#and then expect all their issues to be understood and accounted for!!!!!!!

[ilyrafe]

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅'𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: ex-boyfriend!rafe cameron x ex-girlfriend!reader

warnings: angst

word count: 1k

“hi, rafe.”

just your voice is enough to decentralize him entirely. he didn’t expect to see you at sarah’s party, only because he didn’t know you were back to kildare.

you look beautiful as always. your hair is shorter, but that’s the only thing that has changed about you, at least, it’s what he can assume. the flower crown you’re wearing adorns your sage green dress beautifully.

“hi.” he takes a sip of his mock tail, trying to pretend he’s cool with you there, as if he knew.

“how have you been?”

“good.”

you know rafe too well. his short answers tell you he’s not at all amused by your presence, and that breaks your heart even more. he looks so handsome with a buzzcut, and it’s like he knows it.

“i guess you didn’t know i was coming.” you chuckle quite awkwardly. “sarah convinced me to come, she said it wouldn’t be an issue, but... if you want me to leave, i will.”

“i really don’t care what you do, y/n.”

you sigh, defeated. he’ll never forgive you for what you said. you thought that maybe he would have changed, or at least, understood your point, but you see that he hasn’t done either.

“okay, um... i’ll see you around, rafe.”

he watches you leave, and you’re not even pretending to be happy. he ruined your mood and he knows it. rafe sees sarah comforting you, and she shoots him a glare, making him roll his eyes and leave his spot at the bar.

he should probably leave, too.

when he turns his back and makes his way inside tanney hill, he doesn’t look back. he goes straight to his bedroom and plops down on his king sized bed. the music is muffled, thank god.

he’s been trying to make amends with sarah, even letting her come back home and be with john b in peace. sure, he doesn’t get along with the pogues, but if accepting them is what it takes for him to have the smallest sense of peace, he’ll do it.

rafe has also decided to get sober. after almost dying of an overdose, he was really scared and decided to quit. he wants to make ward proud. staying away from alcohol is a lot harder than quitting coke and marijuana, it turns out. the mock tails aren’t as enjoyable.

as if doing all that isn’t hard enough, you’re back. and with you being back, all of the feelings he’s successfully repressed are coming back up again, stronger than ever.

he hates that he’s given you this amount of power over him.

rafe never did feelings before, and the one time he did, you left him because of himself. rafe is his worst enemy.

he really loved you. well, scratch that. he never stopped loving you. you took care of him, you improved his relationship with ward and sarah. you asked him to quit drugs and selling it. you listened to him and you took none of his bullshit. you held him accountable while giving him grace.

deep down, he knows he fucked up. he wasn’t ready to grow up, but no one likes to say they’re wrong, do they?

“i just think it’s funny how you really believe this little island is an entire world for you.” you snorted. “but i know why you don’t wanna leave this shit hole. you’re a nobody outside the outer banks. there is no “kook versus pogue” once you step out of this place. you’re just another trust fund baby with drug issues to everyone else, rafe.”

he never understood your incessant need to “explore the world”, it’s so childish. you always talked about how you wanted to live in paris, toronto, tokyo, london, seoul, or berlin or whatever (honestly, you have mentioned so many cities, he has lost count), and you always said that you would be happy anywhere else, but rafe doesn’t see himself being happy far from north carolina. from kildare. from tanney hill. it’s where he comes from and where he wants to die. it’s what he knows.

a knock on his bedroom door interrupts his thoughts. rafe huffs and rolls his eyes. when he opens the door, he comes across you.

“what do you want?” he questions, irritated.

you enter his room and close the door behind you, drowning out the noise of the music once again. you’ve missed his bedroom. his bed.

“i think... i think i owe you an apology,” you say. “i shouldn’t have been so mean to you that day, it wasn’t right.”

rafe remains quiet, sitting on his bed, just listening to you talk.

“i just… i never liked it here, and i end up projecting that onto others, and i did that to you. i’m sorry.”

in theory, hearing you apologize should be gratifying, but rafe can’t identify any sign of regret in you. it’s not that he doesn’t think your apology is insincere, it’s that the regret he wanted to see doesn’t exist. you don’t regret leaving kildare nor leaving him.

“apology accepted.”

“thank you.” you smile.

“y/n, are you happy?” he asks.

“hm?”

“are you happy there?”

your smile and small nod tells everything he didn’t want to know. you are happy. in fact, you’re happier than ever.

“i am.”

rafe has vivid memories with you, and your smile has never been so wide, your eyes have never been so bright. maybe this will take him to hell, but he hates that you’re genuinely happy away from there, especially because he isn’t happy. and if he is not happy in where he feels he belongs most, there is no place in the world that makes him happy. 

maybe happiness isn’t an option for him, and the most upsetting thing about this is that money really can’t buy happiness. not the one rafe really needs anyways.

you want to tell rafe how you’re enjoying life for the first time, how being independent is amazing, but also sucks, but it’s still amazing, how the feeling of achieving something on merit is indescribable... but rafe would never understand.

it’s funny how two people who are so similar at first are so different in the end.

“that’s all that matters to me, then.”

i love feedback! let me know your thoughts! <3

[identitty-dickruption]

okay let's fucking go what is the social model of disability actually about?

the first thing you need to understand is the divide between disability and impairment. this is best understood as parallel with the sex/gender distinction drawn by some feminists. the social model says that impairment is medical and disability is social

impairments are understood as innate features of how your body functions (or. doesn't function). think about symptoms that are held in your body/mind. pain. fatigue. anhedonia. etc. you have an impairment when your body/mind/bodymind does not function in the ways expected of a healthy/abled human body

disabilities are more socially and culturally contingent than impairments. a disability is generated when a person's impairments are not met with adequate social structures, built environments, etc. this is where you might see claims such as "a wheelchair user is disabled by an inability to walk in the same way as an aeroplane user is disabled by an inability to fly". here we are thinking about social and cultural attitudes as well as a lack of physical accessibility

it is from this fundamental binary that the social model emerges. the social model says:

while impairments are real and can be disabling on their own, disability emerges or is worsened by a failure of society to adequately cater to differences of body and mind

there is a dialogue between bodies and environments that changes the nature of ability and disability from moment to moment

there is a coherent identity group we can call "disabled people". this group is bound together by shared social experiences, and are subject to shared discrimination/oppression

disability is contingent on social and cultural factors in such a way that someone who is considered disabled in one place would not necessarily be considered disabled in a different place (e.g. in an environment of high illiteracy and low reliance on written communication, dyslexia is less disabling than in an environment where literacy is assumed)

disability is not a personal tragedy, and disabled people do not exist to be pitied by abled people

all of these features of the social model of disability are 100% open to criticism. there is a grey area between impairment and disability that isn't well catered to by the social model. there are issues with calling 'disability' a coherent identity group for all the usual identity politics reasons. etc etc. criticisms of these nature are entirely acceptable and reasonable, and I agree with a lot of them (which is why I am not a supporter of the social model, I'm a supporter of the political-relational model)

however. criticisms that narrow down to "but not 100% of disability is socially constructed".... yeah not valid, acceptable, or reasonable. on account of the fact that the social model Does Not Say That. Michael Oliver (the creator of the social model) himself admits that it's not 100% social. which is why he isn't arguing that everything is social. he's just not

I recommend reading Tom Shakespeare's analysis of the social model of disability. the key parts of this analysis can be found in the disability studies reader 4th edition, which you can find here: https://ieas-szeged.hu/downtherabbithole/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/Lennard-J.-Davis-ed.-The-Disability-Studies-Reader-Routledge-2014.pdf

sorry for the long post hope it helps

[spockandawe]

Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

[zvaigzdelasas]

[DW is German State Media]

Pro-Russian officials in the Moldovan region of Transnistria on Thursday called for help from Moscow "in the face of increased pressure."[...]

A special congress of the region is understood to have passed a resolution on the issue on Wednesday.

Officials are set to ask Russia's Federation Council and the State Duma "to implement measures to protect Transnistria in the face of increased pressure from Moldova," local media reported the resolution as saying.

Transnistria had been secretive about the reason for holding a special congress, only the seventh in its history and the first since 2006. That congress saw deputies announce a referendum on integrating with Russia, a vote that resulted in an overwhelming majority in favor.

However, it did say that officials would address the deepening row over customs duties with the government in Moldova's capital, Chisinau.[...]

The congress said the Moldovan government had unleashed an "economic war" on the region, blocking crucial imports and seeking to turn it into a "ghetto." Moldova introduced customs regulations this year that require companies in Transnistria to pay import duties into the Moldovan budget.

Anastasia Pociumban of the German Council on Foreign Relations told DW that Transnistria's demands were "moderate" and most likely related to the difficult economic situation in the region.[...]

Russia said that it viewed Transnistria and the protection of its residents as important.

"Protecting the interests of the residents of Transnistria, our compatriots, is one of our priorities," Russian state news agencies cited the Foreign Ministry as saying.

Meanwhile, Moldova's Deputy Prime Minister Oleg Serebrian posted that Moldova rejected "the propaganda statements coming from Tiraspol [Transnistria's nominal capital]."

Earlier, a Moldovan government spokesman said there was "no danger of escalation and destabilization of the situation in the Transnistrian region. This is another campaign to create hysteria."

Meanwhile, the Ukrainian Foreign Ministry warned against any Russian interference in Transnistria. It called "for a peaceful resolution of economic, social and humanitarian issues between Chisinau and Tiraspol without any destructive external interference."

For its part, the United States said it "firmly supports Moldova's sovereignty and territorial integrity within its internationally recognized borders."

Deputies of all levels from Moldova’s separatist Transnistria region during a congress on Thursday asked Russia for more support in its negotiations with Moldova, noting that 220,000 citizens in the region have Russian passports.

Despite rumours, the congress made no mention of the region’s possible recognition by Russia, or annexation. Moscow supports the breakaway region, but does not recognise it as a state.

A resolution by the congress leaked to the Moldovan media seeks “implementation of measures to intensify the negotiation process with Transnistria, taking into account [its 220,000 Russian citizens and] … the unique experience of Russia in the field of peacekeeping”.[...]

