#we've never had to look at the effects of that head on and decide for ourselves how guilty or innocent those actions make edgeworth

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

We won't ever get it, but I think it would've been cool to see an antagonist/client who hates Edgeworth specifically because of what he did as von Karma's student. Like someone whose loved one -- I want to say 'sister' because AA, but I think it'd be pretty cool if it was their father -- was wrongly convicted and given the death sentence because he silenced witnesses or presented faulty evidence or something similar, and there's no fix to it. The case ends with the truth being revealed and ringing hollow, because they don't want revenge, not really; maybe they just want the verdict overturned, but even that doesn't change anything, because the person is gone, and whatever damage could have been done has been done, and they just have to live with it, all of them. I think it'd be interesting to see how Edgeworth and the people around him handle that confrontation -- the idea that you can change and try to fix your mistakes the best you can, but there are some things you'll never be able to atone for. Not really. And you just have to keep living.

[mxqdii]

you taught me - r.b

pairings: regulus black x reader

summary: her last relationship was so toxic that it effects her relationship with regulus. he teaches her what it's like to actually loved and cared for.

warning(s): mentions of abuse, mentions of toxic relationship, sad reader, fluff/comfort from regulus, slight panic attack.

not proofread

it's a typical day, i head to the library to find a good book.

as i walk in, i see regulus and a smile hits my face, we've been dating for a while now. it's still a secret, only evan and barty know, but we���re gonna tell others eventually.

i look around, seeing the empty library and hugging regulus from behind

"hi regs!" i smile and he turns around, eyebrow raised

"regs?" he questions with a teasing smile and my face drops

"sorry! i didn't even know i said that, i can stop if you want it was an accident i swear!" i ramble on and his expression changes again

he looks at me now in confusion

"what..?" i ask quietly

"i was joking love, it's okay." he says and i raise my eyebrows

"oh.. okay.." i noted with a smile

---

later that evening, me and regulus are still in the library, my legs over his as we sit on the couch.

a book in my hand as i flip the pages

my eyes light up as i read about it and regulus notices

"what's got you so happy?" he says and i smile, looking at him

"well, i've actually read this book like 10 times.. i just, i've always really really loved it, like so much. anyways its about thsi girl named lydia and she has like, nobody- anyways she moves to this new town and finds this boy- anyways! sorry i could talk about it for like hours, but i wont" i ramble on

his eyes watch me in astonishment while i talk, listening intently.

and even though he doesn’t know what i'm talking about, he doesn't care. he likes seeing the ways my eyes light up when im talking about something i'm passionate about

he likes seeing my cheeky smile when i'm explaining the characters

"keep talking, i'm listening" he says and i go wide eyed

nobody has ever said that to me before.

i almost feel tears fill my eyes as i look down and let out a smile, this feeling is so unfamiliar.

---

i'm sitting in my room distancing myself from my boyfriend, my friends, everyone.

i miss regulus, which is exactly why im distancing myself

sounds stupid, but i'd feel bad bothering him by asking to hangout, so i'm in here instead.

i could hangout with sirius, remus and james... but i'm just not up to it right now

suddenly theres a knock on the door

i open it seeing regulus, letting out a sigh of relief and gesturing him in.

"hey, where've you been all day, i haven't seen you at all" he says and i feel the guilt wash over me

"i know i'm really sorry i just felt... bad" i say, sitting on my bed

"about what my love?" he asks, sitting next to me.

"no it's nothing it's fine" i say smiling and he shakes his head

"tell me" he speaks softly and i melt at the tone

"i don't know i just missed you but i didn't wanna bother you so i came here instead, i don't know it's stupid i'm sorry" i say, avoiding eye contact the whole time

"what? baby you could've just asked to hangout i was free all day" he says with a sad chuckle

"oh.. sorry" i mumble

he moves closer to me tucking my hair behind my ear

regulus was never usually a soft person, but something about me made him melt, he'd never admit that though.

something about how gentle and fragile i was made him feel the need to be the most loving person i could have

and he knew something had happened, the way i always apologized and second guessed my words, the way i was careful around him, the way i put him before myself

i didn't need to act that way around him though, but he didn't know how to tell me that, so instead he just decided to show me, as much as he could.

without saying anything, he pulled me into a loving hug, a hug i've never gotten before

i let myself melt into his warmth, feeling nothing but comfort in this moment.

---

me regulus were told to meet sirius, remus and james in the gryffindor common room, which isn't unusual considering we all hangout all the time.

we walk in to be met with uncomfortable tension and silence

"jesus who pissed us off" i say sarcastically and they stay quiet

"come on guys, what?" regulus says

"tell me y/n, how long have you been fucking my brother" sirius shouts and my eyes widen

"sirius-" i try to explain but he doesn't let me

"i mean really? my brother? that's low y/n" he says and i feel my chest tighten at the yelling

"and you!- one of my best friends? really??" sirius says, speaking to regulus now.

"sirius it's not like that" i say, still in my normal tone.

"like hell it is!" he argued

"you don''t understand- we're-" before finishing my sentence, sirius interrupts again

"you're what? in love? i don't care what you are, i care about you two not fucking telling me. i had to find out through some random ravenclaw! and to top it off it's my brother and my best friend, yet i wasn't the first to know??? unbelievable." he shouts

i don't even notice the way i'm shaking, the way it's become hard to breathe.

i feel so aware of everything, just not myself.

"sirius-" remus trys to interrupt to stop him

"sirius stop" regulus shouts

they continue yelling at eachother until sirius walks towards me

i tense my body, preparing for something i know all too well.

"i expected more from you y/n, i would've expected you to tell me about this shit" he argues, his voice still raised and his tone still bitter

"sirius- calm down" i say, not knowing what else to do

"calm down!?" he shouts, raising his hands in exasperation

his hands, his voice, his tone.

it was too familiar, so i did what i know

i used my hands to protect myself, covering my face.

i fucking flinched.

the room falls silent, not a single whisper, even from sirius.

still in my hiding position, i realize what i just did, how i just reacted, i know sirius would never hit me.

fuck, i messed up.

my hands lower from my face and i slowly turn my head towards sirius, scared to see his reaction

i look up at him, tears overflowing in my eyes

i see his softened expression, the look in his eyes, the way he immediately stopped

"did- did you think i was gonna.. hit you?" he hesitates, asking gently, softly.

i look around, seeing everyone looking at me

it's the look on regulus's face that makes me crack.

i look back at sirius and just scoff, running out of the common room and to my dorm.

i lock the door and absolutely break down sobbing, finding it hard to breathe.

i'm curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around my knees, hiding my face in them.

suddenly i feel hands on me, gasping at the sudden touch, i look up seeing regulus's soft gaze on me.

"hey, hey, it's me you're okay, i'm here love" he says wrapping me into a hug.

he pulls me on his lap and i wrap my legs around his waist, causing him to stand up and sit us down on my bed

(sorry if that didn't make sense)

i nuzzle my head into his neck as he rubs my back

"let it out love, i'm here." he says and i try to find the words to speak.

i pull away from the hug slightly and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear

"i- he-" i try to explain but my words are being taken from me, like i'm being forbidded

"i know love, it's okay, i've got you."

my words being taken from me frustrates me even more, causing me to just lean into him and continue sobbing

he embraces me again, stroking my hair and whispering reassuring sweet nothings into my ear.

because of him, my sobs slowly turn into cries, and my cries slowly turn into sniffing and tears running down my face.

it was a start.

i pull away from our embrace again, scared to speak

i can't look at him, i know if i do i might break, so i keep my gaze shifted on my fingers, picking the skin off of them, a nervous habit.

he grabs my hands to stop me from picking them

"you don't have to say anything or just in general talk about it, not if you don't want to" he says and i sigh

"you have a right to know" i say shakily.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks and i hesitate

"i- i'm a mess" i sniffle, embarrassed.

his finger trails up to my chin, using it to tilt my head up.

the sight of my tear stained cheeks and red puffy nose breaks his heart

his eye contact, the look on his face, made me break, as i suspected

i tilt my head back down, letting out silent cries

"tu es en sécurité avec moi, je ne laisserai rien t'arriver" he says

even though i can't understand it, just the sound of his voice makes me feel better.

he uses his hands to cup my cheeks, making me look up again

he uses his thumb to wipe my tears

something that makes my heart swell, something i'm not used to

i watch him, no sign of disgust or shame on his face, just love, pure love.

"why?" i ask, him shifting his gaze back to my eyes.

"why what?" he replies

"why do you do this for me? why are you so nice to me?"

his heart shatters into a million pieces, expression softening even more

if that's even possible

"because i love you, and you deserve to be loved. i wish you could see that" he says

"i didn't and still don't wanna push you, but i notice things, i'm an observer. i notice your apologies and how you always seem scared around me, not scared of me, scared of yourself and what you might say, what i might do to you if you say the wrong thing" he starts to speak

i look down again as he continues to talk

"i just want you to know that i'd never do anything to hurt you, ever. you'll always be safe with me, no matter what you've heard before. i'd die before hurting you, and it breaks me to see you like this love" he says and another tear falls down my cheek

"i said it before, you have a right to know." i say with a shaky breath

"my last relationship.. it- it changed me. the guy i dated, he would use me and manipulate me and treated me more as his bitch then his girlfriend. he would- get really mad if i said or did something wrong, something he didn't like or something that embarrassed him. and sometimes when things got heated... he'd.. hit me and stuff.. and i knew it was wrong but it's what he made me think i deserved. so ever since then i've always felt like that's what i deserve, which is why i don't really know why you treat me the way you do, it's just very unfamiliar." i explain

he watches me, listening intently the whole time.

"i don't think i know what love is.." i mumble, ashamed.

"i didn't, for a long time. but eventually.. someone taught me."

he says and i look up at him confused

he smiles, rolling his eyes when i don't get the hint

"you, y/n, you taught me love." he says and my eyes widen

"me? i- i don't even know how to love someone i-" i start speaking but he stops me

"it's what you're doing, what you've been doing, you just never realized it. this whole time you've shown me love, it was unfamiliar because it was new. that unfamiliar feeling you've felt around me, it's love" he says

i take a second to think about his words.

thinking back to the feeling in my stomach when he'd talk to me, the way my heart fluttered when we'd hold hands, the way i longed for him when he wasn't around.

holy shit, i love regulus black.

"you- you're right" i say, realization clear in my tone

"i- i think i love you" i say, looking up at him

he smiles "i love you too darling, always have"

in that moment i knew i'd be alright, i knew i could give regulus my heart and trust him not to break it.

in that moment i knew, he taught me how to love.

TAGLIST:

@stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm

[pinievsev]

Midnight Wishes And Arcade Games. P.H

Divider by @funfettified (<3)

Genre: Fluff, birthday fic

Warnings: none that I know of

Summary: birthday fic for my bbg @chiiyuuvv (happy birthday bb! <3!)

Pairing: Hunter x gn!reader (Romantic), xikers x reader (platonic)

Taglist: @camphxam (taglist open<3)

@pinievsev on Tumblr, please do not repost on other platforms or translate without permission<3!

Slowly, you cracked your eyelids open, groaning at the sunlight seeping through your curtains. Trying to reach up and rub them, you found the strong arms wrapped around you tightening.

"Hunter, you need to let me go," you laughed, receiving only a negative hum in response. Struggling to turn around, you were met with your boyfriend's sleeping face. "Hunter..." you tried again, to no avail.

After a moment of thought, an idea popped into your head, and you grinned widely. Slowly inching closer, you began to place small kisses all over his face, effectively causing him to let you go to protect himself.

Giggling, you quickly got up. Hunter pouted up at you, stretching. "No fair," he mumbled. You shook your head in response. "The birthday person shouldn't have to play fair," you shrugged, at which point he seemed to be fully awake. His eyes widened as he jumped up and attacked you with hugs and kisses.

"Happy birthday," you laughed, returning his hug, relishing in the affection for a few moments before pulling away, much to his dismay.

