#& i wanna write with more people so!

[choccy-milky]

people-watching and gossiping 💅

(more older seblora brainrot bc of my oneshot)

[stealingyourbones]

I desperately need more mentor uncle figures and mentor brother figures in DPxDC to fill the interesting relationship dynamic gap that father figures stories can't always fill are u picking up what I'm putting down. Hell, just a regular friendship relationship with absolutely 0 familial dynamic.

[hootyhoowoo]

A little 15 min doodle but first post of the year has to be Bingqiu!

[courfee]

it's been exactly a year since the last chapter of Operation Walburga's Arbitrary No Kissing Ever Rule and I still miss it. This scene is probably one of my favourite things I've ever written and I've wanted to draw it for forever, so now seemed like an appropriate time

[idontmindifuforgetme]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[altcvnningham]

canis major

adler x bell!reader

summary: adler doesn’t go back to berlin to forget, but he isn’t so eager to remember, either. after leaving you for dead on that clifftop in the arctic, he knows best to leave the past well alone. too bad that past seems to be alive and walking right in front of him; though where he wants to forget, it seems you’ve already beaten him to the punch. or; bell survives solovetsky and only has a hole in her head and amnesia to show for it. read on ao3

tags/cw: bell!reader, amnesia, light angst, referenced adlerbell, somehow bell survives the ending of cw, adler can't let shit go, adler is not capable of remorse but mayyybe a lil guilt?? dog symbolism always, no pairing yet but hopefully i continue this as a spicy drabble series idk wc: 2.7k

a/n: sooo this is my first fic for the cod fandom and the first fic i've posted online in a long time so hopefully this lil ramble suffices!! i've had adlerbell brainrot and wanted to get at least something out before bo6 ruins all of my headcanons so here's a snippet of something i hopefully find the motivation to continue into a mini series. enjoy :')

Sometimes, he goes back to Berlin.

Stumbling out of the muggy bar into the dank alleyway out the back, Adler fishes out a pack of cigarettes from the front of his jacket; two firm knocks of it against his palm before he plucks one out with his mouth, pockets the box, and flips open his lighter. The clink of the metal echoes into the empty around him, the sudden quiet suffused with the sounds of passing cars on the street, muffled laughter from inside the bar, and the distant barking of dogs. Strays.

The cigarette ignites, glowing a cherry red, and he gasps around the filter greedily. Upon exhale, he sighs.

Adler isn’t a sentimental man by any means. What little he clings to, he does so with a loose grip, less than happy but stolid enough to allow whatever else he deems unnecessary slip through his fingers. Places, people. Things. Memories. Tucks the important things- logic, rationality, work, duty- into orderly compartments at the forefront of his mind, archived and marked off ‘til he needs it, while the rest, the mess, gets done away with, thrown into the great black gorge of oblivion. Anything else that stays- more often than not a thorn in his side, an unbidden, wriggling tumour he can’t find let alone cut out- is sequestered to a dark aperture in the back of his mind, anchored deep where it can’t come back up. Yet somehow, some nights, they always do. The smell of his ex-wife’s hair. The day he got his scar. Vietnam. The lab. Solovetsky—

The next word, the name, forks across his mind like lightning, and he bites his tongue before he can think it. It sits at the back of his mouth, nestled like an aching cavity in his molars. A tremulous breath that he forces down with another drag of his cigarette. Out with the rest. Out with the rest.

The barking doesn’t cease. Dogs, a pair of them, he can hear a couple streets over. He pictures them from the gravelly register of their snarling- maybe German Shepherds, a Bullmastiff or a Rottweiler. Their fight enunciated by the violent rattling of chain-link fences, segregated, the only threshold that keeps teeth from necks.

But no, not a sentimental man. He tells himself that the itch to revisit Berlin every Summer is for superficial reasons, and by no means is renting out a shithole hotel room opposite a sewer-laden river considered a vacation from anything other than the luxuries he gorges himself mindlessly on at home- maybe this is to keep him humble, more than anything. It doesn’t do well to remind himself of old times, not when he’s lived the life he has. Remembering seldom accompanies itself with the bittersweetness of reminiscence, and the taste it leaves in his mouth is always acrid. He doesn’t miss Berlin any more than he misses that dismal safehouse, or that sterile room he wheeled you into, questioned- tortured- no, interrogated- well, he doesn’t care to remind himself of the picture. Or the person he strapped to the gurney. But he catches himself thinking back to the city divided more than he likes to admit, and for whatever ostensible reason it is that drags him back here, he relents to it every time.

He tells himself it’s the weather, the cool rain a nice reprieve from the scorching California heat. Or that the food is better, not so much overprocessed shit and sugars. Can take his coffee as black as he likes without the waitress turning her nose up about it and double-triple-checking if he’s sure. And it’s the people, maybe, who leave him well enough alone. Or the drinks. The views, some places. The- air.

Not like Arctic air. Not like—

The one dog’s snarl rips bloodcurdling through the night, all froth and venom, and as the chain-link fence screeches and judders in its rusted welding the other mutt quiets a moment. Cowers under the meaner dog’s ferocity. Then, like it had been wounded, it lets out a low, anguished howl, beast reduced to a scared little pup. Adler holds the smoke in his chest around a stifled breath anticipating a release. But the first dog just grumbles, the fence clinks, and there isn’t much noise after that.

But the quiet doesn’t last long- just as Adler drops his cigarette and snuffs it with a wrench of his heel, another sound resonates, yowling through the alley.

The grinding of tires upon wet asphalt crunches from just beyond the alleyway entrance. The streetlamp overhanging the entryway glares bright yellow as it bounces off of the garishly coloured taxi cab, pulling up to a groaning halt outside the bar.

He thinks nothing of it, pulling at the collar of his leather jacket. It’s getting cold, and he’s left his drink inside. Wouldn’t want to waste good beer. Adler turns, and makes for the door.

And you step out of the car.

A half-finished cigarette bounces on the sidewalk before you exit, the softened heel of your boot following soon after in a splash upon the flooded curb. Your German is rusty- always has been- but it’s easy enough to utter a quick and easy danke as you pull yourself up out of the cab. The door shuts with a slam, and you tilt your head back to gaze up at the sign above the bar- Der Fluss Lethe glaring in faded lightbox red- and you let out a contented sigh, your breath suspended in the frigid air. Pink, bitten fingers pluck at your gloves, fingerless faded green knit, shovelling them into your jacket pocket.

Adler’s fist is already curled around the handle of the back door as he clocks your presence in his periphery, a stranger like any other- but your image resembles the one that coagulates in the borders of old memory, the dried blood of you he hasn’t been able to wash his hands of since ‘81. Enough that he does a double take, his eyes wide behind tinted glasses, and he stops, his heart following suit.

He’s seen enough bodies in his time to fill the morgue in his mind twice over, and plenty ghosts to wander coldly among the unmarked graves. Vietnam alone is an unwinding cemetery stretching endless, catacombs along the inside of his skull, lined with what his old shrink would call remorse. Guilt. As if the feeling mattered. As if self-reproach could turn self-flagellation into something so incandescent as redemption. As if the bile in the back of his throat could bring back the dead.

And it couldn’t, because it isn’t… that’s not—

Bell.

