#never treated like i'd committed a crime for it

[autisticsupervillain]

Someone needs to do a thing about Phoenix Wright becoming a Tumblr celebrity/meme in universe, getting treated in a similar way to how we treat Hbomberguy irl. You cannot tell me that Tumblr wouldn't see a lawyer solve a fifteen year old cold case by cross examining a parrot and not immediately declare him our king.

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Werewolf--Sex:

On trial rn and my defense attorney seems to be lowkey flirting with the prosecutor and it's really killing the mood ngl.

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Steelsamuraiass:

OP, your attorney is Phoenix Wright. He's been married to that Prosecutor for fifteen years. I even credits him for inspiring him to take up law in the first place.

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Werewolf--Sex:

Aw, that's actually really sweet.

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Engarde-Simp:

Didn't that guy once solve a fifteen year old cold case by cross examining a parrot?

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Werewolf--Sex:

What?

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Wrightworthkismesis:

Newbies discovering the pure insanity that is Phoenix Wright's career will never not be funny. Your trial is gonna be legendary.

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Engarde-Simp:

Did you really not do any research on your attorney before hiring him?

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Werewolf--Sex:

Doing research rn. This guy's career is insane. Listed in no particular order, my attorney, Phoenix Wright has apparently:

Needed to have evidence law explained to him mid-trial

Proven the existence of ghosts to win his trials(?????????)

Defended an orca in court.

Only lost three times in his entire career (absolutely fucking insane if you know how Japanifornia's legal system is. Tbh, defendants are screwed in our current system.)

Successfully proven that the prosecutor committed the crime his client was accused of by checking him with a metal detector.

Claims to have a magic necklace that can let him see lies??????

Was once nearly taken out by the mafia.

Once got impersonated by a dude with a cardboard badge.

Repeatedly been assaulted by witnesses and even prosecutors? Like, one of them straight up tazed him and he was once apparently whipped unconscious in court???

Survived getting hit by a speeding car and being sent flying, falling through a burning bridge, and all the times he got assaulted.

Also, that description of his relationship with the Prosecution really doesn't do any justice. Apparently, Phoenix only started practicing law so he could meet this man in court again.

Who gave this indestructible homosexual a law degree? He clearly has too much power.

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Sold-To-Gavinners:

Actually! Phoenix Wright is a fraud who got disbarred for forging evidence! I'd really appreciate it if we stopped ignoring all the bad things he did just because he's gay.

#anti-pw #freekristoph #antijurorsystem #anti-matt engarde

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Engarde-Simp:

Of all the Gavins, why'd you decide to simp for the one whose a creepy lawyer serial killer? The other one's the one with the band ya know.

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Sold-To-Gavinners:

Your name is literally Engarde-Simp.

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Wrightworthkismesis:

Wasn't Phoenix blackmailed into that trial and that's why he lost.

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Steelsamuraiass:

Yeah, apparently Matt hired an assassin to kidnap his girlfriend or something.

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Wrightworthkismesis:

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Steelsamuraiass:

Googled it. Apparently it was his co-council. They're just friends from what I can tell.

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Wrightworthkismesis:

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Warewolf--Sex:

Got declared not guilty btw. Apparently the real killer was the Judge.

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OfficialPWPost:

Official Phoenix Wright post.

[icedragonlizard]

I might get torn apart for posting this, but imo it must be said.

To make it crystal clear, I don't excuse Susie's actions in Planet Robobot. But I don't excuse Taranza's actions in Triple Deluxe either.

I think people in the Kirby fandom infantilize Taranza way too much.

I am not joking when I say that I've seen people go as far as to say that he was "never a villain in the first place". That he's "innocent".

I'm sorry, but that's just flat out wrong. He was objectively the villain during Triple Deluxe. "He was just following orders!" is not proof of innocence when he was following the orders of a dictator. Taranza was a dictator-enabler. A dictator's right-hand man. That's not innocent. He lowkey kidnapped people in the name of this dictator.

Who knows what he could've done off-screen during the game while dragging Dedede around with him... probably could've tormented a lot of unshown Floralians while Kirby was trying to stop the takeover.

I also believe that Taranza loved playing the villain. He looks incredibly smug while dragging Dedede around and provoking bosses into fighting Kirby. Not to mention the very things that he says in his monologue right before he uses Dedede like a puppet to fight Kirby.

.... So much for the claims of "never a villain in the first place".

I very much believe he's reformed (Susie too, tbh) but I wish people would stop totally erasing his actions and pretending he did no bad.

This is not meant to demonize Taranza in any way. It's just... I absolutely hate that people treat him like a poor little innocent baby while simultaneously treating Susie like an irredeemable, unforgivable monster. They committed very similar crimes, but somehow get treated like they're opposite ends of the spectrum morality-wise.

Now, when comparing them, Susie is indeed the worse of the two overall, because her actions were done on multiple planets vs. one country. But that doesn't change the fact that it's still hypocritical to treat one of them like they're innocent while demonizing the other.

Regardless of the different scales of their crimes, they're both ultimately just second-in-commands to corrupt higher-ups that then helped give Kirby something to fight the final boss when it mattered.

I like to think that Taranza and Susie are both rather morally grey people with good and bad qualities. To me, they're friends with Kirby now, but they still have flaws despite not being as bad as they were before. I'd put Magolor on the same boat alongside with them too.

Taranza can both have grief and still have flaws. And I think Susie 100% has had grief for her dad too, even if she's less open about it.

One of the reasons why Susie discourse is so aggravating is because people simultaneously downplay and infantilize other villains, especially Taranza. People are hypocrites. I bet people wouldn't give a crap if Taranza or Magolor were to turn Meta Knight into a robot.

I get why the colonization and capitalism themes for both Susie and Planet Robobot as a whole can strike a nerve to some people and elicit discomfort, but I don't really think that warrants a massive and unfair discrepancy to how she gets treated compared to the others.

While I can get why those themes can make some people not like her as much as others, I don't think it makes it fair to treat her like an unforgivable demon because her villainy happens to be more real.

Just because the others are less real doesn't mean they're innocent.

The double standards suck.

[trippingontheescalator]

Curious about the direction the HP fandom has gone

Okay, so as an old HP fan from way back when the books were first coming out, and then getting hit with the nostalgia and decided to return after years and years of not interacting with the fandom at all, the changes are truly mindboggling and I'd love to get to the bottom of some things.

Like, the disappearance of Blaise Zabini. Blaise was a fan favorite way back when we only knew his name but now I barely hear a whisper of his name. Now, the obvious answer is racism, which I think is the #1 reason why Blaise-pairings have dropped of significantly. Back then we all thought Blaise was a hot Italian girl, and then we found out he's a black man and suddenly people stop writing about him? Hm, yeah, seems the obvious answer (especially considering the popularity of other characters who are just a name on a page *cough*regulusblack*cough*).

Or the rise in Snape-hate. Like, Snape used to be the fan favorite. Everyone loved Snape. The meaner he was, the more we liked him. Being mean to children was a plus, not a negative lol. And this was back when we all thought he was a pureblood who came from a wealthy family like the Malfoys. Now by the time the 7th book came out I had pretty much moved on and so I didn't really see the fallout of readers discovering his actual background, so I don't know if his drop in popularity is classism and learning that he isn't a palette-swapped Lucius Malfoy or not, but honestly I would figure his impoverished background would be a plus in these times. Like Snape is obviously one of JKR's least favorite characters, and considering how she-who-must-not-be-named has destroyed her reputation with her increasing radicalization you'd figure the poor, abused, author-hating character would become more beloved instead of the rich, white, heteronormative bullies who barely even show up in the books. Like with our increasing knowledge of social injustice, I just don't understand why the fandom would want to latch onto the Marauders? And I just can't believe Snape's handful of snippets with Lily is the cause of his downfall (like what's there is barely enough to fill up a few pages, and there are certainly more toxic relationships in the series that are still beloved), or the fact that he was a Death Eater or that he inadvertently caused the deaths of the Potters (we already knew that in GoF and HPB respectively and he was still beloved, and this was when we assumed he didn't give a shit about the Potters or if they died when he went snitching). Draco is still popular. DRACO who doesn't give two shits about slinging around the word "mudblood," as opposed to Snape who actually changed for the better.

Am I just too old to understand? Is this like 90s fashion coming back in style (no, I won't do it again, I don't care if it's cringy I'm sticking with my millennial styles, I did the platforms and the slip dresses and the cargo pants in high school and I'm not putting myself through that again lol you gen z's can pry my comfortable mom jeans from my cold, dead fingers, I don't care if it makes me look old, that's the point, I AM old). Like, in addition to 90s fashion, has the 90s obsession with luxury athletic fashion like Lacoste come back in style? All those fashion ads of rich white people on yachts with popped collar polos? Are people starting to obsess over the Marauders because nouveau riche conspicuous consumption is coming back in style? It can't all just be young kids who have only read AtYD and have never actually opened one of the books, can it?

There also seems to be a trend of treating characters as if they're real people. I mean, we've always done it (Snape Wives, I'm looking at you), but now it almost feels as if the crimes characters commit are treated as if they're real crimes and that liking them is somehow a moral failing on the reader's fault. If you were to say "I don't like Snape, his douchy actions anger me, I'd rather skip all the parts he shows up in" I'd say, cool, I get that. That's normal. But "Snape is an abuser, a racist, and an incel and if you like him you're probably those things too" is fucking weird. Like, Harry and Hermione are not real children. Snape is not a real person. The things that happen in this book have as much influence on the real world as me imagining ninjas breaking into my workplace on a slow day. And that "media does not exist in a vacuum" pisses me off because it's blatantly misused. The pieces of media that have had serious consequences? Jaws, The Birth of a Nation. One resulted in the culling of sharks, the other helped restart the KKK. Do you know what those two pieces of media have in common? They're not about fucking wizards and magic schools. They instead paint a target on real groups. After twenty years nobody has ever tried to hurt a marginalized group of people because of a harry potter book (except for JKR herself).

Anyway, these are just some random thoughts, feel free to chime in with your own.

[shiny-jr]

I'd love to hear more about the mcs for Damnation

So the only other MC's I can really talk about are from Scarabia and Pomefiore, since Ignihyde and Diasomnia are currently still in the works.

