#but it definitely understands when it is powerless

[mipexch]

im not done actually. something wicked is still on the mind

[illycanary]

Katara's Story Is A Tragedy and It's Not An Accident

I was a teenaged girl when Avatar: The Last Airbender aired on Nickelodeon—the group that the show’s creators unintentionally hit while they were aiming for the younger, maler demographic. Nevermind that we’re the reason the show’s popularity caught fire and has endured for two decades; we weren’t the audience Mike and Bryan wanted. And by golly, were they going to make sure we knew it. They’ve been making sure we know it with every snide comment and addendum they’ve made to the story for the last twenty years.

For many of us girls who were raised in the nineties and aughts, Katara was a breath of fresh air—a rare opportunity in a media market saturated with boys having grand adventures to see a young woman having her own adventure and expressing the same fears and frustrations we were often made to feel. 

We were told that we could be anything we wanted to be. That we were strong and smart and brimming with potential. That we were just as capable as the boys. That we were our brothers’ equals. But we were also told to wash dishes and fold laundry and tidy around the house while our brothers played outside. We were ignored when our male classmates picked teams for kickball and told to go play with the girls on the swings—the same girls we were taught to deride if we wanted to be taken seriously. We were lectured for the same immaturity that was expected of boys our age and older, and we were told to do better while also being told, “Boys will be boys.” Despite all the platitudes about equality and power, we saw our mothers straining under the weight of carrying both full-time careers and unequally divided family responsibilities. We sensed that we were being groomed for the same future. 

And we saw ourselves in Katara. 

Katara begins as a parentified teenaged girl: forced to take on responsibility for the daily care of people around her—including male figures who are capable of looking after themselves but are allowed to be immature enough to foist such labor onto her. She does thankless work for people who take her contributions for granted. She’s belittled by people who love her, but don’t understand her. She’s isolated from the world and denied opportunities to improve her talents. She's told what emotions she's allowed to feel and when to feel them. In essence, she was living our real-world fear: being trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood. 

Then we watched Katara go through an incredible journey of self-determination and empowerment. Katara goes from being a powerless, fearful victim to being a protector, healer, advocate, and liberator to others who can’t do those things for themselves (a much truer and more fulfilling definition of nurturing and motherhood). It’s necessary in Katara’s growth cycle that she does this for others first because that is the realm she knows. She is given increasingly significant opportunities to speak up and fight on behalf of others, and that allows her to build those advocacy muscles gradually. But she still holds back her own emotional pain because everyone that she attempts to express such things to proves they either don't want to deal with it or they only want to manipulate her feelings for their own purposes. 

Katara continues to do much of the work we think of as traditionally maternal on behalf of her friends and family over the course of the story, but we do see that scale gradually shift. Sokka takes on more responsibility for managing the group’s supplies, and everyone helps around camp, but Katara continues to be the manager of everyone else’s emotions while simultaneously punching down her own. The scales finally seem to tip when Zuko joins the group. With Zuko, we see someone working alongside Katara doing the same tasks she is doing around camp for the first time. Zuko is also the only person who never expects anything of her and whose emotions she never has to manage because he’s actually more emotionally stable and mature than she is by that point. And then, Katara’s arc culminates in her finally getting the chance to fully seize her power, rewrite the story of the traumatic event that cast her into the role of parentified child, be her own protector, and freely express everything she’s kept locked away for the sake of letting everyone else feel comfortable around her. Then she fights alongside an equal partner she knows she can trust and depend on through the story's climax. And for the first time since her mother’s death, the girl who gives and gives and gives while getting nothing back watches someone sacrifice everything for her. But this time, she’s able to change the ending because her power is fully realized. The cycle was officially broken.

Katara’s character arc was catharsis at every step. If Katara could break the mold and recreate the ideas of womanhood and motherhood in her own image, so could we. We could be powerful. We could care for ourselves AND others when they need us—instead of caring for everyone all the time at our own expense. We could have balanced partnerships with give and take going both ways (“Tui and La, push and pull”), rather than the, “I give, they take,” model we were conditioned to expect. We could fight for and determine our own destiny—after all, wasn’t destiny a core theme of the story?

Yes. Destiny was the theme. But the lesson was that Katara didn’t get to determine hers. 

After Katara achieves her victory and completes her arc, the narrative steps in and smacks her back down to where she started. For reasons that are never explained or justified, Katara rewards the hero by giving into his romantic advances even though he has invalidated her emotions, violated her boundaries, lashed out at her for slights against him she never committed, idealized a false idol of her then browbeat her when she deviated from his narrative, and forced her to carry his emotions and put herself in danger when he willingly fails to control himself—even though he never apologizes, never learns his lesson, and never shows any inclination to do better. 

And do better he does not.

The more we dared to voice our own opinions on a character that was clearly meant to represent us, the more Mike and Bryan punished Katara for it.

Throughout the comics, Katara makes herself smaller and smaller and forfeits all rights to personal actualization and satisfaction in her relationship. She punches her feelings down when her partner neglects her and cries alone as he shows more affection and concern for literally every other girl’s feelings than hers. She becomes cowed by his outbursts and threats of violence. Instead of rising with the moon or resting in the warmth of the sun, she learns to stay in his shadow. She gives up her silly childish dreams of rebuilding her own dying culture’s traditions and advocating for other oppressed groups so that she can fulfill his wishes to rebuild his culture instead—by being his babymaker. Katara gave up everything she cared about and everything she fought to become for the whims of a man-child who never saw her as a person, only a possession.

Then, in her old age, we get to watch the fallout of his neglect—both toward her and her children who did not meet his expectations. By that point, the girl who would never turn her back on anyone who needed her was too far gone to even advocate for her own children in her own home. And even after he’s gone, Katara never dares to define herself again. She remains, for the next twenty-plus years of her life, nothing more than her husband's grieving widow. She was never recognized for her accomplishments, the battles she won, or the people she liberated. Even her own children and grandchildren have all but forgotten her. She ends her story exactly where it began: trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.

The story’s theme was destiny, remember? But this story’s target audience was little boys. Zuko gets to determine his own destiny as long as he works hard and earns it. Aang gets his destiny no matter what he does or doesn’t do to earn it. And Katara cannot change the destiny she was assigned by gender at birth, no matter how hard she fights for it or how many times over she earns it. 

Katara is Winston Smith, and the year is 1984. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight or what you accomplish, little girl. Big Brother is too big, too strong, and too powerful. You will never escape. You will never be free. Your victories are meaningless. So stay in your place, do what you’re told, and cry quietly so your tears don’t bother people who matter.

I will never get over it. Because I am Katara. And so are my friends, sisters, daughters, and nieces. But I am not content to live in Bryke's world.

I will never turn my back on people who need me. Including me.

[cemeterything]

must know ur thoughts on chilchuck tims if you care to share them. he is so so interesting 2 me i need to like ??? trap him in a controlled environment and take ten pages of notes on his behavior

chilchuck!!! chilcharles. mr tims. i have soooooo many thoughts about him; i think he's got so much depth worth exploring in spite of being less of a focal character for much of the story. i also think it's both very funny and a little frustrating how often people take him at face value. which isn't to say that it doesn't make sense, because he works pretty hard to try to convince you to do so. but he's so much more complex than he makes himself out to be. the impression i got from him is that he's definitely been hurt in some extremely deep-cutting, personal ways in the past - not even necessarily by any particular individual, but definitely by the common misconceptions about half-foots based on their stature. endure enough discrimination, and you're not going to be placing your trust in anyone very easily, or allowing yourself to get too attached, especially when that discrimination focuses on how vulnerable and powerless you are comparatively. chilchuck denies his attachment to his friends and loved ones because it scares him; because he knows how easily it can be used against him. he's had no choice but to harden his heart because it's the only way to get people to take him seriously. he can't just drop his guard and let himself relax, no matter how nice and well-intentioned his companions may seem - those good intentions can do just as much, if not more, harm to him and his reputation. he has to have dignity, and if that means misrepresenting himself as a mean, hateful, bitter person who hurts others if they get too close to him, then better that than suffering the humiliation of helplessness again, or realising that he's been taken advantage of for all he's worth. he needs to prove to everyone how capable and self-reliant he is, so that he doesn't risk having that independence stripped from him. so he denies himself, and avoids personal questions, and acts tough, and lashes out. and then the touden party sees right through him, and they stay. they learn to respect his boundaries even if they don't always entirely understand them. they leave the door open for him. and eventually, with much coaxing and false starts and two-steps-forward-one-step-back hesitation, chilchuck allows himself to step across the threshold and open his heart to his desire to be loved again. which doesn't personally affect me in any kind of way because i have nothing at all wrong with me whatsoever.

[nanamiluvs]

hii, how you doing? hope everything is ok <3

can I request a nsfw alphabet for neuvillette? if it’s okay, ofc

hii, thanks for asking :) i hope you're doing good as well !

honestly i'm a firm believer in sub!neuvillette ( or switch ) so i'm sorry if you expected a mainly dominant one ! i just can't imagine him like that he's so babygirl <3

neuvillette nsfw alphabet !

pairing : neuvillette x reader

rating : explicit

wc : 2.0k

warnings : smut content, reader is afab but no pronouns used, reader is human, neuvillette is a dragon, neuvillette has a double dick, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, double penetration in one hole, double penetration in two holes, crying, overstimulation, power play, begging, degrading, not beta read

a : aftercare

neuvillette would be the most affectionate man on earth during aftercare. he struggles to understand normal human needs and desires, but he's trying his best. he will clean your body, hold you in his arms if you want him to and believe me, he wants to, whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you fall asleep. neuvillette himself thinks doesn't require much aftercare, yet he melts in your hands when you pamper him as if he was a mere mortal, not one of the strongest beings in teyvat.

b : body part

neuvillette adores your face. more specifically, your eyes. he finds himself staring at your eyes for hours, just admiring the pure beauty he finds in them. he loves the way your eyes hold so much adoration when they look at him, he loves the way your eyes light up when you laugh. he loves the look on your eyes, shining with tears and ecstasy as you come undone. for himself, neuvillette finds his hands quite elegant, especially when they're glistening with your slick.

c : cum

neuvillette likes seeing his cum on your body, your chest, tummy, your face, oh my god, your face. his cum is probably watery and pretty clear, it tastes so neutral too, like cream without the sweetness. he has a voice in his head that tells him to just come inside, to fill you up with his seed and get you pregnant, to breed you- but neuvillette knows better than to give into those primal instincts of his. he would never do anything that has the possibility of you getting hurt.

d : dirty secret

neuvillette could never tell you that sometimes, he fantasizes about you overstimulating him until he's crying and begging. he wants to feel just powerless beneath your hands. he wants you to degrade him and then tell him how pretty he is as he cums once again. he wants to whine as you crawl on his lap to straddle one of his dicks, sliding the puffy tip in your wet cunt and telling him how well he's been as you wipe his tear-stricken face, pressing your lips against his and swallowing his moans.

e : experience

neuvillette, despite being older than a millennia, doesn't have that much experience when it comes to sex. his inexperience comes as an insecurity, thinking it'd make him appear weak to you. he knows how to mate, of course, but when it comes to the modern ways of intimacy, you have to teach him those.

f : favorite position

neuvillette's favorite position would definitely be one where he can see your face. he wants to look into your eyes even if that makes him embarrassed at times, he wants to make you feel the love he has for you. something like cowgirl's helper when he's on the submissive side, and cat position when he's feeling more dominant.

g : goofy

neuvillette takes sex very seriously and he acts according to that. he most probably definitely won't understand if you make some kind of joke during it. he's either crying from pleasure or fully focused on pleasuring you, there is no inbetween.

h : hair

neuvillette, i think, doesn't have hair growing below. it's more like blue scales getting slightly apparent on his skin down there, harder to the touch yet pretty like the rest of neuvillette. he doesn't care whether you are well-groomed or not, it really makes no difference for him.

i : intimacy

neuvillette, like i said, views sex as a very intimate and romantic act. he finds the idea of being pressed skin against skin with you so comforting. the fact that you're willing to bare yourself to him as he does to you is immaculate for neuvillette. he wouldn't ever do it with just anyone, he wants it because it's you and you only. almost everytime, he's whispering in your ear how much he loves you, how glad he is to be able to be one with you, eyes teary with affection.

j : jack off

neuvillette wasn't used to the concept of masturbation. that is, of course, until he had you as his lover. neuvillette's work consumes most of his time, so it's not become so rare that he touches himself to the thought of you in his office if it's been a long time since he last saw you. he shames himself for it even if you already told him it was okay to do so. he misses you so much that he can't help the bulge growing in his pants.

k : kink

neuvillette is not really a kinky person.

