#especially when I didn't know it existed until about three days ago

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Mine. || Simon "Ghost" Riley

For @glitterypirateduck's “GhostChallenge” writing challenge! I used the following prompts:

9. Alternate universe 100. You're Price, Gaz, or Soap's sister/brother 12. Brothers best friend trope 71. Reader or Ghost rescues the other from a bad date (but 'bad' is used very loosely) 34. Ghost in gray sweatpants. Just. Gray. Sweatpants. 90. Thigh riding 13. Car sex (also loosely) 48. "Is that the best that you can do?" 99. "You're mine."

Rating: E Words: 3.2k~ CW: smutty, thigh riding, no piv, no kissing, mean!Simon, toxic!Simon, fuck buddy!Simon, jealous!Simon, stalker(ish?)!Simon, possessive behavior. Tags: afab!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, rugby AU, friends with benefits/fuck buddies, unrequited feelings (or are they?), toxic-ish relationship?, lying, manipulation?, secret relationship, brother's best friend, creating/baiting jealousy. Summary: Ghost is a cocky, mean rugby player that you can't help but be pining over. But maybe it's not completely unrequited. OR Simon ruins your date with someone else because he's jealous. a/n: I had a plan. I executed said plan. Profit?

Having grown up in a rugby family, you were given little choice but to attend all of your brother's games, both as a wee lad, a young man, and, now.

You were there, with your remaining sisters and your mam, for every single one of Johnny's games, back from when he was a wee one that couldn't even do a proper tackle and would fall in the mud, to now, picked to join the national team.

This means, however, that you've spent your entire childhood, teen years and now young adulthood, surrounded by the lads from your brother's many teams, but, especially, the ones he met as a teen and made a lasting friendship with: John "Cap" Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, and Simon "Ghost" Riley, the bane of your existence.

Johnny's had them over for birthdays, holidays, sleepovers... Not to mention the times you've gone to pick him up from training and were allowed into the locker room, only to get an eyeful of too much bare skin on all those men as they paraded around half-dressed; in towels; in underwear, or even in less than that.

It became a matter of time until you gained someone's attention. No wonder, pretty lass like you, with your sweet smiles and playful quips... coming to pick up your bulky winger brother, of course you'd catch someone's eye.

Kyle Garrick is the team's Hooker... but he's also known as a manwhore, the town bicycle, or whatever you wanna call him. The lads all know that if they go out drinking, Kyle is not going home alone, and, worse, they know that Kyle could and would seduce their cousins, sisters, mothers, and girlfriends, if not kept in check.

That's part of the reason why Johnny nearly had a fucking aneurysm when he caught Kyle outside the locker room three days ago, with a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, looking down at you with a smug little smirk on those perfect lips of his.

He knew what was happening, the way Kyle was looking down at you, the way you were looking up at Kyle, smiling all cutely, backed up against the wall, while his own teammate put the moves on you and talked about taking you out, his free hand gently playing with the strap of the dress you were wearing.

Johnny, however, missed the way Simon, who was standing right behind him, stiffened up and bristled at the sight of Garrick flirting with you. You didn't though. You caught it as soon as Johnny cleared his throat next to you with a "Should I pull up a chair and wait fer ye to be done?". Simon's eyes were glued to you, his brow set, his jaw clenched...

That's what he gets.

Simon, whom you've had a massive crush on for years now, who you pine for, whose attention you crave... and who only ever comes to you for a quick lay...

Simon, who rolls over after sex and tosses you a towel while he's putting on his clothes, telling you to 'hurry up' so he can take you home.

Simon, who always stares at you like he's going to eat you whole every time he lays eyes on you.

Simon, who chugs half of the ice cold water bottles he's given during breaks in practice, and uses the rest to douse himself in water to keep himself cool.

Simon, who knows how your eyes always get drawn to his legs and his bulge in his uniform, and rolls up his shorts before doing lifts, just for you.

Simon, who comes to pick you up whenever you call him, tipsy, from some bar or club when going out with friends.

Simon, who sends you 'u up?' texts at 2 in the morning when he's drunk.

Simon, who scoffs and chuckles whenever you breach the 'us' topic.

Frankly, you're not even actually trying to get with Kyle, especially not with his reputation (nothing against him, it's just not for you), but you needed to do something.

You're tired of waiting around for SImon to get his head out of his arse. You're not a toy, you're not going to stick around and be 'friends with benefits' with him, except barely friends, and with little benefits.

He's getting what he fucking deserves.

You didn't anticipate, however, how upset Johnny would be at the idea of Kyle taking you out. In fact, it was poor planning on your end because from the moment Johnny saw you with Kyle, he attempted, multiple times, to convince you not to go out with him... And if the DMs Kyle sent you are any indication, he also tried to talk Kyle out of it.

On the other hand, Simon didn't once try to intervene. Despite the look he shot you on Tuesday, he did not in fact reach out to talk to you, even now, as Friday comes along and you stride into the restaurant, hanging off Kyle's arm...

There's nothing from him. No texts, no DMs, no calls, nothing... So you guess that it's done, over. He got the memo, finally...

Your phone starts buzzing inside your bag while you and Kyle are halfway through sharing your appetizers. Looking down at your phone, you narrow your eyes when you find Simon's number ringing.

Really? Now? You don't think so.

So, you hang up.

Only for it to start ringing again immediately after. Simon. Again.

Grunting, you end up picking up. "What?"

"I'm outside. Let's get out of here."

You're hyper aware, suddenly, that the host has sat you and Kyle by the windows overlooking the car park... And you can see a car with its headlights on pointing right at you.

"I don't think so."

"Then don't think. Just do what I'm telling you."

Bossy, as always, that's how Simon is. Everything is on his terms, never on yours.

"I'm having dinner." You fight him, as always. This push and pull of yours has been going on for three years now... And Simon always wins. It makes him cocky.

"Not with him you're not. So you better get out here before I go in there and embarrass you."

With a sigh, you nod. "Fine, I'll be right there."

Turning off the call, you turn to Kyle, explaining you have to leave. His brows knit together and he looks at you with puppy eyes, asking why, and, short of a proper explanation, you do the same thing you've been doing to Johnny for the past three years: you lie.

"Johnny said he got a bizarre text from our mam and he tried calling her and she isn't replying."

"She's on these new sleeping pills, so she might have just knocked out while watching telly..."

"But he's worried, and he's on the other side of town, so he asked if I could go home and check on her..."

And Kyle, as much of a manwhore he is, he's also a gentleman, and is one of your brother's best friends. If your mam might be feeling sick, he's, of course, driving you home and helping! He was raised right.

As you leave the car park on the passenger seat of Kyle's BMW, you're hyper aware of the familiar Range Rover trailing you down the road, always a couple of cars behind, but always there... always lurking.

You reach your childhood home in record time, and start fumbling for the keys inside your clutch while Kyle trails up behind you to the front door. "I think I've got this from here, Kyle."

"No way, I love your mum like she's my auntie, if she's not doing well, I'm here to help,"

"No, really, it's okay, I'm sure she's fine..."

"Love, really, I'm not leaving you like this, not before I make sure that she's alright-"

Suddenly, a large, pale hand comes to grip Kyle's shoulder from behind, Simon's eyes shining in the darkness of the night, barely illuminated by the light by the front door, before his full face reveals itself.

Like a Ghost. That's his nickname. Fast, stealthy, there when you least expect it. Both in the rugby pitch and out of it.

"Don't worry, mate, I've got this." Simon announces, causing Kyle (and you) to freeze.

"You're here too?" Kyle asks, seemingly surprised, just as the taller fullback player removes his hand from his shoulder.

"Johnny called me too. Was worried about her being alone if mam wasn't doing well," Simon says naturally, as if he isn't also lying through his teeth, though his eyes never leave yours, catching and not planning on letting it go.

"Okay... well..." Kyle says and looks back and forth between you and Simon, seemingly catching the weird vibe between you, before he nods. "I'll go home then. Text me?" He asks you. "We can have a rain check."

Gulping thickly, your gaze slowly moves back toward Kyle, and you nod with a soft smile. "Yeah, yeah. Of course." You say softly and move over to kiss his cheek, before watching Kyle go back to his car and pull off.

You're turning, keys now in hand, to unlock the door when one of Simon's large hands grabs yours, stopping you. "What are you doing?" He asks you.

"Going home?" You retort as you look up at him, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapped around yours, clutching lightly. "Ye can go now. Congratulations, you ruined my date. Yer work is done."

Simon chuckles and takes a step closer to you, tilting his head at an angle and regarding you with those dark, deep brown eyes of his, the same ones that always make you feel like he's trying to burn you with his gaze.

"That's cute that there, sweetheart." The Mancunian tells you before he lets go of your hand and pushes you along with a hand on the small of your back, away from your front door. "Get in the fuckin' car." He orders and uses his eyebrows to point at his jeep, his voice carrying the same strong tone that he reserves only for bossing his teammates around during practice.

You know better than to defy him. So you tuck your metaphorical tail between your legs and you nod, moving over to his Rover. He opens the door for you and helps you up by gripping a hand around your forearm, the other bumps you up by the back of the legs.

