#I'm not even telling it from his perspective which makes it even harder!

[danikatze]

I've continued writing the UmeMatsu fic (on and off for two weeks now) and I completely understand why I took a break from it. It's so hard to write someone who's not great at articulating feelings and difficult events in their life, but then is actually trying to articulate feelings and difficult events in their life.

[eroscomet]

Make it Right

Chapter two- Hauting for Home

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Paring: Astrid Deetz x Fem!Ghost!Reader

Warnings: Mentions death, a bit angsty, bad writing. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 3k+

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while to make. I was busy on the weekend; however, I found time to finally finish the chapter for you all! I really do hope you guys enjoy this one! I will try to get a specific schedule for updates on certain stories. If you guys are wondering about updates for 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours,' I will try to update that as soon as possible. I will also be doing a couple drabbles on different characters and or drabbles of characters I've already written for. I would also like to thank you guys so much for all the support you all have been showing me! I am so thankful and grateful for each and every one of you! Thank you so much for every like, reblog, and comment, it means a lot to me!

╰┈➤Series Masterlist

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"You talked to my dad?!" Astrid had exclaimed with an amused smile on her face. There it was, that twinkle in her eye that you had missed so much. She hadn't been very happy recently, with you not around and everything else in her life that had been happening.

"Yeah, when I had first died. I got sent to the immigration office, and what do you know? There he was behind the glass. He's just as kind as you always told me he'd be. Surprisingly, he immediately recognized me. He told me that he had been watching after you and practically watched our love 'blossom,' as he put it." The two of you continued walking outside.

You couldn't help but think about how people must be seeing this. Astrid looked as if she were talking to herself from an outside perspective. Aware of her past, you knew people had a tendency to bully her, so when nearing Miss Shannon's School for Girls, you tried to get her to talk as much so that others wouldn't look at her funny. So, you took up most of the time on the way there, talking as much as she could so that she didn't have time to talk. Which was odd because she was usually the one who'd talk while you'd listen.

"He said he liked me, which is a relief. Sometimes, I feel like your mom is more confused but is trying to be supportive. I mean, remember when I had first come over, and she started talking about how she too 'experimented' as she said. Anyway, that isn't the point. I met your dad, and we actually frequently visited you together. It's funny, sometimes we'd bond over how much we missed you."

Astrid's eyes had furrowed as she had begun to notice that every time she began or wanted to speak, you only spoke faster, almost sputtering out information. A frown tugged at your lips as she had caught on.

"I just don't want people to look at you even more weirder than they already do. If you're talking to yourself, they'll find that an easy target. Try...putting on some headphones and pretending you're on the phone? Or you can just put your phone up to your ear?"

She smiled as she took her phone out of her pocket and brought it up to her ear.

"Thanks, you're right. So, what else did he say about me? Did you see my grandfather? What's the afterlife like?" Astrid felt like she had a million different questions to ask.

"Your dad says he's proud of you and that he sees himself in you all the time. As for your grandpa, no. I mean, I feel as if it's harder to find him since he did lose his head to a shark. The afterlife is a bit weird. I can't tell you much about it since I haven't exactly crossed over. I basically only know what headquarters and a few shops look like. I mean, there's a 'Soul Train' which essentially takes you to the 'Great Beyond,' but I never went because I don't want to risk not being able to watch over you."

You grabbed Astid's shoulders, moving beside her to walk toward the street end of the sidewalk. Even though you were dead, the sidewalk rule never really left you, even while Astrid couldn't even see you.

"Yeah, I figured. I almost can't believe that a shark bite ended his life, I knew my family wasn't normal, but we can't even have a somewhat normal death? The Great Beyond, huh? Soul Train is a clever name though. Does no one know what's on the side?"

"I mean, I've never seen someone leave then come back from the train in the full year, almost two years that I've been here. I'm not taking the risk and crossing anyway, I can't lose you again after we just got back to each other."

"You're right..." Her eyebrows furrowed, her attention on the sidewalk as they continued to walk. She thought to herself for a moment before speaking again.

"So, you don't have any ghost tricks you learned?"

"Of course, you'd ask that, would you be disappointed in me if I said I didn't?"

"I mean, you've been gone for a year almost two, I'd expect you to know at least something to make me feel better for all the time you've been gone."

"Okay, uhhh... I can walk through walls and, I guess, float a bit."

"That sounds like every other ghost."

"Just because i'm a ghost doesn't mean I have super powers, Astrid."

"Just saying."

"I mean, I do have this nasty scar from the accident." You lowered your shirt neckline, showing the scar on the lower part of your neck. Astrid winced at the scar before looking away.