It’s in the way you stand, your back rigid, that slight slouch to your shoulders, always dragged down upon you like they bore the weight of the whole world (and they did, once, do you remember?). The pelting of rain smacks off of the lapels of your jacket and ricochets like stars, caught in the light of the streetlamp overhead, but for all he knows or cares it could be raining diamond and all he sees is you- the wrinkling of your nose as you accommodate to the cold, how your cheeks flush at the chill (as they had those nights he pulled you into the darkroom, evidence of your apprehension drowned in the red glow of safelights); your hair is longer, unkempt, but still that same colour (clumps he’d find in his clenched fist when you’d argue yourselves into a wrestling match, pinning each other by the throats to dented walls in Die Landebahn); that scar upon your brow; that wavering line of your lip, pursed and hiding behind your reticence as you always did, and your eyes- your eyes—

—you feel someone watching—

—your eyes turn, and fix upon him with the startled softness of a doe, hunter betrayed by the snapping of a branch underfoot. Adler’s heel crunches against broken glass, his hand lingering right in that threadbare threshold upon the doorhandle, and he can’t speak, can’t move, can’t think—

Open the door, Bell, open the door—

—and you stop outside the cab, your breath caught in your throat. You see a shadow in the alley, in the shape of a man.

The darkness of the alley gives enough cover that you don’t see much, but what you do make out of the man prickles at a part of your mind long dormant: the haughtily broad set of the shoulders; the halo of blond tinted red just beneath the flickering exit light above the door where he stands; the shadow of a strong, clenched jaw; and in the brief glinting of passing headlights as cars rush on behind you, you see a face half gorged by a thick, forked scar, a fissure struck down his furrowed expression. A pair of dark aviator glasses hide those eyes that you know are looking at you, reflecting back nothing but your own bewilderment.

There is something you know. Deep inside that half rotted head of yours, where an incomplete recollection of your existence before you awoke bleeding on that clifftop lies, you feel a twinge of recognition. Familiarity. Something. Something stirring deep in your marrow- a fear inherited, a conditioned surrender, a faded polaroid, a kiss? Your migraine, chronic, comes clawing back with a vengeance, as it does most nights, but this time with a savage fervour that wrenches your face into an involuntary grimace. Where the hole in your head had once been all those years ago it tickles and burns, burrowing into your brain and groping greedy fingers along remnants of memory. It claws at you, digging through your amygdala to find something fresh, something old, something palpable, real, something- anything. Searching what little remains visible to you in the thick fog of your own mind to pin a meaning to this feeling, an answer to your question, a name to that face.

You’ve seen him before. You swear. Somewhere. In a dream, reoccurring, behind a red door. You don’t know how, or why you’d think you recognise him- in those dreams, the door never even opens. Your hand ever stuck on the handle, jammed and impenetrable, what sits behind it forbidden to you. Like not even your own mind wants you to know. It confines you to your ignorance, almost blissful.

Adler’s heart kicks violently in his chest. He shot you. He killed you. He’d heard your death rattle on that clifftop in Solovetsky and the sound was almost like singing, your last word, your last breath. A miserere for your short and fractured life. And he’s looking at your ghost, standing there all owl-eyed and as beautiful as the day he found you bleeding out on that airstrip. Before he took you. Before he took you and collared you and made a damned mess of things.

The only thing separating you from the Bell he knows he killed- his Bell- is the star-shaped scar split across your left temple. The only wound he never had to sit and heal as he belligerently patched you up, poking and preening you like his prize dog. Yet in spite of never seeing it before, he recognises the wound all too well. He put it there himself.

And as you stand there for that brief moment- no more than twelve seconds stretched to an eternity- he thinks for a moment that you’ve put it together. You recognise him. You see him. As he is. You’ve figured him out, Bell, as you always do. You’re the only one to have gotten away with it, nearly. Or so he thought. And now he’s watching a corpse having dug itself out of the grave he put it in, standing there, staring at him. Suppose you’ve always been a dead man walking.

You could do it, he thinks. Turn. Fling your heel round and barrel towards him with all the enmity of a cornered animal. He thinks of the strays, barking. Can picture your mouth frothing at the sides as you sink your teeth down into him- gnarled canines, hooked to your chain-link fence- which he probably deserves. Not an unfamiliar feeling by any stretch, but one faraway enough to seem almost sweet now through the hazy lens of nostalgia. If there truly is a sentimental bone in his body after all, then maybe it’s just for that. Still, he holds his breath, awaiting the killing blow he’s surely due. But it never comes.

You release your held breath, finally, tearing your eyes away from the callous faced stranger. It’s a ridiculous notion. Just an uncanny instance of déjà vu. You don’t know that man any more than you know yourself. You settle on a more rational answer- just one of those faces. And with a disgruntled sigh you rub the scar upon your temple to soothe the ache, turn around, and enter the bar alone.

Adler sighs, his heart sinking from up high in his throat back down to his chest. His hand has latched onto the doorhandle for so long it’s gone numb from the cold, bruised knuckles bluer than they were before (bar fights- not here, but another, as there will always be). He wrestles his jaw pensively, knowing he ought to take it off, keep the door closed, turn away, and leave. Slink back, tail between his legs, to that shithole hotel room to drink himself into a stupor. Let you haunt him there, instead. As you always have.

But he doesn’t. He has no idea what idiocy compels him, what soft, dewy-eyed weak link in him snags on that chain, to willingly wander back into the viper den of reminiscence, but he wrenches his fist around the handle, pushes, and lets himself back into the bar, the thick, hot air hitting him like a drug that he breathes in, tart and sour with the cloy of sweat and alcohol but still faintly- just faintly- of you. Like rain carried along the wind.

And Russell Adler is not a sentimental man.

But from across the bar he hides behind his beer glass, watches as you move about, a phantom, weaving through the faceless mass of people celebrating a championship he cares nothing to follow. You take your order at the bar with a smile he’s never seen on you before, boots folded to tip-toes as you lean over the liquor-stickied top, your perfect mouth pink and sweet and laughing and alive. The world seems to move about you in a haze, an indistinct mist of blurred faces and bottled voices and beyond all the light and life and joy that seems to burn bright around you like a halo all he sees is you.

Maybe, then, he’s a fool.

But it isn’t lost on him, how your fingers skirt across your hair in an attempt to hide the scar upon your temple. Nor is it lost on him how you wince at the feeling, the stars in your eyes dimmed for just a split second as you shiver, like a touch imperceptible running fingers down your back. Nor even the way you fight the urge to look, to follow the feeling of his eyes fixed upon you, and surely not the way you lose that fight, surrendered to it, your sweet face turning and finding him in an instant. Without so much as trying, like instinct, like something as pathetic and saccharine as fate. Your heart called to it, a lighthouse in the fog. Port in the storm. Ships passing in the night but called crashing to the same shore.

(The pieces of you are scattered everywhere, Bell. He finds you in every split seam inside himself. Splintered shrapnel dug through his temporal lobe, severing synapses ‘til they go dark. Even stars die quicker than that. Quicker than you. Is that what it felt like for you, too? When the lights went out, was it him you last saw- or the sky, waxen, over the Arctic? A waning night, a distant moon. The inconsequence of death- brief celestial ephemera.)

