#i just translated it based on its meaning at the end

[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[costumersupportdept]

I have developed a Theory that the reason so many theaters seem to have absolutely batshit bureaucratic/management problems is a twofold miasma of stupidity that it takes a lot of willpower/clarity to NOT get sucked into.

1)The Peter Principle/"failing up." Laurence J Peter describes this as "employees (being) promoted based on their success in previous jobs until they reach a level at which they are no longer competent, as skills in one job do not necessarily translate to another. " I, while a pretty good draper (costume patternmaker) and a reasonably good costume team lead, am absolutely abhorrent at dealing with paperwork beyond what I need to do the actual costuming. I do not enjoy or do well with spreadsheets or budgeting or trying to assemble work calendars. I do not want to do jobs that take that.

HOWEVER: Miasma 2.

2) The only way to get paid more is to move up (usually). This means that if I want to make more than I'm currently making at the top of one hierarchy, I have to move into a different one, and that one is the personnel management and spreadsheet one. Since theater is a low paying gig at the best of times, people will generally jump at chances to make more money if they can get them.

Which creates its own twofold nightmare- people who get promoted may not actually know what they're doing in the spreadsheets and personnel end of the world, AND/OR you've just taken a Really Good artist out of the Art end of things and plopped them into the Paperwork end of things, sometimes with a promise that they will still get to Art (spoiler, that rarely works out).

So SINCE theater is a mediocre paying job AT BEST, there's almost an enforced scramble into higher and higher levels *away* from The Art, which means (back to the Peter Principle) you wind up with admin folks who may have been great artists, but are NOT equipped be businesspeople or Leaders of Men (in the generic) at all.

And it takes a LOT of stubborn refusal to budge and boundary drawing to be a person who WANTS TO STAY IN THE ART, because that subtle/sometimes not subtle push upwards for $$ is always happening.

Now, how do we fix it? Well, it's going to have to be a multipronged approcach, but I know we could START with paying the Art Level Folks more to calm down the aggressive climb upwards.

[juniperskye]

I Never Do This.

Based on the following ask: Aaron wakes up naked in an equally naked stranger's bed after a drunken one-night stand (possibly leading to more?) but he's so embarrassed (and hungover) because he never does stuff like that. Reader makes him breakfast and coffee and tries to reassure him that it's okay, it's normal, etc. And that for a guy who was blackout drunk and doesn't even remember, he still performed very well in bed! @nyxwolph thank you for requesting this!

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Smut/Fluff

Word count: 2909

Not edited - please be kind.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, language, explicit description of sexual activity, mentions of alcohol, intoxication, mention of the BAU team and a case (no details), mention of divorce (celebrating a divorce), let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Aaron’s head was pounding, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened last night. He rolled over in bed, stretching his arm out, to be met with the warmth of someone’s body. Aaron’s arm retreated back to his side and his eyes shot open, a new pain rushing to his head from the harsh morning sun. He found his gaze dragging down the expanse of this stranger’s body, she was laying face down, her hair sprawled across her pillow.

Aaron couldn’t help the heat that came to his face as he noticed your lack of clothing. He glanced down at himself and felt embarrassed at the fact that he too was stark naked. He tried his hardest to recall the details of last night, he didn’t do one-night stands. Hell, he didn’t do anything without careful deliberation.

He remembers going to the bar with the team after the case they’d just closed, they had all definitely deserved to let loose. He remembers the first glass of whiskey, and then Morgan bringing a round of tequila shots over, then the second round of shots from Garcia, then the next whiskey Dave brought to him and God, how many drinks had he consumed last night.

His thoughts were interrupted as you started to stir, rolling over to face him, your eyes still closed. The heat returned to his face as the sheet slipped, exposing your breasts as you turned.

“Mmm, good morning Aaron.” You mumbled.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile at your adorable morning voice, laced with sleep.

“Good morning...” He replied, mentally chastising himself for not knowing your name.

You could sense the awkward pause at the end of his greeting, like he wanted to say more, but didn’t or couldn’t. Your mind drifted to last night, he was drunk, truthfully you too had been pretty drunk…having gone out with your friends to celebrate the finalization of your friend’s divorce (her ex was a real piece of work, and it was truly a blessing). You had probably indulged in one too many green tea shots but this handsome gentleman in your bed had been a welcome souvenir of last night’s festivities. Ahh, that must be the reason for his pause… he probably didn’t remember your name.

You finally opened your eyes and scanned his face; he was absolutely gorgeous. You couldn’t help but admire his features as you reintroduced yourself to him. A small smile graced his lips as he heard your name.

“I’m sorry.” He let out a breath.

“No worries! You up for some breakfast? Oh, and there’s aspirin on the side table” You offered.

“Oh, um thanks, and yeah maybe. I just, I think it’s worth mentioning, I never do this sort of thing.” Aaron sat up and rubbed the back of his neck as a blush creeped its way onto his cheeks.

“That’s okay! I don’t really either. Pancakes?” You moved to get out of bed, grabbing a t-shirt and slipping it over your head.

“No, I mean it. I don’t think I have ever had a one-night stand.” Aaron reiterated, visibly cringing at how crass it sounded.

His comment probably should have offended you, implying that perhaps this was a common occurrence for you. But you couldn’t help but sympathize with the man in front of you. Not only was he clearly embarrassed about the fact that he’d engaged in casual sex, but also that he seemingly put his foot in his mouth.

“Aaron, it’s okay, seriously.” You moved to sit at the foot of the bed, reaching gently for his hand. “First of all, you have just as much right as anyone else to let loose and go home with a stranger. Secondly there is no need to worry, this is a judgement free zone we are both consenting adults. And third, despite being three sheets to the wind, the sex was amazing.” You smiled softly.

Aaron let out a breath he had no idea he was holding. “Thank you. Truly.” Aaron said, his gaze shifting to your hand clasped in his own.

“So, how about that breakfast?”

“That would be great.” Aaron moved to get up, looking for his boxers.

You reached to grab them off the floor, handing them to him before making your way to the kitchen, wanting to give him that bit of privacy.

“Alright I have everything to make pancakes, eggs, and bacon! Does that sound okay?” You looked back to the bedroom.

“That sounds amazing.” Aaron came to sit at one of the bar stools resting at the kitchen island.

Aaron watched as you flitted around the kitchen, grabbing all the necessary ingredients to make the breakfast you’ve promised. Reaching for various pans and mixing bowls. He glanced around your apartment, taking in the space. It was pretty eclectic, you had books, trinkets, jewelry, and clothes strewn about, not in a messy way, but in a way that everything had a place. You had clearly worked hard to make this home and he had to admit, it was really cozy.

As his gaze shifted back to you, he noticed you struggling to reach the box of pancake mix on the top shelf. He stood and made his way to you, his front pressing against your back as he reached for it. A soft gasp escaped you as he brought the box down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Yeah.” Aaron nodded in return. “How can I help?”

“Oh um, do you want to cook the eggs?” You turned to meet his gaze.

“Absolutely.”

The two of you were in sync, working around one another while preparing breakfast. You had been making casual chit chat with one another and it had felt so natural to be here with him, no awkwardness in this moment. The two of you plated everything up and moved to your small dining table.

“You know, I didn’t mean anything by my comment earlier. About one-night stands. There’s nothing wrong with them, it’s just I don’t typically participate in them. I just, I don’t want you to think I was judging you because truly I wasn’t.” Aaron rambled.

“Aaron, it’s okay! Honest. I don’t typically go home with strangers either. Last night I was out with friends, I saw you and then they all suggested I take a chance and approach you. And well, here we are.” You let out a quiet laugh.

“I’m glad I’m here.” Aaron smiled. “I appreciate that you’ve been so understanding and patient with me this morning.”

Aaron and you ate while exchanging information about yourselves. He was an incredible listener and you felt so comfortable talking with him. You had to remind yourself that this might not go any further than today, so you needed to enjoy it while it lasted.

You had decided that Aaron’s laugh was your new favorite sound, and it pains you to know that sound are the first memories to fade, because his laugh was sweet like honey, and you so wished to savor it. You’d have to settle for the wrinkles on the outer edges of his eyes as they squeezed shut, how his head would fall back just a bit, and how the corners of his lips would tilt up ever so slightly as his laugh rang out – that would be enough to remember how wonderful he is.

Aaron’s stomach dropped thinking that perhaps his time with you was nearing its end. Your face had grown quite serious, and he wondered if you were ready for him to leave you in peace. He had been having so much fun, more than he’d care to admit. He figured he could buy himself a little more time if he offered to help with the dishes…then he would leave. He’d have to hold on to the warmth and comfort your presence brought to him, savor it for as long as he could.

“Let me help you clean up!” Aaron said standing and taking your plates over to the sink.

“Oh, thank you! You don’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.” You smile at him.

“It’s the least I can do.” He returned your smile.

The two of you had silently agreed; Aaron would wash, and you would dry. This went on in silence for a few minutes, your fingers brushing every time Aaron passed you something…each one sending a shock throughout your nervous system.

Aaron moved to pass you a handful of silverware, his hand enveloping yours as he hands them over. You allow your gaze to meet his and felt all resolve slip away.

“Fuck it.” You said dropping the silverware in the sink, crashing your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

Aaron’s hands wrapped around your middle as he met your pace, you were relieved by his physical response to you. One of his hands was wrapped securely around your middle and the other found its way up to the back of your head, tangling itself in your hair. He gave a gentle tug, causing you to gasp, allowing his tongue access to your mouth.

The kiss continued on for a few moments before you pulled back for air. Aaron let his hands slide down your body stopping only to give your ass a gentle squeeze before landing on the backs of your thighs, he gives you a knowing look before lifting you. You wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, allowing your hands to explore the hair at the nape of his neck and your lips to travel the expanse of his jaw.

He brings you back to your room, gently setting you on the bed before pulling your shirt over your head. You move to lay back, completely bare before him. He allows himself to admire your form.

“You’re perfect.” It comes out as a whisper, like a secret meant only for you.

He slides his boxers down his legs and makes his way up the mattress to you, scattering sweet kisses across your skin along the way. You reach for his face, bringing him up to meet your lips once more, losing yourself in him. His hands are caressing your breasts, cheeks, hips, thighs…they’re everywhere all at once, his touch leaving your breathless. Aaron begins to trail his kisses downward your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, breasts, stomach, hips, moving in to where you wanted him most.

His lips ghosted over your clit pressing so lightly. It sent a shock through your system, your body arching into his. He slid his arms under and around your thighs, holding them in place as he dove in, licking a stripe over your glistening slit before finding purchase on your clit he switched between licking and sucking, causing you to whimper in pleasure.  Aaron releases one of your legs, bringing his fingers to your entrance, carefully slipping two in, curling them upwards at just the right moment.

You couldn’t help but cry out his name, if he was good last night, then he was a professional today – you were sure that you’d never experience anything this good ever again (not if it wasn’t with him). Aaron picked up his speed at your cry, which he’s decided is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, so much so that you don’t even have time to warn Aaron. Though he’s not exactly surprised when your release gushes over his fingers, having felt your walls tighten around his fingers, legs shaking, fingers tugging his hair and your back arching up off the bed.

He removes his fingers from your wet heat with care and licks one last stripe over your slit before coming face to face with you. You’re a mess, skin glistening with sweat, hair simultaneously stuck to your forehead and in tangles at your neck from you writhing. Aaron sweeps the hair off of your forehead and behind your ear, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss. You utilize this moment to guide him by his shoulders to lay on his back.

You wedge yourself between his legs as you let your tongue drag over his tip, catching the bead of precum that’s gathered there. Aaron hisses at the brief pleasure – sensitive and so ready for you. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, the corners of your mouth stretching to accommodate his size. You lower your head down until your nose bushes the patch of hair at the base, holding still there momentarily. You let your hand softly grip his balls, sure to tend to them as you find a rhythm, moving your head up and down Aaron’s thick cock.

He was struggling to compose himself; grunts, groans, hisses, whispers of your name all escaping his lips as you took him down your throat. He needed you to pull away soon, or this would all end way before he wanted it to. With that being said, he tapped your shoulder gently to get your attention and motioned for you to come closer to him. He sat up to lean against your headboard and you found your way into his lap.

“As amazing as that was, I would really like to make up for last night.” Aaron said before leaning in to kiss you again.

“Aaron last night was amazing! But I’m not going to say no to you fucking me…” You said, blush creeping up your neck.

“Is that so?” He challenged.

“Yes.” You replied, lifting yourself to align his cock with your entrance before slowly sinking down.

The stretch was delicious as he was fully sated inside you. You started to move your hips as Aaron’s hands met your hips, helping to catch on to the rhythm. This position was so intimate, your chests pressed to one another, wrapped in each other’s arms, eyes holding contact, connected as one, moving in sync.

Last night had been sloppy. Getting tangled in clothing, drunken giggles, quick, messy, sex. This though, this couldn’t have been further from that. Slow, methodical movements, with a veil of vulnerability as you observed one another’s every expression, keen on making this last…making this a wonderful memory to be held onto for always.

It had started to become overwhelming to you, all of your senses were being consumed by Aaron and with such intense pleasure filling your soul, you couldn’t help the tears that slipped from your eyes. Seeing a flash of panic in Aaron’s face had you leaning in to steal a kiss, expressing to him that you were okay, hell, more than okay.

Your rhythm began to faulter as the two of you neared climax. Aaron could tell you needed a little push before you could meet him in extasy, so he slid his hand between you, letting his fingers brush over your sensitive bud. It was all you had needed before the wave crashed over you and of course the grip you’d had on Aaron allowed for his own release, filling you with his warmth.

You sat there for a moment before Aaron shifted the two of you further down the bed, so you were laid on top of him, still filled with Aaron’s cock. Neither of you moved, save for Aaron’s hand that was tracing patterns on your skin, for what felt like an eternity.

“We should get cleaned up.” He whispered, his lips pressing to your hairline.

“Do we have to?” You asked, fully knowing the answer.

You were careful in removing yourself from Aaron’s embrace, not wanting to hurt him or make even more of a mess in your bed. You motioned for him to follow you into the bathroom, and you started up the shower.

“We can rinse off, get dressed, then I can walk you out…” You suggested trying to hide your disappointment.

“Okay.” Aaron agreed.

The shower hadn’t been sexual, just the two of you washing one another’s body and letting the hot water soothe your muscles. Once you were clean, Aaron exited the shower to grab your towel, quickly wrapping it around you as you stepped out. Aaron used the other hanging towel to dry himself off quickly, both of you heading back to the bedroom.

You each dressed yourselves, not daring to make eye contact, both afraid to say goodbye. Neither wanting this to end, this little bubble you’ve found yourselves in far too warm and cozy to pop…not yet. Not ever. You didn’t want this to be all the time you had with Aaron. You couldn’t let the opportunity to see him again pass you by…take the leap.

“Aaron, would you um, maybe want to do this again?” You asked, hopeful.

“Like I said before, I never do this kind of thing.” He shook his head.

You felt totally embarrassed, having must’ve misread the whole interaction. But there is no way, right? After all that, he’s going to pretend like there’s no spark at all. You could feel the heat taking over your face, anger and mortification alike taking hold of your body. But then he continued…

“One-night stands aren’t exactly my thing. I’m more of a formal date kind of guy so, could we exchange phone numbers, and then perhaps I can take you to dinner some time?”

Relief flooded your entire being so quickly, the tension falling from your shoulders. The heat slowly fading away from your face.

“I would really love that.”

[princessoflalaland]

Wanna Try Something New?.✶⋆.˚꩜˙⋆✶

synopsis: pegging your boyfriend, geto suguru. that's literally it. nothing more, nothing less.

꩜˙⋆✶content: geto suguru x fem!reader, smut, anal, fingering, pegging, dirty talk, degradation laced with some praise, 69, begging, impact play

꩜˙⋆✶word count: 3.5k

꩜˙⋆✶a/n: I saw this one thing in a jjk link post about pegging geto, and I honestly couldn't get him, or the thought of pounding his ass until he screams, out of my sick head. i mayyyy have fangirled over him as i wrote this because its geto suguru, who wouldn’t?

“would you let me peg you?”

it’s a beautiful Saturday spent inside watching bad horror movies with your boyfriend. your head lay comfortably on his lap, cheek pressing against the smooth fabric of his pajama pants. you tilt your head, peering over your shoulder to gauge his reaction. 

suguru’s violet, catlike eyes are slightly widened in amused shock. the beginnings of a smile toy with the corner of his lips as the subconscious stroking of his hand on your hip ceases. “what?” he asks with a chuckle. 

“would you let me peg you?" you kindly repeat. the glitter in your eyes is the only thing indicating that you’re only partially joking. there’s a hint of real curiosity in your voice that suguru wishes he could ignore.

