#Logistics Edition

[kkoct-ik]

keep your head on straight

[moonlitfalls]

prom is right around the corner ✨

[applestorms]

this is a very anti-early anime thing for me to say, but i actually really appreciate that demons are the most inherently Supernatural entities (well. entity.) in all of black butler.

it seems fitting that, at around the same time it's revealed that the werewolves of the forest were all a lie cooked up by a very human government agency, the backstory for all shinigami is also revealed-- specifically, that they were also all human once, transformed after death as punishment for their own acts of suicide.

paired with the fact that angels are an anime-only concept, as well as the fact that undertaker's bizarre dolls are essentially just soulless humans, the origin of every supposedly "supernatural" entity in black butler is therefore deeply rooted in humanity.

(also this, for more about how undertaker is decaying souls:)

this has interesting implications when it comes to the question of what sebastian even fucking is as the singular Demon of the series, an inherently difficult question to even begin to answer considering the following complications:

1. sebastian is the only (real, canon) demon in the entire series. sorry, claude, but if we're to follow manga canon we can only really rely on sebastian as our sole source of True information about demons-- assuming we can trust what he says about himself at all. he may be ordered not to lie, but if o!ciel never asks questions, we may truly never know.

2. by nature of the plot of kuro itself, it's to the benefit of the story if we never really know the extent of what sebastian is capable of. iirc, yana has directly stated in interview(s) before that she will never get into detail about sebastian's backstory, which makes sense, considering how much of his Mysterious Allure and Power relies on him being a mostly unknowable entity. even his true form is more amalgamation-shadow-tentacle weirdness than a singular Entity:

3. it is incredibly difficult, if not straight up impossible, to tell who sebastian genuinely Is as Himself, versus who he is in the eyes of others. frankly, you could even argue that there is no genuine entity known as sebastian outside of the expectations that others push upon him.

this is most obvious throughout his relationship and interactions with ciel, as he explicitly states near the end of EWA:

--not entirely denying that he is capable of acting like a "beast," but clearly his standards and current goals are pushing him towards something much more restrained at the current moment.

what's really interesting about this though is the fact that sebastian doesn't just act like this with ciel, in such a way that reflects the specific expectations put upon him-- he does this with william in the circus arc too, only making the move to seduce beast after will essentially calls him a seductress luring his prey into the darkness:

(and then, like five pages later:)

frankly, you could maybe even make the argument that sebastian being summoned as a “devil” at all is a result of the expectations placed upon him by the cult itself, that they kind of manifested him in his current demonic form by calling upon a demon-like entity through their child abuse rituals and sacrifice.

honestly, i'm of the opinion that there are only a few things we can truly trust when it comes to properly sebastian:

that he really really really wants to eat o!ciel.

that he is generally unreliable and cannot be trusted (o!ciel's words, at the end of EWA).

that he genuinely likes being a butler, or at the very least the game he gets to play with o!ciel in the process of taking on such a role. this is what the circus arc most clearly establishes, as well as the LLA flashback when undertaker gets into his memories.

sidenote, with regards to that last point: is it also not insanely weird that sebastian has a cinematic record of his own? like it makes sense that he has memories, and undertaker's experiments make it clear that memories are separate from souls so it's not like that confirms sebastian to have a soul of his own or anything, but still. shit's weird.

a part of me also still wonders what Exactly the reapers are cutting through when they attack him with their scythes also-- while he can clearly morph his appearance into something more demonic at will (e.g. arthur at the end of the murder arc), he must still be somewhat substantially attached to his current human body if injuries to it by a death scythe can still fuck him up as badly as it does on the campania. sebastian is certainly not all-powerful, though he absolutely should not under any circumstances be underestimated when it comes to his scheming.

ANYWAYS. this is all to say that, for all that kuro takes from a wide range of cultures and mythologies when it comes to it’s more supernatural elements, ultimately it seems like most of these aspects are still quite deeply rooted in humans and humanity. this world revolves around people, at the end of the day, with human lives (and souls) as the basis upon which everything else acts and turns.

[undeaddudling]

I had a silly idea…

Plus a textless version, WIPs, and alternate layouts below!!