"How'd ye know where we were?" You end up asking once Simon has driven away from your street, your eyes locked on his as he drives, finally daring to take a proper look at him under the orange light of the street lamps you pass by.

Black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some kind of running shoes. Those stupid bloody sweatpants... The same ones he usually wears when he shows up at your door, or you at his, or when he goes to get you from work or nights out...

You know he did it on purpose... To pick the most slutty outfit he has as he comes to break up your date with Kyle. The annoying grey sweats that hang off his lip, that hug his thick, muscular thighs, the ones that he never wears boxers under, to make sure you can catch the dick print in the fabric...

And his stupid blonde hair all spiked up with hair gel... It used to be brown, matching his eyes, but he bleaches it now, the idiot... You want to be mad at him, you really do... But when he glances over at you while he's driving, you can't really.

"Garrick's predictable," Simon says, his tongue spitting vitriol as he utters his teammate's name. You'd think he hates the bloke... and right now he might as well do. "Takes birds to the same 5 or 6 places every time. Your brother and I split up to cover half of them each." He explains.

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. "The two of ye have no right." You tell him, scolding him over interrupting your date. "I'm a grown woman."

"Right. That's what you told Johnny. Don't try to use that shite excuse on me." Simon tells you as he turns on the blinker and pulls over.

You haven't driven long. Less than 2 minutes. You could climb out of the jeep if you wanted to and walk home.

"It's not an excuse." You retort as you glare at him, keeping your arms tightly crossed over your chest.

"Right, because you want me to believe you really want to go out with Kyle? Or, let me guess, you 'can change him'?" Simon asks sardonically and laughs as he pulls off his seatbelt.

"I didn't say that." You retort. "I simply said that I can do whatever I want because I'm a grown woman.'

"No..." The blond says in a sarcastic tone. "You... did it because you wanted my attention... And you got it, sweetheart." He replies as he reaches over and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, his hands wrapping around your hip and back, tugging you over the gearshift onto his lap.

"I weren't trying to-" You reply, pushing back against his chest, but only half-heartedly, allowing yourself to be dragged onto him.

"Sure you were. But Gaz, really? Is that the best you can do when it comes to making me jealous?" Simon quips as he makes you straddle his left thigh, bringing you down to sit on it, the gusset of your panties pressed against the warm material of his sweatpants.

His stupid, muscular, hard thigh, the same one you can't help but drool over when you watch him in his tiny rugby shorts during practice and in the proper pitch...

You can feel the taut muscle, even through the fabric, the wait his leg flexes as you straddle it, the way he presses the weight of it against your core, and his fingers dig into your hip before dragging you back and forth.

You bite your lip hard to contain a moan, though he notices the way you're trembling, enjoying the look in your eyes, the way your body warms up, the way your back arches up. It puts a sick smile on his lips, one you wanna wipe off.

"It worked, didn't it?" You reply, trying your best to suppress the pleasure from showing on your face, and instead trying to seem smug. "You're here, right? Came to break up my date for a reason..." You say, clinging onto your little 'gotcha' moment...

Only for Simon to ruin it. "Oh that weren't jealousy, darling." He replies, his smirk beginning to grow into a proud, mocking grin, his dark brows rising and his cheeks puffing up with his smile. "I have no reason to be jealous."

Simon begins rocking you faster and harder against his hard thigh, causing you to whine and mewl, the pleasure building from the friction between your cunt and his thigh.

Your clit is slowly and steadily catching on the fabric, making you tremble and twitch atop him, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten as it always does whenever Simon starts playing with your clit like this.

"No, actually... Don't have a reason to be jealous about anyone." Simon replies as he leans toward you, pressing his nose against yours so he can properly look you in the eye. "Not Garrick... not Price... not any of those coworkers you're always talking about... nor your old uni mates..." He trails off.

"Simon..." You grumble, bucking your hips against him, wanting to chase your orgasm. How does he do this to you every time? Make you so horny, make you throw away all rationality, make you give in to him?

"I know, sweetheart, I know... Feels good, don't it?" The large man coos at you as he helps you rock against his thigh faster and faster, your hips stuttering and your legs beginning to tremble on either side of him as you steadily grow closer and closer to coming.

"You know what else I know?" Simon teases as he leans over and uses his teeth to nip at your neck and earlobe. "I know that I'll never have a bloody fucking reason to get jealous over you... because You're Mine." He tells you, his tone surprisingly authoritative.

There's something in that claim... the way he finally says the things you've wanted so badly to hear him say... Your climax crashes into you and you go limp against him, your head falling onto his chest and your jaw going slack as you moan incoherently.

"That's it..." Simon coos at you and gives you a couple of pats on your thigh, sliding his hand up over your ass, covered in a new dress you bought on purpose for your date with Kyle. Your cunt is throbbing inside your panties, your walls clenching around nothing and you know you've left a bit of a wet spot on Simon's sweatpants.

"You got off on that, huh?" He teases you in a mocking tone. "Been wanting to hear that for a while now, have you?" You can hear the smirk on his lips as you try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. He's so fucking mean...

"Piss off, Simon." You retort and pull off him, pushing against his shoulders with both hands and moving pack to the passenger's seat. "Take me home." You say in a huff.

"Of course, sweetheart." Simon replies, his voice still smug and a large shit-eating grin on his lips as he bites his tongue, turning back onto the street.

After Simon pulls over in front of your house again, you hop out, fixing your dress and stomping back toward the house, displeased with his behavior. With him using your feelings for him against him. With him.

His phone rings, echoing through the speakers in the Rover. The small screen on the dash displays Johnny's contact name as Simon is watching you frustratedly fumble for the keys inside your clutch again.

"Been to all three spots. Did you find her?" The Scot's voice comes through the bluetooth speakers as the Mancunian watches you, running his fingers over his thigh where you left a wet stain on his sweats.

"Yeah, mate. Been keeping an eye on them. Kyle didn't try anything and he just dropped her off at home." He replies, watching you for a moment longer.

"Thanks for lookin' out, mate. 'm going for a pint right now..." Soap announces.

"Cheers," Ghost says in a nonchalant date, watching you finally find the keys and open the door, heading inside and turning on the hall light. "You owe me one, had a date planned but spent my evening going after your sister."

"Yeah... yeah... I owe ye." Soap retorts. "Come out me with me, then, 'm sure ye can find a bird at the pub." He offers.

"Nah, mate, 'm knackered. Going to get a good night's sleep." He says and watches you turn to glance at him (or more so his car) through the open door before you turn away again and visibly huff, closing the door behind yourself.

Simon shakes his head, snickering under his breath and saying goodbye to Soap before hanging up the call and grabbing his phone to shoot you a quick text.

"Ur brother is @ pub. Let me in."

Then, he stashes his phone back in his pocket, not even waiting for a reply.

His eyes return to the door and wait patiently, just a couple of seconds go by before you're opening the front door again. Simon smiles seeing that, turning off his car and hopping out.

His girl is so obedient.

[ Ghost Challenge Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[cheriecelestial]

Ocean Eyes Pt.I

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ mild angst(?), not proofread

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Percy Jackson x Gojo fem!OC

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ In which, fate leads an aspiring jujutsu sorcercer to discover her destiny as a half god in a camp for demigods.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Revamping an old series on a whim. And as my previous a/n read “based on this one dream i had and also cuz pjo was my first comfort series and jjk is my current one (only s1)” And as always

Comment, Like and Reblog ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Pt.II

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. But if you recognize yourself in these pages - if you feel something stirring inside - stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Gojo Kanao—or Kanao Gojo, following Western naming conventions. I’m fourteen years old and raised in Tokyo, Japan. As the youngest member of the Gojo clan, niece of Gojo Satoru, and an aspiring sorcerer, my life was unfolding just as it should. Days were spent training and studying jujutsu, while nights were dedicated to assisting on missions—though only under supervision, since my uncle deemed me too young to go on missions alone but too old to remain entirely inexperienced with curses.

Everything was going smoothly until three weeks ago when my uncle received a call from an “old family friend”. Before I knew it, I was packing my bags to enroll in a so-called “summer camp” for “kids like me.” The irony of that statement isn’t lost on me—because aside from my uncle, I’m pretty much one of a kind. It’s not like every other generation produces a Six Eyes user blessed with Limitless. My existence is what many call an “anomaly in the world's power balance,” sparking endless debates among the higher-ups. Not that it bothers me anymore—especially since Uncle Satoru has no qualms about threatening to obliterate anyone who so much as looks at me the wrong way.

He took me in after my father passed away when I was four, and he was just eighteen. With my father gone, the Gojo clan was essentially reduced to just my uncle and me, as little was known about my birth mother. In fact, the first time my uncle even learned that he had both a sister-in-law and a niece—thanks to his absentee older brother—was when the so-called family friend showed up at the Gojo Clan’s doorstep, dragging along a drooling four-year-old with white pigtails.

As shocking as it must have been to suddenly become a single parent, my uncle—or as I call him, Satoru nii-san—adapted to the role with surprising ease. His reasoning? “The baby looks like a mini-me, and I vibe with that.” And, of course, in typical Satoru fashion, he never missed a chance to remind me and my also-adopted siblings, Megumi and Tsumiki Fushiguro, that “having you kids just adds to my dilf appeal.” This was inevitably followed by Megumi deadpanning, Tsumiki offering an awkward smile, and me audibly gagging. Needless to say, he’s nowhere near as beloved—or as tolerable—as he seems to think he is.