“i mean…” he tears his eyes away from yours for a moment, thinking. “i dunno, honestly. i’ve never really thought of something like that.”

bunching your lips to one side, you go back to watching tv. “that’s alright. i was just wondering is all.”

your boyfriend sighs contentedly. “alright.”

you aren’t disappointed, not completely at least. you stumbled across a special twitter account recently, and just couldn’t get the thought of reenacting everything you’d seen with suguru. you couldn’t get the bitchy moans the men made out of your head, or the expressions they made.

taking those faces and translating them onto your significant other turns you on more than you care to admit. the content you’ve been ingesting flickers across your mind, the sounds repeating like a catchy song. you nuzzle your cheek against his crotch, feeling the imprint of suguru’s cock against your face.

“bored of the movies already?” suguru whispers, his fingers gliding over your body to your clothed pussy in response to your nuzzles. he rubs his thick digits right on your clit, making you clench your thighs closed.

“just a little.” you reply breathily. you kiss his growing bulge, listening to him groan. “i have an idea of something else we can do…”

“mm, ‘m way ahead of ya,” he smiles. in seconds, you two have shifted down onto the couch, your shorts are pulled to the side, pussy glistening in his face as you free his cock from his grey sweats.

“so pretty.” suguru sighs, like he’s observing a piece of art. his warm breath hits you, sending shivers rippling up your spine. he attaches his lips to your folds, fighting back a moan as your taste explodes over his tongue.

in his eyes, everything about you is a work of art. from the way you roll your eyes at inconveniences, to the way you laugh loudly and unapologetically, to how your hips naturally dip a little. you’re his goddess, and now he’ll worship you like one.

he laps leisurely at your cunt, addicted to you all over again. you lick a long strip from his base to his tip, making his thighs flex.

“mm, shit.” suguru hums, “do that again, baby.” you oblige with a giggle, then down him in one go, eyes rolling back as he fills your throat perfectly. “fffuck, yeah.”

you two exchange moans on the other, causing a never ending cycle of ecstasy to circulate between the the two of you. one of your hands snakes under his thigh to fondle his balls. your boyfriend shivers when your manicured fingers grasp him.

“ah, agh, y/n.” his masculine whimpers are music to your ears. “shound sho pretty, shugu,” you say around a mouthful of him. “sho pretty.” suguru feels his balls clench at the compliment. it’s not often someone calls him pretty, especially, surprisingly, his own girlfriend. he’d tell you to say it again, but he can’t seem to detach his mouth from your delicious, weeping pussy.

you bob your head on his cock, his tip gliding against the back of your throat easily with the absence of your gag reflex. your saliva pools at his base, some dripping down to where fingers play with his scrotum.

an idea forms slowly in your head as your boyfriend traces the inside of you with his tongue. his big, calloused hands hooked under your thighs, preventing you from squirming away from his fervent eating. you stop fondling him to collect the saliva that rests on his pretty, dark pubes onto your fingers. you suckle on his tip, tongue sliding against his slit mercilessly, to catch a glimpse of him.

he’s still completely enraptured with making out with your cunt, it looks like, making you ever wetter with his groans and him sucking sweetly on your clit. carefully, bottoming him out in your throat as a slight distraction, you let your wet digits wander to his asshole, spreading spit around his unbelievably tight hole.

suguru jolts, his surprise causing him to abruptly stop what he’s doing. “w-what are you- ahh! ohh, God…” his head falls back against the couch cushions, his breath stuttering, heat filling his entire body.

the sensation is…foreign. he’s never explored that area of himself, nor did he ever think he would. suguru assumed he’d always be the one fucking or fingering someone. but, as your curious fingers gently prod at his puckered asshole, he cant deny the butterflies going haywire in his gut, or stifle the high-pitched whines and moans floating effortlessly from his moist lips.

“y-y/n, what are you d-doin?” he gasps. the very tip of you index finger has penetrated him, and it feels like his brain is melting from the pleasure. “oh my God, baby. that’s- you’re- aghn, c-can’t think..”

his inability to formulate coherent sentences is a good sign, at least to you. “d’ya like it? like having my fingers playing with your cute ass?” your voice is sickly sweet, makes his brain even mushier than it already is.

“gotta say something, love.” you remove your finger, making him gasp.

“n-no, put it back!” suguru pleads. he hasn’t experienced being fingered for long, but it’s like he can’t go without the sensation now that he’s had a taste. he pants, looking around your body at the Cheshire smile gracing your beautiful face.

“please, y/n, love. p-put it back, please…” he tries not to sound like he’s begging, but that doesn’t work to well when his words are breathy and full of desperation. this new kind of need, the way his eyes widen with the ache to have your soft fingers in his ass, fills you with power, with dominance you didn't know you needed.

"say it properly. tell me exactly what you want." your fingers tease the smooth skin surrounding the place he so desperately wanted them. he whines, hips grinding against the couch.

"please, i- i want your fingers in my ass. i need it, need them, please!" the small whine that follows his words is the cherry on top.

“okay, but only because you asked so nicely. dont forget what you should be doing back there.” you both resume giving each other mind-boggling head, suguru’s pathetic sounds go straight into your pussy, adding pressure to your lower stomach.

his sphincter muscles spasm around your digit, signaling that he’s going to cum. you suck ferociously on him, groaning hunrgily, beckoning his cum to spill onto your tongue.

“mmph, ‘m gonna cum..gonna cum, y/n.” he mumbles into your cunt, which he struggles to lick as his orgasm crashes down onto him. you pop him out of your mouth and use your other hand to help him along, letting his seed spurt onto your face.

“ah, yes,” you whisper darkly watching him jerk slightly under your touch. “so good for me, sugu, so good..”

he’s breathless, dazed when its all over. you sit upright on his chest, looking over your shoulder at him so he can see the result of his orgasm. seeing your cummed-on face makes him hard all over again.

over the next week, suguru cannot get that moment out of his head. he can’t believe how insanely good it felt to have something inside him. he’s conflicted though: is it less masculine to enjoy being fingered? does it make him less of a man to want to beg for his pleasure?

is it bad that he wants, no, needs something bigger in him? that he needs to venture into that part of intimacy or he feels like he’ll lose his damn mind?

one night, while you were out with some friends, suguru logs into twitter and checks your following. he finds the account that’s ignited your curiosities, and finds himself becoming painfully hard at the things he sees.

one guy, a rather well-built blonde, chokes shamelessly on his lady’s strap before he takes it like a champ in his ass, crying his pleasure and begging for her praise. suguru breathes harshly through his nose, his eyes are glued to his screen.

never, in a million years, would he expect to be aroused by something like this. can it really feel that good? the guy in the video makes it seem like it sure as hell does. he palms himself over his boxers, groaning lowly. his eyes flicker to the bedroom door and he listens, making sure he’s still home alone.

suguru shimmies his briefs down just enough to get his hard dick out. he inhales sharply, dragging his fist from the tip to the base. he replays the video for reference for his own fantasies, ingesting every second like it’ll be the last thing he ever sees. then, he tosses his phone aside, already panting.

God, what he would give to be in that guy’s place and have you in the woman’s. he would swallow your strap so well, let it stretch his throat, let himself be the perfect fleshlight for you. he’d listen and memorize the praise you’d give him like a scripture from the Bible.

suguru’s hand speeds up, soft whimpers falling from his lips. his other hand glides over his perfect abs, toward his dark brown nipples. he pinches the bud between his fingers, moaning desperately. his heart thuds heavily in his chest, his conscience trying to make sense of what the fuck he’s feeling.

what man gets turned on at the thought of getting fucked rather than fucking? why does he so badly want to feel his girlfriend’s skin slap against his as she pounds into him ruthlessly?

that image, you behind him, pegging him while stroking him the way he’s doing it now, makes him arch his back off the bed.

oh, God, how good that’d feel, having his ass stretched like that. the fingers playing with his nipple suddenly find themselves near his ass, pressing tentatively to it. he lubes his fingers up with his saliva, then carefully inserts one into himself. the intrusion, the fervent way he jerks off, the erotic fantasy that dances behind his eyelids, all of it makes his breath stop short in his throat, makes his balls tighten and his moans impudently louder.

as he cums on himself, he cries your name, begging you, thanking you for this climax. he lays in the aftermath of his little session, blushing wildly, as he thinks about his next steps. his first should probably be to clean up, then maybe order a strap on and figure out how to break this down to you.

“and you’re sure you wanna go through with this?” you ask for the fifth time. suguru sighs, exasperated at the fact that you’re still questioning him about this.

“yes, babe, I’m sure. it’s so funny how you were the one to offer this and now you won’t stop asking if I wanna do it. So for the last time, my answer is yes, I want this.” you smile at his attitude, finding it cute that he’s being so bratty.

"no harm in makin sure you're okay with this," you reply with a chuckle, securing the pretty pink strap on he purchased to your naked lower half. "can't believe you'd be so eager for this, 'specially since you were hesitant before." you meet his eyes, there’s a glimmer in yours that makes his heart flutter. "thanks for being so open, suguru."

"of course, babe. now..." he leers at you in all your nude glory as you crawl over to where he lays on his back on your shared kingsized bed. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't equal parts terrified and horny.

you lean over and kiss him, sensing his subtle apprehension. "please, don't hesitate to tell me if your uncomfortable, okay? I want us both to enjoy this." he cups the sides of your neck and pulls you into another, deeper kiss. his tongue slow dances with yours, drawing a soft moan from you.

"I will, I promise." he utters when you two part. you're a little flustered at this point; his kisses have a way of short-circuiting your entire system.

you squirt a dollop of lube onto his asshole, hearing him hiss, and looking up at him with a tinge of worry. his breathing staggers, but he assures you he's okay.

"it's fine, it's just..colder than I expected. and I didn't think you'd- ohhh God." you don't let him finish after he's confirmed he's okay, slipping a finger into him. a smile cracks onto his face, he missed the feeling more than he anticipated.

you study your boyfriend, watch him slowly come undone under you gentle touch. "likin' this, sugu?" you coo, sinking your finger deeper into his tight, greedy walls.

"m-mhm." suguru hums. his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he tucks it between his teeth. "f-feels good."

"that's a good boy. always wanna make my pretty slut feel good." his dick jumps at the degradation. so many kinks he didn't know he had are being unlocked.

you feel yourself getting wet, feeling it leak down your thighs at the state your boyfriend is in. he's never looked better: spread out for you to tease and torment in the sweetest ways possible. the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest, the red tint in his cheeks that spreads down to his neck, the way his tanned dick twitches as you add another finger, all of it mesmerizes you.

"I think you're good to go. whaddya say?" you ponder after another minute of fingering him. he climbs through the fog in his brain to answer you, his eyes still cloudy with arousal. "y-yeah, im ready. please, be gentle."

"I will," you whisper as you line yourself up with his entrance. his heart races crazily in his chest, like its trying to force its way out. the tip of the strap pokes him and he jumps a little.

"it's okay, I'll go slow." your reassurance calms him a little. first, the tip enters, and the stretch of his hole blanks out his mind. his head falls back onto the bed, his breathing labored. inch by inch, you penetrate your boyfriend, and with each inch he feels himself unraveling.

"oh my G-God, you're all the way in." he whimpers once you bottom out. "slow, please slow."

you only nod, a primal dominance having hijacked your mind. your thrusts are slow at first, wanting to abide by his wishes to not scare or hurt him. but with each moan, each whine that comes from suguru's lips, your control slips and you speed up.

"ah, ahh this is so- so fuck.. can’t think.” his grits through teeth. his sounds are so pretty, just like him. you now wholeheartedly believe that all men, regardless of how masculine they portray themselves to be, should be rendered to such a pathetic yet angelic state.

“aww, my slut feels so good he can’t think? does my cock feel that good, honey?” there goes that saccharine tone again, the one that makes his stomach tighten.

“y-yes, ‘s really good.” he mewls. as good as your dick feels in him, it’s somehow not enough. he needs to feel more, wants to get closer to that blissful release. so, he guides his hand down to his leaking cock, ready to pump himself to the rhythm of your thrusts.

you notice this and a sinister smirk curls your lips. you slap his hands away, watching his eyes widen with shock. "no touching. keep those hands on your chest, filthy fuckin whore."

your sudden meanness startles as much as it arouses suguru. he's never heard this kind of tone with you, and he's not afraid to admit that he likes it. "y-yes ma'am, 'm sorryy." he concedes breathlessly.

he’s cupping his large pecs like they're tits, the most perfect fucking tits. "there ya go, keep those hands to yourself. good whore." you sneer.

it's not long before he aches for more stimulation again. pinching his nipples, he gives you the saddest puppy dog eyes, "baby, t-touch me. 'm so leaky, please, n-need to feel your hand..!"

a firm slap to his thigh yanks a yelp out of him. "who the fuck do you think you're talking to? is that anyway to ask for anything? stupid slut.." you sound so mean, his dick twitches. "try again."

he swallows accumulated saliva and fails to speak. he can't seem to get around the wanton moans that endlessly slip past his lips. you slap his thigh again, reminding him of he wants.

"please, m-miss, please touch me. please touch my dick, 'm sorry for b-being so demanding. touch me, im beggin you!" drool slides down the side of his mouth, catching the light in the room.

“think you deserve it, deserve my touch? speak up, whore.” another spank, another howl-like moan.

“I don’t deserve it! I’m a dirty whore, i don deserve it, b-but please!” you like the way he lowers himself for you just for the sake of being pleasured, so you oblige, stroking his wet cock in time with your thrusts.

the slapping of your skin on his, the heat and vibrations from the impact of your slaps makes precum leak endlessly from his tip, helping you as you jerk him off, the way you speak to him like he's nothing fills his stomach with warm fuzziness that he's positive is not normal.

this is all he's dreamed of, he realizes. he's wanted this, wanted to be told what to do, wanted to be dominated. he could care less whether this makes him less of a man or not, it makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine, and that’s suguru cares about. “thank you, thank you..” he utters between moans like he’s praying. “thank youu..”

“takin me so well, sugu. makes me think you’ve taken cock before. well? you whore yourself out for any one else?” you’re panting from the exertion of thrusting into him. a thin film of sweat gleams on your skin, your pussy weeps for his cock. if he’s good, maybe you can use him to cum afterwards. “n-no, ‘m only a slut for you. need only your c-cock.” being on the delivery end of that word is something else, something he’ll probably (most definitely) never get tired of.

“aghn, wait, wait ‘m gonna cum! miss, p-please!” he wants this to last forever. as much as he wants to cum, to spray it all over himself like the nasty little cockwhore he is, he doesn’t want this feeling to end.

“aw yeah? My cockslut’s gonna cum? hmm?” your sugary tone builds the pressure in his core. “I think I’ll let you. mhm, cum all over yourself f’me.”

you jerk him faster, pound into him harder. the tip jabs at his prostrate with unforgiving force, making his moans border screams. “miss, miss i’m gonna cuuumm!” tears slip down his face into his ears, momentarily muffling the world.

“then cum, bitch. cum for your mistress.” that word feels so right in regards to you. you snap your hips with a level of expertise that he has when fucks you senseless. “cum for me, cum for me, cum for me.”

your carnal chats are all he can hear. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, ahh, ahhn!” ropes of his milky white cum shoot out of his tip, painting his chiseled chest. you stroke every last drop out of him, smiling all the while as suguru gasps and convulses from the overstimulation.

“no more, no more… ‘s too much, please, miss..” and more incoherent babbles along those lines tumble from his mouth. you lean down and collect some of his seed onto your tongue, then harshly gripping his chin, your force your tongue into his mouth. he hums contently at tasting himself, eyes rolling back into his skull. when you two part, a thin trail of spit connects your mouths.

you both come back down to earth, the lustful glaze that was once harbored in your eyes slowly retreating. you pull out and suguru feels empty.

“that..that was amazing.” your peggable boyfriend sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “gotta do this again, I’m being so serious.”

you chuckle, removing your strap on and mounting him. he hisses, still sensitive from his recent orgasm. “oh we will, trust me. but there’s another matter that needs to be taken care of..” you slide your sopping pussy along his hardening dick.

“I haven’t cum yet.” your smile is as sadistic as it’s ever been, and suguru thinks he’s falling in love again.

“let’s take care of that then.”

[unknought]

In 2007 the US Department of Housing and Urban Development started reporting homelessness rates:

As you can see in this chart (from Statista) there was a fairly steady decrease in the number of homeless people from then until 2016. It flattened out for a couple years in 2017 and 2018, and then rose in 2019 and 2020. No data was collected in 2021 (due to COVID) and the increase from 2020 to 2022 was negligible, so one might hope based on the data from this chart that the upward trend was flipping around, and that by now by now it might be on its way back down, but this does not appear to be the case.

For 2023 the Department of Housing and Urban Development reported a homelessness count of 653,104. This is a dramatic increase which blows previous annual changes out of the water. It's a 12.1% increase relative to 2022, an 18.7% increase relative to the low in 2016, and the highest absolute number of homeless people since data started being collected in 2007.

So this is one way, at least, in which standard economic metrics being up has not translated to people doing well.

An objection one can make here is that even this new high is only about 0.2% of the national population, and while things may have gotten worse for the people in the very worst of economic straits, this doesn't say much about what things are like for the rest of us.