Vassal!MC. This, like King!MC, I had a lot of references for and I knew what I wanted from the very start. I wish I could've executed it better, but I digress. Like some of the other MCs, I had a lot of good references to refer to, such as the original animated film which I took for personality, some live-action scenes inspired certain scenes I wrote, and the voice actor was a great comedian who I enjoyed watching. Out of all the MC's, I had the most material to work with here. I wanted someone annoying, wretched, that would not be intimated so easily and could stand Jamil's harshness. One scene I looked to often but unfortunately didn't get to inspire a written part off of, was this one, which showcases the friendliness Jamil would have with MC as they plot.

Retainer!MC. Another MC I had a lot of creative freedom with. However, I think this one I did much better on, when compared to Diviner!MC. At first I was uncertain about basing the role off the raven, purely because the raven played such an insignificant role in the original animated film. However, I watched a video that pointed out that the raven was the sole being the Queen talked to a lot, especially when brewing the poisoned apple. Almost treating it like a confidant. So, I decided to implement that idea, by making MC a trusted figure close to Vil. Further expanding the plot by including the crimes Vil has committed just to make sure Neige never gets the crown, helped to cement this role into something solid and unique. I'm really glad I went this route, because for a very very brief time, I considered another huntsman like Rook, but ultimately I scrapped the idea because one huntsman was enough.

[fatecantstopme]

I Can't Walk Away

Pairing: Nick Amaro x plus size!reader

Summary: When you and your boyfriend break up, you're faced with the seemingly impossible task of putting yourself back together. Luckily for you, your very handsome coworker is more than happy to help along the way.

Warnings: Body image issues, low self-esteem, mentions of toxic/abusive relationships, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, light dom/sub vibes, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V).

A/N: This was entirely self-indulgent and I have no regrets.

Spanish Translations:

Querida: sweetheart/darling

Hermosa: beautiful

Mierda: shit

Por favor: please

Si: yes

All other translations will be after the sentence in brackets/italics.

You dropped onto Olivia's couch with a huff, tears still threatening to break through your stubborn facade.

"Are we gonna talk about it or do I need to have someone beat him up?" Liv asked you, a small smirk gracing her face.

"As much as I'd love to see his ass get handed to him, I think we should avoid committing any crimes," you said lightly.

Olivia sighed softly and reached over to put her arm around you. You leaned into her shoulder and began to let your guard drop. Olivia had been your best friend for over a decade now, your time working together in SVU having brought you closer than you could have imagined.

"He was an asshole, (Y/N/N)," she said softly. "You deserve better."

"You say that, but I guess I just don't believe it," you muttered.

It nearly broke her heart to hear you speak so negatively of yourself, but she knew no matter how many uplifting words she spoke, you would still refuse to believe her.

"Maybe there's something wrong with me," you whispered, tears finally beginning to fall. "Maybe I'm broken--unloveable."

"Hey," she chided. "You are so many things, (Y/N), but broken and unloveable are not among them."

She tightened her grip on you, pulling you into a proper side hug. She let you cry into her shoulder, her own heart breaking along with yours.

You knew, objectively, she was right--your now-ex was indeed an asshole. He'd never treated you well and had often put you down and made you feel terrible about yourself. Your self-esteem had been lower than usual when you met him and in the 6 months you'd been together, he'd managed to destroy whatever vestige of self-love you had left.

There wasn't a single thing about you he didn't belittle. Whether it was your physical appearance, your career, your hobbies, your dreams...he made you feel like everything you ever did was a mistake. In his estimation, you were too fat, unintelligent, boring...and your choice in career was just about the worst thing you could do.

You'd made it your mission in life to help the victims of particularly heinous crimes, which is why you'd been working at SVU for almost 12 years. You were the squad's forensic psychologist, and you loved your work. In many respects, it was the one thing that really brought joy to your life. It was your greatest passion--and the amount of time you spent at work certainly showed it.

Yet during those 6 months with him...your love for the job had begun to wane. Every time you'd stay late or have to cancel a date, he'd berate you for it--mocking your job and your inability to 'be a real person'. Now that you'd finally taken the leap and broken up with him, you were hopeful you could fall back in love with your work.

In this moment, however, all you could think about were the horrible things he'd said to you when you told him you wanted to break up. He'd been especially cruel, calling out every physical insecurity you had and making you feel like an absolute pile of human garbage. He'd called you fat, ugly, unloveable, gross...and a million other things you couldn't bear to repeat.

You weren't thin--you knew that, but you weren't gross. That was just offensive. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first ex to make comments about your weight--something you'd been struggling with for most of your adult life. The words had hit you harder than you'd expected, making you actually think he might be right...maybe you were the problem.

Olivia's voice broke you out of your thoughts, "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

You just nodded, not trusting your voice to answer her properly.

She squeezed you a little tighter, her reassuring presence grounding you in ways you desperately needed. You were always thankful for her friendship, but it was moments like this where you were reminded how much she really meant to you.

**********

You'd spent most of the weekend at Olivia's and by the time Monday rolled around, you were feeling a little bit better. She always knew what to do and say to make everything okay. It was a gift you'd always envied and appreciated.

It was very typical of you to be the first person in the office, having been an early riser most of your life. So you were more than a little surprised when you walked into the precinct Monday morning and spotted Nick Amaro sitting at his desk.

"You're in early," you commented lightly in lieu of greeting.

He turned his gaze to look over at you and shot you a disarming smile. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well get a head start on some paperwork I've been putting off."

"Wise man. Wouldn't want to upset the boss."

He grinned. "She's strict." His voice was teasing and warm and it made you feel something in your gut you always tried to ignore.

In truth, you were extremely attracted to Nick--it was undeniable. You had not, nor would you ever, tell him or act on it. Nick was so far out of your league it wasn't even funny. Besides, he was newly single, still fresh from his divorce.

"She can be calmed with good coffee and blueberry muffins," you said conspiratorially.

Nick chuckled. "I'm gonna have to write that down."

You offered him a smile before continuing past him to your office. You were surprised when his voice stopped you after a few steps.

"How was your weekend?"

You turned back to face him. "Friday was absolute shit," you said honestly. "But I spent Saturday and part of yesterday with Liv, so it's better now."

A look of concern crossed his face. "Everything okay?"

You feigned a smile. "Everything's fine. Thanks for asking."

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at you skeptically. "Is it that guy again?"

Your cheeks darkened, embarrassed Nick even knew about your ex. "We broke up."

Nick almost looked relieved. "I would say sorry, but it wouldn't be honest. I never liked the guy--he didn't treat you right."

You were surprised he paid enough attention to the things you said to know just how badly your ex had treated you. "Oh?"

Nick stood up and took a couple steps closer to you. He was still a professional distance away, but he could speak quieter so only you could hear him.

"You deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. You're an amazing woman, (Y/N), and a good man would never treat you the way he did. He clearly didn't recognize your worth."

His words slammed into you with surprising force. "I-um-thank you," you muttered softly.

"You can thank me by dating a man who will love you the way you deserve," he said lowly. "Como una reina." [Like a queen.]

His last three words were so quiet you weren't even sure you'd heard him properly--or if you were supposed to hear them at all. You weren't fluent in Spanish by any means, but you understood the basics...enough to know he'd said something about a queen. That is, if you heard him correctly.

You were about to ask him to elaborate when Olivia came into the squad room. She sent a warm smile your way and issued greetings to both you and Nick. Her arrival broke whatever spell Nick had been under, and he went back to his desk quietly.

You went into your office, leaving the door open behind you so you could hear the goings on and the arrival of the rest of the squad. There were plenty of things for you to do, but you couldn't get Nick's words out of your head.

**********

Olivia looked up from her computer when Nick knocked on the doorframe entering her office.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked.

"Sure," she said with a smile.

He came in and quietly shut the door behind him.

"Uh-oh...closed door conversation? Everything okay?"

"With me, yes," he answered. "But I wanted to ask you something and I don't want anyone overhearing."

"Okay..."

"It's about (Y/N)."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "What about her?"

"She mentioned she'd spent the weekend with you and she and that asshole broke up."

Olivia chuckled softly, glad to hear she wasn't the only one who hated your ex.

"I know it's not really my business, but I can tell something is really upsetting her. Hell, I've noticed a change in her since the moment they started dating--and not in a good way."

"He isn't a good person," Olivia conceded.

"Tell me about it," Nick muttered. "Anyway, I just--well, I just want to know if she's okay? I mean, really okay."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I did, but I know she wasn't being honest with me."

Olivia sighed. She had a feeling he was asking about you for a reason, but she wasn't sure it was her place to tell him the truth. She was torn between being honest with her partner and keeping her best friend's pain to herself.

"I don't know if it's my place to tell you, but he did say some particularly cruel things about her when she broke up with him."

Nick's eyes narrowed and Olivia could see the anger flare in them. "What did he say to her?" Even his voice was laced with fury--the mere idea someone would hurt you sent him off the edge.

"I can't tell you," Olivia answered. "But if you really want to know, then I think you should talk to her. She trusts you, so she may open up to you."

Nick nodded, anger still boiling beneath the surface. "You're right--I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

Olivia shook her head. "It's alright. I know you care about her...I guess I'm just a little surprised by your anger."

He winced slightly, feeling embarrassed for his display of emotion. "I don't like the idea of some guy making her feel like shit."

"Neither do I," she said honestly. "I am curious though...what made you ask about her?"

"Wha-what do you mean?"

Olivia smiled slowly. "I mean, why do you want to know badly enough to ask me?"

Nick had a feeling Olivia could see right through him--they'd been partners for a few years after all. He wasn't sure how to answer--or if he wanted to be entirely truthful. In the end, he opted for vague honesty. "I care about her."

Olivia watched his expression in silence for a long moment before responding. "So do I."

Nick could see the meaning behind her words as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud--don't hurt my friend. He didn't say it, but he hoped Olivia knew he would never hurt you...it would break his heart.

**********

"Hey (Y/N/N). You busy?"

You looked up to see Nick standing in your office doorway, leaning against the frame. You swallowed thickly as you pushed down the improper thoughts blazing through your mind at the sight.

"Uh--no. What's up?"

He stepped into the room, edging closer to your desk. "I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight. My treat."

You raised your eyebrows at him, unsure of the cause of his request. "Is there some sort of celebration I'm unaware of?"

He chuckled lightly. "Other than your new-found freedom, no. I just...well, I wanted to spend a little time with you. Ya know, if you want."

You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated his offer. "Well, I don't have any other plans, so why not?"

He grinned. "Excellent. Do you want time to go home first or just leave from here?"

You looked down at your outfit, suddenly feeling very frumpy and unattractive. You knew he wasn't asking you out on a date--just a friend inviting you to dinner to cheer you up. Even still, you really didn't want to go out looking like this. "Do you mind if I go home and change first?"

