#I mean it perfectly reflects who they side with politically

[elin-moon]

My personal favourite little fact thing I found about Brian Fitzpatrick (Barnaby's father) on two separate research deepdives on the Fitzpatricks.

In 1522, Brian was having some issues with Piers and Margaret Butler (ironically, his future in laws come a decade later), so he decided to write to the King of England to complain about Butler's aggresion. The messenger that he sent off to England interrupted Henry on his way to the chapel to give him the message. It said this:

"Sta pedibus, Domine Rex! Dominus meus Gillepatricus me misit ad et te jussit discere quod si non vis castigare Petrum Rufum, ipse faciet bellum contra te."

I was curious about what this said, and both books I found it in didn't offer a translation, so I decided to look it up on google. I ended up using google translate (I know, not a trustworthy source). The very VERY rough translation of the message is this:

"Stand on your feet, Lord King! My lord Gillepatricus has sent me to and ordered you to learn that if you do not want to punish Peter Rufus, he will make war against you."

And you don't understand how much I laughed over this. This motherfucker from tiny little Ossory in Ireland threatened the KING OF ENGLAND, and not just a king of england, but the HENRY VIII, with WAR! Do you understand the amount of audacity this man had to have had to do something like this? He either was batshit insane or had literally no fucks to give to probably write out this message, look it over and say "Yes, this is what I want to send to the king"

Imagine how Henry must've felt hearing this message from essentially a near nobody (to him) from Ireland, threatening a whole ass war against him if he doesn't get what he wants. Maybe he found it hilarious, or maybe he was utterly flabbergasted and offended, who knows? Apparently there is no record of Henry's reaction to the message, which is disappointing, because either way, I bet it was entertaining!

Imagine over a decade later, when Brian submits to the Surrender and Regrant policy, and Henry just sees his name and his face and thinks "I recognise you from somewhere" and he just gets flashbacks to the fucking message.

The more you think into it, the goofier it all gets. Brian Fitzpatrick truly was something special, I love him.

[todorokies]

RUMOR HAS IT - suguru geto

✩࿐ the streets of london have now been considered a danger for citizens when a blood hunger vampire prowls looking for their next lady in waiting . . .

contents: very suggestive, fem!reader, vampire!geto, geto is bewitched by you(r blood), nanami cameo, nineteenth century gothic victorian era, this leans towards the thriller side, reader is a bit naive, a wee bit of manipulation, blood drinking, usage of ‘m’lady’, inspired by the song ‘rumor has it’ by adele & this tweet, 2.5k words

a/n: there is a lot of imagery written !!! i truly hope u all like it, reblogs & supportive feedback is welcome ik the wc is a lot but pls bare with me :”) . . . apart of @kentopedia’s ‘love through the ages’ collab

the sun has begun to shift into its everlasting transition of casting soft orange hues of light that are softly entangled with a dark shade of blue that covers up above. the moon had tucked its companion away for the time being as it began to come into view.

the current state of main street however didn’t reflect the tranquillity of peace; the town clock had loudly reverberated alerting the public of the danger that would soon lurk.

citizens both young and old trampled out of buildings leaving a simple gust of wind in their wake to reach their residences.

a curfew had recently been implemented by the town council in order to reduce the sudden influx —dubbed as animal attacks— of women being found lifeless on the cold streets, with their blood being completely drained from their bodies.

but alas, the troublesome rumours of the attacks being performed by a person rather than an animal, rattled in, heightening the unpleasantries.

the rotten smell of fear lingers in the air with the pumping adrenaline coursing through the towns folks veins. if the perpetrator weren’t foolish enough, an entire course meal has been presented onto a platter for them.

“staring won’t do you any good if you end up dead.” nanami, your coworker, noted who was packing the last of the bakery’s unsold goods in a bag to be taken home.

you quickly drew away from the windowsill, “doesn’t the site of it all make you miserable. this new curfew has done nothing but made everyone even more frightened.”

nanami’s features softened and pursed his lips in a thin line before sighing. “the curfew is sensible in hindsight, but when rules are enforced people have a sudden urge to break them, mainly to figure out what animal—”

“—or person,” you sharply cut him off which causes his eyebrows to crinkle.

“i mean, let’s face it, what kind of animal leaves two perfectly clean puncture wounds on the neck and abandons the body as it is without any carnage?”

a beat follows before you continue, “this is obviously the work of some mad scientist in town looking to make a name for themselves.”

he sighs, “animal or …person, you shouldn’t be standing here chatting with me about it.”

his eyes twinkle with remorse whilst handing the bag of baked goods over to you, “i could chaperone you to your residence, you do live on the outskirts of town. i deeply worry about your safety.”

you lightheartedly scoff, politely waving off the suggestion. “nonsense kento, i always seem to have luck on my side, the walk home will be uneventful as always.”

he frowns at this.

you can be extraordinarily stubborn at the most inappropriate times.

“besides what would society think once they see an unwed woman getting escorted by the opposite sex. you should hurry home yourself! send my kind regards to yuuji for me.”

you bunch up the detailed lace of your overflowing gown in one hand while holding the brown bag of pastries in the other.

swiftly scurrying off into the abandoned streets, “do take care of yourself!”

“get home safely and hurry before the streetlights turn on!” nanami yells out the door before locking up the establishment and heading on his own way.

the cobblestone beneath your feet painfully ached and crumbled apart with each passing step you took. shutters from other houses forcefully swung open from the wind that picked up overtime, soon a ghastly fog began to move in, hindering some of your vision.

you truthfully dreaded this. nanami’s offer is still mulled in the back of your head, you mentally slap yourself for dismissing a comforting and preferably safer option of returning home.

however, dwelling on the what if’s have never been your cup of tea, instead you attempt to take in the scenery of the town in it’s glory.

the eerie atmosphere reminded you of an agatha christie novel you’ve once read. the fond memory warms you up in the dead of night.

soon your manor appears into view. relief immediately washes over you, a small breath of air exited your lungs.

but then you hear it; an extra set of footsteps a mile or two from behind you that rippled the cement.

too heavy of a stride to be another woman in heels and too human-like to be a four legged animal. with each step you took, they would take on another, almost in sync to throw you off their suspicions.

you felt bare and exposed as the only thing that you could focus on was the tangible breeze rattling your bones, fingers turning numb and losing its feeling. your head buzzed considering the only two options to best handle the situation: continue the venture to your housing or confront the entity.

continuing your journey would result in the mysterious entity gaining knowledge of your location. whereas, standing idly waiting for the perpetrator’s next move would result in you being the newspaper’s front headliner.

you’ve concluded the mental battle with yourself on cutting through the woods and loosing whomever is behind you in the dust.

just as you were about to pick up your feet, a tap by a set of fingers rippled against your shoulder causing you to shriek.

“m’lady, i believe you dropped this.” a sultry voice booms through your ears that belonged to a man so majestic you couldn’t comprehend. your breath staggers while your mouth hang slightly agape.

he was as pale as a lilith in its full bloom but still managed to glisten under the moonlight. monolid eyes sharpened that showcased nothing but intensity and gluttony.

you couldn’t dare away, especially not when his gaze has your flesh burning to the touch as heat pools between your legs, an endless void of lust and mystery.

somehow breaking out of his enchantment, you regain consciousness, blinking away the blurriness and swiftly take the handkerchief he handed to you and stuff it in your dress pocket.

“o-oh, thank you kind sir,” your words heavily slurs past your lips.

his overwhelming aura seemingly switches, presenting more of a laid back approach when speaking to you.

“what’s a dream like you doing roaming the streets at this hour?” he inquired.

it’s almost like whiplash— fear surging from every portion of your body to feeling a sense of ease with his presence around.

your face warms up. subconsciously picking at the skin that surrounds your nail beds. “just trying to make my way home, i had picked up a late shift from—”

“the bakery in town square, correct?”

taking a step, his taller frame leaned a quarter into your personal space suddenly being consumed by his aroma. sweetness mixed with a hint of sandalwood and lavender.

his fingers weakly pranced around a single strand of your hair that had been loose, meticulously swirling it about in a specific way that only pleased him.

only then were you able to come about his long raven locks that were styled in a charming half-do that seemingly blended in with the sinful sombre of the midnight sky.

your pulse amplified, picking up like the speed of lightning. your hands soon began accumulating sweat just by a single question.

despite town square serving the population of two countries bound together, not once have you had the pleasure of encountering this man.

he was far too bewitching to grace the status of a commoner. no, he must be a figure of royalty or at least had rich wealth flowing through his blood, but he showcases no obvious signs of luxury.

just who was this man exactly?

he watches you regain control over your psyche, backing away which lets the strand of hair he possessed on his finger seemingly bounce free.

“enlighten me. how do you possess knowledge of the location of my employment? my eyes have never seen someone of the likes of you before.”

he senses utter hostility from you. the entire cobbled street reeks of your fear. he can practically taste your appetizing disdain on the tip of his tongue.

his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth to conceal the withering moan that elicited from his core; you’re unsettled by him which only fuels his erogenous.

he playfully surrenders his hands in the air as if you had just caught him in an obtuse act, “what, pray tell, are you insinuating?”

you scoff, “do you take me for a mockery?” your voice doesn’t waver, eyebrows cinched together with lips into a firm line.

he simply tuts, “only a well put together woman like yourself could gain employment at such a high end bakery that stands in town square. i based such an assumption off my judgement . . . forgive me, m’lady.”

your eyes cautiously scan his face to detect any signs of playfulness that went against his explanation. when none was present, it was your cue to ease up on your suspicions.

with a sharp intake of air, your tense shoulders unwind themselves from your ears as you straighten out your dress trying to knead at any wrinkles.

the bakery in town has built a famous name for itself, being known as one of the most ancient buildings standing tall, as well as offering fresh pastries throughout many wars and battles.

different hierarchies from all across the globe have made it their mission to invest in a trade deal of importing the bakery’s goods in exchange for many benefits.

“then again, you find yourself situated on this street conversing with an utter stranger during after hours. so pray tell, who exactly is the jester here?” he dryly asks.

the warm energy circulating between the two of you came to a sudden halt as the tension quickly grew cold.

his voice is fervent. a barbaric ignorance flows naturally in his tone as if he was challenging you, which is much different than how he addressed your inquiry.

truthfully suguru was growing impatient by the minute. he has worked all of the charms in the book but you still haven’t given him an opening for what he wanted the most. your body, soul and most importantly; your blood.

he salivated at the sight of the minuscule veins on your neck becoming more prominent when your voice raises an obtuse or two.

the excruciating torment of his body thumping with thirst made his head throb. his tongue swirled hungrily around his sharp left fang in anticipation. 

if you had blinked, you would’ve missed how he traveled at the speed of light. a gust of wind swept through the streets as a strong swooshing of air caused the ends of your dress to get caught up in the wake. suddenly, you were face to face again with the mystery man, his nose ever so gently grazing yours, feeling his cold breath onto your lips.

his eyes carefully scans your features, taking notice of the crease between your eyebrows. “you aren’t aware of my name yet you give me your time of day? or rather night that is? i feel honoured.” he purrs.

your heart collapses to your feet. what in god’s name were you doing?

allowing yourself to get seduced by a nameless maniac on the street at the devil’s hour. letting your head get filled to the brim with such deception and trickery. your bread must’ve gone stale and you hadn’t noticed until now how terribly your feet ached from standing for so long.

your brain screamed at you to pick up your feet and dash out of a sickly situation you’ve unfortunately found yourself in. but to no avail your soles stood firmly in place, you pitied yourself for still being under his aphrodisiac.

your eyes sting as tears begin to well up into the base of your waterline. he shushes you by lightly tapping his index fingers against your bottom lip then leans into the shell of your ear, “you were the most naive out of others yet the most challenging one, what is your secret, m’lady?”