The stranger across the bar looks at you, offering nary a smile, eyes indiscernible behind shadowed sunglasses. And where you ought to find his apparent coldness disconcerting, instead you wring out of your chest with a white-knuckled caress a feeling like… comfort.

Sometimes, Bell, you go back to Berlin. You don’t quite know why.

[huginsmemory]

Like I get why human-Bill post canon redemption fics for Billford are common because it's fun to put Bill in that situation where he doesn't know whats going on and its a way to 'break' Bill into not being a huge asshole through learning empathy BUT I feel like also a big part of that is also people being COWARDS and not leaning into the monsterfuckery of Ford falling in love and getting it on freaky style with a triangle LIKE HE ALREADY DID.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

AGH FASHION DESIGNER SUGURU AND MODEL SATORU W A NEW INTERN DESIGNER UNDER THEIR WING 😞😞☹️ - 🌺

WAHHHH I LOVE THIS 🥺🥺🥺 the pining and flirting and slowburn of it all… model!satoru and his favorite designer suguru geto, both of them undeniably skilled and born with an eye for fashion….. well-known and adored……..

designer!suguru who gets tasked with showing you the ropes, who’s always so patient and kind despite your inexperience. diligent with his teaching but also so laidback, so easy to talk to… he looks intimidating, but he’s so polite that you can’t help but swoon a little. and he admires your enthusiasm so much…… grows fond of you soooo quickly bc you’re just such a breath of fresh air compared to the divas he’s forced to work with all the time. he thinks you’ve got real potential and he wants to nurture it.

and ofc you end up running into model!satoru eventually…. bc he’s always hanging around suguru whenever he gets the chance. and he’s maybe a little jealous that you’re hogging so much of his personal designer’s attention, but… he also thinks you’re so cute . T_T like a little puppy following suguru around… so excited to be apart of what you’ve dreamed of for so many years……… he looks into your eyes and sees the same sparkle he had before he made it big, and it makes his heart race.

yeah . i’m just thinking abt the peaceful coffee breaks with suguru….. how he’d insist on paying for your drink, ”since he’s your senior” (he wants to be your favorite </3)…… and how he’d just be so protective over his little intern. don’t get me started on the close proximity with satoru when you’re taking his measurements, the glance and smile he sends your way during an impromptu shoot… the way he always calls for you with a sweet coo of ”how’s my favorite intern doing today?”

😔😔😔 yeahhhhhh. they make me feel ill.

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

(Small, frivolous rant incoming, apologies)

One thing I wish the Destiny fandom did more of was dabble in the utter horror this universe holds, especially when it comes to portraying the vile atrocities committed by many of the cosmic level characters.

Destiny‘s T rating holds it back so much in my opinion (but it still manages to lay down excellent foundations for horror and more mature themes!!) and I really wish there was more fan works that explored the unimaginable tragedies that occur in lore!!

When you really dwell on the scale of many of the disasters that happen in lore, it really dawns on you just how sinister and monstrous many of the larger villains are. Antagonists like Eramis are much more grounded, certainly not saints though, but some of the antagonists we have encounter are truly odious in their behaviors, even if they are deluded into thinking what they are doing is correct (like the Osmium siblings ravaging whole star systems in pursuit of the sword).

For example, it’s no secret that I LOATHE the Witness like no other. This wicked entity has me fighting bile at the mere thought of it and I truly think the way it delivers cruelty with such a sense of compassion and righteousness to be the most stomach wrenching form of being baneful. I could not think of an entitlement more deplorable than the Witness‘ and it’s existence is a travesty that has caused irreparable harm that spans EONS.

Yet, in my experience, I never see much content that taps into the horrors experienced by those touched by the Witness and its pawns, such as the Noesis and humanity during the collapse. There are INCREDIBLE artistic and written works that tap into the psychological horrors of exos and the unethical hell Clovis was putting people through, but not as many on the more cosmic horrors from what I have seen!!

This may just be a me thing and the personal reasons why I want the Witness put under a hydraulic press speaking, but I often see plenty of depictions of the Witness being uncharacteristically soft and having deeper feelings towards its disciples, but works about its vengeful rage, simple mindedness, violation of the autonomy of others, and predatory grooming are quite barren.

I wish to see just how HEINOUS it is displayed in all its turpitude and how it leaves a festering rot on everything and everyone it touches. I love the Witness because it is so evil in it‘s actions and my heart SINGS any time I see people tap into the trauma it causes, especially for characters like Rhulk or Savathûn!!

There is so much room for exploring just how vast the Destiny universe is when you decenter perpetrators in stories and focus on the incomprehensible number of victims.

Destiny genuinely has a character running around with the title „The Final God of Pain“ haunting people and refusing to permanently die, but there is only so much a T rated game can do and I feel like Destiny enjoyers can go beyond what’s in game in such creative ways!! Just thinking of the fall of Torobatl has me going „Wow, I’m actually so sick to my stomach, I need to honor Caiatl and really capture the pain of such an event!“

The latest lore on the Qugu? My chest HURTS.

Some of the hive experimentations? The hive in general? Hell is not hot enough for what the Witness lead them into.

But you know what they say, be the change you want to see in the world! Create the content you want to enjoy and promote the content you do enjoy!! I wish to dabble into the darker areas of lore, and of course, promote Witness hatred any chance I get!! Hopefully I get more time to write about these things and really value the work the Destiny writers have put into portraying such strong feelings of loss time and time again!!

And also!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read The Garden‘s Witness by Titanmaster_117 !!! ESPECIALLY THE FIRST CHAPTER, I COULD RANT ABOUT THIS BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF PROSE ALL DAY, IT GENUINELY MADE ME CRY!! PROMOTE THE CONTENT YOU ENJOY ALL DAY, EVERYDAY!!

But this is just something I’ve been thinking for some time now. This isn’t condemning anyone in the fandom or saying there is an issue, just a desire I would love to see (and hopefully fulfill if I ever get back into writing for Destiny!) If you guys have any recommendations for Destiny works that are horrific, focus on themes of loss and devastation, or hate on the Witness, feel free to mention them so other people can find them!!

Not enough Witness hate going around for my liking… this looks like a job for me.