The congress made no mention of possible annexation of Transnistria by Russia, foillowing speculatioh raised by a politician from Transnistria, Ghenadie Ciorba. On February 20, he wrote a post on Facebook in which he said the issue would arise at the congress and also that Russian President Vladimir Putin would recognise Transnistria in his speech to the Russian nation on February 29.

Ukrainian intelligence services, senior NATO officials and Moldovan authorities have dismissed that scenario. Despite this, some Romanian TV channels made the possible annexation of Transnistria by Russia headline news.

28 Feb 24

[dimepdf]

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃. + 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. when your high school boyfriend broke your heart and destroyed your sense of self-worth, the last person you expected to mend it was some awkward scrawny gamer and his four-year-old son. video link inspo~

pairing. dlif!kenma kozume x fem!reader

word count. 4.1k

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, dilf!Kenma, ex!Oikawa, strangers to lovers, pwp, but the plot is holding on by a thread, black-coded reader, fluff, kid fic, cheating, toxic relationship, trust issues, Harue being an Ipad kid, hurt/comfort, clothed sex, biting, spanking, spit as lube, rough sex, light choking, finger sucking, underwear ripping, unprotected sex, creampie, slight nipple play, praise kink, whiny Kenma, slight femdom at the end, mentions of pregnation, domestic vibes, eye contact, not beta'd sorry bae | —  first anime piece, feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

You and Oikawa had been high school sweethearts up until the second year of college.

 You were a headstrong yet deeply hopelessly romantic type of person, the type to wear their heart on their sleeve, which was probably why you had fallen hard and fast for Oikawa’s charming charisma the moment you first met during your first year of high school.

 It was also the reason it took you six years to realize your boyfriend had been cheating on you with several different women behind your back since he left for college, and another year to realize he was not going to change after you had to officially let him go.

You discovered that during your relationship, you were constantly competing with other women who were just better than you at holding his attention.

Starting with transferring universities just so that you two could spend more time together, hoping that without the distance, he would pay you more mind or even fully pay the rent to your shared apartment in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he would come back home to you at night.

You had fallen to rock bottom trying to rekindle that light that you two once shared together, holding onto the dearest memories hoping that he would see how hard you were trying to change just to please him. 

To no avail, the night you came home early during your lunch break to find him in your bed with another woman had been the final nail in the coffin that buried all hopes of mending your love life.

 The first thing you did was kick him out, throwing all of his shit from the balcony window, and leaving him on the curb in nothing but his underwear trying to defend himself. In the same week, you decided it was better to just drop out of college and move back in with your parents, giving up on love completely.

Leaving your bedroom only to go to work or feed yourself, you had settled nicely into the single and bitter lifestyle for merely two years. Becoming an expert at dodging your family's questions that start with that special someone.

You had to admit that you had purposely not been seeking any type of inmate relationship with anyone since your ex. Discovering the still hollowing pit in your stomach seeing pictures of Oikawa seemingly with a new, different , beautiful girl on his Instagram account every month. 

You also understood that stalking your ex’s account was everything but the first step to moving on and going through acceptance, but your curiosity would just get the best of you every time you would scroll through your feed and flinch at seeing his posts.

It didn't help that while he was so busy living through his peak in adult life, you were stuck working the night shift, stocking up just to keep your side of the rent afloat.

At the prime age of twenty-one, your life felt so meaningless at the prime age of twenty-one even your parents nagged you about needing to stay out more and for better hobbies that didn't involve staying up for long periods of time with a PS4 controller in your hands. 

While most women your age were out doing hot girl shit, you were trying not to get back pain from squatting down to self things. You were lucky enough to get scheduled for the night shifts, only having a minimal amount of customer interactions at the twenty-four-hour Target.

The only people that would step foot inside the store around where you worked were usually guys looking to buy condoms or high school students looking to buy snacks.

The last thing you expected to see walking down your aisle was a lone child taking a look around.

Being in the book aisle, you had half expected the kid to have taken a wrong turn trying to get to the video games section, but to your surprise, the child seemed interested in the arranged literature that was stacked in front of him. 

Only being able to reach to the second shelf, standing on the tip of his shoes, reaching for a book, you couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight, side-stepping closer and grabbing it instead to help him.

"Here you go kid," just as you were about to hand the book away you froze at the bold printed title; Wine, Dine and 69 ways to get some: A Locker Room Guide to Scoring with the Beautiful Women of the World. Your smile dropped as your face fell neutral, glancing at the doe-eyed boy that came up to your hip in height in concern.

"Thank you, Unnie," he replied politely, taking the book from your hands with a slight lisp in his voice as his front teeth were missing, not being able to properly pronounce symbols yet still being able to shock you completely in how to handle the situation.

 "Don’t you think you're a little too young to be reading something like this?" You ask him with a quirked brow.

The little boy doesn't seem to understand the oddity in his choice of literature, holding out the book with both hands as his eyes scanned over the cover, not fully able to process some of the letters before nodding his head as if he had figured out something.

 "Oh, it's not for me, it's for my dad. I’m trying to help him get some." As if it were surprising enough, something about the child openly indicating that his father needed to get laid made you smack your hand over your mouth in the habit of holding back your laughter, struggling to keep your professional adult composer. 

"And just where is your dad?" You had just now realized how huge and bright the kid’s eyes were, almost a golden yellow shade as they widened, turning their heads frantically looking around the isle, finally realizing that he was without his guardian.

His lip poked out, his arms crossed with the book between him. You hadn’t got much of the ocussicanal baby fever hype. The need to want a clone of yourself was not really something that you had much in mind since breaking up with Oikawa, ruining your entire perception of growing up and starting a family with some other man.

"What a dick," He spouts harshly, "He left me again." as if it weren't the first time he had to call his father out; you weren't as lucky as the last time out, backing your reaction with a small "oop." passing through your lips before you could stop it.

"How about we go find him before he starts to get worried?" You offer to take his hand and abandon your station, starting to walk down the main aisle towards one of the intercom phones.

You hadn’t even fully made your way up a different section of the store before the kid jerked his hand away, passing by the video game section, his little shoes pattering against the tiled floors before engulfing an older man that was browsing the Nintendo games in a hug. "You said you wouldn't leave me again, you liar."

"I’m not a liar; you're the one who wandered away first." The man’s eyes glance at his son, seemingly unbothered by his frantic state, even grabbing the child by the top of his head and pushing him away to grab another Nintendo controller box from the shelf.

"You're supposed to look for me. What if a bad stranger tries to kidnap me?"

"Bad strangers only kidnap cute kids," he says blandly. The child, taking huge offense to his father's teasing, his dramatic gasp, and head turn, eyeing you in disbelief, made you stiff. Having both of them notice your existence while standing just a few feet away made you stiffer still.

You watch him stiffen up, completely clearing his throat and awkwardly setting aside the controller box before picking it back up once he realized that he needed a new one. 

From how easily he turned skittish, you were starting to understand why he needed a bit of help talking to women, to the point where even his son was struggling to find outside advice on how to help his dad score.

That had been your first introduction to the single father, the second time coming around that falling week when you had caught the pair during their day out.

The little boy was chewing his father out in the middle of the GameStop for murdering his Minecraft dog, so in revenge, he made him return the game entirely, claiming to be "scared for life." Then you were able to formally introduce yourself and have since formed a pretty odd relationship with the two boys.

Harue called you almost every day from Kenma’s iPad, just to tell you how his day went or ask if you wanted to come over and play games with him. Much to Kenma’s muttering protest, telling his son how you had more important things to do than come over, much to his surprise, you hadn’t.

During your first visit, you quickly realized how truly loaded Kenma was, meeting Harue outside in the lobby of the penthouse, the kid rambling the entire elevator ride up to the top floor.

It was also around that time that you found out they had been set financially for life because of Kenma’s microcelebrity status as a gaming review channel that harbored around six million subscribers as well as owning a huge percentage of big company stocks.

But despite their being extremely wealthy, the main reason you always came around was that they were genuinely charming because you thought the two had the most entertaining and most positive personalities that you've ever met.

You loved to spend time with the two, enjoying their constant bickering and debates on which game character was better than the other, which fast food place they should order dinner from that day, and even being the middleman on which sports car they should drive just to go to their local game store.

You have also learned that Kenma’s baby momma didn't even claim Harue. The two weren't even together when she showed up on Kenma’s doorstep crying about being a few months pregnant after ghosting him the night after their first date.

Once he had gotten comfortable around you, Kenma was very open about regretting having a one-night stand with the woman, but always made it clear to Harue that he would never change a thing if it meant he would end up being his dad.

As the year continued, you quickly realized the feelings you had for Kenma were more than friendly, and that fucking scared you. 

But Harue, being the master matchmaker that he was (along with using his dad’s credit card to purchase dating advice books), would always set up you and Kenma to fall into some scheme that would always leave you two alone and flustered in each other's company until you had gotten tired of the whole awkward talking phase and bit the bullet, leading to a shared confession between you two.

You had to admit it was odd getting back into the dating scene, but you were also a very petty bitch and made it known to everyone that you were practically dating a millionaire.

An evil smirk would always spread across your lips. Oikawa would always be one of the first people to swipe through your Instagram stories of Kenma and you spending the night at a fancy restaurant or view your Tiktok videos of you and Harue failing to attempt some new trend online.

Your lives had changed drastically in just a year of knowing Kenma. Spending another year dating each other felt like a dream waking up next to him every day.

★  .  .  .    !

As you continued to poke and prod at your braids, cursing yourself for thinking the thirty-inch locs were anything but practical for the poor, plain eight-dollar pack of hair scrunchies you had purchased from Target.

Some strands had managed to peek through when you were molding the bun into place on your head with two elastics. No matter how many times you huffed and leaned down, convinced you were going to pass out just trying to tuck them away. 

Leaning in closer to the mirror, humming at the sight of your hairstyle, your lips pouting as you tilted your head to the side before your eyes caught sight of your boyfriend through the glass, wanting a second opinion on how you looked.

Swaying towards the bathroom's wide door frame, you gave a small pose that had caught his attention, turning away from the YouTube video that played from the flatscreen mounted across the room.

Kenma’s brow arched in confusion, his eyes gliding down your figure before meeting your eyes once more, expecting him to at least compliment you, your arms failing, gesturing towards your hair. "Does this look?"