the only thing you could muster up in the moment was a faint, “p-please don’t hurt me…”

to that, suguru’s current expression gets replaced by a look of genuine remorse. he smiles fondly, his eyes forming into crescent moons. “you mustn’t worry, i have different plans for you. now be a darling and tilt your head for me.”

his eyes glowed a crimson hue that casted a reflection in your own eyes. his divine string of words compelled you to follow his demand, having no conscious influence over your own actions.

he could see your arteries viciously pumping oxygen. unstable hollow breaths depart from your plump lips.

what a delightful sight you are.

finally, his fangs penetrate your fragile skin causing goosebumps to arise upon impact as angry scarlett red seeps out of the two puncture holes he’d created.

you gasp, your head is frantically bubbling with heat as your knees buckle, static shoots through your joints feeling vibrations all over your body.

he gently cradles the back of your head with one hand using his grip to better his angle on his landscape. drowsiness consumes you whole. feeling yourself slowly slipping into a labyrinth that only the man in front of you has the key to.

your whimpers and soft pants fill the air. your stomach soon coils with a pleasant sensation of pleasure, you’ve truly gone mad as you bite your lip to cover up the choked up moans from the pleasurable aches of pain.

your eyes roll back to the sky, mentally counting the stars until your body decides to shut down what leftover functions it had left.

your eyes softly flutter open, wincing almost immediately from the dim overhead lap that shines directly in your face.

you’re currently lying on top of the broody velvet red loveseat that resided in your manor’s foyer. how you got home is beyond your comprehension.

suddenly the horrific memories of this particular night floods in your head like a tsunami.

that man… his fangs…the blood.

your hand quickly flies towards the area of the wound that resided on your neck, which to your surprise, is covered by a heavily padded gauze that will soon need to be changed once you get up.

who or what brought you home and tended to your wound? was it that man or maybe he had left you on the streets, barely alive when another lost soul roaming at the witching hour took you home.

you spot a glass of water on the floor that had a note taped onto it next to your bagged pastries. you cautiously pick up the glass to hydrate your overly dry throat then carefully peel the paper off the glass to read the note.

the contents of the note reads:

i have seeked high and low for the purest form of life, to find a companion worthy enough to indulge me in this wretched world of misery but yet, you were found from right under my nose.

your purity sings to me like a songbird o’holiest of thee. a crystallized soul patiently waiting for a body to mold.

your blood is as rare as black dahlia, hidden deep within the nooks of clouded nostalgia. your pastel beauty is the cure to my everlasting torment in hell.

i will return for you, my love.

always and forever yours, suguru.

tags: @cawwn @osaemu @yunymphs @megumimania @dollria @maeby-cursed @get0

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[enbysiriusblack]

december jily bingo: spiked eggnog @jilychallenge

Lily stood by the eggnog punch bowls, keeping an eye on the students pouring themselves cups. Bertram Aubrey was the other side of the bowl, his prefect badge pinned to his dress robes. Lily had thought to do the same but didn't quite want to ruin her dress, and she hoped to get out of prefect duty early so she could enjoy the yule ball herself.

"So," Bertram glanced over to her as the third year finished filling up his cup, "Did you er- Did you come with anyone?"

Lily smiled politely at him, "Oh no, it's a bit difficult to have a date to these things when I’m chaperoning."

Bertram bit his lip nervously, "Well, you could always go with another prefect. Work the event together. I mean you and me are going to be spending the ball together anyway."

Lily frowned, "Well, I suppose. But I'm not really interested in any other prefects in that way."

"Oh."

"But you're a good friend, Bertram. It'll be fun to spend the evening together, as friends, don't you think?"

"Right, yes. Of course, "he coughed awkwardly.

James sauntered up to the table, Sirius by his side.

"Hey, Evans."

Lily glared at him, "What do you want?"

"Just here for some eggnog," he held his hands up innocently.

Lily folded her arms, "You don't like eggnog."

James grinned, "How'd you know that?"

"Because you've never drank it before."

James' grin widened, "And how would you know that? Watching me, are you Evans?"

"Of course not!" She spluttered, "It's just that we've been in the same house having meals together for years now. I mean, I know Sirius always has breads with his dinner."

Sirius leaned against the table, "Dinner rolls are a perfectly normal thing."

Bertram coughed behind him, "Can you please refrain from leaning on the table? You may break it."

Sirius rolled his eyes and ignored Bertram, instead he elbowed James.

"Go on then, Mate. Get some eggnog for your date."

Lily's eyes widened, "You have a date? Who is it?"

Sirius snorted, "And why do you care?"

"I'm just curious," she stood up straighter, "Wondering who in their right mind would agree to go on a date with someone who'd spend half the time talking to their reflection in the mirror."

James and Sirius both laughed, to Lily's confusion.

At that moment, Remus rushed up to the table.

"Bertram, there's a bit of an incident in the boy’s toilets, I need your help."

"Oh", Bertram glanced to Lily, "Are you okay here alone for a minute?"

"Yeah, go, go", Lily nodded.

Bertram followed Remus away from the table and out the hall. Sirius and James both sported matching smirks that Lily firmly knew well.

"You are not spiking the eggnog."

"What?" James gasped, "We'd never."

"Then what's the incident in the boy's toilets then?"

"How would we know anything about that?" Sirius tilted his head.

"Because you clearly got Remus to go drag Bertram away on some fake problem, so there's less of us to make sure you're not adding god knows what to the eggnog."

"Or", Sirius countered, "We got Remus to drag Bertram away on a very real problem that we got Peter to cause, so there's less of you squares to make sure we're not adding some muggle rum to our own eggnog."

James shrugged sheepishly, "We're not trying to get the first year's drunk."

"Ooh", Sirius grinned, "We should try to slip some in Snivellus' though."

"Absolutely not", Lily huffed.

"Fine we won't do anything to Snivellus if you let us do one punch bowl? We'll tell the upper years about it and you can stop any kids from going for the spiked bowl?" Sirius countered.

Lily thought about it for a moment, "Fine. Just in the bowl by me then."

"Fine, fine", James sighed, grabbing a flask out of his robe pocket and poured it in whilst Sirius made sure no teachers were around.

James began to ladle a few cups.

"Make me one", Lily decided.

"What?" James paused, almost dropping the cup in his hand.

Lily huffed and grabbed ladle, pouring one herself.

Sirius and James both watched as she filled it to the brim.

"What?" She frowned at their shocked gazes, "I'm gonna need it to get through spending the evening with Aubrey."

"I could hex him for you if you like?" James offered, "Something so he needs to go to the hospital wing and miss out on the rest of the ball?"

Lily bit down a smile and shook her head, "No, thanks."

"Well, cheers", James held his own cup up.

"Cheers", Lily clinked hers.

They lingered there, smiling at each other, for a moment.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Previews have gone up for #4 of Iron Man (2024), which will guest star Wanda, as she helps Tony unravel his enemies' magical machinations, starting with an amulet he recovered from Justine Hammer. You can read the full preview here.

I want to talk about two things. First and foremost, the coloring-- we've only seen her in one page of interiors, but Wanda looks fully white. You can't even excuse the dramatic lighting, as she is barely any warmer than Tony in the following panels. These days, conversations about Wanda's skin tone are taken in bad faith on all sides, but it is a well-known fact that lightwashing is an endemic problem in the comics industry. Fans demanding accountability and consistency is the only thing that's made a difference. If, indeed, this is just a matter of lighting, then that's bad artwork. Local hue doesn't work like that.

Second, and more pressingly, I do not trust the writer, Spencer Ackerman, with this character at all. I will never, ever, forget the time that he went on Cerebro and called her the Stephen Miller of mutants. It was so gross and inappropriate, and moments like that perfectly encapsulate how the vitriol directed towards towards Wanda, in-universe, has encouraged writers and fans to say & do racist things with the character, without thought or consideration. If nothing else, it reveals Ackerman's warped perception of the Decimation and Wanda's trajectory in the years since, and shows that he, like many others, would rather project blame onto this fictional character than the writers who placed her in the center of such a politically fraught, insensitive storyline.

And this isn't old news either-- this little on-page gag from Iron Man #1 makes it clear that, even if only in the context of the Decimation, Ackerman still thinks that drawing a direct line between Wanda and genocidal nazis + right-wingers is not only appropriate, but funny.

Ackerman is more politically savvy than I'll ever be, and as a veteran journalist, he has the commendable career to prove it. By all accounts, his outlook and praxis are generally aligned with what you and I would call the right side of history. I won't dig too far into his prolonged proximity to Zionist outlets and individuals, or past expressions of concerning liberalism-- to my knowledge, this is not a reflection of his current stances.

My point is, Ackerman is well-informed on the ugliest elements of modern politics and media, and draws on this wealth of experience in his artistic endeavors. That's all well and good, but when combined with uncritical bias towards a character who happens be both a racial minority, and the subject of several enormously insensitive storylines, the end result can feel incredibly nasty and mean-spirited. And in a book which quite seriously approaches its protagonist's relationship with politics and the military industrial complex, it's hard to take any such comment lightly. I certainly hope he'll leave well enough alone, but having expressed such disdain for Wanda in the past, I seriously question Ackerman's motive in bringing her into the series so early.

[taeskooksbin]

BEGUILE ; kth

CHAPTER TWO

[ previous episode ]

[ series' masterlist ]

you respect his fucking relationship. yes you do.

i kept telling myself over and over again and searched up his details, according to the media, kim taehyung is over thirty nine years old.

and so fucking handsome.

he had a god-like body, out of the world facial features and perfect fashion sense, he almost seemed perfect. he was a well known lawyer, not only in korea, not only in italy but all around the world, everyone knew him.

he was truly a whole package of brain and beauty, a package that clearly did not belong to me.

i bit my nails anxiously and searched up another thing that was making me interested and nervous.

kim taehyung and ciandra park.

almost immediately swarms of pictures of taehyung and ciandra took over my laptop screen.

his girlfriend, ciandra, was pretty, no wait she was gorgeous. no wonder she was his girlfriend. she was over twenty seven, had a perfect symmetrical face which almost made me insecure as well, almost.

glass like tender skin almost pale like paper, perfect pair of plump lips and the most enchanting eyes ever. she had a lean and slim figure, her thin arms standing out of the most and most importantly her height.

she had no breasts whatsoever but her hips did stand out, long and healthy black hair complimenting the pale skin.

i searched her up and it turns out she was a model. of course. however to top all of the 'insecurity' that was building up in me, she also had her own fashion line, not quite popular but it did well, she was pretty-much known in business with over ninety something followers on instagram.

damn, i'm nothing in front of her, no wonder he chose her.

disappointment filled me to the brim after getting to know he was in a relationship, i mean not like i was planning on getting with him, but i did raise my hopes to at least flirt with him.

nevermind, alex will do for now.

━━━━━

"once again, how much older is he than you?" aurora asked while looking at her nails that were almost done. "twenty years" i answered back. "oh, well atleast he's handsome right?" she said.

"very much" i answered back while sophia kept doing our nails. "very well then, he isn't married right? you can shoot your shot" she said while sophia looked at us and then back at her work.

"he has a girlfriend" i sighed as i slightly rolled my eyes, "it doesn't matter 'ella, if he cheats on his girlfriend with you, that ain't your fault" she replied back.

"i don't know 'rora, it might be your thing but it's a no for me, truly" i sighed while trying my best to look at the bright side.

but no matter how much i try, he is just a forbidden fruit that i can never have.