"Right. Weird how all it took was one neck twist for you to die.

"Well, it's more like my neck twisted as if I was a cartoon character that got punched, and my head began spinning-"

"Ew, shut up. Don't talk about it like it's something light."

"I'm sorry, you're right."

It was silent for a bit as you guys walked into the school, Astrid opened one of the doors while you phased right through the other door. Astird put her phone back into her pocket as she walked upstairs and past the other students. You followed after her, your eyebrows furrowing at the other students nearby her dorm. Some of them whispering to each other while giggling.

That's when Astrid opened her dorm room's door, a bedsheet attached to the ceiling by a rope coming straight towards her. The bedsheet makes out a ghost with a 'Boo' sign in its chest area. Astrid stumbled back before turning around and looking at the other girls, who began to burst out into laughter behind her.

"When you're all driving carpool and banging your pilates instructor to fill the empty voids in your life, we'll see who gets the last laugh."

The girls smiles and laughs quickly died as she finished speaking. Astrid turned around as she went into her room, shutting the door behind her. You smiled proudly, a laugh escaping you as you saw the looks on the girls faces as they disburst from Astrid's door.

"Witty as always." You said as you phased through her dorm room's door. The make-shift ghost on the ceiling startling you a bit as you had almost 'ran' into it. Sometimes you forget you're a ghost even if it's been a year.

"They have not toned down with the comments? You had always been careful about this topic, not wanting to bring it up too much with Astrid.

"No." It was a simple and straightforward answer that made you not want to question further. A part of you felt angry that you were helpless to all of it now that you're dead. You had gotten so used to defending her against everyone but now your words would only fall on deaf ears.

You sighed as you plopped yourself onto her dorm room's bed, thinkiing for a moment on how to steer away the conversation of bullying that she obviously did not want to talk about.

"Did you hear that my sister's pregnant? I know that I shouldn't bother looking over them since they're perfectly fine.."

"I'm not surprised."

"She's naming the baby after me."

"God, that's ridiculous! Naming their kid after a relative who isn't even dead yet-" Astrid's voice faltered for a moment. The fact that you were dead and have been for almost two years was still a punch in the gut after all this time.

"That's what I said, baby." You offered her a small smile as you played into the bit that you were still alive for Astrid. She still wanted to make her at least feel a bit better.

'Baby.'

Your words - and your smile, even if it was for her benefit - just made Astrid's heart twist further in her chest.

"You're killing me here."

"Why?" Your head tilted to the side as you looked at her.

"Because you're supposed to be dead." Her voice came out in a strangled whisper as she looked down at the papers scattered on her desk.

You bit your lip, you didn't want to show that what Astrid had said hurt you. Even if you were dead, you still had emotions and feelings. You paused for a moment before deciding to drop the topic.

"So, they're having a baby shower. You should go."

"Oh god, a baby shower? Is it too late to make you disappear again?" Her face had immediately scrunched up with distaste at the idea of being forced to go to a baby shower - especially your self-centered sister's baby shower where she'd name her child after you for her own gain.

"Come on, you couldn't see me for a whole year, and now that you're finally able to, you already want to get rid of me? That's cold, babe, even for you. Even for me who's dead cold. Get it? Huh? Dead cold. Because i'm dead? And i'm cold now because I have no blood. No? Okay."

"Oof, that was horrible." She said as she shook her head and grumbled in response.

"Come on, admit you missed me. I heard all your late-night talks that you thought weren't reaching my ears."

"I did miss you - I've missed you for a whole year." She confessed, sounding a bit surprised by her own confession. The room fell silent, the weight of everything that had happened falling onto the both of them. Neither of them wanted to address it, though, they didn't want to have to deal with it now.

"Did you ever-" She paused for a moment as she thought of the right words to say, "When I'd lay in your bed and mope, were you just...watching me?"

"No, I hated that. I'd still do what I would've done if I were alive. I tried holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear that never got to you."

"Sweet nothings, huh?" She teased, which earned an eye roll from you. Again, the room had fell silent as the two were lost in thought before Astrid spoke again, breaking the silence.

"How bad did it hurt?"

"Uh.. Well... I just remember being on the ground one second, then in the air the next. I landed, and well- You know what. It had hurt for that second that I was alive, but it had been an instant death if anything."

Having to talk about your death wasn't an easy topic. It was a reminder of how quick you had lost it all. The blood in your system, the beat of your heart, Astrid. The sight of you nervously fidgeting with your own fingers made Astrid's heart ache.

"I hate that." She muttered, her voice coming in strained, almost as if she was forcing herself to get the words out.