[kbsd]

eugene sledge & robert leckie // "station to station"

it's too late to be hateful the European canon is here

-> WATCH ON GOOGLE DRIVE

(i've been thinking about this video for a long time, but this gifset by meg @ww2yaoi really inspired me to finish it. i also drew a lot of inspiration and themes from where to begin by ama @warriorgays. thank you both!)

some content warnings under the cut:

i wanted this video to be a really comprehensive dive into both leckie’s and sledge’s arcs, which meant including the particularly horrible parts of the war: namely the dehumanization of japanese people, the way the marines used that dehumanization to justify their actions, and how it eroded their own humanity in turn. as such, i included a lot of elements of the show that i wouldn’t normally put into a video and that i don’t often see in visual fanworks, so i wanted to content warn accordingly. this video includes (in addition to the usual canon-typical violence and discussion of ptsd):

canon-typical racism including racial slurs, desecration of corpses, animal cruelty, frontal nudity, and suicide

[futuristichedge]

Sonic and Silver edits! (non color adjusted version of the 1st one under the cut)

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 1:

First 832 words out of a total 1773 and counting! I never expected this would turn out so long, but I’m not complaining. Aircraft sizes and possibly physics have been ignored to make this fic possible. Thank you for reading. This is my first time writing Transformers fanfics, so I’m kind of nervous. Laying out my heart to you guys here.

Note: “partner” in this context means they are working together as a pair, not a romantic partnership. I’m writing as if Starscream has entered an uneasy alliance with the Autobots in S2 but refuses to join them officially.

Part 2: here

——————————————————————————

“Okay, you can get in the water now.”

It was incredibly early in the morning, and the human had gotten up to drink some water only to see a somewhat dirtied up Starscream looking up at her through the window. The two were technically partners now, but they were still getting to know each other. It was a learning curve with Starscream, but he always seemed to respond well to positive feedback.

“Careful what you wish for, human.” Starscream had a suspiciously devious grin on his faceplate, and it only took a moment for his transformation sequence to finish and then the human was left with a full-size F-16 in her bathtub.

The vehicle mode somehow actually fit, with the landing gear deployed to hold it up just barely above the waterline. This meant she was going to have to do all the work herself, without any help from him.

“Seriously?”

Even without his face visible, she could practically feel that smartass smug look burning into her.

“Something wrong?”

“You know, if you’re gonna behave like a plane, I could always get the pressure washer.” She joked, the words accompanied by a smirk.

The rudder and ailerons moved suddenly in a slight panic, and the human could’ve sworn she even saw his wings themselves twitch, despite being in his altmode.

“THAT infernal device?? Do you take me for some kind of mindless, unfeeling Earth-plane you can just manhandle as you please?!”

His voice was filled with surprise, which over the course of his words gradually grew into offense.

She was trying to take him seriously. Really, she was. But there was an airplane. There was an airplane in the bathtub. And it was yelling at her. With a cracking voice. And it was five in the morning. The quiet must’ve felt uncomfortable to Starscream, because he chuckled nervously and spoke up again, this time sounding more concerned. He was using his kicked puppy voice, which he favored whenever he wanted to get out of something.

“You wouldn’t be so cruel… would you?”

“No…” she sighed. “No, of course not, I was only kidding.” The human smiled and rolled up her pant sleeves before doing anything else. She gave him a slight pat on the undercarriage, which elicited a “Hmph.” from the seeker.

“Alright, now how are we supposed to…” She tried, and failed, to bite back a yawn.

“I guess I could begin with the lower half of the fuselage… gear… engine intake…”

“I don’t care how you begin, just be quick about it! I can’t be sitting around here all day.”

She ignored the somewhat patronizing instruction, putting one leg over the side of the bathtub, and then the other. The human then reached behind him and grabbed a sponge, wetting it in the lukewarm water of the bath before pouring some soap on it. She moved a little closer, placing a hand on his nosewheel.

“Gonna clean the landing gear now. I’ll have to get all up in your wheel well.”

The reply came back uncharacteristically quiet.

“Alright.”

She stood up on the nosewheel, shower head in one hand while the other held onto the gear assembly. The human took her time, pouring warm water over the joints, the shock absorber, the steering system. The wheel wells, an area of the aircraft that were a mix between internal and external, made the differences between Starscream and a regular F-16 easy to spot. He was far more streamlined than his Earth-made counterpart, having little to no exposed cabling and appearing somewhat sleeker overall. He had several joints on the gear to allow better maneuverability on the ground, and it looked like he could even lower his fuselage closer to the ground if he wanted to. She repeated the process with his main wheels. The nosewheel’s well was relatively shallow, whereas she found the main wheels had enough room to almost be considered a crawl space. The human thought about these traits, trailing a hand over a thin line of blue light illuminating the area where the wheels would be stowed.