"Not at all. I can pick you up from your place, if you'd like?"

"Oh, uh-yeah. Sure."

He smiled again. "Perfect. 6:30?"

You nodded. "Sounds good."

You watched him walk out of your office, mind racing as you tried to figure out his motivations and what the hell you were gonna wear.

**********

By the time 6pm rolled around, you'd managed to change your clothes somewhere in the realm of 50 times, and you still weren't entirely satisfied. Even your favorite outfit didn't feel right--you could hear your ex's voice in the back of your mind telling you everything you tried on looked bad.

You dug further into your closet, looking for something simple--cover the things you wanna hide and accentuate the things you wanna show off. Your eyes fell on a beautiful black dress you'd actually never worn. You'd purchased it on a whim because you'd loved it in the store and Olivia had insisted it was too perfect to pass up on.

You pulled the dress off the hanger and put it on, pleased it still fit properly. When you turned to look in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize yourself--you actually felt pretty. The bodice of the dress was tight, but the lower half was flowy. The material was a soft, stretch satin, with a low neckline and flutter sleeves. The dress hit right above your knees and it practically screamed for a pair of heels.

You found your favorite black pumps, slipping them on and smiling at your reflection. You put on some jewelry to spice up the look, sprayed your favorite perfume, and double checked your hair and makeup one last time. You didn't wear much makeup on the daily, so you didn't go too wild with your makeup for the evening. You'd added some eyeliner and lipstick, but otherwise you looked natural. You'd actually been having a good hair day already, so you were pleased to see it was still behaving properly.

You'd just put the last finishing touches on the outfit when you heard the buzzer ring. You quickly went to answer it, and upon hearing Nick's voice, told him you'd be right down.

You took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs feeling both excited and trepidatious. You reminded yourself once again this was just two friends having dinner--purely platonic...but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't want it to be an actual date.

Nick was waiting just outside the front entrance to your apartment building, and he turned around when he heard the door open. Nothing could have prepared you for the look on his face when he saw you.

"Santa mierda," he breathed. "You look incredible." [Holy shit.]

You blushed and looked away. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

He stepped towards you and gently touched your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. "You're very welcome."

He dropped his hand, but his eyes stayed fixed on your face for a long moment. "Do you like Italian?" he asked.

"Of course," you answered, silently pleased your voice sounded normal.

"Excellent." He gestured towards his car and you followed behind him. He opened the passenger door and helped you in before getting in the driver's seat.

The drive wasn't very long, and your nerves kept you quiet for most of the ride. You listened to him chatter on about nothing, simply enjoying the sound of his voice.

When you arrived at the restaurant, he once again opened your door and helped you out, but this time his hand didn't leave yours. He placed your hand through the loop he'd made with his arm and guided you to the entrance.

Once you were seated, your nerves began to ratchet up even higher. Unfortunately for you, Nick was both an extremely good detective and an annoyingly perceptive person. As such, he noticed your discomfort immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you lied.

"It's just me, (Y/N/N)," he said quietly.

You exhaled slowly--realizing he was right. It was Nick for God's sake. He was your colleague, your friend. There was no reason to be nervous. "You're right."

He smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. He pulled it back to his side of the table as the server arrived for your drink order.

You were grateful for the glass of wine he delivered moments later, lifting it to your lips almost immediately. You knew the liquid would calm your nerves--maybe then you wouldn't embarrass yourself.

"I'm glad you agreed to have dinner with me," Nick said softly as he sipped his own glass of wine.

"I was a little surprised, in all honesty."

"That I asked or that you agreed?" he teased lightly.

You smiled. "Definitely the former."

"I hate seeing you upset," he admitted. "I thought I might be able to cheer you up a little."

"Thanks, Nick. You're a good friend."

His face fell slightly, but he quickly hid it behind a soft smile. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Whatever he was going to ask was cut off by the arrival of the server to take your food order.

As soon as the server left the table, Nick leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What did he say to you that hurt you so much?"

"What?"

"Your ex."

Your expression shifted and you looked down at the table. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because whatever he said hurt you--and I'm willing to bet my career that he was wrong."

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his. His expression was deadly serious, yet it somehow put you at ease in a way only Nick could. "He said some unpleasant things about my physical appearance that I could have lived without hearing."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Unpleasant things about your appearance? I'll bet my life he was wrong."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I wouldn't make that bet, Nick."

"I'm confident. Tell me what he said and I'll judge for myself."

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before giving him a quick overview. "Essentially he said I'm unattractive and fat--I recall the word 'gross' being used as well."

Nick's temper flared instantly, the urge to punch that son of a bitch in the face nearly overwhelming. "He said what?"

Even if you didn't know Nick, you would have been able to see the rage simmering in his eyes, hear it in his tone. "It's not a big deal."

"If he was here, I'd launch him through a window. Bastard."

"I'm okay," you reassured him quietly.

Your soft voice grounded him, as it so often did, and he felt his anger dissipating. He was still angry, but the urge to hunt that asshole down had begun to fade.

"He was wrong, you know."

"Huh?"

"He was wrong. Not only are you one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on, but your body is perfectly proportioned--deliciously soft and curvy. You're about as far from gross as a human being can be."

He spoke with such conviction, such assuredness, that you almost believed him--almost.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Nick, you've never seen me naked...your opinion would change, trust me."

Nick's eyes flared with a new kind of intensity. "I highly doubt that."

"His did," you said quietly.

"He clearly didn't know what he had."

Your eyes met his, shoulders tense, discomfort obvious in every movement you made.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). I'll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me--I think you're gorgeous. Stunning. Elegante. Sin fin perfecta." [Elegant. Endlessly perfect.] He reached for your hand and you let him take it in his. "You are a prize, (Y/N). Any man worth a damn would be honored to call you his."

You didn't know what to say. His words surprised you and warmed your soul at the same time. You could also feel the familiar tightening in your gut, accompanied by an entire swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Forget every terrible thing he ever said to you, hermosa. Let me fill your mind with praise. Let me remind you of your beauty, inside and out, of your brilliance, of your kindness, your empathy...of all the little things that make you the incredible woman you are."

"Nick..." you whispered, his name the only coherent thing you were able to utter.

The moment was shattered by the arrival of your food. You'd been hungry when you sat down at the table, but your body was now flooded with a very different kind of hunger--a hunger you now believed Nick shared.

"Thank you, Nick," you said softly. "I know it's not nearly enough, but thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I meant every word."

You gave him a small smile. "Still..."

He returned the expression.

The two of you ate in silence for several minutes, minds clearly elsewhere. After a while, Nick noticed you'd done more moving the food around the plate than actually eating and he called you out on it.

"Eat your food, querida. You'll need your strength."

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his gaze. "For what?"

He leaned forward. "If you'll let me, I'm going to spend several hours showing you exactly how sexy I think you are."

You gulped. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

He grinned wolfishly. "By worshipping that amazing body of yours...over and over again, until you're screaming my name."

You suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, let alone eat. Nick, on the other hand, went right back to eating his food as if he hadn't just threatened you with an incredibly good time.

You had to force yourself to focus on your food, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

As soon as the meal was over, Nick asked for the check and paid, revealing just how desperate he was to get back to your place.

Once again, he helped you into the car, only this time his hand lingered on the small of your back.

Anticipation flooded through you as Nick drove through the streets of the city. You'd wanted him for so long--never once thinking he'd reciprocate the desire. Despite his words earlier in the evening, you still felt a shred of self-doubt...worrying he might not find you as attractive once you were naked.

"Where's that pretty head at, querida?" he asked softly, noticing your anxiety.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course."

"If you don't want to go through with this...you know, when you see me without my clothes on...please just tell me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do something you don't wanna do."

He reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. "I don't have to promise that because I know what I want, (Y/N)...and that's you. You could be a alien underneath those clothes and I'd still want you."

You laughed lightly. "I promise I'm not an alien."

He grinned. "Then we're gonna be just fine, baby."

You closed your eyes, silently willing yourself to believe him. You trusted him with your life--something you'd never experienced with any of your past relationships. Every fiber of your being told you Nick would never hurt you on purpose--never. You just needed to trust him--let go of your pain and give in to your desires.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, Nick gave you a gentle reminder. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, (Y/N)."

"I want to," you whispered.

He inhaled slowly and took a step towards you. "Say 'no' or 'stop' and I'll stop immediately, okay? No hard feelings--I won't push you."

"I don't want to say no, Nick."

He took another step towards you, effectively backing you against the wall. "If you wanna stop--"

"Nick, please just kiss me," you begged softly.

He groaned softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours. His kiss was like fire and ice--more addictive than any drug known to man. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe--like he would rather suffocate to death than stop.

He pressed his warm body against yours, wedging his knee between your thighs to keep you from squeezing them together. His tongue tangled with yours, quickly asserting dominance as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands went to the buttons on his white button down, quickly undoing them in a desperate need to feel his skin. He helped you remove the shirt, followed by his undershirt, leaving his toned chest bare for you to see.

You bit your lip and stifled a soft groan as you appreciated his form.

"You can touch me, querida," he said softly. "I wanna feel your soft hands on my skin."

You did as he asked, hands gliding over his smooth, tan skin. He sighed softly and leaned into your touch, lips grazing your jaw affectionately.

Your hands traveled to his hips and you began to loosen his belt. He allowed you to unbutton his pants and he helped you remove them.

"I think you're a bit overdressed for the occasion, hermosa," he teased huskily.

You tensed slightly, a feeling of dread washing over you.

Of course, Nick felt it and instantly began to sooth your worries. "You can keep on as much as you want, querida, but I want to see you. I've wanted to touch you like this since the day I met you. But if you're more comfortable keeping your clothes on, that's alright."

You looked up at him, his dark eyes warm and honest. You took a deep breath and pushed him back slightly, giving yourself the room to pull your dress off over your head.

You dropped your dress to the ground, but your eyes didn't meet his gaze--you couldn't even bring yourself to look at his face, too afraid of what you might see there.

"Querida, por favor," Nick whispered. "Look at me."

You looked up at him slowly, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you took in his hungry expression.

"I wanna kiss every square inch of your beautiful body, hermosa. Will you let me?"

You nodded tentatively.

"I need to hear you say it, baby," he pleaded.

"I want you Nick, please."

He groaned and pressed his body against yours again. "Say that again, querida."

"I want you," you whispered.

"Fuck--" He slammed his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth almost immediately. You melted in his arms, reveling in the feeling of his body against yours.