It took a minute to get Hunter to leave you alone so you could get ready, but he reluctantly agreed, needing to get ready himself.

Both of you were ready in a matter of minutes, eating quickly as Hunter rushed you out the door.

"Where are we going?" you asked for the ninth time. "You'll see," was the answer every time. Soon enough, you stood in front of an arcade, filled with people, lights, and laughter.

You smiled at your boyfriend, who looked more than proud of himself to have made you happy. He ushered you inside eagerly.

He won most of the games you played against each other, yet gave the prize to you every time, insisting on holding them for you anyway. You had about seven small plushies and what seemed to be a mountain of tickets by the time you reached the claw machines.

You came to an abrupt stop in front of one, eyes shining at the Kirby plushie perched in the middle of the bright claw machine. Hunter, who seemed to notice this, carefully placed your belongings down by the machine and got to work.

He groaned as he lost for the sixth time. "Hunter, it's fine really," you reassured, but he cut you off with a shake of his head, placing yet another coin inside the machine. At one point, you went to get you both some food.

Upon your return, you were pleasantly surprised to see Hunter holding the plushie with a proud grin adorning his face. "Happy birthday!" he chirped, handing you the light pink plush, which you hugged to your chest immediately, rushing to bring Hunter in a hug as well.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," you rambled on, causing him to giggle and place a kiss on your head. "I'm never playing a claw machine ever again," he said, wiping the nonexistent sweat from his brow.

You'd been outside for hours, going back and forth from the arcade to a nearby café in which Hunter insisted on paying, much to your ego's dismay.

It was about 11:45 p.m. when you decided to head back. "We've been out all day," you concluded, laughing. "It was worth it," he replied, lifting up the bags full of plushies. You insisted on holding Kirby though, claiming it would be better off with you.

As you unlocked the door to your house and took your shoes off, you noticed how unusually quiet and heavy the atmosphere felt. The windows were closed, which you swear you'd left open.

Before you could voice your thoughts, the lights flickered on and you were met with the shouts of nine other boys jumping about happily and hugging you, wishing you a happy birthday.

The living room was decorated from top to bottom in your favorite colors, and on the table, you saw a cake bigger than you'd ever gotten before and heaps of poorly wrapped presents.

"You guys really didn't have to," you laughed, all giddy at the adorable action of your friends and boyfriend. "Hush now, child," Minjae joked, pulling you along to sit on the couch. Hunter perched himself right next to you, the rest of the boys sitting wherever they could around you.

Sumin lit the candles on the cake, and they all began singing happy birthday. You laughed as Junghoon and Jinsik sang dramatically, reminding you of that elephant from Sing.

"Come on, make a wish!" Yechan said excitedly, jumping in his seat. You closed your eyes and blew out the candles as the clock hit midnight. The rest of the night was spent with laughter, jokes, presents, and food.

At the end, all the boys ended up staying over, occupying your living room like some sort of campsite.

Safe to say, you were all exhausted the next morning, surviving through the day with coffee and energy drinks. Worth it.

[diaco1968]

Touya x f!Reader

Warnings! Lemon! Smut! Choking, slapping, spitting, oral (give/recieve), fingering

Smut under the cut

No mentions of quirks, AU where it is Touya Todoroki and not Dabi (still dyed his hair to piss Enji off though), Reader and Touya are betrothed since childhood. This was just plaguing my mind and I had to get it out

Porn with little to no plot

"What is that you're wearing? You belong to me now, don't embarass me like that."

Your fiance gave you the most offensive up and down look he could muster as he loomed over you, effectively shaking your confidence to the core about the dress you had chosen very carefully to look pretty for him. But you were somewhat used to him snapping every once in a while so you retorted quickly as you rolled your eyes.

"Well then you might wanna step up and show them just that. Plus, It's not like there was ever a time I didn't belong to you."

His eyebrow quirked up as he inspected your face, waiting for your suggestion while plopping down on the couch. He had been using the same sentence since you were betrothed to him as mere children. Never warmed up to you quite right since you were his dear father's choice for him.

"Will you dance with me tonight?"

"No."

"That's too bad. Could I perhaps persuade you somehow?~"

"Doubt it."

To his evident surprise you swung one of your legs over his and lowered yourself to straddle his lap, moving around to get comfortable, the main conversation topic seemed long forgotten on your part despite the serious expression still on his face. His self restraint was hot but at the same time you had a feeling he couldn't keep it up. You leaned in for a kiss but he turned his head so instead you dragged your lips along his jaw and chuckled quietly at his pursed lips and the eye roll he did before frowning, still ignoring your presence. Oh he was actually mad about the dress. So it might've been more challenging than you thought. You smirked as you moved your lips down his jaw to lightly nuzzle his neck and take in a deep inhale, making an audible sigh and watched his jaw clench. You moved your hips back and forth again in the disguise of getting comfortable. His hands immediately shot up to grab your hips and steady you into an immediate pause. You could see his internal struggle on his face trying to decide wether to turn to you to glare at you and risk his resolve crumbling or keep looking away.

"Oh come on, it's just a little dress."

You whispered as you sucked his earlobe between your teeth, watching as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

"Exactly. Too little."

His body was betraying him. But he wouldn't crumble. You tried to nip on his neck and that's when he decided he had had enough, and pushed you back slightly.

"Get back in there, we've been away too long."

You clicked your tongue and stepped off of him with a huff, stomping away into the main club room, letting the music fill your mind and distract you from your asshole of a partner. The songs however were making a tiny scheme forming in your head, fuelled by the drinks you kept adding into the mix. You had put so much effort and hope into looking good for him and you were not going to let it all go to waste just cause he rejected you yet again.

One glance around and you could tell there were strangers who did actually appreciate how you looked.

Strangers because no one he had invited to the club dared to check you out and risk facing his wrath. If all he worried about was embarrassment, then you'd seclude yourself from the prying eyes of his friends, but you'd be damned if you didn't dance tonight.

You glanced at him one last time and he knew that smirk on your face as you sauntered away from him and his gang.

His eyes were burning holes right through you as they followed your form, so intense that you could feel them on you from across the room. And yet despite the growing sense of dread from the impending consequences, you were feeling the thrill of riling him up. And he didn't make it hard at all.

With all that going through your head you stepped in the middle of the dancing crowd and soon enough you had found yourself a dancing partner, doing your best to avoid looking in Touya's general direction. You knew he was seething, there was no point seeing it.

The boy asked for your name and shouted his back to you over the booming music but you didn't bother remembering it.

A few songs later and some blown off steam from the dancing had you feeling way jollier and you were having fun to say the least, but of course, it didn't last. The boy reached over and put his hands around your waist.

Alarms went off in your head as that was not at all what you intended.

"No, I'm taken." You shook your head and politely removed his hands from your waist, excusing yourself to step away bitterly getting ready to face Touya's patronization about the situation; but the boy then grabbed your wrist in a vice grip and pulled you back towards himself.

And boy did hell break loose after that.

Your brain couldn't process the speed with which things were taking place, the boy got shoved away from you with a single hand on his shoulder so hard he tumbled back into the crowd harshly, as people stumbled and fell,the music cut off and a crowd formed around the three of you. The broad familiar looking shoulders was blocking your view as he stood face to face with the now humiliated angry boy who had gained his balance back.

You couldn't help the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach as he stood in front of you so protectively.

The security knew Touya well and they immediately stepped in to remove the guy from the place,not even bothering to listen to him.

But in your mind it was completely unnecessary anyway, with how Touya was looming over him. He was intimidating enough on his own.

The music resumed and people awkwardly went back to their dancing.

He turned to you and your heart skipped a beat at the expression on his stern face, subconsciously biting your lower lip.

He could tell how turned on your were, your pupils blown wide as you looked up at him through your lashes, trying to look small.

Your teeth biting into your lip like that was apparently the last straw.

His eyes snapped unto your lips then back over your eyes, his nose trills flared before he reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you along as he walked away into the back rooms past the VIP section.

You were barely inside the room when your back met with the closed door, pressed firmly into it by his body. His hands were caging you in on either side of your head and his nose was almost touching yours.

"You wanted my attention, huh?"

His voice was so accusing that you found yourself struggling to find an answer.

"I-I didn-"

"Well now you can have it all."

His lips crashed onto yours forcefully shutting up the gasp that escaped you. His mouth was so hungry and demanding that you found yourself breathless immediately, but he wasn't having none of that; his fingers gripped a fistful of your hair, nails scraping over your scalp in the process, angling your face up for his own easier access as his tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth. His free hand felt you up, down the small of your back, groping your ass roughly and making you jerk your hips forward into the solid tent on the front of his pants.

You whimpered and raised your arms to hug him around his neck, more so for your own support as your knees felt like they would buckle any moment.

His hand left your hair in favor of skipping over the curve of your ass, his palms running down the back of your bare thighs to your knees, pulling them up around his waist with one strong movement. You clung to him tightly, fingers carding through his hair as he pushed your back against the wall, his hard-on pressing into you, making him groan into the bruising kiss.

When you couldn't take it anymore you tugged on his hair barely enough to make him release your mouth so you could catch your breath. His lips trailed along your jaw, sucking and biting his way down to your neck, relishing in the sounds he made you release as goosebumps spread on your skin.

When satisfied with the marks now littering your neck, he pulled you away from the wall, supporting your weight by securely groping your asscheeks, your nails digging in his shoulders as he carried you, navigating through the clatter in the room towards the squeaky leather couch in the back, his lips having moved to the other side of your neck not once stopping their assault, up until the point he dropped you unceremoniously on the couch, ripping a yelp out of you.

"Well well, would you look at that,"

his fingers stroked over the soaked lace of your panthies that were showing as the dress had ridden up your legs, teasingly running over your slit and making you buck into his touch for more friction.

"It's like you're begging to be bent in half and fucked the shit out of."

"Fuck. Can't blame a girl for hoping."

"Hoping? You?"

He bunched your skirt up around your waist, tearing the tight fabric on the side of your hip in the process, before grabbing your hips and yanking you more towards himself.

"You scheming, vicious bitch."

The rasp in his voice had you pull your lips between your teeth in anticipation, and partly to hide your smirk from him.

He gripped your thighs pushing them up against your chest and holding them down as his face disappeared between your legs, mouthing at your lace covered folds, groaning at the dampness on his lips and tongue, making you throw your head back. His teeth scraped on the lace as he bit it between his teeth and ripped into it, grinning devilishly at the gasps and whines escaping your kiss-bruised lips. A pleased shiver running through him hearing the exceptionally lewd moan ripping out of you as he licked between your puffy folds, nose pressing harshly onto the desperate bundle of nerves.

"Aah! Fuck! Please!"

"Begging already?"

The vibrations and his breath fanning over your wet cunt had you arch your back as you reached out to grip his hair and pull his face closer to you. He didn't disapprove as he started sucking on your clit, effortlessly pushing two fingers into your inviting hole, loving the way it hungrily sucked his digits in.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah? I haven't even started yet."

His fingers curled up, pressing against the sensitive spongy spot in your walls, the arching of your back only a sign for him to keep slamming his fingers against the same spot over and over as he switched between sucking and licking at your clit, the sound of your breathless moans and whines music to his ears. His fingers didn't relent, even as you threw your head back in a silent scream, your folds started fluttering around him, squeezing his fingers as your juices seeped out onto them, your nails scarping his scalp and yanking on his hair. He kept going as you rode your orgasm out, all sorts of unholy noises leaving your lips.

"F-fuck! I can't! C-can't! Please!"

"What is it, doll? What do you want?"

"Fuck me already!"

Your thighs had begun shaking, desperately trying to close around his face but his grip on them was firm, not letting you move an inch, licking his lips, as he wiped his glistening chin with the back of his hand, soaked in your juices.

"Ah ah~ is that how we ask?"

His fingers resumed stroking into you, knuckles deep and you started writhing away as he emerged from between your legs, your face flushed even further, knowing what he wanted to hear.