"I'm sorry." Your words were mumbled as she continued to fidget with your fingers, now more anxiously than before. The apology caused Astrid to shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together. She felt that now was not the time to start breaking down.

"Don't. Don't apologize." She had almost snapped at you as she opened her eyes to shoot a glare at you.

"Okay." You were never one to go against her word, you didn't want to start a fight. Especially not now. All you could do was bring up one of your hands, beginning to gently pull on the hairs on the back of your neck as you avoided Astrid's eyes.

"Is that a nervous habit of yours now? Pulling your hair." She asked as she reached her hand out idly to brush your hair out of your eyes.

"I had gotten it when I first reached the afterlife. When you watch the people you love hurting, and all you can do is ghost around them..." Your voice had faltered, forcing yourself to clear your throat and then begin to speak again.

"You feel so helpless. Watching everyone who used to be around you and love you so miserable about your death. It makes you feel guilty but, most of all, useless. There's no way to hold, touch, talk to, comfort them... It's hard."

The room had fallen silent after your words. Astrid's fingertips gently brushed along the back of your head - tracing the place that you usually pulled at. She let her hand rest there, trying to keep you from pulling at your hair again.

"How cold am I?"

Your words made Astrid pause for a moment. Leaning closer to you as she wrapped an arm around her now ghost girlfriend. The chill of your skin made her shiver involuntarily - but Astrid tried not to show the way her body automatically wanted to shy away from the cold.

"Really damn cold. It's like you're an ice cube almost." Her words a mumble as she got closer to you, laying next to you as she rested her head on top of yours.

"I'm sorry that I'm not warm anymore." Your own words come out as a mumble as well, instinctively, your head rests on her shoulder.

"I know you don't much like when it's really cold. I thought I was keeping myself with this sweater but now that someone's actually able to touch me, I realize it's doing nothing for me."

"Gosh, you don't have to apologize for that. At least you're here." She pulled you closer against her, her arms wrapping around your waist - burtying her face into your shoulder, even if your skin was freezing and caused a slight burn against her own warm skin. She ignored the way that her body had involutarily shivered at the contact - focusing instead on the fact that her girlfriend was here.

"Barely." You mumbled quietly as you gently pulled away from your girlfriend, knowing that you were probably burning Astrid's skin with your own cold, dead skin that was now a pale blue hue.

"Don't be like that. You're talking as if you have no more hope."

"Death has a way of doing that."

Astrid let out a quiet huff at your words. Her eyes flickered back and forth from you and her own hands that were now gripped tightly on her bedding - but in the next moment, she let go. Almost as if with a full burst of speed, she darted to you. Her arms wrapping around your body, hauling you into her bed in a tight, crushing embrace.

"Astrid-" You had said in surprise and protest. You knew that you were cold. Dead. The cold would burn Astrid at one point, and you didn't want that. Not when you used to be alive and warm for her. You used to keep her warm and now you can only burn her with your icy dead skin.

"Don't even think about complaining. I don't care if you're cold." Astrid snapped as she held you impossibly close against her. Her body shivered once again as your cold skin was like a bucket of cold water dumped over her body - but she ignored the cold, focusing on the sensation of her girlfriend in her arms.

A frown had tugged at your lips, knowing that eventually, Astrid would get too cold, but after a year of being a lone ghost who watched your loved ones move on or suffer because of you, you couldn't help but be a little selfish. Your arms wrapped around her as tightly as you could.

You missed your girlfriend so much. Watching over her for a year, her suffering for a full year over your death, had done a number on you. You'd cry if you could, but all you felt was this deep internal sadness. You had no heartbeat, you had no blood to warm your body, you had no tears to shed from your dry eyes. Your chest was the most still it had ever been, you had no air to breathe anymore.

It had begun to feel like too much for the both of them. Being this close to each other after a year of thinking they'd never be able to have contact again, feeling each other's skin despite the feeling of a small burning on her own skin from your own. It was almost enough to make Astrid cry.

The cold was beginning to seep into her skin - making her shiver and leaving her skin prickled. But Astrid wouldn't - couldn't - let go of you. Not when it had been a year since she was able to hold you. You had only frowned as you held her tighter. A small hiss escaped Astrid from the cold contact as she tried to get herself impossibly closer to you.

"Damn it, it's getting too cold." She hissed, speaking between clenched teeth as she tried to bury her face into your shoulder further.

"Warm up with the blankets, I'll just lay beside you. I promise I won't disappear." You pulled away, gently moving Astrid off of yourself as you carefully pulled her bedsheets over her body. When you finished tucking her in, you lay beside her, admiring every detail you could land your eyes on.