‎ ‎ ‎ double penetration : the idea of pushing all of himself inside you at once drives neuvillette insane. he would never be the one to propose the idea, but he'd be a liar if he said he never fantasized about it. stretching your wet lips as both of his cocks press inside. he can't help but get hard at the thought of you taking all of him in different ways. he knows he, as a dragon, can be too intense for you sometimes- he would never try to do so and hurt you. unless, of course, you beg the chief justice for it.

‎ ‎ ‎ sir : neuvillette could never believe what others call him on a daily basis would turn him on so much when it came from your mouth. sir, monsieur, my lord- it doesn't matter. he just gets off to you treating him like what he is, an authority. he only demands it when he's particularly stressed out.

‎ ‎ ‎ breeding : take a look at this man and tell me he's not into breeding. he wants to breed and to be bred, to have a family with you. he wants to impregnate you so bad, yet when the thought is discussed, his cheeks take on a light shade of pink.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ pegging : neuvillette feels so vulnerable when you push inside of him, one of the most powerful beings in teyvat reduced into a moaning mess beneath you. he's whining and blabbering something you can't understand, you hitting that one spot inside him making his mind numb with pleasure. he definitely did not now he was into pegging before you came along and suggested it.

‎ ‎ ‎ crying : neuvillette. cries. during. it. whether because it's too pleasant or too much, his eyes are watery with tears threatening to fall. he never wants to make you cry, but hell, seeing you in tears from ecstasy makes his dicks twitch. would lick your tears up with pleasure if you let him.

l : location

neuvillette prefers the safety and privacy of your home. he thinks these things should happen in the bedroom and bedroom only. his mind quickly changes once he takes a showet with you, the water surrounding your bodies as he pushes inside of you. also will do it in his office if you demand it, but is very careful to lock any and every doors. he is only yours and you are only his to see.

m : motivation

neuvillette doesn't need anything but sweet whispers from you to continue. the fact that he's the one who pleasures you, the fact that he's the one you want to do this with makes him happier than you could ever imagine.

n : no

neuvillette is a large man. for beginners, he's a dragon. he knows of how powerful he is, of his strength. so anything that might involve using that strength on you is off the table.

o : oral

neuvillette would eat you out for his own pleasure. the taste of your slick makes his hips grind into the bed, begging for friction. his tongue is probably pretty long too, so good luck with that. at this point, he's not even doing it for you- it's for himself. he swears he could get drunk on your taste alone and he probably does. unfortunately or fortunately, by the time he's done and satisfied with lapping up your juices, your legs are shaking with overstimulation. he also loves receiving oral from you, moaning and whining, his words incomprehensible as he pushes your head further down- nevertheless, eating you out will always be his preference.

p : pace

neuvillette is very passionate and sensual when it comes to sex, so rough and fast thrusts won't be the usual. he wants to enjoy every last bit of it.

q : quickie

neuvillette doesn't like quickies unless it's him eating you out or you sucking him off inbetween his cases. he wants to, like i said, take his time with you.

r : risk

neuvillette is not the person if you expect risks. in fact, he's quite scared of them- unless you ask him to do so, it's unlikely for him to propose a new thing.

s : stamina

neuvillette is, a, dragon. your stamina is no match compared to his, he can and will continue for as long as you want him to.

t : toys

neuvillette is foreign to the concept of sex toys, but i don't think he'd be very against them if you proposed the idea. for neuvillette, the only thing that matters is what you want to do with him.

u : unfair

neuvillette usually doesn't tease much but when he does get in the mood to tease, he's a piece of shit at it. he acts completely nonchalant too, as if he hadn't made you cum several times before even sliding a finger inside. on the contrary, he loves to be teased. he loves when you get him so hard he can't think of anything else yet leave without doing something about it. he wants you to overstimulate him, tie him to the bed, treat him like he's miserable.

v : volume

neuvillette is a moaner and a whiner, i don't make the rules. no matter what he's doing or what you're doing, you will hear either his soft moans or high-pitched whines. this man probably fucking moans into your pussy as he eats you out.

w : wild card

neuvillette would come in his pants if you degrade him. he loves you and he loves how wonderful you make him feel, but sometimes he gets so turned on at you treating him like a worthless piece of trash. make him beg, treat him like he's a mere tool for your pleasure and oh god, neuvillette is happy to provide. whatever you want, he will do, for he can willingly be a slave for your desires.

x : x-ray

neuvillette, like i said, has two dicks. i think they're more on the scaly side, not enough to hurt but definitely enough to feel the texture. his skin also shades into a light blue for the shafts and then fades into dark blue as it goes. honestly, neuvillette has two of the prettiest dicks you can ever find. every part of this man is majestic by itself.

y : yearning

neuvillette didn't use to have that much of a sex drive before you. he's still not what you'd call someone with a high sex drive, but he definitely misses doing it after some time. he doesn't need the sex, not really, it's that you're the one he's becoming one with.

z : zzz

neuvillette has the most peaceful sleep ever if he's in your arms or there's you in his arms. especially after sex, he gets so clingy and cuddly with you. will most probably pout if you have something else to do afterwards.

reqs are open !

i mainly write for jjk, hsr & genshin ✩

[solselah]

✨SECRETS ?✨

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PILE 1 : So someone wants to tell you

SO BAD that they are scared of intimacy & being Open !! For them it doesn’t matter WHO you are it has been a persistent issue for them in life. They are trying their best to hide this from you , you can tell they don’t want to sabotage the beginning of something Amazing! They are holding back communicating to you that this is an issue they deal with. They tend to run when things get a little hard & they are TRYING to hold that back from you! They just don’t want to have to move on because of it. Honestly your understanding would touch them in a way they never felt before , prompting them to at least try to be transparent!! They are afraid of the karma they will receive from keeping this from you !! You can always ask to have a conversation and see how that goes as far as I see , it can go pretty well & encourage healthy habits!!

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PILE 2:

Awee this is so adorable !!!

You have a lover or crush who secretly is in love with you (Too?) but the love where it’s so Mushy so sweet & pure!! They speak to their guides & ancestors/God about you!! They explain to them that you take such good care of yourself & Your just the definition of love for them! They leave this a secret because they want the seduction to like never END ! It just spices the dynamic up 100% they secretly watch you , definitely does not seem weird more so like if you’re walking by they are checking you out! they are looking for sure! You’re what we would call a

“secret lover”✨

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PILE 3: soooo …. I’m getting two scenarios one is that There is some one intending to do magic on you !! I’m getting their name starts with the following

(N,L,S,U,D,C) for this next scenario you could be practicing mirror magic or Doing beauty spells which currently help your self love journey out 100%!!

I’m also seeing someone could be jealous of the results of these spells … it seems to also be some form of mirror magic / Beauty magic they want to “Reverse” I truly hear that someone is jealous of your looks! You’re looking like a baddie always / your looking handsome always & they really just can’t take it! The energy I’m feeling from them is Very bored & Powerless! Like this attempt to Put magic on you … or attempt to reverse yours!

this persons magic WILL NOT dare leave the 3D haha ! Little do they know your ANGELS are on GO ! & you have this natural connection to KALI MA who has been fighting these battles alongside you those that you can’t see fully ! Don’t you even worry. This persons magic is so petite & kind of already Got blocked by their own guides 😬 that’s how you know it’s petty!!

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PILE 4:

The secret being hidden from you is the change you’re about to go through !! I’m not permitted to say too much but I will say it will have everything to do with public scenery , Party scene , and entertainment!! You will be stepping out a zone you haven’t left since maybe high school or even middle school for some !! This will change your personality and character for the better !! People wont even recognize your maturity and new zeal for life !! I’m so excited for you to experience this change and enjoy it as much as you can !! Later in life things will slow down in the sweetest way! For those who have been apartment hunting and looking for a HOUSE , this is coming in sooner than you think!! Also quick reminder to Someone make sure you Update your important information

License , certificates , Paper work etc , you may have someone who wants to double check so I would even make some copies if possible! Its always Beneficial to be over prepared than to be unprepared in totality. :)

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Hope you enjoy ✨

IG: @soleccentric

[shirecorn]

so how did celestia...show up? cause she definitely ain't fitting inside that room

The gods don't speak to us. Even though legend says they used to be ponies, everyone who could have borne witness died or vanished millennia go. They say Starswirl the Bearded was The Sisters' teacher before they ascended. Most think he was a prophet, chosen by the gods to enact their will.

Being chosen is not necessarily a good thing. Though the gods are benevolent when they deign to notice our affairs, that does not mean they are gentle.

I pray that their attention passes and your daughter can return to her studies, to a mundane life she already enjoys.

You see, the sun spoke to me.

The day of her admission to our school, something shimmered in the air. I came to know later that it was a rambunctious foal in Cloudsdale who managed to rip a hole in the magic layer with her speed. It seems that day was packed with the whispers of destiny, if you believe in that.

Regardless, the sun hung in the sky a little longer that day. And the next. The great mare that ferried it across the sky seemed to pause, and look in our direction.

I have a confession to make.

The entrance exam was a farce. Most of it was real, but the dragon egg was not. We don't have an endless supply of dragon eggs with which to test students. We have rocks.

The point of this part of the exam was to test applicant's critical thinking. They're supposed to ask where we got the egg, they're supposed perform some examination spell on the stone, they're supposed to heat it or turn it or explain that incubation is a long and unpredictable process. They're supposed to come up with a plan when just pointing at it doesn't work.

They are not supposed to hatch it.

I don't know what your daughter did, or how, but she split the rock in two and either found or formed a baby dragon inside it.