"well it's alright but remember, if he flirts, then flirt back"

━━━━━

it was thursday and i was shirtless scared, although aurora's idea was slowly taking over me. i mean it's not my fault if he flirts with me now is it?

of course i'm not gonna make the first move but if he does it then who am i to stop? right? well, then a little bit of seducing wouldn't hurt anybody.

ugh i'm so stupid to think that he would even glance at me while leaving his model girlfriend. he wouldn't allow a dumb nineteen year old to destroy his perfectly made relationship.

but nevertheless, i got up and took out a green sleeveless dress which revealed the majority of my cleavage and ended till my knees. 'perfect' i thought as i stared at my reflection.

i was halfway through imagining my victory when i heard the main door opening, "he's here 'ella!" i heard mom yell from the kitchen and ran downstairs only to stare at the godly figure in front of me.

"fiorella, pleased to meet you" he smiled to which i smiled back at, politely.

"likewise, mr. kim" i smiled and he shook his head, "please call me taehyung" he smirked and leaned down to leave a peck at my cheeks which had my knees trembling.

i took a sniff at the expensive cologne he was wearing, only if i could wake up to this smell surrounding my whole body. not once did he glance down at my exposed legs or my cleavage which surely left me disappointed.

at least, he's loyal.

"well, where are we gonna start now?" he asked and leaned back, "will dad's office room work?" i said and he nodded. "of course, i just need to focus you anyway" he smiled and we walked to father's office room.

after reaching there, i took a note - not once did he try to stare at my cleavage of my bottoms that i was trying to use to seduce him desperately.

he saw the organised and really neat books and the things that were kept there which i made sure doesn't looks messy, he chuckled "i could not even imagine how much you were disappointed at your grades"

he looked over at where he was staring and smiled, "oh i bet you can't". he picked up one of the books, "i'm getting ptsd just by looking at it" he said while i chuckled.

"can you show me your result again? i need to know the area of improvement" he asks and takes a seat at one of the chairs while i nodded and walked to the table to grab my pad and handed him the results.

we went through the whole exam and re-solved the questions together, two minutes into it and i was feeling damn stupid.

i cursed myself fully knowing that i studied way too hard for this exam and didn't do a single thing correctly.

when we received the results, i heard the degrading chuckles of the teachers and smug faces of the people who deteriorated me into saying that i'd be better off as a housewife. the teachers were really cruel though.

"i'm feeling so damn stupid" i said as i looked at the common mistakes i made which degraded my grades more than before.

"don't be darling, do you know how many times i had to re-do my exams?" he chuckled. "wait really?"

"of course, in college, i was way too immersed in all the bad things that were called the 'cool-kid things' back then, such as drinking, partying and being a playboy, i did everything but study which cost me a huge loss" he let out a laugh.

"but even though i suffered, i'd still say that a little bit of fun wouldn't hurt anybody, instead it will refresh your mind surely" he smiled.

"but despite all the obstacles and distractions, i still managed to get through, and i'm sure you would too" he smiled and kept a hand on my shoulder encouragingly, not once did his eyes slip from my face to the cleavage.

it made me ashamed of my acts, did i come out as too desperate? or should i dress up a hot more revealingly next time?

the grades and his gentleman-like behaviour was making me overwhelmed, i was upset not because i was ashamed of my acts but because i wasn't able to woo him.

stop doing this, he's committed.

"hey, why are you crying?" he looked at me with concern lacing his voice.

"i'm sorry" i muttered, "don't be, princess, i know how hard it is for you, it is for everyone but you would pass it no matter what, i do see a lot of potential in you to do so" he said while patting my head.

"yeah, i can be a baby sometimes" i said when the embarrassment rushed through me, my cheeks blushed since at this point i was totally giving off a vibe of some spoiled daddy's princess who didn't get what she wanted.

it was the grades, in my case.

"don't worry, we'll work this through, alright?" he said and held my cheeks in his hands wiping a tear off of my face. i nodded and refrained myself from pouting when he took his hand back.

girlfriend fiorella, fucking girlfriend.

"i'm giving you some homework for today, you need to prepare for the first portion of your test and i'll return with a test next week to make sure you got everything right, is that okay with you?" i nodded

"we need to change your study method as well so how about i stop by on monday to see how you're doing, how does that sound?" he said with a little smile to which i nodded.

"thank you" i smiled and stood up. "anytime darling" he replied and stood as well, totally towering my small figure which had me ogling for a second.

he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me a bit closer to which i slightly widened my eyes, my delusional mind already making up all the possible (not) scenarios of all the possibilities of him liking me back as i wrapped my own arms around him

and thank you for the sweet words as well" i whispered in his ears sniffing his cologne. i was a bit disappointed when he pulled back since it left me extremely empty and lonely.

"not really a gentleman like behaviour if you see a pretty girl crying and don't help her out, right?" he winked a bit playfully and then broke into a gorgeous boxy smile instantly making me fangirl over him.

shit, i'm going to seduce the fuck outta him.

━━━━━

[ next episode ]

[ main masterlist ]

[iamthecomet]

Kinktober - Day 14 - Uniforms

Uniforms won out my friends. But I promise, boot worship and hate fucking soon. Anyway, you can blame thank (!!!) @miasmaghoul who blessed me not only with the pairing but also the scenario because she has the biggest brain and I love her so. I hope I've done your vision of this justice. 1.2k words of Cumulus/Aeon uniform kink and tit-fucking beneath the cut. You're welcome.

“Bug? You ok?” 

Manicured fingers wave in front of his face, thumb and forefinger pressed together into a snap that jolts enough of Aeon’s brain back into his ears to refocus. He raises his gaze to Cumulus’ eyes with difficulty. A violet blush spreading over his skin. 

When he swallows, his mouth is dry. Her head is tilted, delicate brows narrowed as she looks at him, concern etched in the creases in her forehead. Aeon clears his throat. Tells himself to keep his eyes on her face. It’s an impossible task with the way her old uniform stretches across her chest. The way it hugs every inch of her curves. Skin tight in every place that matters. Nearly painted on. Aeon folds his hands in front of his sweatpants to hide the way his cock twitches in interest. 

He didn’t mean to walk in on her while she was trying it on. He’d had a question, she’d told him to come in. For the life of him he can’t remember what Mountain sent him to ask her. 

Cumulus is still looking at him. Expecting an answer. An explanation. Aeon’s pretty sure if he opens his mouth the only sound that’s going to come out is an unintelligible gurgle. He tries away. 

“You–uh–look really nice.” 

“Nice?” Her head comes back to center. She arches an eyebrow. “Just nice?” 

Aeon stumbles. Caught up between being polite and telling her what he’s really thinking. “No, I mean–shit–fuck.” 

Cumulus laughs at him, melodic. Good natured. She runs her fingers down the curve of her waist and tugs on the hem of the jacket, gripping the sharp lines to adjust it. 

“It’s a little tighter than it used to be–I looked better in it before.” 

Aeon’s eyes are fixed on the buttons at her chest. Straining. It would take almost nothing to pop a few of them open. To have her spilling out into his waiting hands. Silky soft skin in his hands, fingers plucking at her sensitive nipples. 

“I think it fits perfectly,” he says, almost mindless. Captivated by the way her body moves in the uniform when she turns to look at herself in the mirror. 

“I don’t know what Copia was thinking when he approved these,” she muses. Aeon doesn’t know if she’s really lost in her own thoughts about her old uniform, or if she’s playing it up for his benefit. But he doesn’t have the brain power to care. 

As she turns he gets a clear view of her ass, the way the pants hug it. He clenches his fists at his side. 

“I do,” he mumbles. 

Cumulus meets his eyes in the mirror and the last of his self control dribbles out of his brain. He presses up against her back. Rolls his hips against the swell of her ass. Arms coming around to pet at her waist, the soft curve of her stomach. He drags his fingers up the buttons on the coat. 

Cumulus leans back against him, sighing. Watching their reflection through slitted eyes. She smiles, fangs poking out over her bottom lip. Aeon wants to eat her alive–or be eaten alive by her. He doesn’t care. He just knows he needs to touch–to feel–to worship every inch of her. 

“Took you long enough.”

“I was trying to be polite,” he replies, sheepish now. Heat still flashing over his face. 

“Don’t be.” 

Aeon’s right about the buttons. They pop open with almost no effort. The black button up below it is much the same, stretched tight over her tits. He only undoes enough buttons to get them out. To get his hands on them. He cups one in each hand, rolls her nipples through his fingers. They’re adorned with jewlery he’s never seen before. Simple black barbells attatched with a chain that drapes down to her stomach. 

Aeon’s gut gives a little twist. Cock fully hard now where he grinds it against her. 

“Pretty.” 

“Do better,” Cumulus whispers, breath warm over his jaw. 

“Gorgeous.”

Cumulus hums. Aeon watches her eyes flutter closed in the mirror. Body melting against him as he plays. Weighing velvety soft skin in his palms. 

“Let me fuck them,” he says suddenly. The words fall from his lips before he gives himself permission to say them outloud. He blushes again, stupid human vessel. He wants to look away. To hide himself in the mass of her hair but he doesn’t. He just watches as her eyes open, vibrant blue and crinckling at the corner as she grins at him. 

“I mean–uh–shit–only if you want–I– “Bug?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up and fuck my tits.” She turns in his grasp lightening fast. Pressing up against him. She stands on her toes and kisses him. Slow and syrupy. Tongue dragging decadently over his as she pulls him toward the bed with a hand fisted in his t-shirt. Aeon looses track of it all for a minute. Lost in the taste of her, the feel of her in his hands. He’s drifting long before she shoves his pants down to his thighs, cock springing free and into her waiting hand. 

It takes longer than it should to get in a position that works. They keep getting distracted. Pausing mid movement to kiss, to touch. But eventually they get there. Cumulus on her back. Aeon straddling her ribs. She’s still wearing her uniform,  just pulled apart to free her tits. Jacket and shirt still fully on. Buttoned beneath her chest, excentuating her waist, her hips her thighs. Aeon wishes he’d thought to bring his phone. He wants a picture of her like this. Spread out before him. Wrapped up in skin-tight fabric. Tits spilling out into his hands. . He taps the wet head of his dick over one of her nipples, leaving a shiny smear of pre-cum over the dusky flesh. 

Aeon grabs the chain connecting Cumulus’ piercings, he wraps the metal around his hand once. Something to hold onto. The noise she makes when he pulls up on it makes his stomach hurt. A soft gasp, gut punched. 

He presses his cock between her tits. The skin silky smooth and pliant against him. Giving way with each roll of his hips. She tips her head down and spits on the head of his cock when it  comes out the other side. Enough to make the next slide wet and decadent. 

Aeon pulls a little harder on the chain. It only serves to press her tits tighter around his cock. He tries to keep his composure, to start slow. To take his time. But it’s too good. Each wet slide drives him closer and closer to insanity. He can’t help it. Cumulus isn’t helping. Not with the way she presses her tits together. Not with the little moans she makes when each thrust rattles the chain in Aeon’s grasp, pulls tighter on her nipples. Sensitive and swelling from the pressure. “Lu–fuck–so fucking good.” “If you get any cum on this uniform you’re getting the stain out,” she threatens. The wolfish grin pulling at her lips does nothing to stop the way Aeon’s balls tighten up. 

Aeon groans, digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek as he ruts his hips against her harder. He thinks that punishment is probably worth the reward.

[walmart-miku]

Ok finished The Boy and The Heron. And I have Thoughts.