"It looks fine." He shrugged his shoulders, his face as neutral as the first day you had first met him.

Since you two had started dating, Kenma’s walk-in closet had gone through a drastic change, his usually neutral color shades expanding to warmer and brighter colors that were still in his comfort zone. 

It was like you had become his personal stylist, the way you would have to pick out his outfits for any occasion that was remotely close to formal in any way.

On the night of your anniversary, you had to convince him to take a shower and wear a dark gray sweater vest despite his claims of it making him look like a fucking nerd. You had paired it with a white collar button down that peeked from the bottom and covered the belt of his black slacks.

You could already tell he was itching to remove the layers, already yanking at the neckline of his vest and eyeing his gaming console from across the room.

In addition to trying your best to make the night as perfect as possible, you had to physically peel Harue away from his VR set with the bribe of McDonald's and make him spend the night at one of his friend's house just to secure as much time alone with Kenma as possible.

"Just fine?" you asked once more, earning a side glance from Kenma, his expression now blank as his arms crossed over his chest. You had known him long enough to understand every expression and gesture that the grown man made. You had considered it a curse at this point to be able to understand him so clearly.

"Ah!" you shout, snapping your fingers out towards him as if he were a dog caught doing something wrong. "Fix your face, you're too damn old to be whining about having to go outside." Then, you returned back into the bathroom to examine yourself once more, your fingers flattening the creases in your black cocktail dress as it stuck and shaped all of your curves perfectly.

"Now come make yourself useful and help me zip this please." Your request was quickly followed by a dramatic sigh, Kenma dragging his feet until he approached from behind you, with his hands guiding your hips still in place.

Your eyes rolled as he held eye contact through his thick lashes, teasing by biting into your shoulder. "We don’t have time for you to be kinky right now." With a hitch of your breath, you had managed to distract yourself by rummaging through your jewelry box, eyeing the different assortment of gold and silver necklaces that you thought would work well with the low cut of your dress.

Kenma didn't seem to mind your distaste, only continuing to trail small kisses up your neck, your thighs pressing together, his hand wandering down to the plump of your ass, winding his hand back and smacking it with an open palm as if he had owned it. "How do you expect me not to act up when you look so good?" he whispered in your ear, recognizing the dark gaze in his eyes.

You ignored it, holding up a single golden hoop earring to see if the design would clash with your dress as Kenma continued to fondle your ass through your dress. "You said I looked fine," you scoffed, smacking his hand away.

Kenma only chuckled, "So fucking fine," his long fingers reaching around to fondle your breast instead of guiding your hips back into his crotch, pushing against his erection. You allowed him to manhandle you into place, only sighing as you were quickly wrapped around his finger, caught in the web of his dorky charm that always left you leaning in for more.

"In fact," he hummed, using the hook of his fingers to drape the straps of your dress down your shoulders. "Let me show you how pretty I think you look." Already he had started to strip you, holding eye contact when his hand pressed against the middle of your back, bending you against the cold marble sink. 

His fingers trailed under the hem of the ass, yanking it over your ass, exposing your lace panties, and looking down at you like he had unwrapped the best present ever. With the sound of his belt struggling to get loose, you couldn't help but peek at his fingers eagerly trying to shake loose from the metal belt.

The sound of your chuckling reaction makes him glare up at you, yanking the leather from the belt loops and zipping his pants to release his cock, his fingers making quick work of your lace thumb, tracing over the material against your clit before hooking them to the side and tearing them. "My bad," he says half-heartedly.

"I’ll buy you another pair." Spitting in his hand and lathering his length in a mix of your wet arousal thrusting himself against your lips with a breathy sigh. 

His hand reaches out to grab around the front of your neck, forcing you to stand with your back pressed against his chest. "I want to see you." He mutters in your ear, a shiver running up your spine as he curved his thumb to tilt your head up to get a better look at your reaction in the mirror.

Your knees are almost bucking into the counter, smacking a hand against the surface to keep yourself from falling forward from the feeling of his fingers spreading apart your lips to press his cock inside of you with little to no ease.

His pace started off mercifully, as with every thrust you chased after the feeling of being stuffed so fully, "so pretty ___," Kenma sighs, his fingers pushing past your lips and into your mouth, your tongue instantly wrapping around the digit as his rhythm sped up into deeper strokes.

The squelching noises and the sound of skin on skin echo through the bathroom. Every thrust Kenma had to hold as you felt light-headed every time the head of his cock would rub against the spot that made all your muscles feel like jelly.

Practically an expert at knowing every nook and cranny of your body, "Ken, just like that–" you whine around his finger. He only replied in a low hum, his eyes focused on your body, entirely convinced that he had known your body more than you did from the way he would leave you feeling dizzy and your legs wobbling from an orgasm. 

His hands let you go free as you slumped against the counter in the new position. Kenma raises your thigh up by the hook of your knee to angle himself inside deeper, his fingers leaving an indent in the plush of your skin.

Even before you two were comfortable with having sex, he would always be too touchy. His fingers played with the bud of your nipples, grinding against you while spooning and even forcing you to crawl into his lap whenever you made out.

Much to Harue’s disgust, he walked in many times just trying to find where you had run off to, only to see his dad with his tongue down your throat.

To Harue’s luck, you had a strict "no sex while the kid is around" rule to keep any embarrassing and potentially scary childhood memories from forming at a young age.

But you had somehow gotten the worst end of the stick. His son seemed to have gotten the same homebody trait when he was always stuck in the home office with his private tutor.

After he had completed all his work, he never seemed to show any interest in leaving the comfort of his gaming setup. Kenma was left high and dry, usually for weeks until Harue’s friends would invite him over. Kenma suspected that their partners had caught on to his suffering and were practically throwing his son out when they came to pick him up.

He would always make up for the time that you two would spend alone together, eating you out to the point where you had been begging to take a break from how sensitive your cunt was, or making it a goal to fuck on every surface around the house that he possibly could.

"Shit," Kenma yanked the material of your dress away from your ass, his fingers spreading you apart to get the mouthwatering view of his cock sucked in, his length covered in a creamy white coat from your arousal. 

His controlled pace makes your thigh tremble, "you look so gorgeous like this angel." His compliments were almost tormenting from the way he had fucked even the gel from your edges, grasping onto your hips tightly as if you’d turn into putty and slip away if he weren't too careful.

"I’m so close," you plead as mascara-covered tears stream down your cheeks, the tightening feeling building in your gut.

The pleasure was unbearable as Kenma made it a point to fuck you like you were a personal sex doll custom made just for him to ruin. His name is constant on the tip of your tongue, moaning and gasping it like it was your favorite word. 

Your legs were wobbly like you had just figured out how to use them, planting them both back on the floor, leaning into Kenma’s front, too preoccupied with being fucked stupid to care about how your hips were smashing into the edge of the sink with every thrust.

It wouldn't be the first time Kenma had been the reason you would find questionable bruises on your body in the morning.

Your cunt clenched at the disheveled sight of Kenma who had been completely pussy drunk, his normally pale skin now flushed a light pink hue. 

His eyes squeezed tightly shut, with his canine teeth pointing from his lips as he bit in your shoulder to keep himself from whimpering out your name every time your pussy clenched around him so desperately. 

Leaning in and grabbing his chin to place a kiss on his mouth, like your lips were a reward. Kenma’s tongue was already poking from his mouth into yours. His fingers naturally gravitated towards your chest, as if he had found comfort in playing with your hardened nipples.

As his thumbs ran across your hardened buds, you shivered, your cunt clenching around him in response."You make me feel so good, baby," His hands gripped tightly against your torso.

His nails dug lightly into your skin, chasing his high, nuzzling his forehead against the back of your neck as he choked on the moan that threatened to pass from his throat.

"I wanna see your face, Ken-ken," you say, even with him plowing into you. You had still managed to sound so demanding.

Kenma was quick to melt into the little obedient boyfriend that he was, revealing his hazel eyes that glistened from the threat of shredding tears from how pussy drunk he felt. "Gonna cum in me, huh—ah, wanna get me all knocked up, pretty boy?" The praise affected him as expected, and Kenma grimaced at it, even ducking his head away as if turning away would be enough to hide his flushed reaction.

With the courage of a racing horse, he had delivered one more smack against your ass, which you thought was a nice finishing touch, apparently too nice as your end tumbled out of your walls, making his hips stutter, struggling to stay in sight at the sight of your orgasm.

The marble countertops were only being used to stabilize you as Kenma tugged out of you and released you on your backside with a low grunt.

There was a moment where clarity had settled in pulling away from his hands that groped at your ass. "I can’t believe your socially awkward ass just fucked me to get out of going to dinner." You hunched over the counter, trying to catch your breath as Kenma wiped your behind clean with a piece of tissue.

next part.

[pucktoxicity]

i had a whole message ready to go and dropped my phone, so this might end up being shorter. first, as context, i went to a massive hockey school and was with my boyfriend who was on the team throughout our time there and after. still talk with him, but i’ll be honest and say that all the sh*t that comes with having a relationship with someone that’s high profile was just too much.

1. the reading stuff is hilarious. obviously they can read—they just don’t HAVE to read. even in college. was at a party at one of his teammate’s places and opened the fridge to grab something and there were textbooks, still in the plastic, sitting on the top shelf. it was a class i was also taking. when I confronted the guy about it as I held said textbooks in hand laughing (it was near midterms) he said “it doesn’t matter. i’ll pass.” he passed and it definitely wasn’t because he understood a damn thing in that course.

2. cliques exist on teams. ill break that down further. my boyfriend hung with like five of his teammates and a handful of athletes from another big sport at my school. those were who we were around on any given day. on weekends after games, or if there was a stretch with a break from some games, the entire team would go out. your ass better be at those team events or if not you better have a good reason why you’re not there. there was an issue off the ice involving the team and there was definitely a rift afterwards because a few of the guys were not there. it made for a really bad season with a team that should have done well.

3. they’re not tagging pics in real-time. they’ll post stuff a few days later with the tags on the locations so people think they know where they are if they post anything at all. that’s equally true for public and private accounts where tracking can be controlled. im sure most people recognize this, but i’ve never seen it stated outright. i was even asked to hold off on posting things until we were somewhere else even though my accounts are private. if they want you to know where they are, you’ll know where they are.