I agree with this up to a point. (Probably not the implied argument about what we should care about but let's not get into that for now.) It's probably true that homelessness rates don't shed a lot of light on how the median American is doing. But I think they are relevant to the well-being of a lot more than 0.2% of the population.

Even though only a small proportion of Americans are homeless at any given time, there a lot more for whom the threat of homelessness looms very large in their financial considerations, not irrationally. More people who are homeless probably means more people who can just barely make rent as long as they skip a few meals, more people who stay with an abuser because they wouldn't have anywhere else to stay, more people who can't quit their job to find a better one because they couldn't afford to miss a month's rent, more people who can't move out of a mold-infested apartment, more people who are just struggling with anxiety about whether they're going to be able to make rent every month. It also almost certainly means more people couch-surfing and more people who were homeless for part of the year that happened not to include late January, neither of which would be counted in the official statistics.

How much of an impact does this end up meaning, on how many people? I'm pretty unsure, but here's a suggestive statistic from the Federal Reserve:

> Challenges paying rent increased in 2023. The median monthly rent payment was $1,100 in 2023, up 10 percent from 2022. In addition, 19 percent of renters reported being behind on their rent at some point in the past year, up 2 percentage points from 2022.

It seems at least very plausible to me that claims about how great the US economy is doing merit a substantial asterisk.

[writersdrug]

Nectar and Bane - Pt. 1

Pairings: Hunter!König x Witch!Reader

Pt. 2

Summary: König is hired to hunt down a pesky witch by a warlock, who paints you as the most evil thing in the past three centuries. With the promise of finding true love (or, the closest thing the warlock can offer: a brainwashed woman who is forced to dote on the hunter), König sets out on his journey. However, you aren't what he was expecting at all, and he develops a newfound obsession with making you become his.

Warnings: dubcon, mentions of rape, manipulation, kidnapping, sex pollen (kinda? If you squint? not really, but better safe than sorry), corruption kink, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of consuming human organs, unrequited pining, angst at the end, death (not for main characters), cowgirl, missionary, mating press, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, power imbalance, handjob, obsessive thoughts and behaviour (please let me know if I missed any!)

Notes: thought I'd try my hand a fantasy au version of cod, or at least of König. This is really long (over 15000 words) so I split it into two parts. The next part is pretty much done, I'm just exhausted and wanted to at least crank out half. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt 2!

ps if anyone has any suggestions or tips on how to make collages or banners for fics, pleeeaseeee lmk

translations at the end

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Watch your every step. From the moment you step foot into those woods, you can’t trust anything you see.

That’s what the sorcerer had drilled into his head before he had begun his journey. He called you dangerous, cunning… “A sneaky, meddling bitch…” he had grumbled over the table in that crowded tavern.

Two small pouches, one of silver, one of gold, sat in between the two patrons on the table. Stains of ale and coffee rings littered the unvarnished wood. The wax of the thick candle had trickled down and formed small, hardened pools at the base – its flame flickered weakly, casting unflattering shadows against the man’s weathered features, and making the portentous hood covering König’s face only that much more ominous.

He'd listened warily as the sorcerer described the witch – you. Tens of centuries old, too much knowledge and too little wisdom to use it sensibly. You take whatever you want by whatever means possible, and your favored method was using your physical assets and the promise of sexual devotion to coerce those within your web to do your bidding. “Sometimes it’s for her personal gain – sometimes, she does it for fun.” The warlock added bitterly. “Akin to a serpent, she winds you into her embrace, and then crushes your bones before she swallows you whole, saving your heart for last.” You’d done it to him, ensnaring him into your alluring trap, before stealing his spellbooks, his potions, his most prized collections… and vanishing into thin air.

An enchantress, König had concluded.

The warlock’s request? “Kill her. And be quick with it. The sooner this earth is rid of that swine, the sooner we can all rest. And, better yet – bring me her eyes! Potent things, witches’ eyes can be – of course, that is if they’re still working. If the bitch has gone blind, don’t waste dulling your dagger. A handful of her hair would do just fine.”

König had killed much worse for much less, and this sounded like it would be on the simpler side of things. A few days’ worth of hunting and a quick, efficient kill – hopefully, one of his easier jobs, although with the way the sorcerer described you, that might not be. He’d dealt with magicians before; up until now, they had been rather boring to hunt – tedious, but nonetheless, boring. Most of the time, they tried to end him with some elaborate incantation in the few seconds remaining of their life after he’d ambushed them. His silver blade would be slicing across their throats before they could utter five syllables. They were always so intent on murdering their victims slowly and in a flashy manner. With König’s preference for a more immediate result, he was usually the one collecting the fingernails, teeth, and tongues.

(Over time, he’d had noticed that it was always sorcerers ordering the assassination of other sorcerers. He wondered why they had so much of an issue amongst themselves, but he didn’t question it. Whatever kept him fed and paid for his room, he would do it.)

The picture the warlock was painting of you, however, made you seem much craftier and more calculated. You couldn’t resist the glamorous ways of murder via magic – it was written in your nature as a witch. But you played the game with your charisma and wit, too; something magic users didn’t typically rely on (half of the time, because they weren’t charismatic, nor witty). You waited until your assailant would fall to your wicked charm, before dissecting him like nothing more than a toad for your cauldron. If not an easy kill, you at least sounded like you would be an exciting one – but König knew he could get something more from this client for killing you.

“What more can you offer me?” he asked.

The warlock chuckled. “The gold is insufficient, is it?” he leaned forward and hunched his shoulders, speaking in a hushed tone. “Tell me, what do you desire? Recognition and respect? Revenge against someone who’s crossed you? To bring back a loved one from the dead? Or, perhaps, to find a love of your own?”

König’s shoulders tensed, and the rest of the warlock’s utterances fell on deaf ears. Could he possibly give him a chance to find himself someone to love? Someone that he and only he can worship? It was true that he would be happier to live alone, in whatever way that would allow him to be independent of society… but the thought of being able to live alone with someone, someone who was devoted to him, someone who could decorate his hut with signs of life and warmth, someone with a kind smile and a sweet voice, someone who he could spend hours upon hours with, memorizing each curve of their body, the taste of their nectar on his tongue…

He called it love. Others would call him insane. He’d heard it all before – how no one would ever love him, given his profession, his awkwardness in carrying a conversation about anything normal other than how sharp his knives are, and how he uses them… that, and the fact that he never shows his face (“He must be hideous under there…” they would speculate). Nonetheless, he still craved the devotion of an obedient, warm body waiting for him in his cabin at the end of the day – once he did get a cabin. Why should he be denied what everyone else wants?

He knew he was a hypocrite; he couldn’t expect someone else to be so willing to leave everything and run away with him. Not with his insane ideations and obsessions – hell, not with who he was as a person. But if he killed enough healthy rabbits to keep her fed, and if he fucked her hard enough that her eyes rolled back into her head and she couldn’t muster enough strength to escape the mattress… would she ever care about what kind of man he was?

The warlock smiled slowly. “Of course… that’s what all of you sick bastards want.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms. “If it will seal our contract, I will give you whichever woman you choose. I’ll make her yours, and only yours, with unconditional love – even for your damned soul.”

A fair deal, König had thought. Which is exactly what had him currently trudging through the dense woods, searching for any traces of a witch – a sack with two loaves of bread and some apples hung over his shoulder, along with his well-worn tashka stuffed with the coin he had earned over time. His sword was strapped to his hip in its sheath, his dagger (a short sword, when it was compared to the average person) stuffed into the lead-lined, deerskin sheath on the side of his boot; and a pelt, heavy and thick, hung around his shoulders. All he had to his name.

König had done a day of research on you – testimonies and sightings of you ghosting the perimeter of the woods at an early age, hoping to lure some poor soul away as your very first victim. “I imagine she was a succubus in her previous life,” the warlock had spoken, “maybe too much of a whore for even the devil to handle.”

He had caught you one night by luring you to his cabin with the scent of a savory meal. Guessing by your inexperience, and the way you avoided using words as you snarled and thrashed in the warlock’s grip, he assumed you had not yet reached one hundred years old. You were still young and fresh-faced, appearing no more than twenty to human eyes. “After a few decent meals, and reintroducing her to the work of her past life – she’d settled in as the perfect student. It almost felt like having a pet.” He added with a smug smile.

König questioned how happy you were with being reintroduced to the work of your past, but he didn’t comment on it.

After living with the warlock as his student and whore for a few centuries, you turned into a strong, young witch. You didn’t care to go into town, preferring to stay at the cabin and watch over the brews whenever he had to make deliveries or run to the shops. The warlock had no complaints about your desire to stay holed up in his home – fewer people to ogle at you, fewer glimpses into a more civilized life that might tempt you to run away. He’d much rather you be a brooding, antisocial bitch, than watch one of his clients stare at you with a yellowed, lustful grin, like you were some harlot in the window of a brothel.

On one particular day, without any indication of what you were planning, he had returned home from his rounds to an empty cabin – not just empty of you, but of his potion stock, his rarest ingredients, and his most prized spellbooks. He’d run into the woods in fury, screeching your name and hurling threats into the trees around him – but you were gone. Not a trace of you could be found within a five mile radius of his home.

It was like you had never been there, save the absence of his personal belongings.

In König’s opinion, you didn’t strike him as an extremely dangerous individual. Sure, the warlock had harped on and on about how cunning and deceiving you were – but all you had done was lie to him. And from the way he had described the conditions you were under, König didn’t exactly blame you for running away. Maybe this job was a waste of his time…

Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, despite the nip of the mid-autumn air, and the fact that he was embarking on what might be one of the most treacherous endeavors of his career. He was getting a decent payout for it – that is, if he lived to finish the job. Additionally, the scenery was a comfort to his journey; wiry birch trees stood high and thickly clustered, their brown and black spots like ever-watchful eyes, staring at the gargantuan hunter as he moved. Their golden leaves mimicked the light of the sun, the real thing blocked out by the overcast skies. A whisper of wind flew by his ears, carrying down and blowing the leaves further along his path with a gentle sigh. As if nature herself was telling the world to be quiet, be still, and prepare for winter.

It was times like this where König became unsure of himself. What if he hated having someone else to care for? What if, deep down, he preferred the silence and the solitude? But then, the loneliness would strike him. The longing to be understood (if that was humanely possible), and the desire to have something warm, alive, and sentient to acknowledge him. It consumed him on those sleepless nights, perfectly warm by the hearth of whatever inn he resided at, yet so hollow without having someone to wrap his arms around.

A swaying movement in the branches above pulled him from his thoughts. Hanging down by a twine thread, tied to one of the spindling birch branches, was a tiny, burlap pouch. It reached a few feet above König’s head, and was drenched in a dark, thick liquid that dripped rhythmically onto the forest floor. Looking to where the drops landed, he noticed the matter on the ground was decaying – a steaming pile of rot was all that was left of the leaves that were once there.

He frowned. The trap was clever – for a witch in their first century. König had expected something a bit more dangerous for someone your age. Maybe the last hunter had been too gullible, and you stereotyped them to all be oafs. Or, maybe you were too old and couldn’t craft traps with the same skill and precision as your younger self.

He drew his dagger from his boot and quickly sliced the twine thread. The pouch dropped to the floor with a squelch, landing in the very puddle of death it had created. The liquid beneath it bubbled and hissed, and the bag soon dissolved to reveal its contents: bits of bone – a kind of reptilian foot, from the looks of it – dried pomegranate seeds, and a fuzzy layer of mold, all appearing to be drenched in some kind of blood.

He carefully stepped around the stinking mess, his eyes turning back onto the path to continue his hunt. He both hoped for and against finding more evidence of your existence. He wanted to get back to town as soon as he could, so he could hole himself up in an inn until his money began to run out – all the same, his mind craved a puzzle and a chase. Though, with how old you were, he doubted there would be much of a chase.

More leaking, swaying hex bags hung from branches as he trudged on, pointing him in the right direction. He didn’t bother to quiet the sound of the leaves beneath his footsteps – the rustling of the wind through the foliage was doing the job well enough. He held onto his dagger tightly, his other hand on his longsword, as he carefully toed through the dense forest. He had to be close – the smell of fennel and turmeric settled around his presence, along with the babbling of a nearby stream.

The sound of a distant tune danced through the trees. The voice was soft, yet clear, and whoever it belonged too was much too confident that they were alone in these woods. König wondered if it was actually you, and not some poor soul who had been foraging for the autumn mushrooms and berries – but he was nearly a day’s trek into the forest. No one would dare come out this far, unless they wanted to be alone. And, they were potentially hiding from something; their own past, perhaps.

He cautiously followed the sound of the tune, still disguising the sound of his own steps within the rustling leaves and wind. His heart thrummed with both uncertainty and excitement; he always did get too thrilled at the idea of a struggle and blood covering his hands. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, focusing his attention on the voice that carried through the trees, pulling him closer and closer… He gripped his dagger tightly as he crept, reminding himself of the warlock’s warning: cunning, sneaky – be on your best wits.

The voice brought him to the edge of a clearing. The birch trees parted and encircled a few meters of earth, and a few bushes huddled along the far edge, dotted with purplish berries and thorned branches. A wicker basket, woven clumsily and rather lopsided, sat on the ground and caught each berry and branch that was tossed into it. A figure knelt in front of the bushes, carefully plucking the berries with thin, delicate fingers, stained purple from the juice of the berries, and nails that might need a trim soon, unless they were intended to be claws.

The cloaked figure confused König. The voice was too melodic, too clear and fresh for an old witch. He had assumed you weren’t much younger than the warlock, but still old. He remained a few yards away from you, shrouded by the trees and dense foliage outside of the clearing.

It was when you turned your head, dropping your handful of berries into the basket, revealing your face, that he realized how wrong he had been in his assumption.

Your skin was soft, he could tell even with the distance between the two of you. Your lips delicately moved as you sang your tune, your eyes sparkled in contrast to the dull autumn colors that surrounded you. Small wisps of your hair danced around your cheeks as the wind caressed it. Your entire body looked soft, warm, and pliable… exactly what he needed. Craved.

It wasn’t hard for him to imagine it: leaves tangling into your hair as he pressed his fingers around your neck, pushing you to the cold ground and watching as you gasped for air. He’d use his knife, but not to kill you. He’d drag it over your hardened nipples, watching them perk up even more at the prickling sensation, before he’d carve his name into your stomach. Smear your pretty blood all over your pretty face, watch as your eyes widen with horror, as you question how someone can be so deranged and cruel, how he can take so much pleasure in something so vile and horrible-

Or maybe, he could convince you that he just wants a fuck. You looked like you could use one – when was the last time you’d had someone’s lips on your breasts, or their cock in your cunt? It had certainly been too long for him… he couldn’t imagine how long you had gone without being thoroughly ravaged, living in these woods all alone. He could take care of that. He could be gentle, for a little while; holding your wrists above your head as he pushed you against a tree, whispering praise and encouragements into your ear, “… so gut, so Schön, genau so…” taking you from behind as your nipples perked up from the rough texture of the bark, listening to you whine and moan in that sweet voice of yours as he lets out months’ worth of pent up frustration by thrusting his cock into your warm pussy, over and over and over until you scream and tighten around his length, milking the cum right out of him as he fucks you deep, maybe sinking his teeth into the junction of your neck-

He growled quietly, palming his rapidly-growing erection as he tried to clear his head. Stay focused. Kill the witch, and then you’ll get what you want.

Remember the warlock’s promise.

Even if he didn’t need you to satisfy his needs, he could still make this interesting. Not like you could outrun him, anyway.

He stepped into the clearing, and as if by some ironic joke, the wind died down immediately. The crunch of his heavy boots was enough to make his presence known to any living thing within a mile radius.

Your singing stopped. You whipped your head in his direction, and immediately a look of fear fell upon your face. For a moment, the two of you were frozen in a staring contest. You reminded him of a doe, staring at the crossbow of the hunter you had noticed, wondering if this being was actually dangerous, or nothing you needed to worry about. He wondered what he must remind you of, and he wished to hear the panicking thoughts flitting through your mind.

Finally, you broke the trance – you gasped, stumbling backwards and awkwardly standing as you ripped a pathetic, little knife from your boot. You faced him and pointed the knife at him – you held it improperly, and if he truly wanted to make this messy, he could easily make you stab yourself in a struggle. He wondered what it would feel like when your nails dug into his rough skin, dragging marks down his forearms (or his back, if he played his cards right).

You pulled the thick cloak tighter around your body – you were tiny. Well, everything was tiny compared to König. But you were unexpectedly small. With the way the sorcerer had described you, he had expected you to reach his shoulders at least. But there you were, craning your neck to look up at him with fearful, owlish eyes.

“State your business!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly.

König chuckled in response. You really were too pathetic for your own good, weren’t you? He took you in – your lips were pulled into a frown, parted slightly to reveal your perfect teeth, the way the fabric of your cloak quivered where it bunched in your fist… perfectly ordinary things that ordinary people do. But, besides the fact that you were a witch, something about you made it all so captivating.