She only huffed a bit, feeling oddly petulant about the fact that she had to let go of you However, she did as she was told. A small shiver rattled her body as her eyes locked onto yours. She managed to mumble something incohereently as she reached for you, trying to tug you close again.

"Too cold, baby. Just give it a moment. I'm here, you see me." You tried to reassure her as you gently tugged a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Baby.' The soft nickname only made her want to pull you close again, but she knew that you were right. Her boy was cold - skin still pricked and burned from being in contact with her girlfriend. She snuggled further into the bedding, her hand gently reaching out to yours. Linking her own pinky with yours, causing you to smile. Her eyes looked into yours as if asking if it was okay to which you had nodded.

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A/N: I don't know why this felt like such a short chapter to me despite it being the most words I've written so far?? I might have some filler chapters for this and 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours' sometimes. Then again, there is still a lot to write for the storyline themselves. Thank you, lovelies, for all the support on my posts! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm so sorry if some days I do not have time to update. Also, if there's anyone that wants to be tagged for updates on this story, leave a comment saying so! Bye, loves!

[rockrosethistle]

Workin Boys was literally the only thing that saved Hidgens from being flanderized beyond recognition

(Spoilers for Workin' Boys)

So what I think a lot of people don't give much thought to is how much Professor Hidgens as a character has evolved since tgwdlm, essentially becoming a parody of himself.

Think of Hidgens as a character. What are his defining traits?

Did you think about how he is a doomsday prepper who has been stockpiling supplies for 20 years? Because that's how he's introduced in Guy.

Did you try think about how he has a weird relationship with his Alexa? Or did we forget about that?

In fact, for the majority of TGWDLM, Hidgens' main character trait is that he says weird shit with a Doc Brown voice.

The whole concept of Workin Boys isn't even introduced until the last half hour of the show. That's where he reveals his real motivation: to live out the musical he wrote as a young man.

Actually, no, that's not right. Because his motivation was world peace, and Workin Boy's was just a convenient means to that end.

I won't disregard the fact that Hidgens clearly has an emotional connection to the show, but in Guy, it serves as a punchline rather than a driving force.

So now we have this lovely, morally-grey, multi-layered character that we can work with.

By the time we get to Time Bastard, the fandom is expecting a show stopping number reference, so of course we get that.

But at this point, Hidge is still that multi-layered character. Sure, showstopping number gets a callback, but we also get a callback to his strange relationship with robots. They make up an equal part of him as a character.

By the time we get to Honey Queen, we have lost several aspects of Hidgens altogether. He is no longer a doomsday-believing recluse. He is now active in the community and his only motivation is to get his show funded. He brings it up at every chance he gets, and his loyalties lie with whoever is more likely to make Workin Boys happen.

So how the hell do we come back from this?

Well, at first it seems like we're not going to. Workin' Boys (the short film) comes out, and it looks like we're leaning even harder into this aspect of his personality than before. But then we get hit with something we're not expecting: Hidge gets the Ted Spankoffski treatment.

I'm referring to Ted's backstory in Time Bastard, where we learn that all of his actions actually stem from a single, traumatic moment, which in his eyes forced him to alter his behaviour, so as to not go through the same trauma again.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

The backstory we get from Hidgens certainly puts things in perspective. No, it's not enough to explain why his behaviour has been so laser-focused on this one show, but it's a start.

Then comes the part that changes everything.

It's left up to interpretation whether these ghosts Hidge is seeing are actually there, or just hallucinations, but that doesn't really matter.

Hidgens had been through a horrible experience, so traumatizing that he is still literally being haunted by it decades later. For one reason or another, he believes that the only way he can relieve himself of these ghosts is by bringing honor to the loved ones he's lost and telling their stories.

This reveal recontextualizes everything we know about Hidgens as a character. Suddenly, this isn't a story about some guy who just really wants to put on his musical, this is a story about guilt. Of course it would be the driving factor in his life. Look at him apologizing to his boys. He feels like he is slandering their memories with everything that goes wrong for the show.

This is supported even more with the ending.

Henry Hidgens dies with a smile on his face, believing he's finally achieved his goal: to tell the real story of what happened that night.

It finally makes sense as to why we've lost those parts of him--we've retconned the character by revealing that all that simplification of his goals and traits wasn't flanderization at all, but a steady downward spiral of grief over his loved ones. It wasn't Hidgens getting a little too into being a playwrite, it was him descending into madness caused by the inability to please the part of himself (or the literal ghosts, if that's how you interpret it) that believes he's not doing enough.

And if not for Workin' Boys, he would have remained that one-dimensional character.

[talaofthevalley]

Wonder what woulda happened if Ai hadn't interrupted here.