I have a theory; we all have theories. Based on what the sun seems to think, I believe Twilight Sparkle was achingly alone, and conjured for herself a friend within that stone. We have done our best to help her raise her foundling and study at the same time, but the sun streaming in through the window watches our every move.

She summoned me at sunrise, with her voice in my head, to tell me what I already knew. That your daughter is something special, and I am to nurture her in the study of magic. It feels like a gift, something I'm sure you felt too the day she was born. A gift... and a burden to bring someone like that into the world.

Creating a lesson plan with the input of a goddess is definitely a challenge to one's sanity.

I don't know what the goddess plans to do with young Twilight Sparkle, but I am afraid we are powerless to stop it. I could understand if you wanted to withdraw her from the school and try to forget all of this; I would even advise it if I thought it were possible.

But you cannot hide from the sun.

You can only hope she grows bored of such tiny things

and sets again in the west.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Since laryngitis is not contagious I told Will he should definitely come to work today. Especially now that the Ripper dropped a body. He doesn't need to talk much. He can do his thing and then write a report on it." Jack explained to Hannibal as they arrived at the crime scene. "No one gets hurt and we get even closer to catching the Ripper."

"It's quite cold today." Hannibal commented as a tiny snow flake landed on his palm. "Will agreed I suppose?"

"He did, yes. But we have only been texting so I am not sure what state he actually is in."

Will was already there, next to Beverly, looking around the crime scene, examining something in particular. He was so focused that he didn't even hear Hannibal and Jack.

"Will." Hannibal greeted him. To that Will and Beverly turned to them.

"Will can't speak. Like, at all. I am doing the talking for him today." Beverly explained. Will rolled his eyes helplessly. "He is not thrilled about it but I can do a pretty good job."

"He definitely should not force himself." Hannibal agreed, frowning in concern. If Will was not making any effort to talk then it definitely meant his voice was gone. His usual strategy of ignoring any symptoms he would have did not work in this case.

Jack sighed loudly, probably understanding that Will should have indeed stayed home to rest instead of standing outside in negative temperatures.

"He wants to say that your coat looks majestic, Dr. Lecter." Beverly commented. "Jack, I'm not allowed to say what Will thinks about you at this very moment. I really want to keep my job."

Will didn't protest to any of the things Beverly said and pulled out a little bottle of pills. Hannibal was wondering if Will knew that aspirin won't help that much with getting back his voice. Was his throat sore as well? Probably. Will wouldn't complain about stuff like that even when his voice was perfectly fine.

Hannibal wished he would know that kind of things.

He wished Will would allow him to care for him.

That is why as soon as they were done with the crime scene, he asked Will to get into his car instead of Beverly's. He wanted to open his mouth to protest but the stern look on Hannibal's stern expression made him abandon his attempt to force his larynx.

As soon as they arrived at Hannibal's place, he started making some tea in a navy blue kettle.

"Ginger and chamomile tea does wonders for a sore throat." He explained as Will followed him with his eyes around the kitchen.

Will felt partially powerless and partially grateful. He could admit to himself that other than popping pills, he usually did nothing about feeling sick. He mostly took medication to function at work, he wouldn't need those at home.

"Thank you." He whispered.

Hannibal felt something warm inside himself at hearing his voice for the first time that day.

"You should have told- well, wrote Jack that you are too sick to work, Will. Just so you know, I'm not expecting you for our therapy session tomorrow." Hannibal said as he moved the cattle away from the electric stove.

"No, I can do it." Will whispered a bit louder and coughed immediately after.

"Therapy implies having conversations. And by canceling your appointment I don't mean that I don't want to see you tomorrow. You should definitely come here for dinner." Hannibal went on while pouring tea in two cups. "Sitting with you in silence is not something that I dread."

Will smiled at that. When it came to the two of them, silence was indeed not an obstacle. There was always something to project and something to observe.

Hannibal added a generous spoon of honey in Will's cup and none in his own.

Will opened his mouth to say something more but he coughed again. Hannibal passed him a note book and a pen.

"We can pass notes."

"How romantic" Will wrote to that, earning a genuine smile from Hannibal. Then he kept on writing and then handed the notebook back Hannibal.

"Since I can't talk and you insist on having me around I can finally do what you've been asking me for ages."

"And what have I been asking you for ages?" Hannibal asked curiously as he gave Will the notebook.

"You can draw me in your sketchbook and I promise not to move or make any comment about how boring it is." He wrote back and raised his eyebrows, watching Hannibal's expression as he was reading his words.

"Are you sure?" Hannibal asked trying to conceal his excitement behind a satisfied expression. He was already picturing each pencil or charcoal he could use.

Will nodded.

[piracytheorist]

I feel like something that gets overlooked when analyzing Yuri's excessive feelings for his sister is that when it comes to the Forgers, he distrusts Loid but isn't jealous of him; the one he's jealous of is Anya.

Like, I see people interpret his feelings for Yor as creepy, weird and inappropriate when in reality it's just that they're mixed between seeing her as his naive big sister and seeing her as his primary caregiver. His main motive driving him forward and into the extremism of the State Security Service is making the country a safe space for her to live in, but at the same time he gets all elated when he gets to spend time with her. Hence why he's distrusting of Loid - because he doesn't know for sure if Loid is a safe person for Yor to be around - and jealous of Anya - because she gets to have all the fun with Yor that he once had as a kid.

As he says, when he was little he felt so powerless to do anything to help her that the moment he was able to be financially independent he jumped at the opportunity, probably hoping that if he became independent then Yor wouldn't need work herself bloody for his sake. So circumstances led him to getting further and further away from her - both in a physical sense as his job requires him to spend a lot of time away, and emotionally as he lies to her about what he's truly doing - and I think he hasn't realized how much that has impacted him emotionally. Spy x Family is a story all about human connection. It makes sense that someone who adores his big sister and feels indebted to her for sacrificing her teenage years (and in his view, her well-being) will be having issues upon becoming distanced from said sister. I don't think I need to say it's not a mature thing to be jealous of a first-grader.

Of course, I'm not condemning him. He definitely has a lot of space to grow, I just think it's interesting and very on-topic to show how Yuri has been impacted from the distance his job forced him to keep from Yor. But because he's a little less mature in that area, he blames Loid and Anya for keeping Yor away from him, when it's his own choices that put the distance between them.

Like, for all intents and purposes, he's distrusting of Loid because he doesn't know him very well and because Loid was very suddenly introduced to him as Yor's husband, not even just as a boyfriend. He is fine with Yor having a partner, as long as Yuri knows said partner is a decent enough person (decent according to his standards, at least). And with his circumstances, that's completely understandable - not fully excused, but way more human than people give him credit for.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[mochalate]

"ghosts" ; postwar!levi/reader w/c: 700 ; fluff/angst

unlike levi, you're physically whole, but you seem to have lost some pieces of yourself too

“Do you want milk in your tea?” you ask, firing up the stove.

Levi pretends there isn’t a lump in his throat. “No.” 

He remembers you asking him this question before, in another life. One where the monsters didn’t only show up at night; where you knew what they looked like without him having to tell you. 

Where you remember he hates milk in his tea.

Levi fears he's being greedy, wishing for you to remember. He’s been doing nothing but wishing for the last few months— how long until the universe takes away everything it’s given him this time, like he’s a spoiled child having his playthings confiscated after a tantrum? 

He tries to be grateful. You survived that fall from the Founding Titan’s spines. Someone, somewhere had listened when he’d held your hand and prayed for you to wake up, to look at him just one more time, so he could apologise for not being there to catch you. He’d wanted nothing more than to hear you say his name again. So what if you'd ended up saying it like a question?

Levi watches you set his cup down in front of him, smiling. You’re always smiling now, far more than before. It makes him worry he’s being selfish, wanting you to get better. Wouldn’t he choose to forget too? All of the death and the destruction, from the underground to the coast of Marley; and the powerlessness to stop any of it?

He tries to tell himself he would, but he knows it’s a lie. What else did he have to show for all of it, if not for those memories?

“Have you remembered anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, Levi.”

“Don’t apologise. You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

You bite your lip— just like you always did. That’s what gives him this devastating, soul-gouging hope, every day. How you’re still you. You still like sweet things more than salty ones, and your spoon still produces the same clinking melody when you stir the sugar into your tea. 

He allows the wound to reopen itself every morning after you ask to start sleeping next to him again, because he wakes up with your head tucked against his shoulder just like he remembers. He knows everything is still in there, buried somewhere inside your body; because on some nights, you cry and struggle in your sleep, running from things that won’t ever chase you anymore. 

Levi selfishly wakes you up, to ask you again and again if you remember, but you never do. 

Pieck had visited once, back from one of their peace-mongering trips. They weren’t working, she’d told him. She’d heard all about him from his brats in the 104th, and thought he would have some sage wisdom; or at least understand what it felt like to lose hope in something you believed in.

He couldn’t supply either of those things.

Pieck was smart, he’ll give her that. She had understood immediately. 

“I always felt,” she’d said, “that it was the worst thing in the world to not have any scars to show. But at least I could explain what was wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Levi had replied. It was true.

Pieck had hummed. “There’s definitely something wrong with you though, captain. Who thinks waking their wife up from a nightmare is selfish?”

It's selfish, because Levi feels like what he wakes you up into must be the real nightmare, lying next to a strange man who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.

"What's got you worried?" you ask him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

He's worried you'll realise he could just be a bad dream, if that's what you wanted. "I'm not worried."

"You're quiet."

"I'm always quiet."

You laugh. He realises your cup is already half-empty, and his is untouched.

"You're quiet, but not like this. Penny for your thoughts?"

You give him a smile that's as lovely as always, as lovely as it's always been. He knows he could fall in love with that smile as many times as it took. And when you reach for his hand, he wants to believe you'll allow him to, even if it's just for today.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed. :) check out my other stuff?

Divider @/cafekitsune

[cannellee]

Hi. This is about the alpha South x omega x alpha Mikey post for clarity.

Imagine how furious alpha Mikey would be if he found out that alpha South already got omega (name) pregnant.

I think he would go nuts lmao

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! south x omega! reader x yandere!alpha! mikey (read this for more context)

— mikey finds out you're pregnant with south's kid

cw : delusional mikey, violence, slight breeding kink, baby trapping

a/n : btw I don't like yanderes who are violent towards their s/o, so mikey acts sweetly towards reader even though that might not be a representative reaction!! I hope you'll still enjoy!