“How could you do this to me?” I mumbled, my eyes following the blurred silhouettes of trees rushing past the car window. The only response I got was a string of barely audible curses— pathetic, really.

After countless fights, screaming matches, tears, scratches, and even a few failed escape attempts, I had ultimately been forced to attend this so-called camp. My uncle’s whimsical descriptions—strawberry fields, flying horses, Greek gods, and half-goat people—were enough for Megumi to call absolute bullshit. But as much as I hated to admit it, I knew it was real. After all, it was where I had spent the first four years of my life.

“Nyao-chan, this is the 30th time you’ve said that in the past fifteen hours of flight time. Do better.”

I didn’t even need to look—I could feel nii-san rolling his eyes from the front seat.

“Toru-nii, don’t call me that,” I hissed, turning away with a dramatic hmph, hoping—just maybe—that a shred of guilt would creep into his conscience.

I remembered that place well, and it wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Under different circumstances, I might have even enjoyed visiting. But he refused to acknowledge how much this would derail my progress as a sorcerer. Instead, he’d brushed off my concerns with, “Your development as a demigod is just as fundamental to your growth as your development as a sorcerer. Take it as a learning experience. Have fun. And for the love of god, make some friends that aren’t the Fushiguros or your creepy pet snake.”

Yeah. Like that would end well.

The last time I tried socializing, some boy called me a brat, and I instinctively activated my cursed technique—for the first time ever—in an attempt to kill him. A stunning breakthrough, sure, but not exactly a great first impression. Fortunately for them, the whole incident was ultimately brushed off with an ‘all’s well that ends well’ verdict.

I, on the other hand, walked away from that disaster with a solid 2-star rating. Would not recommend.

“I mean, considering how much you love small spaces, scratching, and hissing, you might as well be one,” he teased. “But hey, cheer up! You’re going to see your Chiron-sensei and Dino oji-san again. Won’t that be fun? All those childhood memories flooding back. Plus, I hear summer camps are really fun.” The exaggerated emphasis on those names made me cringe internally.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized my so-called Dino-oji-san was actually Dionysus, the Greek god of wine. I could only imagine what he must have felt, holding a toddler in his lap while she gleefully butchered his name to suit her convenience. The sheer secondhand embarrassment of the memory made me even less willing to go.

“What kind of summer camp runs in November ?” I shot back, earning an exasperated sigh from him.

Our satyr chauffeur casually mentioned that we were fifteen minutes away from camp. At that point, turning back wasn’t even an option. As the car sped along the winding road, I sank deeper into my seat, arms crossed, scowling at the window like a kid being dragged to school. My fingers drummed against my knee—an unconscious habit I had picked up from nii-san, though I’d rather die than admit it.

"You’re pouting," he pointed out, amusement lacing his voice.

"I’m brooding," I corrected, turning to glare at him. "There’s a difference."

He only grinned. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Nyao-chan."

I clenched my fists. "Stop. Calling. Me. That."

Before I knew it, the car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. There was nothing ahead but an empty stretch of asphalt, surrounded by dense vegetation on either side. “What happened ?” I asked, leaning forward.

The satyr turned to me and blinked. That’s when I realized I had spoken in Japanese instead of English. With the exception of my struggles with dyslexia, English had been fairly easy to learn—I credited Satoru-nii’s obsession with Friends and Britney Spears for that. But learning in general had always come naturally to me. I never had to try too hard to pick up a skill, something that both puzzled and frustrated others. Even I didn’t fully understand it. Apparently, it was a trait of a true Gojo—being godly perfect. That applied to everything except my cursed energy technique. At some point, I had hit a plateau, no matter what method I tried. My growth had stalled. Maybe that’s why he was sending me here.

“She meant, why did we stop?” Nii-san asked, his tone laced with amusement.

“We’re here,” the satyr replied simply. 

I glanced around in confusion. I saw nothing. Then, without a hint of urgency, the satyr stepped out of the car, gesturing for us to follow. With luggage in hand and no better options, we did. As we walked, the dense vegetation seemed to part before us, revealing a familiar yet distant world. My stomach twisted as a rush of forgotten memories threatened to surface—the scent of strawberries in the air, the distant sound of laughter, a warm voice calling my name.

I shook my head. No. That was then. This is now.

I let out a slow breath, steeling myself. Nii-san, of course, was already opening the door, stepping out with his usual carefree swagger. I had no doubt he was about to make a grand spectacle of my arrival, much to my horror. 

“Alright, kiddo,” he said, stretching. “Time to make some demigod friends!”

I scowled. “ I’d rather be cursed.”

He smirked. “That can be arranged.”

I swallowed hard. This is really happening.

After a short hike through the woods, we arrived at a large stone arch. It was a mix of weathered wood and ancient stone, covered in cracks and patches of moss. Greek symbols were carved into the top, their edges worn with age. I stared at the inscription, and to my surprise, the letters began to shift. At first, I thought my dyslexia was acting up, but then I realized—the symbols were rearranging themselves, forming words in English. Within seconds, the inscription clearly read: CAMP HALFBLOOD

“You look surprised. What do you see, Kana ?” Nii-san asked, his eyes on me. I described what had just happened, and he smirked, muttering something under his breath. Curious, I reached out and extended my hand toward the arch. Much like a jujutsu curtain, my fingers passed effortlessly through the barrier, which emitted a faint blue glow upon contact.

“Nii-san, you try it,” I gestured for him to do the same.

He reached out, but the moment his hand touched the barrier, it resisted, pulsing as if rejecting him. A flicker of amusement crossed his face before he pulled back.

“This barrier is stronger than I expected,”he remarked to the satyr, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I'm impressed.” The satyr puffed up slightly at the praise, his hooves shifting in the dirt. “Well, of course. It keeps out unwanted guests,” he said pointedly, glancing at Nii-san, who only grinned in response.

“Nii-san, if you really wanted to break through, how long would it take?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. If you asked anyone to describe Gojo Satoru in a single word, it would undoubtedly be ‘strongest’. There wasn’t a barrier he couldn’t break or a curse he couldn’t exorcise—as long as he put in the effort. He tilted his head, considering it. “Hmmm… it’s strong, I’ll give it that. But we wouldn’t want to put an entire camp full of kids in danger, right?”

I shrugged, accepting that as a fair enough reason despite him not giving me a straight forward answer.

“From here on out, it's just her. No one else can go inside,” the satyr said. “Yeah, we got that,” Satoru-nii replied, clapping his hands with a bright smile. “Just give us two minutes, okay? You know I need a moment to say goodbye to my precious baby.” The satyr blinked, then silently stepped away, out of earshot. Satoru-nii cupped my face in his hands, his voice soft and trembling as if he were about to cry. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “You didn’t feel any guilt over the past few days, and now you’re crying?”

“It’s not that simple!” he protested, his lower lip quivering. “I know I have to let my baby bird leave the nest because it’s what’s best for you, but I—” His voice broke, and a pang of guilt hit me. I sighed and hugged him. “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be fine.”

“Call me every day, you hear me? And make sure you eat well and get enough sleep. Oh my god, I sound like an old woman!” Gojo Satoru had a talent for completely ignoring the fact that Megumi, Tsumiki, and I technically had mothers —albeit either an absent or dead one—and acted like he was the one who’d carried us for nine months and given birth. But hey, who doesn’t appreciate a little extra coddling now and then?

“I can't believe you're leaving already.”

He chuckled, quickly shifting his tone to cover up the emotion in his voice. “What, you thought I’d stick around? I’d love to play the doting guardian, but this camp doesn’t exactly cater to ‘normal’ people like me.” He winked. “Besides, I’ve got my own life, you know.”

I scowled. “Debatable.”

The satyr cleared his throat. “We should get moving, Kanao. Chiron’s waiting.”

I rolled my eyes at the satyr before looking back at Nii-san. “But in any case, I’ll be just fine. Don’t worry.”

“I know. You'll be fine. Always. You'll be better than me, I know it.” Satoru nii-san’s voice softened, dropping into a low, almost wistful whisper. “Even though you're the best there is?” I asked, offering him a gentle smile. To that, he said something I didn’t expect. “You've inherited only my powers, I don't want you to inherit my tragedies too.”

His words left a bitter taste in my mouth. People often assumed that because he was the strongest, his life was easy. But it was people like him who suffered the most—so much so that sometimes, it made you wish you didn’t have power at all.

“And lastly,” he continued, as if the previous conversation had never happened, “don’t kill anyone. But if you do, get rid of the witnesses and call Nii-san first. Nii-san will take care of it.”

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. First of all, shouldn’t he be teaching his kid to be nice to people? And second, why was he referring to himself in the third person?

“Shouldn't you be saying ‘don’t bully people and be nice’ or something?” I asked, though his advice wasn’t the first of its kind. My brother Megumi had a reputation for beating up people at school, but Nii-san never saw an issue with it. The people Megumi fought were rarely innocent, and besides, he never lost a fight—so no shame was brought to the family name.