He finally pulled away to catch his breath, but his hands didn't leave your body. Now that he'd touched you so intimately, he never wanted to stop.

"Come with me," he whispered, before guiding you to your bedroom. "Lay down on the bed for me, querida."

You did as he asked, noticing how his eyes never left your body.

He made sure you were looking at him before he began to lower his boxer briefs, slowly revealing his large cock. He was already painfully hard, a bead of precum lingering at the tip.

You licked your lips in anticipation, an action he noticed with pride.

"Like what you see, hermosa?"

"Very much so."

He smiled and climbed onto the bed, covering your soft body with his hard one. "May I take off your bra?"

You nodded.

"Baby..." he said in a clear warning tone.

You understood his meaning instantly, a flood of arousal going straight to your core at the order. "Yes, papi."

His eyes widened for a moment, surprised and pleased at your use of the title. "Such a good girl, aren't you?"

A soft moan left your lips at the praise and he smiled to himself, pleased he was able to suss out what you liked.

His hand snaked around your back, deftly unclasping your bra with surprising ease. The moment your breasts were bared to his gaze, his mouth descended on you, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

You moaned softly, fingers intertwining into his dark locks. His lips and hands massaged your breasts, giving them equal attention. True to his word, he moved tantalizingly slowly down your body, kissing every inch of skin he could, while avoiding where you needed him most.

By the time he made his way back up to your face, you were begging him to touch your pussy--pleading for some relief.

"Nick, please--I need you."

"What did you call me?" he asked harshly.

Your eyes widened lustfully. "I'm sorry, papi!"

He smiled, ghosting his fingers across your still-clothed pussy. "That's my good girl."

You whimpered at the feather-light touches he placed to your mound, desperate for more. "Please, papi."

"Hmm? Qué deseas?" [What do you want?]

"Please touch me," you begged.

"I am touching you, querida."

"More, papi. Please!"

He smiled. "Normally I'd take my time teasing you--making you beg for what you want...but if I'm being honest, I'm as desperate to touch you as you are to feel it, so I'll be nice to you this time."

He tugged your panties off quickly before spreading your thighs as wide as he could, revealing your dripping wet folds.

"All this for me, baby?" he growled.

"Only you, papi," you responded.

"Yeah? No one else makes you this wet?"

You shook your head vehemently. "No one else."

"Now I have one rule, hermosa. I wanna hear you--every little sound coming out of that pretty mouth. Be as loud as you want. Entiendes?" [Understand?]

"Si, papi," you whimpered.

He smirked as he lowered himself down onto the bed between your legs. His strong hands gripped your hips and he tugged you as close to his face as he could before diving into your pussy with a deep groan of pleasure.

You gasped at the sensation, the sound quickly becoming moans of enjoyment. Nick was quite skilled with his mouth--his tongue alone made you feel things you'd never before experienced.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the roots as you desperately sought your release.

Nick held you in place as he continued his assault on your pussy, ensuring he had complete control over your pleasure.

"Feels so good," you gasped. "Gonna cum, papi."

He groaned against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He could feel how close you were by the way your thighs tried to close and your grip on his hair tightened.

Your moans became more desperate--needy, and he slid two fingers into your pussy, gently pressing into your g-spot rapidly.

You cried out, legs shaking slightly, seconds before your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. His name left your lips in a gasped scream as he worked you through your high, only stopping when you began to squirm away.

You were completely breathless when he lifted his head, mouth and chin soaked in your juices. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth on his hand, licking it clean as he maintained eye contact with you. "You taste so good baby...I can't get enough."

You reached for him and he obliged, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, a soft sound of pleasure escaping into his mouth.

"Querida," he whispered against your lips. "I need to be inside you."

"Please," you whimpered.

"Do you have protection?"

"I'm on the pill..."

"I'm clean," he assured you.

"Me too."

He lined his cock up with your entrance and looked back up at your face. "Are you sure, hermosa?"

"Si papi. I want you to fuck me."

He groaned softly before thrusting into you, sheathing himself fully inside of you in one swift movement.

You cried out, the stretch both overwhelming and extremely pleasurable all at once. You clutched his neck and he breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.

"You can move," you whispered.

"Not yet, querida. I need a moment."

"Are you okay?" you asked in concern.

"Your pussy feels so damn incredible, baby...I'm just trying to control myself so I don't hurt you."

You bit your lip and lifted his face up to look at you. "I like a little bit of pain, papi." You clenched your pussy tightly for emphasis.

"Mierda," he ground out. "You sure?"

"Fuck me senseless, Nick. Por favor."

As much as he loved you calling him 'papi', hearing you say his name like that made him feral. He pulled out and thrust back in harshly, starting a fast, hard pace.

"Baby, say my name again," he begged.

"Nick," you moaned lowly.

"Fuck." He was fucking you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do and you'd never experienced anything like it.

You felt the coil tightening in your abdomen, and for the first time in your life, you knew you were going to cum during penetration. Your moans were loud enough to wake the neighbors, your nails dug into his muscular back, and your pussy had his cock in a vice grip.

"You gonna cum for me, (Y/N)?"

You nodded rapidly, unable to voice a response. The only thing coming out of your mouth was a string of incoherent moans and pleas.

"I wanna feel you cum, baby. Cubre mi polla." [Coat my cock.]

"Nick!" you whined.

"What do you need, querida? Tell me."

"More," you whimpered.

He slipped his hand between your bodies and began to gently massage your clit. "This what you need, baby?"

"Nick!" you screamed. "Don't stop!"

"That's it, baby. That's it. I've got you. Cum for me, querida. Ven por mí." [Come for me.]

You cried out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure overwhelmed your senses. You clung to him desperately, as if he was a life raft while you were adrift in the ocean.

He began to chase his own high as you came down, your awareness coming back to you. His thrusts were fast and rough, his breathing ragged.

"I want you to cum for me, papi. Fill me up," you begged.

"Dios mio! You feel so good, baby. Wanna cum for you."

You clenched your pussy as tightly as you could, desperate for him to enjoy this as much as you did.

"(Y/N)!" he cried out as he came, his hot seed filling you up.

His thrusts slowed and faltered before he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and satiated.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as he caught his breath. You were a little worried he would regret this now that it was over, but your fears were assuaged the moment he lifted his head to look at you.

His beautiful brown eyes were warm and loving as he gazed at you, happiness and contentment clear in his expression. "That was incredible," he murmured softly.

You blushed slightly. "You were incredible."

"As were you, querida."

He pressed his lips to yours as he pulled himself up. He rolled onto his side and pulled you with him, so your head rested against his chest.

"I'm thinking we take a power nap, then we go for round two," Nick said softly.

"Round two?!"

He grinned. "I did promise you I was gonna worship this sexy body of yours for hours."

"I didn't think you were serious, Nick," you said with a chuckle.

"Oh, baby, I'm always serious about worshipping you. I think you'll learn that very quickly."

You smiled and kissed his chest softly. You debated whether you wanted to voice the question that popped into your head, but once again, Nick beat you to it.

"You know this isn't a one time thing, right?" Nick asked gently. "I mean, unless you want it to be."

You looked up at him, expression soft and affectionate. "I was actually just going to ask you that."

He grinned. "So...you saying you might wanna see me again?"

"I see you every day, Nick," you teased.

"I mean like this, hermosa. Naked in your bed, making you scream my name, giving you as much pleasure as your pretty little body will take."

Your breath hitched in your chest, giving away just how badly you wanted that. "That too."

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "If I'm lucky, you'll let me take you out more too. Dinner, dancing, walks in the park, musicals...whatever you want. Wherever you go, I want to be there too."

Your eyes widened in surprise and tears filled them. You'd never had someone speak to you the way Nick did, let alone want to be with you in the way he just described.

"Querida," he whispered as he wiped your eyes. "Don't cry."

"Tears of joy," you assured him. "I promise."

His expression warmed, filling with the love and admiration he clearly felt for you. "So you'll be mine then? Exclusively?"

Your lips parted and you smiled. "I would love that."

He smiled back. "Thank god...because whether you knew it or not, I've been yours exclusively for the past year."

"What?"

He blushed slightly. "I...well I've wanted to be with you since my marriage fell apart, but I didn't want you to think you were some kind of rebound, so I kept myself professional. It's gotten harder and harder to do and then seeing you dating someone who treated you so terribly knowing full-well I would die for you made it nearly impossible."

"I didn't know," you whispered.

"I went to great lengths to make sure of that," Nick said softly. "But now that I have you? Now that I know what it's like to touch you, hold you, kiss you, make love to you? Baby, I can't walk away. You're stuck with me."

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, straddling his strong body. You leaned down to kiss him softly, pouring all of your emotion into the kiss. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck with, Nick Amaro," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. He was determined to spend every minute of the rest of his life making sure you knew how incredible you were, how much he appreciated you, and how madly in love with you he would always be.

[loquaciousquark]

My dog is getting old. This has happened to everyone in the history of the world who has ever loved a dog.

It's my turn, horologically speaking, to watch age catch up to him. I keep trying on the grief to see how it fits. Today I'm more sanguine; today I'm remembering the good days and the good years. The lump in the throat still hurts.

It's hard for him to stand up now on the bad days. Especially in the evenings, especially when a few hours ago he'd flung himself wall to wall with joy when I got home from work; and especially first thing in the morning when he wakes stiff as a board in the hips. On the good days he can still take the four stairs up to the living room in one light-speed jump when he's on a tear, though he trusts the kitchen linoleum much less than he used to. Today's a bad day. Yesterday was worse.

There's a faint discolored patch on my quilt where he sleeps. Right side, foot. It took half a decade to show up, and every few months I give it an extra soak in a bleach-filled bathtub. It still never really goes away; besides, he puts it right back on. Not tonight, though. Tonight he sleeps in the front room, because the stairs up to me are too hard. He watched me go up tonight without him and his tail drooped so low it touched the floor. He's only been mine eight of his eleven years, but I was there when he came home the first time, when he was exactly eight weeks old. I held him up in one hand like a waiter's tray and it was easy. He's ninety pounds now and I can't help him much at all.

German Shepherds are prone to hip dysplasia. Half-breed, half-hipped, I'd hoped, but on the bad nights he struggles to get up on those back legs like he's heaving ballast off a sinking ship. The husky part of him just seems to make him shed and yell, especially when I'm late getting home. I'd hoped for a little more time from the mix, maybe. But maybe not.