Cause like, Yusaku and Spectre are like mirrors of each other, this episode establishes that pretty clearly. And even though Playmaker starts out thinking every victim thought the incident was alike to hell, you do see signs that he's trying to understand Spectre's perspective. He asks Spectre questions, and interestingly Spectre answers, honestly at that.

Playmaker asks, and listens, and it seems like he's on the verge of something when Ai interrupts the conversation.

I don't exactly think Ai was wrong to pull this, they had no time and Ai is correct that it's pointless to talk to Spectre right now, since nothing except for Revolver's word would have made him let Playmaker pass. But the more interesting part for me comes from what he says after;

Beyond showcasing Ai's ability to manipulate, if Ai meant this seriously and thought it would play a big part in putting Yusaku into complete duel mode, then Ai doesn't understand Yusaku very well.

He says Yusaku and Spectre are nothing alike, which a normal watcher who's paid attention can pretty easily dispute. Playmaker doesn't acknowledge this claim, only realises they're on a time limit and they need to move. It's the reminder that the Tower of Hanoi is activating that gets him moving. Being told they're nothing alike isn't reassuring for Yusaku, because he's already realised him and Spectre are alike.

It's those similarities that make Yusaku understand Spectre a little, relate to him in a way he couldn't with any other Knight of Hanoi. But even when Yusaku relates or understands his opponent, it doesn't stop him from fighting. Yusaku's thrown from meeting someone with such a opposite perspective on the incident that ruined his life, but still possess such large similarities to him.

While Yusaku cannot comprehend enjoying the incident like Spectre did, I think he understands and relates to some of what Spectre describes here.

What little we know of Yusaku's life post-Lost Incident is that he recieved treatment for what he went through, tried to forget the incident and live a normal life. When we're shown flashbacks of young Yusaku after the incident, he's notably distant from everyone, if not physically then in his expression.

A big empty room filled with toys. No reaction to a kind-looking woman gently holding his hand. Introduced to what seems to be a new class of kids he doesn't know. Sat at the back, apart from the rest. Even if Yusaku was treated nicer than Spectre was, it was obviously not enough and came with its own hardships. And if he couldn't even talk about his experiences like Spectre, it would make adjusting even harder and the distance between him and others larger.

I'm especially honing in on the comment Spectre makes about Yusaku's life before the incident.

"If the incident hurt you, you must've led a happy a happy life before."

Spectre doesn't know that, he's drawing a conclusion based on observation and the information he has. But it's a conclusion Yusaku can't affirm or deny, because he doesn't have any memories of his life before the incident. The idea that the reason it affected him so much being because he was happy beforehand might not have even crossed his mind.

And then we have this fun little tidbit;

A place to belong. Something we in retrospect knows Yusaku feels he doesn't have, but wants. He can understand that desire very well. And if Spectre feels he has found that place with Revolver, then who is Yusaku to tell him he's wrong?

This framing tells a thousand words I think, cause we have Playmaker and Spectre in the same shot, but the focus is on Playmaker's face. It's hard to read his expression, but to me it comes off as thoughtful, still serious but he's considering Spectre's words and conviction here like he would any other opponent. It's like watching Yusaku building an understanding towards Spectre in real time.

Yusaku can understand that kind of loyalty. That unwavering dedication to someone who saved your soul when you needed it the most.

There are so many moments in S1 where Yusaku pulls on the memory of that person to gather strenght, to accomplish his goal of not only defeating Hanoi and learn the truth, but to meet that person again and save them if they are still in danger. Yusaku has survived this far on the memory of that kind voice that reached out to him at his lowest. He's dedicated in a way that, if he ever came to learn of the details, I think Spectre would similarly relate to.

dunno man it's fun to think about. I still have the rest of the duel to rewatch so who knows maybe my brain will be tickled even further or I've said something super contradicting that will be shown in just the following episode. The amount this show can give me to gnaw on in a single episode is kind of amasing.

[dreamcatcheratdawn]

"Until then, I'll wait for you"

I hope this is what you wanted @is2sae, please give feedback 🥹♥️.

Emparelhamento: Itoshi Sae x Fem!reader

Warning: slight mention of blood, a bit of angst, relationship established implicitly, mentions of Itoshi Rin, mentions of Sae's departure for Spain, fluffy ending.

Itoshi Sae, from the start, was a weirdly cute person. Starting with his dream of becoming the best striker in the world. The first time he told you this was when you were standing under a giant fig tree in the park, recovering from the exhaustion of playing ball for almost an hour. Hearing him say it was the cutest thing, his eyes full of sparkle and a smile on his face as he looked up at the blue sky full of clouds.