She didn’t know he had that until now, but it made seeing her way under the fuselage easier. Starscream occasionally shifted above her. He didn’t speak much, only commenting now and then on how long she was lingering, or that she was touching too much. She took notice that his tone of voice was not genuine. It did not convey the irritation Starscream usually made very clear that he was feeling. It was as if he was complaining out of obligation, as if he didn’t know how to feel about what he was experiencing. The feeling of being cleaned like this was…awkward, slightly uncomfortable, but not bad. Even after receiving a human partner of his own, he had never quite gotten used to something eerily squishy rooting around in his exposed parts.

The struts compressed without much resistance when the human pressed down on them, dipping the jet into the water.

[fishbloc]

how much will the grumbot bags cost? just wondering because i MUST save up for my boy

the estimate i have is 30USD! not including shipping

[texassbian]

misc arknights! probably not in chronological order LOL

[milkbreadtoast]

Jesse....🌷

[ulteri0rm0tives]

brain? rotting.

[saturngalore]

adéyẹmí

get my newest hairs here! <3

[honeyhotteok]

Hi! Can you pls write about when Jake was in jail with a reader who went to visit him all the time and was always by his side through those tough days?

took a minute for the ideas to marinate but i actually had an easier-ish time writing this even though i usually don't write stuff this long🤯 thank you for the sweet idea, anon, and for waiting a bit! <3

summary: jake's favorite person decides to wait for him.

--

"Inmate 0706. You have a visitor."

Jake walks into the tiny visitation room and plops himself down onto the chair, thinking to himself that it's probably Jerry again. His breath hitches when he sees that it's you entering and sitting down in front of him before the glass partition.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be in a place like this," he says with a half-hearted smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

You glare at him before springing up from your chair, brimming with fury. "Is that all you have to say to me? How could you hide a whole illegal gambling business from me?"

You had been holding down the fort at one of the shops on Big Deal street as usual, unsuspecting while exchanging quick goodbye kisses with Jake before he would leave the street to take care of some unknown business the past few months. To think he had been hiding something this wrong and to this degree from you, when you thought he believed the two of you were equals.

He closes his eyes, "it was for your own good-"

"Don't. Save it with the whole protecting me bullshit."

He opens his mouth to defend himself, but stops. Maybe you're right. Maybe he should just sit here and instead savor what could be the last time you argue with him. He waits for the other shoe to drop. This is it, he thinks. Inevitable, even. He did choose this life after all.

You sit back down after having gotten that bout of rage out of your system. "I just...wish you would let me in sometimes," you admit quietly.

Jake finally looks up at you, caught off guard by the shift in your tone and words. "Y/N..."

"Ugh, whatever. I'm leaving." You grab your jacket and stand. You pause at the door without turning your head. "See you next week," you mutter.

Before he can utter another word, he watches the door swing shut behind you.

-

"Visitor for Inmate 0706."

Jake begins making his way to the visitation room.

Jason and Brad had exchanged glances with each other throughout the week as Jake looked even more lost in thought than usual in the yard, the cafeteria, his cell - thinking about you. He heard you wrong last time, right? Were you actually coming back to visit him not just once but a second time? Yeah, no, it's gotta be Jerry this time.

To his disbelief, you're already sitting there behind the glass partition with your arms crossed.

You open this visit with another glare, albeit a less icy one. Despite still being here, you want to keep holding onto your rightful grudge and hurt so badly. But your eyes finally take in his short hair, the new scar on his mouth, the way the weight he's been carrying manifests in his eyes and body. And you find yourself unable to prevent the soft concern filling your eyes.

You let out a deep sigh.

"How's the food in there?" you finally break the silence.

Jake can't help but crack a smile at your concerned, trivial inquiry.

"It's...edible." The both of you laugh.

...

"Wait, what the hell is prison spicy chicken?"

After last being together in the outside world only a few weeks ago, the two of you begin to slip back into your usual rapport.

-

While the two of you still manage to chat it up and laugh together, there are still visits where you find yourself waiting to leave the room before you finally let your tears fall. Days where the ache of only getting weekly glimpses of him behind a layer of glass gets to you, peeks at the world of turmoil swirling in and around him that you find yourself helpless to truly solve.

The seasons pass, and it's getting these weekly looks of you that mark the passage of time for Jake. He looks forward to seeing what new change he can spot every visit - the haircut you usually get around the summertime, whether you had time to change out of your part-time job uniform before coming to visit.