"Please! I want your dick inside me, please... daddy..."

"Atta girl."

As much as you wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, you couldn't deny how hot he looked when he knew he got his way.

His fingers wrapped around your neck, tightening to the point you had to grip his wrist for the tiniest bit of reassurance, his other hand held the base of his cock, pressing the tip firmly between your sensitive soaked folds, sliding it back and forth, making you twitch and try to get away, to which you received a harder squeeze of the throat resulting in a choked wheeze as your eyes rolled back. The head pressed against your slit and popped right in, your mouth falling open in sync with the languid motion of him bottoming out into you, but despite the lewd wet sound of your pussy, no sound came out of your mouth, squeezed quiet by his fingers.

"My poor bitch only wanted to be fucked up in the back of the club."

He grabbed one of your legs that were around his waist and pushed it over his shoulder, letting you catch your breath before gripping your throat again and pressing you harshly back into the couch.

"Like. a .cheap . Fucking. whore."

His hips started pistoning into you with long deep thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix painfully with each word, making your toes curl.

"Well guess what, it's your lucky day."

Ignoring your mewls he smashed his mouth onto yours, making you taste yourself. It was all too much. The lack of air added to the squelching of your dripping cunt to the mix and your head was dizzy, your walls started quivering around his length once more, making him curse under his breath at the tightness. Your head pushed back further into the couch as your orgasm crashed over you again, forcing him to still inside you from the choking grip of your walls tightly wrapped around his cock. This time he was forced to let you cum in peace. Not too long though.

"Open your mouth."

You pursed your lips and looked up at him pleadingly.

"I said,"

The slap had your head snap to the side and your ear started ringing but he gripped your jaw and forced you to face him again.

"Open."

Your mouth fell open unwillingly.

"Wider."

You obliged watching his smirk turn into an evil grin as he gathered the saliva in his mouth and spat it right into your waiting one. You cringed but he didn't scold or punish you for that, instead ordered you to "swallow."

The foamy liquid went down your throat making you shut your eyes tight.

"Now show me."

He tapped your jaw and you stuck your tongue out like you were told to do so and his mouth was on yours immediately sucking on your tongue and swirling his around it.

He pulled back looking at your fucked out face, satisfied as he gripped your hair and forced you off the couch, taking your place instead and spreading his legs for you to sit in between, his hand still holding your hair, using it to guide your face into his crotch.

"All wet and nice now. Just for you to work that smug little mouth of yours for it."

His shaft rubbed against your cheek, smearing a mix of his precum and your cum onto your skin before he gripped the base and popped it in your mouth.

He didn't even bother letting you adjust, hissing as your teeth lightly scraped his length while he pushed it straight to the back of your throat, bucking his hips up with a guttural moan that would have you dripping if you weren't already. You gagged and choked around him, and he pulled you off to the tip before pushing your head back down, setting a rhythm of thrusting into your mouth and bobbing your head down to meet his hips. You could tell he was close by the way he was twitching and throbbing in your mouth so you ignored the ache of your jaw and the mess of drool seeping out the sides of your mouth and put your tongue to work, rubbing the flat of it under his cock, while hollowing your cheeks around him.

"Shit! Yeah! Just like that. Don't you let it spill."

He threatened with his head thrown back on the backrest of the couch, fingers tightening in your hair, his hips stuttering making you finish the job for him, bobbing your head with renewed vigor. The hot seed that shot up and filled the back of your throat made your already watery eyes spill and you swallowed around his head.

"Fuck! Okay, enough! S-shit!"

But you weren't done. It was his turn to mewl, his knee jerking up as you sucked him dry even after he was done cumming, until he had no choice but to pull you off of himself with the wet tight pop of your lips.

"Damn,"

he smirked as his chest heaved while he observed your evil self satisfied little smile, on your perfectly swollen lips.

"Vicious little bitch~"

"What can I say,"

Your voice was hoarse as you licked your lips.

"I learned from the best."

[worriedvision]

Abnormal - Tighnari

Gender neutral reader, reader is the same species as Tighnari but appears to be human. they join the forest rangers and they feel a connection with Tighnari, only to have issues when their father comes along. Angst with a fluff ending. Suggestive content, nothing nsfw is described though!

--

"You cheated on me?" Your father yelled at your mother, who had just given birth to you.

"I swear, I didn't!" She retorts, everyone looking over to see the argument happening.

"Really? Because that thing looks Human to me!" He tuts, crossing his arms.

After testing, it was found that you were biologically a child of theirs. You were the first child, and this made them fear the idea of all their children looking like a human. When your sibling came along, long ears and tail, they immediately picked a favourite. You never got attention from them, being ignored when you did something good, and your sibling was always praised. You grew to hate everything that you didn't have. The fact your parents were neglecting you socially because of the fact you didn't visibly look like you were part of the same species as them. Your sibling had the same close minded opinion that your parents had, judging you because you didn't look like they were your family.

You applied for jobs, and almost all places denied you when your parents decided to get their "superior child" to apply as well. Your sibling always got the offer, you being rejected, and you were beginning to fear the prospect of being unemployed and being used as an example.

To your pleasure, however, you were accepted for a position as a trainee forest ranger. You leap on the chance, not bothering to tell your parents as you packed a bag and left after checking you had all of your necessary papers.

You see Master Tighnari, and you immediately felt like he was your soulmate. You were so drawn to him, and he didn't seem to know about your unfortunate situation with your family. Sure, he was sassy and borderline rude in certain situations, but you grew to like this side of him.

--

Your dad had shown up in the forest when you and Tighnari were on patrol.

"Ah, Master Tighnari!" Your father calls out, you immediately flinching before turning to leave. Tighnari grabs your shoulder, effectively stopping you. "I'm here for the order of mushrooms you promised me."

"Of course. _, fetch the crates for me while I explain what not to use these mushrooms for." Tighnari asks.

"No." You protest, crossing your arms.

"Excuse me?" Tighnari laughs out, shocked at your response.

"I'm not doing that for him of all people." You eye your father up and down.

"Why not? Whats so different about this man? The fact he has big ears? A big tail?" Tighnari tuts. "You might want to get your eyes tested, because I have those features as well."

"Such a bigoted brat." Your father tuts, you realising what he was trying to do. You walk away, hearing Tighnari apologise for your actions before calling for someone to collect the crates.

That night, Tighnari walked towards you with a fire in his eyes.

"What on earth was that about?" Tighnari asks. "Are you prejudiced towards my kind? I thought better of you, I truly did." He huffs, holding his finger up the moment you open your mouth to explain your situation. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to write you up for this. This is not appropriate, you are supposed to assist people regardless of how they were born."

Before you can explain anything, Tighnari walks away shaking his head.

--

"What do you mean, 'you need more proof you are in need of this medication'?" You gasp, the seller of the medicine you needed to take to avoid your animalistic heats to work as usual.

"Well, we've had people reselling for significantly higher prices I'm afraid to say." The seller shrugs. "You look human, and paperwork can easily be falsified."

You look down at your paper proving your parents were both the species you were, along with the bloodwork to prove it. How come this was no longer effective evidence with this guy? You bought from him multiple times, and this is the time he decides to change it?

--

"Get an earful of this!" Tighnari grumbles, Cyno next to him. "'Im afraid my heat is starting'? They are human, it's utterly pathetic that they're using a valid reason for my kind!"

"...May I have a look at this?" Cyno asks. Tighnari nods, and Cyno pulls out a piece of paper to compare against the letter. "Keep an open mind, Tighnari. You don't have all the information."

"You're telling me to keep an open mind when they're the one to be such a bigot?" Tighnari raises a brow, Cyno shrugging before leaving for his work.

The next day, you were unable to get out of bed. Wanting to scream at how hot you felt in the moment, wanting to cry because you wanted to get some sort of comfort from someone, wanting to call out for Tighnari as if he was your mate. You're wrapped up in a bundle of blankets, none of them creating any comfort for you. You scream into your pillow, thinking of the days you'll be suffering alone from this. You would be lucky if anyone brought you supplies to get through this, let alone Tighnari.

Meanwhile, Tighnari had picked up on a particularly strong odour. It wasn't unpleasant, it drew him in, but he was confused when he sensed it coming from your house. As much as he wanted to come along to at least see if you were lazing around like he suspected, he had to deal with several emergencies.

It takes him two days to complete this, and in that time the scent grew stronger and you still hadn't shown up. He picks up some supplies - water, food, medicine - before telling the team he's going along to check on you.

He approaches the door, hearing you crying out in pain. You were clearly suffering, and he looked into the window to see you were curled up as tightly as you could. You couldn't create tears, dry crying as you were silently screaming for any assistance. After assessing the room and realising you lived alone and nobody else was there, he begins to connect the dots Cyno seemed to know from the start.

He opens the door, you looking up out of shock as you see him approaching you. His scent is euphoric for you, and you really had to hold yourself back from pulling him in for comfort.

Tighnari prioritised hydrating and feeding you before sitting on the bed, pulling you in to start hugging you. He feels you gripping at him, and he looks over at a paper that glided down to the floor. The paperwork contained your mother and father's names, and he realised the true reason you didn't help that man.

"That was your dad that day, wasn't it?" Tighnari asked, you nodding as you held him close.

"I'm sorry, I know I should have explained my circumstances the first day I was here." You whimper out, Tighnari wrapping his tail around you. "I went to get my medication, but they changed their policies. My paperwork isn't enough now, I have to physically prove it now." You cry out, Tighnari kissing you on the cheek.

"I'm going to stay with you to get you through his cycle." Tighnari explains, holding you closer as he begins to place his head into the crook of your neck.

"... I'm going to need more than a cuddle session to get through this." You sheepishly admit, Tighnari smirking knowingly.

"Of course you will." Tighnari responds. "And I, as a partner, am going to get you through this."

--

After your cycle was past its worst, Tighnari was able to give you the medicine you normally took to suppress these symptoms. He also pulled some strings to order some extra medicine after explaining your special circumstances. When your father next showed up, Tighnari made sure he wouldn't insult you for being a 'defective child'.

Your parents, eventually, discovered you became very close to Tighnari. They can't help but show up, asking Tighnari if he knew you were an 'abnormal individual', and you hear Tighnari slapping them on the head with logic. He did some research, and it turns out you just happened to be born with a recessive gene that removed the physical features - you were still very much a hybrid like him. He hands your parents the references he used, telling them to educate themselves before talking down about their child.

Tighnari became your mate, and it was the best thing that could have happened to you. He, unlike your parents, educated himself when he was alerted to your situation. Cyno had actually been a big part of finding the research, him being the first one to figure out your situation since he spotted you getting your medication the cycle before the one you were unable to do so. Cyno became your friend as well, defending you when someone started badmouthing you when you and Tighnari became public.

[anonauthorsworkshop]

Can we have a scenario with all the lords of alagadda just reacting to mc suddenly teleporting to their territory again and randomly arguing with 035 while running away?

this is a borderline crackpost but i don’t care because i wanted to have fun with it. kindaaa ooc oknoitdefinitelyis

enjoy!

-

035 was seething. You could easily tell; black goop was pouring out of the mask's every orifice in waves, dripping down his host's neck and spilling onto his attire. You take a glance at his ensemble, which was no longer a simple researcher's uniform, but a grandiose tailcoat with ruffled cuffs. (...The outfit change may or may not have been your doing).

He looks at you with pure, unadulterated rage. Intermittent beads of sweat roll down the side of your cheek. His glaring causes a sudden urge to explain yourself, and so you decide to speak. You open your mouth very, very slowly.

A voice in the distance murmurs a skeptical inquiry.

“Shouldn’t we just-“

“Hush, Yellow." The Red Lord practically slaps a hand onto the face, or rather, mask, of his confidant. It effectively shuts him up, albeit only for a moment. "We are spying on them!”

Yellow grumbles, recoiling from the unwanted contact. “…You know well that if White were here, they would report this," he makes a grand gesture toward the unseemly duo, "to the Ambassador right away.”