“If there's anyone you think shouldn’t be alive, then they shouldn’t be. Just remember, the world’s your playground. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he replied with complete conviction. One thing everyone knew about Gojo Satoru was that he was a firm believer in Gojo family supremacy—and he wasn’t wrong.

“Then what about those sleazy higher-ups?” I quipped, knowing full well what he was trying to do. I was aware of his grand plan to tear down the old order and build a new jujutsu world, which was the real reason he’d become a teacher. It was a vision I’d bought into the moment he showed me the dream of it. But for that dream to become a reality, I had to grow stronger. I needed to become more, become unstoppable. So, I’d gladly accept any wisdom the Greeks had to offer. By the time I was done here, I’d make sure I was the strongest demigod they’d ever laid their eyes on.

“All in due time Kana-chan.”

A/n: comment to be added into the taglist :)

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 11

Part 11:

Liana could easily say she would pay thousands of dollars to fly home on another day. But obviously she didn't have thousands of spare dollars, and the ones who bought her the plane tickets were her parents, along with Art's parents. Of course, seating them side by side the entire way from Stanford home.

Most of the semester she managed to avoid him. From time to time she would feel a scrutinizing gaze on her and knew it was Art, but every time she looked up to tell him to go fuck himself, their eyes didn't meet.

Now she has to spend several hours on the plane next to him, with both of them remembering the last time they flew together and she fell asleep on his shoulder. Both know she doesn’t plan on sleeping a single moment on this flight. There’s no way that in a moment of weakness, she will touch Art Donaldson by choice ever again.

Liana's leg shook uncontrollably, causing Art to sigh. He wanted to pull out one of her earbuds and tell her she could relax and that he wouldn’t bite her (no matter how much he wanted to). At this stage, he already thought it was ridiculous. Months have passed, and she acted as if he didn’t exist when they both knew that if they just talked about it, this horrible period would be behind them.

"I bought the snack you like with the jam." He couldn’t resist and pulled out one of her earbuds. His hand brushed her cheek for a second. If he were a stronger man, he wouldn’t have done it. But even if Art Donaldson is strong in most areas of life, he is very weak when it comes to Liana Levy.

"Can I have it back, please?" She asked with a coldness that never characterized her. Even before Stanford, when they were younger, and she tried to make him think she didn’t want any connection to him, she wasn’t cold. She would roll her eyes, go into tantrums, and distance herself as much as she could. She was never indifferent to him. He feared this indifference like a sheep fears a lion.

He put the earbud in her hand and left his hand on hers. She let him for a moment, and he closed his eyes, relishing the touch that lasted exactly three seconds until she recovered and moved away from him as much as she could. As if he might infect her with an incurable disease.

She took the snack he bought for her. Because if there’s one thing to say about Liana, it's that she can't give up her manners, and even when she’s furious with him to the core, she will do this small act to please him. It made his heart ache and kept him silent for the rest of the flight.

Again, like in a déjà vu feeling, her father was waiting for them, and they got into the car. "Liana, even if Mom acts coldly, it's not because she's angry. Okay?" Her father suddenly said, and Liana blushed. Art examined her as she shrank into her seat. "Can we talk about this at home?" She asked quietly, embarrassed by the direction of the conversation. "No, because Mom is at home, and Art is practically family. Right, kiddo?" Her father smiled at him through the mirror. God, how he loved her father and the small window he opened for him into her life. "Anyway, she almost completely fine with everything, and she even wanted to call a few days ago to ask how you were doing." Her father continued. Art didn’t know something had happened between Liana and her mother. "How long has it been like this?" He suddenly asked, his voice much more confident when her father was in the car because he knew Liana wouldn’t complicate the situation. Especially if she’s already in some kind of fight with her mother. "Since the day we talked about London, probably. The day Li flew back to Stanford." If her father could, he would give Art her entire life story at any given moment. He really loved Art as if he were the son he never had.

Art started connecting the dots; That’s the reason she came to him as soon as she landed that day. That’s the reason she seemed so shaken, and that’s the reason he thought she had been crying. She and her mother fought that day. A fight big enough not to speak again for months. And instead of supporting her and insisting on knowing what happened, Art made that day even worse.   The thought that Patrick was going to erase him from her life sharpened at that moment. He knows Patrick would’ve read the situation better. He knows Patrick wouldn’t have acted the way he did that night. Art knows Patrick is selfish in every aspect of his life, except for Liana. While Art happens to be the most selfish when it comes to Liana.

Despite Art’s grandmother ruining all her birthdays throughout her life, Liana loved her as if she were her own grandmother. That’s how she found herself in a car with Art Donaldson, on the way to her nursing home. Because she couldn’t leave the country without seeing her, and Art... well, he heard about it from his parents and said he would drive her because he also wanted to see his grandmother. And once again, only Liana knew that Art was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

"Are we really not going to talk the whole drive?" Art asked. He was dressed nicer than usual and smiling more than usual. On another day, Liana would have found his smile charming, but the last two weeks at home had been filled with silent fights between her and her mother, who probably wouldn’t forgive her in her lifetime. Right now, Liana wanted to wipe the smug smile off Art's face with a slap. But she wasn’t a violent person, so she simply turned up the radio and looked out the window. "Are you planning anything for your birthday?" Art asked, turning the radio back down to its original volume.

"Tell me, is this a mental illness? Are you bipolar or something?" she retorted, only causing his dimple to become more pronounced. "These are really concerning mood swings, I recommend you check it out and really shut up for the rest of this trip that I don’t even know why you joined. You can visit your grandma literally any other day and not with me like a psychopath." She mumbled the last part, causing Art to chuckle.

"Is it amusing to you, Arthur?" she asked, genuinely unable to read the person in front of her. A person whom just a few months ago her instincts betrayed her and made her think she knew all about him.

"It amuses me that you're trying so hard to hate me, Li, instead of taking a moment and talking to me." He said with feigned calmness. Art knew he was getting close to the point where Liana wouldn’t be able to resist and would just spill everything that was on her mind. He knew that from the moment it happened, it would be easier for him to deal with her. He knew that from the moment she started showing him she was angry at him and not ignoring him as if he didn’t exist, he would be able to turn things back.

Maybe not to Christmas when she was completely his, but before, when she looked at him and really saw him. When she cared for him because he was sick. When she came to some of his practices. When she was an inseparable part of his day. If she'll leave when she was at that point again, maybe Patrick won’t be able to take over what remained of her feelings for him. Maybe he'd have a chance to be in her life.

"You’re delusional." She muttered, turning up the radio again. "You look beautiful today. All this to impress my grandmother? You know she already loves you." He turned it down again, still amused. Liana sighed and rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very long drive.

"Jessica, you look amazing!" Liana said and hugged Art’s grandmother. His heart filled in a way he didn’t know it could. How did he never notice? How did he not notice how much attention Liana paid to such an important figure in his life? And so for a few hours, they sat and played cards and Scrabble with his grandmother and her two friends, and they listened to gossip about the seniors at the nursing home. Liana was so good. So attentive. So present.

"Lia," his grandmother started when the three of them were left alone, "at your wedding, I won't be there, but say a few words about me so that Art’s grandfather hears from his grave and gets jealous." She tossed it out casually. As if everything in this scenario was self-evident; It was clear to her they would get married, it was clear to her she wouldn't be there, and it was clear to her that her deceased husband would hear.

Art chuckled quietly, watching Liana and seeing how red she was. Even her ears had changed color.

"Don’t worry, Grandma. We’ll talk about you the whole event." If he had been less smug about everything, he would have shut up. But he couldn’t stop himself. He had to see if he could make her blush even more. If there was another button he could press to make her release what she had against him, so eventually he could get back into her life.

"When Art gets married, Jessica, you’ll be there and hold his hand. And at my wedding, you’ll be the guest of honor." Liana said, trying to steady her voice. Art chuckled. The shameless bastard just chuckled. The look Liana shot at him would have killed any sane person. But Art didn’t consider himself very sane at that moment, and certainly not someone who feared an angry look from Liana Levy.

"She’s dismissing you, Arthur. What are you doing about it?" His grandmother looked amused by Liana’s embarrassment and Art’s feigned indifference. "Don’t worry, Grandma, I’m on it," he smiled and hugged her.

"Lia, promise me you’ll keep calling me even when you’re far away and fall in love in Europe," Jessica looked at her with a penetrating gaze. "Yes, Lia, promise her." Art said, causing her to look at him for a moment. At this stage, he wasn’t sure he would survive the day, but it would probably be a sweet way to die. "Jessica. If until now I’ve called once a week, without missing, nothing will change that." Liana hugged her again, and they moved towards the car.

"You're calling my grandma once a week?" Art didn’t know this. Why didn’t anyone tell him this? He wanted to scream. Since they were kids, Art was sure he wanted to be much closer to Liana than she wanted to be. And that was fine, he got used to the piercing looks, sarcastic words, and eye rolls. Stanford changed that. Stanford made them equals. They saw each other in the same way. They wanted to be close in the same way. They were in each other’s space. For him, Liana's change happened at Stanford. The change happened this year. And then he discovered things like this. He discovered that Liana was calling his dying grandma once a week and helping her pass the time.