And the weekly visits go like this. Although being separated from you does give him an extra reason to want to kill Gun - it's during these brief moments in time with you that he's reminded maybe there can be more to his life than revenge. The incessant physical training, the brutal fights every day in the prison all blur together in a black and white cut, but seeing you brings a little bit of color back into his life.

-

You stand outside of the detention center gates with the other heads of Big Deal, all of you anxiously trying to peer through the doors in the distance for any sign of Jake. He finally walks through the gates with Jason and Brad following behind. "Welcome back, Boss," mingled with big smiles and back pats amongst you. Jake finally stops in front of you, almost in a daze. He's seen your face every weekend for the past 11 months, but something about seeing your entire person standing before him feels like a pair of hands shaking him by the shoulders.

"Welcome back, you big idiot." You give him a light punch in the arm.

He pulls you into a warm embrace while cradling the back of your head, "I missed you, too."

"Hey Boss, the rest of Big Deal are looking forward to-" Lineman's cheerful words immediately get cut off by consecutive smacks from Jason, Brad, and Luah alike.

"Read the room," Luah shout-whispers at Lineman while giving him a second smack in the head for good measure.

"We'll see you later at HQ, Boss. Take your time." Jason waves in Jake's direction before scampering down the road with Jerry and the rest of the crew. Jake chuckles and waves back.

You smile and grab Jake's hand, "let's go get you a proper meal."

-

You and Jake sit outside your go-to pojangmacha waiting for your orders. His head is swimming with thoughts of how he could possibly begin to thank you for waiting for him this whole time when he least deserved it, how he can articulate this gratitude and affection that's bigger than anything he can offer you in this moment.

Fresh hot plates of vegetable tempura, fish cake, and kimbap emerge before you. He indulges in the first delicious fried food he's had in months with you. The two of you feed each other skewers of tteokbokki while easing back into the groove of your usual banter sprinkled with laughs in between.

"Oh, and this is for you."

You pull out a paper box from the bakery with a slice of red velvet cake enclosed inside.

"Ta-da! It's not much, but I hope this is a slight upgrade to the cigarette-choco pie birthday cake you had in there," you grin. You scoop out a chunk of cake with the fork and hold it in front of his mouth.

"Hey, I told you you didn't need to get me anything." He's already been madly in love with everything about you, but something about this little gesture feels like it's about to tip something over in his chest.

"Hush and take a bite already!"

Jake complies with a smile. He then moves to close the distance between you two with his hand cupping your cheek, his eyes still fixed on you. He gazes at your face with an overflowing amount of affection and presses his forehead to yours, as if to pause and wonder if he still deserves to lock his lips with yours after all this time.

As if to reply with a resounding 'yes,' you pull his face to yours and kiss him deeply, tasting the sugary sweet mild cocoa flavor still lingering on his lips.

[kaedesjournal]

hmm. okay so we're about halfway done. the last half is...... well basically just an extended sex scene. im not sure im horny enough to write that right now. mayhap ill put it off til tonight. and then try and smash through the whole thing so i have time to edit on sunday. writing takes so fucking long girlies.

also i caught some truly heinous typos in the dream sequence when i reread it. how the hell'd i miss those in editing? i mustve been meating off or some shit.

[pynkhues]

Randomly, that last ask did send me down a bit of a rabbithole again about their height, because I really do think a part of the perception that Sam's so much taller comes from the fact that he has long legs and a short torso, whereas Jacob has short legs and a long torso. Like, especialy look at the comparison waistbands on their pants in the third pic, because otherwise they really are of a height.

(Pics from here.)

[forgottenarthur]

arthur/marian "i don't want an apology i just want to understand."

~flashback~

Kil-kennar was quiet, now, the people filing in orderly queues, eyes down-cast; Arthur's legionaires patrolling every public area, eyes watchful. Kil-kennar was quiet, but it was not restful. When the people raised their eyes, Arthur glimpsed pain and anger burning in them. No one had forgotten the violence, neither Aine's beheading nor the upheaval that had followed. Everyone had lost in the orgy of rage: brothers-in-arms and brothers-by-blood alike consumed, cannibalistic, by the riots. The blood was long washed away -- he'd ordered its traces dealt with immediately, but they had all seen Kil-kennar turned all to Arthur's own crimson, soupy and soaking into the very stones. The bodily scars of the living were healing, but the more fundamental ones, the scars of soul and psyche, they would never be expunged.