“Hey!” you shouted, bringing his eyes back to your gaze. Your fear had given way to a judgmental ire. “Gods, have you ever seen a woman before?!”

König scoffed. “Woman? Yes, of course. I’ve seen witches, too. None as young as you, however.”

Your eyes widened in panic once again. You stretched your knife out towards him as he stalked over to where you stood. “S-stay back! I’ll kill you!”

Your meek threat didn’t slow him down. He continued his advance until he had corralled you against a tree, your one hand bracing against the trunk behind you, and the other holding the knife under his ribcage. The only thing between his flesh and your blade was his linen tunic, which wouldn’t do much to protect him should you decide to stab him – but were you capable of that? Your eyes were so filled with fear as they stared at him, your chin to the sky to take all of him in. Your fingers trembled around the handle of your knife as if the prospect of having to nick him made you uneasy.

“Not with magic?” he asked, his eyes flitting to the bush next to you. He plucked one of the berries between his thick, gloved fingers, rolling the onyx sphere between his thumb and middle finger before squashing it.

You pouted (a sight König could never grow tired of). “I’m not a wi-“

He snatched your forearm, and you yelped, dropping the knife to the forest floor. His fingers easily wrapped around you; he wondered how easy it would be to break it.

“Don’t lie, now.” He ordered, his eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance. “You’re not good at it.”

He released your arms with a shove. You scrambled back with a fearful expression, swiping the blade from the ground. He watched with interest as you stood several yards away from him, pointing your weapon towards him once again.

“Fine.” You said, holding yourself a bit taller. “You’re right. What’s the crime in that?”

For a moment, König was lost. Why weren’t you trying to weaponize your magic? It was almost as if you had forgotten you weren’t a human. For someone who was supposed to be a cunning bitch, as the warlock had put it, you weren’t very smart.

“I’m not here for justice.” He replied, wiping his glove on his shirt. “Just doing my job.”

“Hunter?” you asked.

He extended his arms – gods, he could have crushed a pillar between those arms – as if presenting himself to you. “Was it not obvious?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You huffed. “Well, you’re not a very good one. Most hunters don’t make conversation with their prey.”

Prey. He liked that you understood your position, that he was the one in charge here. Maybe you were a clever girl…

“I like to listen to the begging.”

“Begging?”

“For your life.” König folded his arms over his chest, inspecting you closely. The only thing you had to protect yourself was your cloak, and that hardly provided a shield against the wind. Even though you were obviously wary of him, it wasn’t wary enough. You had spoken too many words with the hunter, and had it been anyone else, you might have been dead long before now.

You seemed malleable – book-smart and spitfire, yet all too gullible. Easily manipulated. Just what he needed to brainwash you into loving him. Or, at least, being his pet. You’d never truly love him, he had come to learn that from experience. But maybe, if he could somehow convince you that you needed a big, scary man, who could protect you and fuck you nicely, it would be enough to make you stay. After all, you were too naïve to be alone out here, weren’t you?

Could the warlock perhaps make you his prize? It’d kill two birds with one stone, he could convince you to return whatever knickknacks you had stolen, and your presence would never bother anyone ever again – besides him, but of course, it would never be a bother to bed you every night.

Your expression turned sour. “I don’t beg.”

The tone of your voice sent a shiver down his cock. He’d have to pound that little attitude right out of you.

“Who hired you?” You asked indignantly. The knife in your hand had slowly lowered, now pointing at his feet. Your initial fear seemed to have worn off. Were you brave, or just that stupid?

“It doesn’t matter.” König replied.

“It does to me.”

“You don’t know? How many people have you wronged?”

You scoffed. “I haven’t wronged anyone. People just don’t like it when you call them out on their atrocities.”

König hummed. You had a point. “Your teacher – the warlock.”

For a moment, you scrunched your face in disgust. Teacher. Only a fool as mad as the warlock himself could consider he was any such figure in your life, other than a torturous one. Then, you sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly, the knife now aimed straight at the forest floor. “That old toad can’t even kill me himself…” you muttered. “What payment did he offer you?”

“He promised me anything I desired of your possessions.” König replied, taking note of the change in your presence. He purposely left out the warlock’s promise to find him a “companion.”

“And what would you do with cursed fig seeds, or stag’s blood?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest (which, König noted, framed your breasts perfectly). “I have no gold – not enough to be a reward for the trouble of killing me.”

“He gave me three hundred gold coin, too.”

Your lips turned down into a scowl. “That’s all?! That absolute hypocrite!” You lodged your knife into the tree behind you and placed your hands on your hips. “I took everything from him, save that disgusting old shed he called home, and that’s all he’ll pay to kill me?!”

Your outburst pulled König from his obsessive staring. “You’re… insulted?”

You turned back to him and huffed. “Well, obviously.” You retorted. “I stole all he had to his name, and he treats me like a fly buzzing in his ear. I deserve a bit more recognition than three hundred gold coin.”

“You admit to it, then.” König said, stepping closer. You appeared to be too angry to notice how near the hunter was to you. “You are a thief.”

You laughed – a sound that König did not expect to be so sweet. “I’ve done much worse than thieving, mind you.” You shook your head. “And he’s done even worse to me.” You sighed, pulling the dagger from the tree trunk and sheathing it back into your boot.

Once again, he was reminded of how small you were. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Sure, you had the advantage of magic while he did not, but you weren’t even acting defensively anymore. You treated him like a traveler who had stumbled across your path, starting up conversation and sharing your story.

“What has he done?” he asked, his interest in you growing by the second. An outcast, despised, hated by others. He felt that the two of you were kindred spirits, and he would not risk losing a connection so rare – one he had never felt.

“You mean he didn’t even tell you?” you said, sounding more hurt than anything else.

“He did.” König sheathed his own dagger as a peace offering. “But I’m coming to think he was not entirely truthful.”

You sighed, looking down at your basket, then back at König. “I suppose I could tell you, since he brought you all this way to kill me. Walk with me – but keep your dagger away. And if you try anything, I’ll slit your throat. Understood?”

He suppressed the urge to laugh. Could you even reach his throat? “The warlock said you would lure me away to your hut, and carve out my heart.”

You huffed disappointedly, walking back to the bush near König. Completely calm, like he had only ever come up to you with the intention of finding a friend. “And yet, he’s still alive, after all the chances I had to kill him. We can stay outside of my hut, if it eases your mind. I’ll let you make your own tea, too. But if you aren’t set on killing me right this minute, I really should return to start drying these out.” You held up your basket. “Before too much time passes, and I can no longer use them.”

König had never given his prey more than a few moments to try and beg their way out of his crushing hands. He couldn’t believe he had even given so much lenience to your baseless trust in him – what he should have done was take the opportunity to grab your face and snap your neck. But he was starting to doubt the warlock’s testimony; you were a thief, yes, but had you really committed any crime? Or were you simply just taking the revenge you deserved from your captor – or, as the warlock called himself, your master?

König sighed. He gestured his hand out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You frowned. “First, give me your word.” You demanded.

“I will not harm you.” He said, with a hand over his heart. He didn’t care about forcing you to make the same promise – you were harmless enough. He did, however, make sure to avoid saying that he wouldn’t touch you. Although he was developing a few ounces more of respect for you, who knows? Maybe you would find a reason to drag him into your hut and satisfy both of your needs – and, if he was lucky enough to get that far, maybe you’d offer for him to spend the night in a warm bed, and he could be saved from sleeping on the cold earth for one night.

His word seemed promising enough to you. Threading your arm through the handle of the basket, you began marching through the woods, watching the ground carefully as you stepped over roots and twigs.

König followed by your side, watching you from the corner of his eye. You really were helpless – all it would take is a strong push from him, and you’d be tumbling down, maybe hitting your head on a stone, or rolling down the mountainside until your neck snapped. Even if the fall didn’t kill you, he could easily land one hit to your chest and pierce your lungs with your own ribs. But here you were, worrying more about the uneven forest floor than the lumbering creature by your side.

“What did he tell you?” you asked, pulling him from his fantasies. “About the beginning, when he took me.”

König laughed in pity. “He made it sound like he caught you, not that he took you.”

You sighed. “He didn’t catch me… well, I suppose he did. More like how animals are caught.” You adjusted your grip on the basket, still watching the ground beneath you. “I was the botanist’s assistant before he came along. Stared at me like I was naked. He would come more often than he needed to -  asked me where I was from, who my father was – things I didn’t understand why he needed to know. I still don’t.”

König didn’t understand himself. He continued to listen, the sounds of his footsteps drowning out your quiet ones. He began to wonder just how much of the warlock’s testimony was true.

“He came to the shop one night.” You continued to recount the story. “I was lighting the lanterns in the greenhouse. It was storming, and I didn’t hear him. He bludgeoned me and dragged me into the streets like I was some sort of animal.” You paused, turning your own words over in your head. “I suppose I was, to him.

He brought me back to his cabin – that’s when he started the curse. All I remember when waking up is feeling sick. I tried to stand, but it- everything felt heavy, like I was stuck in mud. I managed to crawl outside, and he was there. Saying my father wouldn’t recognize me, that he had killed the old lady at the botanist, that everyone would think that I had killed her… that I would be burned if I returned to the village. That I would forever be an outcast as long as I lived – as a witch. As what he made me.”

You paused again, for longer this time. König looked down at you, observing how your face twisted in… disgust? Anger? Your eyes were somewhere else, possibly somewhere where you could light the world on fire, drain the life from everyone who had ever done you wrong. König had felt that same hatred before, and he had learned to let it pass. You were still stuck there, wishing you could drive a blade into the warlock’s neck – and more.

“You stayed, then?” König asked, returning his gaze to the trees before him. “Why?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I could go anywhere, not during the change. For the first fortnight, I couldn’t do anything but crawl on the ground and wail. And he let me – I’d get to the edge of the woods, and he’d be there to drag me back. Drug me into the hut at night and held me, fucked me, saying he was protecting me and similar bullshit. Of course, he was right; at that moment, I was as good as dead if I had ventured out on my own. And once I’d gotten my strength back, I was still a new witch. I’d never be accepted into the village – witches never are, despite the warlocks being the vile ones – and I had no idea how to live as one. So I relied on him for a while, until I knew enough to make it out on my own.”

König hummed in thought. Despite the initial desire to snatch you himself and have his way with you, his fists clenched at the thought of you being dragged around by the warlock. This life wasn’t one you had chosen, and yet the very person who had forced it upon you was killing you for it. It made something within him boil, something deep and buried, that he had thought had been tucked away for good.

You didn’t deserve any of this. He was fighting with himself in that moment, but the desire to show you what you should have been given was consuming him. He wanted to tell you that he knew what it was to be an outcast, he knew what it was like to feel lonely and crave being alone at the same time. To wish that you had the power to hurt anyone you deemed deserving of it, yet to have that someone who would never hurt you.

He would do it. He would be that person for you, he would be the one to kill for you. He knew he was getting ahead of himself – after all, he was hired to kill, you, not fall for you. And he knew it was just another one of his delusional fantasies… but he couldn’t help himself. You were like him, which was something that he had not yet been able to find. Something primal in him told him to sink his teeth in, to hold onto you until you stopped your struggling and realized that this would be good, for the both of you.

He was insane. But did it matter what he was, as long as he could give you what you needed?

“So, yes-“ you continued, bringing König out from the depths of his thoughts. “- I stole from him. Took the books he used to teach me, maybe a few ingredients for potions, a few seeds to start my own garden… but compared to what he took from me, I might as well have taken a loaf of bread.”

You stopped suddenly, and König came to a halt beside you. You nodded your head to the scene before you. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

König looked ahead: the trees parted into another clearing, larger this time. A rickety hut leaned against a wall of rock, made of thin, birch logs and mud slathered on top to keep out the wind. In the center of the clearing was a large stone, positioned near a pile of ash and rocks. A log lay near it, possibly another place for someone to sit. A small garden sat closer to the creek before your hut – it didn’t look to be doing very well, but that was expected as winter approached.

By the creek, there was a large, twisted oak. Its roots hung directly off of the bank and down into the water. Its leaves had fallen to the earth and mingled with the rest of the foliage by now – the entire thing had crimson paths winding around it, hauntingly similar to blood-filled veins. Several pieces of clothing and fabric hung from the branches and swayed in the autumn wind.

As you marched ahead, placing your basket down by the makeshift firepit and disappearing into the hut, König took a few, cautious steps forward. He was both charmed by the simplicity of it, and despondent that you were forced into this lonesome sort of life. He wanted to drag you from this measly hovel and show you something better.

But how? He was no better off than you were. All his earnings were spent on a room at the nearest tavern and a decent amount of ale to help him fall asleep. He never cared about having a home, as long as he had a place to keep out the cold. He didn’t think it would be good enough to drag you back to the village and convince you to spend the night with him in a thin-walled, noisy inn… but, even if he didn’t end up killing you today (something that seemed more and more likely with each passing second), he refused to leave you in this hell. If it was a cozy cabin, built so far away from civilization for the sole purpose of privacy and comfort, he could understand. Maybe even plead his case to you so you would let him stay. But this – this was a last resort. A broken down spot in the woods that you made for your banishment, for hiding. This wouldn’t do.

Call him insane. Call him crazy, hopeless, sick in the head… maybe his desires were founded on the thought that he would give you what he had never received.

You emerged from your hut, the thin, wooden door clanging shut behind you. You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why was he still standing at the edge? You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and made your way over to him, your hair blowing across your face.

He watched as you stopped in front of him, your brow creased with question. Your head tilted back to look up at him, yet any traces of fear that you had shown earlier were gone. You looked at him like you’d known him for the past hundred years. It made his heart ache within his chest.

How could anyone have painted such a wretched picture of the woman who stood before him?

“Is everything alright?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said before, if you’d rather we stay outside-“

König interrupted you, reaching down and grabbing the sides of your arms firmly. You sucked in a breath warily, but you were still not afraid of him.

“I- you-“ Scheisse, what is he trying to say? He wanted to take you away, he wanted to show you how similar the both of you were to each other, he wanted to show you what (he thought) love was – slow, gentle, possessive, and strong. He wanted to keep you in his pocket, both to keep you safe from the world, and to make sure you couldn’t be taken from him. He wanted you, you, you –

This is insanity. He knew it. But that didn’t stop the fire in his chest, and the questionable throbbing in his trousers.

You knew. Your eyes said everything as they softened, as your lips pressed together into a knowing, sad smile. Were you going to turn him down? Would you say that you preferred it this way, that you liked being alone and living like a prisoner on the run? You took his face in his hands, and he had a foreboding sense in his gut that you might tell him to leave.

Quickly but gently, he cupped one hand at the back of your neck and pulled himself down to you, pressing his lips to yours before you could speak. It was only right, he thought, as he held the kiss – you didn’t understand that he could help you, he could build the life you deserved and keep you safe from any other hunters and warlocks. He placed his other hand on your lower back and pulled you in, moving his lips against your own and praying you wouldn’t deny him.

Like an angel answering his prayers, you tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes and kissing him back. He tugged his teeth at your bottom lip, and you so graciously allowed his tongue to slip past your teeth, letting him taste you. He whined, flooded with relief that you didn’t try to shove him away and call him deranged.

His cock was quickly growing hard, but he ignored it. Right now, he needed to figure out exactly what he needed to say to make you-

A raven’s call tore through the air, piercing his thoughts. It was much too close than any bird would naturally be.

He tried to turn his head in its direction, but you dug your fingers into his hair, making him stutter and freeze on the spot. He grabbed your hips, about to pry you away-

You pressed your lips firmly to his, and he heard you faintly muttering incoherent words against him. The world around him was suddenly showered with colors: purples like the berries that had stained your fingers, oranges like the leaves that were scattered across the ground, silvers like the thick clouds that blanketed across the sky… The black spots on the birch trees suddenly blinked and flitted across his vision; thousands of them stared at him, and he heard your sweet laughter echoing in the distance as the world spun, spun, spun…

He felt the cold earth press to his cheek, and the last thing he remembered was a sickening ache in his stomach.

He should have heeded the sorcerer’s warning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"… so gut, so Schön, genau so…”

... so good, so beautiful, just like that...

[thepersonperson]

Gege is doing to his characters what they did to jfk there's so much character assassination happening djsjdsnsdjn

This ask was sent to me shortly after I complained about JJK 269 leaks. (Aka before JJK 270's release so be nice to them.) And while I still agree that chapter contained character assassinations, JJK 270 has given me a good reason for them. 

Since my other post related to this topic was trimmed down by Tumblr’s 30 image limit, I’m going to use this ask as an excuse to this burning question...

Why does everyone feel so out of character in JJK 268–270?

Notes before we start.

1) Read the light novels. They are the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but I will be citing the official translation from my own copies.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

4) Written as of JJK 270.

5) Read the light novels.

(Another extremely 'hear me out' discussion under the cut. Click pictures for captions/citations.)

Preface

This post is banking on the framework I set up in the previous related post so please read/skim over it. (If you don't? Just hear me out!)