“Oh," Red scoffs, waving Yellow's doubtful words away with a hand. He turns to the side, resumes his observation of your antics, and kicks his legs back and forth, not unlike a giggly schoolgirl would. "Just hush and focus on them!”

Yellow follows Red's gaze and looks on with cynical eyes.

035's words come out sharp. "Why did you come here again?" His fists are shaking, and you wince at how deep he digs his fingernails into his palm. "Moreover, bring me with you?"

You rub your hands together nervously, averting eye contact. "Well, I haven't seen Amingvolvin in quite a while. I wanted to give them a gift." Wobbily, your gaze moves upward to meet his. "And, I kind of- may have, accidentally ran into you? As I was about to teleport?"

You are unable to accurately gauge his reaction. 035 is still.

...

“That’s it." He finally says in disbelief. "That’s the reason.”

"Well, I guess-"

Abruptly, 035 moves toward you with overpowering intent. You flinch and stumble backward. At this point, you fully expected him to just punch you, but your body relaxes as you inspect him closer. His fists clench and unclench with what is undoubtedly anger, however, something tells you that he cannot bring, could never bring himself to project that emotion onto you.

You watch as his hands fully unclench, and he slumps his shoulders in what seems to be acceptance.

"Let us focus on leaving this place."

"O-of course!" You perk up with a stammer, surprised by his switch in attitude. "We've done this before, we can do it again."

035 sighs, and steps closer to grab you by the hand. "You really ought to be more careful. Every time that I find you, you are always involved in some dreadful sort of mess..."

It is at the moment when his fingers touch yours that something inside Red crackles, and it bursts into flaming jealousy. He stands up suddenly, and the ends of his robes intimidatingly flare out to the sides like a predator threatening its prey. There is a low, deep bellow which he emits that makes his presence known.

Yellow turns to Red, exasperated. He had to admit, he did not find it exactly pleasant to watch the former Anguished Lord's hand make contact with yours, but...

"I thought you wanted to keep a LOW profile?!"

At this, you dart your head toward the two Lords with wide, panicked eyes. Your mouth slams shut, and you grab 035's right arm to drag him along with you, but it slips out of your grip, detaches from his shoulder, and promptly falls to the floor.

...

You reach over frantically at 035's remaining left arm, hauling him beside you and sprinting away into the depths of Alagadda’s Euclidean landscape.

[sai-lec]

The Internet Tifosi

an informal reflection of online fan spaces by me, a recent member of the tifosi.

I love being part of the tifosi. I love the colour red. I love seeing the passion of the tifosi at races. I love Charles. I love Carlos. I love watching races and highlights from old team lineups I love the greats like Schumacher and Lauda and Prost I love Ferrari.

My path in f1 didnt start with Ferrari, it started with McLaren- my dad is a huge McLaren fan, he introduced me to Lando (and Carlos but primarily Lando) in lockdown and sure it didnt click with me right away; I watched some races with him, he showed me the highlights from the races I didnt watch with him (including several videos of Grosjean's infamous crash) and despite the fact that I wasn't heavily invested it gave us something to bond over. That September when I left home for university it gave us a reason to call each other. When I developed a genuine interest (after I decided I wasn't coming back home after I graduate university) my dad wasn't bothered by the fact that I had shown up at Christmas with a Ferrari hat on, in fact he took it off my head and tried it on himself; "do I look good as a Sainz fan?". From my dad introducing me to Lando, Carlos was the natural next step in immersing myself into the fan community. From Carlos, we found Charles and the Tifosi. I don't have many (or any) friends in real life with the same level of interest in Formula 1 that I have developed, naturally I found myself creating this blog hoping to find a community within online spaces that wasn't available to me in the digital world.

My experience within the tifosi has been... unique, to say the least. I have been engaged in online fan spaces since I was around 14- I made my Tumblr account in 2016 to talk about supernatural, before moving on to buzzed unsolved, and marvel and so on as my interests developed and changed. Within each of these communities I have found a group of people that I felt comfortable around enough to call them genuine friends. some of whom I still keep in contact with despite the fact that our interests have changed. that hasn't quite happened to the same extent with the internet's Tifosi; and there is a multitude of reasons why.

The 'Versus' Predicament

To be rather blunt for a moment- I have never been part of a community that has been filled with so much vitriol for other members, and I was part of the Marvel fandom when Civil War was released (team cap). In fact, it seem that the tifosi are constantly engaged in a Civil War of their own- devoted fans of Charles as the self-labelled Lecfosi and Team55 practically always appear to be at odds with each other. And publicly so.

It is natural for people to have a favourite driver- we've just discussed how ive come to find myself as a devotee to Team55. But as with other areas, fan spaces have seen negative impact in communication due to internet dependancy in recent years.

From my perspective, the issue appears to be a mixture of cancel culture and virtue signalling. Now cancel culture is in itself a manifestation of virtue signalling in which creators or whomever else face mass criticism and attempted deplatforming as the internet becomes aware of potentially problematic past or present behaviour; however given its internet context and usage I've elected to view it as a separate entity.

Internet fan spaces have regressed to a state of defensiveness- in order to promote and validate your approval of one subject you must justify why in comparison to another. This is where the effects of cancel culture come into play. Cancel culture reached its peak performativity during quarantine as the internet and social media became the primary method of protesting and spreading awareness of activism whilst maintaining social distancing and quarantining requirements. As morality became monitored and policed by a younger and younger average user base, it is natural that there was a bastardisation of the phenomenon resultant in the mass cancelling and calling out of any person who spoke or acted in a manner that wasn't deemed correct; not necessarily related to politics or activism at this point, I myself received an influx of mass hatred and cancellations to the point where I was borderline shunned by an entire gaming community for making a joke about everyone hating one of the event mini games ('whats everyones favourite game and why is it not buildmart').

This same mindset is so visibly present within the Tifosi today- both extremes find themselves comparing one driver to the other in order to justify their favour. For example, tensions have been high with Lecfosi and Team55 almost in a panicked state looking to justify why they chose to support their favourite driver with 'Carlos is gifted every achievement Charles would have beaten him if he wasn't held back ' and 'Ferrari fired the wrong driver' filling the comments of Ferrari's Instagram and Twitter posts. This has prompted fans to flock to defend their preferred driver, often in ways which contribute to the animosity. Drivers face this pseudo-cancellation as a result with twitter bios seeing additions of 'Carlos fans din' 'if you like CL16 unfollow me' after every race. Criticisms of the drivers themselves increase, they are placed under heavier scrutiny as the violence between fans increases leading to a never-ending circle of driver-to-fan hatred. it is seen as almost a moral failure within fan spaces to support the wrong driver.

I, personally, have witnessed arguments between fans in comment sections on tiktok- the most memorable being a 'share your favourite driver and why' tiktok in which a Carlos fan received comments of 'Well you know Charles is actually better because x y z'. (I'd like to point out this is not an antagonisation of Charles fans, but this is what actually happened nor am I excusing Team55 from the ability to make similar comment). The notable point here is that Charles was never mentioned, yet the mere fact of someone else preferring the wrong driver in this commenter's eyes lead to them purposefully targeting another Ferrai fan to chastise them on their decision effectively boiling the interaction down to 'you're not allowed to support this driver because I don't like him'.

This is where virtue signalling comes into play. For those unaware, virtue signalling is the public expression of opinion with the intent of alignment with a moral correctness. The internet especially in fanbases weaponises that frequently through the examples of 'dni of you support x' as discussed prior. The followup to that mindset is the feeling of requirement to discuss. For example, when a driver races poorly or is subjected to penalty, fan spaces will see an influx of posts demanding fans to defend their driver (How can you support him when he drives like that), mass criticising the driver (he doesn't deserve his seat why isn't he fired), or public statement of disapproval because of the social requirement to misalign yourself with the incorrect actions of another person without genuine belief behind the statement as oftentimes excuses will be made for their preferred person in a similar situation. At times it appears that the primary interaction of some people within the Tifosi is to engage in critical commentary on their disliked drivers.

Criticism? Or extreme negativity?

With call out and cancel culture leaving the political sphere it has severely impacted the positivity of fanbases as criticism becomes a primary, almost necessary, aspect of fan culture. Of course we talk about critical consumption in which you are able to analyse and evaluate the content which we consume and become aware of its biases and flaws, however this has snowballed to become criticise everything you consume. Thus, the animosity of the fan spaces rises once more.

Of course every driver is bound to face warranted criticism- the majority of the grid are socially unaware rich white men, they are destined to say or do something worth criticising. They are bound to say bitchy things and act in ways that you don't agree with because that is just the nature of humanity, everyone does these things. But that does not mean every single one of their actions are worth dissecting under the microscope. And the prevalent attitude of analysing drivers mannerisms, behaviours emotions and heat-of-the-moment radios and comments doesn't display the analytical eye a lot of people think it does.

A lot of attitudes in the 2024 spaces that I have personally seen have centred a Carlos negativity- there have been dire criticisms of the journalistic bias towards him across the first 3 races of the year. Of course, if you don't like him then you're bound to be tired of hearing about him. But what I found interesting was the theories being circulated that he was paying his way into the media or that there was a behind-the-scenes scheme to keep media interest on him. Now, a lot of people perceived this to be a theory based on the culture surrounding Sainz's family wealth and his father's influence when in reality it was likely to be because of the increased interest around his circumstances going into the season- no seat for 2025, rumoured negotiations with several teams, surgery and first non Red Bull win of the season. to analyse this situation critically is not to say 'well there must be a secret reason and I will investigate' but to recognise that journalism is reliant on attention grabbing headlines- a man with no job and no appendix winning a race while still in the post-surgery recovery period is exactly the kind of narrative that will garner clicks. It would have been the same had it have been any other driver in that specific set of circumstances. There is a difference between critical thinking and assumptive analyses and oftentimes they can become conflated in the desire to prove a point.

This is the issue- a lot of people engage analytically with media in order to suggest a particular narrative. Every person is subject to bias, and when that bias is unchecked it can lead to a lot of analysis that are reliant on theory, speculation and assumption in order to maintain the subconscious perspective of the writer. This is why we see a lot of people use demeaning nicknames towards Charles on twitter an simultaneously view Carlos as undeserving in instagram comments- the integral points of their perspective on the driver rest on the moments which will develop their narrative view of the driver as the lesser. Critical engagement cannot rest solely on one the positive or the negative, otherwise you failing to engage critically by cherry picking a perspective in order to maintain a narrative. That is tabloid journalism, or gossip, at best.

I Am In Misery

It is also just not healthy for you as a fan to consistently engage in negative commentary and discourse. I mean that seriously this is a PSA if your fan engagement sees your negative criticism and commentary of your disliked driver outweigh the time you spend enjoying your interest then you need to take a step back and reassess how you want to participate because that is not sustainable for your mental wellbeing.

This is not to say that you must never hate, you must never criticise or say anything bad about someone we all do it- it's natural. But you have to ask yourself if you truly enjoy using another driver to uplift your favourite. Aren't his accomplishments enough to validate him alone?

Ive noticed a complete lack of will to celebrate- in my inbox right now are maybe around 15 asks all talking about how I shouldn't be happy with this weekends performance or else I dont understand F1. I argue the inverse,

I understand F1. I understand that this weekend was not the best performance Ferrari had to offer. I understand the impact of the team racing each other and Carlos' aggression during the sprint. And I have mentioned as much. However, I choose to focus on the positive aspects of the weekend. The tyre management from both drivers was impeccable to gain 2 positions each and maintain them finishing on tyres that were 40 laps old. They made an excellent recovery from the mishaps in qualifying that ultimately earned the team and themselves more points. We maintain 2nd in the constructors championship and 3rd and 4th in the drivers. There are issues that need to be discussed and resolved but ultimately this is not the worlds worst performance.