MY MASTERLIST: ☆

it would definitely not end well for any of you.

while dating south, you were in such a vulnerable state of mind that you got carried away. he showered you with the affection you came to miss and crave when you were with mikey and you honestly didn't give too much thought about what you were doing with south at night...

it wasn't surprising for you to end up the way you did, little bump on your stomach, which you always caressed and touched after you learned the news.

south was fine with having his omega pregnant, only thing which prevented him from being fully happy was his worry for your safety.

now imagine you left mikey's side for more than two months, so that your belly could show a little. you're growing more and more stressed because of south's behaviour, it's suspicious and weird and with your hormones being all over the place, you're feeling even more distressed.

when you follow him and are met with the most unexpected sight, your breathing quickens and your scent couldn't be more sour. you were sensitive before, but now that you were pregnant that's another story.

when you threw yourself on south, all mikey could feel was pure anger and grabbed your arms roughly to pry you off of him.

yes you were fragile, mikey knew that. but when you fell on your side after he simply pushed you away, he flinched at the pained whine you involuntarily let out.

he looked at you, confused and worried. albeit his initial rage, he managed to decipher your scent between all the strong pheromones of all the alphas out there. it was sweet, sugary and very soft. mikey would've recognisable it with no efforts.

but something wasn't right, something was different. you watched as he breathed through his nose, frown deepening at the foreign aroma around you. your strawberry pheromones were all over the place and decoupled, and among it, a nice new smell of pink sugar grazed his nostrils.

it smelled divinely good, but most importantly, it stirred up mikey's instincts in an abnormal way. he felt on edge, protective thoughts circling in his mind. it's like you wanted everyone to be aware of how fragile you were, to have them know you were powerless and in need of reassurance.

and when mikey looked you up and down, that's when he noticed your slightly round belly, a protective hand over it.

wide eyes, mikey took a while before actually understanding what exactly he was seeing, completely shocked. he questioned you with his eyes, hoping you would simply shake your head 'no' and grace him with the answer he wanted to hear. but you didn't and he couldn't feel more enraged.

he furiously looked at south and wasted no time in showering him with punches. all his yelling hurt your poor ears as your hands did nothing at trying to cover the noise.

mikey was unstoppable as he screamed profanities at south, promising him to never let him go unless he was perfectly sure he would never touch you again.

not only did you run away from him and gave yourself to another alpha, but that bastard even had the audacity to get you fucking pregnant. the marks mikey had left on your body months ago were deep enough to surely be still present ; it was a clear indicator that you were somebody else's. anyone would have backed off and refuse to have sex with you. but this asshole just had to ignore all those claims and deliberately court his omega.

mikey was simply blinded with rage as he hit him relentlessly, aiming for south's weak spots, wrecking his limp body as much as he could.

you couldn't muster the courage to move and you had no choice but to witness mikey's terrifying actions. you were still on the floor, silently sobbing because of the more than monstrous scene in front of you.

fortunately, your current state had made your scent more easily detectable so that you could communicate your desires and troubles better with your alpha during such a vulnerable time.

it flew right to mikey's nose, instincts to take care of his omega took over him and he found the control in himself to actually stop his butchery.

you saw mikey whip his head towards you, instantly letting go of south's bruised body. he slowly came up to you, disapproval written all over his face and urge to take you away from here eating him up alive.

he couldn't get his eyes off of your belly when he helped you sit down properly. he didn't know how to feel about this. be mad at you ? get into an argument with you to convey just how fucking furious he was ?

truthfully, you weren't to blame here, mikey thought. you were just a poor omega seeking comfort, south was the one who took advantage of you. he exploited your need for a strong presence next to you when mikey couldn't give you that.

you could've said anything to deny his words, mikey was clearly not admitting that it was a choice you made consciously. his lovely omega would have never betrayed him this much.

amidst the chaos, he couldn't think properly and instead chose to end his fight with south. he had to make sure you were safely taken away from south's greedy hands, in mikey's home where it was definitely the safest for you to stay considering your condition.

you should be cocooned by your alpha inside a warm nest, safe and sound and surrounded by reassuring items. but instead you're out there in the wild, all alone and unsupervised and trying to stop a fight right in the middle of a place crowed with thousands of alphas.

mikey was fuming, absolutely devastated by how poorly you were taken care of and the rage he felt was incomparable to anything he had ever felt.

he knew he would have done a better job at protecting you and while he had that tiny hope the baby inside you was his, at this time it really didn't matter in his eyes.

all he could see was your shaking form, forehead sweating from how much pressure you were under. your alpha was supposed to provide you anything, shelter you and protect you, especially during such a precious moment of pure vulnerability.

but here you were. you couldn't count on anybody and mikey's heart shattered upon seeing your tear-stained face and defenceless arms desperately trying to defend your poor excuse of an alpha.

he carefully carried you away from this place, placing a jacket over you to prevent you from getting sick.

you had no words to say in this situation, you simply had to follow what mikey wanted and considered to be the right thing.

he placed you gently on the soft bed, showering you with his clothes to remove all foreign smells from you. mikey had to claim you again, make sure you were scented from head to toe. this is what good alphas do to soothe their omegas after all!

and this was his priority at the moment. to put you to sleep, get your mind off of south and all the problems he brought to you.

you were easier to manipulate as the hormones of pregnancy made your omega more receptive to the orders and voice of an alpha. you could try and fight off your instincts, mikey still had the upper hand and wouldn't give up until you obeyed and followed what he considered as the best choice right now. you needed rest and that's what you were gonna get.

and the hectic day soon got the best of you that you finally dozed off, calmly breathing in the familiar scent of mikey's sheets.

your sleeping figure helped mikey release a bit of tension, knowing his omega was right where she belonged and that her future pup was in good hands.

all that remained to be done now was to get your stuff back from south's apartment and take care of south himself. there was no way he was gonna let some stranger be the father of your kid. you belonged to mikey and by extension, the child you bore was also his, he wouldn't have it any other way.

he'll go out his way to find south again and prevent him from claiming your child, probably aiming to kill him in the process. mikey was going to be the only support in your life, the only pillar you'll need. he'll be the only one present during your pregnancy, guaranteeing you to never let you feel hurt or scared ever again.

you won't go out again as well, he saw how today affected you and quickly understood it was all too much for your poor little pregnant omega heart. too sensitive and emotional...

mikey will force you to stay still, waiting at home for him until you finally give birth. his instincts are so strong and overwhelming, he'll enter a blind rage if his omega isn't cocooned in the warmth and safety of her nest, in her alpha's home.

he's actually somehow glad you got pregnant, although he would have preferred to be the biological father. but now he has a great excuse to keep you by his side. he exploits your weaknesses and lack of financial support to insert himself into your life for good. he scares you into thinking you need him to keep you safe, that alphas will rush to hurt you once they learn you're this helpless and trying to raise a kid on your own.

he'll definitely get you pregnant soon after you give birth, wanting a kid of his own blood. he's so deep into a possessive state of mind that he wants nothing more than to see you all cutely waddle around the house because of the seeds he put into you. he wants to claim you in the most primal way. his intentions are mostly triggered by your past with south but also because he feels like baby trapping you is the most efficient way to keep you right next to him.

in the end, mikey's commitment towards you will grow significantly in the future. once south is disposed of, he'll purely focus on you, knowing nothing will ever get in between the two of you ever again.

[bunny-yan]

Will there be other part for delinquent Yandere? I want to know how they develop 👀

you ask, i supply.

can't say if your relationship is "developing" but both your mindsets are definitely making progress!

yan!delinquent x gn!reader TW: violence, bullying, general yandere themes, blood,

—

The library became a place of refuge when you couldn’t be bothered to deal with Sax’s clinginess under the guise of protection and needed a quick place that you could get lost in whenever his ex-girlfriend and her followers sought you out for undeserved revenge. 

It was a waste of time. You could run for as long as you wanted, but there was no avoiding him. He’d wait outside for you to arrive to school, playing the caring boyfriend who couldn’t wait to spend the day with you. 

His hands would wrap themselves around your waist so you couldn’t run away from him as you slinked through the double doors. Sax offered platitudes that you willfully ignored, not that it deterred him. He continued his show, letting others know of his claim over you—not that anyone was unaware of your unfortunate circumstance—and angering others. He paraded you through the halls, making a show of his nonchalance by not acknowledging any of the eyes that followed the two of you through the halls. 

Making your daily stop at your locker, you grit your teeth when he wouldn’t even give you the space to enter the combination to your lock and pull it open, grabbing books you needed for the classes you had today. 

Instead, he watched, resting his head on your shoulder as you grabbed your books before reaching around to slam your locker closed. The hands at your waist turned you around before you were being pushed against the metal lockers, books held close to your chest as you watched him warily. 

“I’m going to be late to class.” you grumbled, eyes searching for an impossible escape as he leaned closer to shorten the distance between the two of you. It was useless to look to other people for help. The minute your eyes met theirs, they would glance away, pretending as if the spectacle he created didn’t exist. 

“There’s no rush.” he said, bringing a hand to fiddle with the collar of your shirt. “The teachers like me. They’ll understand.”

He leaned in closer, stopping an inch away from your face when you brought your books up to block him. You couldn’t stop him from harassing you, but there was no way you were going to play along with this fake relationship. 

“But I don’t.” Looking over your books, you glared at him. “Can you lay off? It’s too early in the morning for me to have to deal with this.”

The smile didn’t leave his face as he narrowed his eyes. Bringing a hand up, he used it to force you to lower the books from your face, ignoring the strength you used to resist him. 

He didn’t lean closer, didn’t move to touch you, his eyes simply flitted back and forth between yours. He wanted you to feel powerless. To prove that if he really wanted to, he could easily take advantage of you. 

The slight fear that gripped your insides wasn’t enough to obviate the glare you pinned him with. 

After making his point, he released your books, giving a smirk as he placed his hands in his pockets and walked away. “I’ll pick you up after class.” he said, parting with a wave without looking back. 

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t want to see him after your class was over. You didn’t want to feel his arms forcing you into an embrace and imitating affection when it was clear you wanted nothing to do with him. You wished you could tell him he could go fuck himself, but you knew better. You could say all those things and more and he’d laugh before acting as if you hadn’t said anything at all. You wouldn’t waste your breath. 

As you sat through your lecture, you wondered how long his interest in you would remain. Surely, you weren’t going to have to deal with his pestering for the rest of the school year. He was a year above you so you felt that at the very least, you’d have to put up with it for a couple months and then he’d move on with his life without you in it. Things wouldn’t go back to how they were. Others would still avoid you for having been so heavily involved with such an intimidating figure and the harassment was sure to continue since most of her followers were in your grade, but it would be a lot better without him aggravating the situation. 

A headache began to form the longer you thought about the impossibility for peace in a situation like yours. 

You needed a break. 

Raising your hand, you asked the teacher if you could go to the bathroom. They paid little attention as you gathered your things and left the classroom. You had to move quicker than their fingers could fly as they reported your movements to their posse. 

They’d think you were going to the bathroom since you announced it to the class, but you were going a floor above to the library. It wasn’t the biggest, but it had more than enough space to get lost in. 

It would all be for nothing if one of her little spies caught you in the act, but all you needed was a moment to pull yourself together. 

You went a good way through before you found a random section to hunker down in. 

Dropping your bag, you sunk to the ground as you held your head in your hands. 

You were fine. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

Just two more months and he would be gone. 

Two more months and you wouldn’t constantly be looking for places to hide. 

You were going to be fine. 

“So fucking annoying.” 

You looked up at the sound of the voice and as Sax’s ex-girlfriend’s posse got closer, you got to your feet. 

“You don’t have anywhere to run. Your little boyfriend isn’t here to protect you.”

At their words, you felt something snap inside of you.  

Your fist flung out. 