4. for the love of god do not send them nudes. not unless you want that entire team and possibly more to have them. getting nudes was a game to them.

5. which brings me to—they are ALWAYS involved in some sort of game or challenge with one another. the nudes was one, i can’t give anything more specific because i’d likely dox myself. not really feeling up for that blowback. just—they’re always betting each other over something and keeping tabs/score with something likely unrelated to hockey. sometimes it’s funny and sometimes “ew.” but there’s always something.

6. the sh*t they do off ice is hilarious and often unexpected. one of my best friends is the biggest a-hole on the ice, led the team in penalties, etc. off ice he’s the nicest human you will ever meet. he doesn’t read for fun, but he’s a nerd over a specific genre of movies that you wouldn’t expect. video games are pretty constant. they’re psychotically competitive even with those. watching giant man children rage quit video games is hilarious. oh and some of them have the weirdest habits. can’t really elaborate on that one. if anything i’d send it another time.

7. as someone that had a whole school watching my every move and then a whole city watching my every move, i can tell you it gets old fast—for everyone involved. i had people (guys and girls) show up where i lived. 95% of the sh*t i read online that was supposedly about me, him, me and him, etc was not even close to true. take what you see about any of the players or the people involved with them with a grain of salt.

8. sadly some of the worst guys are the ones in the longest relationships, or had families, etc. that was really horrifying to me. strictly anecdotal to my experience with two teams and their circles, but yeah. it was bad.

9. because the question comes up a lot—where? i met my boyfriend at mandatory study hall freshman year because im also an athlete. we never talk hockey. i talk hockey with my other friends and family, never with him or his teammates. he’s in it all day everyday, it’s his job, just like when im done with work i know i don’t want to talk about it, they’re the same way. if he brings it up, sure, but i’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to do that.

and for those keeping score: tall and natural blonde. many of his teammates over the years dated brunettes but they almost always ended up dying their hair blonde. so I don’t know if it’s blondes initially all the time. if anything i would just add that WAGs are their own beast with all the peer pressure and competitiveness of a team. the going blonde thing might be due to the pressures within that group.

way longer message than i intended but hopefully some valuable insight for those who have asked. as you’ve said, they’re humans like anyone else, their job is just different. oh, and summers were mostly working with skills coaches and rehabbing injuries/getting surgeries that are overdue that weren’t publicized. the public doesn’t know half the sh*t these guys are playing through.

everyone thank this anon for her service because this is absolutely perfect, no notes.

the ones i can most agree with / corroborate from my own experiences: she is 100% correct. do not send these guys nudes (i never have & never will, but know that they get them spread around quickly!!), and the same goes for competing over things. good lord, it’ll be the stupidest shit sometimes too but somehow it becomes a competition 😭 it’s crazy! and the same goes for schoolwork. it’s not just hockey. i have a friend who went to an SEC school with a historic football team (and sorority rush, cough cough), and she said the same thing about football players. they’ll pass. no matter what. doesn’t mean they’ll have a 4.0, but they’ll pass enough. i’m sure it’s the same with big hockey schools up here and the midwest as it is in the south with football. that doesn’t surprise me at all, unfortunately.

also, that last line. the public doesn’t know half the shit these guys are playing through. YUP. the things their bodies go through in not just a season, but in one game, are absolutely insane. and she’s very correct about privately-handled, unannounced offseason surgeries. 🙂‍↕️

i think the most interesting thing for you guys to see is her insight that most brunette WAGs end up going blonde & that whole explanation of the blonde WAG stereotype in every level of hockey.

whoever you are, i adore you, this was an amazing read, and if you ever want to talk privately in dms and stuff, i’d love to! if not, no worries, and thank you for stopping by & talking to me 🥰💋❤️

[pippin-katz]

what do you think about how nick and taylor don't like or comment on each other's post especially the ones after the strike when they both tagged each other? taylor reposted the other cast members posts and commented and liked but didn't do the same with Nick and Nick did interact and repost the bottoms cast posts. I'm not being a hater. I just found it odd, someone on twitter was saying how they do it on purpose bc they know some people ship them but idk isn't that weird move especially when you want to hype your movie. I love their dynamic and i feel kinda upset ngl I hope there's no drama recently taylor told a fan and when the fan asked about him and Nick he said they keep in touch often and they're good friends. i hope he was being genuine. idc if they aren't close close but in a weird way I will feel sad if there's drama

I want to believe that you have no ill intentions, but this issue is a real one in all fandom culture, and other people might need to hear this too. I'm gonna be blunt with you:

You're manufacturing drama.

They have not done or said anything that would imply that they don't like each other. In fact, they've established multiple times that they are close friends. The way they behave on social media does not establish or represent what their relationship is like in their real lives.

They could do whatever they wanted on their public accounts that could make people think there's bad blood, and actually be texting each other 24/7 behind the scenes. They could block each other's socials and watch everyone scramble while they just laugh at the chaos.

Speculating about the relationship of two grown, professional men in film industry based on the tiniest amounts of "evidence" is not good behavior.

In case you don't realize it, you are essentially suggesting that, based purely on biased observations and jumping to conclusions, that Nick and Taylor could be lying about being friends.

I find it concerning that your reaction to Taylor saying they keep in touch and are close is to question if he's being "genuine". How does two grown men acting differently than you would expect or want them to suggest that they are not being "genuine"?

If Taylor saying to a fan's face isn't "believable" enough, what do you want them to do? Post screenshots of their text messages with time stamps and dates to prove they talk to each other?

They do not need to "prove" anything to you. They owe you nothing about the details of their personal lives. They are not dolls existing for your entertainment. They are human beings.

This needs to be said and understood more in every fandom, so don't think I've aimed all this directly at you personally, Anon. Again, I want to believe you have no ill intentions, but I want to make it clear how small things like this can be unhealthy for you, for the rest of the fandom, and of course, to the public figures involved.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Sam; further progress in "Match is technically also a Luthor".

The thing parked outside is . . . theoretically a towncar. Theoretically. 

Match doesn’t actually think towncars are typically equipped with obvious armor and subtly “concealed” weaponry as accents, though. At least not the kind that’s clearly designed to handle open warfare, anyway. There are tanks he’s seen that were less prepared for open warfare.

“Right on schedule, Mr. Luthor,” the chauffeur says, then holds the car door open for Luthor as the bodyguard slips into the front passenger seat. Match . . . doesn’t actually know what he’s expected to do here. Obviously the chauffeur’s going to be the one driving, but he’s never ridden in a car; only the kind of transport vehicles the Agenda uses, most of which are military-issue or at least militarized designs. 

The chauffeur raises a pointed eyebrow at him, still holding the door open. Luthor’s already settled into the back of the towncar and seems to be occupied with skimming the contents of a tablet that was left on one of the seats. 

Match . . . doesn’t have any orders. Or even instructions. Or–anything. 

He’s supposed to get in the car, he thinks. It’s the logical deduction, that he’s supposed to do that. 

But no one’s told him to do that. 

Technically, he could still kill any one of them. Kill all three of them, if he’s careful about it. Luthor isn’t going to be able to pull out any kryptonite if he’s having a TTK-induced massive stroke. Technically, he could kill them all and just go back into the facility and–

“‘Joseph’ seems appropriate, but also implies I’m willing to share,” Luthor muses idly, not looking up from his tablet. “But ‘Alexander’ is just too on the nose, and doesn’t account for your brother anyway.” 

. . . “share”, Match wonders? Share what? 

“Superboy isn’t my brother,” he repeats. Luthor spares him a dry look. 

“I’m your father,” he says. “I’m perfectly aware of who your siblings are.” 

. . . Match cannot process a damn word that the man just said, so just gets in the towncar and sits stiffly on the opposite side of the backseat. Luthor returns his attention to his tablet and the chauffeur shuts the door. Match feels an odd sense of–he’d call it “panic”, almost, if he was the kind of thing that could feel anything like that. 

“I suppose one of you could be ‘Alex’ and the other could be ‘Xander’, of course,” Luthor says, tone back to musing as the chauffeur gets in the driver’s seat and starts up the car. “But that also doesn’t seem like much effort, which seems a bit hypocritical of me after I was just judging your respective manufacturers’ lack of it.” 

Match doesn’t know how or even if he’s supposed to respond to any of that. Some of the staff at the Agenda just talked to hear themselves talk; some of them expected him to function as a sounding board. A . . . “rubber duck”, one of the engineers had called him once, laughingly patronizing, though he hadn’t understood the apparent reference. 

“I don’t have a father,” he says. Luthor spares him another dubious look. 

“Oh, don’t you?” he says. “I designed your DNA myself. You’re a masterpiece, by the way, so you’re welcome for that. A perfect blend of Kryptonian and human. Sublimely arranged and maximized.” 

“Biologically, that wouldn’t make you a parent,” Match says. “Superman and Paul Westfield were the only DNA donors to the initial design.” 

“It’d actually make me more of one, in my opinion. But I said a perfect blend,” Luthor snorts dismissively, rolling his eyes. “Paul Westfield’s DNA was anything but ‘perfect’.” 

Match . . . pauses. What does that mean? Who else’s DNA would . . . ?

Oh, Match thinks. 

“The tactile telekinesis is much more effective with Luthor brainpower behind it,” Luthor informs him. “Just for the record. Westfield’s DNA wouldn’t have you capable of crushing cities or splitting atoms.” 

. . . oh, Match thinks again. 

“Splitting atoms?” he asks slowly. 

“I told you,” Luthor says, pointing the tablet pen at him and tapping it against his chest. “You’re a masterpiece. The radiance of a thousand suns. And I am Death, destroyer of worlds.” 

Match doesn’t know how he feels about being called a . . . “masterpiece”. He’s an improvement on Superboy, the Agenda’s told him, but it’s not as if Superboy’s all that impressive a baseline to start from, so . . . 

So he doesn’t know. He’s still a clone either way; a copy of someone else. A copy of a copy, in fact. 

And apparently, he’s also an atomic bomb.