THE THEMES!!!! THE SYMBOLISM!!!! THE INEVITABLE MARCH OF TIME BUT WE STILL GO ON. THE "IMPERFECT WORLD TAINTED WITH MALICE" "WORLD FULL OF CHAOS AND FIRE" "PURE VS IMPURE" AHHHHHHHHH

ITS ABOUT GRIEF!!! ITS ABOUT HIW MAHITO LEARNS TO NAVIGATE A WORLD WITHOUT HIS MOTHER AND HIM ACCEPTING NATSUKO AS HIS MOTHER AND THE WAY ITS DONE IS SO GRACEFUL. He starts completely impartial to her. Besides the fact that Natsuko looks like his mother, Mahito is polite but cold to her. And then Natsuko gets "taken". And Mahito decides to go save her, not for himself but for his FATHER!!! (On a side note here, I love how good of a father Mahito has. He's really trying his best here, he dropped everything to look for them and was 110% ready to fight God.) And once Mahito finally gets to her its this beautiful scene of him calling out to her for her to come home with him and hee refusing and Mahito going from calling out "NATSUKO" to "MOTHER"!!!! HE CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE ANOTHER MOTHER AND HE MIGHT HAVE FAILED THE FIRST TIME BUT HE WON'T THIS TIME AND AHHHHH!!!!

My brain will not shut up about the one scene where the heron tells Mahito that he can't fix the hole that Mahito made in his beak that's preventing him from transforming. It has to be the one who did the damage that fixes it. It has to be Mahito who fixes it. Do you see where I'm going here. How, as hard as you try, damage has been done and sometimes the damage has to be repaired by the cause.

THE REAL WORLD ATTACHMENT THAT HAYAO MIYAZAKI HAS TO THIS FILM. HE IS THE GREAT GRAND UNCLE. He created this beautiful empire of movies and has left a legacy and the movie ends with the empire/world falling l, with the potential successor turning away from the world and choosing his own path. THE MOVIE IS A LOVE LETTER TO HIS SON AND HOLY SHIT IM NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS FACT.

Little guys. A ghibli movie is not a ghibli movie until it has silly little guys. For this one we got the water water. LOOK AT THEM!!!! I WOULD DIE FOR THEM. I cried when they got eaten and then I cried some more when the old pelican died talking to Mahito. Because they didn't ask for this life where they eat the water water. But they have no choice. And their young don't know how to fly anymore.

Kiriko. Holy fucking shit Kiriko. She's managed to fulfill both the grandma and cool lesbian aunt roles in The Boy and The Heron and holy shit. First time I saw her butch form I. Also the little wood carvings to protect. How they're people from Mahitos world. How Mahito has so many people that care about him. (Look at her she's so)

Himi (Mahito's mother) ISNT AFRAID OF FIRE (how she dies) BECAUSE WHY BE AFRAID OF DEATH? WHY FEAR THE UNKNOWN AND THE END? WHY FEAR THE VERY THING THAT YOU CONTROLLED?

Mahito is super duper fucking unhinged (affectionate). The hospital is on fire, he runs against the crowd to get to his mother. The kids at his new school make fun of him. Next scene has no audio but some cheerful music and is of just Mahito fucking throwing hands. And then Mahito is still angry and full of malice afterwards that he just. Takes a rock and bangs it against his head. Mahito meets the grey heron and he decides that he's gonna kill it. He makes his won bow and arrow. He uses the herons own feather for the arrow. He also reflects his name perfectly. "Mahito" meaning "sincere one". He just says whatever the fuck he's thinking. He does not pull punches.

The book. "How Do You Live?" I Will Be Thinking About This Book So Much. (She left him a book, she left him a book about how to live because she knew that she wouldn't be there to watch him learn how to live but she still wanted to teach him how to live even if it was just beyond the grave through a book)

[melrosing]

As your not a big fan of fantasy books in general. What drew you into loving asoiaf? What got you hooked?

now that I'm invested in asoiaf I do genuinely like the fantasy elements of the story, but the stuff that really pulled me in was the human drama and political intrigue etc. I love the character work, almost all of the POVs feel fully realised and subvert typical tropes in really interesting ways (imo). I like the inter-generational drama (the reasons I like succession are v similar to the reasons I like the Lannisters), like if I want to understand Jaime and Cersei and Tyrion I can look to Tywin, and if I want to understand Tywin I can look to Tytos, and if I was to understand Tytos I can look to Gerold, like it's a russian doll of intergenerational trauma what more could a girl want.

and on that note I really like the scope! GRRM obviously feels this need to account for all details minor and major, so that even with everything that's already on the page there's room to extrapolate so much more. i mean here I am writing who knows how many words about a fake 20-episode long robert's rebellion tv series lol like this all happened before the series even starts and yet I hardly need to make anything up bc there is so much to draw on just based on all the random little details we've got here and there from characters reflecting on the same events from different angles, and trying to piece together portraits of the people who died based on the recollections of those on the page who remember them..... it is so fun)

and yeah usually I prefer to read about that kind of thing on a smaller scale but the drama that plays out in AGOT is so engaging that upon initiation I didn't find it so much of a chore to keep track of all the various houses and lands etc in order to understand the full implications of each thing that happened - it felt like it was worth the effort. generally it's the 'keeping track' of it all that I find grating about fantasy bc I really want to just get on with the story rather than keep on top of a hundred magic systems and sub-species of pixie.

and obvs asoiaf is low fantasy rather than high fantasy, i.e. there aren't intricate systems to the magic and or complicated genus for each of the creatures, so that made it feel a lot more accessible for me as someone who just isn't very interested in those kinds of details. Dany's magic is made up as she goes along, it's never explained, and that's the same for pretty much all the fantastical elements - it's very show don't tell. and even though when you count it all up there are quite a lot of fantastical features and subplots, taken together with the rest of the story it's more like.... seasonings I wouldn't usually choose but ended up liking just fine in this overall dish lol

and finally asoiaf just really appealed to me from a fannish perspective! I really hate when you're trying to dig deeper with a work and you quickly start to realise that the writer(s) just weren't thinking that hard. it feels like striking concrete with a spade, like it's a one-sided conversation rather than something both the writer and the reader are participating in. I think some fans are perfectly fine with that and good for them - who cares if the author built the work to sustain your analysis if you're just having fun doing it - but for me it's a complete killjoy, I end up v frustrated and like the work isn't worth my time

so here's GRRM who is so fixated on the finer details that he's churned out a history book like 700 pages long and a bunch of short stories and also another history book just to add a bit more texture to the main story. and I don't have to worry about network input or co-writers or actors' intentions or whatever other external conflict or influence cos for better or worse it's all his story. and that just suits me better lol, it's one guy and his shitty computer, and me reading the shit he wrote with it. pure and simple living in the moment no phones in sight

also jaime and brienne are everything to me xo

[askbensolo]

please tell me hows space mom

I had prepared myself for Mom to be worried about me. Usually, she wants to make sure that I haven't been hearing voices, and that I haven't been having disturbing dreams, and that I haven't been depressed or anxious, and that I haven't been participating in any weird fringe holonet politics (listen, I only fell down the What If Palpatine Didn't Die conspiracy theory rabbithole one time, and it was for research).

Anyway. I met Mom at the docking bay, where she was waiting outside the Falcon. She was leaning against the boarding ramp, dressed in casual wear but with her hair impeccably braided, scrolling rapidly on her datapad. Dad said she was always taking her work home with her, but that was just Mom. Always going.

"So. Dad let you take the Falcon out without him, huh?" I asked, causing her to look up. She smiled when she saw me, her eyes creasing, and I noticed her hair was starting to go gray near her ears. It reminded me of the mundane horror that had only begun to haunt me as an adult: the mortality of one’s parents.

I jettisoned that thought into space unknown.

"Oh, your father knows I'd never hurt his baby girl," Mom said, matching my playful tone and giving me a hug. "I'm only a little jealous."

She winked, then became more sincere as she looked at me fondly, no doubt seeing her little boy in front of her. "It's so good to see you, Ben."

"Great to see you too, Mom. Who’s your co-pilot?” I asked, leaning to the side to peer into the ship.

“You are, now,” she said, patting me on the back. “It was Threepio before.”

As if on cue, Threepio trotted out on the boarding ramp, his gold plating reflecting the late sunlight. "Oh! Young master Ben! What a pleasure to see you, sir!"

I gave him a salute. "'Sup, Threepio!"

He cocked his head and jittered his arms, flustered. "Oh, well, er...'sup, sir."

Mom and I snickered, and she gave me a smirk that I read perfectly. Threepio was an excellent protocol droid (if a little irritating), but he wasn’t a very good co-pilot.

We got situated in the cockpit. I ran my fingers over the dash…batted my hand at the golden dice that dangled from the ceiling. Took in the familiar musky scent of Wookiee hair and reformed smuggler. We started the Falcon up, and the hum of the engine was like a missing piece of my soul. The ship was a repair crew's nightmare, with so many janky modifications as to render the owner’s manual useless, and her hyperdrive failed half the time. But she was a part of us. A part of our family. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep at night, I closed my eyes and imagined I was in a bunk on the Falcon.

“So…how are you doing, Ben?” Mom asked, once we had left Naboo behind and open space spread out before us.

"Fine. No voices, no dreams, no neuroses, no conspiracy theories or extremist politics," I rattled off dryly, doing a Reassure Mom speedrun.

Oh Ben, I didn't mean that, I imagined her saying. I meant: how is work going? Tell me about your friends! How much can you bench now? Are you still writing poems? Have you done anything fun recently?

"Good," Mom said in reality, satisfied and clearly relieved. Something burned inside of me, biting, snarling. I turned my face away.

Chill out, I told myself. She'll probably ask more later.

And she did. In fact, the next thing out of her mouth was a question about a project at work I had mentioned to Dad a couple weeks ago, when I'd asked him to visit.

See? I told myself. The little monster inside of me grumbled and curled up to sulk.

"Maybe I could come visit you for dinner sometime," Mom said, something weird in her voice, a kind of embarrassed hopefulness. "I'm so glad you and Dad hang out. You two seem to have a good time together."

And I wish that you wanted to spend time with me, too, was the part she didn't have to say out loud for me to understand.

"Yeah...maybe," I said, embarrassed as well. "Oh...I have a different roommate, though, if you do come over. Do you remember Fannie? She was one of Luke's students..."

"Oh! Yes, I remember," Mom said. "Sweet girl. When did she move in?"

"Like...a month ago or something."

Silence. I looked at her.

"...Mom? What’s up?”

"Oh, I'm just...a bit surprised you didn't tell me sooner," she said, sounding kind of weird again. My little monster bristled defensively.

"Well...you never ask about me," I said, also starting to feel kind of weird.

"What?" she protested, the whole ship jerking slightly as she snapped to look at me, her steering hand unstable for a moment. "Ben, how can you say that? I ask about you all the time. You never respond to my messages. You've ignored my calls. You have given me every indication that you want to be left alone. I practically gave up on trying to reach out to you."

She was absolutely correct, and I didn't know how to argue with that, or how to explain what I meant. That despite all of it, I still felt like she never really asked about me.

She stared at me for several seconds, expecting me to say something. When I merely disappointed her, she faced forward again with a huff.

I wondered if maybe it would have been easier to just have dinner with Fannie instead.

"...Sorry," I mumbled, feeling five years old.

“What are you sorry for?” Mom asked, correctly not buying it.

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling four-and-a-half.

“Well...all right, then.”

Silence stretched out, like the big blackness of space, and I started feeling…I don’t know. Scared. Lonely. Angry. All those ugly teenage feelings I had declared to be cringe.

Or maybe they weren't teenage feelings. Maybe they were just person feelings, and they never went away.

...Well, one thing that was different from being a teenager is that I knew how to handle those feelings better. Most of the time, anyway.

I took a slow, deep breath to calm myself down, and let it out in a sigh, not taking my eyes off the stars. "...Look, Mom, I...I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have said you never ask about me. And I'm sorry I've been so terrible at keeping in touch. It's just...still kind of difficult for me that you're so—" Paranoid? Wait, no. Delete. "—concerned about my safety. I know it's 'cause you love me, but...really, I'm fine."