"Can you fucking answer me?!" He raised his voice. He didn’t want to raise his voice. But his patience for the silent treatment, his punishment, had run out. He felt like a little boy who was told to stand in the corner for four months and expected not to explode.

"Arthur-" she sounded bored when he cut her off. "Art." He said firmly and made a sharp U-turn on the highway, driving in the opposite direction of their home. "What the fuck?! Art! Where are you going?" she asked, a bit scared by his change in approach. He didn’t answer her and continued driving until he stopped in a place empty of people, surrounded by sand with no building in sight.

"Where are we, Art?!" she asked for the umpteenth time.

Art got out of the car and closed his eyes, breathing heavily, hearing her get out too. "I'm not joking with you. Take me home. Now!" She crossed her arms under her chest, and he approached her, invading her personal space.

Liana managed to see his eyes up close for the first time in months. They were filled with tears. Her initial instinct was to reach out a hand to his cheek, but she restrained herself from moving. Their breathing was heavy as they examined each other. Art's first tear fell on his cheek.

Every bone in Liana's body screamed at her to hug him. Every internal and external limb of hers burned with the need to ease his pain. But she knew he didn’t deserve it. She knew that whatever was happening now, Art deserved to feel it.

"Please, Liana." He mumbled. His voice was broken. This wasn’t how Art planned this day. He planned to dress nicely, drive to his grandma’s, remind Liana of all the things he was good at. Remind her that he was much more kind than he was mean. Instead, he was crying. Instead, he was looking at her and realizing that in a few days she would leave, and maybe he would never feel the same way for anyone else. Maybe he didn’t want to feel all these emotions for anyone else. Maybe only with Liana could he feel so much.

Art slowly dropped to his knees. Not taking his eyes off Liana. Her breathing became even heavier, and her eyes filled with tears too. She had never seen such a thing. A person willing in the middle of the street to drop to their knees before another person, while in tears.

"Art, get up..." she mumbled, wanting to look around to see that no one was coming, but afraid to take her eyes off the scene before her. Her instinct won this time, and she placed both her hands on the sides of his face, wiping away the endless tears, while Art, like an addict to the feeling, leaned into the warm and gentle touch with his eyes closed.

"Do you even know what you did to me?" she asked, and he opened his eyes, looking at her with longing. With a desire to absorb everything she had to say to him. "You ruined me, Art Donaldson. You broke me." She said, and he stood up slowly. "I'm sorr-" he started, and her hand found his cheek with force. Liana wasn’t a violent person. Liana is not a violent person. "You have no right to ask for forgiveness." She stated. "That was the first time I slept with someone, Art." Her voice sounded like the cry of a wounded animal. "Did you think about what such a formative experience would do to my sex life? Did you think about the trust issues I would have? That I would never be able to trust anyone like I trusted you?" She cried so hard she couldn’t resist his embrace while his crying intensified.

"I will never be able to behave the way I behaved with you. You used me to get back at Patrick. You used me to win a competition only you participated in." She pushed him a bit away from her, and they stood facing each other again, both trying to breathe. After a few minutes of this, silence and piercing looks, Art dropped to his knees again, and Liana looked everywhere but at him. With the last of her strength, she tried to resist the magnetic pull Art Donaldson has on her. "Li, look at me." His broken voice commanded her without commanding, he couldn’t command anything for anyone. He was on his knees for her. "You're pathetic." She said. Without blinking. She never talked like that to anyone. All he could do was nod and hug her leg while she looked up at the sky, again with tears in her eyes, running a finger through one of his curls. "I will be good. I promise." He said what he demanded from her every time they were intimate with each other. Their gazes crossed once more, "I will be good even when you’re not here. I will be good for you."

HEYYYYYYYYY How are we doing with that gap of 2 days? I hope it was worth the wait. I hope that you're not getting tired of this story yet 'cause I'm still obsessed with them all, but I don't want you guys to feel like I'm dragging the entire thing. Patrick and Liana are going to London in the next part. Who's excited??? You're always welcome to the comments or the ask box and have a chat with me. also, taglist is open if you want :)

taglist: @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[miss0atae]

Dreams and love connection in recent Thai QL Series :

I've recently started watching I Saw You In My Dream and the premise of the story is about a young man called Ai who acquire the power of prophetic dreams. With these dreams he can see what will happen the next day. This new power is going to change the dynamic of his relationship with his neighbor, Yu. There is indeed a recurring character in his dreams and that's Yu. These dreams will create a change in how Ai is viewing his relationship with Yu.

I Saw You In My Dream isn’t the only recent Thai QL series I’ve watched with dreams as a literary/cinematographic device. The GL series, My Marvellous Dream is You has also use it, too. Wan has always been able to see her best friend now lover, Kim, in her dreams. I felt like the Dream Land, as I called it, has always been a representation of Wan’s mental health and a tool for her to navigate her relationship with Kim.

Also, If you're watching Century of Love, you may have noticed how San always get wet dreams of Vee . It is used to reveal how he is unconsciously having feelings for Vee, despite rejecting him in real life because he doesn't look like the woman he fell in love a 100-year ago. Are the dreams only something coming from his subconscious or is it a dream send by the goddess to guide him… it's up to the viewer to make their own choice.

There are probably other recent Thai QL series using dreams as a literary/cinematographic device. However, I decided to focus only on these three for several reasons: I'm currently watching them, they are the ones that inspired this post and they fit one specific criteria. I want to develop the idea of dreams as a “magical” tool. It's useful to know I'm usually drawn to fantasy setting in stories. I especially like when the fantasy aspect produces a form of hesitation between the supernatural and the natural, the possible and the impossible, and sometimes between the logical and the illogical (not my words, I quoted Tzvetan Todorov). I believe the uses of dreams in the Thai QL series I mentioned, fall into this category.

Why is it fascinating when a work of fiction uses dreams? I think it's because they are a part of every-day life for most of us. Dreams have always been a source of inspiration or reflection. Traditionally they have been considered as a way of freeing oneself of time or space, to be able to talk to supernatural creatures or ancestors, a tool to heal or to access knowledge. There is also a more rational and scientific view of dreams. However, there is still this wish to know the meaning of the dream or why they exist and to what purposes. That's why it is always interesting to add dreams in work of fiction. They serve different purposes and can add so much more in a stories.

The way they are represented in work of fiction depends on the characters who get to have dreams and how it affects them. Here I'm going to solely focus on Ai, Wan and San.

Ai has prophetic dreams that focus on his neighbor Yu. Usually prophetic dreams provide foreshadowing. In this situation they are also going to influence Ai's reaction around his neighbor. Ai and Yu doesn't have the best relationship. Ai is often teased by Yu and he doesn't like it that much. The synopsis of the series also describe them as “star-crossed haters since childhood”. I found that it was a bit too much because I didn't feel like Ai really hated Yu. He hated his actions maybe, but Yu was an every-day part of his life. He was often at his home and they did so many things together. Anyway, it's only been two episodes, but Ai made several dreams of Yu. They are usually about an incident that would happen to Yu: he gets injured by using a knife, he gets hit by a car or he is hurt by a knife blow. Ai won't believe that these dreams will be real until Yu get injured by the knife almost like in his dreams. Then, he will try to prevent the terrible incidents that could happen to Yu. His dreams force him to care about Yu and to spend a lot of time with him when he previously avoided him. However, his dreams are not only about bad events his neighbor may have, he also gets a dream where he is kissed by him. In his dreams he gets to experience to feel like he is on cloud nine. It's a scenario he never imagined and it influences his reaction around Yu. The synopsis made us feel like all the care he will provide to Yu will make Ai see him differently. Also, as he is also experiencing love in his dreams he may feel the drive to feel it in reality too. Dreams here are a driven force and essential part of the story.

Wan is more a dreamy sort of person than Ai. When he rejected at first the possibility of his dreams to be true, she just rolls with them. She accepted that they are a part of her that she can use to get connected to Kim. In her dream she has her own land where she can escape reality and be free from the decorum of society in real life, but also she can be herself. I always felt like Wan has some sort of internalized homophobia and that's why she never tried to express her strong feelings to Kim. I imagine it was because of her personal life story as her dad abandoned her mom and her to be with a man. Her mother reacted really badly and she may have feared about coming out. It was only in her dreams that Wan could do all the things she wanted with Kim. That's why she was so casual about them. When she was talking to her friend about how she always used them, you could see how she accepted the power of her dreams and never really questioned why her or why she was having them. You have to know that, she seems to have a certain control of her dreams as her actions on her Dream Land have a repercussion in real life. However, in her series Wan isn't really using her dreams that much. They always felt disconnected from the story of the series which I always found quite disappointing because they were the reasons why I was so hyped by the series at first. It was used quite a lot in the series, but it was never the plot device I thought it would be. The story could have worked without them, but they were one of my favorite parts of the story.