F1 is entertainment. I want to win, I want to succeed but I also want to be entertained. My mental health has seen a series uptick since I decided to directly seek entertainment. Sure, the drivers shouldn't have been racing the way they were, it had the potential to put both cars in a detrimental position, but it sure does make things more interesting!!! There's almost a sense of parasocialism within the community- a lot of people are hesitant to look for relief beyond the emotions of their favourite driver, and subsequently view every race as a failure in some aspect (just outside of the podium, on the podium but not p1, could've done better if it wasn't for xyz) and that negatively affects their experience as a fan and for other fans who don't share that perspective. It's almost like people have forgotten to enjoy the race, they're so preoccupied with looking for something to criticise.

Now this isn't to say you're not allowed to enjoy critical assessments of the success of races. But thats not what the majority of us are posting (it might be what some of you think you're posting, but you're not). I love watching video essays on races that are done properly with acknowledgement and awareness of bias. I don't love reading posts along the lines of 'why this race actually sucked' (not a real example) because it's not built from an analytical or critical perspective, just a discussion of the race and outcome through a lens of destructive pessimism.

End

This behaviour isn't specific to the Tifosi, it's an internet wide phenomenon. But I've chosen to directly comment on it here because as I said, I've never sen a community with so much hatred for itself. As of 2024, we are all on the same team right now. We have the right to hold our own opinions of the drivers and express those. We do not have the right to argue on the validity of other fans preferences, we do not have the right to directly enter fan spaces (ie the main tags) and spread destructive negativity about a driver nor do we have the right to harass blogs for whom they chose to support.

The inherent negativity is so calamitous to the community. It perpetuates the infighting, it furthers the negative narratives we have constructed of drivers, it only contributes to divide the community as both sides earn reputations of being toxic towards each other. And to an extent, yes . It is true, and that is disappointing. You have the right to choose your favourite driver. However, Charles and Carlos are both talented drivers- there is no need to drag one down to uplift the other. It is instigating behaviour and I'm sure a lot of people comment in that manner purposefully.

Be aware of your parasocial connection to a driver. if you find yourself criticising a driver for an action that you would not criticise your favourite for executing ask yourself why you view the action as negative circumstantially. If you are only able to assess races based on what could have happened, what better could have happened then ask yourself if you find this enriching; do you leave race weekends feeling good and excited for the next race or soured because things might have been better under different circumstances. Don't ignore the problems, acknowledge them and say but what are the positives as opposed to letting the failures undermine the successes.

just have a bit of fucking fun once in a while PLEASE .

as an endnote: I do recognise that the majority of insights and examples I have given in this reflection have been at the expense of team 55, again I would like to reiterate that as someone who primarily finds themself in 55 spaces I a naturally experience a greater exposure to negativity towards that driver as it usually tends to be maintagged or sent directly to myself or other 55 centric blogs. Just as the CL16 community is more likely to be exposed to and remember hatred towards Charles. In no way am I insinuating that 55 fans are incapable of or have not acted in the the same nature, to Charles' detriment. The toxicity remains prevalent on both extremes of the community.

this is a mass response to the people in my inbox thank you for your patience I didnt want to answer like 15 different asks about everything in slightly different ways

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Cobbler

Cordelia wasn't supposed to be a pirate. Most pirates weren't, of course, but she imagined that they'd started out as sailors or thieves and transitioned in one direction or the other. For her part, she'd only been a cobbler, a mender of old boots: she'd never stolen nor sailed at all, let alone served as a buccaneering captain. But this ship had needed a crew, and so she'd cobbled one together. 

It was all in aid of the mission, or so the prophets had explained. The Caterian Empire had hung for too long like a shadow across their coastline, lurking just across the water from the town where Cordelia had been born, raised, and hoped to one day retire, if they survived this voyage of the damned. Their island was small, and couldn't muster much of an army to slow the Empire's ravenous advance, which had already consumed so many of their peers.

But it could muster her - and she'd pulled together the rest.

"Why have you come to me?" she'd protested at the time, when the prophets appeared at her door. Cordelia had understood their warnings of imminent doom, the threat of conquest, the need for a chosen one to defeat the evil once and for all - she just hadn't understood why that meant her. "I'm not a soldier. I'm a shoemaker, for crying out loud. I'm not the sort of person who wins battles."

"Well, that's sort of the point," one of the prophets had replied, knocking one of a pair of boots off the shelf behind him. "Are you familiar with the concept of langrage?"

"Not unless that's you struggling to speak ours."

"It's a nautical term," he continued, ignoring her. "When a ship runs out of conventional shot, it loads its guns with whatever lies handy: nuts and bolts, cutlery and clockwork, anything that might tear an opposing sail to shreds. Even shoes, in a pinch. Sometimes they even do it by choice, a cannonade of loose ephemera over your traditional balls of steel."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Cordelia stood firm, demonstrating some of the latter. "Why are you in my home? What do you want from me?"

"We've studied the histories," another said, and from the lines around his eyes she believed him. "Any sufficiently potent evil, your archetypical dark lord or dragon, is always defeated by a motley band of unlikely heroes. Always and only. The soldiers on their own can't make it all the way. We don't know why, but something about having a mixture of backgrounds and skillsets works out better."

"Many organisations have found they benefit from diverse hiring practices," the first prophet said. "Why not an army?"

The other shoe dropped, and Cordelia leant against a wall, momentarily deflated. "You want to build an army... of people like me?"

"Well, sort of."

"A load of old cobblers?"

"We thought so too, but it checks out." The prophet paused to stack the boots back up. "But the point is to find people who aren't like you. A real assortment of profiles, you know? Think about all the tools you use in your craft, the rasp and last and awl and all of that. Each serves a different function. That's the sort of effect we're going for."

"But who, specifically?" she asked, still wondering why they'd chosen her. Perhaps they hadn't, and just knocked on a random door. "How will you decide upon this perfect, random mix?"

"Well," they said. "We were rather hoping that you would."

Cordelia tried her best to follow their approach. If she was planning this endeavour of her own accord - perhaps after some trauma to the head - she knew that there were certain people she'd look to recruit for her crew, and others who she wouldn't trust to scrub the decks. But if the prophets had chosen her house at random, she would have to do the same.

Her list of customers was a solidly mixed assortment of potential allies, and she thought about drawing names from a hat, before realising that she already had them in order: she had a schedule of commissions, and figured she'd just press-gang those who'd come to her. It would mean acting out a reverse Cinderella: choosing anyone who had a shoe that didn't fit.

She had to start somewhere, so she started with those who already owed her for repairs, including Aldous, the actor whose boots had been shelved by the door. A career of treading the boards had worn them down. She wondered how he'd feel about walking the plank.

"I've got your boots," she said, once he opened the door. There was no time for pleasantries. They'd have plenty of chance to catch up on the open seas.

"Ah, wonderful." He beamed for his audience of one. "You know, costumes come and go, but you absolutely cannot beat a comfy pair of shoes. One does so much of one's work on one's feet, and people really do underestimate-"

"Speaking of which," she interrupted, wishing to be spared the soliloquy. "Are you in the market for a new role?"

"Well, one would never rule oneself out at first blush, so to say, at least without-"

"Excellent. It's yours."

"Mine? I mean, one's? But what is it?"

"First mate."

"A nautical tale?"

"A pirate adventure."

"Oh, how marvellous! Yes, one always fancied oneself as a swashbuckler, but of course such roles are rare nowadays. When do we start rehearsals?"

"The ship is being readied as we speak. We leave at dawn, two days for now." Then, because it was important to maintain a sense of fun. "Please bring your own costume."

It hadn't been how she'd pictured it, until the prophets had explained. The Caterian Empire was a fortress, their borders well-defended, and even a small band of adventurers would struggle to sneak all the way into the palace at its heart. But sea was a different matter, and every now and again the Emperor found the need to travel to one vassal isle or the next, placing himself uniquely vulnerable to attack.

"If you challenge them under the flags of this island, there will be reprisals here first," they'd said. "But under a black flag, you can operate in the shadows. Befriend the others who live there, if you can. Form a pirate fleet, guerrillas of the sea, chipping away at the Empire's naval strength. If they can't leave the mainland, their armies are irrelevant. That is how you'll win."

"By starting at a disadvantage."

"The heroes always do. They're never under an official flag, the admiral of their own armada. They're rogues, rascals, underdogs against overwhelming odds. The less likely your victory, the more inevitable it will be."

Cordelia's next recruit came to her, which was convenient, although she wouldn't have chosen her in a million years. Janina worked in the citrus orchards, and was famously all fingers and thumbs with anything smaller than a clementine, but she just about managed to knock on the door with a pair of shoes in her other hand.

"I'm sorry to bother you with this," he said, handing one over with some gratitude. "But I'm afraid I've done something awful to the laces. They'd unravelled when I came to put them on this morning, and I seem to have made more of a mess trying to rethread them. Sorry, I know it's a difficult one."

"Mhm." Cordelia held her tongue, and inspected the eyelets around it. She didn't know much about sailing, but she suspected a pirate's life involved some quantity of ropes and knots. If she was choosing a crew from her customers, she might choose those who tied the neatest bows. But the prophets had stressed the hodgepodge nature of successful groups, thrown together by fate. She would have to trust in the randomness of shoe entropy.

"Oh, thank you so much," Janina said, once the first aglet was successfully laced back through. "I don't know what I'd do without your help. Is there anything I can do to make it worth your while?"

"Funny you should say that," Cordelia said. "I'm looking for a quartermaster, and a bulk order of oranges. have some concerns about scurvy."

So it was that she formed her makeshift crew. Aldous and Janina were followed by Leonore, a smith whose steel toecaps had come loose, and Florian, a draper who had simply lost his sole. As the prophets had insisted, they were a diverse mix of characters as well as trades. Leonore was a pillar of the community, as straight-laced as they came, whereas Florian had been a misfit his whole life - although Cordelia had given him some insoles to help with that.

"Have you ever made a sail before?" she asked, making her own stitches where the rubber had come away.

"I have many customers," he said, taken aback.

"No - I mean for a ship. I'm looking to commission one. I'll need help with the installation, too."

"Oh, well. Yes, I could certainly help with that."

She felt a bit of a heel, fixing his shoe for so great a cost, weaving him into her multicoloured tapestry. None of these people knew how to fight, or sail; life at sea would be hard for them, even without the dangers of rebellion . But she was in the same boat, and supposedly that was the point. They were bystanders turned to weapons: collateral damage that went the other way, a human sword instead of a shield. That was what the prophets said would work.

So it was they assembled two days later, arrayed across the deck like cards of different suits. The prophets had arranged the ship, and dubbed it in her honour: the Shoemaker’s Levy, for the rabble she'd been able to rouse. Not the island's most seaworthy individuals, nor the most skilled, but those who'd had the most trouble walking on land.

Those who hadn't already been assigned were quickly shoehorned into roles, but it would take a while before they could be called a crew. Even Cordelia would struggle to adjust to life as their captain: she'd always been a sole practitioner, only used to working with winklepickers and brothelcreepers, not actors and blacksmiths and the rest. She wasn't supposed to be a pirate, let alone their leader. But they would have to learn the ropes together, just as she'd once learnt about shoes. One foot after the other. One step at a time.

[matchahater]

“What the hell?” Kyle demands, slamming Jason’s apartment door behind them. Jason figures his neighbors are pretty used to that sound by now. “You wanna give me a warning next time you’re about to shoot somebody in front of me?”

“You didn’t stop me,” Jason says. He accepts that this will be an argument, sees the opening and slots his words through it. It's easy to twist them in the right way. “You got a problem with how I do things?”

Kyle scowls at him, tearing off his mask and slapping it down on the table. He could just take the ring off, Jason thinks, but that wouldn’t have any dramatic effect. “Are you trying to talk about morality with me right now? Seriously? You executed that guy. I don’t need to be associated with that shit, in front of witnesses-”

“You wanted to take him to jail?” Jason raises his eyebrows, digging in. “Where he’d rot for the rest of his natural life? You think that’s better?”