You weren’t going to let them corner you in the library. You were glad you’d chosen a section that had opened shelves because the moment they rushed at you. You felt no remorse as your fist grazed one person’s cheek before striking someone else. Thinking of all of the abuse you’d endured for months, thinking of what you went through with Sax being your only option for momentary peace, you thought it only fair that they experience a taste of what you were forced to endure. 

It was clear that they hadn’t expected you to fight back. 

Hands scrambled to grab you, clawing at your arms and side, but you weren’t going to let them get a firm grip on you. You yanked away from the hands that were pulling at your shirt, elbowing the closest person in the face as hard as you could. It was a flurry of limbs as they tried to subdue you, but you wouldn’t let them. 

After being so docile to avoid pain during your initial run-ins they saw you as an easy target, but you weren’t going to give them one. You wouldn’t roll over and let them do as they pleased. 

If they were set on making your life a living hell, you’d drag them down to the depths of it. 

You were done being someone else’s victim. 

This continued, you wincing when they managed to get a good hit in or when nails scraped across your skin. 

You didn’t think about the possibility of their situations. You had tried to be sympathetic, thinking that she could’ve threatened to ruin their lives if they didn’t do her bidding, but it didn’t take long for you to stop giving a fuck. One too many hits in the head. 

Your kindness had run out. 

They yelled at you, or as close as they could get since they didn’t want to draw attention to the scuffle going on, calling you a whore, a coward. As if they weren’t jumping you as a group. 

You didn’t see her so you’d assumed they planned on taking you to a second location so they could beat the hell out of you in peace, but it wasn’t going to happen. 

It was clear they were beginning to get tired out. They looked disheveled and out of breath. If you could just hold out a little longer, it would be over and you would win. 

You lashed out with your fist when you felt a hand grab your shoulder, gasping when that same hand close around your wrist, but a bit of the fear ebbed away when you looked into Sax’s surprised eyes. 

“Wait, fuck! No. It was a reflex. Do it again.” he asked eagerly. 

You didn’t question the absurdity of the situation. If he wanted you to hit him, he didn’t have to tell you twice. 

Yanking your hand away, you cocked your arm back, bringing the full weight of your fist down as you thought of all of the harassment you endured from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

Your fist met his face with a sickening crunch and  you winced at the pain in your fist. It felt like nothing as you watched him stagger back, covering his face as blood began to flow from his nose like a waterfall. It had to have been the most satisfying thing you’d done since coming to this school, but it didn’t last long. 

The crazed look in his eyes paired with his bloody smile told you, things weren’t going to go the way you wanted. 

The girls looked on in shock as you struggled against his hold on you. They’d retreated after noticing your protector, gritting their teeth at having to report back that they failed. You would’ve felt smug if your situation hadn’t gone from bad to worse.

Lashing out, you didn’t have enough time to defend yourself as his hand grabbed your wrist once again to yank you closer. You slammed into his body, arms pinned to your sides as lips mashed and his teeth clattered against yours and despite your struggled he didn't allow you to pull away from him. 

The kiss tasted like copper, unreasonably wet, and you couldn’t figure out whether the blood you tasted was his or yours from the impact.

 It was disgusting. 

You struggled in his hold, your protests muffled by his mouth and tongue that he forced into your mouth the moment you gave him the opportunity. In anger, you bit down eliciting a groan from him as he pulled you closer. You tensed at the feeling of something hard pressing into you, your struggle beginning with a new fervor. 

You arched your back to pull your face away from his, pushing at his shoulders. 

“Get your hands off of me!”

His arms remained wrapped around your waist, begging for you to come closer. 

“Fuck,” he said, voice breathless as he looked at you with bewildered eyes. “I think I love you.”

You wanted to hit him again. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Shouldn’t have given him what he wanted, but you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to get back at him for everything he put you through. 

“I hate you.” you growled, feeling a sudden hopelessness as he refused to let you go. You felt the strength in your arms go out, not because you lost the strength but because you couldn’t stand the mental gymnastics you were forced to endure due to unwavering disregard for your say in the matter. 

“I hate you.” you said again, knowing your words didn’t get through to him as he continued to pull you closer, forcing you into an embrace.

Clenching the shirt at his shoulders in your fist, you bit your lip, a fresh wave of blood flooding your sense. 

“I hate you.”

[communistkenobi]

Obviously art does not rest on methods, media, or the amount of effort a person exerted in making it, but I think AI art is yet another way that capitalism is changing the form and function of art (separating artworks from their original meaning on a different and even larger scale) and given that it is made by exploiting workers (the original artists and the people they pay pennies to sort through it to remove disturbing images) it makes people feel yet more powerless in the face of corporations so there is a big negative reaction to it. This negative reaction may not be articulated in the way you want but I think it's very understandable that people have reactionary feelings about large scale corporate exploitation.

just for the record before I respond, I am replying to this ask in good faith just as you are asking in good faith, I’m not angry at you and many of these questions I’m asking are rhetorical, for the purposes of reflection. So please no slapfighting in the notes, thank you!

First: I’m not disputing exploitation. in fact privileging AI as uniquely exploitative handwaves away the massive amount of exploitation that artists already endure and have endured for a very long time, as well as the horrific amounts of labour exploitation involved in mass producing the ‘tools of the trade’ so to speak.

But this is, again, a non-sequitur to my argument, which is that art produced under exploitative, destructive, “lazy” or politically repugnant conditions is still art. MCU films are art regardless of the fact that they are 3-hour long informercials for the American empire and require massive labour exploitation from CGI animators, actors, film set workers, and everything else: advertisements are art: AI art is art. Horrifying, trite, unoriginal, bad, socially destructive, maybe all of those things are true and we can talk about the merits of those claims (I certainly have strong opinions about them), but what is politically gained from saying bad, unoriginal, horrifying, or trite art isn’t art? Whose definitions are we using here, and if those definitions should be universalised, what does it mean for artists who are only unoriginal, only bad, only whatever else?

I return to my original example: are children not qualified to be artists if they only make “bad” art? I used to trace movie stills from Harry Potter photo books as a child because I loved the characters - am I a fraud for doing so? Am I given grace for my incompetence and “theft” on the basis of me “still learning how to do real art”? When does this grace period end? If we argue that only struggle can produce art, what level of struggle? Struggle for whom? Drawing isn’t difficult for me because I was taught how to hold a pencil, read, write, and draw by a western industrial publicly-funded primary school by a teacher paid with public tax dollars, supplemented with help every night from my mother and father, two married cishet middle class people in a mostly stable (if miserable and verbally abusive) marriage - all of which is resting atop stolen indigenous land. Under what historical conditions can arguments for artistic struggle be made? When we argue for struggle(/hard work/whatever) as the basis of art we are pre-supposing a universal subject whose struggle is globally standardized and calculable - which in all of these discussions on here is (implicitly, though sometimes explicitly) a white able-bodied settler living in a western state who benefits from universal primary education that teaches them the foundational skills of how to make art. You can probably add university educated to that too, given how many of these arguments seem to be swarmed by undergraduate students.

Arguing that there needs to be some threshold for method, labour, intent, or message for art to ‘actually be art’ is politically reactionary and is what I am responding to. It requires transcendental claims about the Artist as a unique labourer set apart from and superior to all others, one whose skills are universalised and whose intent is always observable and present in their work. So if people want to talk about exploitation they should talk about exploitation, not the definition of art. It’s not my fault people can’t stay on topic!

[i-was-a-teenage-eldritch-horror]

I (unwisely) recently logged on to the website formerly known as Twitter, and was immediately greeted with more eva fandom misogynist apologia on the for you tab. Will this ever end?

Equating Shinji's misogynistic actions towards Asuka (and his more subtle misogyny towards Rei and Misato) to Asuka being rude and abrasive to Shinji is just absurd. Is Asuka rude? Yes. Does she have poor social skills? 100%. But Asuka is not a bully, period. Why? Bullying, like abuse, is about power structures. The only character more powerless than Asuka in this show is Rei. Asuka has no adults on her side. Misato favors Shinji because he reminds her of her father wound and neglects Asuka because she reminds her of the feminine parts of herself (read: her unhealthy interactions with men and boys, particularly Kaji and Shinji, which, ironically, stem from her father wound). Or have we forgotten about this scene? Similarly, once Kaji arrives in Japan, he also begins neglecting Asuka in favor of Shinji.

In addition to Shinji's mistreatment of her, Asuka's also experiencing culture shock (compounded by the fact that she's functionally illiterate in Japanese, since she canonically can't read kanji) and the fact that Kensuke was literally manufacturing and distributing csam material of her (and other girls!). Asuka also lacks the protective Eva Unit that Shinji benefits from at almost every turn. The only ally Asuka has is Hikari, who is an ordinary girl with no power over any of the things that are harming or have harmed Asuka.

The smoking gun here is the fact that Shinji is fantastically unfazed by Asuka (who, it must be said, makes several attempts to be kind to Shinji -- which he typically shuts down). Until eoe, the most emotion that he shows around her is when he's understandably upset that she moved into his room while he was at school, and even then he's not upset with Asuka, he's moreso upset at the situation. When he does finally get angry at her in eoe, it's because she was honest with him about how he hurts her and how she does not want to help him (to be clear: she's not obligated to).

Besides that, he nonchalantly tells her not to speak to him that way, or confesses to another character that he finds her bothersome or annoying. There is no real evidence that Asuka has any significant, negative impact on Shinji's psyche the way an actual bully would have on their victim; no, the characters who have the most negative impact on Shinji are Gendo, Yui, and Misato.

What empowers bullies of any age in real life is a power structure (be it at a school, workplace, or in the home) that is negligent towards the victim. There is a reason why school bullies tend to be star athletes, high academic achievers, or exceptionally well-liked (by students, staff, or both) students -- it's because these students often come from privileged backgrounds and/or are aligned with the power structure of the school. Power empowers, go figure.

Misato's treatment of Shinji is definitely not admirable (let's not forget that by the end of the series, Misato has assaulted Shinji); but it's not neglectful. She's very concerned with and involved with his inner life, albeit for selfish reasons. Conversely, Misato knows every ounce of Asuka's pain (rewatch the end of episode 10) and still neglects her! Keeping both Asuka and Shinji in the same household after episode 9 was a mistake on Misato's part. A good, competent caretaker would've discussed the issue (the nonconsensual kiss) with them both separately with the end result being one or both of them moving out into the dorm-like housing that NERV has.

Point being is that the power structure exclusively benefits Shinji relative to Asuka. Despite also suffering as a child soldier and a victim of trauma and abuse, he is privileged relative to Asuka due to how the adults who have power over him and Asuka favor him through their interactions.

Finally, eoe beats us over the head with how uncompassionate Shinji is towards Asuka, Rei, and Misato. Characters who just to happen to be...women and girls. Huh. How about that? It's almost like there's a message there. Although there are a few moments in the show where it's suggested that Shinji ought to empathize more with boys and men like Toji, Kaji, and Gendo (suggestions to empathize with Gendo tend to come from Rei in particular, which I'm not a huge fan of, for the record, but I also recognize that this is Rei imparting her own perspective regarding her own internal journey of questioning onto Shinji), the fact that in eoe, the piece that marks the end of the series, much of the narrative focuses on Shinji's treatment of the women and girls in his life is absolutely significant and sends a message about misogyny.

