Now while obviously Saria and Kirsten’s relationship got most of the attention due to the manhua’s primary demographic of gay women in need of angst, that’s not to say Silence’s own relationship with Parvis isn’t equally delicious.
While Kirsten simply marches to the beat of her own drum and cares nothing about all the lives she tramples on while doing so, there’s such a deliberative quality to every single one of Parvis’ actions it really makes him feel like one of the most intimidating antagonists in Arknights, despite merely being an old geezer.
The way he attacks her self-confidence and exploits all of her anxieties without ever slipping off the mask of a gentle adviser gives him this insidious air that not even Kaschey really matches. This is especially seen with how quickly he studies Saria and Silence’s relationship and figures out how to cut Silence off from Saria without lifting a finger, expertly incepting distrust for Saria into Silence’s mind and allowing Silence’s own fears to do the rest of the work.
Even in the epilogue all of his dialogue is meant to manipulate Silence in some way. To rebuild her shattered ego by reminding her that she was and still is his brightest student, to rebuild her trust in him by signing a proposal allowing her to leave Rhine and take Ifrit wherever she wishes to go, and to rebuild her belief that Rhine is the only true home she will ever have.
Of course, Parvis still doesn’t understand the most critical piece of Silence’s psychology: she loves Ifrit far more than herself, her work, or any lab, and Parvis can do nothing to make Silence forget that he hurt her little girl.
Chaos Daemons. They have the most aggressive volleyball players, the most enthusiastic lifeguards, they can pull off the widest variety of swimwear, and they can hang out at beaches with pH conditions that would vaporise a mortal.
That said, if the Tyranids started optimising bioforms for things like bikini-wearing, the ramifications for both the setting and the fanbase would be unprecedentedly powerful.
my favorite thing about the moomins is that their domestic cottagecore aesthetic is basically just a cover for the fact that they’re actually like 2 degrees of separation from going full feral at any one time and literally everyone knows it
Red Guardian must be slightly disconcerting for Cap to run into because they swap out really fast and you can never quite be sure how much of an asshole the one you’re talking to is.
Still a better turnover rate than the Crimson Dynamo
I don’t think anyone whose worn that armor has lived more than a year or two O.O
I would personally guess that Crimson Dynamo has a slightly better track record of not being an asshole compared to Red Guardian but I don’t have any math to back that up
I know at least three of the Crimson Dynamo’s wound up being decent people and one was more of a Punch Clock Villain :D
Punch Clock Villains are my favorite kind. Sometimes being a hero just doesn’t pay the bills!
Ohhhh for the prompts what about exhausted Franka and (somehow) still awake Liskarm
“Franka.” Her partner’s voice is low, not nearly half as brusque as usual. “Can you drink?”
Franka lifts her head to find herself laid on her bed and a bottle of water held out for her; she hums an answer before sipping slowly. Liskarm tilts it carefully for her, and no drop spills when Franka pulls away. “Gonna to be feelin’ all that for days,” Franka mumbles, nuzzling down into the blanket, if only to wipe the sweat from her face.
“I’ll get you stuff for the soreness,” Liskarm promises, setting the cup on the small table nearby.
She starts to pull at the leather straps around her hips, but Franka’s hand comes up to stop her with a speed at odds with the dreamy haze over her eyes still. “Leave it. You look good in it.”
“…Hf, alright.” She lets go of the harness, and circles around the bed to come lie down with her, opening her arms when Franka turns to allow her to wiggle into her embrace. She brushes down Franka’s back, keeping her touch light as her palm passes over the welts left behind, and she’s rewarded with a shiver and content sigh. “It’s only like this when you ask for anything straight.”
“Scarcity makes sweet,” Franka sniffs, “Now gimme my cuddles.”
“Yes, yes.” She kisses her forehead, lets her fingers wind through strands. “As you demand.”
I’d feel remiss if I didn’t link this and this art of torihamu’s, because they are what comes to mind for me.
-
These are quiet moments—if only because the last time Franka pulled a prank during a brushing session, Liskarm refused to brush her tail out for a month.
And Franka could prioritise, alright?
So it’s quiet time between them, Franka looking for chips and things stuck between Liskarm’s scales, and Liskarm returning the favour with meticulous brushing and application of oils.
There’s no hiding the pleased curl of their tails when they examine them.
Anonymous