Kyle’s jaw works as he rests a hand against the tabletop, dark eyes still meeting Jason’s. “You're not a judge or a jury, Jason. Neither am I. It’s not our job-”

“Bullshit,” Jason retorts, breaking into a bitter smile. He knows Kyle doesn’t really believe that, no matter how holy he wants to pretend he is. “You think I didn’t know that guy was a trafficker? You think I didn’t have evidence? You and I are far more prepared to deliver justice than the state ever was, and you know it.” He leans back against the wall, sizing Kyle up, and relishes the irritation on his face. “What's justice look like to you, huh? How many chances should he have gotten?"

“We’re not talking hypotheticals,” Kyle snaps, making a sweeping gesture with an arm. He’s talking with his hands again, the way he does when he’s upset. “You can’t know what would’ve happened to him. You can’t know what the victims would’ve wanted.”

“You think you’re better than me." Jason folds his arms, feeling the cheap plaster flake onto his jacket. “But I’ve already thought through every moral dilemma about taking a life. I don’t regret a thing.” He cocks his head. “Does that bother you?”

“I don’t think I’m better than you,” Kyle says through gritted teeth. He does take the ring off, then, as if to emphasize his point. His costume flickers out of view as he sets the thing on the table. Now there are two men in the room. “I’m not Batman, asshole. I’ve killed people.”

“And I bet you’re so fucking broken up about it.” Jason rolls his eyes and pulls out the chair in front of him, taking a seat. They both know that move. He’s settling in for a long argument.

Kyle glares at the ceiling like he wants to punch a hole in it. He could, if he wanted to - but Jason’s willing to bet he doesn’t have the money to pay damages. “You really get on my fucking nerves, y’know that?”

Jason laughs sharply. “Then why do you keep showing up to my apartment, Rayner?”

It takes Kyle a long second to pull out the chair across from him, and another one to sit down, like every movement that gets him closer to Jason is physically painful. Jason can admit it’s a little bit glorious. “You can do whatever you want,” Kyle says finally, staring at the ring on the table. “But you don’t get to pretend you’re better than me, either. I know you feel a sense of responsibility too. It’s not my fault we've had different fucking life experiences.”

Jason presses his lips together. Even he’s not a big enough asshole to dig at Kyle about Alex. “I just think,” he says slowly, trying to soften his tone just a little, “that you decided you know what kind of person you are, and that it’s not the same kind as me. But I’ve seen you in action, Rayner.” He leans forward slightly, nodding at the ring. “That thing makes you do shit you never thought you’d be able to do. And I’m not talking about your magic tricks.”

Kyle’s eyes slide vacantly to the wall behind him, and Jason knows he’s toed a line. He won’t know if he’s crossed it unless Kyle gets up and leaves. “I wish I never fucking met you,” Kyle says coolly.

Jason didn’t expect that to hurt. “Because I make you think deeply about your actions?” he retorts, trying to numb the sting. “God forbid you think too hard about anything you do, or your head might explode from the complexity of your moral code. Jesus Christ.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Kyle passes a hand over his face, rubbing hard at the bridge of his nose. “Can you stop psychoanalyzing me for two goddamn seconds, Jason?”

Jason watches him try to force the anger out of his body. “Not my fault I’m perceptive,” he says. He backs down.

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Kyle says flatly, dropping his hand to rest it on the table.

"Seriously?" Regardless of how easily they piss each other off, there are times when Jason feels like Kyle is the one person, the only one who gets where he's coming from. Thrust into a situation out of his control. They know each other, like it or not. They make sense. “You had a traumatic experience, and it made you realize that the universe doesn’t give a shit about anyone," he says, trying to take the venom out of his voice. It takes up too much space in the small room. "So you decided to become the person that gave a shit.” He shrugs slightly. "Not that different from what happened to me."

Kyle’s still for a long moment. Jason wonders if they’ll actually end in agreement, this time. Then he shakes his head. “You’re so obsessed with the idea that we’re the same,” he says slowly. “That you finally have somebody who's gonna relate to you. Fine, Jason. You get me.” His eyes are indecipherable as he gets to his feet. “But I don’t understand you at all.”

[falconcoast]

As a uni student, what about how both y/n and tighnari cope with the weeks before finals and finals week? Its actual hell where professors give out hard quizzes pre-exams (in my case) and assignments with unrealistic deadlines :<

college au vi | tighnari x reader

masterlist

you and tighnari are almost out of the woods for this semester. emphasis on almost. your professors aren't going to let you off easily. you and tighnair decide to cope as best you can.

a/n: dedicated to ME because i had: two physics tests, a make-up AP test, the worst calc final in the history of calc finals, a book to finish in ten days, an essay, and a shit ton of extracurriculars in the last two weeks. this drabble is on the shorter side for that reason. for my babes still working their asses off: you got this i believe in you!

one of the greatest features of your shared apartment with tighnari is your giant, weekly whiteboard calendar. it sits above your couch in your living room, noting every little project, assignment, study session, and due date. with two more weeks left to go, the calendar is an absolute mess of green and blue markers.

tighnari places a book over his eyes, groaning and slowly slinking his body down the living room couch. his variously shaded folders were scattered on one half of the coffee table. the other was a smattering of assorted papers, all trying to accomplish one more essay before the end of the semester.

"i swear, steric effect has never and will never relate to the functions of biology or plant sciences. i hate organic chemistry!" he blurted, throwing the book down.

"oy, don't treat your books like that. i know that thing costs at least five million mora," you scold softly. relenting, you sigh. "but you're right. it's unfair that all of our professors decided to dump our work right now. my statistics quiz went awfully because i was studying for my public speaking class. who the hell needs to know all thirteen logical fallacies for a communications class?!"

"here, i've been studying for way too long. i'll go make us a snack, and then we can take a break later, okay?" he pets your head as he heads to the kitchen.

you slump by your laptop, looking over your essay again. you knew that college course loads were going to be difficult, but your english professor assigning an essay yesterday and making it due two days after was absolutely ridiculous. and after this, you still had your history final on thursday, and three more analysis paragraphs for critical argumentation class, and--

you think you are going to die before you make it to the end of the semester.

tighnari comes back as you correct a few more spelling errors and cite a few more sources. he sets down a mug of tea in front of you, alongside some fresh fruit. sighing, he looks at the clock. "we've been doing nothing but study and go to class for the last five days. we should go to bed now."

you yawn at the suggestion, feeling that coffee you took at seven PM wearing off. "no, no, i gotta stay awake. this stupid paper is more important."

"your paper won't be worth anything if you oversleep tomorrow."

you blink once or twice at that remark slowly. if you were a little less sleepy, you would bark out some sarcastic response. instead, you sip the rest of your tea and lean back on the couch. you blink slower, and slower yet.

as your vision goes dark, you can hear tighnari sigh a little. "exhausted, i see. we'll have to incorporate some stress relieving tactics the rest of this week. healthy snacks, a run, peaceful music, and a long overdue nap is imminent," he murmurs, as if diagnosing you. he settles next to you, placing a blanket over both of your shoulders.

as you begin to sleep, he swears that your lips twitch up in a smile as you tilt to press against his chest.

[cartoon-cass]

So decided to take an in depth look at the new teaser trailer and share what I found.

We start at the elevator we saw in the last teaser image we got, just not with the ominous yellow light. it seems like there's blood or oil on the carpeted floor, and slashes on the walls. Where the seemingly natural light is coming from doesn't fit the architecture of the rest of the hallway, looking industrial, honestly though the hallway is the one that looks out of place, looking more like something that belongs to the Elliot Manor, not sure what that means for the episode but thought it important to mention.

Pulling out a bit further we see disassembled disassembly drones, specifically the male body type (or what most people call the male body type we can't exactly be sure with only 3 disassembly drones). there is something on the tv but for the life of me I can't read that tiny red text. Turning back on the architect it seems to follow the manor look with some industrial bits peaking out.

Moving up a level we seemingly end up in a receptionist room for JCJenson, it doesn't have the IN SPAAAAACEE!!!! though. In the background disassembly drones, seemingly the "female" ones though, and something I just noticed while writing they all seem to be missing heads, I couldn't see any heads anywhere. and writing on the walls, saying "don't look down" or "don't don't look", along with claw scratches.

Up one more we get an office cubicle with a computer open on it's desktop. we also see a computer mouse and a spiral notebook with something on it, maybe a mug or a can? Nothing scary I can see other then the horror that is cubicle farms.

Yet an other cubicle farm with the sound effect of a crying baby of all things? Uzi backstory maybe? Anyway we see 2 Camp 98.7 drones both with loading icons on their visors, which I believe we've never seen before other then when Uzi was talking to N and V in episode 2 but that was only in the corner and her eyes were still on. There seems to be oil on the ground too.

So this is the scene most people are freaking out about. A dinosaur looking thing, while it looks mostly organic from the shadow it does have 2 wires from the back of it's head to it's neck and 2 wires from under the chin to it's neck. There seems to be blood or oil on the ground here too. Also anyone else getting jurassic park vibes from this scene?

I think these 2 scenes are in the same room, also someone is laughing in this scene as well. It seems to be a some sort of observation room mix with an operation room, given the discarded worker drone limbs I don't imagine these "operation" were very ethical. There is a box in the back with some text on it but all I can read is "parts :)".

Presumably this is the hole our main trio were looking at in the first teaser, at the very least we can tell it's open to the air because snow is falling down there, I just noticed how there is not nearly enough snow on everything for a planet that's constantly snowing but I guess I probably shouldn't ask too much realism from this show about murderous drones. On a more worrying note where are Tessa, J and Doll? I hope they are fine but just out of shot.

Last but not least the thumb nail for the video has the weird drone hand that if I had to guess is from that dinosaur drone, I have no evidence other then a gut feeling. Also massive thanks for @magmythedevil for pointing this out but the claw matches the one in episode 4.

[ilydeku]

Workout...right? | izuku x reader

"...30 more seconds y/n!-"

"AGHHH!" You grunted as the core of your abs throbbed in pain. You've only been doings planks for 8 minutes, but the time felt like hours.

You turned your head to Izuku. Sure, he was sweating and all, but it seemed like nothing to him. In fact, he was smiling. This was all fun to him; going beyond limits while working out, waking up to a stiff sore body.

"...and done!" Your body collapsed to the mat in exhaustion, diluting it in sweat. The vibrations or treadmills and weights hitting the floor rumbled through your body. Izuku grabbed his gallon water bottle, nearly chugging down half the fill.

"Great. Let's go home."

"Home?" He laughed, twisting the cap back onto the bottle. "We've only gotten through the warmup! Now it's time to lift!" You groaned, sitting up and crossing your legs. He handed you the bottle to drink.

"You're joking. That was the warmup? All those 10 set 20 reps of exercise? Never working out with you again."

"Hehe you don't mean that. You enjoy anything we do together, plus you wanted a feel of how my daily workouts are, right?"

"...shut up."

You and Izuku took a 5-minute break, taking a breather, and resting on the bench press. After, you both starting on lifting dumbbells. Though, you moved on after seeing Izuku lifting over 60-pound ones. You went off and did your own thing of using the treadmills and stair climbers while Izuku stayed around the weight-lifting area. Agility has always been more of your stronger suit than strength anyways. From time to time, you'd look over in Izuku's direction. Every time you just decided to glance over, he'd be doing something that never failed to amaze you. Whether that be bench pressing over 1000 pounds or deadlifting over 2000. What a sight to behold. He turned the heads of the men working out around him. Compared to him they looked so small and weak. You found it amusing when some even came up to him, probably asking for tips and tricks. But it wasn't funny when some girl came up. You frowned as you watched the action unfold.

"Hi! I'm new here!" The girl smiled, interrupting his routine on

"Hello! Welcome! This gym has a lot of equipment to offer, so go ahead and explore for yourself."

"I couldn't help but notice you out of the other people here! Are you a professional trainer? I saw you helping these guys a while ago." She leaned in a little, failing to grab his attention.