Short Summary of the Previous Related Post:

Yuji is projecting a massive delusion onto Megumi that gives him a happy ending. JJK 268–270 is a mesh of Yuji and Megumi’s memories and dreams that serve to rationalize all that’s happened to them in a way that allows them to forgive themselves. Sukuna’s vessel memories are probably mixed in too.

Because of this I’m assuming the following:

>The battle recollection in JJK 269 is Yuji constructing explanations from his, Megumi, and Sukuna’s memories during their battle. Neither of these 3 ever knew the plan in full. This can explain why so much of the battle recollection is wrong.

>The characters we see outside of Yuji and Megumi are constructs based on their memories of these people. They’re more like representations than the actual characters.

I don’t know if it means they’re dead or not, but that doesn’t matter. I want to explore the way the characters feel off can be explained by them being memory constructs.

In the previous post, I used "Without love it cannot be seen." from Umineko to give my best faith reading of these past 3 chapters I've hated so much. This time the tool I'll be using is:

"Flipping over the chessboard."

This refers to how one should try to see things from a different perspective.

Memory in JJK

A neat touch that has always been around in JJK is characters remembering others as they last saw them. When Gojo recalls his best students, Hakari has a very different hair style from when we meet him. His recollection of Yuta's is accurate though. When Panda recalls Yuta, the hairstyle differs from what Gojo recalls. And when he recalls Kiara, he mistakenly refers to her as a guy.

This all can be explained by considering when Gojo and Panda last saw these characters. Gojo last saw Yuta in Kenya with Miguel where he changed his hairstyle. Panda hasn't seen Yuta since he's left the country. Neither Gojo or Panda have seen Hakari and Kiara for a very long time.

Their memories reflect how they last knew them. Kiara is a whole girl now and Hakari is blond. But if Panda and Gojo never saw them again? Those memories would be true to them, even if it’s no longer accurate.

And sometimes the memories aren’t accurate. See this side by side recollection of Gojo meeting Megumi from both of their perspectives.

I believe Gojo’s memory of this event is the accurate one because he’s 19 when it happens, not under distress when he recalls it, and has the Six Eyes which act like a supercomputer. Megumi’s memory is iffy because he’s 6 when it happens, has a head injury that knocks him out when he recalls this, and doesn’t have perception enhancing abilities. And though Megumi can’t recall the memory in its truest form, what he does remember still tells us a lot about his feelings towards the event and his relationship with Gojo.

The emotions child Megumi felt at the time distort what Gojo was actually like back then. Instead of a benefactor, he’s a suspicious weirdo with a funny face. The heart behind Gojo crouching down to his level, being way too honest with him, trying to give him options, patting him on the head—it’s all missing.

With all this in mind, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume Megumi and Yuji’s impressions of other characters via memory would influence how they appear in these delusions too. Yuji’s impressions probably take the most precedence since I think his will is shaping the delusions the most.

Recalling Incomplete Information 

Yuji is very good at understanding people. He can intuit their feelings and sync up with them easily. (I go over this in greater detail in this post.) But that doesn’t mean he fully understands their hearts. He gets close enough to their core to bond with them, but the little details aren’t quite right. 

If all the characters (save Megumi) we’ve been seeing in JJK 268–270 are constructs based on Yuji’s perception of them, I think this can explain everything off about them.

What made me consider this possibility was JJK 270. There’s this pattern I keep seeing... Characters’ motivations being misunderstood and being resolved by scenarios that aren’t quite right. Every time I try to explain what exactly is wrong with them, assuming their inconsistencies align with Yuji’s perception of them solves the problem.

Amai Rin

Rin is introduced as a coward. He’s unable to fight and goes along with the whims of those stronger than him to avoid getting hurt. This is why he keeps his head low as his friend is being harassed by bullies during his Jr. High days. Still, he tries to help. Just not at a risk to himself.

When Yuji saves his friend and beats all the bullies up, he turns to Rin and assumes he was part of the bully group. This simply isn’t true. He was a bystander. That’s why it’s weird for him to apologize like he was the one who beat the guy up.

Yuji’s false impression of Rin, one where he’s a bully that feels guilt over his actions, explains this. Rin’s actual guilt comes from him being a bystander—someone who doesn’t take action for others when something is wrong. He dealt with that in the Culling Games by helping Yuji and risking his life to save Angel. And he really stepped out of his comfort zone to join the medical team for the Sukuna battle. He might be the reason Yuta survived. (Yuji doesn’t know about that though.)

And what’s this? Here Yuji outright admits he doesn’t fully understand what kind of person Rin is. All he knows is that he did some good things and is trying to become a better person. So now we’ve got this other Rin that’s apologizing for something he didn’t do for the redemption he’s already earned.

(And that’s the pattern! Rin’s motivation is misunderstood by Yuji so he’s doing something that seems out of character to us readers, but is perfectly in character for Yuji’s perception of him. When I apply it to everyone else. Everything makes sense.)

Takaba Fumihiko

What Yuji knows about Takaba is pre-Kenjaku development. Yuji knows the Takaba that speaks over others, rejects their criticisms, and insists he’s funny. That’s kind of what he’s doing to Totally Not Kenjaku. In reality, Kenjaku caused Takaba to reflect on his approach to comedy and they are nearly in perfect sync by the end of it. Kenjaku satisfied Takaba.

Yuji didn’t see that battle and he hasn’t spoken to Takaba since. So he’s constructed a happy ending where Takaba has found his partner and is working towards the show of his dreams that already happened.

I also want to note that Takaba is 100% ok with sex jokes. Kenjaku makes one and he doesn’t object to it. This is just another little detail that makes everything so slightly off.

Higuruma Hiromi

Yuji knows that Higurama wants to go back to his roots. He knows that he feels guilt over killing people.

What he doesn’t know is that Higurama’s roots are him being a defense lawyer that cherishes the flaws of humanity. He doesn't want to ever look away from the impurities that even Yuji has. That’s why I think Yuji resolves his problems with him becoming a sorcerer who saves lives.

Yuji seems to think that Higuruma is like him. He’ll make up for the lives he’s taken via sorcery by saving more. That’s something he could assume from their convo, but that’s not actually what Higuruma wants. He wants to fundamentally change Japan’s legal system for the better in his own way.

Kurusu Hana

She’s the most in character of the bunch. In fact, there’s nothing out of character about her interaction with Megumi. What she represents is Yuji misunderstanding Megumi’s desires.

Yuji understands that Megumi’s type is someone with an unwavering humanity (literally the definition of Yuji’s name) via access to his memories. But for some reason (he’s kind of dumb academically), he thinks this means Hana is perfect for him. 

I think this is because Hana meets Yuji’s definition of a good person. She’s just like Megumi. She saves others for a selfish purpose. And that means…Hana does not meet Megumi’s definition of a good person. Not once has he considered her saving others as selfless. (...But Yuji has.)

And that’s just facts. Hana is kind of unhinged. She’s extremely possessive of Megumi and saves others solely to win him over. Yuji saves others because it’s the right thing to do.

Megumi’s preferences are Yuji, not Hana. Which has led to the most awkward confession and rejection scene. That might have clued Yuji in to construct an alternative. In the memory Yuji is probably recalling, Todo does clock Megumi as someone into dudes.  …The very next scene is Yuji hitting on a dude in front of his gf in a way that causes him to blush. (Yuji has not once complimented someone’s body up to this point if I recall correctly. And he’s been around some beefy dudes.)

(Yeah Nobara me too. Second most leftfield possible bisexual confirmation I’ve read in a manga. The first will always be from Baki the Grappler.)

Is this Yuji letting Megumi know it’s ok to come onto him? Is he not initiating because Hana’s forwardness freaked Megumi out? It’s possible. 

What this suggests is that Yuji is kind of fine tuning this whole delusion to make Megumi as content as possible. It’s telling that the moment Megumi starts getting super uncomfortable the scene jumps to something else.

It happens at the beginning of the chapter too. Gojo is mentioned by Shoko in a way that causes Megumi to pause. And Bam! Change scene.

Anyways, I hope this demonstrates that Yuji working with the limited information from memories is most likely the reason for everything being so funky. It’s character assassination by accident.

Why make these happy endings when this is all for Megumi?

Two reasons as to why I think Yuji is trying to give everyone a plausible happy ending.

1) He genuinely wants them to live good lives.

2) It has to be believable for Megumi to accept them as real and forgive himself.

This line may have been about Yuji, but Megumi’s not any different. He blames himself in the exact same way Yuji blames himself.

I also think there's something to be said about Yuji crafting a dream that resembles the perfect cookie cutter Shonen ending. The guy gets with girl he has no chemistry with. All these complicated plot lines are wrapped up with a neat little bow. Everyone lives and goes on like nothing traumatic happened.

Yuji is a big fan of Shonen. Straight up his final move against Sukuna is a Hunter X Hunter reference. That's not just Gege doing a reference as a fan, Yuji himself is a fan of that manga.

I think Yuji is trying to make this fiction a reality because it's the only way he knows how to cope with his trauma.

JJK 269’s Character “Assassinations”

I promise I still hate this chapter. But I won’t deny how fun it is to pretend these are all delusions Yuji created for Megumi’s sake. I went over Kusakabe to cut him some slack in the previous post, so let’s do everyone else.

(The chapter’s formatting as one long unending nightmare makes it hard to separate this stuff out by the character. I’m just going to do groups this time.)

The 2nd Years

The most common complaint from readers outside of Kusakabe telling Yuji he should’ve died is Maki being really fudging mean to Yuta. Maki is mean, but she’s not that mean. You could assume this is her showing Yuta she cares and that her anger scales with worry but… Here’s a side by side comparison of her getting angry over Yuta risking his life in Vol 0 vs JJK 269.

Pretty big difference I think. Here is a Maki with a Yuta she thinks is about to die vs a Maki with a Yuta who is 100% ok. And the only reason she even gets mad in Vol 0 is because she had no idea Yuta did something that risky. Maki already knew Yuta was going to body hop if all else failed, so her reaction here is disproportionate, especially since he survived.

Speaking of survival, the first thing Maki, Panda, and Inumaki do when Yuta survives in Vol 0 is ask if he’s ok and thank him for saving them. This doesn’t happen in JJK 269. They're all very protective of Yuta after the events of Vol 0. We see them defend him from Gojo for being a little mean about his training. They’re all against the plan because of how much they value him. The 3 of them not checking in on Yuta immediately after the fact is wildly OOC.

The explanation I have? This version of Maki is based on Yuji and Megumi’s memories of her. (And let’s remember that Megumi claims he can’t openly respect her and the other 2nd years outside of Yuta.) When Megumi and Nobara mourn Yuji’s “death”, Maki does this to them.

Maki also intimidated Yuji pretty bad when they first met. Her, Panda, and Inumaki went along with bullying Yuji after he came back to life. It makes sense that Yuji would up Maki’s meanness. He’s not been around her long enough to know she’s not like this when it comes to people she cares about. 

I do think it is weird Maki is pre-awakening levels of mean. This could also be Yuji trying to return to the time before everything went to absolute hell. Or...because she’s Yuji’s construct, this could be him expressing his anger at Yuta for defiling Gojo’s body in a very roundabout way. From both Yuji and Megumi’s perspective, Yuta didn’t discuss this beforehand and used it as a last second plan. And that’s kind of how the conversation goes. Everyone talks about Yuta’s Yujo plan like he didn’t clear it with them first.

It’s also telling that they harp on Yuta over Miguel and Larue. Miguel said no help unless Sukuna’s domain was down. Everyone except Yuji knew that. There was never a scenario where they’d help from the start. But to Yuji who only heard they might show up? It’s a missed opportunity.

Say if you were, trying to find a reason for such a horrific defiling of a loved one’s body. Wouldn’t you try to reconstruct the crime by considering the motives and methods? That would help give you some closure, right?

I think that’s what Yuji is doing for himself and Megumi. Yuji is trying to figure out why things went the way they did through a blend of what Sukuna intuited and what makes the most sense to someone who never had full knowledge of the plan. 

And if you think about it, this is still a happy ending for them. They’re all absolved of their guilt surrounding the outcome of the battle. Even if they screwed up, they’re all still alive and able to move forward in a better world. They did the best they could, so it’s time to move on from what happened to Gojo. Thinking about that too much would break someone.

Mei Mei and Ui Ui

Mei Mei is out of character in a way that’s unique compared to everyone else. She’s still herself, but with less…yikes. It’s odd since Yuji has seen how awful Mei Mei can be and is deeply uncomfortable with how she treats Ui Ui. He’s not missing information about her motives so why have we gone from this to this?

I propose this is an extension of Yuji’s denialism. (We’ve seen how avoidant he is with Gojo’s death.) Mei Mei is grooming Ui Ui and has made it clear this is all for money. Ui Ui is being abused, but he’s so attached to his abuser that separation would break him. How do you make a happy ending out of that?

Well, you can soften those edges. Spin a tale where Mei Mei is an over-doting sister who would kill for her cute little brother. She doesn’t touch him inappropriately, she just plays with him. She loves money as much as him! No abuse here! She’s not someone who would kill a child for cash.

And in a weird way this whole Simple Domain debacle mirrors Gojo killing the higher ups. If Maki is Yuji's rage towards the Yujo plan, then this could be him trying to process his mentor slaughtering a bunch of old people in mass for his sake.

It probably helps that Yuji wasn’t there to see Mei Mei tell Ui Ui to die for her. There’s no way he knows she was paid to help kill him either.

Mei Mei doesn’t care about the well-being of other people. She’s just a hardcore capitalist who loves money and will do anything for it. But this version of her can be less terrible to Ui Ui while still getting her cash and that’s sort of ok I guess? Yuji has moved on from this and so will I.

The Megumi & Nobara Problem

The 1st years going on like nothing happened after Sukuna has made readers feel betrayed. It flies in the face of everything that’s been established for them when it comes to mourning.

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 5: At the End of a Sidewalk, this is how the trio deals with grief.

Despite knowing Yuji for only 2 weeks his death screws with Megumi and Nobara pretty badly. In the manga, it looks like Nobara is more upset because she’s visibly in pain, but I think the light novels show they’re equally shaken. 

This is why the non-reaction to Gojo’s death makes no sense. Megumi has known Gojo for a decade. He’s 6 when he first meets him and 16 when he dies because Sukuna used his Cursed Technique (CT). Nobara knew Yuji for 2 weeks, and didn’t see him for another 3 months. In all that time, Gojo was her teacher. She knew him longer than Yuji. When she “dies” Gojo is on the same tier as Yuji and Megumi to her.

So why is it that in JJK 268, Nobara thinks of Gojo as a creep? Why did she toss his letter despite him being one of the people she thought of in death? 

Well… When Yuji came back from the dead via Gojo’s prank he heard Nobara say this.

Nobara is prone to saying out of pocket nonsense to people. If she thinks it, she says it. Yuji also doesn’t understand Nobara’s thought processes (Just like Amai Rin he admits it too!). Nobara tries to hide her feelings to appear tougher than she is sometimes. So I think Yuji has done to Nobara what he has done to Maki—upped the meanness and neglected the heart.

And though Nobara being a construct can explain her behavior, this still leaves us with Megumi who is definitely not one. Why is he acting like Gojo meant nothing to him?

Megumi in particular is super fragile when it comes to his feelings. This is how stressed he gets when he learns exactly why Tsumiki is in a coma.

She’s not even dead and he’s halfway to a mental breakdown. The idea that he can just look at her grave once after having a hand in her murder and move on this quickly makes no sense. Inadvertently killing his defacto guardian he’s been raised by for 10 years should be upsetting him to a similar degree. (Maki said Gojo treated him like a precious treasure!)

When Megumi is on the verge of death he thinks of Tsumiki, Yuji, and or Gojo. It’s always at least 1 of those 3. There’s no way Gojo dying and having his corpse reanimated for reasons Megumi might feel responsible for isn’t screwing him up.

Unless…Yuji is suppressing his memory on purpose. He can’t even cope with what happened to Gojo, how is Megumi supposed to? How can either of them forgive themselves for that if they acknowledge it in full?

When Sukuna tries to tell Megumi to give up, he looks miserable. Every time Sukuna has verbally kicked Yuji while he’s down, he’s done it with a big old smile and laugh. He doesn’t hold back and goes for the throat.

Sukuna is being very nice to Megumi here when he doesn’t mention Gojo at all. The only death he blames on Megumi is Tsumiki. Everyone else? Nothing. That’s weird given that Sukuna will pass the blame of his kills onto Yuji to torment him.

Is this Sukuna a construct or is he playing nice because he respects Megumi? Who knows. Whatever happened here seems to point to Gojo’s memory being suppressed for Megumi’s sake. 

And why might Megumi accept this suppression? Why does he seem to be going along with Yuji’s delusions? The Unlimited Void brain fog. Megumi brings attention to it after he wakes up. 

If Sukuna can’t think straight after Gojo brain damage, neither is Megumi. Still Yuji has to be careful. If Megumi thinks too much, the illusion will be broken. 

What does this mean for them?

Well, the character assassination isn’t real (probably) which is a good thing! Other than that? Not a clue. We’ve got a real catbox situation here. I can’t tell who is dead anymore.