San is a hard-nosed character who feels like he is a very prudish person who’s disturbed by the most erotic dreams of Vee. It doesn’t sit well with San, at first, because he strongly rejects the idea that Vee could be the reincarnation of the woman he considered as the love of his life. He has been living for 100 years suffering each night to get the chance to find her again after she was killed. To be able to stay alive and young looking until he finds her, he made a deal with a goddess to cherish and love the reincarnation of his previous lover. Vee is supposed to be this reincarnation (I still believe it would be great if it’s the case) but he is no woman and he is not a copy carbon of how Vad / Wat was acting in the past. That’s why San reject him. However, in his dreams his reluctance to accept Vee are not to be seen. Even if Vee isn’t his previous lover, he is still having erotic dreams of him. It’s really Vee and not Vad / Wat that San imagine in his dreams. The overwhelming pleasure he gets isn’t induced by an oneiric Vad / Wat. He sees only Vee. The first dream is an erotic dream free from the old conception of life San may have. In the second dream, Vee is represented has a nine-tailed fox, a mythical fox from Chinese mythology. A nine-tailed fox possesses magic powers and are usually mischievous, tricking other people, with the ability to disguise themselves as a beautiful man or woman. This time Vee is the temptation San is trying to avoid. This dream shows him that he is struggling in vain. He already has feeling for Vee even if he can’t really understand them, yet. Dreams in this series show something about a character they aren’t aware of. One of them is also showing symbolism. As for now, the series didn’t go overboard with them.

I may have to update this post later when I’ll get the new episodes of these series.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/7/2023

three days until my birthday problems. i have been very busy with 1) prepping my costume for ren faire and 2) onboarding a new henchwoman to the evil lair, a talented little tabby we're immediately extending full health benefits to with no trial period

listening

good morning afternoon by rebecca sugar. if i had not already known it was rebecca sugar by the voice and the understated guitar, i would have known it was her by the gorgeous synthy chimey chimes. spotify

on my release radar playlist

-

reading

stop fucking using personally identifiable details in your passwords. also stop reusing your passwords and burner emails. especially if you're doing crime

A pivotal clue for validating the research into Apathyp/Fearlless came from the identity intelligence firm myNetWatchman, which found that gezze@mail.ru at one time used the passwords “геззи1991” (gezze1991) and “gezze18081991.” Care to place a wager on when Vkontakte says is Mr. Sherban’s birthday? Ten points if you answered August 18 (18081991). Mr. Sherban did not respond to multiple requests for comment.

-

watching

the 2006 anime BLACK LAGOON, we're going to yoink this from wikipedia bc it's serviceable enough

The series follows the Lagoon Company, a four-member team of pirate mercenaries smuggling goods in and around the seas of Southeast Asia with their PT boat, the Black Lagoon. The group takes on various jobs, usually involving criminal organizations and resulting in violent gunfights.

unfortunately i am genetically inclined to boats and ex-military boats. it is extremely 2006 in sensibility and animation choices. there are remarkably sophisticated and fun battle sequences, and a lot of ass but little upskirting. revy (pictured below) is a dual-wielding gunslinger who is simply the worst. horrible woman that gets space to have a bit of a messy complex character arc and have a messy complex time of it. her writing and character are quite good period, not just quite good for 2006. i adore her.

the second episode has our pirates take out a helicopter with a torpedo boat (no deck guns! they just use the torpedo!) in a way that made me stand up, lift mackintosh above my head, and hoot like a tusken raider.

this is about as violent as your average spaghetti western, and much like spaghetti westerns i don't think the series is always successful in using its setting to make points about grey morality and not like. shock for shock's sake? certainly one to look up trigger warnings for.

the why: now i have a bootleg chromecast i have been watching more things on my actual television, remembered "hey this exists on hulu why didn't i finish it several years ago". still not sure why i didn't finish this several years ago. i am pirating the second season, but it's the sub which is a shame bc i quite like the dubbed voice actors, but it's a nightmare trying to find a dub with subtitles. i rarely have the patience to fuss with my own subtitle files.

-

playing

turnip boy commits tax evasion, a 2021 game that was recently free on Epic. it is the studio Snoozy Kazoo's first game. i had a very strange time with this, bc the first fifteen minutes up to the first boss fight lulled me into a sense of complacency and then the minute i had to do something slightly complicated at the first boss fight (pay attention to my timing) i lost interest. i don't know if i will return to this, bc the humor didn't always hit for me (extremely online, but twitter online) and there's a major genshin update later this week.

-

making

new evil lair employee, phil (short for philip marlowe)

recap of tragic backstory: i had seen her Around for about a week or so, realized on friday night when i scared her out of the dumpster that she had something stuck to her, and didn't see her again until sunday night, when she was too lethargic to skitter away from the dumpster. she has a VERY gnarly wound on her left flank and leg, the urgent care vet thinks she got dragged or caught in something. it is healing remarkably well, all things considered, and it's not infected bc the thing stuck to her was some vetwrap. so someone at some point patched her up?

she is SO full of milk. i have not found the kittens but there are a Lot of strays in this neighborhood, so my hope is that some other momma cat has engaged in some kidnapping.

i have a formal vet appt on the 17th for mackie that ive added phil to, so we'll see about her heart murmur, if she has a microchip (unlikely) and getting her spayed after she heals up a bit more.

mackintosh is Fucking Pissed!!! we will do incredibly slow introductions and phil will probably live in the office/guest suite for. several months. i had not originally planned on adding another henchwoman so soon, but i do have the spare bedroom, the shelter wasn't doing intakes or clinic appointments until friday, and the wound. really could not have waited until friday. it was free cat.

[fraeuleintaka]

Investigations 1 Introductory Description

This is the 28th post in the Ace Attorney Investigations Collection Countdown: 53 days left until release!

Today's topic: the Introductory Description of Investigations 1!

[vague spoilers for Investigations 1]

Along with the artwork representing each game the website also gives a short introduction on them along with several of their major characters. I'd like to talk about each of these little introductions starting with Investigations 1 for today.

The tagline they chose for it is pretty interesting. It focuses on an exciting chase of some kind and how you have to solve a mystery, not really anything concrete story-wise (no mention of the smuggling ring or the Yatagarasu being that which you chase) but more the emotions behind it and a hook for wanting to find out more. It's really vague but I also like it in a way because solving mysteries is the crux of Ace Attorney and it's probably good to announce that for Miles' first solo outing. They could've gone for a more thematic approach (like how do you fight criminals that are outside/above the law or what if you reach the limits of the law) but it's possible they considered that too much of a spoiler already which I can understand. Especially considering how tight I1's time frame is the tagline they chose more than fits 😄

In the following description they, of course, mention that this is Miles' show now and that Phoenix isn't going to be part of it 😉 Personally, I like that they didn't try to shoehorn him into Miles' story. I wouldn't mind them mentioning his name when they talk about Miles' redemption but except for funny cameos I wouldn't want him to appear. I like how much else Miles has going on completely independent from Phoenix, as it should be, since Miles isn't involved in every single thing that happens in the main series either and he has no need to rely on that connection but truly shines on his own character's merit. (More than shines if fandom popularity is any indication...)

I love how they refer to Miles as "the prosecutorial prodigy". Anyone who's played the series knows who and how impressive he is but it certainly doesn't hurt to advertise it a little bit 😉

They also mention that the game won't take place inside the courtroom (for the most part, anyway) but directly at the crime scene. Also a fundamental difference worth mentioning for the first spin-off of its kind and the reason for the "Investigations" subtitle.

The cheeky "Luckily for him" is wonderful! 😂 Yeah, I bet Miles is really happy about the murder in his own office and how quickly everything escalated over these few days! Especially because he already solved a murder on the plane he flew home with and another one pretty much immediately after where he was also hit over the head and kidnapped for a while! So technically for him the story doesn't actually start with the murder in his office but the game does and it's a fitting introduction (and tutorial case) so it's perfectly fine.

Little sidenote here, I love that the entirety of Investigations 1 takes place over just a few days. It's kinda insane how much happens but even more insane is how much Miles accomplishes in that time! He takes down an international smuggling ring that has been chased by law enforcement for over 10 years after having learned of its existence a mere three days ago and solves five (!) separate murders during that time! Miles' very eventful, very busy week 😄 (and Investigations 2 takes place not that long after).

To conclude they give a little teaser of what happens in the first case of the game with a gunshot ringing out in the dead of night and Miles pondering the question why his own office of all places. It's a great opening mystery which the game fully delivers on. You get a few hints over the course of the other cases but you only truly solve it towards the end of the final case together with a great amount of other mysteries. The timeline of the cases is a bit unusual but not really confusing and does a great job of building up tension and intrigue and then delivering the pay-offs in the end. Not to mention the amazing intro to the game with Miles confronting the intruder in his own office! Epic start to an epic story!

[graylinesspam]

Alright, I'm only going to address this situation one time so listen up.

I made a silly little headcannon post not even 24 hours ago that has apparently stirred up a lot of feelings in the DC Batman fandom. It doesn't even have 200 notes yet and I've received a lot of negative feedback on it.

which I almost want to say is fine? Like you're more than welcome to disagree with me, whatever. Especially when it comes to DC characters who are some of the most mischaracterized by their own source material of any characters in existence. Rebloging with full essays including comic panels citing why I am wrong is a bit unnecessary, I don't usually engage with fandom discourse so I don't love to have it on my post but I'll let it go since it isn't really inappropriate just kinda unwelcome. It's a part of fandom, it's whatever.