He's finally gotten used to fireworks. Thunder's mostly all right now, unless it's very bad. The washing machine is a new terror; sometimes I forget until it goes into the spin cycle and he lifts my legs off the ground trying to crawl under me. He eats books when he's anxious, when I've committed the temerarious crime of coming home and leaving again in the same day. Cold Mountain is nothing more than shredded cardboard and a few strung-together chapters, a sacrificial lamb to preserve Catherine, Called Birdy and Holes. The Private Patient died years ago.

He didn't want to come indoors tonight. The dryer was going, almost as bad as the washing machine, and there were stairs between him and bed. He let me coax him in at last, because I can't lift him and can't push him, and he made it clear that when he stiff-leg trotted inside he did so because he loved me, not because he wanted to. I sat with him while he found an acceptable patch of rug in the front room; I cooed and petted him and gave him a treat he didn't earn. He still whined when I left and looked like he wanted to get up, but didn't think he could make it.

He's getting old; it's his turn. His muzzle is turning white and his eyes have gone cloudy with cataracts. 2+ nuclear sclerosis, maybe -- probably all a little blurry, that's all. No PSCs, no cortical spoking; central vision's honestly probably fine. The vet keeps saying dogs adapt well. He can certainly see the stray cat who keeps lurking on my front porch. I'd like them to be friends, but a week ago he got out and chased her off like a bullet from a gun. His hips were good that day, and adrenaline covers a multitude of sins.

I have a picture of the first time we took him to get a Christmas tree. He's sitting and looking up and his head isn't even high to my knee. I remember watching him tear around the dog park lap after lap after lap, the single mixed greyhound out of fifteen or twenty dogs the only one who could keep up with him. I have pictures of him at the end of nearly every lecture I give; lately I've been tripping over them like rocks, stony little griefs worked loose from a streambed when the water moves too fast.

I'm thirty-five years old. I keep thinking that every dog who was alive on the planet when I was born is dead. Most are long dead. My dog has meds to help, which is comforting. I have a vet who will help me put him to sleep in my home, his home, when the time comes. Two to four years, she guesses, maybe, if he doesn't get cancer. When I watch him struggle to stand up I wonder if that's not too long for kindness.

It's a very human thing to miss someone before they die. Dogs don't do that. They live in an endless now, like a kid in a yellow summer. Now, I love you. Now, it hurts -- now it stops. Now, I love you.

I want that for us for what's left, for whatever one two three four years we have. When it happens, I want him to die in no pain, looking at me holding him where all his toys are, his favorite rope, his purple pig, his leash, his tennis balls. I want him thinking nothing but Now, I'm tired; now, I'm happy.

The empty place at the foot of the bed hurts tonight. The grief stings and bites, worse because I know I'm borrowing it ahead of time, because he's asleep fifteen feet below me, warm and full, even if tonight's a bad night and the stairs are too hard. I have to sit in it, though, just for a few minutes. Try it on for size. It's his turn, I keep thinking, and mine. Everyone who has ever loved a dog has done this before me. Now, I love you. Now, I miss you. Now, it hurts.

[p1nk-matter]

(hxh) PHANTOM TROUPE // KURTA CLAN theory

...debunking PT did it

So let me preface this by saying this was 100% inspired by a tiktok comment in a hxh phantom troupe's religious symbolism video back in 2021 (:/). The person who commented made such an impact I screenshotted their comments which unfortunately are not in correct order and messaged them this year (i just know they think im weird) but they never responded. I'd give their @ but its their government name (I take it) so msg me for deets. All credit goes to them as I'm just polishing and tidying these thoughts.

First op talks about Meteor City, a junkyard city inhabited by outcasts. People who live there do not exist on any official records and are treated horribly from the outside, people are taken from Meteor City for crimes, prostitution, slavery and no one's doing a thing to stop it. People go outside and face racism, like the one guy accused of a crime he didnt commit and when the truth is shown no one does anything (think op meant The Bum Incident, vol 11, Chapter 102). These people get no justice, they're just used and this is where the duality of Chrollo comes in, he is a demon to the outside world because he is challenging the gods but also a Jesus figure for the underprivileged Meteor City. Even his reverse St Peters Cross on his jacket means that he feels unworthy to be crucified in the same manner as Jesus. Thats his way of saying he doesnt see himself as worthy of savior. His priority is the Troupe so they can together be seen to the outside world, they are literally a troupe of phantoms, trying to be recognized. This is why when he asks Neon if she believes in ghosts and she says no, she is the oppressor that doesn't understand the one hurt.

If you read the story with this idea in mind you start to observe that the Troupe only attacks people hazardous for the City (mafia, ants) or when they want revenge for one of them killed so its weird they are presented in a positive almost heroic light. Only exception that sticks out to the story? Kurta massacre.

The og commenter wondered why it was that the Troupe was always presented in a positive light. We've known the Phantom Troupe does acts of good alongside the bad but we also haven't seen anything entirely "evil" commited by any of them yet. Most of the legends surrounding them are hearsay. And though they could have easily killed Gon and Killua, they don't, twice. Also, Uvogin when taken by mafia/Kurapika says if freed, they wouldn't hurt them as they are not the target.

Op comments on how narrative should be filtered as its being commented via Gon- a non objective source, they claim that the 1st arc feels like a kid show whereas chimera arc feels dark, thats not to say it is actually like that but as Gon's perspective changes so does the narration. At first when innocent people die, he doesnt really care but in chimera we need a narrator to explain as Gon is too biased at that point. Regarding the massacre we only have Kurapika's word but what we are being told/shown about the Troupe is different. The characters talk about the Kurta massacre, how horrible and brutal it was but the narrative is keen and favors the Troupe, it paints them in a favorable light and why should the narrative do that, they don't become better people like the Ants after all.

From the moment they appear on screen, the narrative wants us to see them as underprivileged, both in York New and in the ship, even when they're fighting in Meteor City, they're fighting for injustice or when somebody hurts them. Then why justify their actions everytime they appear on screen if they massacred the Kurta Clan? If they are responsible for this why make them the underprivileged representation? Both Kurta and Troupe says the op are ostracized by the outside and seen less from people.

Say they did it. 3 ideas were proposed as to why.

1. for the eyes (Chrollo likes the eyes, like Hisoka said but Hisoka is a liar and also Chrollo has never shown interest in the show for them. For someone who steals things he likes, why make an exception and murder here?)

2. for money (that's not correct, we are told multiple times they don't care about it, neither money nor fame, they want to be recognized by the world but how would that work by killing a clan that's been hidden for 100 years, they dont get anything out of it.)

3. for revenge: Revenge for what? Kurta are a peaceful clan that hide for years. We know the Troupe left a note that is the motto of Meteor City (I'm adding here what op referred to: "we reject no one so take nothing from us"). Op says note means they serve justice to their city, when someone takes things away from them so what did Kurta take? From the thematic and narrative point they are not set up to have done it, op thinks thats 100% intentional.

Like said above, BOTH have the thematic of oppression from the outside world, they are a commodity for the rich and powerful (gods) but why is Phantom Troupe put in the light of both, the oppressor and the oppressed? Why would an oppressed group oppress another one for NO good reason? The Troupe doesn't kill innocent people if not necessary, they do NOT care about money or fame and the revenge aspect doesnt work because the Kurta were isolated from the outside.

If we look back at the York New Arc they never state the massacre, they simply suggest it and of course from a Kurapika POV they are guilty but if you look again you have to ask..are they really?

☆

this took ages for me to coherently formulate and ik it goes back and forth but bless op's heart because it changed my perspective completely (more than any yt analysis found online) !

[hellenhighwater]

you seem to have had great success with training your cats, so I would like to ask a bit of advice. I’ve had my baby since the end of January, she’s about a year ish old, and I love her very much! I do not know how to train cats. I have never HAD a cat before. Other than committing occasional minor crimes she is very well behaved, but she Will Not Sit On Laps. She usually won’t even sit next to laps! Is there any good ways to persuade her that my thighs are in fact not going to bite and that if she deigns to sit/lie down she will get much love and attention (which she adores and purrs like crazy for)?

Some cats just aren't lap cats, and that's fine. It's a big ask! You want them to put their whole body belly-first onto an unstable, slightly moving surface that is a part of another animal (who they know it would be rude to hurt) who could easily trap them in that position. That's wild! If a polar bear wanted me to sit in its lap, I'd have to think real hard about how much I trusted that bear!

But there are things you can do to encourage lap sitting. For one, cats don't always grasp that your body is still attached to you when it's under a blanket. A big blanket, thrown over a lap and the surrounding couch, is more approachable than a lap alone. (And start with a sofa or sitting on the ground; you want an open, easy-to-escape-from lap, not something enclosed like a chair.) Have treats ready! Once she's on the lap, pet her in the way she likes and give lots of rewards.

But the first foundation is trust and communication, of course, so you need to be sure that you're building that. Watch the way she reacts to things, and respect what she doesn't like. Never trap her on your lap if she's ready to leave. Start slow. Reward often. Sit near where she is, pet a bit, and inch closer until she tells you you're close enough.

And hey, if you have a cat that's not a lap cat but who loves cuddles, that's a great cat.

(Here is Vice, blissfully ignorant that there are legs under the blanket.)

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Your au makes me happy. Do you have any little tidbits of information that are unlikely to be used for anything, but remain in the back of your mind regardless? Kinda like the TV preferences thing. I'd love to hear anything you're willing to share.

I’m glad you like it, this au and it’s versions of the characters are my children I love them so much!

- FazMike is able to hack into just about anything due to Freddy being connected to the internet.

- Jeremy was kicked out for being trans and was in the process of looking for a place while working at the fnaf 2 location. Freddy did a background check and then Mike invited him to live with them and Evan.

- Mike hates talking to people because he twitches and stutters due to being fused with Freddy. Freddy usually takes over and it’s very disconcerting to the person they’re talking with because they go from Mike’s strange mix of American-English accent, to Freddy’s more “customer service” way of speaking.

- It’s pretty easy to tell the two apart if you know them. Freddy still talks close to his animatronic form and is kind of a mother hen, while Mike is looser with his speech and basically a gremlin like Greg.

- Michael’s mother, Carmen, called him Miguel as a fuck you to William before she left.

- Evan’s special interest is true crime and he quickly gained the title of Gregory’s cool uncle after infodumping to the 9 year old.

- Freddy is very weirded out seeing his animatronic self when FazMike takes a job at the Pizzaplex.

- Evan’s Fredbear plush sits on his desk at his fnaf 1 job, the rest of the time it sits on his bed.