Does being a misogynist make Shinji a horrible, irredeemable character? Well, that's up to each viewer to decide. My take is that he can still break the cycle and improve. Any story about childhood trauma and abuse would be incomplete without at least one of the characters going down the road of turning into an abuser and/or their traumatizer -- Shinji fits this bill in eva, same with Misato and Ritsuko. Despite everything, I like Shinji. I find him endearing and even identify with him to a certain degree.

When you ignore these facts about Shinji's character, you are erasing a large, very interesting part of his character. Reducing him down to any flavor of sensitive, soft boy is as boring as it is cliche after the more than a quarter of a century since the first episode aired in 1995.

The softness, the sensitivity -- this is Shinji's exterior. Beneath it lies someone who is selfish, callous, bitter, rude, and self-flagellating. As is the case with every eva character, the interior is more interesting than the exterior.

The thing is that everything I've discussed in this post isn't just some throwaway line or a piece of blink and you'll miss it symbolism. It's present in this show basically from episode 1 onward. Seriously, rewatch episodes 1-7. Shinji clearly has some misogynistic ideas about how women should be and this rubs off on how he thinks of Misato (and Rei!), especially regarding how women should dress, keep house, and interact with their sexuality. He not uncommonly makes jabs at Misato for being a slob and having poor dating prospects. After Asuka arrives, much of this is transferred to her.

If anything I've written here sounds like vilification to you, I'd encourage you to examine why. For better or worse, this is the reality of eva and Shinji as a character. Will you face this reality, or just keep on dreaming?

[apas-95]

When Marxists say that certain groups, are adventurist, they have in mind the very definite and specific social and historical features of a phenomenon, one that every class-conscious worker should be familiar with. The history of Russian Social-Democracy teems with tiny groups, which sprang up for an hour, for several months, with no roots whatever among the masses (and politics without the masses are adventurist politics), and with no serious and stable principles. In a petty-bourgeois country, which is passing through a historical period of bourgeois reconstruction, it is inevitable that a motley assortment of intellectuals should join the workers, and that these intellectuals should attempt to form all kinds of groups, adventurist in character in the sense referred to above.

— V.I. Lenin, Adventurism, 1914

Let us go over to the second point, the question of terrorism. In their defence of terrorism, which the experience of the Russian revolutionary movement has so clearly proved to be ineffective, the Socialist-Revolutionaries are talking themselves blue in the face in asseverating that they recognise terrorism only in conjunction with work among the masses, and that therefore the arguments used by the Russian Social-Democrats to refute the efficacy of this method of struggle (and which have indeed been refuted for a long time to come) do not apply to them. [...] We are not repeating the terrorists’ mistakes and are not diverting attention from work among the masses, the Socialist-Revolutionaries assure us, and at the same time enthusiastically recommend to the Party acts such as Balmashov’s assassination of Sipyagin, although everyone knows and sees perfectly well that this act was in no way connected with the masses and, moreover, could not have been by reason of the very way in which it was carried out—that the persons who committed this terrorist act neither counted on nor hoped for any definite action or support on the part of the masses. In their naïveté, the Socialist-Revolutionaries do not realise that their predilection for terrorism is causally most intimately linked with the fact that, from the very outset, they have always kept, and still keep, aloof from the working-class movement, without even attempting to become a party of the revolutionary class which is waging its class struggle. [...] The first thing that strikes the eye is the words: “we advocate terrorism, not in place of work among the masses, but precisely for and simultaneously with that work.” [...] The day “when the working people will emerge from the shadows” and “the mighty popular wave will shatter the iron gates to smithereens”—“alas!” (literally, “alas!”) “is still a long way off, and it is frightful   to think of the future toll of victims!” Do not these words “alas, still a long way off” reflect an utter failure to under stand the mass movement and a lack of faith in it? Is not this argument meant as a deliberate sneer at the fact that the working people are already beginning to rise? And, finally, even if this trite argument were just as well-founded as it is actually stuff and nonsense, what would emerge from it in particularly bold relief would be the inefficacy of terrorism, for without the working people all bombs are power less, patently powerless. [...]

This fabulous argument, which we are convinced is destined to become notorious, is by no means simply a curiosity. No, it is instructive because, through a sweeping reduction to an absurdity, it reveals the principal mistake of the terrorists, which they share with the “economists” (perhaps one might already say, with the former representatives of deceased “economism”?). This mistake, as we have already pointed out on numerous occasions, consists in the failure to understand the basic defect of our movement. Because of the extremely rapid growth of the movement, the leaders lagged behind the masses, the revolutionary organisations did not come up to the level of the revolutionary activity of the proletariat, were incapable of marching on in front and leading the masses. That a discrepancy of this sort exists cannot be doubted by any conscientious person who has even the slightest acquaintance with the movement. And if that is so, it is evident that the present-day terrorists are really “economists” turned inside out, going to the equally foolish but opposite extreme. At a time when the revolutionaries are short of the forces and means to lead the masses,   who are already rising, an appeal to resort to such terrorist acts as the organisation of attempts on the lives of ministers by individuals and groups that are not known to one another means, not only thereby breaking off work among the masses, but also introducing downright disorganisation into that work. [...]

Nor does the leaflet eschew the theory of excitative terrorism. “Each time a hero engages in single combat, this arouses in us all a spirit of struggle and courage,” we are told. But we know from the past and see in the present that only new forms of the mass movement or the awakening of new sections of the masses to independent struggle really rouses a spirit of struggle and courage in all. Single combat however, inasmuch as it remains single combat waged by the Balmashovs, has the immediate effect of simply creating a short-lived sensation, while indirectly it even leads to apathy and passive waiting for the next bout. [...] This very point is explained in No. 8 of Revolutsionnaya Rossiya, which declares that “it is easy to write and speak” of armed demonstrations “as a matter of the vague and distant future,” “but up till now all this talk has been merely of a theoretical nature.” How well we know this Language of people who are free of the constraint of firm socialist convictions, of the burdensome experience of each and every kind of popular movement! They confuse immediately tangible and sensational results with practicalness. To them the demand to adhere steadfastly to the class standpoint and to maintain the mass nature of the movement is “vague” “theorising.” [...] Demonstrations begin— and blood thirsty words, talk about the beginning of the end, flow from the lips of such people. The demonstrations halt— their hands drop helplessly, and before they have had time to wear out a pair of boots they are already shouting: “The people, alas, are still a long way off....” Some new outrage is perpetrated by the tsar’s henchmen—and they demand to be shown a “definite” measure that would serve as an exhaustive reply to that particular outrage, a measure that would bring about an immediate “transference of strength,” and they proudly promise this transference! These people do not understand that this very promise to “transfer” strength constitutes political adventurism, and that their adventurism stems from their lack of principle. [...] Anyone who really carries on his revolutionary work in conjunction with the class struggle of the proletariat very well knows, sees and feels what vast numbers of immediate and direct demands of the proletariat (and of the sections of the people capable of supporting the latter) remain unsatisfied. He knows that in very many places, throughout vast areas, the working people are literally   straining to go into action, and that their ardour runs to waste because of the scarcity of literature and leadership, the lack of forces and means in the revolutionary organisations. And we find ourselves—we see that we find our selves—in the same old vicious circle that has so long hemmed in the Russian revolution like an omen of evil. On the one hand, the revolutionary ardour of the insufficiently enlightened and unorganised crowd runs to waste. On the other hand, shots fired by the “elusive individuals” who are losing faith in the possibility of marching in formation and working hand in hand with the masses also end in smoke.

— V.I. Lenin, Revolutionary Adventurism, 1902

[cupids-scream-queen]

A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*

❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀

Part 6 // 3.5k words

-> Part 5

Warnings: stalking, breaking and entering, graphic descriptions of murder, homophobic slur (once), details of dismemberment.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He hadn’t called. He apologized for it at school, telling you that Sidney called, and keeping up appearances, he couldn’t leave her hanging. He told you he’d come by tonight, or perhaps call, but to keep an eye and ear out for him. You promised you would.

The first time your phone rang after Billy left was Tatum, confirming your presence at her house on Friday night—two days away. Agreeing, you wrote down her address, and wrote down a shopping list of supplies you’d need to have in order for it to be, in Tatum’s own words, a successful sleepover. A list including alcohol, weed, and nearly every movie with Tom Cruise in it.

The second time your phone rang was Ghostface, though you weren’t quite sure which one it was at first. The tone was dull and inviting, which initially led you to believe it was Billy, but one key detail led you to correctly guessing Stu—the slang.

“Dammit, he was right,” The voice changer off, Stu was clearly upset. “I guess I do have a way of talking.”

“Everyone does, Stu, it’s called dialect,” You tell him, but he ignores you, continuing to rant about how he doesn’t understand that people can figure out who you are based on what kind of language you use, or how you use it. “It’s kind of like how different actors can play different roles without coming across as the same person. It’s how people speak.”

“So like, how Johnny Depp is in fucking…Edward Scissorhands, and is also in Freddy’s Dead?”

“Kind of. You don’t think of Edward when you’re watching Glen on screen, do you?”

“No, I just see the character.”

“Exactly, it’s because the characters are fundamentally different from one another. You and Billy may operate on the same wavelength, but you two still have characteristics that make y’all unique.”

“Oh. I got it,” You giggled, and Stu joined in for a second. “Sorry, I’m kind of stupid.”

“Is that what Stu stands for?” You teased, and you could practically feel Stu’s comeback.

“No, it stands for Smart Terrific Unit,” He confidently confided. “And it means my parents definitely love me.”

“Do they have resentment towards you or something?”

“A bit, yeah. Ever since my younger sister died. My older siblings moved out of the house, and they kind of distanced themselves from it, too. They didn’t want to be home, they didn’t want to be near me.”

“Was her death your fault?”

“Not really, no. I was just being a negligent older brother, that’s all,” Stu chuckled a bit, but you knew it sounded kind of sad. You hadn’t realized that Stu had actually had to deal with death before, death with someone that he loved.

“My brother died,” You confided. “Not too long ago. And my stepfather. My biological father killed both of them, and then my mother shot him in self-defense.”

“Is that why you started…?”

“Yes, it is. As a form of control more than anything. I guess I just was tired of feeling powerless, so I started to take the power away from people, even if they had nearly nothing. It made me feel better, and it still does. I’m not sorry for it,” You tell him, and you could tell that this was the sort of conversation Stu hadn’t had in a very, very long time.

“So does that mean you won’t stop?”

“I don’t know,” You confessed. “I might, I might not. Not right now, that’s for sure, but once I’m older…who knows? I might become the world’s most prolific serial killer.”

“Naw, that’s the title Billy and I are after. Ghostface is gonna rule the world.” Billy and him. The terrific two. The dynamic duo. The terrifying twins. They weren’t including you in their plans. You felt something like sadness. “What if I joined in?”

“What, you start killing like us? Wearin’ the mask and shit?”