But I am actually having to address it specifically because I've received five anonymous asks in my inbox since last night that have all been a lot more hostile than the people who've attached their usernames to their disagreements. One of which actually had suicide baiting in it. I deleted the first three after receiving that ask because I was just freaking out and kinda hoping they would go away. Again I never interact with discourse so I'm not really sure how to deal with this. But I've received two more asks today and I'm really not willing to deal with this at all anymore.

I didn't realize I needed to add a "don't like don't read" warning to a stupid tumblr post but It is never appropriate to send hate mail anonymously to another blog. We need to remember first the rules of "is it true, is it kind, is it helpful?" for the people asking me if I'm illiterate or if I've ever read a batman comic before. And for the rest of you; this is a reminder that you are in control of you're own online experience. There's a block button right there; use it liberally.

I have never been treated so disrespectfully in a fandom space before and I regularly hang around in the Star Wars fandom. It is a sad fucking day when you behave worse than star wars fans. And for the crime of mischaracterization of all thing? Like you'd have thought I said something morally offensive with the way people were judging my character.

I don't know; I'm rambling. I don't know what else to say about this except just Stop. And also my ask box will be closed until further notice.

(Also blanket statement not to harass anyone else on that post on my behalf. Not that I have enough followers to need to worry about that, but seriously guys, just behave like adults please.)

[youarentamaybeyoureayes]

Oh my gosh, yessssss! What you said about R*nis kept saying if Olivia was not to leave the show, they would be endgame. I made a post about Rina and compare to s2 to realize that Rina has been there all along with too many signs on reddit so Rinas would gush and discuss about how they have noticed the signs now with s4 explaining everything. So anyways, just yesterday, I got notification from Rini basically saying, "You all are dumb as hell. If Olivia hasn't left the show, they would be together. They would be endgame. You all are so dumb." Like she thinks that insulting us all would what? Make it true? It was so amusing to see how pressed she was enough to come in my post and insult all of us because we were discussing about Rina history. I had to call her out that you need to research it first before coming in here and calling us names because you think you are so smart to say such things when it's so obvious you had completely no idea what you are talking about. I really HAD no energy to fight with her because I knew it was such waste of time and she wouldn't listen to a reason so what's the point. So your post is exactly accurate. I kept seeing crap like that and it's really annoying.

exactly like, even on youtube recently, you can't even look at a few comments on some of the new rina videos without a bitter r*ni or p*rtwell who hasn't watched the show since season 2 or started boycotting during season 3 once they saw their ships had no chance at surviving coming to complain about how much they miss r*ni and how despite so many things proving otherwise, they would've been the real "endgame" of the show. i genuinely think a lot of it not only has to do with the fact that a lot of r*nis were also j*livias, which honestly has to be one of the biggest reasons the ship saw any semblance of hype to begin with, because the material alone is simply and never has been there. but since they're j*livias, they're perpetually stuck in season 1, unable to move on from it and unable to accept that any other ship could've been endgame just because they got theirs almost three years ago at this point.

it doesn't help that a lot of locals are r*nis, and most of them have abandoned the show or claim that the later seasons are inferior because of nostalgia and refusal to accept the ships that ended up happening because it didn't align with what their idea of the show was. so unfortunately, they remain to be loud and bitter. i honestly thought they'd shut up after season 3, but rina being endgame really ended up driving them to the brink of insanity.

overall, it's still fun to relish in the fact that we did get the endgame no matter how many people are bitter about it. just annoying to see the same tired discourse pop up over and over again. especially because, had they actually been right (and we all know they aren't) what is it going to change? they even gave them p*rtwell when ricky and gina weren't together and that still ended up crashing and burning just as much as r*ni did.

at the end of the day, r*nis are just bitter that the show didn't end with ricky single and pining for nini. most of them didn't even actually ship p*rtwell either because they hated (and some still do) gina and barely began tolerating ej until he got out of the way of r*ni. they would have rather had the show end with ricky being single if it wasn't going to be nini to come running back to him despite feeling suffocated by him. r*ni was practically their last existing lifeline to j*livia, and since they didn't get it, all they can do is complain.

[saltymcsaltything]

Today would have been my mom's 79th birthday. I miss her so much. I never had a chance to talk to her about my gender or my Autism/ADHD diagnosis because I didn't realize or even allow myself to learn about either until after she was gone.

Her death was one of the main catalysts that led to my diagnosis and self discovery, because it was so traumatic losing someone I loved so much and who always made me feel safe. With her death I no longer had my refuge - losing my Dad three days after her birthday 21 years ago when I was still trying to find my way in the world rocked me and I did not process it well. I still have nightmares about it. Losing Mom was even more devastating - not because we were closer (we were, but only because I didn't have much time with Dad as an adult), but because losing her was losing them both forever. In a way, it felt like they were both still there as long as she was alive. She was my link to him and his life.

I miss her so much it physically hurts. I still catch myself thinking that I should call her or send her an email. This year, what is always a bad week has been especially bad, because she would have been the person I would have gone to in order to help me process some of the rage I am struggling with over the violence I witness against people I care about - and this isn't just about what's going on here. Being involved in workplace advocacy IRL has meant bearing witness to abuse by those in power and watching kind, dedicated people suffer at the hands of people who are never held accountable. Being directly abused by management and coworkers, physically, emotionally and sexually, and enduring the same from classmates and teachers, is why I have PTSD. Seeing violence against adults in IRL and online spaces where we once felt safe is infuriating and triggering, but seeing violence against children here and abroad is almost too much to bear.

Mom and Dad were both violently abused and did everything they could to protect my brothers and I from what they endured. They fought for us against bullying that teachers and administrators ignored, and they fought against abusive teachers. My parents were the safe place for family and friends when they fled abusive relationships and parents. And when Mom dipped a toe online on LiveJournal and saw abusers and bigots brazenly posting about horrible things they had done, and even worse whining about facing the tiniest bit of accountability, she went ballistic. When she picked apart abusers on LJ, she did so in a way that was as well argued, fact-based and unassailingly meticulous with receipts as it was venomous. I don't know how she managed to pull it off - I don't have the way with words or the ability to laser focus my anger the way she did.

The largest part of me just wants to be safe in a community of people who understand me again, but there is a part of me that feels that will never happen and wants to inflict as much pain on those responsible as possible. I try very hard not to be vindictive and aggressive, but I was also taught that if I am ever forced to fight for my own safety, that honor and restraint are lies made up by abusers to keep their victims under control. I want to bite throats and gouge eyeballs because my mind and body are screaming that it's the only way it will ever stop.

I couldn't always fight back. I freeze and falter. I did not have the same strength that my parents had. I wish I could channel that. I wish I could summon their spirits and curse the bullies, abusers, oppressors and murderers of this world with getting verbally eviscerated and physically demolished by the ghosts of my parents for the rest of their miserably short existence. I wish I could summon the white hot blowtorch of their protective rage.

I want to watch them burn it all down, every system of oppression, every monster, every warmonger, every abuser, every rapist, every predator and every enabler.

[jay88de]

Classism

I'll rumble here, let the words out so I can go about my day.

I'm fascinated by classism, which is a recent development, more heavily since five years ago. Certain things in my life forced me to notice it and look at it especially the times when I did not want to admit they existed. But they do and boy, is it serious.

How one lives, what one knows, who one knows, how one makes associations, how one uses language, and who one becomes friends with. When I was younger, my dad always wanted me to go to the best schools in our town or city. He'd say that was where I was to meet tangible friends, friends with a family name worth knowing, who I could call on in the future. I cannot say I made those friends in my primary secondary and high school, whom I can call on today, but I can say I got a good education, which made a lot of difference. I know it did from how I speak, and how I synthesise information; when I had difficulties as a kid, my parents got me tutors until they found the one who made all the difference, they could afford it.

Even in the same household, my brothers didn't get as much as I did. Different financial circumstances, different situations and this shows. It shows in how we think about our lives and the decisions we've made. I didn't grow up poor and I have never been poor.

I have had money issues but not poor, not destitute. I've never had to do just anything for money. For a long time, I didn't realise what a privilege this is.

I think about classism because, the older I get the greater the divide has gotten. In the small town I grew up in, most people weren't exactly middle class, but they lived comfortably. There was a social cohesion in the town that enabled people to have something to live on, no matter what they earned. I rarely saw people beg on the streets, except cripples at the main market gates. Fine, maybe my dad had more money than some of my friends but it wasn't obvious because some of those friends had everything else I had. The only difference was the size of our house or the car in the yard. This was one of the only giveaway. There were richer children in school who went on holidays in America and Europe, still, though we all wished that for ourselves, it came and went as a passing thought. No stink to it. At the end of the day, we were all fine.

Until Nigeria. Being in Nigeria was my first encounter with what it meant to not have. Not having a certain income meant, the possibility of skipping meals, not having light, no running water and literally living in a house that was falling apart. This was my experience at my uncle's house. It was a real nightmare for me. I struggled so much, not so much about not having but about how I was expected to undress my personality to fit in. I had extra money to buy bread for the family and would be scared to do it because of how it would make them feel. My little town stories were such a stretch for my cousins, that I resolved to a lot of silence until I could leave. To add, I gained so much weight because of how inconsistent meals were and how they were mainly starch. So I learned to grow a large appetite to eat whenever I saw food. The house was barely cleaned, not because there was so little time, but because it simply wasn't a priority and so much time was spent on things that shouldn't matter. Religiosity was a big part of their routine. I was there three months and I recall never wanting to experience that in my life again. To them, my father was rich. No, he isn't, maybe at some point in his life but, yes, rich is relative.