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[ganondoodle]

in other news, i still hate the 'curse' demise says being seen as a literal thing so widely, like he is somehow powerful enough to bend the world to that cycle and even the gods being helpless against it (unless they want it or even orchestrated it but that option never comes up does it), its never even considered to perhaps not be real, like its a literal law of the zelda world, imo its pretty boring itself and also boring as an explanation for the cycle and most often really only gets used to or talked about to make ganondorf be just a helpless evil guy that is born evilly bc he is cursed and if you took away tha demon juice he would side with hyrule and be good tm (a side effect being that people think he is the actual reincarnation of demise like zelda is supposedly of hylia which also sucks IMO) .... or to make demise some sort of puppet master, which i hate even more no .. no i hate that the most (bc it makes ganondorf a puppet and demise the evil demon master and thus ruins both my favs yippie)

[httpuckdrop]

a lot of thoughts are being thunk

[imkazz]

saiki k is a golden anime.

i finished season 1 just now and. i have feelings. copy pasted from discord as a ranting to @peapodsinspace but i have to recommend the anime now.

i feel like the genre is comedy anime but. there are a lot of dark undertones to it. this is a teenage boy and he has to suffer every single day for powers he doesnt want. it impacts his everyday life and all he wants is to be normal but he doesnt know what normal is despite it being right in his face.

he pushes these people away but they continue coming after him. like real friends. normal friends.

they think of him and like him no matter what he does or acts or anything and. he loves them right back. he does things for them and they try to do things despite the fact that it typically goes wrong or he knows what theyre doing. he doesnt even care that he doesnt get acknowledgement because he doesnt want it.

so like.. i have to mention his friends. kusuo gives them grief constantly. always dissing them, always using their thoughts against them (such as teruhashi and her dislike for kids and bowling). because he can hear them. saiki kusuo not only gets his ideas about them from how they act and what they say, but also by what they think and that is a huge teller because they dont think anyone is listening. this is a private space that kusuo cannot even escape from whether he wants it or not and he is forced to hear and see whatever they think. ive joked about how he is always in gossip but. he literally cannot get out of it because he is such a kind person, that he wants to help.

and he gets to see all sides of them whether they show it or think it. kaidos letter. kaido defending yumeharu. hairos determination. yumeharus dedication. teruhashi and her utility of her own abilities. nendo with his mom and job and how he threw away millions of yen to save a drowning kid. kusuo is always there to see any part of that, and he gets a more in depth experience while choosing friends. should i mention that all those examples are things that kusuo didnt use his powers to observe? they were all things that he used his normal senses to find out or watch or overhear. it is very important to both kusuo himself along with the audience that he didnt use his powers to watch them be themselves and nice in all those situations as a normal teenager.

and i find it important that over time, and these experiences cumulate, that he slowly figures out that these are good, genuine people. sure they can be weird or perverted or cunning, but at the end of the day, they care about him and it only comes out so blatantly when they plan a surprise party specifically for him.

because many of us (hopefully) have wondered. what is inside our friends minds? and saiki has the answer. and he can see that they mean well. he may not understand most people and their emotions, but he knows some basics. and perhaps that could be enough to get him to live normally.

not to mention kuniharu and his convo with kusuo... despite some of the grief i give the man for constantly demanding his son do things for him, he knows his kid well. that convo is totally the pinnacle of their entire relationship, kusuos feelings, his friends.

kusuo mentioned that he doesnt tell his parents about new powers in fear they will demand more things and become lazy but. they care about him and know him. they understand his aversion to friends and know when to help him out or to push him to be around them.

he aided in that surprise birthday party but he also encouraged kusuo to go to his party that his friends threw for him. and he overhears that conversation without his telekinesis. because they actually know him and they all agree upon it. its not as in he is looking into their minds. he hears them through the door.

so he cant come to the conclusion that it was just a private thought that nobody wanted to voice aloud. no, they all agreed upon it. and they all verbally agreed to be nicer. just as his dad had said they would

it was weird seeing saiki kusuo smiling like that because he isnt one to do that and his friends know him well enough to know that (despite the fact kusuo avoids them!!) and they can all agree. they were all very happy to see kusuo smiling but they knew it jsut wasnt right

every time that kuniharu sneaks off to meet with the real saiki k they want, he is always trying to get kusuo to join them as himself

he is always encouraging his son to go hang out with his friends and he is still ready to go along with what kusuo wants. he was probably ready to go back to them after that last convo if kusuo still declined. but his words definitely got to kusuo because there arent that many people in the world who can understand kusuo so well

i know ive made fun of this but everyone around him sees him all wrong in their minds. they see the damsel in distress eyes or the idiot circle eyes. they hear a high pitch and weak voice. but not his parents. kusuos dad actually knows who he is and accepts him and loves him and encourages him to live out his dream of being normal by telling kusuo about what being normal is really like. to have friends who love you and go out of their way to try and make your day. kuniharu has to 'lecture' kusuo in order to get him to understand that the reason he was staying away was not because the classmates were 'bullying' or 'being annoying' from the kindness and love of their own decisions. it was because kusuo was scared of hurting them or disappointing them or even for them to abandon him.

and of course, that is a very common teenage feeling!! the fear of disappointing your friends- of course its normal!! saiki kusuo is a normal kid with not so normal powers attached to him.

[crybaby-bkg]

I know I've talked about bull and bear hybrid Bakugou, but has anyone ever talked about lion hybrid Bakugou???? I thought about this concept when I was still half asleep this morning but like,,,,

lion hybrid bakugou with his big ole head and even bigger mane of hair, all soft, colored like the sand you'd dig your toes into at the beach. he has a little scruff on his chin, but he never grows it out because he hates the upkeep of it.

he's always loud, growly yawns whenever you see him, his canines sharp and pointy when he opens his maw wide enough for you to peek in. he's so big and soft where it matters, lazes around all day everyday, and gets these big bursts of energy at the most random of moments. he's basically an overgrown cat basically

omg and he has this complex where he's just sooo high and mighty, like he's some king meant to be worshipped. but all you have to do is kiss his cheeks and rub a hand through his hair when he lays his big dumb head in your lap, and he's purring up a storm.

and and and lion hybrid bakugou whose tongue can feel so rough when he's feeling lazy about it, but somehow knows how to work it just right whenever he wants to lounge between your legs. gets so huffy and growly when you mumble that you can't cum anymore, just nudges your thighs a little wider with his shoulder as he nuzzles his nose against your mound. doesn't care to hear any of your complaining, because he's still eating and doesn't intend on finishing until he's ready.

omg and and lion hybrid bakugou whose favorite position is, of course, doggy style. but only because he gets to wrap your little dainty neck up in his powerful jaws and pin you there, likes how you whimper and shiver but go limp either way because you trust him with your life. he pins your arms beside your head and grunts so loud into your nape when he finally sinks his cock inside of you. he practically lays flat on top of you, just rutting his hips against your ass over and over until he knots you.

which is his favorite part because you two get to just lay there for what feel like hours, and you keep coming intermitally because he can't help but rut his hips a few more times, and hiss at the way his knot tugs at your clenching lips. sigh just lion hybrid bakugou who looks so mean and intimidating but he just loves you so much and can't get enough of you

[kidvoodoo]

Jeest Mafia AU, snippet under the cut 💚💙

Joost tried not to make eye contact with anyone at the airport, though the stares he received at his battered face were inevitable. How many tall, blond, bandaged, bruised and bloody men were in a hurried rush to the terminal? Odds say: not many.

‘Not that I should be thinking about odds right now’ chided his conscience, ‘that’s how I got into this mess in the first place…’

His pace didn’t falter despite the looks from the other passengers lining up in their respective lines. All of them with bags and luggage alike underarm or trailing behind them, his own, suspiciously absent.

No time to pack, clothes on his back, phone, wallet and a little vial of two small white pills. Security checkpoint nearly put an end to those, but a desperate, puppy-eyed look and his disheveled state made the officer roll her eyes and wave him through, for all she knew, or anyone knew, it was aspirin.

‘Fix more than a headache’ his inner thoughts sneered, ‘steady on Joost, for emergencies only’.