Sukuna projects delusions when someone he’s connected with is dying. Yuji projects delusions someone connects with him while he’s severely injured/concussed. Both of them are kind towards the people they’re interacting with in this space between dreams and reality. They try to give people endings that leave them satisfied.

JJK 270 ends with the hunt for a curse user who can distort perceptions of reality. This curse user is initially mistaken as a cursed spirit. That sounds like Sukuna I think.

I’m pretty confident this happy ending illusion will be shattered, that's for sure.

My Final Answer

I'm betting it all on this being a delusion. This is a kind of prediction that will either age well, very badly, or interestingly. I don't know what's in store for the final chapter...but I do have some ideas I'd like to speculate with.

"Without love it cannot be seen."

This time I'm going to use this phrase very literally. I'm going to make one final gamble on the assumption that love is the answer. So let's go back to Love itself—one of those reoccurring themes in JJK.

Love is a curse in JJK. It has the power to distort reality and transform loved ones horribly. Desperation to save a loved one from death over and over has resulted in extremely traumatic things. Yuta turned his childhood crush into monster that caused havoc for years. You can blame everything that has happened in JJK on Gojo being unable to get over the loss of his loved one, Geto.

Hana could've vanquished Sukuna on the spot, but she didn't because she loves Megumi. It's something a lot of people blame her for. If she had just killed him there, the Sukuna battle wouldn't have happened. But that's not really the truth. The only reason Sukuna even got his powerful is because Megumi refused to let Yuji die.

Megumi and Yuji going back and forth trying to save each other have been acts of love driving the plot of JJK since the beginning of this manga. If Megumi actually died on Yuji? Who knows what would happen.

...

A lot of readers have been on a very funny copium because of these last 3 chapters. Some of them joke that they are just one massive Takaba-induced hallucination. This theory has some merit to it! After all, his CT does two things:

1) It distorts reality.

2) By sheer force of will it bends people's souls to his whims.

One of the biggest complaints about the past 3 chapters has been the Merger plot ending abruptly. As of JJK 270 Tengen and Sukuna's remains have been mixed into the barrier around Japan and everything is just fine according to Gakuganji.

People wanted to see what the Merger would do, just like Kenjaku. In universe, Tengen made a prediction. They guessed that the impurity from humans would dominate and consume everything. The impurity that Higuruma wants to protect. The impurity that Higuruma sees in Yuji.

Would Sukuna activate the merger and kill Megumi to spite Yuji? Absolutely.

Would Yuji do or become anything to save Megumi's life? Absolutely.

Do whatever you want with this information.

[cheesycatz]

The Making of: Life-Size Malworm Plush

(Wormton AU)

STATS

16 ft 3 in (495 cm) long

Total time: 150 hours

Material Cost: $124

Theoretical minimum cost (based on seamstress wage): $2,524

(Progress photos and commentary below)

I'll be referring to my life-size wormton plush as "malworm" for convenience sake.

Unlike my Spamton NEO, Caine, and Fake Peppino plushies, I didn't spend a lot of time on concept art. Since I planned to make the malworm plush as close as possible to its 2D design, I didn't have to add much stylization, other than simplifying some details (no way in hell was I going to make 104 separate embroidered stitches for the segments of his toes, sorry). I mainly used the planning stage to calculate how wide the body pieces needed to be, plotting it out in 1/4 in : 3 in scale and using circumference formula to find the values I needed. I planned to make it around 10 feet long, the length of a young adult malworm. A lot of this project was improv, but, I mean, it wasn't my first or second or third time making a spamton centipede.

The head was quite a complicated shape, so I carved a tiny model out of craft foam, covered one half of it in masking tape, then cut the masking tape mask (hah) into flat pieces. I then traced the pieces onto graph paper and manually scaled them up by using the fact that I wanted the nose to be 1 ft long as reference. The rest of the pattern pieces were very simple, as wormton's teeth, body, legs, etc were very easy to translate into 2D shapes. I used old school notes as paper for the body, as I needed a lot of it. It was entertaining cutting exerpts of Moby Dick and English Renaissance biographies into body parts. I ended up making the body significantly longer; I had to spend $100 dollars on fur anyways, so why not make a maximum size one?

Making the pattern pieces took around 8 hours. While waiting for the fur to ship, I started cutting out the teeth, legs, and eyes. By the time the fur arrived, I had already sewn 36 worm teeth. I did an 11hr all-nighter to cut all the fur in one sitting the day it arrived. After a long vacuuming session and an uptake in the amount of polyester fiber in my lungs, I finished cutting the pieces, taking about 18 hours and 40 minutes.

As usual, the head was the first thing I worked on. It was...kind of wonky once I flipped it inside out. I trimmed some of the fur so that I could actually see what was happening. The main issues were the lack of any forehead, the nose being way too wide, and the cheeks being too flat. I did some ladder stitching as well as modifying the thing from the inside, and eventually made the head look much better. The cheeks still don't stick out that much still, but I'm happy with how the head looks now. I think it conquered the sopping wet owl resemblance. I inserted wire into the nose and jaws to help them keep their shape.

When I started this project, I wasn't sure whether to make it based off of Wormton or just a copyright-free malworm; I decided to do both. I went with red for the non-Spamton version, as I think it really fits the cartoony fly/mothman-style cryptid look malworms are supposed to have.

I sewed a square pouch into the throat and put in all those teeth. I used hot glue to wrap blue squares around a wire for the proboscis, because I think I would've gone bonkers cuckoo bananas if I had to hand sew that entire thing. The throat pouch holds the proboscis when it's not extended, as well as anything else I wanted to shove in there. I never measured it, but it's around 4-5 ft long. I finally made the Spamton... eye patches(?) and a pair of eyelids, though I didn't end up using them in the photo shoot. I also made a new pair of nostrils, as the old ones kind of got swallowed up from all the plastic surgery I was giving him

Now that the head was finished, I got to work on the body. I sewed the white belly and segments of the body together. I left most of the tail open, as the fur was too thick for me to flip it out at a certain point. I worked on the legs, next. After living out my cosplay dreams by putting the claws on my fingers like bugles chips, I grouped the claws together and sewed most of each leg and foot together, leaving me with many pairs of charred drumsticks (did not taste good)

I attached an extra long wire structure into each set of claws, then threaded the wire through each respective leg and stuffed them. I ladder stitched the claws to each foot, then stuffed each with some plastic beans in order to give the feet weight. I then finished sewing each foot shut. I now had a pile of disembodied limbs and one very long scarf.

I wound many long pieces of wire together to create an armature for the body. While the plush's body is way too heavy to be properly posable, the wire does still give some structure. I wrapped the extra long ends of the legs' wires to the metal spine, using the body's leg holes for reference. I then pulled the body up the metal armature like a sock.

I pulled the legs through their respective holes and stuffed the body. It was the first time the malworm was huggable! It's sort of like an oversized body pillow, in a way. I had to ladder-stich all the limbs, the head, and the rest of the tail, as it would've been completely impossible to flip inside out. It was quite difficult to do on furry fabric, and my thread frequently broke from the force I had to pull with to keep the stitches tight. Eventually, I got everything attached to some degree.

The last details I worked on were the mane, tail tufts, and scopula pads. The mane and tail tufts were ladder stitched onto the body, but I decided to use glue to attach the pads to the feet. I think the extra blue details make his proboscis fit much better, and who doesn't love spider paw pads? I also glued some velcro to the eye patches so that they stay attached better. They slide under the black eye rings.

My malworm was finally finished! I tried to put a lot of effort into the photo shoot so that people who don't know about the AU can enjoy it. I wanted to make it seem like some weird entity whose only goal is obtaining more Spamton brainrot. Hence it making Spamton on Mario Kart DS under the bed, obsessing over the Spamton Plush, inspecting the Spamton Shrine, and just generally harassing the photographer (me, I guess?). I wanted to capture the silliness, creepiness, and lack of respect for personal space that Spamton is known for. I thought about giving him a bag of doritos under the bed like that one image of the isopods eating them, but went with the DS instead. I thought it would be funny to see this thing playing Super Mario 64 DS (or Super Spamton 64) and here the "buh bye!" sound effect when it closes the DSi XL.

That's all from me, for now. I have other Wormton related matter to attend to.

Don't let the parasitic Spamton larvae bite

[vashtijoy]

This one is extremely strange, so strange that I think I must have got it wrong somehow? Here's a line from Akechi's Black Mask navigation. Yeah, you know which one this is going to be:

Here's the English audio:

Is it me, or is something a little... off, here? Look at the portrait. Doesn't he look a little... calm? Downbeat, even?

Here's another use of the same portrait. This is not a laughing statement:

Akechi has a laughing navigator portrait, of course:

it's okay goro we know you're very normal

So we've got a mismatch between the portrait and the English line. Let's have a listen to the Japanese audio:

They're a bit... different? He's not laughing, he's not gloating. Just "Huh, I guess that was a thing that happened..."

So what's going on here?

translation time

Akechi 敵1体逃走！仲間に見捨てられたようだね。 teki ittai tousou! nakama ni misuterareta you da ne This one just got betrayed by its teammate! Ha, imagine how that feels! [lit. One enemy fled! Looks like this one was abandoned by its friend, huh?] One more enemy out of the way! So this last one got dumped by its friend, huh?

Let's talk about 見捨てる misuteru—"to abandon". misuteru pops up regularly in the P5R script. It comes up when someone's being ditched, bailed on, forsaken by God—generally left behind: if your friends run out on you, you are being misuterued.

Are there any contexts where misuteru can mean betray? Sure. If you leave a friend held hostage to die, the shadow will accuse you of misuteruing them. nakama o misuteru is used consistently here, similarly to Akechi's line above—"you betrayed your friend by leaving them to die".

Here's Kawakami, at the end of her confidant, resolving to never abandon any of her students again:

Kawakami でも、これからは君のことも守るよ。教師として、絶対、見捨てたりしないから。 demo, kore kara wa kimi no koto mo mamoru yo. kyoushi toshite, zettai, misutetari shinai kara. But from now on, I'm going to protect you too. As your teacher, I will never betray you.

What does Kawakami do? She tries to help her student Takase, but in the end abandons him; she believes she betrayed him to his death. But she betrayed him by giving up on him; by abandoning him. She misuterued him.

Here's Futaba, during her apology to Joker for dumping him at the start of Maruki's reality:

Futaba てかむしろ怒るだろ!{F1 82}のこと見捨てたんだぞ!? te ka mushiro okoru daro! <given name> no koto misuteta n da zo!? Why wouldn't you be!? I betrayed you! Don't you get that!?

Under Maruki's influence, Futaba loses herself in her happy family life, and leaves Joker to handle things essentially alone. Futaba betrays Joker by abandoning him; she misuterus him.

how does akechi use misuteru?

Besides the usage above, Akechi has two other uses of misuteru in P5. One is in his deleted Mementos mission from the third semester:

Akechi 君たちのことだしこういう人間は見捨てておけないだろう? kimi-tachi no koto da shi kou iu ningen wa misutete okenai darou? Well, considering what you and your group do, I imagine you could hardly abandon him to his fate...

This doesn't mean "betray". There's no relationship between Joker and the mission target—there's no betrayal. There's just an abandoning—a refusal to help.

Akechi やっぱり馬鹿は⋯お前らだ。見捨てて行けば、よかったのに⋯ yappari baka wa... omaera da. misutete ikeba, yokatta no ni... The real fools... are you guys. You should have just abandoned me here a long time ago... [lit. the real fools... are you guys. if only you'd [just] abandoned me here...]

Now this line is a doozy. Look at that use of misuteru here; in vanilla, it was his only use of this word. Akechi has just got done explaining that being unwanted and cast aside is the thing he fears most of all. He has shaped his life around it. He's done murder for it. Everything he's become, he became, at base, because he was abandoned—because he was misuterued.

It's here, at the very end, that he turns his back on that. This unwanted child who has killed to be wanted—he looks at Joker and the Phantom Thieves on the other side of the engine room shutters, people who've proved that they value him and want him around, for himself. And he says to them—no; you're idiots; why didn't you abandon me, like everyone else has? He says to them, I won't let you die here, and I care about that more than I care about being abandoned.

Everything about Akechi is resolving at this moment. He transcends his obsession, fear and trauma. And that word misuteru is doing a ton of heavy lifting—because if Akechi can't have what he wants, then he'll reject it. He makes a free choice, for once in his life.

This moment influences him for the whole of the third semester. And when we hear him say misuteru later on, we should remember this. When black mask navigator Akechi notes the Shadow being abandoned to its fate, he isn't laughing about it; he's thinking about it. In his head, he isn't the betrayer, thinking of Joker in the interrogation room; he is the betrayed, being left behind by everyone he ever hoped would care about him. He's being left behind behind that engine room door.

This line as localised, taken in isolation, can transform your reading of Akechi's character and motives—which is why it's so important to look at the whole of canon, and not single cherrypicked lines. Step forward, "I hate you"

unhinged ranting

Lemme be clear here: this line has always pissed me off for its inconsistency. Akechi reacts against the engine room ending in the third semester, sure. Almost the first thing he does is to rub that deal they made in Joker's face. He's desperate not to be viewed as that pitiful object on the floor. He's desperate to keep up walls between himself and the others—for whatever reason.

But after 1/2, he doesn't really gloat about what he's done. He doesn't argue with Futaba's threat to him on 1/11—"if you ever betray us again, we'll make sure you regret it."; he just agrees to her terms, which he knows are well deserved. He's not walking around like "lol, I got you arrested and tried to murder y'all and there was that whole thing"; even unhinged combat Akechi doesn't do that. Except for this one line. When he suddenly reveals that, deep down, he thinks the whole thing was hilarious.

Except he didn't do that at all. If he did, I think he'd find the others tolerated him a lot less. And he's already walking a knife edge with many of them.

What was the translator's brief here? Honestly, I have no idea. Did they even have access to the original audio? Did they have time to play it? Did Atlus give them a brief to make this guy just as crazy insane as possible?—because we know they told Akechi's JP VA, Soichiro Hoshi, to underplay it.

Either way, I don't think the line as localised (and as delivered, excellently, by Robbie Daymond) corresponds to the Japanese audio. traduttore, traditore—translators are traitors. Even me

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.1 (2024/6/18)—it's 1/11, not 1/13!

v1.0 (2024/6/18)—first posted.

[project-sekai-facts]

Wait An/Kohane have outright stated romantic interest?

poor wording on my end bc they never actually say "an and kohane like each other romantically" but the evidence it very much there and it is clearly depicted and phrased in other ways. for example: the shoujo sparkle effect that is used for An from Kohane's POV.

This effect is often used on Haruka in Minori's imagination, which, well, let's just say it doesn't disprove that Kohane is attracted to An. While the effect is also used to show a character being cute or having a strong "idol" aura without any attraction attached, it's prettly clear the intent was to show Kohane's attraction. Also she was blushing.

Bonus points to the fact the wedding event has a underlying message (they say it on screen) about how marriage should be equal regardless of the genders of the couple [because gay marriage currently isn't legal in Japan].

There's also literally everything in Buddy Funny Spend Time. While almost all of the interactions in that event can be read as platonic if you really want to, they're written so you can interpret it as romantic if you choose to. And considering the featured pairs in this event were Minori/Haruka, An/Kohane, and (briefly) Shizuku/Airi, it's not like that reading isn't supported by the writers lol. There's one part where Minori and Kohane get jealous of how close Haruka and An are as childhood friends and aren't sure if they can amount to that, but they want to try. Doesn't necessarily have to be romantic but can be if you choose to read it as such.

When Kohane is visibly attracted to Haruka, An gets slightly jealous and says that her singing should be the only thing that makes Kohane react that way.

Haruka also points out that although An has always been super friendly she's never been like this with anyone until Kohane came into her life, and still keeps this behaviour Kohane-exclusive. An says it's because they're partners, which, kinda friendzones them, but kinda doesn't.

The word for partner used in the story - "aibou" - means, to put it in incredibly basic terms, coworkers. It's like the cowboy or detective word for partner, though I believe it comes up in shounen every so often (the genre vbs story is based on). In itself, aibou has no romantic connotation. But 3 of the partnerships we see in VBS' story have lots of interactions that easily read as having romantic undertones, so basically in the context of VBS story the nature of said partnerships becomes a little more ambiguous. The word is still platonic and that doesn't change, but you get the idea. Oh and VBS has recurring romantic soulmate imagery more on that later.

continuing on BFST, yeah they went on a date. which is strongly suggested to be a romantic date unlike how it's sometimes used platonically. like the other characters say An is "seeing someone", at least in the English translation, which is very much associated with romantic interest. Also the original Japanese for the "do you know who she's going out with" line uses the phrase デートの相手 which is the Japanese equivalent for the word "date" (as in a person/your date), so it's not really any different. they go on another one in Kick it up a notch and An's card story for the event. their relationship is never labelled or anything (probably bc this genre avoids that sorta thing for fan-related reasons) but this very much was a thing that happened.