[lynpheas]

i have a paper to write but. i cannot stop thinking about musa and stella. their dynamic is SO underrated…

they both have such strong personalities except musa is a lot more understated and subtle while stella is more exuberant and outgoing!! but in a subversion of expectations, stella is so down to support musa being in the spotlight — like in their s2 red fountain performance where stella did backup vocals/dancing while musa sang her heart out.

they both have familial issues & come from very different backgrounds, which simultaneously threads them together through a commonality and then sets them apart. for example, they both understand somewhat unconventional family dynamics and the absence of a parent, their mothers. stella’s parents were so busy arguing and just generally being unhappy in their relationship that they overlooked stella and how they made her feel and how their actions affected her. the loss of stella’s mother in her life is something we can infer that stella has had very little room to openly discuss with her parents, and so she has all of these internalized and idealized hopes for a future that we know will never come to pass. but she’s navigating these feelings without proper support from luna and radius. similarly, after musa’s mother’s passing, musa’s father reacted to his grief without taking into account how these events affected musa. ho-boe blamed music for matlin’s passing and so he rejected it completely, imposing that will upon musa and straining their relationship because of it. musa’s only avenue of feeling close with her mother is through music, but her feelings are disregarded and so she has to navigate this relationship with music and also her late mother all on her own.

however, for stella, she is a princess and her parents are merely divorced; so, although she rarely sees her mom and her parents don’t get along, she still has the option to go see her. i think you could say, on top of needing to be charismatic and charming as a leader, stella’s exuberant personality might’ve developed as a result of her wanting more of her parents’ attention, to be seen and understood by them. i think the 4kids dub may say otherwise, but i think it’s fairly clear that musa comes from a more modest background. and contrastingly to stella, musa has completely lost her mother and so their connection is almost…spiritual? and introspective. without her father’s guidance and understanding, musa would more have to retreat into herself. still, both of them are individuals with strong senses of self—their specific familial situations have simply informed their coping strategies and the personalities they’ve developed.

with or without that background in mind, i also just love the way stella and musa’s personalities play off of each other! because of their strong personalities, they’re prone to disagreement and small clashes. musa’s more sensitive, while stella is—although well-intentioned—more thoughtless with her words. i find musa to be more measured, but perhaps equally as blunt at times. these personality differences might result in small but realistic bumps and tiffs within their friendship, but they also have a shared understanding of one another that gives their relationship a strong foundation. and again, despite musa seeming more chill and stella seeming more prone to wanting the spotlight, stella is absolutely musa’s cheerleader!

[the-wine-dark-sea]

I just finally finished reading Murtagh and it might sound weird, but I love how much this book is about trauma. I love that it explores the ways in which the events of their lives are affecting both Murtagh and Thorn.

For example, I did not go into this novel expecting to read about a dragon having a truly disastrous panic attack, but I'm glad that it went there. And in a more positive way, I like how Murtagh interacts with children throughout the story; the way he wants to keep children from suffering as he did shows his empathy and sense of justice.

And I love that while their history shapes them, it ultimately does not define them. Murtagh's renaming of his sword is such a great symbol for that and it made me quite emotional.

But while they're more than what they were made to do in the past, it's also great that those things are still acknowledged as their actions and that Murtagh feels accountable for them. He isn't simply portrayed as some poor, misunderstood character, he's shown to actually have some darkness inside him, to be ruthless at times and to have a certain penchant for violence with the way a fight can make him feel. All that feels like a good continuation from the rest of the series.

But also, oh my god, he went through so much. The flashbacks to his past were so heartbreaking to read, especially when there was nothing to balance them out in the present. The Nal Gorgoth part got so bleak, but it didn't feel pointless or gratuitous. It was just hard to see his struggle for autonomy, both physical and mental, repeat after he thought all that was behind him.

And I like that in the end, his survival is a group effort. His inability to ask for help is such a big theme throughout the book, I like how it's kind of his fatal flaw in relation to the plot and that he eventually overcomes it. (And that Thorn overcomes his own biggest established issue at the same time. And I relate to the idea of conquering your fear for others when you couldn't do so for yourself.) I'm always a sucker for a good character arc and I loved this one.

On another note, I kept enjoying the Lovecraftian feel of it all. Christopher Paolini sure loves his world building, and this really gave me the feeling of some deep hidden lore, waiting to be explored yet probably never fully revealed or understood.

So yeah I loved the book and am excited for more, whenever we might get that.

[prettyboykatsuki]

TELL US THE LORE????

dkjfhsdgj ITS KIND DERANGED LMAOO. sorry for yapping about her backstory but its relevant to their insane dynamic lmao

my self insert / oc is basically like. disillusioned software engineer. shes based off edward snowden. she's from the planet of talia (which is desert wasteland) and she's an orphan and was raised with other bandit gangs lol. she learned how to write software and engineer thru trial and error. she's an orphan and doesn't really have any family with the exceptions of like two people she considers. but no blood. no idea who her parents are lol

she gets picked up by the ipc when she's in her teen years because she gets caught trying to steal from them using some phishing software she made. they offer recruitment instead of jail-time bc her skillsets are valuable and she sees it as a good opportunity.

she quickly finds out the ipc is crazy corrupt and she gets really like. she wants to get out but the contract is insane. so she basically. like. steals a bunch of money from the ipc and then goes permanently on the run LMAO.

she finds refuge in different planets but the ipc is everywhere. she keeps stealing from them though and interrupting their business models. very robinhood i guess. she has more of a moral conscience than other inserts i make she's really upright.

her personality is really like super antisocial and paranoid. complete loser forreal. after all that jumping around, she ends up hiding in penacony bc its huge and even with ipc presence, it's really easy for the blend in

this is where her relationship with sunday starts. he's really into her because he doesn't like the IPC for one, but also because he finds her to be benevolent (and she is to her credit she's really morally upright). he offers her like . complete refuge and protection in exchange for being part of the family.

she. adamantly refuses this proposition (he will keep asking though) but offers to work for the family as a contractor in exchange for protection. sunday agrees, she's an important and valuable asset with tons of insider information but also he feels weirdly comfortable around her.

they have such a weird relationship LMAOOOAOAOA. sunday develops this very possessive feeling about her and is really coercive and manipulative to her in general. he comes and goes as he pleases but she's not allowed to stray too far. quick to tug her leash basically. he has a really complete control over her and he's paranoid about her trying to leave him. always pulling her into corners and being kind of humiliating and controlling about how she dresses and acts etc

THE INSANE THING IS THAT SHE'S KIND OF. FINE WITH IT. she's really aware that sunday is crazy and manipulative and batshit. but she has HELLA abandonment issues because she has no "home." sunday constantly breathing down her back to stay with him and be his possesion gives her a comfortable sense of belonging and she doesn't think of him as evil - so she's weirdly content with him and just wants to be with him

SOMETIMES. WHEN SUNDAY IS IN A GOOD MOOD. he'll ask her what he wants and he's always expecting her to like beg for her own freedom but she never does. always asks for like intimacy like bathing together and cuddling. and it always shocks sunday LMAOAOA because he's convinced she secretly depsises him but its like dude. Lol.

they're genuinely so in love. this is deranged im aware but they really genuinely love each other and feel understood by one another. but its insane by all accounts

[gattnk]

It's hard to forget Ang-Lì and Mefisto, for the oddest reasons.

These two were unlucky enough to become cut content in the cartoon, and I can see why: the cast was huge, the new plot had a stronger focus on the protagonists, and sadly Ang-Lì and Mefisto were sort of... tertiary in the comics. While it seems like the comic was just about to pick up the pace with them, it got discontinued right before they got their moment to shine. I did my best to take all of this into account, and here's my resulting notes on the redesign process:

I dug up all I could about these two to make sure I understood their characters as much as possible, since the comics themselves shared very little. Finding the extra content that came with the comics was crucial (the original printed issues included all sorts of cool stuff you'd expect from kid magazines at the time).

I noticed how Ang-Lì is usually very enthusiastic in the comic, often cracking a joke or two mid conversation, and he also has a passion for earthly comic books. I gave him pretty plain clothes to contrast with his joking nature, represented by the yellow-orange. This way the color and his personality really pop up!

According to the extra content, Mefisto's super laidback about most things, with the exception of music: he's a metalhead who may or may not pirate his favorite Earth bands, who's also the vocalist of the devils, and can't make it through the day without his headphones. So I just went with the classic metalhead look: dark shirt, washed jeans, wallet chain and thick wristbands. The duller colors go really well with all the green hair, it doesn't feel like too much.

I tried to emphasize their interests with their accessories since their clothes are quite plain compared to the other redesigns. Since Mefisto's headphones are so important to him, they also had to pop out, hence the orange, white and toxic green. In the meantime, Ang-Lì's kicks are a pun of sorts: he keeps the jokes running. lol.

Turns out Ang-Lì's mascot is a stick bug, who knew? He keeps it in his shirt pocket like a pencil, as a bit of a joke. Meanwhile Mefisto places his gecko mascot on his wallet chain, like those lizard keychain bottle openers that used to be popular in the 2000s. I thought it represented their respective natures well.

I actively chose to swap Mefisto's skin color. The devils could use a bit more variety, honestly, and it still holds homage to his old color palette. Besides, you don't see many black metalheads in media and that's a shame! Rock on my metal siblings!

Ang-Lì had a pretty solid design from the start that still holds up well, so the biggest personal change was the haircut. everything else (clothes aside) I kept pretty much the same.

That would be it for these two! Honestly, keeping their character essence was particularly easy, compared to my other redesigns (yes, even easier than Raf/Sulfus). Even with the little content we have, all in all they're pretty solid characters! So yeah, they deserved to be brought back. I did my best to give them the spotlight more often in my script, let's see if I do them justice!

I'll Fly With You (rewrite fic) Art masterpost

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

One Captain's Daughter (Part 3) - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / OC (Amara Blackwood-Mitchell)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Light Angst, Daddy Issues, Arguing, Complicated Family and Relationship Dynamics, References to Pregnancy Scares; Female OC from Third Person POV

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Chapter Summary: Rooster contemplates recent events. The other Daggers make a discovery.

Part 1 Part 2

Master List

Rooster wasn’t expecting to run into both Mitchells in the span of ten minutes in the same aircraft hangar, surrounded by his fellow aviators, while they prepared to train for what appeared to be, at a first glance, a suicide mission. Nor was he emotionally prepared for it. Any of it.