He kept his eyes on the gate numbers, briefly glancing at the destinations. Cabo, Shanghai, Johannesburg, each a far flung place he could have potentially laid low in for months, relax on some resort beach or in a high class penthouse…

But that’s not where he’s headed.

He spies the glowing gate number, the destination? Helsinki, Finland. He got the ticket the same day he got the phone call telling him to leave as fast as possible, his usually calm and monotone source had an edge of panic to their voice, Joost trashed the burner after that and shredded the last of his books and burned them. He left his apartment as the ashes were still smoldering.

Finland eh? The only clue of what was happening next was the note in the ticket envelope, hurried scrawling in broken Dutch gave him simple instructions:

Taxi to the airport, pay in cash. Get on the plane. Make sure you are in the camera view the whole time, locate the Air Marshal and watch him. Once you are off the plane, head to the pick up zone in the parking lot and look for the black limo. Tap on the driver’s side window and give the password.

“Here for Tommy’s boy” he mutters under his breath. The magic words that’ll guarantee his safety and freedom, or will land him a bullet between the brows…

Better than the alternative.

He’s on time for the early boarding and hands the Steward his ticket, eyeing the Air Marshal at the doors to the plane’s walkway. He’s given a smile and some well wishes for his flight and finally, for the first time in several days, he feels a little sliver of calm wash over him.

‘Can’t cut me up on the plane you fuckers’

He finds his seat, window view and close to the front of the plane and plops down, the ache in his joints and back starting to flare up since the adrenaline begins to wear off.

Finland…he’s uncertain exactly what is waiting for him there, he regrets not grabbing a translation booklet at the terminal kiosk but there was simply no time. His new phone is IP hidden for the time being till he can get a VPN to bounce his signal, so no using Google’s underwhelming translation system…

He thinks back to a conversation he overheard at a conference last year. The big guys were all there, each of them with a meaty bodyguard in tow and a pistol or two brandished in plain sight.

He was there on happenstance, just finishing up the numbers to hand to his boss for the last fiscal year when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Baltic’s are at it again,” his boss sneers, tapping his cigar onto the floor, “think they’ll hide behind the Nordic cunts so they don’t have to play anymore”.

“Hm.” Another well dressed older man hums in response. He’s the police liaison, a former Captain who’s been working with the mob for 40 years. “Not much to be done about it Albert, the Fins have the advantage now, I hear they’ve even brought Estonia into the fold now.”

Albert snorts, getting to his feet and giving a couple other well-dressed people a farewell wave.

“Cuz of that little shit,” he grumbles, motioning his bodyguard to get a move on. “What’s his name? Kät-something? The Union fucker.”

“Käärijä,” the former Police Captain supplies, “his Union is very bold for an upstart, cutting off the trade in the Baltic’s disrupts everything. Heard he’s in talks of making a deal with the Norwegians as well. That’s the case? Say goodbye to the big money”.

Joost tried to linger as long as possible to catch the last bit of conversation, tucking himself against the wall and listening close.

“Damn idiot, Norway doesn’t play with the new players, even if the young lady is supposedly running things over there now. He’s a fucking lunatic to think the Baltic’s will stay loyal, he’ll be done by the end of the year, mark my words-“

A dinging noise jolts him awake from his daze, the Flight Attendants are doing their safety check. The doors to the plane are closed and for the first time in weeks, months even, Joost’s tense shoulders drop with exhaustion.

He is safe. For now.

<><><>

Roughly three hours later, he startles awake.

The voice over the intercom of the plane cabin announces in several languages that they have arrived at Helsinki Airport and will begin the landing process momentarily.

He spares a glance around the cabin out of paranoia, nothing out of the ordinary and no unwanted eyes in his direction.

Twenty minutes later and he’s heading out of the plane and into the airport terminal. The weather outside is gray and snowy, the sky a mass of colorless clouds and the sun choked somewhere behind. He shivers just looking at the weather, his cheap suit jacket will definitely not suffice.

He heads down the walkways and tried not to get too overwhelmed with the directions, mostly in Finnish but thankfully also in English.

He’s only a hundred feet from the parking lot when he feels eyes on his back. He tries subtly to peak behind and catch if he’s being followed.

Two men, both in dark blue suits and expensive leather shoes, each sporting a grim, intense expression. They have their hands in their pockets.

Joost picks up his pace, eyes focused on the automatic doors that swing open and shut.

He can hear them closing behind him, their shoes loud against the tiles. He starts to jog.

He doesn’t stop to apologize to the people he pushes past to get out of the door, ignoring the scowls and curses thrown his way. His heart is hammering in his chest, he has but a minute to locate the car before he’s dragged off and butchered in a dark corner…

A car horn blares loudly as he flinches and freezes, he had walked right out in front of a pair of high beams, his eyes don’t have time to adjust as he hurriedly runs around to look.

Black limousine, tinted windows with triple thick bulletproof glass and chrome trimming. The driver’s side window rolls down, a bald man with sunglasses and a mustache regards him blankly.

“P-please,” he stammers, eyes catching the two suited men finally breaching the threshold. “I-I’m being followed-“

“What is phrase?” The driver interrupts, not at all phased by the situation in the slightest.

“Th-the wha-oh yes yes, it’s uh…” he swallows takes a breath and speaks the words softly enough for the man to hear him.

“I’m here for Tommy’s boy.”

The door at the back of the limo clicks open, beckoning him inside.

He all but dives into the car and slams the door shut just as the two men make a dash towards the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks mere feet away.

Joost doesn’t have the time to take in his surroundings as he sees what has halted his stalkers. In the split second before the limo peels out with a loud screeching of tires, the window on the opposite side is down just enough to see the startled and blanched faces of the two men, who find themselves held in place by a man aiming a 45 caliber handgun at them.

Were it to fire at point blank range, one of the two men would have nearly had his torso blown open. More than a lethal shot, truly overkill at that point.

The car peels out of the lot and before he knows it, Joost is tossed back into he seat as the limo put some speedy distance between him and the danger.

A loud curse and sound of a window being rolled up. Joost finally levels his eyes behind his cracked glasses to see his savior.

Sitting across from him now with the gun held loosely in his grip is a dark haired man with pale skin. He sports a blunted bowl cut and his facial hair is trimmed and tidy. He wears a long black coat with a layered polo necked jumper and a couple silver chains around his neck. The jewelry matches his pierced ears and nose rings, the whole of his attire is expensive and modern looking.

Joost is drawn into the man’s piercing eyes, blue like his own but with an edge of silver steel, made more intimidating and entrancing by the heavy makeup that lines them.

The man is staring at him, Joost’s palms immediately start to sweat.

“I uh,”

“You are the Dutchman we take in?” The man interrupts, his voice has an hint of annoyance, Joost nods politely and holds out his hand to shake.

“Yes, I mean to say, thank you,” he tries to muster a charming smile but finds himself pinned under the man’s gaze like a deer being watched through a hunter’s scope.

“I’m sure this is a bit of trouble for you-“

“Trouble? I say it is bigger trouble for you and not me. You need a drink yes? I have gin and brandy here.” The man all but ignores whatever Joost was trying to say and busies himself with pouring a drink from a side bar containing glasses and some bottles. “Brandy since the gin is warm, I not have a lot of time to get it ready.”