- Evan used the name Mike Schmidt for his job and Mike isn’t sure wether he should feel honored or insulted to be used as an alias.

- Jeremy will tell increasingly strange and unbelievable stories about the scar he got from Mangle. The kids at the beach believe he wrestled a crocodile and lost.

- Mike treats Freddy like an Alexa after learning he’s connected to the internet. (this one my gal thought of)

- Freddy is the actual dad while Mike is the fun dad and lets Greg get away with arson and other crimes.

- Gregory has like 4 dads. Animatronic Freddy, FazMike, and Jeremy.

- Jeremy is the only one with an actually stable job, staying away from Fazbear Entertainment. He’s Mike’s getaway driver whenever his boyfriend commits arson.

- I don’t have much on Helpy yet, but he’s definitely there, kinda like a parrot who knows advanced physics.

- Freddy made Evan a snack every night when he worked night shift.

- Mike is missing most of his internal organs after the scoop, but Ennard never used him as a meat suit because Freddy being fused with Mike confused them. Mike is not purple, but he’s got a gaping hole in his stomach for over a year while it heals up. No one actually knows how he’s alive, but they assume it’s something to do with Freddy being there.

That’s all I can think of so far but I’m sure there will be more in the future. I love these asks!

[sea-dukes-assistant]

You all had a competition to see who has the least amount of brain cells.

Is anyone shocked though?

I mean, ffs, that's the Official Sport of the Royal Fandom™. I have been indirectly involved in this circus for longer than I care to admit or remember (wish the TBI would've wiped the abuse I received from my memory!), and bore witness to things I never asked for nor ever thought I'd hear about this collection of Fancy Brits who are somehow in my life due to my impure thoughts and raging erections interest in only one of them.

At this time I would like to remind you all that throughout my time in *gestures vaguely* whatever this is that I was consistently the only one who's intelligence was routinely insulted, who was often told to, and I quote, "get your head checked," and generally treated as though I was a fucking leper and you'd catch the retarded if you interacted with me.

AND YET! Here we are once again in the midst of a mountain made out of a molehill (with respect to Kate's absence), not only with the above mentioned being the complete opposite, but also once again proving that brain cells are remiss in the fandom and we don't need to fear AI crawlers. Kate's reps said she'd be back after Easter. Ya can't fucking read, so y'all fucking sent it like "fancy lady no work! make anonymous on tumblr upset! REEEEEEE!" <- That's exactly what you sound like and you all know it.

I can't even begin to touch of the sheer amount of audacity to snoop through this woman's medical record (allegedly, as there conveniently was no source given for this information). "Obsessed" as I was called, I never committed crime over Sea Duke.

I am once again asking, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH Y'ALL?

Fuckin' ratchet ass behavior.

[daughter-of-sapph0]

The people arguing that "oh it's just a silly word don't be so mad" reminds me of the comic "Trigger Warning: Breakfast" and how even the simplest word can hold memories of trauma for someone else.

not to be too personal, but you're absolutely right. my experience isn't the same as everyone else, but I've specifically grown up and dealt with a shit ton of trauma.

I was raised and treated as a boy up until high school. but never one of "the boys". I was always an outcast. as young as first grade, I remember even the teacher saw me as something other than a boy. she said "they boys in this class are way too loud" and when I said I wasn't talking, she said "oh not you, I was referring to the Boys". the few friends I had treated me differently than the other boys at school. I was constantly told I wasn't allowed to enjoy something or participate in an activity because it wasn't for me. I was excluded by boys and girls my age.

I was called a faggot in 2nd grade. at that time I didn't even know what being gay was. it certainly wasn't talked about the same as it is today, and definitely wasn't mentioned to 8 year olds. but I remember it, as clear as day. Marcus called me a faggot because I committed the unforgivable homosexual crime of wearing velcro shoes. I didn't even know it was supposed to be bad at first. when I told a teacher "Marcus said my shoes make me a faggot. what does that mean?" they wouldn't tell me, and instead said I should learn to tie my laces.

I went to a small catholic middle school. there were 18 kids in the entirety of 6th grade. I don't know why or how, but most of them found some aspect of my personality to hate and use against me. "you like Nintendo games? you draw anime? you play with Legos? you don't like basketball? you answered a question in class too quickly? you've never had a girlfriend? your uniform is a handmedown? well then you're just a faggot. a downey (a nickname they had for people with down syndrome). a pussyboy. a cocksucker. a retard. an n word (I was white, and so was everyone else in my grade, so this one made the least sense).

I told my dad that I was being bullied because I didn't play basketball. instead of defending me, calling the school, teaching me strategies to deal with bullying, or even just showing an ounce of support... he taught me how to fight and forced me to sign up for basketball. I played basketball for all three years of middle school. jv in 6th grade, varsity in 7 and 8th. I sucked. I scored maybe 20 points in all my games throughout the entirety of three years. I was the shortest player, not athletic at all, had terrible hand-eye coordination, and just outright sucked. I wanted to quit every single day. I skipped going to practice and hid in the bathroom. I never felt like I was part of the team. they always excluded me. the coach gave me about five minutes of game time out of pity, only at the end of a game and only if we were losing terribly. every other time I was on the bench the entire game. not that I cared. I'd rather not play at all.

I got a girlfriend in 7th grade mainly out of peer pressure. there was a girl I liked in the 6th grade, who I'm just gonna call P for privacy reasons. me and P were really close friends. we liked the same video games and youtubers and shows and music and art. she was super creative and funny. although neither of us knew why, she was bullied as much as I was. looking back, we both had severe undiagnosed autism and adhd. I never really liked her romantically though. I thought she was nice and really wanted to hang out with her and I even kissed her a couple times. but I really wasn't interested in women at the time. when I told her, we had a huge break up that summer, they told everyone I cheated on them, and we didn't talk at all for most of my 8th grade. eventually we got back together, and were friends in high school. it seems really mean to say that the only reason I dated her was to stop people from calling me gay. but it was part of the reason why I did date her.

I was in chorus in middle school. I was a pretty good singer and had a nice range. I was always bullied because of it, but I didn't care. chorus met every month at one of the catholic high schools. it was a big meeting of people from all the catholic schools in the county. and at the end of the year there was a big performance. it was the one thing about catholic school I actually honestly enjoyed.

there was one kid who was probably the biggest bully. Jacob was the only person shorter than me, and was probably bullied just as bad as I was when he was back in 5th grade before I arrived. and he took out all his anger on me. constantly picking on me, punching me, slapping me. he used to sit behind me on the bus and poke my head. I tried to move seats and change busses. but nothing worked. one day, I was fed up. I used my father's advice and slapped him in the face. not hard, but enough to say "stop fucking with me".

Jacob ran home crying. he told his parents, and his parents called the school, and the school called my parents. I was suspended for a week, because I lightly slapped a bully in the face after he repeated punched me and called me a retarded faggot pussyboy. even though I told teachers and parents multiple times that Jacob was a problem, no one cared until he started crying.

I was forced to write a handwritten apology to him. I fell behind after being out of school for a week. I was forced to quit chorus. I had to call my grandma, who was dying with cancer at the time, that I wouldn't be at the chorus concert she had been looking forward to all year.

I attempted suicide twice. once by cutting, once by hanging. I felt like shit. I felt like no one, not even my own parents, cared about me. I had no idea what was wrong with me. after one of my teachers got aggressive with me and pulled my arm too hard, I tried to run away from home. I was too afraid to tell them what happened, because either they wouldn't believe me, or I'd get in trouble for being a victim of abuse. to this day, I've never told my parents that one of my teacher's grabbed me. but I do know that the particular person in question is no longer a teacher, and also probably dead too.

I went to a public high school. not too many people from middle school went to the same high school, but a few did. namely P and Jacob. freshman year was rough. I took chorus class, but did really badly in my other classes. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had major major major depression. near the end of that year, my mom took my to a psychiatrist. they prescribed me vyvanse and lexipro. at first I didn't want to take any pills. I had the horrible idea in my head that they would change me and make me a different person. but eventually I did start taking them. my suicidal thoughts went away, my grades improved, and I started making more friends.

sophomore year was much better. I hung out with P and friends from chorus a lot. I took an art class with the best teacher ever. I started to explore my sexuality since I finally had a support system. I became more active on tumblr and remade my blog which I still have to this day.

about halfway through the year, there was a school shooting. it happened right in front of my art classroom. I saw someone get shot and fall to the floor. as our class hid, hearing the paramedics desperately try to save a girl from being shot through her skull, and armed cops storm the halls, I cried and wondered how this could happen, and why it was happening to us. because someone was shot right in front of our classroom, they had to clean up the hallway before we were allowed to evacuate. eventually we were moved to a different room, but not before being escorted by a tile floor stained red with blood. I found out that a classmate of mine, J, was shot in the head and was in the hospital in critical condition. another boy was shot in the leg and injured. and the shooter killed himself. I held out hope that J would survive. when I heard that she was taken off life support, I stopped taking my pills, and regressed back into depression.

school was canceled for about a month after that. everyone was hurt. our entire class was given therapy. I spent years trying to get the image of a dead body out of my head. I looked for support everywhere I could. I was active on a social media platform called google plus at the time, which was like if reddit and 4chan had a baby, and that baby was a website populated by 13 year olds who made an account to comment on youtube videos and decided "you know what? what the hell. I'll use this". it was absolute hell. when I talked about my experience and survivor's guilt, I was bullied and harassed and called a liar and told to kill myself for trying to "take away people's guns".

eventually, I met a friend in my Spanish class. his name was T. and he helped me through a super rough time in my life. we were close, both identified as pansexual, liked the same video games, and both used tumblr. we soon started dating, and he helped me learn more about transgender people. it was at this time I started to identify as nonbinary. no one treated me like I was a boy, so why should I be bothered to identify as one? this was so freeing. I felt like a massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

I started going to my local PFLAG meetings and talking about my experience with others. meeting other queer people, both in school and out of school, helped me feel... normal.

junior year was healing for me. I started driving lessons, took chorus again, took an art class with T, and spent more time with him. eventually, I started to realize that being nonbinary wasn't right for me. I wondered if I could identify as a trans woman, but felt I didn't deserve to. I didn't want to play into the autogynophile myth, and I felt like wanting to be a woman was something that other people deserved but not me. being online during the rise of jkr's hate movement against trans people did not help at all. but with tons of love and support, T helped me, and I started publicly using she/her pronouns at school.