Seeing Amara was the bigger surprise of the two, even though their paths had crossed only two years ago instead of nearly two decades. In the back of his mind, Rooster was always wary of missions outside of his usual squadron because of the inevitable possibility of running into Maverick. Amara was usually easier to predict and account for. If you didn’t want to see her, stay out of the DC area.

But perhaps the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Amara was always two things, especially in professional settings: by the book and firmly rooted to the ground. The exact opposite of her father, and that wasn’t a coincidence. Not by a longshot. No, Amara Blackwood-Mitchell, or just Amara Blackwood in professional settings, had spent just about her entire life wanting to be the exact opposite of her father.

Looking back on it, Rooster guessed that her staunch anti-flying phase began after Maverick and Charlie split for the final time. Maverick was sent on a deployment not long after, which probably had something to do with Ice, that was supposed to last six months but ended up lasting nearly ten.

But after that point, Amara was never afraid to loudly declare that she would never be a pilot. Never. Under no circumstances. She had no interest in flying. It wasn’t that she was afraid of it—because she wasn’t—but it was more that she detested its existence.

And well, Rooster never understood her perspective until he got burned by Maverick himself.

Amara hated flying because she thought that naval aviators ran away from their problems with flying. Like Maverick did when life got hard at home. Amara hated flying because she thought that pilots didn’t want to be tethered to the ground, and so no one or nothing would be able to keep them on the ground. Not even their own child.

Amara Blackwood-Mitchell hated flying because she’d been replaced by flying one too many times in her life. And well, maybe Rooster had contributed to that tally sheet himself. And by ‘maybe’, he knew that he had. Unfortunately.

“Honda will be here for the duration of our training exercises and will be reporting back to the Pentagon on such matters. So, I would be on your best behavior in front of her for your own sakes,” Warlock stated, knocking Rooster out of his memories.

Mentally, it almost felt like he had been ejected from whatever memory land and fantasy realm he’d unwillingly fallen into, but Rooster shook it off. He tried to focus on Cyclone and Warlock, he really did, but he quickly found his eyes wandering again.

And after a moment of delay, Amara turned her head to meet his gaze once more.

~~~~~

Rooster was the last one into the locker room.

He took a quick shower, scrubbing the residual smell of the jet off of his skin haphazardly. His mind was clearly not in the locker room, or even the present. And Rooster knew that Hangman probably wasn’t going to leave for the day without getting in one last jab.

Rooster walked over to the lockers with a towel wrapped around his waist. Fanboy and Payback were sitting on one of the benches, discussing what had gone wrong in their runs. Bob was quickly changing at the locker beside Rooster’s own, and he nodded politely when Rooster approached. Coyote and Fritz were talking about carpooling to the Hard Deck.

And then came Hangman swinging in, sauntering over with a wide smirk on his lips.

“You’re not going to believe what I found out about our little observer,” Hangman announced, drawing the attention of the rest of the locker room. Though his jaw clenched, Rooster made no other indication that he heard Hangman.

“About Honda? The Pentagon rep?”

“Yeah. Turns out her last name is Mitchell.”

“Mitchell?” Coyote repeated back, looking surprised. “Like ‘Maverick’ Mitchell?”

“It’s not exactly a unique surname,” Payback pointed out from behind Coyote. “Don’t get ahead of yourself again, Hangman.”

“I’m glad that you said that Payback, because a quick Google search pulls up this picture."

That had Rooster turning around, a barely-contained fire raging behind his eyes. Hangman held up a picture on his phone of Amara smiling at a graduation ceremony. Charlie stood to her left, wearing the same smile as her daughter, while the one and only Pete “Maverick” Mitchell stood on Amara’s right. There was no mistaking it.

“Shit, that is Mav!”

“Wait, she's his daughter?”

“Her callsign is Honda though.”

“Still, Mav’s her dad?”

“So what?” Rooster cut in, causing the others to turn to him. “Doesn’t change anything. And it’s not any of our business.”

“No need to look all butt hurt,” Hangman replied, snatching the phone back from Fanboy’s hand. “It’s not like I was insulting your little girlfriend or anything, Rooster.”

“What are you? Thirteen?” Rooster scoffed, turning back to his locker.

“You were certainly staring at her like you were,” Hangman shot back at Rooster. “Like you’d never seen a woman in heels and a pencil skirt before.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this. Any of this,” Bob interjected with more force than some of them thought he was capable of. “Regardless of whose daughter she is, she still deserves our respect. On and off base. Not to mention the fact that she’s writing the report on all of us. Pissing her off isn’t exactly a good idea.”

“Oh, calm down, Baby on Board.”

“Back off, Hangman,” Rooster warned him.

“Some of you guys need a cold shower,” Payback sighed, standing up. “And besides, Rooster and Bob are right—this information doesn’t change anything. Unless one of you wants to test Maverick’s protective tendencies?”

Murmurs of ‘hell no’ echoed around the locker room, which seemed to settle the matter. But the look in Hangman’s eyes warned Rooster that the matter wasn’t entirely settled.

Rooster turned back around to get dressed to leave while the other aviators started to filter out of the locker room. Luckily for Rooster, Hangman left with Coyote and Fritz, already talking about getting a nice cold one at the Hard Deck. He wasn’t in the mood for Hangman’s usual shenanigans today. Bob closed his locker before turning to Rooster.

“Don’t let Hangman get to you,” the WSO encouraged quietly. “He just knows that you’re his biggest competition and he’s trying to push your buttons.”

“I know. Thanks, Bob.”

“Of course. See you later, Rooster.”

“Bye, Bob.”

Rooster bid goodbye to Payback and Fanboy, who left the locker room shortly after Bob. And then he was alone with just his thoughts, which Rooster knew from personal experience was a bad thing. Because then his mind wandered into topics that he wasn’t ready to address. Topics that were apparently going to come up regardless of if he was ready for them or not.

Like his complicated relationship with Amara “Honda” Blackwood-Mitchell.

~~~~~

Two Years Ago

“What do you want me to say, Amara?” Rooster sighed, tugging at the curled strands of his hair. He picked his head up, staring across the room at Amara. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed at him. “Do you want me to apologize?”

“I want you to stop running away from your problems!” Amara snapped, taking a step forward. “I want you to stop running away when things get difficult!”

“I didn’t run away!”

“Well, you certainly weren’t present either!”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Amara!?” Rooster got to his feet, more than annoyed now. “I was freaked out, okay? I’m not allowed to be freaked out!?”

“Of course, you’re allowed to freak out!” Amara argued back. “But you have to come back down after you freak out. You can’t just freak out, up and leave, and come back when it’s convenient for you again! That’s not okay, Bradley!”

“I never said that it was!”

“Then why did you do it!?”

“Why are we even arguing about this?” Rooster sighed, stepping out from behind the coffee table. “We freaked out over nothing, Amara. The situation’s resolved! Actually, there wasn’t even a situation in the first place.”

“Because what happens down the line when it wasn’t just a freak out over nothing?” Amara asked, starting to pace.

“Then we’ll deal with it then.”

“Will we?” Amara demanded of him. “We will handle it? Both of us?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Bradley, every time someone tries to have a hard conversation with you, you run away! You run away from all of it! You just tuck your emotions into your pocket and put on a smile and run off like some cocky flyboy to avoid your problems!”

“I’m here, aren’t I, Amara? What else do you want from me?” Rooster ran a hand through his hair, angrily tugging on the strands. “Jesus Christ, Amara, you weren’t even pregnant! So, what’s the problem!?”

“And what if it wasn’t!?”

“But it was!”

“You’re not listening to me,” Amara growled out. “What if it wasn’t? What if down the line we go through the same thing again and this time it’s actual positive? Then what?”

“I’m not dealing with hypotheticals. You aren’t pregnant, and you never were pregnant. Problem solved. Why can’t we just move on?”

“Because I’m not confident that you’ll be there like I need you to be,” Amara replied quietly. She stared up at Rooster with a softened gaze that had a semblance of tears forming on her eyelid. “And I can't live like this."

“Amara, you . . . I . . . this situation is completely different.”

“Is it?” Amara snapped, taking a step forward. “So, you’d be happy to call up my parents and tell them that we’re together?”

“Amara,” Rooster warned her, but Amara had her answer.

“And that’s why I can’t do this anymore,” Amara whispered out. She turned on her heel and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Amara, wait,” Rooster sighed, trailing after her. “You know that I can’t do that.”

“As you’ve told me,” Amara stated simply as she gathered her things.

“Amara, come on. Amara, wait.”

“No,” Amara snapped, facing him once more. “I can’t do this anymore, Bradley. I can’t. I won’t.”

“What? Not telling your parents? That’s what you’re mad about?”

“The whole fucking thing!” Amara yelled, waving her arm around. “I can’t live a lie, Bradley. Okay? I can’t. I’ve tried, I tried because I wanted to be with you but honestly, I can’t. I can’t do it anymore.”

“I never asked you to live a lie!”

“Then let’s call up my parents right now and tell them everything,” Amara replied, holding up her phone. When Rooster stuttered out an incomprehensible excuse not to, Amara turned to leave again. “I can’t keep doing this, Bradley. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that this,” Amara gestured between them, “is not meant to be a long-term situation.”

“What do you mean? We’ve been together now for years!”

“Exactly! We’ve been together for years and I can’t even tell my parents who I’m going to see when I fly out to every corner of the fucking country and planet to see you! Like I’m some sixteen-year-old high schooler sneaking out of her bedroom window!”

“You know that there’s a reason for that.”

“I thought that at some point, you would want to move on with your life, Bradley. Move on from the past. Or at the very least, you’d stop the past from getting in the way of your future! But you’re right, there is a reason for that.”

“Amara, wait,” Rooster called, still following after her.

“Bradley, I’ve waited years! I’ve waited four fucking years of my life for you, and I can’t wait any more otherwise I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“I just need more time,” Rooster pleaded with her.

“And I can’t give you more time,” Amara replied softly. “You’re not ready. And you might never be ready. And that’s fine. But maybe then you should be with someone who is okay living with that. And maybe I need to find someone with a less complicated history with my parents.”

“Amara—”

“—Bradley, I’m sorry, but this is too . . . it’s too complicated. It’s too raw, it’s too much. And I can’t do it anymore.”