Joost wants to say something, anything to this stranger but finds himself at an utter loss for words. The man looks at him expectantly, pushing the glass of amber liquor into his hands.

“There you drink that, feel better afterwards. You say you looking for Tommy’s boy? That is what he tell you to say? He think he is funny man, he gonna have to explain to me…” the man trails off, eyes now scanning and taking in Joost’s disheveled appearance. “You have injury? I have some bandage here and some other things uh,” the man stops and searches for a word. “you know, doctor supplies?”

“First aid kit?” Joost supplies.

“Ah yes yes! That is it,” the man grins and digs around a bit before huffing in annoyance and opening the little sliding window to the driver’s compartment. He asks for something in Finnish and the bald man replies. Information gathered, he opens a compartment and fishes out a nondescript black case.

“Okei here it is. Let me see your hand, you have blood on your palm.” He does? Joost was in such a mad dash to get away from the goons who had jumped him back in the Netherlands he didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. He holds out his hand timidly and the man yanks it none too gently to inspect.

“No stitches I think,” he hums, grabbing supplies to clean and patch the gash on Joost’s palm.

The man’s grip is firm and steady, there is warm radiating from beneath the leather gloves he wears.

“You are Mr. Klein eh?” The man says absentmindedly as he cleans the wound. “I hear you screw your boss out two million euros, not bad.” The man smirks, eyes flickering up to Joost’s face. “I like someone who disrupts the status quo. When Tommy say you in trouble, I had to do something about it. Would be a waste for you ending up in concrete.”

Joost cringes a little at the mention of his dilemma, taking a long gulp of his drink and reveling in the burn.

“I don’t know about disruption, I just did what I thought was right is all. Didn’t think it would go this far…” he wishes he could be more proud, he did take a chunk of money from the hands of the worst men in Europe. Now, he’s a marked man, possibly forever.

The dark haired man seems to sense his discomfort and finishes dressing his hand, grabbing a gauze patch and passing it over.

“What is done is done, you think it is bad thing now, but you make a big move, and now you have a big advantage for the war that is coming.”

Joost finishes placing the gauze over the gash on his cheek, looking at the man puzzlingly.

“What war? And what advantage are you talking about?”

The man leans back against his seat and smiles, his sharp canines peak over his lips and his expression is one of amusement and vicious excitement.

“The war between the Union and the Old Men, tear down their ruined kingdom and make our own. The advantage? That’s easy,”

The man chuckles darkly.

“You have Käärijä in your corner now.”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Y'know, it's unfortunate more people don't compare Louis and Violet in good faith.

Like, when I do see people compare them, it's usually through the lens of one is good, and the other bad. One is more canon than the other, and here's why. One is objectively better for Clementine, and the other is less impactful, worse written, didn't have chemistry with her, insert several insults here, etc.

I don't think it's inherently bad to express why you might not like one of them, or why you prefer one over the other. That's fine, that's a matter of opinion. It only gets to me when it becomes hostile, or passive aggressive... but even then, I've learned to just roll my eyes and move on. Some people make it very clear that they're not worth having a discussion with.

However, I wish I could read more nuanced comparisons of the two that didn't default to the "and that's why this one is better." At least some are kind enough to tack on a "for my Clementine" at the end.

You know how it goes: Louis is cute and he makes Clementine laugh, whereas Violet's boring, her love is shallow, she's still not over Minerva and she's using Clementine as a rebound. Violentine's a bad ship because Violet's actually a traitor, and they're practically the same person and that's bad.

Violet's loyal and reliable, whereas Louis is annoying, he never takes anything serious, he's a traitor for his vote, and he's nothing but a distraction. Clouis is a bad ship because how could any Clementine possibly like him after he voted her and AJ out? That's bad!

That's always the conclusion, right? One good, one bad.

This is incredibly limiting and it drives me nuts.

They're foils. They contrast one another, highlight each other's strengths and flaws, in such an interesting way that it makes Clementine's choice between them all the more meaningful.

One is not good and the other bad, they're different, and I think that's worth exploring.

Let's start with a common argument: Violet is the more impactful option due to her connection to Minerva.

Now, to be fair, I can understand why someone on Team Violet would believe this. Yes, it's true that the confrontation with Minerva is more impactful for a violentine shipper who has more investment in Violet as a character. Louis doesn't have as strong of a connection to her.

However, what they're failing to recognize is that Minerva isn't the only ghost to haunt this narrative. Violet may have Minerva, yes, but Louis has Marlon... and that doesn't just go away once Marlon's dead.

Violet's route has Minerva as her ex-girlfriend, and her bond with Tenn that all comes to a head on the bridge. Louis' route has Marlon's death and how that specifically impacts his relationship with AJ and Clementine, and the slow burn of forgiveness on all sides.

Marlon and Minerva are also reflective of Clementine's worst outcomes.

Clementine and Marlon were tied together through Brody's blood splattered on their hands and faces. They both killed a part of Brody, but only one of them lies about who killed her first.

After Marlon dies, Clementine gradually replaces him throughout the game; Rosie is her dog now, she uses his bow [which Louis gave her], she becomes the leader. Clementine gets them to fight back, and when three of her people are captured, she doesn't cut her losses. She does what Marlon couldn't; "we're getting them back."

When she chooses Louis, he does for her what he never did for Marlon: he steps up.

Clementine proves she won't become Marlon just as she proves she won't become Minerva.

After getting James to agree to help them, Clementine and AJ talk about what to do if she ever gets bit. AJ says he'd want her to bite him, too. He repeats this sentiment after she's actually bitten, telling her he wants to stay and they could turn together, peacefully.

When Minerva confronts them on the bridge, she's dying... and she wants Tenn to die with her. She doesn't care who she has to kill in the process. She's more monster than human at this point, and most times, she succeeds.

They're both bitten. Clementine could've become a monster like Minerva in the end. She could've killed AJ, and they could've become walkers together. But she didn't. Minerva wanted Tenn to die for her, and Clementine wanted AJ to live for her.

Also, I should mention she has Minerva's axe. She carries the key weapons associated with Marlon and Minerva throughout different points in the game, further solidifying these connections. She uses Marlon's bow to save her friends, and she uses Minerva's axe to save AJ, who in turn uses it to save her.

What's also so interesting about this is how Marlon's alive in episode one, and Minerva is thought to be dead. Louis has his best friend, and Violet's lost hers. But, at the end of the episode, Marlon's dead and Minerva's revealed to be alive.

Marlon becomes the ghost, and Minerva becomes the monster. Clementine becomes to Louis and Violet what Marlon and Minerva never could... how does that not drive anyone else insane?

So, no. One is not objectively better, or more impactful, because of a connection to Marlon or Minerva. They're different. It just depends on which storyline you personally find more compelling.

Actually, let's talk about that a little more.

In my opinion, the most intriguing point of comparison between Louis and Violet stems from their perceptions of survival, and how that impacts Clementine.

An argument I see made against violentine is that Violet's boring because she and Clementine are too similar. This usually comes from clouis shippers who prefer the "opposites attract" dynamic Clementine and Louis have.