Mom was quiet for a moment. I looked at her. Her brows were furrowed.

"Ben...of course I trust you," she said finally. "You've grown up to become such an intelligent young man. But...you have to understand that what happened to you with Snoke wasn't...normal. This family isn't normal. Part of it is the life I chose, that your father chose when he joined the Rebellion and when he married me...and part of it, we did not choose, and I often don't understand. I have seen too many things happen to too many people I've loved, and I will never, ever let anything happen to you. Never again." Her voice was strained, as if breaking under the weight of a hundred past experiences I couldn't imagine. She turned to look me in the eyes. "Do you understand?"

Yeah, I understand there's no getting through to you, said the sassy teen Ben who lounged on the couch inside my brain. I kicked him in the shins.

"I understand, Mom," said adult Ben, who was civil, if not always fully sincere. "You've been through so much. Thanks for always looking out for me."

"I'm sorry it's been difficult for you, Ben," she said. "I always wanted you to be able to have a normal life, as much as you could. But...I wish I had realized sooner—much sooner—that in some ways, that was never possible for you. If only I had known that...if only I had been more on guard..."

Then maybe Snoke would never have gotten his hands on you, was the part she didn't have to say out loud for me to understand.

"...Hey. Mom." I reached over to pat her hand, offering a hopeful smile. "It's okay. I'm okay. See? I'm here. I lived."

I meant it as a joke, but I forgot there was a part where I almost didn't.

"What I mean is, it wasn't your fault," I said quickly. "There's no way you could have prepared yourself for something like that. There's no way any of us could have."

Mom shook her head. "I suppose not. But...don't you understand? That's why I have to make sure I'm as prepared as possible—to the extent that I can be, at least—for anything that could happen to our family in the future. To you, to Rey, to Dad...even to Uncle Luke."

"Yes, Mom. I understand," I said quietly.

And I did. I didn't like it or agree with it, but I understood.

The Falcon whirred and hummed like a happy tooka.

Mom cleared her throat. "...So. Fannie. You're...roommates now?"

I rolled my eyes. But of course, how could the conversation not go this direction? It was part of why I hadn't told her for so long in the first place.

"Housemates," I corrected. "She's staying in the living room. Just for the summer. I have someone else moving in next fall—his name is Poe Dameron—"

"Oh my goodness! No way. Kes and Shara's son?"

"Uh. I don't know. Who?"

"Oh, just some friends from the old days. What a small galaxy. But—speaking of friends. Fannie...she's still just a friend, right?"

Normally I would have emitted a groan like a dying tauntaun and shouted "uh, yessssss" with the "yes" part having at least five syllables. But this time...I found myself horrifyingly speechless.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. The most disgusting awkward little chuckle came out of me, in lieu of actual words.

That was a terrible omen. I died inside.

"It's okay, sweetie, you don't have to answer," Mom said cheerfully, but it looked like she was probably formulating an answer of her own.

[bonesandthebees]

[“I’m fully capable of handling myself, so stop underestimating me, Wilbur,” Niki snapped. “I’ve been managing perfectly fine on my own for the past three years, haven’t I?”]

Ignore my dying screams in the back. I am totally fine. I did not gasp aloud 5 times during this conversation. No, ma’am.

Anyway, Niki’s hostility clearly comes from openly seeing Wilbur choosing Tommy after the assassination. And then catching him coming from Quackity’s room after. Something he would have done with her to theorise together just a few years ago. And she has no idea what they were talking about, not yet anyway.

She’s warning him as much as he’s warning her really. It’s a dig as much as she’s watching out for him, telling him he will get himself hurt this way.

Both of them sorta flip back and forth between what they used to have as a gut reaction, and open hostility. Niki has every right to be angry.

[“Save your wisdom for the teenager who’s too much of a coward to defend his own guard from accusations of treason. After all, that’s who you chose.”]

Niki is a very loyal person, but break it once and it’s gone. Wilbur is not to be trusted. And his lack of loyalty is very clearly reflected in his choice of Tommy. At least it is to Niki. He’s equally unloyal to Jack, as Wilbur was to her. (Which means she’s indirectly calling Wilbur a coward? For also not speaking up for Jack then?)

And this is how Jack will end up joining Niki. I was wondering how you were going to pull that one off. But this makes sense. She lost Wilbur through events out of her control and now Tommy loses Jack the same way. That entire conversation was just: ‘Jack will remember this.’

My guess is Wilbur goes off with Quackity only to come back and find that both Puffy and Jack have switched sides. (Not too sure about Puffy actually, she does clearly care for those kids still. And she’s not Wilbur.) That or you make use of the execution tag and it’s bye bye Jack. Which would be a good way to get rid of him and make Niki look sus if Phil manages to frame him.

[“I didn’t choose him, Niki.”] This fool is still in denial. I was going to say that he did not consciously chose Tommy’s but he kinda did. It was a matter of heart over rational thinking (another core problem, or actually THREE core problem that makes choosing sides between people he loves so difficult). It’s an issue Phil does not have. My point is that Wilbur did not mean to chose Tommy, did not mean to lose Niki, and now struggles to accept that he did. But she knows.

(2/3)

-🌲

niki is pissed about wilbur still trying to pull this shit. it's been 3 years of being cold and distant and suddenly wilbur is getting up in her business the minute she starts trying to gain an ally in someone new. of course she's rightfully annoyed. he abandoned her and the second she starts trying to make political moves with someone he doesn't like, he tells her off for it when he outright gave up on niki and her claim years prior.

and yeah, niki values loyalty very highly whereas wilbur does not. wilbur has been taught by phil to be an opportunist and to look for power. niki does not think like that so of course they clash, both within the effects it had on their own friendship but also when she realizes how wilbur's disloyal streak influences tommy.

also not saying much but. yes. jack will remember this :)

the funny thing is, wilbur did consciously choose tommy over niki. if you go back to the pre timeskip chapter he literally has an entire conversation with phil about choosing tommy over her. wilbur is saying that to niki as an outright lie. he knows he chose tommy but he still wants to deny it, still wants her to think of him as a friend. not because he'll gain anything from it but because a part of him still does care for her and he can't stand the idea of her not trusting him anymore. like you pointed out, this is an issue phil does not have. phil understands that power demands sacrifice. wilbur is still learning that lesson.

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

hello my darling lin 💞 i'm afraid i can't keep it to myself any longer, i must know all about your character tags, they're simply too intriguing 👀.

Ahhh, my loveliest Lizzie! Thank you so much for sending this ask my way, it was such a lovely and generous surprise to find in my inbox today! 🥹❤️ I have a lot of different tags for five separate works so, please, bear with me as I briefly try to elaborate on all of them skdskfjsksfjsk. I apologise beforehand for my seemingly endless rambles, though I hope it will turn out to be interesting nonetheless! 🥰✨️

VOIEVOD:

The majority of my tags come from my medieval magnum opus sksksk because numerous distinct characters are already detailed and elaborate in my mind — let’s dig into them! I do have to confess that some of these tags have yet to make a proper appearance, but I have prepared them in advance, just in case.

( oc: if i cannot move heaven i will raise hell ) — Vlad Dracula. This phrase is a well-known quote from Virgil’s Aeneid: “Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.” I have always felt that it perfectly encapsulates Vlad’s entire life — he is quite the prototype of a Machiavellian ruler willing to resort to more violent methods if needed (which we know very well from history, after all). Throughout the works, he repeatedly acknowledges his belief that he is destined for hell and expresses his willingness to sacrifice his soul for the greater good of his people. And he is also a very strong-willed and stubborn person who will always find a way to achieve his goals, whatever it costs him.

( oc: sanctuary ) — Cătălina. At first, I greatly hesitated to use this symbolism as I truly believe this remarkable woman is defined by much more than her role as the royal mistress and the mother of the voivode’s sons, and I try to depict that individuality of her character. However, this role does significantly influence her life and defines many of the decisions she makes. Throughout their relationship, Vlad sees Cătălina as his sanctuary because she accepts him as he is, loves him despite his perceived defects, and offers him a sense of belonging and peace. Sure, he loves that she keeps him on his toes, but this acceptance and the notion of having a kindred spirit give him the feeling of healing and safety. He can take off the many masks and let himself be exposed as he is, deep down. She also serves as a sanctuary for their sons, acting as the family’s anchor since they spend most of their time with her.

( oc: golden child; lion boy ) — Mehmed the Conqueror. His tag comes from the beautiful poem written by madzieloss on Tumblr, with the whole quote going, “Golden child, Lion boy; Tell me what it’s like to conquer.” I initially tried to use one of Mehmed’s poems from his diwan to make it a bit more personal, but this particular poem works perfectly because it encapsulates Mehmed’s whole essence — the Sultan of the Empire, the gifted child, the great conqueror. I also love using the recurring theme of gold and sun for his character. Gold represents the splendour of the Ottoman Empire, as well as his personal visuals (a lot of rich clothes and jewellery, the gilded Ottoman armour, his ginger hair and beard). Sun is the lovely little dichotomy seen in his character as it is both radiant and invigorating (his manners, generosity, education, intellect, aspects of rule), and merciless and blazing (his cruelty and the destructive sides of his politics towards other countries). Like the sun, he can either help grow or burn everything down.

( oc: the dragon ) — Vlad Dracul. I hate admitting that I could not come up with anything even remotely unique for Vlad’s dad as his moniker Dracul literally means “the Dragon” skdhskfskdks. However, the nickname was used for a reason, and we do not fix what isn’t broken in this house. The dragon’s role in medieval symbolism reflects a complex interplay between themes of heroism, morality, and the battle between light and darkness — on the one hand, the creature is seen as a protector and symbol of power, strength, and courage, but on the other hand, a dragon also represents a cunning and dangerous figure. He is called “the Dragon” both by people who admire him and despise him, so it shows the double meaning and the complexity of a ruler’s nature. At the same time, the meaning also spills over to his private life as he is both a figure of protection and (unwilling and unintentional) destruction to his family.

( oc: of burning martyrdom ) — Mircea Dracula. The eldest sibling is without a doubt the most tragic figure in the entire story, and I wanted his tag to reflect the tragedy and inevitability of his fate. He was killed at nineteen at the hands of his father’s enemies and in the cruellest way imaginable, and the “burning” part hints at some of the circumstances of his death. In his own way, he dies as a martyr because he dies refusing to give up his beliefs — and he is a martyr figure because the majority of his short life is marked with great struggles.

( oc: keeper of secrets ) — Alexandra. This tag is supposed to represent all the inner turmoil and complexities fighting one another inside Vlad’s younger sister. Because the two siblings share most of their personality and physical traits and are also close in age (there is a three-year gap between them), Vlad has always had a fond spot for his little sister and always considered her his little confidante — hence the meaning of keeping secrets. In return, Vlad has always been the brother who has granted Alexandra the most freedom and experience. She also keeps many secrets because there is a lot of her she has to repeatedly suppress inside of her — as I have mentioned, Vlad and Alexandra are quite alike, but Vlad’s personality tends to be accepted more while the same traits in Alexandra are often frowned upon.

( oc: cel frumos ) — Radu Dracula. My laziness shows here once again as that is Radu’s moniker, meaning “the handsome” or “the beautiful”. Radu has been given a fair share of horrible portrayals in media over the years, so I aim to further develop his character and show the varied aspects of his personality that are frequently overlooked. I initially tried to find something that would suit his complicated character but eventually settled on the nickname itself as it nicely shows the irony of his life and the most defining issue of his life — always being disregarded and reduced to only a sliver of his being.