I told my mom, and I'll always remember the day I came out to her, Feb 7th 2019. the day I started living. she started taking me to her woman's group therapy, and there I spoke with a therapist who diagnosed me with gender dysphoria and recommended I start hormones as soon as possible. I was put on a wait list, but had no idea what the time frame would be like.

coming out to my dad was worse. he was cutting fish on the back of his truck with a huge knife. I told him "hey, the reason my is taking me to her therapy sessions. it's because I think I might be a woman. I think I'm transgender." and after a pause, I told him "I'm sorry" before running inside and crying. for the briefest of moments, I was worried he would hurt me with the knife. I know now that he would never do such a thing. but I at the time I was scared of him and how he would react.

that summer, me and T broke up since they were going away for college, but we remained friends. it was also around this time where I started to learn a bit about kink and s&m. I also changed my blog name to daughter-of-sapph0 at this time I'm pretty sure.

summer ending quickly, and I started senior year. I was dual enrollment, which meant I took high school classes in the morning and courses at community college in the afternoon. I had some amazing high school teachers, but was unfortunately stuck with J for two of my four classes. I also took sociology and art courses at college. I was starting to feel better about myself. it was around this time that I started looking into Judaism as a religion, and considered converting.

around the end of 2019, I was pretty active online. I had a decent presence on twitter, mostly in telling transphobes and nazis to kill themselves. my main claim to fame is calling Graham Lineham a sad pathetic wet fart who spends his time jerking off to tranny porn and then going on twitter and saying we deserve to die. he replied to me directly and called me a groomer, despite me being 17 at the time. I pointed that out, and asked him if calling minors "pedophiles" on twitter is why his wife left him, only to be blocked by him immediately after. that was honestly my proudest moment ever.

it was also around this time that I made the worst mistake of my life. I posted a selfie on a lesbian subreddit, and received a few positive comments, mainly from other trans lesbians. and then I had my first ever stalker. this person harassed me everywhere. I complained to the mods, but all they could do was ban them from the subreddit. they somehow managed to find my tumblr, and then my twitter. they made multiple accounts and sent me rape and doxx threats daily. I tried reporting them everywhere I went. when I spoke out and went public about my abuse and stalking and harassment and rape threats, they called me a liar and started a smear campaign against me on twitter. I went pretty inactive on tumblr, completely remade my twitter, and never touched reddit again. eventually, the harassment slowed down.

I had been out as a woman for about a year now. the misgendering and harassment at school was infrequent, but manageable (okay that's a lie). but I do have one positive memory. me and a few other seniors had permission to drive to school. one of those seniors was J. and he drives like a fucking asshole. him and his friend both drive at the exact same speed on the only two lane road, making it impossible for me to pass. one day I tried to pass my driving in the median, only for them to speed up. I needed to get up to like 80mph before I was able to safely pass one of them. the other one quickly sped up and passed me. as the road changed to one lane, I was trapped between them, as one of them constantly break checked me and the other tailgated me. after I got home safely, I got both their plates and reported them for irresponsible and reckless driving. idk if anything came of it. but the next day I asked J's friend if he drives a red truck because his driving sucks. he said he didn't, some other short white boy did. I said "oh sorry. you two look exactly the same, so I can't tell you apart" and he came up with the incredible comeback "you look like a girl", to which I responded "yes, thank you for noticing." this was honestly the proudest moment of my life.

the second half of my senior year was going pretty well. really the only things that could ruin it are a spike in transphobic violence, my stalker coming back to harass me even more, and a massive society-halting pandemic that puts everything on pause and ruins my dreams of college and sends me into a depressive spiral that I try desperately to heal through sex. good thing that wouldn't happen. right?!?

I'd write more, but I'm exhausted. it's late for me right now. I'm sorry for using this anon to traumadump and give my whole life story, but I feel it's important to share.

I have ptsd. I've struggled with trauma and depression and suicide my entire life. I've constantly been seen as lesser, unworthy, disgusting, horrible, wrong. sometimes it's big things like constant bullying or rape threats or someone trying to kill my while driving. other times is as simple as a single word.

I'll refrain from giving the 2020-2024 life story for right now. but I hope that reading this at least gives you a bit of insight into the trauma that I had to deal with growing up. and I'm one of the lucky ones. I have supportive parents and friends and therapy and hormones and basically everything I need to survive. and I still attempted suicide multiple times, I still have trauma, I still was harassed and threatened and stalked. imagine how much worse it is for other people who aren't as fortunate as me.

it's "just a word". if it's so small and meaningless, then you can just choose to not use it. it's not that hard. we're asking, begging, for the bare minimum level of respect here. and you can't even give us that.

[1americanconservative]

Everyone on X Should See This Video

Watch Out Elle Woods and iCarly. This Girl Can Out Accessorize You Any Day Of The Week & Out Think You With Half Her Brain Tied Behind Her Back! “So I have a message to my fellow Americans. You'll watch this on TV or YouTube. Whose side are you on? Are you on the side of criminals or are you on the side of this country?” “I'd like to start off with something Edward Snowden, a whistleblower once said. He said, when exposing a crime is treated as committing a crime, you are being ruled by criminals.” “Everyone in this room recognizes that what's happening surrounding the nonstop influx of illegal aliens is criminal. Everyone recognizes that something evil is among us and Americans are not ready for the fundamental impacts this will have. “In fact, we can't even fathom it because we've never seen anything like this. Never. We have an administration that is run by criminals who hate America. “That is why they protect these criminals. Police have been instructed from above to not mess with them. So no matter what these criminal aliens do, they're always released. It's not an accident. This is by design. And we have a garbage media that gets paid for lousy coverage. We have a media that protects criminals. “It seems as if every level of government has been bought out. It really makes you wonder how many seats in government have been bought out by foreign influence. “And we have a government that uses language to weaponize the masses. They're not illegal aliens, they're asylum seekers. Refugees. And they throw these terms around so that the people of America feel guilty. Because nobody wants to be a bad person. We all aim to be good. But there's a distinction between goodness and tolerance. “There's a difference between goodness and naivety. And unfortunately, I believe the majority of Americans are not acting out of the spirit of goodness, but rather out of the spirit of cowardice and naivety. And we have the Committee on Immigrant and Refugee Rights headed by anti-American [40th Ward Alderman] Andre Vasquez. “Friendly terms, but I like to call them what they are. The pro criminal committee, the anti-American committee. They are here not for people, but to destroy America. These groups are enemies of America. “How many illegals are you housing in your home, Vasquez? Uh-oh. Since you love them so much, house them in your own home. Use your own money to fund them[...] “Stop feeling like you're a bad person for calling them illegals. Stop letting our enemies gaslight us into believing we are racist or anti-immigrant. She's a new person. A good person isn’t a coward. A good person stands up for their neighbors. “I'll finish with my favorite Martin Luther King Jr. quote. And I hope my fellow Americans ponder this. He once said, the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. The nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.” Transcript Credit: WallStreetApes

https://x.com/AmericanHubener/status/1775233374539448664

[manawari]

Really really random thought

But if some of the S rank hunters had an S/O, I think it would go really badly if someone ever tried to flirt with their S/O anywhere near their proximity.

I mean, the national ranked hunters can essentially do whatever they want without consequences and it’s implied that they don’t hesitate to commit horrifying crimes if pissed off.

Some S ranks are definitely on the nicer sider though (cha haein, lennert)

Still, I don’t see it ending in any other way that a bloodbath for certain people(zhigang, thomas, maybe jinwoo)

The S/O would either not care and be completely desensitized at this point(maybe S/O is also a high ranking hunter used to horrific sights. Or they could really just not be bothered to care)

Or be totally traumatized(yandere?)

Side note, what do you think are the types for S ranks(personality wise)

Oh, good question!

But bear in mind, I already have S/Os in stored for these (most) S-Ranks, though I'd still describe it the best way I can:

Not going to include Dong-soo here because he does not deserve it.

Ma Dong-wook — I don't see him with someone. But if he does have a significant other, I'd say he prefers someone who is gentle and caring just like him. He's the type of guy who separates hunter life from personal life, so Dong-wook would likely settle for someone who keeps him grounded and forget that he is a hunter once he's with them.

Lim Tae-gyu — his coy and carefree personality matches with someone who is quite stoic and will be 100% done of him, but will cherish and tolerate him regardless, along with calling him out.

Baek Yoon-ho — Choi Jong-in.

Eun-seok — based on what we see of him only, he seems friendly and kind-hearted. He looks after people and protects them with every strength he has. I see him with someone who is mature and cares for people around just like him; I doubt Eun-seok will care what rank they are, but the moment his heart beats, he won't stop pursuing them.

Min Byung-gyu — his type is simple. Someone who understands him and loves him the way he does to them. He's the type of guy who will take someone out for a nice, sweet date, and then geek about history. He prefers to be with someone who is on the same level as him in terms of personality, since I don't think he'll go for someone tough, rather a person who has the cutest smile ever that can make his heart melt.

Choi Jong-in — Baek Yoon-ho.

Lennart Niemann — whether he denies it or not, his type is the exact opposite of him. He likes adrenaline, likely to give him headaches, but gives the best hugs ever.

Thomas Andre — someone who is done with him, but will easily melt the moment he shows a tint of affection.

Liu Zhigang — we know that he's a busy guy who protects his people and be his country's finest hunter alive, so I think his type should be someone who does not care about his status and treats it like it's not of a big deal like "oh, he's going out there to fight? Not even surprised."

Sung Jin-woo — he probably hasn't thought of what his type should be, so I guess he will just have to wait for his heart to "click" once he meets that certain someone, specifically who will appreciate him for what he is and on par with his skills.

Cha Hae-in — this girl has been exposed to spotlight ever since she awakened as an S-Rank, therefore a lot will only adore her because of what she presents in public, not her true self that she'd never show. She prefers someone who will see beyond that spotlight of hers and treat her like a human being, as well as not smelling bad for her senses, which will be a struggle for her to go on a date.

As for the Japanese S-Ranks, I sadly have no idea since my headcanons on them aren't exactly that big jagsajdgsdh (ask @pain-suffering-even if you still wish to know)

Side note: will it go badly if someone attempts to flirt with the S-Ranks' S/Os? That depends on the personality. If you're talking about the tough S-Ranks (including Eun-seok bc of personal headcanons), then you should pray for your dear life. As for the nicer S-Ranks, nothing to worry about, except that you'd get a death glare or they'll be clingier with their S/Os.

[cursedvibes]

tw // rape and sexual assault

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-

-

Can I be honest about something. I feel like Kenjaku fans are really dishonest about their sexual assault and rape.