Oh, the way you met was also highly unusual. A mistimed kick from him resulted in the ball going straight into your face as you made your way home, since school was out. It was when you were both 7 years old, in a playground where there was a soccer field with lots of kids playing on it.

Your nose itched and you felt a warm liquid run down your skin. Taking your hand to the spot, you saw that it was blood. When Itoshi Sae saw it, he immediately despaired and ran towards you, too nervous about the situation to remember his soccer ball. Despite the fact that you, who had been a calmer person since birth, said that everything was fine, he insisted on treating you, resulting in him taking you to his house so that his mother could stop the bleeding.

From then on you started seeing each other quite often, you taking the same route and him playing in the same place at the same time. It started with little nods to each other, then Sae mustered up enough courage to call you over to play with him. And if you didn't know anything about soccer, he was willing to teach you everything from scratch.

Despite being a closed person, Sae was affectionate in his own way with both you and his older brother, Rin. Speaking of his younger brother, you met a month after your new friendship with Sae, when on another occasion you were going to play with Sae, but he had a little boy next to him, a mini version of Sae's total opposite. Rin turned out to be just as good at soccer as his brother, in your eyes that is, since you didn't understand the soccer perspective.

Years passed and the trio's friendship grew stronger every day, where their refuge was now a nice game of soccer. Did you need to calm your nerves? No problem, call Sae and he'll have a game with you. Were you sad? Rin was there to cheer you up too.

Everything was a bed of roses until the day Sae brought the news that he was going on a trip to Spain. The spoonful of ice cream in your mouth stopped in mid-air, making you raise your eyes in his direction. "You're kidding, right?" you said with a smile on your face, staring at him. His serious face showed that he wasn't joking at all.

"I need to go after my dream." That's what he said, lowering his gaze to his already melted ice cream. A lump began to form in your throat, and you frowned, praying that it was just your hearing failing once again. "I'm sorry I'm only telling you now. But I'll be back" Sae looked up, a look of determination on his face "And then I'll take you with me" And just like that, there went your best friend on his journey to be the best striker in the world.

At the airport, you cried in his arms before he left, your arms encircling Sae's body tightly. Words of comfort were whispered from both of you, making promises you didn't know would be kept until then. A silent kiss on the lips was given, neither of you found this act strange, it felt natural and even seemed like you had been dating for years. Rin didn't show up, which indicated that he was too sad to be able to say goodbye to his own brother.

Since that day, you've worked harder and harder to get a good job and earn a living. You missed your passion, of course, but you respected his decision and were there to support him. Your friendship with Rin was still there, and he became more open with you as he grew up. As you were older than him, he saw you as a sister he could lean on for anything.

You and Sae still exchanged messages, albeit rarely, because he was too busy chasing his dream.

A few years passed and you were watching Rin play with the ball that used to be Sae's, in the field now covered with a fluffy blanket of white snow falling from the gray sky. Until Sae appeared, approaching you while carrying a suitcase. He was wearing a team uniform, and he looked...tired?

Rin, obviously delighted at her brother's arrival, ran up to him, starting to chatter happily about everything he'd done over the years that Sae had been away, hoping that her brother would be proud. Sae just patted his little brother on the head, muttering "good job".

Now looking at you, he asked the two of you to go somewhere quieter to talk. Not that that wasn't an ideal place, but Rin was there, so you figured. You nodded, telling Rin you'd be right back, to which he nodded as he went to play with his ball.

Going to a nearby park, you sat on the toy swing there, waiting patiently for what Sae was going to say.

"I couldn't fulfill my dream." It was the first thing he said after an eternity of silence. Your heart skipped a beat, seeing Sae's face looking down, her lips being bitten with such pressure that you feared they would bleed. His hands clenched the rope that supported the swing, his knuckles turning white with the force he put into it.

You didn't have to ask why he hadn't told you before, why he had omitted that fact or even why he hadn't gotten what he wanted so badly. Maybe it was shame, but it didn't matter. You just stood up from your seat, gently hugging Sae's trembling body, without so much as a peep. A kiss was planted on the sweet lips of the man you loved so much, drawing his attention. That's all he needed right now, a little consolation, and he knew he'd get it from you, the person he loved from the first time he saw you.

It was short, but I hope you enjoyed it. Our boy Sae needs comfort, no one can get it out of my head *inner cry*

[foodtruckery]

Okay wait, tell me if this is too much, But!