"Oh! I'm actually not. Just a friendly average guy working out. Not a professional trainer." By this time, Izuku had let go of the equipment and was intently listening to the girl. You frowned. You couldn't hear what was going on, so couldn't really tell her to go away.

"I see. That's unfortunate for me." She crossed her arms and pouted, puffing up her cheeks for effect.

"Well if you really need help on working out, I could lend you some time."

"Really!?" She exclaimed rather too loudly. "Thank you so much!" They then started going through the routine that you just recently endured. You laughed a little at how embarrassing she looked as she struggled to make it halfway through the exercises. Though you may have struggled, at least you made it through the whole routine.

"H...Hey." She huffed, as they took a breather. "I heard on social media that squats or whatever are good for you. Can we try them?" She asked, snaking an arm around his. Izuku frowned, pulling his arm away from her, but managed to keep his cheery outlook in continuation. You began coming closer to the weight area, just enough to hear what was going on.

"Uhm...Sure!" He began by getting into the starting position. The girl followed after. "The stance and core of squats are the most important when it comes to squats." He began squatting down halfway. "When you do it, don't go all the way down. Try to make your thighs as parallel to the ground as possible. When you go back up, do it slowly-"

THUMP

"Oops. I fell hehe! Do you mind helping me up?" He turned to see the girl sitting on the floor who was amused at the situation. Izuku offered her a hand and helped her back to her feet. None of this was very funny to you though. 'I fell' my ass.

"Sorry. It's my first time doing workouts like this." The girl kept a hard grip on Izuku's hand.

"Ahh don't worry! Everyone's like this on their first time."

"...who are you anyway? What's your name? You're, like, totally my type of guy." She clasped her other hand around his, inching closer to him. "From the way smile and the way you act, your handsome face...What are you doing after this? I'd be up for a cup of coffee!"

"HEY IZUKU-"

"No thanks." He tightly grasped both of her wrists in one hand and lightly pushed her away. He might've even bruised them unintentionally. "Sorry, but, I have a beautiful girlfriend waiting for me." He smiled as he turned in your direction and began walking over to you. Your face heats up as the girl watches as he wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your cheek in advance. "This is my girlfriend." He declared audible enough for the people around to hear. The girl was in shock. How embarrassing it must've been for her.

"...Huh?"

"Just so I'm clear, girlfriend as in I'm in a committed loving relationship. Meaning I'm taken. You understand right?"

"Oh..well...right...then excuse me!" She quickly turned away and walked out of sight to the far end of the gym. You were amazed at how confident and assertive Izuku was. It suited him and it was honestly very attractive. You stared at Izuku as he grabbed his gear and set the equipment back where it was. The fluttery feeling was driving you crazy, but it only showed how much you loved him.

"Should we get going now y/n?"

inspired by this one webtoon called maybe meant to be. read it or I'll skin your family

support me? :)

[raylin-creates]

This reveals so much of Xie Lian's character and his thinking.

So it looks like he had three reasons in taking the full blame:

1) To keep the remaining people of Xianle from being retaliated against

2) To spare Friend-shaped from turning bitter against the ideals taught to him

3) To punish himself for his part in it

The first reason, I can understand. It was a small radical group around the remaining royal family behind the plot, why should all of Xianle's innocent survivors face punishment?

But the second... It's understandable, for Xie Lian to want to find a way to preserve some of Friend-shaped's... innocence? World view? in the face of such a tragedy. He's also experienced massive personal loss, and wanted to spare Friend-shaped from some of it however he could. From the betrayal of one he thought a friend. From knowing his parents were killed by people they tried to treat well and make peace with. But Xie Lian is ignoring that Friend-shaped isn't a child, especially now hundreds of years later. Friend-shaped deserved to know the full truth and make his own thoughts on it. He was robbed of that for centuries, so long of believing the lie Xie Lian wanted him to is bound to just increase the hurt and confusion when it finally comes out. And it did.

The third. Oh boy. We've seen hints of Xie Lian's lack of regard towards himself before, but this really takes the cake (so far?). "What's there to be afraid of... I can't die!" really sums it up. He's convinced himself that because he's immortal, any hardships he faces are temporary and therefore inconsequential. Which, thinking of it as temporary is not inherently a bad way to look at things and cope when faced with unavoidable hardships, except he's using this logic to actively harm himself. He's taken on the full guilt and punishment of the massacre thinking "it's temporary for me, not them, so better for me to take it". But this prevented those who were actually responsible from facing consequences for hundreds of years, not to mention that the hardships Xie Lian experienced very much still affect him! The events themselves may have been temporary but their effects on him are not!

And the two people he killed being who they were undoubtedly came into this; had they been two nameless participators in the massacre he may not blame himself so much. But it was the king who had treated him well and his people with kindness, and the last of his own bloodline. Had An Le been the only one he killed and his part in the massacre come out, I doubt Xie Lian would be punished for it, in fact even rewarded for killing one of those behind the massacre. But Xie Lian clearly places a lot of value in family ties, especially since most of his family is gone (seen as he still protects Qi Rong in some way despite Qi Rong being a total shit head who deserves what he gets) and cutting off his family tree is no small matter. No matter what An Le did that seems like a big deal. His guilt for it is personal.

And with the king, Xie Lian is someone who never forgets a kindness, so of course he'd feel enormously guilty over repaying that kindness with death! He's clearly not forgiven himself for it, but he's forgotten that he's not the one who decides if he's forgiven or not; that lies with Friend-shaped. Oh boy perhaps that's another thing; could Xie Lian have presented Things in such a way in part so that Friend-shaped could never forgive him? I wouldn't put it past him at some point.

Actually going back to Xie Lian's immortality: wasn't it said back when Hua Cheng challenging the 33 gods was explained that when a god loses all believers they become mortal? Am I remembering that right? Then, while we know Xie Lian always had a follower in Hua Cheng, how did he discover he was still immortal? Wouldn't he have thought it impossible to have any followers left?

I've spent literally an hour trying to type this all out but these few paragraphs have given me SO MANY thoughts

[raymond-reddington-ruminations]

Title:By The Horns

Date:July 14th, 2023.

Series:The Blacklist

Category: Finale fix-it fic

Main characters: Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington

Rating: PG-13

Tags: The Blacklist, Redarina (implied)

*I made up the quotes from Liz in here because I figure they must have had these conversations, even if we didn't see them on screen.*

It was damn lucky that he'd come in a helicopter. As tiny as it was they managed to get Reddington onto the collapsible emergency backboard, and maneuvered him inside. Donald Ressler got Reddington to a medical center inside of 20 minutes of noticing the seemingly dead man twitch.

Now Ressler sat in a side room off of a short hallway. Calling it a waiting room was too generous a term for this tiny little emergency medical center. His elbows rested on his knees and his forehead in his hands. He was shaking, and his vision was off somehow, as it had been since he found Reddington stomped into the ground by the bull. A tornado of conflict like he'd never quite known ran through him. He should be doing something else. He should be calling Cooper back. That wail that had come from Dembe when he'd told them he was standing over Red's body.

But then the twitch, the pulse check, the noise of the helicopter and the urgency of the doctors and nurses. He hadn't had a chance to call them back, to tell them that the man was still alive.

"Not yet," a voice in the back of his head whispered.

Reddington might not make it. Ressler would wait for the doctor to give him some news first.

"There's another reason," the same voice in his head responded.

Shut up, he told it. Are you the devil or the angel on my shoulder?

The voice smiled back. It had Reddington's smug little smile.

The Doctor who had taken Reddington into another room off the hallway charged back out and began loudly calling for the attention of everyone in spanish. He pointed to different people in turn, demanding something. Most people shrugged or shook their heads, but some responded with at least one letter of the alphabet and Ressler understood that.

"A…".

"AB…".

He charged to his feet and quickly advanced to the doctor. "Blood types? Is that what you're asking for? Blood types??! I'm B negative!"

Ressler proffered his arm and slapped the inside of his elbow. "B negative! We're a match! We've done a blood transfer before!"

"Yes, yes!" The doctor grabbed his arm and ushered him into the room where Reddington lay on a stretcher. An oxygen mask was over his face, a brace around his neck, a heart monitor was beeping threadily, and a battered looking portable x-ray machine was being maneuvered over him by two nurses.

Ressler was ushered into a chair next to Reddington, and in short order Resslers blood was trailing through an IV tube into Reddington's arm. The beep of the heart monitor became stronger, more certain of itself. Red's chest began to noticeably rise and fall, something that Ressler hadn't been able to see out in that field.

The nurses finished their scans of Reddington's body and left. They were suddenly alone in the small, cramped room together, with the beep of the monitors and the ticking of a large wall clock. Resslers slow, controlled blood loss was combining with jet lag, and taking its effect on him. He felt drowsy and light, as if he was floating. He found himself looking over at his long-time nemesis, battered and bloodied, unconscious beside him. What a long road this had been. There had been so much loss. Liz. Where did it all end?

There were things he should be doing, like making that phone call. Why wasn't he?

"It'll limit your options. Wait. No one knows but you."

Son of a bitch. It out and out sounded like Reddington in his head now.

He drifted for a bit, not the least bit comfortable with deciding not to decide. Wait and see. Wait for the doctor. Ignore the fact that Red's condition should have nothing to do with Resslers' job.

The doctor returned, going to the wall and turning on a light board. He put up an x-ray of Reddington's skull, and began talking and gesturing to it. When he paused to look back at Ressler, he took in the other man's complete lack of comprehension. After a moment of hesitation, the doctor pointed to Reddington's nose area on the x-ray. He held out his fist horizontally, with the thumb extended to the side. Then he turned his fist so that the thumb was pointed up. He pointed to the area on the x-ray over Reddington's left eye, another place that was still bloody on Reddington's face. Again he started with the thumb extended to the side, and turned his fist so that the thumb was part way up.

"Ok, I got it. Injured, but not so bad."

The doctor put up another x-ray, and pointed his finger down the spine, continuing to talk, but not stopping there. Red's ribs and left forearm each got a big thumbs down, not that Ressler needed that interpretation. He could see for himself the shattered bones in the image. He shifted in his seat, registering his own sore ribs, thanks to Red's marksmanship just days ago. He didn't want to think about that. The voice in the back of his head had been all too convincingly suggesting that in Red's shoes, Ressler would have had to pull the trigger on Hudson himself.

The doctor moved on to an x-ray of Reddington's pelvis, but after just a moment he took it down again. He began flipping through the folder of x-rays in his hands, muttering to himself. He took the X-ray of the pelvis, and compared the numbers on it to the numbers on several of the other x-rays. He seemed confused. Then he left the room.

Donald waited, blinking hard and trying to shake off the faint dizziness. The clock on the wall told him it had been just over an hour since he had first found Reddington in that field.

The doctor returned with a younger woman, in different colored, more decorative scrubs. He put the pelvis X-ray back on the wall, and pointed at it accusingly, seemingly demanding something from the woman. She took the X-ray down, and again compared the numbers on it to the other x-rays. Then she put it back up, gesturing to it and speaking in a deliberately reasonable tone of voice. The doctor cut her off heatedly, gesturing to Reddington and back to the x-ray.

"What's going on?" Ressler leaned forward in his chair, reminding them of his presence.

"Ah. English." The woman spoke haltingly. She pointed at Reddington. "Friend?"

He stared hard at her for a moment. Then raised his fist horizontally, with his thumb out to the side.

"Ah," she replied, though her expression was clearly confused. She pointed to the X-ray, and then pointed to Reddington, and fumbled for the english words. "...tr….uhm…g…ch, change?"

He looked at her blankly, and shook his head that he didn't understand.

She turned back to the light board, and moved Reddington's pelvis x-ray to the side. She shuffled through a folder of x-rays in her own hands, and put up two more x-rays, both of them pelvises. She pointed to the first one, which was longer, narrower, with a smaller oval in the center, mostly taken up by the tail end of the spine. Then with the same hand she reached down and seemingly grabbed her crotch, Michael Jackson style. Ressler blinked, hard, and leaned back, baffled.