I know that they didn’t directly rape Choso’s mother themself, but they still orchestrated it and oversaw it and made sure the cursed spirit raped her.

And then there’s Kaori. Is it not rape to have sex in a dead person’s corpse? She couldn’t consent to having her body used like that. It’s rape. And if you try to defend this and say that her body wasn’t hers anymore…that’s beyond vile.

I’m not saying that Kenjaku fans can’t like them or think they’re an interesting character or whatever. But I think it’s deeply harmful that I’ve seen so many of you insist that they’re not a rapist. Too many of you are like “hehe my criminal wife who commits all the crimes XD” and if you’re going to like a character who’s a rapist, could you at least not talk about them like that?

I mean, I can understand being uncomfortable with that and with what Kenjaku did, that's what you're supposed to feel after all. I also don't think Kenjaku fans have the obligation to bring up every single one of their crimes every time we talk about them, even if it's light-hearted. I talked about Kenjaku being a rapist before here and for the most part still agree with what I said there. While from what we know, the way the mother was impregnated wasn't sexual, I can understand calling it rape. It's like if someone was inseminated with a syringe against their will. Technically not sexual, still a violation of the body and reproductive autonomy.

So yes, what they did to the Death Painting mother is vile, so is them killing infants and and exploiting people's bodies in all kinds of ways. In case of Kaori I'm also heavily side-eyeing Jin's involvement there, especially after the reveal about his past. I don't particularly like it when some Kenjaku fans minimize what they did or say it didn't happen at all/excuse it in some other way, I honestly only see that very rarely though. Not nearly as much as people painting Sukuna as the perfect husband for example or him just being deeply misunderstood. Many Kenjaku fans are very much aware of their atrocities, just don't bring it up at every occasion because there's a lot more to talk about. What annoys me much more is people breaking all this down to redundant and tired "backshots" memes.

Still, I don't think all that prohibits you from making jokes about them in general like "my evil wife" etc. You have every right to be uncomfortable with that and I'd advise to block people who you think go too far, I do the same thing myself, but I think in itself it's not a bad thing. We're still talking about a fictional character here after all. As long as you don't lose sight of what they actually did (like I'm getting the impression with many of the backshots memes besides them often being very trans- and homophobic), I don't see the problem.

A lot of that has to do with how jjk engages with these things too. Like the Death Painting experiment isn't treated quite as lightly (and personally, I've never seen anyone joke about that specifically, but maybe I was lucky), but Kenjaku's treatment of Choso for example is and so fans see it as an opening to find the humor in a terrible situation. It's much harder to make jokes about Seiko from Blood on the Tracks, despite her having committed far lesser crimes than Kenjaku because the nature of the story is different. More realistic, you experience the horror of her abuse first-hand and the characters don't make a lot of jokes themselves either. There is much more of a comedic element to Kenjaku, they can be quite a quirky character, so people feel a lot more comfortable making jokes about them. Based on the target, severity and content I don't think that's bad, just a different way of engaging with the media.

When I write about the Death Painting experiment and from the perspective of the mother for example (in fanfic or just my blog), I usually draw upon experiences of rape recovery together with medical trauma. It's not for everyone, but for me, exploring this topic in the safe environment of fiction is interesting and in a way comforting. The horror of the infanticide, worming their way into the Itadori family, their whole relation with Yuuji, the Death Painting experiment is what got me so invested and keeps me invested in jjk in the first place. That's not everyone's reason for engaging with it or Kenjaku, just my perspective. And yeah, I do make jokes about them too because despite all that they can be funny. I mean, they literally just did a comedy show.

[drainbangle]

wait omg i’m curious about your unpopular thoughts about temenos writing wise.. i love when people discuss octopath writing it’s really enriching to see what we all have to say about certain story elements. plus you’re like a temenos representative to me. your thoughts about temenos make me go “so true!”

Aw, thank you! It took a while for me to decide on what to write here, since honestly I could go on for… frankly any aspect of this guy, especially in regards to treatment in fanon. But for now, I'll focus on my thoughts regarding how people treat tragedy in Temenos' story— namely, Crick's death— and why I personally dislike it as a writing decision and why I disagree with the idea that it is necessary.

Note: Goes without saying, but this is my personal opinion. If you believe otherwise, then that's all good. I'm not writing this to say that any one person is wrong, just to talk about an issue I have with the game's writing itself.

To start, I'll say that my main reason for disliking Crick's death in SH route is a matter of practicality. Killing him off causes Temenos to lose the main person that he had a fantastic relationship and banter with, and in my opinion, Temenos works best when he's bouncing off another person; not unlike most under the Sherlock-archetype.

Also, genuinely? It works wonders to keep Crick alive, if just because it provides a fantastic avenue to explore Temenos' institutional trauma. Having a character that's lived a different experience but within the same harmful institution opens up ways to explore the scope of its harm. And yes, this is for Crick specifically; not Ort, not the travelers, but Crick.

I think it really adds something that Temenos was raised by the church while Crick converted as a teenager during a really difficult time in his life. These two are good for each other. Crick sure as hell makes it a lot easier to write Temenos in fic.

(If you have a different experience, again, that's cool. I'm glad for you. I, however, will never fail to take the easy way out.)

(This is a lie, I'm over here making up fantasy church law for fic stuff but that's not related to this answer.)

I won't pretend that disliking Crick's death is an unpopular opinion. I mean, "Stormhail Fix-it" is an entire genre of fic on the OT2 Ao3 tag. What I do feel tends to go unaddressed though, is the fact that the idea that Crick's death is canon, therefore it is necessary, therefore it is the best decision; an idea that I wholeheartedly disagree with.

Within the text itself, Crick is killed off in order to give Temenos a personal reason to pursue Kaldena, thus putting him at odds with Kaldena's motivations being driven by her ideology and worldview that, "because humans committed the massacre, it was the gods' mistake to put us here". I also won't pretend that Kaldena's writing here isn't fucking awful, because Crick's death is also a device to make the player want Kaldena defeated even though she is just as much as a victim of the church; and that's to say nothing of her portrayal as an indigenous and dark-skinned woman.

These decisions are ones I disagree with. Killing Crick off was unnecessary to give Temenos reason to pursue the culprit, because Temenos already had someone close to him killed; and that's Pontiff Jörg. He raised Temenos from infancy, but due to the lack of focus on him outside of banter conversations, it's never relevant to his motivations outside of the desire for truth because a crime was committed. 

We also didn't need to kill Crick off to show that the church was a terrible institution, because Roi already went missing in action. The Sacred Guard is the main body of law within Eastern Solistia, it's not unreasonable to think that the reason why Temenos dislikes them is because they clearly didn't do shit to investigate his disappearance.

However, one thing I really don't agree with is the idea that Crick's death is necessary because Temenos' story is a tragedy. And if you asked me why, I'd ask this in turn: why is death the only form of tragedy? Furthermore, why must a tragedy contain only tragic events? That in mind, what gives anything value in a tragedy, then?

Pretend we cannot completely rewrite Temenos' story. Even then, changing Crick's death to a permanent injury, a coma, or whatever is still a tragic event; and that's nothing to say of living with the consequences. Isn't losing your faith a tragedy? Isn't losing something you worked for years to do a tragedy?

Similarly, I'd still argue that it's more valuable to make Stormhail a near-death experience because not only does it show Temenos succeeding in making someone question the church but also the terror that is feeling like you're doomed to repeat tragedy. Even if you really aren't, it's hard to dismiss that feeling; especially when it has to do with being victimized by institutions.

And before someone says, "but bad things happen to good people in real life", I'm not treating these characters as living, breathing people who are subject to things like gravity, hunger, and exhaustion. I'm treating them as choices, and choices made that I disagree with. 

It's why I make different choices. I choose to make Crick have to deal with chronic pain onwards. I choose to make Temenos realize change is still possible. I choose to let them both leave Stormhail alive. Are these better choices? I don't know. But I'll never stop questioning the ones made by the writers regardless; much less stop disagreeing with them.

So, in summary: I dislike Crick's death. I dislike Temenos having to spend the rest of the story without someone he can talk to so easily because Crick's absence weakens a lot of his scenes in Temenos 4. But more than that, I dislike the idea that tragedy is necessary on top of the idea that it is superior. Tragedy's good, I adore the genre; but written in mindful doses and all that.

[psychoticallytrans]

As a prison officer in the UK, the way disabled, lgbtq+ and ethnic minority people are treated in American prisons horrifies me. Some of the mistreatment stories I've heard have truly shaken me and I could never imagine treating an inmate that way. I'd like to ask a few questions about the concept of prison abolition.

A) does that mean that you want all prisons (in America) done away with?

B) if that happens, would you want to see the prison system rebuilt differently, with different values?

C) if not, what would you then want to see happen to those criminals who are not fit to be in the outside world?

The last one especially interests me, because I'm a huge believer in rehabilitation and redemption. I do a lot of work in it myself. However, I've met people who are genuinely unwilling/unable to be rehabilitated, and sometimes I think a (UK) prison is the safest place to put them, both for their sake and for others.

Abolition means exactly what it sounds like. No more prisons. It also isn't exclusive to the US. A lot of prison abolition advocates are here because our system is particularly heinous in comparison to the "best country" front our country puts on. I recommend that you look into what prison abolition advocates are saying in the UK. You might be surprised by what some of your fellows are doing to inmates, and how it harms them.

How we accomplish this varies in the details from person to person, but tends to involve a few factors:

One, dealing away with the reasons for as many crimes as possible. There are a lot of options for this. Reinforcing our social safety nets so that people don't have to fear for housing, for their children, for food or medicine. Reestablishing on a wide scale the availability of live-in mental health care, this time with far more oversight to prevent abuse of patients, and a strong lean towards the supportive decision making model and peer to peer support. Some crimes also just need to be struck from the books, such as drug use and possession, which needs to be considered a public health issue, not a criminal one.

Two, if someone does still commit a crime under this model, figuring out why they did it and addressing it with them. This often takes the form of community service, healthcare, job training, and a support team working to help them to reintegrate.

I ask you this. Of the people you don't think could reintegrate, how many of them would be able to do so if they had several people backing and supporting them doing so and knew that they would be safe and able to live a life outside? How many of those actually need lifelong live-in mental health care, which is almost impossible to access these days, rather than lifelong incarceration? And are you aware that it will be almost impossible to answer these questions for all of the inmates without making an attempt?

In the meantime, I'd like to leave you this link, which covers a brief history of prison abolition in the UK, and includes further reading at the end.