( oc: cel mare ) — Ștefan the Great. (Or, as I like to call him, Fane.) There is no possible tag that would fit the famous Voivode of Moldavia and Vlad’s cousin (Vlad’s mother was a Moldavian princess) more than his own nickname, “the Great”. He is considered a national hero in both Romania and Moldova and undoubtedly earned his monicker through his actions.

OPEN HEART:

( c: i rise with my red hair and i eat men like air ) — Laura Levchenko. Her tag comes from Sylvia Plath’s poem called Lady Lazarus and, although I wanted to find a fitting quote from Lesya Ukrainka to represent Laura’s roots (that form a great part of her being), this one has the right amount of sharpness and edge fitting for my darling spitfire. Her fiery hair is undoubtedly one of her trademarks, and the quote also represents an independent spirit that will not be pushed down by being seemingly “inferior”. It also shows her own stance towards men, beginning with the painful experience with her dad and marking her whole life, as well as people who look down upon her.

( c: veni vidi vici ) — E.R. This is incredibly embarrassing because I was desperate to find something better for Ethan, something more fitting for his character… but there it is skdksfksldls. I do not think this quote even needs any introduction, so I will mention instead that “I came, I saw, I conquered” expresses the way Ethan achieves everything he sets his mind to, as well as the ferocity with which he pursues all his goals. When we compare his character to Laura’s, it might also imply the briskness with which he achieves certain things in life as a straight white American man — as opposed to Laura who is not only looked down upon for being a woman but also has to face a lot of xenophobia in her life. (You also want to re-enact the Ides of March on him sometimes but… I digress sksksk.)

CRIMES OF PASSION:

( c: this ghost sitting year after year upon my heart ) — Milena Rosa. This quote comes from Federico García Lorca’s play Yerma, in Spanish being, “este fantasma sentado año tras año encima de mi corazón”. I have to admit that I have yet to get myself familiar with Milena and craft her character in detail the way she deserves, but we know from canon that Jimmy’s tragic death greatly defines not only her own inner life (because she battles with all the demons his loss has inflicted upon her) but also the trajectory of her future career and the purpose she finds in her mission.

( c: bleeding sun ) — T.T. Trystan’s tag is from Lucie Thésée’s Poem, and the full quote goes, “Handsome as life and poison. Sun-blood handsome. Bleeding sun.” This was an instant fit because Trystan is undoubtedly the product of the environment he grew up in — Drakovia is both a place of beauty and vibrance, but we know its regime is bloody and deadly. Trystan will also never suppress the essence of who he is, and his character is both full of life and somewhat fierce (sometimes even violent) in nature. A lot of my worldbuilding for the story comes from my own experience as an Eastern European, and this little corner of the world is brimming with endless contradictions, so I tried to come up with something that would evoke that as closely as possible.

THE WAYHAVEN CHRONICLES:

( c: i am the sea and nobody owns me ) — Kimberley Cunningham. Kimble is my TWC newborn that I have only recently crafted into a character she should have been from the very beginning. Her tag is actually the legendary quote uttered by Pippi Longstocking which, apart from its fierceness, also fits Kimberley’s playfulness and carefree approach to life. She is a rebel through and through in every aspect of her life, which stems from the disastrous nature of her relationship with Rebecca. Her main objective in life is to do the exact opposite of what she is told, and she enjoys shocking people around her. But, just like the sea, she can be tempestuous and unpredictable, and some of her decisions can be quite destructive. Kimble ends up in the love triangle which kind of mirrors the rest of her life — initially harmless fun turns complicated and messy.

( c: a ribbon of loneliness ) — Sydney Brannagan. My poor baby Syd has been characterised through his melancholy since the very first moment, so I needed to find this little nugget that would instantly evoke his inner world. Then I found this quote by Jenny Slate that goes, “I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am.” Loneliness runs through Sydney not only in the sense that he is such a sorrowful soul, but also because a part of him always feels so detached from others. All his life, he has felt like he has to prove his worth to his mother to feel accepted, and he also unconsciously builds a wall around him as the time goes by. In the professional setting, his personality does not stand out in any particular way — he is diligent and polite, some might even consider him a bit bland.

BLEEDING HEART:

I do feel like I need to give a bit more context for this interactive fiction beforehand, especially because there is only Chapter 1 out so far. The story is a retelling of Bram Stoker’s Dracula through the point of view of Mina Murray, and the first chapter already explores several wonderful themes I cannot wait to get my grubby little hands on! I have a very clear idea of who I want Mina to be, how she struggles in the setting and society she lives in, and how her personality drives her emotions and decisions. I do not know if my personal HCs will align with the story as it progresses, but there is nothing this user cannot tweak to her liking skdhskfjfksks.

( c: growing fruit around cyanide ) — Wilhelmina Murray-Harker. Mina’s tag is a part of a poem from a collection called Swallowtail by Brenna Twohy and goes, “Peach pits are poisonous. This is not a mistake. Girlhood is growing fruit around cyanide. It will never be your for swallowing.” Essentially, it encapsulates the conflict between who Mina seems to be on the outside and who she truly is on the inside. I have always felt like the Victorian times were one of the most suffocating periods for a woman to live in, and Mina always has to suppress a huge part of herself to somehow “fit the mould”, hence how she grows fruit around cyanide. Just like the society, her relationship with Jonathan also suffocates her — her engagement is a choice made out of reason, but she does not feel fulfilled with him in practically any way, which ultimately drives her into the arms of Dracula.

( c: the master of the night ) — Count Dracula. His tag is just the tweak of the quote from Bram Stoker’s Dracula: “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” Since he commands all the creatures and phenomena of the night, I have changed the bit to the “master”. I wish I had anything interesting to add to his character but, so far, I am waiting to see what he turns out to be like in Bleeding Heart — I know we are able to make him be the big villain or give him redeeming qualities, so I will wait and see which route will seem more fitting to me though I do play around with the idea of making Dracula more redeemable and a different character more villainous). Also, Count Dracula the Vampire has absolutely nothing to do with Vlad Dracula the Voivode in my fictional world — I know merging the two into one character is very popular, there is even one novel that did this that I absolutely love, but… not happening here lmao.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Its so sad about selling it as a shounen when its seinen. Ive literally watched reveiws from people who called it a shounen (just reviewing the anime) or had a gard time catgorizing thinking shounen meant action/adventure when its an age group. As someone whos getting older its disheartening to see seinens cast to the side

Yeah... Like tbh I can see where the confusion comes from, with the superpowers and repeated fight scenes being elements that are recurring in shonen manga, but that's stopping to a very superficial reading of the media. I do agree part of the appeal of bsd is how it tackles adult themes that a shonen manga can't reach, how it doesn't shy back from diving into disturbing concepts and depictions– it is meant for an older audience, and treating it as a shonen risks to end up making it lose a lot of its charm, because there's some things that you just can't sugarcoat.

I feel like Bones' adaptation of the Fukuchi vs. sskk fight is a good example of what happens when you shonen-ify a seinen scene: in the anime the scene failed to transpose the characters' internal insight and moral conflict, as well as renounced to all the interesting themes questioning war cruelty (themes probably deemed unfit to a teen audience due to graphic descriptions and reflections on political subjects). The anime adapted all the action in the scene, but it was left at that, on a very superficial level, pretty much erasing everything that made the scene thematically relevant and emotionally moving.

But then again, in the end works (and especially well written, original works) can be so that they hardly fit in a single category, and that's okay. Death Note is technically a shonen that serialized in the Weekly Shonen Jump, but imo it feels a lot more of a seinen. The Promised Neverland is a shonen, but it's also the manga with the oldest demographic of any other series serialized on the WSJ, with a wide slice of sales coming from an adult audience, and a whole published analysis book written by a researcher from the Hiroshima Women’s University. Bsd is a seinen that targets at an adult, male (?) audience, but that doesn't exclude it sharing traits with shonen manga.

I do understand and to an extent sincerely share some sort of reclaim of bsd as an adult media. It's comforting to say: “I'm an adult, and I'm interested in bsd, which is an adult book”. The thing is, genres are ultimately conventions, and pretty volatile at that, and in the end in my opinion it shouldn't really matter if the story is a seinen or a shonen, as long as it is a good story. And still it does matter, because we're all so used to see our interests be mocked and made fun of, that we feel the need to say “it's an adult story, so it's good; it's not something to be made fun of, and my interest for it is legit and justified” when it really... Doesn't have to be like that. It's natural for adult stories to attract an adult audience (for relatableness of themes, for an easier time in understanding complex subjects and even a curiosity and interest in complex themes and questions), but I think that shouldn't come with diminishing media targeted to a younger audience, with saying it can't hold depth and thematically relevant motifs or that adults are automatically childish to take interest in them. I share a sentiment of frustration that calls for reclaiming bsd as an “adult media”, but I also think that at least personally, it comes from a place of stigmatization of everything that isn't adult like it was automatically bad when really there wouldn't be anything wrong with bsd being a manga for young men either.

(I ended up following a string of thought here, so I apologize if it resulted in projecting / making assumptions on what you meant with this ask. It's perfectly legit and understandable for you to be annoyed by the misinformation around what shonen and seinen mean with no other implication, and the rest is only personal opinions added)

[dantomasik]

Enishi vs Kenshin's Foes

The Final Arc of Rurouni Kenshin introduced us to a villain who seemingly did the impossible, defeating Kenshin. Yukishiro Enishi bested the greatest swordsman in the world, and he did so handily. His swordsmanship style seemed capable of perfectly countering Kenshin's every move, including his Ultimate Technique. Here's the thing. This does not make Enishi the greatest swordsman in the world. Enishi is so hyperfixated on revenge against Kenshin that it consumes his every waking thought, reflected in his sword style, Watojutsu, a self-taught Chinese style that is exclusively offensive/aggressive, with, as Enishi himself states, no defense because Kenshin took away the only thing he ever wished to defend.

This is the difference between his style and Kenshin's. Kenshin's Hiten Mitsurugi is built around pitting one against many, thus it specializes in groups. Enishi's Watojutsu is solely focused on obliterating one opponent, with that opponent specifically being Kenshin and Hiten Mitsurugi. This means it is considerably less effective against other styles and other opponents. So, I thought it would be fun to do a little mental exercise and pit Enishi against the various foes Kenshin has faced or who could pose a potentially deadly threat to him.

First off, let's do a quick summary of Enishi as a swordsman.

It's safe to call him a "master swordsman", meaning anyone less than another master swordsman doesn't have a chance against him. Thus, even his worst skills still have some merit. His offense is insane. Considering it's what he puts everything into, it's safe to call it his highest stat. His defense, meanwhile, would be his lowest stat. He frequently covers up for this by relying on his offense to counter and overpower any move that comes his way, but this doesn't work against being countered himself. His speed is also top tier, although (with one notable exception) most master swordsmen have relatively similar top speeds. He has a remarkable catalog of techniques for every possible move that could be used against him, and supplements many of them with kicks that add in that extra OOMPH. He also has what we can basically consider "mind over body", meaning his body won't register pain or injuries unless he wants it to. This grants him superb endurance, but against opponents who strike to kill, that only helps so much. Lastly, he has an ace in the hole in the form of his Frenzied Nerves that can render him nigh-unstoppable. How much he can utilize them is unclear, as they seem specifically linked towards his hatred of Kenshin.

Udo Jine

The earliest foe we could consider truly deadly, Jine fought for the Shinsengumi during Bakumatsu, killing many people, including quite a few people he wasn't supposed to kill, prompting his commanding officer to discipline him. Well, attempt to discipline him, Jine killed them too, then disappeared, resurfacing on the side of the Revolutionists. After the end of Bakumatsu, Jine would continue his massive killing spree into Meiji, sending letters declaring his intentions to prominent political figures. These targets would use their positions to hire guards & security, which Jine would happily slaughter. His fight with Kenshin is all about bringing out the manslayer he once was during Bakumatsu, the manslayer even Jine feared. With 10 years of killing under his belt, Jine's skills have remained as sharp as they were during Bakumatsu when legends were made on the edge of a sword.