“Yeah, just for a few kills. What if we start planning massive kills, together, and confuse crowds? It’s not like we’re going to get caught if we’re careful.”

“We’d have to run it by Billy, the dickwad likes to control everything,” Stu laughed, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe this weekend after the Slumber Party Massacre?”

“Sure, we’ll run it by him. I don’t see the harm in that—but there’s gonna be harm later.”

“Are you excited to kill Tatum? Do you have a motive?”

“Not really—just peer pressure. I’m far too sensitive. She’s also a bitch and a whore—she cares too much about her appearance and reputation to be anything other than a shallow cunt.”

“Why date her?”

“Get close to Sid and ‘em. Y’know that’s who we’re after, right? Sid. Tatum’s murder is just gonna be because she’s friends with the wrong kind of people.”

“What are we gonna do with Randy?” “Randy?” Stu mused. “Billy’s got something in mind for him. I guess Bill doesn’t like how close Randy’s gotten to you, and if I’m being honest, I don’t either.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“He looks at you like you’re a goddamn fleshlight,” Stu deadpanned, his tone flat. “And I, personally, do not like it.”

“Is there any reason?” You twirled the phone cord around your finger, liking the way this conversation was going.

“If there was, I’m not telling you,” Stu said decidedly. You decided you wouldn’t push him to answer you—if Billy’s display to you earlier was anything to go off of, both killers had a particular spot in their hearts for you, and you were going to use that to your advantage, even if you knew, deep down, you had feelings for them as well.

“Ah. Well, Billy said he’d call me tonight, and I guess I kind of owe him that,” You tell him, and you could sense Stu’s tension.

“Why not just meet up with both of us tonight?” He asked, and you had to stifle a laugh.

“My mom would fucking slaughter me,” You tell him, and he kind of made a small whining noise at the other end of the phone. “If you want, you can come over.”

“I might take you up for that,” Stu said, and you weren’t sure if he was entirely joking. “Might even bring Billy.”

“And what would we even do? Plan a murder?”

“Pay our pal Randy a little visit.”

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

It was nearly a quarter to one in the morning when you, Billy, and Stu finally all met up at your house. Billy brought the famed ladder, and he and Stu climbed up to your window, where you let them in. This time, both of the boys brought bookbags filled with things you knew were instruments to aid their destruction. You had the same thing as well.

“As you know, Stu and I are Ghostface,” Billy began, and Stu looked like he was trying to stop himself from laughing. “And you’re going to become one of us.”

“Is this a fucking cult?” You playfully asked, and Billy hushed you.

“Now, you’re going to prove yourself to Stu and I tonight. Randy’s home alone, and will be for the next three days. Tonight, you will go and kill Randy, by methods Stu and I employed to Casey and her boyfriend. If the murder is successful, you’ll be allowed to wear one of these,” Billy pulled a mask out of the bag, and another identical one. Stu took out his mask, and started aiming it around like a slingshot. “Don’t dick off with those, Stu, I don’t know if I can find other ones.”

“Lighten up, they’re like five bucks a pop,” He aimed it at Billy and let go, but surprisingly, Billy caught it.

“You’ve lost mask privileges tonight, Stuart,” Billy said, pocketing the mask. “Anyways, you’re going to kill Randy, and we’re going to guide you through what to do. These ain’t your normal killings, they’re fun, gruesome, and belong in a movie of their very own.”

“In other words, you’re Michael Myers wannabes with a phone connection?”

“No—we’re artists,” Stu collapsed on your bed, his shoes on your comforter. You held your tongue from saying anything, even though you wanted to scream at him to get off your bed with his musty crusty dusty ass shoes on it.

“Okay, so what? Am I going to prank call Randy, freak him out, torture him, chase him around a bit, cut him up, scare him to death, then stab him and take his organs out and hang them on the clothesline?”

“Something like that, sure,” Billy eyed you, not suspiciously, but carefully. Wondering to see how you’d fair tonight. He knew you weren’t an amater killer, hell, you’ve done it more times than he and Stu. But he knew yours lacked fanfare. Yours lacked style. You were a teenager with a knife, they were teenagers with a cunning plan. And now you were involved in this plan, and he wanted to see if you were capable of doing your duty and making this plan succeed.

“We’ll start heading out a two, I want to kill him at roughly three-thirty,” You suggested, and the two of them nodded. “What do you want to do in the meantime?”

“Get to know you better, babe,” Stu slung his arm around you jokingly, but surprisingly to him, you didn’t move. You watched Billy carefully as you did this, noticing the peculiar glance in his eyes that made you realize that perhaps, Billy had feelings for multiple people in your bedroom.

“We could watch a movie,” You offered, and Billy shook his head.

“Nothing interesting. You’d put on some fucked up 20’s movie knowing you,” He clicked his tongue twice, indicating that he’d thought of something. “What about we play spin the bottle?”

“There’s three of us, that’s a party game,” You pointed out, giggling. Stu nudged you, indicating that you should shut up, or perhaps suggest something different that didn’t involve kissing. “Truth or dare?”

“That’s a girl’s game,” Stu wrinkled his nose in disgust, moving his arm from you. He got up, and trodded towards Billy, and flung his arms around him. “We’re men.”

“You’re a fag,” Billy deadpanned, but he didn’t move. Stu hung off of him like a deadweight, yet Billy did not attempt to remove the boy. You curiously stared at them.

“Maybe we could bake?”

“Isn’t your mother home?” Billy asked, and you shook your head.

“You two suck at stalking. She’s gone tonight, she’s out with some dude. I don’t know who he is, though, and quite frankly don’t care. She’s out of my shit and I stay far away from hers.”

“We kind of gave up on you,” Stu admitted, and Billy hit him in the back of the head.

“Don’t admit shit like that, idiot,” Billy said. He turned towards you. “Don’t worry about him, doll. He’s just a little talkative when there’s murder in the room.”

“Right. Well, wanna see my knife collection?” You offered, and the boys looked like they’d just won the lottery.

“Hell yes!” Stu lept up from his sulking place, and ran over to your side. Billy joined you two as you opened the doors of your closet, revealing two swords hung up on the wall, and a bin full of knives, all with their sheaths on.

“Holy fuck.”

“You really are the Knife Girl,” Billy said, his tongue in his cheek. You hadn’t seen the expression on the boy’s faces before, but you assumed it was as close to pure joy as they could feel.

“No shit, I didn’t get that nickname for nothing,” You stepped away, letting them look at the blades in awe. “I don’t kill with the majority of those.” They didn’t seem to care, though. You watched as they took blade after blade, finding the ones that best suited their hands, finding the ones that were pretty or sharpest or the ones that you most liked. They found your murder blades, the knife they got you, and all sorts of other sharp objects. They liked it. You could tell this was an intimate moment for the three of you.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Three rapidly approached, and the three of you had to start moving to Randy’s house for that night’s murder. Dressed in the Ghostface gear, you clumsily went down the ladder, nearly tripping at a few parts. The long robes of the killer costume was a tripping hazard, and you briefly wondered why they hadn’t mentioned it, until you remembered you were using Stu’s robes, and he was nearly a foot taller than you. It wasn’t a hazard for them.

You crept through the night, joining the boys in the backseat of Stu’s car, and started your drive to Randy’s. The car was silent, but the boys were in their element, though nobody dared to speak a word. Everyone knew the familiar buzz you’d get before you took a life. It was something that was addicting, and you knew it with every bone in your body. You relished the feeling of taking life, and you knew that Billy and Stu felt the exact same way.

You pulled up to the house, which was a small two-story one situated on top of a hill. The flowerbeds were neat and tidy, the house a light white color. The front porch lights were on, and you could see the light on in what you assumed to be Randy’s room.

“Call him,” Stu whispered, handing you the phone. You dialed Randy’s number, surprised that you remembered it at all. “And make sure the voice changer is on.”

You did as you were told, and began your speech to make Randy afraid. Terrified. You could hear his amusement at first, when you asked him his favorite horror movie. You could hear the first tremblings of his breathing when you asked if his bedroom was the one with the light on. You could hear the pounding of his heart as you knocked on the back door, and you could hear how he was absolutely afraid when you, Billy, and Stu knocked from different entrances.

“Get the fuck away from my house,” Randy’s voice was shaky, and you knew you struck a chord with him. “Get the fuck away before you get hurt.”

“Funny thing to say when you’re the one who wants to die.” You taunted, and threw a rock at the window, breaking it. You could hear the yelp on Randy’s end even without the phone. “Randy, do you want to play a game?”

“What the fuck do you want man—what the fuck,” Randy’s desperate pleas on the other end excited you, made you drunk with power. You were in control of the variables here. And Billy and Stu were here to guide you.

“Play a game with me, Randy,” You hear him move in the house, grabbing a kitchen knife. If there was any chance of getting injured, you knew Billy or Stu would step in. They didn’t want to see you get hurt. “Let’s play hide and go seek. If I find you, you die. I’ll count to…hm, let’s see. Is forty seconds enough? Yes, I’ll count to forty seconds. If you hide and I do not find you, you win. If I find you, you’re dead.”

“What the hell,” You could hear Randy crying at the other end, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed this with every fiber of your being, and you wanted to keep this going as long as possible. Stu looked at you, and slipped his mask on. Part two of the plan.

Randy stood no chance of surviving. Realistically, there were far too many of you and only one of him, and he had no experience with anything of this caliber before. One of you would enter the house through each of the entrances, and once you found Randy, you were to whoop or holler or make some kind of noise to alert the others. Once the others are alerted, the three of you are to kill Randy at once, a frenzy of attack.

The third part of the plan was stringing his insides out on the clothing line. This was your added touch, a small detail of gruesome carnage that made Billy swear he would have kissed you right there and then.

You had the front door, and you carefully went inside. The house was still, silent. You paid attention to try and hear any breathing. There weren’t many hiding spots, and you knew Randy might’ve gotten creative. You prayed that one of the boys found where Randy was.

Luck was not on your side. You whooped as you spotted Randy ducked behind a couch, and the two other whoops let you know they were on their way. Scuttling out from behind the couch, Randy tried to attack you with a knife, but you tripped him, causing him to fall. The knife fell from his grip, and you kicked it away from his reach.

Your knife went down on him nearly at once, right in the shoulder blade. Deep. It was joined by a second knife, Billy’s, which was aimed at the back of his neck. Stu was only a few seconds later, plunging his knife into the other shoulder. You started to take your knife out, twisting as you went, Randy’s screams and cries of horror and pain motivating you to do more. You started to stab at his back, hearing the cracking of his ribs encouraged you to do more. Still alive, you heard Randy’s breathing take a sharp inhale as you stepped on his back with all of your strength, lodging your knife deeper within his body. Billy tapped you on the shoulder. Phase three.

You took your knife out of Randy, which took some effort, and you and Stu flipped him over. Randy was still alive, barely moving as Stu undressed him. Completely naked, Randy’s eyes were like a deer’s as Billy placed his knife right above a nest of pubic hair, but then stopped, and looked at you, as if to tell you that this was going to be your kill. You put your knife where Billy’s was just moments ago, relishing the feeling of having someone under your mercy like this. The boys watched as you slowly started to carve your way through Randy’s body, and Randy started to move his arms down to stop you. Billy and Stu lodged their knives in his arms, trapping him to the floor. You made a cut across Randy’s body, and then made the killing blow: ripping his throat out, leaving the blood splatter to the floor. Upon the death of Randy, Billy was the first to speak.