On the flip side, there's the counter argument that Louis is reckless, that he doesn't take survival as seriously as he should and Clementine wouldn't want him because of that.

These are interesting to me because I get where they're coming from... but they ultimately miss the point.

The other day, I replayed TFS. Except this time, I did something a little bit differently. I played my usual clouis route, but then I had the violentine route pulled up on my laptop so that I could watch these scenes, comparing them side by side… and something occurred to me. 

Louis is about challenging Clementine's perception of survival, and Violet is about validating it.

Louis challenges Clementine from the very moment we meet him—he’s playing music. His initial philosophy on survival butts heads with Clementine’s. The fact that hunting with him and Aasim challenges your perception of “your choices have consequences.” These games have conditioned the player to think along the lines of, “Yeah, Louis is more fun… but if I don’t hunt with Aasim, we won’t have any food.”

Except that’s just it. I hate to say it, Aasim, but in the grand scheme of things… hunting with you doesn’t matter. It's actually less rewarding. You know why? Because in the next section, we get food from the train station. It would’ve been more beneficial to spend time with Louis over hunting, hence how he challenges you.  

This then primes you for the choice between choosing to follow Louis or follow Violet. I know people complain about how this is presented with Violet doing something productive [checking the walls] and Louis playing piano… but that’s the point. If you’re going through with Louis’ full route, you need to meet him at his level, and in turn, he will meet you at yours. You need to accept the challenge, the idea that Clementine isn’t entirely right about the way she’s gone about survival.

Oh, and do I even need to mention the vote? The debate over Louis’ vote is exhausting. Often times, people tell on themselves in how they talk about it. It’s not actually about the fact that he voted against them. If it was, these people would have a bigger bone with pick with Mitch, Willy, Ruby, and Omar… and yet Louis is the one who takes all the blame as if he’s the only one personally kicking them out. 

Louis is reacting to the death of his best friend, and the complicated feelings that come with it being caused by AJ. He wants accountability, even if he knows something's wrong. You can either agree with him that it was murder, and set AJ on the path of atonement… or, you can double down and tell him to fuck off, AJ was justified. 

But here’s the thing… the vote adds to the appeal of Louis’ route. To someone who hates him, or at the very least is critical of his vote, that sounds mad or delusional.

Except it’s really not.

Ever heard of a thing called tension? Because there’s a lot of it in ep2 between clouis + AJ and it’s fantastic.

Yes, Louis voting them out is problematic because we need a problem to solve. We need something to feed the tension between him and Clementine. He stepped in front of a gun held by his best friend in order to protect her, forever changing their relationship… only for that to seemingly be taken away from us the moment AJ shoots Marlon. 

Yes, Louis’ route is about being challenged, but it’s also about challenging him. That he’s able to forgive them, that he’s able to question his own survival philosophy and understand theirs, that he’s able to apologize and actually change for the better… that right there is what makes clouis so damn good. 

He becomes hardened whereas Clementine softens. By the end of the game, they’re on a similar level now without neglecting their differences, and they can move forward together. 

That’s what makes Louis’ route appealing… and it’s also what makes it unappealing to people who prefer Violet. 

By contrast, Violet’s already on Clementine’s level when it comes to this perception of survival. She validates that Clementine’s on the right path.

They have other similarities in the way that they’re both female, queer, they both have a kid they look after, they’re not always great with other people, etc. 

People who prefer Louis might consider this boring, but I think to Team Violet, it’s comforting. It’s comforting to have a partner who takes this as seriously as you do, who wants to get shit done. They’re playing Clementine with a similar attitude, and don’t believe it needs to be challenged. It’s comforting to feel validated on something you already firmly believe in. 

We also see this if we compare the hunting and fishing scenes. You have to make an effort to choose Louis by choosing to neglect hunting, but the game makes you fish with Violet no matter what.

Violet’s prioritizing fishing because they need food. That’s what they’ve set out to do, so let’s do it. The game is letting you know that’s the case, and if you value that, continue pursuing her. 

While fishing, they discuss why things are weird with her and Brody. Violet doesn’t take well to Clementine’s blunt, “Because you make it weird. Brody tries and you just make fun of her."

That’s understandable because I think she already kind of knows why and is looking to have her feelings validated. She prefers it when Clementine suggests that it’s because Brody never said sorry for what happened to the twins. 

There’s also comfort and validation in the way Violet sides with Clementine and AJ after Marlon’s death. She votes for them to stay, vocalizing how much she disapproves of the results. There’s this feeling that I recognize from a lot of the sapphic romance I read; “it’s you and me against the world, I’ll always have your back, even if you’re in the wrong, I’ll fight for you.”

In our case, it’s violentine + AJ against the rest of Ericson, save Tenn and Aasim. Violet validates that AJ was justified because Marlon was a liar and murderer, claiming that AJ and Clementine did nothing wrong. Violet fights to keep them. 

The tension between violentine in ep2 is different because instead of one pushing the other away, they’re being forced apart by the vote and there’s nothing they can do about it. That tension is somewhat released when Clementine comes back and they’re reunited, working out a plan to best defend the school. 

It’s also why Violet’s presented as doing something productive when you follow her instead of Louis, and why she asks if you want to hang out after checking the defenses. 

All that being said, allow me to reiterate that one is not good and the other bad, they're different. These concepts of challenge and change/validation and comfort exist on a neutral road as diverging paths. It’s up to the player to pick what path they prefer, but that doesn’t mean the other path isn’t worth acknowledging or analyzing. 

I should also mention that they’re not exclusive; there is overlap with validation being present in Louis’ route and challenges in Violet’s. They’re just more present in episodes 3 and 4 after we’ve made our decision. 

There are several more examples of how this all fits together, buuuuut–

Ya’ll wanna compare some allegories?

Those familiar with my content might already know where I’m going with this as I’ve made a post about Louis and the piano in the past. 

You see, I believe that there are allegories for Louis and Violet’s hearts present in their routes: Louis’ piano, and Violet’s pin. 

I already have a thorough, in-depth analysis of Louis and the piano that you can read, so all I’ll say about it is that on the night of the raid, he asked Clementine to carve a piece of herself into his heart so that no matter what, their initials will be immortalized together in its wood…

And that makes me fucking feral. 

But I'm also so normal about it.

As for Violet, her heart is the star gazing pin she gives to Clementine. She gives it to her so she’ll always remember that night… but she doesn’t give it to her until after Clementine’s saved her, and that fascinates me in the context of it being allegory. 

Louis asks Clementine to carve herself into his heart right before the raid, cementing that from that moment on, he is utterly devoted to her. I believe this is part of the reason why Louis is still happy to see her if he’s the one who’s captured. Yes, yes, he’s also incredibly traumatized from having his tongue cut out and he’d be happy to see anyone, yada yada… but listen, if you romance Louis and he’s captured, his heart remains with her—that piano with their intitals is on full display. When he sees her, he’s still so devoted to her that he refuses to accept that it’s at all her fault. Even when she says it is, he shakes his head... and he so easily accepts her when they’re together in the end. From the moment Clementine puts knife to wood, he’s hers. 

Now, look… you might think I’m going somewhere not great with this but hear me out. 