“Amara, don’t leave. Come on, we can talk about this,” Rooster begged her, but Amara had made up her mind already.

“I don’t think that any amount of talking is going to help us right now,” she replied softly, taking a step back from him. “You have your boundaries, and I have mine. And they’re not compatible, Bradley. I don’t think that they’ve ever been. Not really.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want to never speak to my dad again. Well, I want a future where the person I love can interact with my parents the few times a year that I’ll probably see them. And with what happened this last week . . . if down the line we were to have kids, would you be okay with them seeing my dad? Would you? Because I wouldn’t be okay with them not seeing him.”

“Why is everything about your dad?” Rooster demanded from her. “Why can’t we just be happy together?”

“Because that’s not the way the world works. I’m not willing to cut my dad completely out of my life forever for you!” Amara finally snapped. “And you’re not willing to let him back into your life for me for just a little bit.” She straightened up with her eyes shining with tears. “And that’s that. Isn’t it?” 

And it was. Until now, that is.

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @hangmanscoming

[bronnichiwa]

FFXIVWrite; Day 10 - Stable

Day 10 - Stable

Edmont de Fortemps knows the pain of losing a child.

During Ultima Thule, it almost happens again.

Edmont de Fortemps loved all of his children equally.

That he loved Emmanellain and Artoriel went without saying.  That he loved his bastard son the same was peculiar, even in the more progressive parts of Ishgardian society.  His now-late wife had taken issue with it, of course, but Edmont was always one who looked towards the future.  If his children were to be the future, he could hardly hold his own transgressions against them.

From the first day he held Haurchefant in his arms, there was no question that the boy was his, and that only made his untimely passing all the more painful.

In Ishgard, it was extremely common for parents to outlive their children.  That they lived in the fires of war meant that the young were always in more danger than the old, and this was something that Edmont had grown to understand over the years.  Still, this didn’t make Haurchefant’s passing hurt any less.

Edmont understood all too well why there wasn’t a word for parents who outlived their children.  He felt as if his own being was being ripped to shreds, as if the world had lost all of its vibrancy in a matter of moments.

It would have been easier, perhaps, if there was someone he could blame.  If he could look at the Warrior of Light and think that without their existence, his son would still be here.  But doing so would be nothing if not an insult to Haurchefant’s memory, and Edmont had grown a soft-spot for the Warrior of Light.

Somewhere along the line, the Warrior of Light had become his child, too.

He had never meant for it to happen.  Edmont had, in fact, denied Haurchefant’s initial pleas to offer the Warrior and her friends aid.  But Edmont was nothing if not full of love, and given the soft spot he held for his son, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.  Not when Haurchefant was this passionate. 

With the Warrior of Light under his roof, he quickly became enamored.  He’d expected a selfless savior, someone who spoke quietly and only ever put others’ needs above their own.  He’d expected a saint, much like the ones that were written about in Ishgardian tradition.  That he’d found instead someone entirely more human awakened his parental instincts once again.

He did his best to support the Warrior of Light while she was in Ishgard, even if it only amounted to giving her somewhere to stay.  Edmont had been a parent long enough to know what his children needed, after all, and the Warrior of Light lacked nothing if not stability.  He strove to provide a warm hearth and a welcoming home.

All children eventually leave the nest, however, and the Warrior of Light was no exception.

Old as he was, Edmont was unable to travel.  Instead, he received his updates from Ser Aymeric.  Ala Mhigo, Sharlayan, Thavnair; all were places he’d never been, but he relished in hearing about them all the same.  That the Warrior of Light never came to him directly didn’t escape his notice.  There was some part of her, he surmised, that held herself accountable for Haurchefant’s death.

Edmont longed to give his daughter a hug, longed to tell her that it wasn’t her fault and she shouldn’t blame herself.  But, he knew that some things couldn’t be rushed, and such blatant displays of emotional awareness were all but foreign in Ishgardian society.

Instead, he makes sure that his house is always ready to receive company.  He makes sure that his house is always a home, always somewhere she and her companions can escape should the situation call for it.

When he receives the call, Edmont acts no differently.

The former Count Fortemps has known Aymeric for most of the younger Elezen’s life, and Edmont has never heard him so distraught before.  It takes him a long time to parse what Aymeric is even saying: the Warrior of Light was gravely wounded in a faraway corner of the galaxy and is currently in critical condition.  They’re waiting for her to stabilize, Aymeric explains, but they don’t know that she will.

Without much else to do, Edmont de Fortemps works to make his house a welcoming home.  He makes sure the drapes are changed, and he makes sure the guest room is ready.  That there is a metaphorical sword of damocles hanging over his heart, threatening once again to shatter him into a million pieces, does not deter him.  That his world could once again be stripped of color does not make him stop.

After all, there is little an old man can do from this far away, save for make a stable home.  Save for make somewhere to return to.

When the dust settles, and Rose is fully healed, she returns to Fortemps Manor.  Though the decorations have changed, it’s just as warm and inviting as she remembers.  In a world of chaos, where things can change between seconds, it’s home.

And Edmont is there to greet her with a smile, as if she never left.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trimax Thoughts Vol. 10 Pt. 1

Stream of consciousness again. Here goes (I say with a lot of trepidation even though I have a sinking feeling I already know what's going to happen)

Coming back to edit the beginning here to, ah... inform you all that this pretty quickly devolved into a record of my complete mental breakdown. So, uh, idk, maybe this will be actually somewhat funny to read, especially for those of you who knew what was coming. My tears will be your balm for this week. Maybe.

I don't know how to verbalize this but there's something about this image I really like compositionally. There's something about it that evokes a kind of bittersweet peace. It just really sets a tone for what I'm pretty sure I know is to come. I am not ready.

"It's 'specially because of times like these that an idiot like him plays an important role. He's doin' somethin' extraordinary. He believes." <- so so so very true! A light in the dark is not just rebellious, it's necessary. He's allowing himself to hope, not because he suddenly believes as strongly as Vash in the world at large (he's still far from that) but because he believes in Vash himself.

Fuck right off Chapel.

He's literally being impaled by a cross. There's. Something to read in that but I'm sorry I know nothing about Catholicism/Christianity...

"obsessive sense of attachment" <- so long as his disciples do as he molds them to do. in that sense, it's a little reminiscent of Knives' desperation to keep Vash with him and his quick anger when Vash does not behave the way he expects him to, but it also kind of makes Chapel the anti-Wolfwood, in a way. The true lack of hope, the way he would apparently do just about anything for his child disciples, but only out of a sense of them being easier to mold/manipulate, rather than Wolfwood's genuine love for the kids at the orphanage, and the compassion he's shown downtrodden kids in general. Chapel values Razlo because he values his usefulness, which unfortunately makes sense as to why Razlo would be so loyal to him. I have to wonder the circumstances that led to Razlo killing all those people... I don't think it would've been for no reason at all - he killed Livio's parents because they were abusing them, killed the dog likely because of a grave miscalculation of cause-and-effect when it came to Jasmine almost dying, and killed the men who were tormenting Livio when he ran off. But anyways I hate how the EoM keeps shackling him and restraining him like he's some feral animal. Has anyone ever been kind to Razlo? Has anyone ever rewarded him for anything other than being useful? Look, kid had some serious issues that needed to have been addressed (instead of training the severely traumatized hair-trigger violent kid to be... even more violent lol what did they expect would happen?), but... look at him. He was still very much a kid who saw someone who proved that he was useful to them through an incredibly violent act - the only language Razlo actually understood. Idk if there's any reaching him now but... ugh.

Orphanage lady I adore you. Also the kids refusing to scatter hjdfhbvsjdf

"Why else would he bite the hand of his master?" Really, with this and the way Razlo is restrained in flashbacks, we're going for a strong "trained attack dog" theme going on here huh? Fuck you dude. (There's also "bite the hand that feeds you" as an expression... which is interesting too, because Chapel clearly feels Wolfwood should feel honoured by his teachings... but his was never the hand that fed. Chapel tore this child down.)

NO FUCK OFF THIS IS WHAT HE WAS MOST AFRAID OF. And I hate this so much more because this means that Chapel actually knows Wolfwood's fears quite well... but ASSHOLE WHOSE FAULT IS THIS?

Yes!!! They love you! Get loved, idiot!!!!! You never had to do everything alone... :')

*ugly sobbing*

I still think Wolfwood tried to do this alone out of a sense of personal accountability and not wanting to burden Vash with his own problems - while he thinks they could've done this as a team here, I think he's still only thinking in "I failed" rather than realizing that helping would've been far from a burden. If that makes any sense. I still think Wolfwood devalues how much he matters to the people he cares about.

Here he is! Using his Plant powers without hesitation again to intervene and help Wolfwood. I can't believe the way they allow each other to become less afraid.

"I made a friend." Yes! You! Did!!! I reiterate! GET LOVED.

Aaaaaaand Wolfwood still can't quite wrap his head around the idea that his personal struggles might actually be incredibly important to Vash. See, I don't think it's that Wolfwood thinks Vash doesn't care about him - far from it, I think he definitely knows that - the heartbreaking part is the way he never seems to think he is anyone's priority. (And he really has become a priority to Vash hasn't he? He's postponing the confrontation with Knives to help him. :O) Also the way "I can't believe it." is overlayed on the panel with the church bell and the "angel" wing. Ha. Nice. Nice. This is fine.

I'm sorry but this made me laugh so hard. Imagine some angel looking guy appears out of nowhere and blocks all your bullets. Like. Yeah. That would be the response hdjfhbsdjfvh (Also I think this is a fantastic reaction image pfft)

"That overdose will make your heart rupture!" ...no...

Did he just throw Chapel? Is he dead???

AUGH I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE SUNGLASSES. He's trying to hide his eyes again (just like he does earlier in the series when he's about to shoot with lethal intent/is trying to hide his feelings) because he thinks they reveal him as a monster or irredeemable - they do not. They never have. But Vash... apparently either hearing his thoughts or just knowing him well enough to know what he needs and responding to that instantly... :'(

...I wonder... is this the first time Razlo has registered a death as cruel? Chapel died instantly; that's not really all that cruel... the cruel part is that Razlo is experiencing personal loss.