“Do you want to gut him or will Stu and I?”

“I’d like to help,” You said, already starting to poke around in the chest cavity with your blade. “After all, doing laundry is a woman’s job.”

“Spoken like a real one,” Stu joked, and joined you with poking in Randy’s body. You two cut out his stomach and intestines, and handed them to Billy, who put them in a yellow laundry basket that he found upstairs while you were searching for Randy just moments before. Various parts of Randy made it in the basket, including his heart, but Billy took it out of the basket.

“We should leave this in his parent’s room, don’t you think?” The grin on his face was sinister, and you nodded alongside Stu. Billy chuckled, putting the basket on the floor. “Finish gutting him. I’m going to set up a surprise for the happy couple.”

You and Stu did as you were told, finishing emptying Randy’s body. You weren’t sure of their plan with the main body, just that your job was now in action. Stu finished up, placing the last organ in the basket. You stood up, shaking the blood off of your robes and taking the basket to the backyard, where you hung them up with clothespins.

Stu, meanwhile, was carefully arranging a flower display in the corpse of Randy. He was giggling as he did this, moving the body to lay on the couch, and adding the displays of flowers Randy’s mother kept around the house in the chest cavity.

Billy was upstairs, arranging Randy’s heart on a silver platter, with a fork and a knife on either side of the plate. He joined the two of you downstairs, inspecting the handiwork.

“I think we’ve got ourselves a new partner,” Billy said, watching you hang the intestines up. “She’s good.”

“I like her,” Stu said, giving Billy a small kiss on the cheek. Billy nodded, and placed one on Stu’s forehead. “She’s got balls.”

“She’s going to need them for Friday’s murder,” Billy stepped outside. “We’re going to go, alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” You grinned at them, and the three of you went in the car, taking the stuffy robes off. You weren’t quite sure how Tatum or Sidney would react to the death of Randy, but you sure as hell were looking forward to the publicity of the body. Your handiwork was going to be on television. A dream come true for a girl like you.

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-> Part 7

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[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 成化十四年/The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty

(The) Sleuth of (the) Ming Dynasty (it's hard to get an agreement on how many definite articles should go where) is a beautiful, high-budget 2020 drama about a weenie genius detective, his long-suffering and deeply traumatized sugar daddy, and the eunuch with the most difficult job in the Great Ming: keeping these two dumbasses from getting their fool selves imperially executed.

Depending on how you like it, it's either an OT3 or an OTP with an intense, underage third wheel, and either way, it's delightful. I wouldn't call it a comedy, but it has very many funny elements that keep the drama fun and engaging. The first half is full of shorter mysteries that are clever and thoughtfully plotted, and the second half goes in on the longer mystery that ties them all together.

I've already done my quick guide to the early-episode characters, if you want a taste of just how many people are running around and how wonderful they all are. But in case you want to know a little bit more before you commit yourself to a 48-episode series, here's five reasons I think you should watch it!

1. The whole thing smacks of gender

Yeah, this was originally going to be selling point #2, but I know what the people want.

This is not a show about gender. But boy it is a show that has a lot to say about gender, and not just by way of critiquing premodern Chinese gender roles (though it does do that!). Many of the cis characters are either a) somewhat gender nonconforming, b) canny enough to weaponize binary gender expectations, or c) both. Sui Zhou's entire third-act storyline is about how expectations of masculinity exacerbate PTSD in veterans. Three different AFAB characters either dress or live as men. The part where one of the male characters goes undercover in drag is played for laughs, but the joke isn't 'ha ha, a boy in a dress,' it's 'ha ha, this particular boy in a particular dress, and also he's terrible at it.'

And that's even before we get to the eunuchs.

There are several professionally dickless, permanently unmanned characters running around. One-third of the OT3 canonically had his external genitalia nonconsensually removed when he was five years old, and because of this, he has been given unimaginable authority. He's basically the second most powerful man in the entire empire, and he only gets that way by being unquestionably, ostentatiously, and genuinely submissive to the first most powerful man.

I have seen other Chinese media where eunuchs are treated like sinister clowns, good only to be the bad guys and the butts of jokes. Sleuth's main eunuchs are real and complex characters, and because of this, the show gets to explore what it is to live in this weird third-gender category of incredible power and powerlessness.

Now, don't go into this expecting woke gender treatises. Wang Zhi's never going to sit down and go, "You know, my friend and fellow eunuch Ding Rong, because of my lack of a penis, I understand my relationship to masculinity differently than other men do." But the show understands that even if he doesn't say it, it's true. And that makes a lot of the characters and their relationships just so much more interesting.

2. Uncle Jackie Money

Sleuth was the was the fourth c-drama I dove into, following the Untamed, Word of Honor, and Guardian -- or, Some Money BL, Less Money BL, and No Money BL. So imagine my absolute wall-eyed shock to find this was All The Money BL, courtesy of its executive producer, Jackie Chan (seen here with some of his handsome boys):

Sleuth looks good. The costumes are amazing. The sets are stunning. The cinematography is beautiful. Everything is so detailed, and while I can't speak to the absolute historical accuracy of all those details (see point 3), they're still gorgeous. In fact, you know what? I'm going to shut up and show you some of the promotional images.

(For actual screenshots, I'm just going to point you at @rongzhi's tsomd photoset tag, as they have done a tremendous service to the fan community -- though do beware of spoilers.)

Uncle Jackie's influence doesn't end with the money, though. Even though things get a bit goofy and wirework-y near the end, most of the drama's fights are shows of real martial arts skill. You can see his fingerprints on a lot of the choreography -- I'm thinking particularly of the time Tang Fan tries (and fails!) to stab Sui Zhou three times, which is pure Jackie Chan high-speed dexterity.

Add this one to the category of shows your Average American Television Enjoyer Who Can Handle Subtitles would like. In fact, I have shown the first episode to my normie father-in-law, who was impressed. Show it to your dad! See if he picks up on the gay!

3. I am from ... HISTORY!

The Chinese title translates to "The 14th Year of Chenghua," which works out to the year 1478. There are some clear anachronisms, but they tend to be played for comedy, so it's hard to hold that against them. On the whole, though, the show is trying real hard to evoke a very specific moment, and I feel it does so beautifully.

This does, however, mean that several of the characters are real people. I don't even have a good sense of how many of them are based on historical figures, that's how many. Hilariously, Wang Zhi's tag on AO3 used to read "Wang Zhi (?-1487 CE)."

Moreover, these are characters I've seen pop up in other media, played very differently! In particular, Noble Consort (up there in blue) tends to be written as an uncomplicated villain elsewhere, whereas Sleuth gives her a chance to add some goodness to her badness, until, damn, you can't but root for the bitch. (It also downplays the cradle-robbing, which, honestly, is for the best.)

You may have guessed from the eunuch section earlier, but it bears repeating: Wang Zhi is straight-up the best character in the show. He's smart as hell, and he has to be, because the second he's stupid, he's dead. I actually consider it helpful to know ahead of time that he's never going to do a heel turn -- I feel like on my first watchthrough, I was holding my breath for the first two-thirds of the show, waiting for his sudden but inevitable betrayal. It does not come. Wang Zhi is one of the heroes.

He's also, like, evil. He orders people flogged, tortured, and executed. The very first thing you see him doing is sinister as hell. And the show clearly doesn't think this is good, but it also doesn't judge him for it. He's a traumatized seventeen-year-old who has not had a normal moment of his entire life. He's working thanklessly for a boss who could kill him on a whim -- and he's doing it because he literally, physically was made for his job. He's mildly freaking out because he has no emotional grounding to help him understand that these weirdos want to be his friends.

Was the real Wang Zhi like this? That's beside the point. The point is, you get to see how someone in that position could wind up as the war-crimes-committing platonic ideal of a little meow meow.

4. oh my god the food

Warning: This show will make you hungry.

Again, beware of spoilers, but @peppersandcreamsicle and @qinzai have put together an entire cook-along Google Doc so you don't just have to drool -- you can do something about it! Or you can just read it and learn about Chinese cuisine, which is a little more my speed.

But it's not just about how good the food looks. Food is a vital emotional part of the series. People bond over it. They make and share it as a sign of love and care. It indicates status, ethnicity, interest, personality. The show's message about the healing power of cooking for the people you love will bring you to tears.

And yes, Sui Zhou is the main one doing the cooking, so get ready to drool over both the dishes and the handsome man preparing them.

Oh, and as though that weren't enough, Fu Meng Po can actually cook in real life. He's so dreamy. Absolute unreal handsome man with a devastatingly sexy voice. (I know my opinion might be different if I could hear his Taiwanese accent, but I can't so it's not!)

5. An Unsunk Ship

So like I said, my intros to c-drama couples had been WangXian, WenZhou, and WeiLan. That meant I'd basically come to terms with the idea that you can't have a main couple in a BL-but-not-really drama without splitting them up at least a little in the end, for no-homo plausible deniability reasons.

Tang Fan and Sui Zhou are still definitvely, unequivocally together when the story ends, as the iconic pentultimate scene of the series confirms with beauty and simplicity. I refuse to give any more details than that, but that ship's afloat.

(These shirtless pictures aren't from the end, but I wanted to include them, and I didn't have a better place to do it. ...Also, you know, ships and water? Yeah?)

And I think their winding up together reflects Sleuth's entire attitude. Tang Fan is made of sunshine, and the series loves him for it. There is tragedy aplenty in this show, but there's no misery. It is ultimately a hopeful show that believes in the power of second chances, if you're willing to take them. Time and again, the moral of the story is that you are only ever as good as the people who have your back -- but you have to be willing to let them have your back. Let people help you. Let people cook for you. Let people give you a reason to keep living. And then keep living.

Also, Sui Zhou gets two good kabedons off on that little twink, which means they're legally married now. I don't make the rules.

Bonus: Banger opening theme

This is one you will watch all 48 times.

Bonus #2: The Halo Video

This is the video that made me go, huh, these Sleuth boys seem like other boys I've enjoyed! Perhaps I shall enjoy them as well! And then I did. So if that might be convincing to you too, well, have at it. Even if it isn't, it's a fascinating three-minute study of shared those-boys-are-in-love visual language across these shows.

Fair warning that it contains shots from right up to the end, so if you'd rather go in completely blank, give this one a pass until later. (Excuse me while I now go watch it for the 10000th time.)

Have I convinced you to watch it yet?

It originally ran on iQiyi, though Viki's got it as well, and Viki's is free if you're willing to put up with some ads about it.

...I just noticed iQiyi's description of the series reads, "When the two handsome leading actors Darren Wang and Fu Meng-Po work together, what will happen? A lovely prefectural judge and an arrogant embroiered [sic] uniform guard join hands to crack unusual cases! Are you going to choose a new idol?" And you know what? Yes. The details are a little off, but that is the correct spirit. Thank you, thirsty blurb.