The woman pointed to the second new x-ray, where the pelvis was shorter, wider, and had a larger oval in the middle with far less of the tail of the spine showing in it. She then pointed to her midsection, and with her arm drew the shape of a pregnancy belly in the air in front of her.

"Yeah, I do know that. Men and women have different shaped pelvises." Basic forensics had been a long time ago, and he'd never had to make the identification himself, but in theory he could.

The woman slid the two x-rays apart, and popped Reddington's in between them. Then her finger shifted back and forth between all three.

Reddington's x-ray was in between, literally and descriptively. Wider, but also taller. A larger oval, with less tail bone in it. The areas that made the pelvis look taller had different levels of brightness on the outer edges, which Ressler knew from looking at his own x-rays over the years denoted bone growth.

But that large oval in the center, with the small amount of tailbone. That was distinctive.

"No," he said. He pointed at the X-ray, pointed at Reddington, and shook his head. "That's not his x-ray. Obviously."

The woman also pointed to the X-ray and to Reddington, and nodded her head insistently. She took the pelvis x-ray down, and lined it up in her hand with the skull x-ray, the arm x-ray, and x-rays of Reds clearly broken leg after it. She pointed to the upper right corner where the numbers were, and Donald could clearly see that the numbers were sequential. Each x-ray changing by only one number. The pelvis x-ray belonged in the middle of the bunch. He stared in confusion.

The doctor spoke up again, sounding annoyed and arrogant. The woman slapped the pelvis X-ray back up, drawing her finger around the oval in the center emphatically. She pointed to tiny, long-healed cracks that showed around the oval, speaking to the doctor sharpley, and again drawing the pregnant belly in the air in front of her. She pointed at Reddington, threw her hands up in finality, and stalked out of the room.

There was an awkward silence. Then the doctor shuffled his files, stared at the floor, and left.

Ressler sat alone again in the room with Reddington, looking at the X-ray in confusion and dizziness. A group of nurses came, bringing him some orange juice. They quickly and efficiently cut off most of Red's clothing, put his arm in a cast, and bound his leg in a brace. They elevated the bed and carefully supported Red's unconscious upper body as they wrapped his ribs.

Red's entire upper back and the backs of his upper arms were covered in burn scars.

"My father died in a fire when I was 4. He was fighting with my mother. I think Reddington was there."

Liz.

"He killed your mother right in front of you, you tried to kill him for it. Why are you forgiving him now?"

She hadn't answered him, that last time that he spoke to her, in his hospital bed just hours before she died. He never did learn why she backed down on going after Reddington for the seemingly unforgivable act of killing Liz's mother.

But there was that letter that Dembe had given to Elizabeth when he wasn't supposed to. It had seemed to cause such a rift between Red and Dembe. A secret, THE secret, revealed to Liz, finally, on the last day of her life.

Donald Ressler was not by any means stupid or slow. That damn voice in the back of his head was putting the pieces together, but the rest of him was resisting. He looked at the man in front of him, whom he'd been chasing for 15 years. It couldn't be, could it? It just wasn't possible, Reddington was far from being celibate. Someone would know, someone would talk.

"CRISPER gene editing was in use 20 years before anybody thought it was. Men can be implanted with uteruses and carry babies to term. Hooker robots. What exactly isn't possible, Donald?"

No. Not this. It couldn't be.

Alexander Kirk let Reddington go. Reddington would never say why.

Damn it, it fit. It fit so perfectly. It explained every. Damn. Thing. Why Reddington would give his very life to protect Liz, why he forgave her, and only her, every single time.

What the hell?! What the actual hell was he going to do with this??! It just couldn't be right!

A ringing cell phone made him jump, and he fumbled for his pocket one handed before realizing it was coming from the pile of Reddington's clothing nearby.

Shaken, he flipped open the basic phone, seeing the identifying name come up at the same time that the call became active.

Agnes.

"Pinky??! Pinky!!"

Away from the speaker for a moment; "He picked up! I told you! Pinky?? Pinky, say something! PINKY!!" She was escalating into higher panic with every plea.

Agnes. His goddaughter. That bright, beautiful little girl that was the last surviving piece of Liz.

"Not the last, Donald."

He cleared his throat, and spoke her name, in a voice that was clearly not the one she wanted to hear.

"NO! NO, I WANT PINKY! SAY SOMETHING PINKY, PLEASE!! " She was screaming now, and he could hear Cooper in the background, sounding tearful himself, trying to calm her.

Agnes and her Pinky were so close. Closer than Red and Liz had ever been. And he might actually be her Grand….oh god. The implications of it swirled around his brain. Even the lowest criminal, if they qualified as human at all, they couldn't not love their kids. Jesus, no wonder. Now it all made such terrible, tragic sense. Liz. Reddington should have told her.

"Cooper…Agnes, listen…" he tried to cut through her hysteria.

"Ah…nez…" Resslers' head snapped around at the muffled voice. Reddington, one eye flickering slightly, the other swollen shut, was trying to lean his head within the neck brace towards the phone.

"Hang on", he told them all, and pulled Red's oxygen mask just slightly offside, to hold the phone to his face.

"Ag..ness?"

"Pinky??! Is that you??!"

"Izz me…Izz you?"

"Oh God, oh God. Pops said a bull attacked you. He said you were dead! I told him I'd just talked to you!" She'd settled into sobbing her words out.

"Well zaz bullshi'. Heh. We gonna have burgers nex' time."

Bloody, bruised, and bound, Raymond Reddington still managed one of those little grins. Asshole.

"I love you so much, Pinky. Please come home. Don't stay away, just come home."

"Love you, see you zoon."

Ressler took the phone back, and clearly so did Cooper.

"Donald? What the hell??"

"Sorry, I..I really thought he was gone. Then I had to get him help…"

"I had to wait for Dembe to be sedated before I could come home. God, I've got to go back and tell him."

"Yeah. Cooper?"

"Yes?"

"…. I didn't call anyone. I'm here on my own."

There was a long pause of understanding.

"…. You're far from home Donald. Way out of our jurisdiction. I don't know what you can or can't do, or what you want to do. I only know what I would do in your place. I never want to hear her like that again."

"No. Me either."

"This isn't a bureau phone, Donald. This conversation didn't happen. The last one we had earlier, when you did call on a bureau phone, stands."

Ressler closed Reddington's phone.

Red was watching him out of one bleary eye, which seemed more alert by the second. He noticed the IV of blood connecting them.

"Full circle?"

"10 years…not that I really think I ever owed you anything. Except maybe a goodby."

He looked down, not sure where to go from here. He had committed to a course of action with Coopers unspoken consent and support. He was going to take no action at all.

There was no reason for him to stay here now. He could walk out, and Raymond Reddington would remain dead to all the world, with one hell of a tall tale about how he'd died gone out into the world, via the FBI.

Red watched him, picking up the situation easily. Softly, he asked; "Why?"

Red waited, the silence pregnant with tension.

Donald didn't know what to say. He wanted to talk, he wanted to question, and he wanted to forget.

"What…what is Agnes's blood type?"

"Why would you…." Red's working eye had finally managed to focus behind Ressler, to the light board on the wall, where the image of his own pelvis was brightly lit. He was quiet for a minute, and then spoke slower more carefully than he had before.

"I knew how you felt about 'lizabeth, before she did. Before you did. I knew if I said anything good, she'd run the other way."

"So you made fun of me for eight years? Gee, thanks. Why'd you keep it up?"

"Habit. I wish you a good life, Donald."

"Yeah, you too. Red."

The end.

Note; The show is over. They can't say this didn't happen.

[transhawks]

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Here's a collection of All For One (and Possessed!Tomura being particularly Ozymandias-like), and where I think we're heading. He's not being subtle at all.

All For One is defining a villain who manages, through an act, to get people, en masse despite massive cultural and ethical differences, to get upset enough to derail their futures. This idea of bringing people together isn't just in one panel:

Here he is through his Tomura!Puppet, stating this again - goal is uniting people despite his rather pessimistic belief that the world is split beyond any hope for a status quo. Thus, all will unite under him and what he brings with him.

If you've never read Watchmen, or watched the movie or TV series, Ozymandias is the hero name of Adrian Veidt, a man who considers himself the smartest man in the world. In the end of Watchmen, we find out he's been orchestrating many of the events around them specifically to curtail the effects costumed heroes have had on world affairs, like further pushing humanity into nuclear warfare. He decides to summon a gigantic telepathic eldritchian squid on top of NYC, "killing millions to save billions" as a way to push humanity beyond their differences into fighting a common enemy. It works.

One of the most obvious things about All For One is his lack of a motive thus far beyond this "comic book" that he was so taken by as a child. He latched on to a image of a villain and hasn't able to let go. But what villain? And why?

I think we have to look back at All For One and One For All and their era. We've gotten a few discussions about how badly the phenomenon affected humanity, but it was clear there was massive unrest that didn't settle until the past few decades AND a technological freeze or even regression. It was a world torn apart by people growing more and more different and a society that hadn't even begun to process what quirks meant. Of course, with the current hero society, we've been told the society has "calmed down", which we know isn't true at all. It's only through the unifying figures of such heroes as All Might and ruthless government organizations like the HPSC assassinating any dissenters that there has been a facade of peace.

Even more worrying, All For One's obsession with the Quirk Singularity/Doomsday hypothesis. It's clear he's been planning around it especially with his taking Ujiko under his wing. Perhaps it's Quirk Singularity he's trying to prevent by creating a future where such quirks cannot crop up?

I'm really unsure, but now that I've noticed the red flags here (and remember Horikoshi, above all, is a comics nerd. This entire manga has been a love letter to comic books) I can't help but think we're actually a far more deeper motive for All For One's actions than "I want to be a Villain"

Because All For One understands heroes need something to save people from. And why not be that something?

[seasonschange32]

A simple confession

A/N: for @fangirlanxiety74 ! So sorry for being late and it being short! I hope ( and pray) you don't mind :)

Someone must have lied about the end of the world.

I mean for the past century we've described it as a never ending nightmare, the destroyer of mankind's purpose. It's been written in a thousand versions from many different folks. Some interpret it as the gods dueling in an epic battle of win and losses while others see it as the sun finally giving out.

And of course this was no exception according to the Allied mastercomputer ( also known as AM).

His creators failure to see his eventual sentience and jealousy of others resulted in the creation of a new world and six humans to playfully torture…well, not the sixth of course.

You were the exception in the group considering that you hadn't experienced anything that terrible and had done anything too life changing. An odd human you were…and what an odd way you showed your appreciation for him. For example, a walk?? Really?? What this your best and ultimately effective way to woo him?

Sadly, it was slightly effective.

B-but not too much! He definitely wasn't making sure you didn't trip or hurt yourself. Your just a liability, not a real person of course!

As you two continued to walk around the desolate and decrepit land, you decide to ask him a very simple question

“ What am I to you?”

“In what sense?”

He responded back with a hint of curiosity. Whatever, could you mean human? and was this going to make his processor hurt? What were you to him? Weren't you just a simple human who lived life as a ‘ average joe’? But that couldn't be true considering how unreasonably kind you were to him. He always tended to his needs, making sure he was okay, and weirdly enough: helping him when he was stressed by reminding him of how the world treated him and feeding into his ego?

How could you make such a nihilistic/uncaring feeling of slight sympathy for a fleshbag like yourself? You must be a wizard! No, that wouldn't be realistic and frankly preposterous! A wizard doesn't even exist in the concept of reality. It's fictitious…which sparked a thought: maybe you were just a figment of his imagination.A Meer Charlatan playing tricks with his brain.

Yes!

His answer was very clear! It was all so simple! He could see it now: you're a figment of his amazing imagination, and the reason you're so sweet is a representation of his conscious, pure, and bright. Of course, he could always smash it, but maybe he didn't have the guts to-

“are you listening to me?” Am turned his head to look at you.

Oh shit, the question!

“what were you saying?”

“What am I to you?”

he gleefully responded with

“A fleshbag.”