When I say durgetash rewires your brain, I mean like...
Okay, I know it didn't go this way for everyone, but it's a pattern I've seen repeated a lot, where when your first playthrough is with a Tav, you either hate Gortash or are apathetic towards him. (I was in the latter camp. Didn't hate him but thought he was meh as a villain and a boss fight, especially when Ketheric got so much development. Definitely did not find him attractive.)
Then you make a Durge, and you start catching wind that people ship them with Gortash, and you're like "huh? That guy? I don't get it, but to each their own," no skin off your nose.
Then you realize who wrote The Prayer, and you go to the coronation without Karlach, and Gortash is making eyes at you, and then you kinda start to think, "okay, I guess I can KINDA see it."
and then you start looking at Gortash from durge's perspective and paying more attention to everything written about him, and suddenly you think he's maybe not such a lacklustre villain, and hey from that angle he's looking kinda......
and then if you're lucky, you get That Line about always liking him too and there's hesitation in his eyes as he thinks of all the time spent together you'll never remember and IS THAT WHAT YOU--
and then you suddenly need that shit injected into your VEINS because it's all you can think about so you start writing fanfiction again after an 18 year dry spell, your creativity is at an all time high and holy shit gortash is hot??
idk I just personally think that getting chills from music is the best part of being alive. like when a song is so good you can feel it in your whole body. that's why I'm here.
Pairing— Luis Serra x Leon Kennedy (Resident Evil)
CWs— None
“I am telling you, amigo,” Luis pants, bent over with his hands on his knees. “My talents… they are not for this.” He gestures vaguely at the open field. “This sweaty, horrible thing.”
“It’s self-defense, Luis. You need this.”
“I need a massage and a cigarette.”
Leon tosses a jab at him—slow, telegraphed. Luis still flinches like it’s a bullet. “God. Okay, no. Stop. Put your hands up.”
“They are up.”
“That’s your hips.”
“They are connected!”
Leon scrubs a hand down his face, pacing like a man reconsidering every life decision that brought him here. “Okay, try again. Left foot forward. Right hand guarding. Elbow in, not flopping around like a drunken chicken.”
Luis squints. “Drunken pollo?”
“Yes. Fight like you’re not one.”
Luis grumbles in Spanish under his breath—something about American pigs and how this would never happen if he were allowed to bring a gun—and half-heartedly tries to mimic Leon’s stance again.
Leon circles him slowly, correcting his posture with a hand at his back and another at his wrist. “You have to be tighter. Compact.”
“Oh?” Luis smirks sideways. “You like it tight, eh?”
Leon doesn’t blush, but his grip falters just enough for Luis to notice.
“I will take that as a sí,” Luis says, far too pleased.
“You’ll take that as a shut up and focus.”
Leon throws another slow punch. This time Luis tries to block. It sort of works, if you define “works” as “he doesn’t fall immediately.”
He does, however, spin completely around, trips over his own foot, and lands on his ass in a puff of dust.
“…I almost had it,” he mutters.
Leon crosses his arms, looking down at him with the patience of a man forced to babysit a particularly sassy raccoon.
“You are too fast,” Luis complains, flopping backward into the grass. “Your arms, they are like… octopus. No. Octopuses? Octopi.”
“I swear to God—”
“Like this—” Luis flails his arms like a man who’s never seen a fight or an octopus. “Whap whap whap! And then I am dead.”
Leon kneels beside him, grabbing his wrist again. “You’re not dead. You’re lazy. There’s a difference.”
Luis winks. “I am efficient. Why punch when I can talk them down? Or talk them into bed.”
“You can’t flirt your way out of a knife fight, Luis.”
“Ahh,” he grins, tapping Leon’s chest. “But can I flirt during it?”
Leon stares at him. “…Are you hitting on me right now?”
Luis shrugs innocently. “Maybe I like a man who throws me around a little.”
Leon pulls him back to his feet with a single tug. “You’re impossible.”
“But pretty, no?”
Leon mutters, “Unbelievable,” but he doesn’t let go of Luis’ hand right away.
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