Jine's style seems focused on killing a lot of people, mostly small-time thugs and police officers. This does not mean he cannot keep up with or even surpass Kenshin's level of skill. Jine spent most of their duels trying to make Kenshin fight harder, more like the killer he once was. He bragged he could kill Kenshin as he currently was in a matter of 1-3 cigarettes time. His Ultimate Technique allowed him to paralyze opponents or, alternatively, psych himself up into a nigh-invincible warrior. He is also a crazed psychopath who can shrug off most wounds, fears nothing, and experiences pure ecstasy while killing people. Without doubt a master killing machine.

Result: Maybe

This one is close enough that I feel like it could go either way. Enishi definitely has the willpower to shrug off Jine's Paralysis (hell, Sano did). In terms of fighting him, Enishi excels in countering attacks with stronger attacks. Jine's style is also purely offensive, but has the flexibility that Enishi lacks. We watch him turn a disruption instantly into a surprise attack on Kenshin, which would be utterly devastating against Watojutsu. As far as his Shin no Ippo power-up, I'd be curious to see it go up against Enishi's Frenzied Nerves, but have a feeling Enishi would win. Even powered-up, Jine lost to Kenshin's pre-Ultimate Technique battojutsu, meaning Enishi, who dodged the actual Ultimate Technique without his Frenzied Nerves, would absolutely be faster. Stronger, that's a different story, and we don't really know how much stronger Jine's power-up makes him, as he is defeated before it can land a blow. We did watch him casually turn a rock into rubble, though, so that's pretty scary.

Jine's ability to counter disruptive moves is ideal for taking advantage of Enishi's weakness, and since neither one cares who the other is, both will just try to kill each other until one dies. Both are durable as a result of having f***ed up brains that don't care about pain, both are quick, and both have powerful offense.

Shinomori Aoshi

Next up we have the leader of the Oniwabanshu, Shinomori Aoshi. This is a very different matchup from Jine. Aoshi has been fighting since he was a child, taking down other spies at 13 and leading the Oniwabanshu by age 15. He definitely qualifies as "gifted". Aoshi has proven himself one of Kenshin's strongest rivals, and has come unnervingly close to killing Kenshin multiple times.

Aoshi's skills are as deadly as they get. His single kodachi grants him an almost impenetrable defense, allowing him to then rain down martial arts blows on opponents. Coupled with fluid movements that are impossible to track, his opponents are left waiting for him to strike. As for his offense, he utilizes surprisingly few offensive sword techniques, but when he goes in for the kill, you die. Adding in his second kodachi only makes him deadlier. One factor that cannot be overlooked, Aoshi may not have superhuman durability, but that is because he is so rarely hit he doesn't need it.

Result: Loss

Enishi will lose to Aoshi. Enishi's insane offense can bash away at Aoshi's insane defense all day and never get a blow in. Enishi's greatest skill is in countering techniques with stronger techniques, but this works best against opponents with a wide catalog of offensive moves, rather than a single one designed for guaranteed fatality. His kicks can add a lot of damage, but Aoshi can dodge effortlessly. Plus, against an actual martial arts master like Aoshi, he'll get schooled like a kid in sparring class. Furthermore, when Aoshi moves in for the kill with either of his offensive techniques, Enishi's Ultimate Technique may get lucky against Kaiten Kenbu, but not against Kaiten Kenbu Rokuren. Enishi will be chopped into mincemeat. His Frenzied Nerves may help, but Aoshi's style is built around defense & evasion, using only a single deadly offensive technique (with variants depending on the number of swords used) that can turn a group of men into a pile of limbs in less than a second.

Saito Hajime

Former Captain of the 3rd Shinsengumi Unit, Saito Hajime is another strong contender for the title of Kenshin's greatest rival. They've been enemies since Bakumatsu, and their first fight in Meiji is truly terrifying to watch. They simply do not make swordsmen like Saito Hajime anymore. According to him, the skills that have allowed him to survive countless wars & conflicts are no longer even known in the present day. He has lived through more bloodshed than even other master swordsmen will see in their entire lives, and has superb endurance that comes not from any special technique, but from his sheer, unrelenting desire to bring Swift Death to Evil.

As for his technique, the way of the Shinsengumi was to hone a single attack to the realm of perfection, the methodology being that it is exceedingly rare to face the same opponent multiple times in life or death battles. If you have one move guaranteed to kill your opponent, why would you need any others? Saito's Gatotsu is the most powerful thrusting attack a swordsman can face. Can't be blocked or countered, it turns into a slash & kick if dodged, and it has monstrous destructive power. The only thing scarier than facing it, is facing it again after it's carved into you.

Result: Loss

Enishi simply has no chance against the Gatotsu. Powerful as his techniques are, none of them has destructive power comparable to it. And if Enishi cannot counter a move with something stronger, he dies. This is a short analysis because that's really all there is to fighting Saito. You either have a defense that can weaken the Gatotsu, or you lose. There is no counter against it, and Enishi would never come up with the defensive strategies that have allowed Saito's opponents to survive as long as they did.

I like to think this is why Enishi surrendered to Saito in the live action movie after kicking the sh*t out of all the police officers on the train. Once Saito takes his sword stance, Enishi either surrenders or he dies.

Usui, the Blind Sword

Kenshin never fought Usui, but Saito did, and that's good enough for me. Usui fought during Bakumatsu as an anti-Hitokiri, basically killing the killers. He had his eyes carved out by Shishio Makoto, but developed hyper-sensitive hearing and eventually became one of the deadliest members of Shishio's Ten Swords, with the understanding that he can attempt to kill people (and Shishio) as much as he desires.

Usui has two fighting styles, one utilizing his spear/mace and another combining a shortened spear and turtle shield. His defense & senses are powerful enough to disrupt the Gatotsu, allowing him to weaken his foes until he goes in for a killing stab. What his style lacks in power, it makes up in defense and calculated bloodletting.

Result: Win

Maybe it's just how quickly Usui melted under Saito's cruel words, but I'm fairly confident Enishi could destroy him. With his offense, especially punctuated by his kicks, he could most likely break down Usui's defense, which worked best against a single big technique like Saito's, not a variety like Enishi's arsenal. Add in that Usui's offense is mostly for weakening foes (a strategy that won't work on Enishi's mind over body), and he is simply a poor matchup for our angry white-haired friend.

Seta Sojiro

Remember when I mentioned there was one notable exception to master swordsmen having relatively similar top speeds? That exception would be Sojiro. With his style of "speed that does not appear in sight" he is without question the fastest swordsman in the entire series (even faster than Kenshin). His permanent smiling face offers no emotions to read, making his movements almost impossible to anticipate, and his skill with the sword can be considered equal to Kenshin's, which is terrifying. This teenage boy is a killing machine. His Ultimate Technique is called "You Die Instantly" (I'm paraphrasing, but only barely) and lives up to that threat.

Result: Loss

When you can't even follow your opponent's movements, that's when you die. Enishi might do well enough as Sojiro warms up, but once he reaches top speed Enishi will drop like a pile of limbs. Frenzied Nerves or not. You cannot counter what you cannot see, and if you can't defend yourself you just get cut to ribbons. That's all there is.

Fuji

The 30ft+ tall kaiju-esque swordsman Fuji fought Kenshin's master and lived. Fuji can destroy buildings with a single swing, and his destructive power & speed only increases once he takes off his armor. You basically need to be a God or a Battleship to fight Fuji.

Result: Win

Here's the thing, Enishi is fast enough to dodge Fuji. Even if Enishi had a defense it wouldn't work against Fuji's power, but with enough time and successful hits Enishi could wear the titan down. Will definitely take some damage from the sheer collateral of Fuji's swings, but that's what mind over body is for. Fuji might be the only master swordsman with a worse defense than Enishi, mostly because he so rarely fights anyone who doesn't sh*t their pants immediately upon seeing him.

Shishio Makoto

The assassin who succeeded Kenshin during Bakumatsu, Shishio Makoto didn't do it for morals, he did it to showcase his strength. After the revolution, he was knocked out by a blow to the head from his allies, then doused in gasoline and set on fire to make sure he stayed down. And then he didn't. That should give you a pretty good idea of how durable and driven Shishio Makoto is. His fight with Kenshin later includes both Saito & Aoshi (and Sano, briefly), and he is quite decisively kicking all of their asses on his own. Even after taking what was effectively a grenade to the face, even after going well passed the limit his body can tolerate, even after receiving Kenshin's Ultimate Ultimate Attack, Shishio kept getting up to continue fighting. He only stopped after his flesh literally ignited via spontaneous human combustion, reducing him to ashes.

Shishio is one of the most powerful swordsmen ever to live. His sword catches fire, his gauntlets explode, he can catch a sword with his fingertips if it's a technique he's seen before, he can out-react a point-blank Gatotsu, block Kenshin's Ultimate Technique, knock out Sano in a single punch, and take more punishment than anyone with 3rd degree burns all over their body should be capable of sustaining for an extended period of time. His sheer strength is only outclassed by Fuji, and that's only because Fuji is over 30 goddamn feet tall.

Result: Loss

Enishi is about to get a very rude awakening as to what a true devil is like. Enishi, for all of his strength & offensive prowess, still cannot hold a candle to Shishio. Even if his mind over body helps mitigate the nasty combination of burning & slashing wounds Shishio's sword inflicts, he will never overpower Shishio and never counter him. Furthermore, as Shishio proves capable of catching Kenshin's sword mid-attack when he attempts to use a technique Shishio has already seen, so too can any of Enishi's moves be countered. Enishi has no defense against gauntlet grenades, and even his Ultimate Technique won't work against Shishio's because crouching low to the ground won't prevent him getting incinerated by the downward slash. Even if Enishi could get in some blows against Shishio, his obscene amount of endurance will render it moot.

[fountainpenguin]

Do you happen to have any old sketches/drawings of Cosmo’s father? Would love to see them if u did. He’s 💕🥰

No, I've never drawn that character before.

I did look to see if I had any writing snippets of him, and I found this Anti-family story in some old drafts from March 5, 2020... Must have lost it in the shuffle of the crazy world. It's not what you asked for, but enjoy?

Her son had been dead two months and five days before he became alive. She’d told Anti-Robin she’d given up hope two weeks before, and his response had been a confused, “You were still hoping?” that prompted her to throw her staff after his fleeing heels. The red balcony curtains whispered behind him, but Anti-Florensa didn’t follow. She slumped against the railing on folded arms and stared at the black mountains stretching high behind the castle. Lake Sinjär slithered somewhere on the other side. One of the larger lakes in Anti-Fairy World. She’d swum across it only once. Anti-Joanie held little sympathy. Anti-Florensa had asked her sister for advice, but each time she brought up her partner, Anti-Joanie only scoffed. “You’re married to the High Count, head of all Anti-Fairy World,” she said. “He’d make a public example of anyone he caught laying a finger on you. Can you blame Anti-Robin for chasing another pretty face?” “No,” she’d answered quietly, because when Anti-Joanie phrased it like that, it made sense.

