!?

4: Crowning your third victory in a row as the captain!?

6: Is it the mountain's bib!? Is it winning a stage!?

Please tell us... your goal during the race...

7: or maybe for when the race is over!!

8: A.....

9: No no no

It's nothing- yes, it's nothing!!

Pag 13

1: Onoda's goal....

2: I see, what Onoda-kun wants to do....

3: Now that I think about it....

4: What is it!? You started saying it now, “a”!!

Is it “running as an assist”!?

5: Does it mean you don't want to bear the last heavy burden!?

No no no no, that's fine, if the situation calls for it I'll do my best

6: That's enough, Issa

7: There are things Onoda-san doesn't want to say too

No, if it can become motivation for the team then he should say it

Pag 14

1: Onoda-san's goal!!

2: But still, Issa!!

I'm telling you, anything is fine!!

Ah, uhm...

3: It's a really personal thing, so.... don't get your hopes up...

But.... that's... always been.... my dearest wish...

4: Dearest wish!!

5: If we run with all we have in this Inter High.... putting together all of our strengths and deliver our jersey to the finish line

6: If we get the best result....

Pag 15

1: No no, I really can't say more than this

3: Say it, everything's fine. I'm curious too

4: Ah.... if we get the best results.... I....

5: I want to reserve a room somewhere...

6: A room?

8: Prepare teacakes

9: Cakes!?

10: Ask for everyone's cooperation...

Pag 16

1: Gather five people

5: It's something I've been imagining.... since before... entering school in my first year.....

7: Even just for one day

8: Even just a few hours after school

Everyone will bring what they like

9: A.....

Oi.... don't tell me you mean.... you

Pag 17

1: I'm thinking of reviving the anime research club!!

Pag 18

5: No way!!

Pag 19

1: And then, there

2: I think I could call Makishima-san, who likes figures

I feel like you've misunderstood something here

3: And Midosuji-kun who likes anime

Would you be able to hold a conversation with him!?

4: Isn't that good!! The best goal!!

5: You'll gather five people in no time!!

6: Kakaka mine will be the first name you write down

7: Amazing

From England and Kyoto....!!

Pag 20

1: I don't really get it, but somehow that fired me up!!

2: That's Onoda-san's dearest wish!!

3: Ah

4: N-no, it's really nothing much, so I take it back...

Revive the anime club!!

Let's do it, for Onoda-san!!

I don't really know what an anime club does, but I'm in!!

Me too!!

5: Yeeah!!

Let's do it!!

Issa, calm down

Pag 21

2: Your goal is to “revive the anime research club even for just day”?

Oi oi, that's such a small

3: but splendid goal!!

4: You managed to unite the club's intentions as one with such bizarre words!!

5: You're really are an unpredictable guy!!

The plate will soon become green

“Real start”.... the real race will start!!

#yowamushi pedal #yowamushi pedal translations #yowapeda #yowapeda manga #yowamushi pedal manga #yowamushi pedal spoilers #ride 764 ONODA YOU LITTLE WEABOO I LOVE YOU #im so stupid bc this was to be expected OF COURSE THATS HIS DEAREST WISH #but was i expecting it while reading this chapter? honestly no #i love it this manga will go full circle and im already a mess of emotions oh my god #onoda: i want to revive the anime club!!#me: *cries*#onoda could say literally ANYTHING and the other members would absolutely lose it #they get fired up for anything thats onoda-related #they dont even know what an anime club is but theyre excited!! as long as thats what makes onoda happy!!#kaburagi is annoying as usual (affectionate) but at least he got the right spirit saghsdfkasdgf #onoda wanting to invite makishima and midosuji too ahsdsadgad i cant see it ending well lmao #hes so pure i love him #pag 5 last panel is the best thing ever tbh #i love sohoku so much #best team in all sports manga ive ever read

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fluffypotatey · 2 years

Note

A Thought:

As Emrys, Merlin is a very powerful sorcerer.

However, his utter lack of any formal training means Merlin is not a very good sorcerer.

The magic he does should be theoretically impossible, but he's got enough raw fucking power to just make it work. Infant demigod smashing blocks together and creating a Lego Death Star.

Merlin: *does magic that Should Not Work*

Other sorcerers:

AND THEY ARE RIGHT TO FEEL UPSET

IMAGINE YOU'RE A SORCERER. YOU'VE BEEN PRACTICING YOUR CRAFT, SHOOTING THE SHIT, LAYING LOW, PLOTTING PLANNING.....THEN THIS FARMY BOY TWINK SHOWS UP AND NUKES THE FUCKING PRIESTESS OF THE LAKE OF AVALON

I'D FEEL PISSED TOO

like, bro, you meet him, you're apprehensive of him bc 'shit that's emrys'. the emrys. the dude that's said to be the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. you meet him. you can feel his magic and like holy shit, what the fuck was that??? you ask him how the fuck he gained so much power by the age of 21????

merlin: you mean....y'all don't also just have magic doing shit when you're a toddler

you, the sorcerer who has had to spend years getting control to fucking heat up a teapot: .........no.......no our magic doesn't do that

goddamn do you wanna just chuck this adult child into the lake and be done with it. better yet, you wish for the sprites to just pick you up and use your body as a sacrifice for entrance into Avalon.

and then, and then

you see how this motherfucker fights against bandits and "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU JUST PUSHING THEM AWAY??? WHERE'S THE SHOWMANSHIP??? THE PIZZAZZ??? HOW MANY SPELLS DO YOU KNOW???"

merlin, who forgot he can freeze time and space and can launch lightning bolts at people: uh....3???

it takes the triple goddess to restrain you from murking the prophesized warlock right then and there.

"NO, NO, FUCK THAT, FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL O' Y'ALL!" you scream as you jump on a ship and move to a place that doesn't have op young adult children who didn't study shit and yet still get an A+

#i could post this later.......but i won't so here we go #i am delirious it is......1:30 in the morning i should sleep and yet....here i sit #i hope this was enjoyable because this is the best fucking thing i've ever been granted the chance to read #headcanon fully accepted #this is canon #sorcerers hate merlin because he that's guy who always passes the class with flying colors but you know that bitch #sleeps during every lecture and never studied a day in his life #i know for a fact that gaius would have smacked merlin when they met but didn't bc this kiddo was too pure and sweet for this world #honestly a sorcerer who worked their ass off to be th best meeting s5 merlin who's tired & seen shit but only knows 7 spells #they would walk right out bc 'who tf does think think he is????' and merlin has had this interaction one too many time by then #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #headcanons #i want me screaming into the void at the witching hour to be my legacy

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