Still, he'd ensured Kil-kennar was safe. He would allow no risk to come to the Queen his mother. He would not chance that she might see what had been, or know any fear -- or certainly any danger. Here, in his castle, she was safe, his aides and stewarts on hand to see to her every wish -- and his knights to ensure her wellbeing. Still, the Queen had sent them all out. Arthur had known this was coming: a private interview.

He watched as the door slid closed behind the last officer, heard the heavy thunk of it. Slowly, his gaze turned to the queen, slowly processing about the room. Kil-kennar was redolent with the strange sort of non-splendour which was Astaira's own. No gold accented the great chapterhouse, its greatest artistry consisting in strange carvings at the end of each pew, its greatest glory the wide windows looking out upon the vastness of the mountain fastness, shrouded now all in green loam and milky mist.

"Mother--" he voice caught, choked. "Forgive me--"

Marian turned, eyes torn from the scenery to those of her son. "I don't want an apology." Her voice was soft, her eyes bright as the beaming sky which now was her backdrop. "I just want to understand."

He stopped, then. His jaw was painfully tight. He ran two fingers across the wooden bench, felt the warm grain, worn soft by ages of use. Once, he imagined, these carvings had been detailed, but now long worn away. He stared at it, for now unable to raise his gaze to hers. Arthur swallowed hard. "I was selfish."

"Arthur--"

"I was." He found her eyes, the limpid certainty of them. "I--" he looked down again, tapped the edge of the pew. "She was my guest. My friend." He nodded. "And I did not wish for her to die that way, Mother, I--But I failed her immortal soul. Now she will burn forever in perdition, because I did not have the strength to save her from eternal agony here on earth. And I have shamed my father, to whom I owe everything; I have shamed my House; I have shamed myself -- I have shamed you..." Slowly, slowly, his gaze founds hers.

Marian sighed, crossing to the pew beside his, and sinking into it to gaze at him from across the little aisle. She reached for his hand. Her fingers were cool in his. "You have not shamed me, Arthur. You could not. I do not believe that is in your nature."

Arthur frowned, looked away. His eyes burned. She had an idea about him, about his identity as a virtuous prince -- he was no longer sure it was true. She squeezed his hand. He turned to face her again.

"Tell me about these carvings, Arthur." With another squeeze, she released his hand.

Arthur's look was astonishment, and for a moment, he was lost for words. "I--Aine said that they represent the sigils of each of the Houses of Astaira."

"Pretty," she commented, ran her own fingers across the edge of her own pew, a deer and a fox ornamented with the sun and the moon. "Which one is this?"

"Urmund, I believe -- to the South, relatively close to the Citadel, as I understand it."

"Where these Staffords live?"

Arthur nodded. But he was not thinking about House Urmund...or was it Ormond? But he didn't care. He wasn't really thinking about that. He was thinking about her. He had brought her here, to danger. Women were not meant to visit battlefields, and great ladies still less. She would not be here, now, in a warzone, if it had not been for his selfishness...But, even so, he was glad of her presence, and that was the worst of it: the certainty that he was so very far from conquering that same arrogant self-regard that had brought all this to pass.

"...Arthur?"

He frowned, realized she had asked him something. "I--I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

Her smile looked sad, and for a moment she was thoughtful. "What would have happened if you had burned her, Arthur? Would there still have been riots?"

"Yes," he bit out.

"So nothing would have been different here in Kil-kennar if you had followed the letter of your father's law, hm?"

He frowned. "That's not the point--"

"You have a good heart, Arthur. The God knows it. I'm sure he will show mercy to your friend."

Arthur sat up straighter. "What?"

"You are the firstborn son of the God's Own Champion. You are a gift to him from on high. The God loves you, Arthur. He knows it was pity, and not sin, which was in your heart."

"The God loves justice. Not cowardice."

"Was it cowardice, Arthur, when you knew that you would be hurled immediately into battle? And that you invited the fury of a man who has conquered eleven nations?" She shook her head. "Mercy is a knightly virtue, too, Arthur. Do not forget it. Perhaps, on occasion, mercy is more just than purity." Smiling, she stood again, crossing the aisle to touch Arthur's face. "Now, come, I am famished from my journey. Let us eat something warm by the fire, together, and in the morning I shall go my way and speak to your father. All will be well, Arthur. The God smiles upon us all."