Throughout university, I learned that looking a certain way and sounding a certain way got you more favours, this is a lesson I'm keeping. My mother taught me how to eat healthy and present myself more appropriately, I quickly learned how beauty is a useful tool and then I realised I have light-skinned privileges. And this is where it starts getting tricky because wherever there is a privilege, someone or some group has to pay a price for it.

Being in London, makes me realise that we have created a society that cannot continue sustaining itself and we now have two extremes continuing a long class war. I can't say I have sat with the extremely wealthy, no, not at the pounds level but I have sat with the upper middle class, they too are on a race to the next level. I have been with men who are wealthy, not sure about pounds, I'd say dollars. Every class has its characteristics. There are prevailing mindsets, traits and discontents. There is suffering on every level and the further on the spectrum you go, the suffering gets worse on different dimensions. It becomes like a cancer, ravaging a human's body. You could look at them and think, "Why not do this, or try that."

No, they cannot. Their minds are stuck and unless they can have a hardware update, they will continue doing what they have been doing. In the end, classism serves no one. However, saying that solves nothing, we've all benefited and lost out from the class we were born into, the ones we now identify as. No two classes experience life in the same way and get this, as long as classism exists, competition will permeate the rule book of what a successful life looks like.

I maintain the happiest community I lived in was the one I grew up in where being poor wasn't glaring because not having money didn't entail bargaining with your human dignity. This community barely exist, classism, corruption and unfair resource allocation has stolen most of it.

This is really what classism is about, recourse allocation, access, the ability to choose, dignity of human life. Some people have more than they will ever need and the majority are scrapping for crumbs, in the end, we are all left disfigured by this useless fight.

I keep thinking about what I want to do with my life. I'll tell you; last and for the greater beginning of this year, I learned one thing, giving out money is not charity, it is essential. You do not do it because you are a good person, you do it to save yourself from damnation; from the slur of not having enough and needing to get more. Giving out is like the pill you need to take to stay healthy and normal. Honestly, charity connotes policing and more often than not, that's what happens, someone gives you something and then wants to see what you do with it. Or waits to see how you rejoice over it. As if...

Give it and not bother with it, whatever happens afterwards is out of your control and here's another interesting thing, people are not stupid, they usually already know what they want to do with money. Even if they fuck it up the first three or how many number of times, they will learn.

This is another mind fuck, classism and manners or financial lessons or how to say things or how to look, such bullshit all of it. Now, I can go back to studying at this rather expensive school... smh.

[smokeybrandreviews]

NBA Rant: World Champion for What

This stuff with Noah Lyles is hilarious because, technically, he ain't wrong. The fact that the US didn't even medal in FIBA, also goes a long way to prove his point. That said, the best players in the world do come here to hoop. I get both sides. The game has evolved and, while the level of NBA talent is still absolutely the best in the world, it's not like the world isn't catching up. A long time ago, we used to send college kids to compete in hoop against professionals from around the world. We won several gold medals until we lost one. The following world competition happened to be the '92 Olympic and the US sent the greatest NBA team ever assembled to absolutely embarrass the rest of the globe. And we did just that, however, it lit a match under the ass under the ass of the international game and they went to work. It's been thirty years since the first Dream Team busted ass across Barcelona and the international game is producing players almost as good as some of those guys who ran alongside Jordan. The Eurogame is all grind, fundamentals, skill, and hard work. If we're being honest, the US game has fallen sharply in terms of skill and relies too much on athletic talent. Why do you think guys go overseas and get exposed in Euroleauges?

The problem most US citizens have is the fact we do not see the game of basketball as a properly global one. For us, especially black kids from the ghetto, it’s intrinsically American. More to the point, it’s intrinsically black and black people are uniquely American. Way back when the NBA first started, there were no other participants around the world. It's American invention. For about a third of the NBA’s existence, the US WAS the world to the league. I mean, the simple answer, and probably the truest one, is that World Champion sounded cool and looks good on the trophy. That’s probably it. Hell, baseball calls their championship game the “World Series” so this argument can be made for that, too. Ultimately, this sh*t basically boils down to a very narrow US focus. We don’t value FIBA or “world” games unless it’s the Olympics. We are taught, early on, that the Olympics are the end all, be all, of global competition even though, technically, they’re not. No one else but the US takes that sh*t as serious. Well, maybe the host country but the United States puts so much weight on Olympic gold, it’s stupid. That is something, to this day, I never fully understood.

If you can’t tell, I’m in Lyles’ camp on this one. Calling a national title anything more than that is dumb to me. Especially when there are world games basically held every other year. I’ve watched the NBA for three decades, man. I know for a fact that the talent pool across the world has caught up. Cats like Giannis and Luka are out here running circles around our home grown guys, strictly because they had to have the skill to dominate in their respective leagues. Giannis is an athletic freak, for sure, but Luka? That dude is basically Dirk 2.0 and making our best talent look like clowns. With no vertical. Like, kid has a four inch jump but dog-walks most teams night in and night out. Basketball has truly become a global game and should absolutely be embraced as such here in the states. We shouldn’t refer to the winners of the NBA Championship as “World Champions” because they’re not. They are NBA Champions. I absolutely believe that the NBA is the premier league in the world. The best to ever play, play in The Association, regardless of where they are from. Luka and Giannis play in the NBA. Jokic, Duncan, and Ginobli. But also Jordan, Kobe, Magic, Curry, Steph, and LeBron. The best to ever do it, are from the US. The best to ever do it, are black kids from the ghetto. Still, it’s more than presumptuous to call our title, a world title, when Team USA just got beat by Canada in the actual world games, getting bounced out of medal contention in the process.

[smokeybrand]

NBA Rant: World Champion for What

This stuff with Noah Lyles is hilarious because, technically, he ain't wrong. The fact that the US didn't even medal in FIBA, also goes a long way to prove his point. That said, the best players in the world do come here to hoop. I get both sides. The game has evolved and, while the level of NBA talent is still absolutely the best in the world, it's not like the world isn't catching up. A long time ago, we used to send college kids to compete in hoop against professionals from around the world. We won several gold medals until we lost one. The following world competition happened to be the '92 Olympic and the US sent the greatest NBA team ever assembled to absolutely embarrass the rest of the globe. And we did just that, however, it lit a match under the ass under the ass of the international game and they went to work. It's been thirty years since the first Dream Team busted ass across Barcelona and the international game is producing players almost as good as some of those guys who ran alongside Jordan. The Eurogame is all grind, fundamentals, skill, and hard work. If we're being honest, the US game has fallen sharply in terms of skill and relies too much on athletic talent. Why do you think guys go overseas and get exposed in Euroleauges?

The problem most US citizens have is the fact we do not see the game of basketball as a properly global one. For us, especially black kids from the ghetto, it’s intrinsically American. More to the point, it’s intrinsically black and black people are uniquely American. Way back when the NBA first started, there were no other participants around the world. It's American invention. For about a third of the NBA’s existence, the US WAS the world to the league. I mean, the simple answer, and probably the truest one, is that World Champion sounded cool and looks good on the trophy. That’s probably it. Hell, baseball calls their championship game the “World Series” so this argument can be made for that, too. Ultimately, this sh*t basically boils down to a very narrow US focus. We don’t value FIBA or “world” games unless it’s the Olympics. We are taught, early on, that the Olympics are the end all, be all, of global competition even though, technically, they’re not. No one else but the US takes that sh*t as serious. Well, maybe the host country but the United States puts so much weight on Olympic gold, it’s stupid. That is something, to this day, I never fully understood.

If you can’t tell, I’m in Lyles’ camp on this one. Calling a national title anything more than that is dumb to me. Especially when there are world games basically held every other year. I’ve watched the NBA for three decades, man. I know for a fact that the talent pool across the world has caught up. Cats like Giannis and Luka are out here running circles around our home grown guys, strictly because they had to have the skill to dominate in their respective leagues. Giannis is an athletic freak, for sure, but Luka? That dude is basically Dirk 2.0 and making our best talent look like clowns. With no vertical. Like, kid has a four inch jump but dog-walks most teams night in and night out. Basketball has truly become a global game and should absolutely be embraced as such here in the states. We shouldn’t refer to the winners of the NBA Championship as “World Champions” because they’re not. They are NBA Champions. I absolutely believe that the NBA is the premier league in the world. The best to ever play, play in The Association, regardless of where they are from. Luka and Giannis play in the NBA. Jokic, Duncan, and Ginobli. But also Jordan, Kobe, Magic, Curry, Steph, and LeBron. The best to ever do it, are from the US. The best to ever do it, are black kids from the ghetto. Still, it’s more than presumptuous to call our title, a world title, when Team USA just got beat by Canada in the actual world games, getting bounced out of medal contention in the process.