Man ABO verse where Stan does present as an omega before he’s kicked out. Like he goes into his first heat while his parents are out of town for a week (his mind and body feeling safe and relaxed for once???) and the only alpha around to help is Ford. So being the brother he is, and since this is before the science fair incident, he helps Stan through his heat. Things still run its course and Stan still gets kicked out, but this? It’s even angstier because Stan and Ford have sort of acknowledged their feelings for each other, been closer than ever, and now Ford is hurt, betrayed, and turning away from Stan. And Stan has been hurt, betrayed, and abandoned by the only good Alpha he knows (both their parents are Betas bc Fuck Filbrick he doesn’t deserve to be an alpha). And to tie it off?

Stan’s pregnant (I know mpreg can squick people out, sorry). He’s pregnant, and Ford doesn’t know, won’t elbow until a decade later when he asks for Stan’s help and Stan brings along these almost 10 year twins with 6 fingers

definitely not too much, anon! i actually think i've read at least one fic that was similar to this, at least with the first half - stan and ford both presenting at home, stan going into heat, ford helping - which was a delight!

i'll be honest, the pregnancy bit doesn't typically do it for me (not a squick exactly, just not really my thing!). BUT. i will say that i do really love thinking about how things may have changed on stan's end if he had gotten kicked out and realized he was pregant. i think in that situation, it would be a BIG deal if he decided to even see that shit through (and idk maybe he seriously considers not, but finding out it's twins??? that's harder and worse in most ways but it also makes it harder to terminate).

but if stan did end up pregnant and he did keep them? i think it's WAY more likely that stan would have established more stability in his life a lot faster. by himself, he's wrapped up in a lot of the anger, the get-rich-quick mentality, the 'i don't need anyone' and the self loathing that leads to self sabotage and putting himself in dicey situations.

but with kids to look out for??? fuck that. sure there's still a lot of "fuck i can't do this, they'd be better off with someone else," and he's definitely still hurt and angry, angrier in some ways even. but i think he'd be more willing to accept help when it's offered (i could see him running a "poor pregnant omega" racket, which isn't really a racket but that's how he'd see it, for sympathy and cash, but accidentally attracting some sincerely concerned good samaritans). it'd be easier to settle for "good enough," cause if he can't prove his family wrong by getting rich, at least he can prove that he's a better fucking parent.

and honestly i say all that specifically to set up (and i'm sorry cause i think this might be a sharp left from where you were going with this anon) that i think it would be SO much more interesting if, when stan gets the ask from ford, he's already settled in with someone else (my jimmy snakes affection rears its head again here) and actually doing...pretty well, all things considered. it puts him and ford in two VERY different places - life-wise and their perspectives of the relationship they'd had - and further complicates an already sticky stituation.

[odinsblog]

When most people talk about expanding the Supreme Court, they're talking about adding a few Justices, two or four to the bench. But I am not most people. I do not think we should add a few Justices to get into an endless tit for tat with Mitch McConnell and his Federalist Society forces. I think we should blow the lid clear off this incrementally institutionalized motherfucker, and add 20 Justices.

I'd like to tell you about my Court expansion plan and explain why adding many Justices instead of fewer Justices is actually a better reform, fixes more underlying problems with the Court, and works out to be less partisan or political than some of the more incremental plans out there.

Let's start with the basics.

Expanding the number of Justices on the Supreme Court can be done with a simple act of Congress, passed by the Senate and signed by the President. Court expansion does not become easier or harder based on the number of Justices you seek to add to the Court. From a civics perspective, the process to add two Justices to the Court is just the same as the process to add 20.

Arguably, the rationale is the same too.

The current plan, supported by some Democrats, is to add four Justices to the Supreme Court. Their arguments are that the Court has gotten woefully out of step with the American people and the elected branches of government, which is true.

They argue that the country is a lot bigger now than it was in 1869, when Congress set the number of Supreme Court Justices at nine, which is also true. Basically, all of these arguments flow together into the catchphrase, “we have 13 Circuit Courts of Appeal, and so we should have 13 Justices.”

See, back in the day, each Supreme Court Justice was responsible for one lower Circuit Court of Appeal. Procedurally, appeals from the lower circuits are heard first by the Justice responsible for that circuit. But now we have 13 lower Circuit Courts of Appeal, meaning some Justices have to oversee more than one. If we expanded the Court to 13 Justices, we'd get back to a one to one ratio for Supreme Court Justice per Circuit Court of Appeal.

But it doesn't actually matter how many circuits each Justice presides over, because all the Justices do is move an appeal from the lower court to the Supreme Court for the full Court to consider whether to hear the appeal.

Their function is purely clerical.

It doesn't matter.

One justice could oversee all 13 circuits while the other eight went fishing, kind of like hazing a rookie on a team. And it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference in terms of the number of cases the Supreme Court hears. It's just a question of who has to work on Saturdays.