Also, bonus out of context scene from a one-shot I started in 2019 but never figured out, because Cosmo following a writing career like his late dad is something I never talk about as much as I should:

Cosmo had taken the chair against the decorative half-wall dividing the restaurant, leaving Juandissimo as the unlucky visitor whose lap would be reflected by darkened windows. Cosmo sat with his back perfectly straight, turning his wand between his fingers. “Candle?” Juandissimo asked weakly. Cosmo sheathed his wand and looked up, smiling that disarmingly cheery smile that could slice a man in two. Juandissimo blinked away on instinct. “Yeah! It’s a mood candle. I thought it made sense! You know, for the mood tonight. I mean, if you’re still not busy.” At this, Juandissimo paused, one hand on the back of his floating seat. “I didn't have plans, no... What was this for, again?” Cosmo raised his water glass to his lips. “I’m starting a new book.” “Book?” “I write children’s books. Can you teach me the preening patterns?” When Juandissimo said nothing, Cosmo set the glass aside, lifting a quivering eyebrow high. “Aren’t you one of them?”

That's a nod to something H.P. once talked about in Origin of the Pixies about Cosmo lacing Fairy World politics in his children's books and swaying public opinion from "natural insect preening behaviors are weird and should be kept hidden" to "actually they're a beautiful part of our culture and we should let those who still follow those traditions do so in peace."

Robin's very, very dead in my 'fics, but... he sure did exist. He'd be proud of his son.

[translationandbetrayals]

Princess Mononoke. The Beginning of a New Era

Princess Mononoke, an animated movie produced by Studio Ghibli, unveiled a form of animation never seen before, which dazzled millions of people and had great success and popularity, becoming the highest-grossing film in theaters in Japan in 1997 when it was released.

The film written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki dates back to the Muromachi period of Japanese history (1336-1573) and focuses on the story of Prince Ashitaka, who must leave his home to save himself from a curse that would soon end his life. During the film we are shown a world consumed by war where nature and its gods fight to save the home that humans are exploiting.

This film was the beginning of a new type of animated cinema for the studio and the world, functioning more as a format and not as a type of film aimed at children as the popular films of that time such as those of Disney. This is due to the sensitivity and depth of the elaborate topic it addresses.

The characters are very well developed and it is easy to empathize with them and love them.

Princess Mononoke called San, whom Ashitaka meets on his long journey, is an extremely remarkable female character who reflects the struggle of the repressed and nature with inexhaustible fury and courage. Tatara, a mining colony, reflects, on the other hand, the technological advances of humans and the damage that is being generated in the ecosystems only for the purpose of exploitation. The leader of the colony, Lady Eboshi, is also a very imposing female character who perfectly exposes the role of a strong leader highly respected by her people. Her actions could be questionable, but this does not mean that in this film there are good guys and bad guys as is normal, but rather that each side stands for its people in search of survival and well-being, you can empathize with both sides depending on your point of view. This makes the film unique, showing practically for the first time such female characters, a stereotype of the female leader; intelligent, feisty, brave never before worked in such a way and an extremely complex and beautiful conflict in its form that surprises anyone, from the little ones to the elderly. It may even be too crude for little ones as it does exquisite work in depicting the brutality and atrocities of war. in addition to showing a furious and terrifying nature.

Regarding the latter, it is important to mention this aspect of nature that is shown, which adds to the long list of new resources that were not previously exhibited in animation. In such a beautiful and sensitive way we are shown a more than alive forest, with majestic and surprising creatures. The fight of these animals for their home is simply incredible and has a whole background of the appropriation of habitats by humans. But it is not a sympathetic and submissive nature, it is vengeful, aggressive and desperate to prevail and take care of its flora and fauna, a fighting nature.

Miyazaki's work was undoubtedly without equal, he began with the idea for the film 30 years before its release, drawing its lush forests inspired by the well-known forests of Yakushima, and then during production since 1995 supervising each of the 144,000 cm³ of the film, scenes from 80,000 of them having been redesigned. A truly dazzling fact is the fact that 10% of the film was computer generated, the remaining 90% were hand-drawn.

We could say that despite being a fantastic film, it is at the same time extremely political and social criticism; Hayao Miyazaki himself says that it was a project to channel his anger at the wars in Yugoslavia. “After that, we couldn't go back and make movies like Kiki's Delivery Service (1989). It felt like children were coming into this world without being blessed. How could we pretend we were happy?”

Being my favorite film, I highly recommend it and I really highlight the delicacy with which the theme of war is treated, the images of nature, the movements and the work of its characters. If you have not seen it, I invite you to do so and learn more about the incredible journey of Prince Ashitaka and his red deer through this magical world.

- Martin Peñaloza Guazzoni, Post Octubre

[mariacallous]

On a recent visit to Istanbul ahead of Turkey’s critical May 14th elections, I was struck by a number of things.

The first was seeing how deeply scarred folks were from the February 6th earthquake — having been hit not only with grief but also the realization that at the end of his 20-year reign, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s hyper-centralized and dysfunctional governance system was partly to blame for the high number of casualties. Erdoğan’s re-election is no longer a foregone conclusion, which makes this election consequential not just for Turkish citizens but for the global balance of power.

Not surprisingly, friends, former colleagues, and ordinary people incessantly talked about the elections and the earthquake in the same breath. Many expressed anxieties about an anticipated mega-earthquake in Istanbul and described various escape plans. I ran into people who were stocking up on water in their cars, trying to buy property abroad, or making plans to move to a safer new apartment.

Between the concern about a massive Istanbul earthquake and the upcoming elections, the country seemed to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

I was also taken aback by the fact that nearly everyone had convinced themselves that Erdoğan would lose the upcoming vote. In interviews with journalists, opposition officials, and even bureaucrats, there was almost a blind conviction that this was Erdoğan’s last stand. So over-confident were they about the possibility of an opposition victory that of the dozens of friends and acquaintances I met in Istanbul, only two — one journalist and one media executive — said they believed Erdoğan would win it in the end.

There are, of course, perfectly fine reasons to make that assumption. The opposition bloc which consists of six parties is leading in the polls. Erdoğan’s authoritarian bargain with Turkish society seems to have collapsed — and younger people want change. With double-digit inflation, the once-efficient system of patronage is now openly criticized for nepotism. The government’s inadequate response to the earthquake has revealed that behind the omnipotent facade of the state, institutions were hollowed out, money was tight, and corruption was rampant. The ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) is no longer able to monopolize politics as it had a decade ago, and as a reflection of that, has seen a lower number of applicants than in previous years to run for parliamentary seats.

But there are reasons to be cautious. Elections are still six weeks away and a lot can happen in Turkey in that time frame. I worry about this certainty about change and its implications for Turkish society if Erdoğan is able to hold onto power. For many, that would mean something bigger than losing an election — a sense of being cheated, possibly public outrage, and nihilism about the country’s future. For people on both sides, Turkey’s political fight has come to represent a deeply personal and existential battle.

There is, of course, still a significant constituency that believes Erdoğan is the best person to lead Turkey. (A recent Metropoll survey finds that 43.5% think they would or would consider voting for Erdoğan while 51.6% say they won’t.) During Erdoğan’s first decade in power, the AKP’s policies liberalized Turkey and helped lift many citizens out of poverty by expanding social security and services. In the second half of his two-decade rule, Erdoğan skillfully instrumentalized culture wars, nationalism, and identity politics, giving Sunni conservatives a voice in Turkey’s destiny. With a unique combination of neo-Ottomanism and Islamism, he rebranded Turkey as an unstoppable rising power. To the AKP base, Erdoğan is the only man who can “Make Turkey Great Again.”

But for others, Erdoğan is responsible for Turkey’s authoritarian drift and economic despair. For them, world-order issues are secondary to economic survival. Many will be asking themselves, “Who can run the country better?” — or rather, “Under which government am I better off?”

The opposition has argued, somewhat persuasively, that the problem isn’t just Erdoğan himself but the country’s consolidated one-man regime, which has been written into law by a referendum that barely passed in 2017. The “Table of Six,” as the opposition is called, is the somewhat awkward coalition of six parties from the right to social democrats that is externally backed by the pro-Kurdish HDP. Its main pledge is undoing Erdoğan’s one-man regime and restoring the parliamentary system and rule of law.

That this opposition bloc has survived despite a daily barrage of government propaganda and fake news in a highly authoritarian setting is in itself an important testament to Turkish society’s desire for change.

But the opposition’s Achilles’ heel may well be its candidate — the 74-year-old Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu of the Republican People’s Party (CHP). The former civil servant is a soft-spoken social democrat who hails from Turkey’s Alevi/Alawite minority. The debate around Kılıçdaroğlu resembles the deliberations among U.S. Democrats prior to the 2020 elections. Yes, he is nice and all, but can he slay a dragon? After a year of infighting and drama, the opposition parties finally settled on Kılıçdaroğlu, with the strategy that his ticket would be strengthened by the popular mayors of Istanbul and Ankara, Ekrem İmamoğlu and Mansur Yavaş, who would serve as his deputies.

Kılıçdaroğlu is not trying to be another version of Turkey’s mercurial leader. If anything, he has positioned himself as the antithesis of the strongman — the ordinary family man making anti-corruption videos from his middle-class kitchen, the quiet uniter of the many different factions in Turkish society.

But his task is not easy — as this is the country that exported the concept of the “deep state” to the world lexicon, with a long-standing tradition of self-appointed guardians of the regime. Voter suppression is a reality in the Kurdish countryside and controlling the ballots during the counting process is critical to a win. And if Erdoğan’s chances are as low as polls suggest, why is it that Turks think “he seems relaxed”? Perhaps because the Turkish president holds levers of state power and has already used the courts to eliminate some of his key rivals, like Kurdish politician Selahattin Demirtaş or İmamoğlu. A splinter opposition party has just soared in polls, reportedly supported by government trolls — a tactic used in Hungary and Russia. On top of that, Turkey’s new election law is untested. I suspect this will make things harder for the opposition both in monitoring the vote and in attaining a parliamentary majority.

The problems facing Turkey wouldn’t stop with an Erdoğan defeat. The economy is certain to face headwinds — and possibly a currency crisis — immediately after the elections. A post-Erdoğan government’s ability to deal with inflationary pressures and the economic fallout from years of economic folly could be severely restrained if Erdoğan’s AKP manages to hold onto a parliamentary majority.

Meanwhile, the Turkish president has sharply pivoted to the right, making alliances with small parties that offer minimal advantages but a huge ideological burden. This includes the New Welfare Party, whose key demand was lifting the law that protects women against domestic violence, and the ultra-conservative HÜDA PAR, a descendent of the infamous Turkish Hezbollah that reigned terror in Kurdish communities in the late 1990s. This poisoned chalice may help Erdoğan here and there, but it is seen as existentially threatening to Turkey’s secularists, Kurds, and Alawites.

A lot of people ask me if it is even possible to dream of free elections in Turkey and if Erdoğan would ever concede if he lost. The answer is: yes. If the difference is narrow, say 1% to 2%, forget it. The elections would be contested à la U.S. President Donald Trump and Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro. But if the opposition win is bigger than 2%, then it is irreversible. Erdoğan has built his legitimacy on elections and could not contest a decisive win.

The scariest outcome for Turkey would be a neck-and-neck situation, in which both sides claim victory. An effective organization to monitor the ballots across the country on May 14th will be critical for the opposition. In the 2019 local elections, the opposition won Istanbul (and other big cities) due to its vigilance; some observers slept on sealed ballot boxes to prevent rigging. The opposition would have to replicate that across the country, including in the conservative hinterland and the Kurdish countryside.

Turkey will face difficult years ahead no matter who wins. My recent visit made me realize that the country, once a rising star on the periphery of Europe, was broken — broken by earthquakes, economic hardship, and above all, polarization. If the opposition wins, there will be a chance to restore democracy and perhaps even effective economic governance. But the bare-knuckle politics of the last few years will make it hard to build national consensus on key issues.

The election can only, in the best of circumstances, be the beginning of a long process of healing the Turkish political and economic system.

But regardless, it would be good to begin.