I think after Clementine’s gone star gazing with her, Violet is fully ready to give her heart to her. Y’know, give her the pin. But, think about what Violet said about how people have left, but Clementine came back. Plus, with the impending raid to think about, maybe Violet should keep the pin until the right moment. 

I believe a key difference between her and Louis is that Violet needs one last thing to solidify that Clementine’s the one. 

Louis gives her his heart prior to the raid because of everything that’s already gone down between them following Marlon’s death. Violet needs to know that Clementine’s willing to fight for her the way she fought before. When Clementine saves her from the raiders, it’s solidified. Even after she sees Minerva again, it changes nothing.

It’s also worth noting that the pin is something Clementine wears. Like the piano carving, it’s a piece on display for everyone to see, to let them know whose heart Clementine has.

Violet literally handed Clementine her heart as a means of saying, “I’m yours. I’m devoted to you.” 

This is why romanced/captured Violet is devastating, and is why she behaves the way she does in the cells. She was so ready to give her heart away and then nope, sorry, Vi! You get knocked unconscious by raiders instead! 

If anything, you kind of deserve to be told to fuck off if you romanced her and then let her get captured. Just sayin’. 

Look, I have a lot of complicated feelings about the captured violentine route, mostly with Violet being as forgiving as she is after her eyes are burned—yes, yes, I know, her eyes are burned and Minerva messed with her head so of course now she’s not hostile, yada, yada. 

But I think it’s rather telling that you don’t get the pin in this route. Sure, Violet’s willing to forgive and possibly pursue this romance in the future… but she’s not ready to hand over her heart, not truly. Not after everything that’s happened. 

And if you want to get extra angsty about it, imagine that Violet made the pin right after they parted ways, but before the raiders came. Meaning that if she’s captured, it’s possibly still sitting somewhere, abandoned. 

Mmhmmm, very normal about this. I feel normal. My normalness about this continues... normally. I'm not losing my shit thinking about that. Nope. Why would I? I wouldn't! So normal.

Okay just let me talk about their reactions to Tenn's death and then I'll shut up.

This makes me want to gnaw my own foot off, I can barely handle it.

AJ shoots Tenn on the bridge because Clementine trusted him to make the hard calls. This saves Louis or Violet's life.

When Louis jumps across, he's completely silent as he watches Tenn die... and then he's pissed; "What the fuck?! How could you just shoot him like that?!"

AJ explains himself, that he did it for him, and Louis is so upset that he forces AJ to look at what he's done, to watch the walkers eat Tenn; "Tenn's dead. He's dead! Do you realize that?! Look! [...] He's... he's gone, because of you. Just fucking gone."

If Clementine says AJ saved his life, Louis says, "So what, we just cut him loose? Gun him down like he was nothing?"

If Clementine says nothing, Louis says, "Tenn was just a little boy!"

The reason Louis responds this way is because in this moment, he just relived Marlon's death all over again, but worse. So, SO much worse!

When Violet jumps across, she breaks down, begging, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! No, no! No, no, no..." as she watches Tenn die... and then says to AJ, "No! What the fuck?! How could you do that?!"

AJ explains himself, that he did it for her, and Violet is faaaar from okay; "For me? I can't... Tenn is gone! That soft little boy who liked to draw, he's gone, because of you!"

If Clementine says AJ saved her life, Violet says, "You think that's okay?! Just gunning down one of our own?!"

And there it is.

Louis is hardened in this situation because he already went through this... Violet hasn't, not with AJ. She softened up throughout her route due to her relationships to him and Clementine... but this is the moment where she realizes that maybe AJ wasn't as justified as she believed, and this is the consequence.

This leads us to the ending where AJ asks if they're still mad about him killing Tenn, and I just... I'm biting my foot right now because the script has flipped.

Louis is forgiving and understanding. He's soft, he's sympathetic, he shakes AJ's hand to let him know that all is forgiven and they're okay; "I... AJ, I guess it's like... You saw something I didn't. About the situation, I mean. Minnie and the walkers and Tenn, it's just all this chaos in my head when I think back on it. [...] Clem says you saved my life? Well, then, that's exactly what you did. And how can I stay mad at anyone for doing that?"

Or, alternatively, "He was your friend, AJ. I know you are hurting just as much as I am."

As for Violet? She's understanding, too... but she's not quite ready to forgive yet; "The thing you said on the bridge...that he was messing up all the time. It wasn't something new, you know. Tenn got himself or other people into trouble all the time, long before you guys got here. He was always so lost. He lived in a world that just...isn't there, you know? And that's why I tried to look after him. But when I was pulling him away from the walkers, and Minnie, I could also see...he just wasn't there anymore."

"So you're mad, but sad."

"Can I be that for a while?"

And it's completely understandable that she's hurting and struggling with how she feels about AJ moving forward! She wants to be okay, she wants to forgive him, she just needs time.

Now, because I'm forever bitter, but I'm gonna mention this as well: whenever I see someone point at Violet's scene and say, "See!? This is how LOUIS should've acted in ep2!" like... they're telling on themselves again. Not just that they don't understand Louis as a character or his route, but that they don't fully grasp Violet's part in this either. Or time frames, for that matter.

Let me put it to you in simple terms... they react the same.

After Marlon and Tenn die, they're upset. They're pissed. They blame AJ and yell at him. After they've had time to process what happened [Louis after the two week time skip, Violet after time passes between the bridge and the ending] they share the same, "I'm still upset about Marlon/Tenn. Can I be that for a while and still be your friend?" sentiment.

The difference is that Louis is treated poorly for it because of the vote, and because we feel it first hand for longer... Violet got to grieve off screen and come back after she's sorted herself out.

It's a disservice to both of their characters because it's rooted in that same mentality that I criticized at the beginning: "This is why one is better than the other."

Do I need to say it again? I'm gonna say it again.

One is not good and the other bad. They're different.

There are so many fun discussions that could come from putting Louis and Violet side by side, and examining them. I haven't even covered the different ways they're introduced, or compared their ep3 dates to see what it says about them and the overall narratives! What about the cell scenes!? How they react when Dorian's about the cut off their fingers! The way they approach James upon meeting him!

That last one in particular is especially funny! They're all under stress about blending in with a herd of walkers to infiltrate a boat to save their friends, and yet Louis easily saunters up to the guy wearing walker skins with a smile, and makes him laugh by saying, "Functional and fashionable. I'll take two."

Violet approaches James like he's an injured wild animal that's going to bite her, and bless her heart, she tries with, "I, uh… hey. Hey there, James. Sorry about Willy." Then James gives her this judgmental side-eye, like buddy? She's not the weirdo here.

There is so much potential to dissect here, and I want to see people do it... but I want them to do it fairly, in good faith.

I want to get away from the idea of comparing them to "prove" which is better because there is no objective better. There isn't! That's a waste of time!

I'm so done with The Debate™; it's unhelpful, it's annoying, and it's boring as shit. I've heard it all before, and you probably have, too.

I want to put Louis and Violet under a microscope and study them with the thought process of, "one does this and the other does that... what does it mean!? what does it say about the narrative!? Oh my god, they have the same opinion on this thing, WRITE THAT DOWN!"

So yeah, that's my ramble for the night.

I'm gonna go replay TFS for further research.