(also when ken says partner he says aibou. so not partner /r but anyway it does clarify that this date is to do with their relationship on a different level to partners /p. ie: an's going on a date with kohane because she's cute not because she's her partner. language is fun)

Lastly back on that thing I said I'd come back to. The Walk on and on costumes have romantic soulmate symbolism included on them. The wings on the backs of the outfits are based on the mythical hiyoku bird, a one-winged bird that could only fly after meeting its other half. Kohane's costume has pink accents, one of the variants has accents in An's image color and the wings on the backs of those variants match up to each other. The card illstrations themselves also feature crows, which mate for life. While the symbolism is mostly associated with Toya, the Whip the Wimp Girl! cards take place in the same location as the woao cards which is pretty neat, and makes sense given the themes of both events. I've put both their gacha logos above as well. Oh and An's card for wtwg was. Something.

And Kohane got the valentine event this year and it was about her entering a contest to win limited edition chocolates for An I forgot about that until just now.

Have fun with that.

[tuktukpodfics]

The Problem With "Dao Swords": My love-hate relationship with pleonastic translations

An essay that no one asked for.

A lot of fanfics call Zuko’s broadswords “dao swords.” As a Chinese to English translator, this phrase makes me pause every time. Here is my humble opinion on “dao swords” and other pleonastic translations:

What the heck is a pleonastic translation?

I’m so glad you asked! “Pleonasm” is a fancy term for a redundant phrase, like “black darkness” or “burning fire.”

A pleonastic translation is a phrase that puts the source language and the translation back-to-back. A common example is “chai tea” which literally means “tea tea.”

“Dao swords” is a pleonastic translation. “Dao” 刀 is the Chinese blanket term for blade. The phrase basically means “sword swords.” Sounds pretty silly, right?

Pleonastic translations are bad?

I think it depends on your audience, the text purpose, and how special the word is.

In advertising, pleonastic translations can help increase a product’s searchability. Ex: “Longjing Dragonwell tea” would appear in a Google search for either “longjing” or “dragonwell.”

Tourist destinations often use pleonastic translations to help foreigners navigate. Ex: “Nanzhan South Station” on a map helps foreigners know what the place is, but also gives them the Chinese pronunciation so that they can communicate with their taxi driver.

In literature, a pleonastic translation is a succinct way to introduce a culturally significant term without a footnote or distracting tangent. A lot of translators will sneak in a pleonastic translation the first time the word appears in a text, and then use the untranslated term alone every time after. Ex: "He slouched on the kang bed-stove. His grandmother sighed and took a seat on the kang too.”

Is "dao" a culturally significant word?

No.

Dao is a super mundane word used to describe any kind of single-edged blade, from butter knives to ice skates. It feels weird to keep such a normal word untranslated. Using the Chinese word emphasizes its foreignness. They’re not just swords, they’re special, Chinese swords. 

Yes, words take on different meanings as they pass from culture to culture. That’s how language works. But English is also a unique case. Because of imperialism. I think English speakers have an obligation to avoid exotifying every-day words.

Also, English is a global language. Chinese speakers are reading your translation, and…I dunno...“sword swords” feels off putting. Disruptive.

But I want to acknowledge the real-life culture behind the swords

Giving credit to the cultures that you're borrowing from is an A+ idea.

...I don't know how to do this in a fantasy setting.

Zuko’s swords and fighting style is based on oxtail sabers (牛尾刀）and Shaolin dual broadswords (少林双刀). @atlaculture has a very cool post on oxtail sabers. But calling his swords "oxtail sabers" doesn't work because cows don't exist in atla. Shaolin is a type of martial arts that originates from Shaolin temple in Henan, China (Shaolin itself literally means “young forest”). But you can’t call them “Shaolin broadswords," since Shaolin does not exist in the Fire Nation.

It’s quite a pickle.

Maybe just use a footnote?

So what should I call Zuko’s swords?

I don’t know.

I think you can just call them broadswords. That’s what the TV show calls them.

Dao by itself could work too if you need to differentiate Zuko's dao from Sokka's jian (double-edged blade). Readers can probably figure out what dao means from context.

If it’s not clear from context what dao means? *sigh* ..."Dao swords" it is, I guess.

To end on a happier note, here is a video of Chang Zhizhao busting some sweet moves.

[dontforgetukraine]

"In response to attacks and accusations being directed at our film, 'Russains at War,' and myiself, I want to be clear that this Canada-France co-production is an anti-war film made atg great risk to all involved, myself especially. I unequivocally believe that Russia's invasion of Ukraine is unjustified, illegal and acknowledge the validity of the International Criminal Court investigation of war crimes in Ukraine. The suggestion that our film is propaganda is ludicrous given that I'm now at risk of criminal prosecution in Russia. I also understand and empathize with the pain and anger that the subject matter may provoke in those who have suffered from this conflict. My mother emigrated to Canada, from Russia, so that we could live in a country that is devoted to freedom of expression and human rights. My hope is that our film can be assessed and discussed based on its scope and not agendas and assumptions beyond its frame, and that ultimately such discussions contribute to the war's end." —Anastasia Trofimova, Director/Producer, Russians at War (Source)

Bullshit. She's a director and producer for RT with most if not all of her films funded by RT. I guess she apparently wasn't vetted by the Canada-France co-producers.

Even if promoting Russian propaganda wasn't her intention, it can't be separated from the content. The damn trailer has soldiers saying propaganda narratives in it. (Kyiv Independent)

"Russia and Ukraine have always been inseparable. I miss the brotherly Union" reinforces the false narrative that Ukraine cannot exist as an independent state, that Russia and Ukrainian history are inseparable. Even Putin has said similar things.

“I came (to war) today so that my kids don’t go tomorrow,” conveying the belief that their military aggression in Ukraine is somehow just.

"An order was given. We went." Ah, yes, I was just following orders. Where have we heard that one before, I wonder. Not only that, it reinforces the narrative that ordinary Russians are powerless and blameless in this conflict. This isn't their war, but Putin's war. Fuck that. We know many sign up willingly such as for the money or a clean slate if they are a convict.

You can't separate the propaganda ordinary russians have been stewing in for decades and don't fight back against from this film, sweetheart. It's part of the damned context and you don't get to ignore that. Either she actually realizes that but doesn't want to say it, or she's a useful idiot. It doesn't matter which, because the result is the same.

"The fog of war is so thick that you can't see the human stories its made of."

Yes we can! This isn't the era of WW2. We can see it on Telegram! All the war crimes that are willingly committed and recorded and posted pridefully! All the ethnic slurs said to Ukrainians! All the interviews between journalists and POWs. The translations by volunteer translators showing what "ordinary Russians" on the street actually think about Ukrainians and the war. Even what the families of russian soldiers think. Never before have these stories been more accessible. That's not agendas or assumptions.

We. Can. See. It.

Just because you don't like what's in the information space doesn't mean it's not supremely relevant to the topic you're trying to shape into a narrative.

[fecto-forgo]

anyways heres some misc jamba cult info from the japanese version of star allies the official translation removed/changed the meaning of i found a couple days back (fan translations can be found here)

-this is implied but misworded in english, the jamba cult worships dark matter rather than be masters of it (this is prob why gooey gets positive nickname privileges from zan on twitter)

-the magic n science ancients old relationship prior to the magic clans ban is explicitly positive in japanese

-english hyness says magic overcame science n reached prosperity, japanese says science n magic could only reach prosperity when together

-for wtv reason, english replaced one of the mentions of the "book of legends" (the book abt void hyness has) w talking abt ambiguous ancient scrolls instead...?

-theres some references to a paradise void will destroy in the japanese screens w that one cult prayer that were cut from english (the second n fourth ones specifically iirc), the sisters guest star screens make references to paradise as well, make of that what you will regarding the religious side of the cult

-most if not all instances of void being called dark lord r used to censor out void being called god/god of destruction in the original version

-pon & cons japanese title (a-un guardian beasts) is a reference to a buddhist concept of beginning n ending, the pause screen states they surrendered to the enemy n thats why theyre doing guard work there, rather than they became cultists off screen between games like one might assume

-japanese hyness uses ~ when talking a lot, while most ppl associate that w a character having a sweet cute voice tone, for him it likely just indicates he tends to drag out the end of words a lot

-fully removed from english, hyness has a complex abt his face, which is why its so well covered

-zans second boss screen in english credits her loyalty to hyness' intoxicating charisma n her sense of duty, while japanese later does canonize she has a strong sense of duty in a different screen, it instead says for the second boss she feels indebted he took her in n is also "enamoured" by his charisma n "admires him from within the heart", quoting the used wording bc i think shes both adorable n so deeply worrisome

-weve all heard the english translation censored zan being heavily implied to have attempted suicide n being saved by hyness after it fails (succeeds?) after shes struck by lightning n nearly dies/gets bought back by him.wtv take on hyness saving the mages you prefer

-zan is never called the eldest of the sisters in the original, just the chief of the trio

-hyness misremembers zans name as zan paruru, a pun on the japanese word for forgotten (wasuraruru), that same pun is used for her boss themes title

-one of zans attacks in japanese is named after the "thunder candies" (type of wagashi) found in kaminarimon, where a statue of the shinto thunder god raijin is found, zans drums used during that same attack r literally based on raijins own drums

-zans first boss screen claims she toys w her enemies through her quick attacks rather than render them helpless like prey.just mentioning bc thats silly n has a slightly new show of her personality that line up w her depiction on the official twitter in a way

-flamberge wasnt taking a break in her second boss fight she was just slacking off n picked a nice star/planet on purpose for that.thats funny of her so its justified

-flamberge calls francisca kiss-chan in japanese, this is the same nickname zan gives her in japanese thats officially translated as franny

-this isnt mentioned in the documents but im bringing it up bc its funny.that part of HIAD where francisca calls flamberge "miss flamberge" was just flamberge-san in jp, -san is just a polite honorific to use that isnt immediately translated to miss/mister, specially if the characters know each other.why did they make it that lmao

-japanese explicitly says too much heat might straight up make francisca melt (english also implies that tbf)

-francisca dislikes "pointless murder", but is fine freezing ppl n keeping them for her collection if she deems them an enemy

-hyness' japanese title can be read as both mage priest n devil priest

-the sisters titles all have a reoccurring use of ice blossom, hellfire n thunder fang respectively, n theyre called the demon generals instead of mage sisters

-HIAD hyness' title fell priest has a reference to fallen angels.i feel thats giving pre corruption hyness too much personality credit but alright

-void is refered to both as devil n angel in different forms titles.this is awesome

-theres a kanji for hope thats associated w the jamba cult throughout the whole game

-the japanese guest star screens for the mages say theyre no longer praying n r seeking a new paradise together, for whatever reason, english completely removes the no longer praying part, completely losing the meaning of the sentence n development the sisters have (interestingly, hyness is mentioned in those n still called their master, n zans description straight up states she wants him to watch her triumph (translated officially as her wanting to make him proud), so its not actually explained if they disbanded the cult or theyre just.some kind of normal religion now? but theyre atleast touching grass now)

todays conclusion is the KSA translators just hate us 👍 check the linked fan translation for more examples of that

[jeidafei]

Hi, DGM fandom! I'm jeidafei. You may have seen me in Kougeki-scans' scanlation of D.Gray-Man.

I know Kougeki releases have been delayed for these past few chapters. And people have taken to releasing their own translations on Reddit and MangaDex as early as a few days after the Japanese release. We at Kougeki have asked people to wait if they could. People have told us to, basically, go d*e.

And of course, you are perfectly entitled to say so. You are perfectly entitled to release your own translations and not wait. After all, we at Kougeki are just fans of D.Gray-Man, similar to you. We have zero claim over the series.

I normally stay out of the fray when it comes to quarrels with these 'snipers' until now. When I saw the quality of the translations some of these people are putting out.

(Specifically, Chapter 250 on MangaDex)

Japanese is a difficult language. D.Gray-Man is a difficult manga to translate due to its ongoing status, complex nature and plot twists. I have made mistakes myself that others have pointed out. I have my own interpretations that might be different. I readily forgive mistakes I understand are due to the complex Japanese grammar, and the confusing mysteries of the D.Gray characters.

But these are not it. These are just blatant laziness and lack of basic knowledge of even the most recent developments in D.Gray-Man. Or even simple logic. These are the results of people dishing out sub-par work quickly just to get the most exposure possible.

So while we wait for Kougeki's version, I am going to point out these egregious mistakes. We need transparency so that going forward, you can make your own decisions on whether it is speed or accuracy you are looking for.

The original Japanese text says "7,000 years ago" (七千), not "17 years"（十七）. A difference any beginner Japanese learner would notice. Even most D.Gray-Man fans without Japanese knowledge would probably realize something is off based on what we know of the story so far.

The original text says "Do(es) the passion/sentiments run so deep, you must reincarnate into a human who resembles Nea?" (the word 'regret' is simply not there). I think 'passion' or 'sentiments' are more compatible here, considering earlier theories about Tyki, the Noah of Pleasure.

Jasdevi is saying they were at their limits anyway and wouldn't be able to keep restraining Apocryphos for long. When Wisely orders them to dispose of Apo, they scream "Oni!" (Demon) which is quite similar to "Onii-san" (Elder brother), but most people would probably know which one is more fitting in this scenario, even without Japanese knowledge.

When Desires asks Wisely if he is just going to set Apo free like that, Wisely explains that this way, Apocryphos (not Desires or Wisely as in the translation), can keep searching for the Heart for them. Again, basic story knowledge.

Wisely didn't say "Fine, enough already"; this bubble is a continuation of the earlier bubble, spoken by Desires. Together, he is saying "Wouldn't you just spit it out already!?"

In Japanese, many words sound the same and the meaning can only be determined by context or the Chinese characters (kanji) used. In this case, "kikai" can mean either "machine" (機械) or "opportunity" (機会) or "strange" (奇怪), among a dozen others.

Yes, it's difficult, I know. But, you see the kanji. You know the context. I'm sure you can take a guess.

There are a couple more minor mistakes (ones that don't impact your understanding of the story too much). But I'm just going to leave you with one more, the most conspicuous mistake:

The chapter is named "Curse's End" by this translator. Actually, it's the opposite in Japanese. "Owaranu" is a form of "Owaranai" which means "not ending", which fits the revelation of this chapter by Wisely that their 35-year curse has yet to come to an end.

So, there you have it.

As you can see, I'm not shaming people for not being as fluent in Japanese. Not everyone can dedicate almost two decades to learn a language. As I have pointed out, most of these mistakes are rookie-level, and should have been picked up in double-check if that someone is familiar with D. Gray-Man at all. With these nigh unforgivable mistakes, even Deepl and Google Translate are more accurate.

This is a matter of someone not giving enough of a sh*t, plain and simple.

I'm also not gatekeeping scanlation whatsoever. I'm just pointing out the mistakes and actual text because the fandom deserves to know. With the localization drama going on, it proves faithfulness to the actual text and accuracy matters.

Of course, anyone has the right to put out their translation. And I have the right to point out whether they can be trusted. I'm not passing judgment. I'm just providing evidence so the bystanders can decide for themselves.

Lastly, from the bottom of my heart, I thank everyone who has supported the work of Kougeki Scans and waited for our release. I apologize for the delays. We're working on the latest chapter and will release 249 and 250 very, very soon.

[sigils-library]

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐞.

𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: After being banished from the previous village you resided in due to your identity being a skinchanger revealed, you are forced to fled before the townsfolk hunted you, and a midst your journey, you find yourself in the North, Winterfell. Cluelessly bumping into the Lord of The North himself.

WARNINGS: This series (?) Does not follow the HOTD timeline, and characters may become OOC in some occasions, and the whole plot is based on an alternate timeline I made myself, OOC Characters.

𝐒 𝐈 𝐆 𝐈 𝐋 𝐒  𝐋 𝐈 𝐁 𝐑 𝐀 𝐑 𝐘 .

-

Ragged breaths showed visibly in the cold winter, every puff of air immediately freezing.

Every step taken dug deep into the piling snow beneath the hooded figure, teeth chattering slightly, holding onto the cloak which served little to no warmth.

Traversing further, eyelashes had collected snow on them, further concealing the womans eyes.

She cursed herself repeatedly.

Had she not revealed she was a skinchanger.

Had she not told them that she meant no harm despite her nature.

Then may she wouldn't have been banished from that small village, cursed to be burned someday, she thought.

Why did she say it was cursed? She merely assumed so, the dragons whom lived freely in there had been aggrevated multiple times by townsfolk, and it wouldn't be long until one of them just ends up awakening the beasts who's already pissed, and rain flames and ashes upon their land.

Coughing, a wall made of cobblestone meets her gaze.

Its tall, huge, and guarded.

She's arrived in a new kingdom it seemed.

Perhaps she can seek refuge in it, start anew, and swore to never shift from her humane skin ever again.

That sounded nice.

Exhaling, the woman kept trudging through snow, fingertips shaking, she was never really a fan of the cold, not when she wasn't shifted to a cold-blooded animal at least.