NOOOO WE'RE GETTING A FLASHBACK TO THEIR FIRST MEETING WITH VASH'S THOUGHTS AND THE FUCKING BIRD??? THE BIRD REALLY IS MEANT TO BE VASH AND HIS IDEALS, ISN'T IT? AUGH

AW YEAH THEY'RE TAG-TEAMING BABY!!! Everything is different when they are back to back :)

Ahdjfhvbd and now they're saying the exact same things at the same time. Soulmate behaviour fr

I missed them being silly together so much... it's amazing too, because in spite of the situation, they both seem so much less tense than earlier. Still though... "why are you here?" and he can't spit out an answer, even though it should be really obvious... like I think they both know but accepting/admitting that is another matter.

God this is such an "I missed you I'm so glad you're here" moment. Probably as close as Wolfwood is going to get to outright saying that

Hello? Wolfwood's loved ones in one panel right next to Vash's loved ones in the other? Vash repeating Wolfwood's arguments of "realism" and "have to get back to the kids"? Wolfwood, you're scaring him...

I'm fascinated that the "he had become very close to me" part is overlayed with the scene where Wolfwood tries to get Vash to shoot. The whole "if I pull that out of you"... then combined with "What is important? What are we willing to do to protect it?" ...Livio and Vash are important to Wolfwood, so he is trying hard not to kill. Has Wolfwood become so important to Vash that... he might?

YOU CAN SEE HIS EYES THROUGH THE SUNGLASSES AHHHH

NO. NO. NO. HE WANTS TO LIVE PAST KNIVES. HE WANTS A FUTURE. HE WANTS A FUTURE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE STORY. HE WANTS WOLFWOOD THERE WITH HIM. ALSO I JUST NOTICED HE TOSSED HIS FUCKING GUN ASIDE TO CATCH HIM. He doesn't want this kind of life for them... he wants peace for them both... he wants them to stick together, even when there are no more battles to fight... he wants to live for Wolfwood. He wants to live with Wolfwood. Oh my god. No. No.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

STOP. WHY WOULD YOU FOCUS ON THE HAND. IT'S DIGGING INTO HIS BACK. He can't hold him... he can't...

Hey uh. Does it mean something that Vash didn't even react or feel the knives (the knives) in his shoulder because the pain of this hurts so much worse right now? (Also did I need to cause myself emotional damage by writing that out?)

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Oh damn I think he is mad enough to kill. Holy shit.

In other news. I hate everything.

The sunglasses blown off his face again. When Razlo threatens Vash. Fuck off.

This fight scene is awesome and I love how brutal yet clever of a fighter Wolfwood is. ...I wish I could enjoy it more. Alas. I feel only pain.

I'LL NEVER BE WHOLE AGAIN. I'LL NEVER BE WHOLE AGAIN. RAZLO'S LINE AND THEN THIS. WHY WHY WHY

:O (reminds me of the Diablo chapter...)

Ok first off how the hell was Chapel still alive. Secondly, AHEOHJBFSHUCBSJVHSBJHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Livio :') (I feel pretty bad for Razlo though all things considered... I hope he's not gone for good? That'd be weird I think...)

Wolfwood, after all this shit, just laying on the ground: "yeah seems like a good time for a cigarette"

AHH AHH AHH AHH AHH AHH AHH AHHHHHHHHHH

HNNNNGGGHDFBSUHCBUHSB... HHHHH A BAPY

wait. how could it have only been six years. what.

NOOOOOOO GOD THIS IS JUST LIKE VASH THINKING MERYL WAS SCARED OF HIM ALL OVER AGAIN. SWEETIE NO I AM POSITIVE THAT KID ONLY SCREAMED BECAUSE OF THE BLOOD. THEY LOVE YOUUUUU

...oof. I think Livio's hiding too. :(

GHHHHHHHHHHH THE COINS

Hjfshvbdfjhbv Livio comic relief. I'm so sorry buddy but I needed that. Hope you're ok...?

...so this is the scene the "infamous couch" is from. Okay. Okay. I get it now. Ow.

...I'm actually fighting back tears right now. I. I don't usually cry at stuff like this. I don't know if I can do this man.

He wants him to smile even if it's not a real one. He just wants to know he'll be ok. But Vash can't smile. He can't handle this kind of genuine talk. It'll make it all real. He's actually praying. Praying for just this one person. He's. He's never done that before, has he...?

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

ugh yeah no i'm crying. i'm tearing up. oww...

Oh, well, so is Wolfwood. Ugh. Ow. Ow.

...I saw the bell and had to stop and take a break. I don't want to turn the page. I don't want this. I'll come back tomorrow. Bye.

--

Hhhhh... What if you died knowing you were loved and you didn't realize how much until the end. What if you died realizing you always could've come home; that you would always be recognized for who you are, not what you'd been cruelly forced to become. What if you died seeing a possible future with the ones you loved but never being able to obtain it. Because it is far, far too late for that. The gratitude, the relief, the anguish that it all ends just as you realize what you could've had, and you cry out. But you still died knowing you were loved. And that's far more than you ever imagined for yourself.

I like to think he was smiling at the end because... it finally sank in.

And the bottle is labelled Bride??? What does that mean??? (Oh wait now I want to go back and look at the other alcohol bottles in the series to see if there's anything interesting on them) But uh, yeah, is this a religious thing, because I'm... why Bride. Why "The Bride". Huh?

^Hey this is really effective. Also, fuck off.

^Nightow sensei WHAT THE HELL MAN. Was this necessary?

Yeah I saw the first page of chapter 8 and my entire stomach just lurched. I think we should all receive compensation for emotional damage here. The bird... but it's not the black kite (Vash)... what kind of bird is that, I wonder?

Ah... Vash buried him. Alone. Hm. Yes, feeling normal about this. (Also Livio woke up inside the house which means... he must've moved him there too...)

"What do you mean "why"? You of all people should know why." <-oh. ow. yikes...

Oh... oh. His hair. :(

And it's so... he protected the area from the Ark. Ok he's protecting the place Wolfwood died to protect. Par for the course for Vash really. Except... hasn't everyone here evacuated already? He's protecting the place itself. ...also idk if this is right or not, but given the way the black hair is expending his own lifeforce it's... kind of hard not to see this a little as him expending the time he was planning on sharing with Wolfwood... and also that his hair went black... like the colour of mourning. ...with the "Bride" thing too it's... no. I shan't say it. I hate it here.

Hhhhhh... they both associate him with food...

Well. This has wrecked me. Thank you guys. I don't think I can analyze anything this week I'm too sad.

[thank-heaven-you-asked]

Subs Over Dubs, Except... Huhh

I've watched Stampede subbed a number of times that I have enough dignity not to specify, and I've never consciously had any issue with its translation or localization -- not knowing Japanese, I can only complain about a translation when it can't be understood, so I guess this is more about localization. So I've been fussing with my Hulu account this week and I ended up putting Stampede on in English because why not. You guys... is it just me, or is the dub better?

This is pretty specific -- I don't mean the performances are better. They are very good! It's 2024, most dubs with a budget behind them are good these days. And I have a bias in that I'm extremely familiar with the Japanese performances, so my frowning at lines with different inflections is not a criticism, it's just my face doing a thing. And again, I can't speak to the translation at all (I've read within the last few days that there is some debate over which translation is more accurate vs which is is more palatable -- because, yeah, Knives 's whole... thing is toned down a lot in the dub -- but to this English-speaker they are mostly the same in way of communicating meaning. mostly) I mean that the dub script is considerably better. Easier to follow, the jokes land better, and yeah, it's occasionally translated or least wrestled into understandable English better. I have never encountered this with a dub versus its sub before!

I should have examples. This post is pointless without examples. Um. I've been awake for 25 hours and didn't retain much of what I noticed. I'll follow this up with more, but one example that stood out was Wolfwood's half-improvised prayer over the graves in episode 4. Lemme just pull those up...

Here is the sub's version:

"Okay... O father in heaven... forgive us our sins as we forgive our neighbors. May you accept our fallen brethren and welcome the departed to your... What is it? Welcome them to your... dinner? No, that's a meal. Deliver them unto your... design? No, nobody's talking about fashion. Uh, give us a drive... He's not your chauffer, you idiot."

Meryl interjects with, "Are you really a priest?" Wolfwood says, "I'm no priest. Just an undertaker. Now back off, you're ruining it."

So it's mildly inexplicable that Wolfwood is speaking actual nonsense here, but I've been taking it as a semi-accurate translation of plays on words/puns/cultural jokes about Christianity that Westerners wouldn't be in on -- you know, typical translation nightmares. Not a big deal. And as Westerners, we're more familiar with Christianity, and I kind of figured the joke wouldn't land anyway.

And here's the dub's version:

"And... there! Uh... Heavenly father, who art in heaven... Forgive us our sins, Oh Lord, as we forgive those who sin against us. Please welcome their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed into your, into your.. What is it? Welcome them into your humble abode? Into your pearly gates? Nah, that sounds off. Deliver unto them deliverance? Not quite, but I'm getting there. Um, make sure there's some empty chairs. They're 'kingdom come'-ing, so..."

Now Meryl interrupts with, "That's enough. You're not really a priest, huh?" Wolfwood says, "No, I'm not. I'm an undertaker. Scram, will ya? You're messing with my mojo."

Side by side, you can see that these are recognizably translations of the same lines. The dub isn't really taking a ton of liberties; "give us a drive" is clearly at least in the same ballpark as "they're 'kingdom come'-ing." It's just that one is cleverly worded in English and therefore funny, while the other makes no sense. And the one that doesn't make sense is the sub, where you'd expect more breathing room with word choice and comic timing.

I kept noticing this -- again, I'll follow this up with lines that made enough sense in the sub that the dub went as far as to change my understanding of the exchanges they're in. And in those cases, the localization is clearly what's making the difference. I don't know which is more accurate, just which are more understandable and just better written. In my opinion!!! Obviously a lot of this is subjective. I just... again, I have never really seen this role reversal before. There have absolutely been dubs I liked better their corresponding subs, but never due to the dub being more fun and making more sense. Usually in those cases I just like the VAs' performances better. And yeah, you can't do a lot better than Johnny Yong Bosch, even if some of us are going to hear that voice and feel an inexplicable urge to call the police.