Nearing the gates, it was open, the bustling kingdom in snow looked.. Cozy..?

The woman entered the town by blending in with the crowd, an easy path she took.

Walking the streets, she barely got noticed by any of the locals, such ignorance of many that leads others into misery, or sometimes, their own.

Too lost in her thoughts she failed to notice the man cloaked in fur infront of her, bumping her head on his chest.

Hard chestplate, Ouch. She thought. Stumbling a few steps back, she immediately lowered her head.

"Apologies..- I didn't mean to bump into you sir-"  She spoke, voice lightly hoarsed with an itchy throat.

The man gazed at the hooded figure with slight annoyance and curiosity. "It is no trouble, raise your head."

She shuddered, not being able to identify whether if it was from the cold, or the mans voice, as stoic and cold as steel.

Raising her head, she kept her  head still slightly downward.

"Why do you not have a cloak of fur? It is winter." The man pried. "I do not have the riches to buy one, or the skills to hunt for one, sir." She replied, part of her just wanted to leave, but another wanted to continue. A battle in her mind.

She flinched when a weight was added along her back. A cloak made of fur.

The cloak of the man.

"You do not need to- you need i—"  She was glad to have her hood on, as a red tint spread across her cheeks. "Hush, you need it more than I do."  The man spoke, fixing the cloak around the hooded woman.

The woman was stunned the whole time, from the man wrapping and adjusting the cloak around her, until the man left, settling on the saddle of his horse, watching him ride away.

The only familiar thing she manages to commit to memory was his dark hair as he rode away.

Who was that man?

A/N: First time I'm posting again!! Slow updates though, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated, and I do not want my work translated in any other medias without my credentials, if you want to be added to the taglist, comment down below!

[the-entitie]

COD men x K-9 Unit male reader

Part 1 | Part 2》》

A/n: I can speak three languages, only one of which borrow German words, so forgive me for shitty translations. I'm from the RSA, so you know. Not any of the boys hometown.

Reader works with a K-9 unit and his partner is called Mutt who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, the reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with him.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Left: American Akita and Right: Long-haired Doberman

John Price: (740 words)

-He met you first, saw you first. Hell, he verified your file so he knew of your old teammates that turned because of the torture, and he knew of the many years you spent MIA. He also knows what you did to get out. So he keeps you close and keeps an eye on you. He's the one who needs to clear you for this recon mission. It will be his fault if another team mate goes rogue. -It only take him a few minutes to see how much you actually relay on Mutt, it takes him days to see its not reliance, no the two of you act in a cemented trust between you two. From the interactions at home base to the way you both move like a well oiled machine on the field, it doesn't take a genius to see that Mutt is a deadly force with training that makes the hound that much more dangerous. Price comes face to face with that realization when he sees just how far Mutt can throw a soldier four times their size. And Mutt came up to his thighs, mind you. -Time and space are all Price really needed to trust you completely. He knew how you acted with Mutt, and therefore, he knew how you would act around a team you trust. It doesn't take him long to see its not only Mutt who reacts to you. You react just as much based on your K-9. Price nearly shoots you when you call out to Mutt because you didn't whistle for the hound. You howled, and he could hardly tell it apart from the wild dogs he's heard out in the desert. He didn't even understand what the fuck you where doing until he heard something answer you, in the same rumbling call. It took a lot more time to get used to those kinds of noises from you. He could expect them from Mutt but not when it's you who makes them -Both of you were exhausted, been about three long days on your feet with little sleep, that's when he asks you how you make the sounds Mutt does. Hell he even starts trying to learn them just to know how you and you K-9 partner work better. "So I just cup my hands and what now Riot? I Grunt?" "No," you laugh at him, he doesn't feel patronized by it, "you hold your hands around your mouth and just bark, makes it echo like a dog." He sounded more like a mountain lion then canine when he actually gave it a try. You teach him how to pitch it up a bit, and how to drag the call out properly. "And you don't use your hand because?" "Because I'm used to it, and can make the 'echo' without my hands. I still do when I howl. Look." A few nights pass before he uses it to scare a tango shitless out side of the enemy base. He doesn't admit it but he likes 'talking' to the local wild dogs with you. He even enjoys hearing you and Mutt go off at each other because it means your both alive and still here. -Out side of the field and when you two go out to roam the town at the dead of night, he comes to see that the canine noises you and Mutt share gives you peace. The kind he used to find in cigars and smoke. He gets it, he knows that some people just have a vice. When you find him smoking alone behind his own home, he shrugs it off and blames it on the smoke detectors. He doesn't say that he stops to make your K-9 more comfortable in his home. He doesn't stop smoking but he tries to avoid it for your sake. You only corner him around a day or so to thank him. He won't admit to the red flaring up on his ears, but he tells you to drop it. -If he's ever the one who finds you when your having an attack, he will guard you. Get you safe and comfortable then he will become a gruff mother bear and be completely over protective of you. He only calms down when he sees that Mutt already does that, and he learns what can help you, what to look out for. He won't admit it though.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: (734 words)

-Ghost didn't like you at first. or well he doesn't like anyone actually but he didn't like you. -You had a dog breed that was originally made for bear bating and he hated that he knew that. Even if you didn't get the hound because of that. Well, that and Mutt is constantly muzzled. It took you explaining it was required by law for him to try and ignore it. -But when he watches how fluidly you and Mutt work together, even seeing the raw fucking power that dog has when Mutt tackled an enemy to the ground, he starts to understand why you have to keep Mutt muzzled. Even if he didn't like it. -Simon has an ex-military dog at home so he knows how to act around an active working dog. He's the best to be around if you don't want people petting or trying to do anything really with your K-9 partner. -when at the base afterwards he sees that the dog isn't just a working dog but acts like you service dog. Everything from crowd control to doing small tasks for you on the daily. To siting between your legs when you have your back to anyone when doing a task to protect you. Mutt will even start doing this quiet sort of 'rueff' sound that will make you get out of where ever you are without any fanfare, you will just disappear. -He only finds out why a lot later. He feel kind of stupid for missing it after the fact. -Its the scars that cross your back and over your shoulders, the hitches of thick skin around your jaw. You are a torture survivor. So suddenly he gets it. Mutt is your safety, the dog wears a muzzle because your K-9 partner is also a person protection dog. -After he realized the why you stick to your partner so closely, he would begin to help Mutt protect you. He would stand ahead of you when Mutt would lay down to create space (crowd control). Ghost would watch your back and react with your partner to help you. -He takes his mask off when you two are either alone or when your are forced to show your scares he shows some of his to help you feel more comfortable. -you start to notice it, and at first you would try to stop him but eventually you just start protecting him back. You become more comfortable around him. Simon notices it to. -One day after a few days straight of being on your feet, both you and Simon end up passed out in his private quarters. Ghost wakes first to see Mutt cuddle against you and draped across him, when ever he tried to move the dog, they would just growl and to his utter amusement you growled back. -After that he gets you to 'talk' to Mutt any time he can, even on missions. - Ghost was the one who told you and Mutt to bark at each other to distract the enemy when on a recon mission. "Copy Riot, we need an in" "Need an in, copy. Any ideas for that L.t?" "Yeah, Riot go off and make some noise with Mutt" "Seriously?" "Yip, get going we need that data" You two got in, and yes you did start howling back and forth with Mutt in the echo trick wolves use. The enemy thought they were surrounded by cayotes. -When you eventually cuddle up with Ghost again, and Mutt yips or growls at you and you make the noise back, Simon will growl at you. It becomes a games between you to, even doing it as call outs outside of coms. Soap complains about wild dogs once and now Simon will get Mutt vocal just to fuck with Soap. -he starts calling you dog related nicknames, your name doesn't exist anymore. Call sign? only when necessary. You are now called with doggie names. He'll call out a, "Heh, Good boy" "Come on puppy you can speak" when you go dark on coms, or just when you don't answer him. Yes he will also say things like, "What ever you say Fido" -He makes you swear to never tell a soul that he also barks back at Mutt when you two are off duty. You caught him coping a growl when playing with Mutt once. -He gets Mutt and his las to meet. Now he also makes dog sounds with you on his down time, even without you much to his old girls delight.

John “Soap” Mactavish: (616 words)

-He loves your K-9 partner from the first time Price introduces you to the team, sure he tries to be professional but the second you let Mutt go off to play out of gear he just wants to give the hound so many pets. They are just so big and have that cute angry tilt to their face! Can you blame him. -when out on the field, he loves running with two of you on missions. The adrenaline and rush and just how much faster you two are than him. He loves it. -You end up doing it with him outside of missions after a while. Hiking out in mountains and secluded valleys, it's the first time he hears you howl with Mutt. The coyotes had started, yipping over whatever they killed lower down the ridge. Mutt, who was a few paces head, had paused to howl, without thinking you howl with them. Scares Soap but he just finds it fun. -Soap being so in love with Mutt leads to just being around you a lot. He starts learning what certain movements mean to you and your dog, how a sharp left with your hand was a call to draw back or how the shift of your stance meant to take the lead. It amazed him how well you read each other. -Then he sees how you act outside of the field, how Mutt still acted like a protector, and you kept mimicking the sounds Mutt made. Especially when you were more tired. He found it cute. Hell, he loved playing with Mutt, so when you made the hound more excited, he also got just as if not more excited. -Soap loves head scratches you find out when you two are off duty and hanging out. He's on the floor with Mutt and the hound he's cuddling wines before you reach down to comfort the dog with head scritches. You miss and pet Soap instead, beside being completely flustered, he asked you to do it again.  He just starts asking you to do it more and more before you start petting him the same way you pet over your hound. -Now you start with the dog related nicknames, even over coms. Much to Soaps embarrassment and the teams delight. He nearly buckles the first time you call him a good boy, and he does when you call him a good dog. Blames it on a miss step. -He loves, loves, loves listening to you, and Mutt yap back and forth, loves even more when you go to rough houses with growls and even try pining you down one. He fails, but he doesn't care. -Soap only catches one of your attacks when it's about sun down. You're both at his place standing in the kitchen when your shoulders suddenly hitch, but you continued on as normal. Until Mutt wandered over to you, they stopped dead before making a gruff noise and jumping up onto you. Instead of getting you secluded because, of course, the hound sees Soaps house as a safe space. And Mutt will get you down, force you to sit and lower your head. "Woh, n'er knew em ta jump? Wait shit. ROIT!" He'll be right there next to you, knows what to do because of Ghosts episodes on recons. "What's it, lad? What can I do ta help 'im?" -You don't really talk about it. Sure, you explain what it was and why Mutt did that, but not the why it happened. It takes a while to admit that the scares you hide are the reason for that attack. He gets it he does, and now? Mother fucker will do dumb shit to distract you, or just talk and talk and talk. It helps, he knows it helps.

König: (764 words)

-Being a sniper, he likes the added security, the extra eyes to help watch his back. Sure, he doesn't trust you per say but he tries to be friendly none the less. -He had no idea what Mutt was trained for until he saw the both of you take down someone who made it to his vantage point. He saw how you moved like Mutt was an extension of yourself, that's how you earn his respect. -König didn't know why you had so many commands for Mutt, but most of them were cues or just situational. Most of all, the verbal commands you use are in Russian and Dutch so he can understand some of the tasks you ask Mutt to do . It kind of scares him that Mutt would know which trail was a friend and which person wasn't. He stands by that fear when he watches you set them off on a run away target. -He will only admit to himself that both you and Mutt look way to good covered in the gore from that attack. -You had to explain that that kind of training meant your partner had to be muzzled. You both get to talking that night, swapping stories of close calls, and König shyly showed you the star splattered scar on his jaw. Lifting his hood up just enough to see it before hurriedly drooping it back down. You share a few of the worse days you had as a call in search and riot guard and snippets of the scars covering your throat. -Habits begin forming. König will be a silent wall between you and crowds while Mutt would start alerting to his anxiety attacks as well. You made a joke about borrowing Mutt to him on the days off. He didn't understand the first time Mutt barked at him in a weird gruff tone before jumping up and doing it again. It's when you get him secluded and safe that you explain it to him. "Its called signaling. They can tell you when these things are going to happen or are actively happening. " "So it's to let me know?" "Yeah, for me, it's when I'm going to either for a flash back or when my paranoia forces me into a panic attack." "Flash back?" "Yes, remember that sister I told you about." -It took days for you to actually relay that story to him. How your team abandoned you, how the enemy held your sisters head above your bloody form. You explained how that caused phantom pains or flashbacks and how crippling that can be some days. -He becomes your solace after that. He would be there when you needed it. Keep people away when you couldn't look at anyone. He even began listening to Mutts alerts. He even lets you help him through the easier ones. -König called you one night when you both were off for the next few days. You could tell by the shake on his breath what was happening before he could tell you. That was when you showed him how Mutt does decompression therapy, the hound big enough to help ground him. You stayed that night, even teaching König some of the commands you use to tell Mutt how to help you. He's quick to learn them as some phrases are Dutch that you use so he can catch the meaning of some commands. -You don't call him until a long while later. It's on a mission while you two are hunkered down after a botched extraction. Or well, Mutt calls him. "Riot? Are you, Oh Scheiße! 「Shit」" "wat 「what」, ag. What can I do? Dir helfen 「Help you」, how can I help. Please let me help you. " -He ended up holding how so you couldn't hurt yourself in these attacks. It didn't feel as entrapped as you thought it would. König is so much bigger than you, but it's like he makes a physical barrier between you and the world. He helps your partner make you feel safe. It's hard to explain to anyone why your panic attacks act like that, why your mind needs pain to calm from feeling like you're dying. König will explain how his attacks can feel suffocating, and that's why his jaw and throat are so bruised most days. -Between one mission and the next, you start showing off things you and Mutt can do to him, like Mutt retrieving throne knives or how the hound can trace any sent it knows for miles. -You only bark back at Mutt one night when trapped in a safe house. Neither of you could find each other, and mutt had run off

Alejandro Vargas: (720 words)

-Learning of the terrorist stationed so close to los vaqueros' home base, Alejandro was quick to reach out. The 141 had helped him before, so he was surprised to learn of the newer recruit they called in to help them. Alejandro told Price to just bring you along. They needed the extra help honestly, as much as he refused to trust any of 141 purely on principle. They needed the help. -He met you with Ruddy on the roof of the office building, and he asked the polit to land on. When you dropped from the helicopter with the others. Mutt held to your chest before being deposited on the ground. He's seen how some of the other search and rescue units who have K-9's, but he's never seen anyone who works with their hound like you do. Alejandro is both grateful and terrified to have you fighting with him.  -Seeing you and Mutt outside the field was even more intriguing. How the two of you reacted perfectly to each other, he saw a bit of himself and Rudy in the way you two work like a well-oiled machine. He tried to play nice, be kind and calm, but when shit hit the fan? He drops it. Its only been a week before you use the recall command on Mutt to level the man they needed to interrogate. Both of you were forced to hunker down in a safe house, Alejandro making the bound man walk with little success. He asked for your help not long after the son had dipped down.  "Think he will talk?" "Not willingly if that file you circulated was true." "Any ideas?" "You aren't scared of loud noises, are you?" "Not really, why?" -When you said you could help, this isn't what he was expecting, but it was working. You had taken to standing behind the tied down guy, and whenever Alejandro could sound even remotely frustrated,  you would call out to Mutt before the dog would lunge with a snarl or harsh bark. Scared the man shitless, and he would mumble about 'de-ablo' or 'deamons' on and off. When things got too harsh, or either of you were cornered, he watched in equal parts horror and delight as you let Mutt cull those surrounding you all. Watch as you both kill together just as well as you work together. -It eventually became a joke, the whole you being a dog or sounding like one. Even when the two of you left the safe house. Hell, he started talking to you like he would your dog. Started to tease you with the same command you used on your hound. "Come on, Roit, I know you can beg better than that." "Here, cachorro cachorro cachorro [puppy puppy puppy]!" "Such a good boy, you want a treat?" "There we go, Good perro. Now sit for me." Even saying he kept treats for when you were especially well behaved. If you didn't also start laughing along he wouldn't have kept doing it and actually started keeping 'treats' on hand for you on the late nights you two would just talk on and on about nothing and everything. -Being back at the base and left to your devices, he started asking about everything Mutt could do. He would ask if you could also do the tricks and inquire about the ones you could. "Wait cariño, you can howl?" "Yeah. Wanna hear me?" "Oh more than anything." "hhhm, maybe I'll do it later." "I'm happy to beg you, but I think you would sound better begging me, cariño." "I don't beg Alejandro." "You will. And you'll sound so good doing it." "Try me," -He loved hearing you talk to Mutt. Just waiting up at night to listen to the back and forth of barking and yips that echo across the open land. Whether from far away or not, he loved it. -Alejandro is the worst when either of you get hurt. He is the worst flirt, and he lays the dog related teasing on twice as thick. Not only is Rudy swearing him out in broken Spanish, but you don't help either. Doing anything to help him stay conscious or playing along to distract yourself from the pain. Even Mutt begins to see him as safe.

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