Indeed, I'm not even sure that I want the Court to hear more cases. These people are unelected, and these people already have too much power. More cases just gives them more opportunities to screw things up. I don't need the Court to make more decisions. I need the Court to make fewer shitty decisions. And for that, I need to reform how the Court makes those decisions. And for that, I need more people. And I need those people to make their decisions in panels.

Those lower courts, those 13 Circuit Courts of Appeal, almost all of them operate with more than nine judges. The 9th Circuit Court of Appeals has — wait for it — 29 judges!

All the lower courts use what's called a panel system. When they catch a case, three judges are chosen at random from all the judges on the circuit to hear the case. Those three judges then issue a ruling. If the majority of the circuit disagrees, they can vote to rehear the case as a full circuit.

The legal jargon here is called “en banc” when the full circuit hears the case.

But most of the time, that three judge panel ruling is the final ruling on the issue, with the circuit going en banc only when they believe the three judge panel got it clearly wrong.

Think about how different it would be if our Supreme Court operated on a panel system instead of showing up to Court knowing that six conservative Justices were against you, or the one or two conservative Justices that you invited onto your super yacht are guaranteed to hear your case.

You literally wouldn't know which Justices you'd get on your panel.

Even on a six-three conservative court, you might draw a panel that was two-to-one liberals, or you might draw Roberts, Kavanaugh, and Barrett instead of Thomas, Alito and Gorsuch, which could make a huge difference. Either way, you wouldn't know which Justices you'd get.

Not only does that make a big difference in terms of the appearance of fairness, especially in this time when some Justices are openly corrupt, it also makes a big difference in terms of what kinds of cases and arguments people would bring to the Court. Without knowing which Justices they'd get, litigants and red state attorney generals would have to tailor their arguments to a more center mass, mainstream temperament, instead of merely shooting their shot and hoping their arch conservatives can bully a moderate or two to vote with them.

Now, you can do panels with nine or 13 Justices, but you pretty much have to do panels with 29 Justices. Overloading the Court with Justices would essentially force them to adopt the random assignment process used by every other Court.

That would be good.

Sure, litigants could always hope for en banc review, where the full partisan makeup of the Court could be brought to bear. BUT, getting a majority of 29 Justices to overrule a panel decision requires 15 votes. Consider that right now you only need four votes, a minority of the nine member Court, to get the full Court to hear a case.

I'm no mathlete, but I'm pretty sure that 15 is just a higher bar.

That brings me to my next big point about expanding the Court to 29: Moderation.

Most people say that they do not want the Court to be too extreme to either side. Generally, I think that argument is bollocks. I, in fact, do want the Court to be extreme in its defense of voting rights, women's rights, and human rights. But maybe I'm weird.

If you want the Supreme Court to be a more moderate institution, then you should want as many Justices on the Supreme Court as possible. Why? Because cobbling together a 15-14 majority on a 29 member Court will often yield a more moderate decision than a five-four majority on a nine member Court.

Not going to lie. The law is complicated, and judges are quirky. If you invited five judges off the street over for a barbecue, they wouldn't be able to agree on whether hot dogs and hamburgers count as sandwiches.

It's simply easier to get five people to do something extreme than it is to get 15 people to do something extreme.

Think about your own life.

If you wanted to hike up a damn mountain, that is an activity for you and a couple of your closest friends. You're not taking 15 people to climb a mountain. That's not even a hike. That's an expedition, and you're expecting one or two of them to be eaten by bears on the way to the top. But if you're organizing an outdoor activity for 15 people, you're going to go to the park, and your friends will be expected to bring their own beer.

Most likely, adding 20 Justices would moderate the conservative majority just by putting enough people and personalities in the mix that it would be harder for them to do their most destructive work.

Just think about how the five worst senators you know, or the five worst congresspeople you can think of, often don't get their way because they can't even convince other members of their party to go along with their nihilist conservative ride.

Note, I said Conservative majority.

The astute reader will notice that I have not said that I want to add 20 fire-breathing liberal comrades who will stick it to Das Kapital for the rest of their lives. No, I believe the benefits of this kind of court expansion are so great — panels and the moderation from having more justices trying to cobble together en banc majority opinions — that I'd be willing to split the new justices ten and ten with conservative choices.

A 16-13 conservative leaning court would just be better than a six-three conservative court, even if my guys are still in the minority. The only litmus test I'd have for this plan is that all 20 have to be objectively pro-Democratic, self-government. All 20 have to think the Supreme Court has too much power. You give me 20 people who think the court should not be rulers in robes, and I'll take my chances.

However, there's no objective reason for elected Democrats to be as nice and friendly as I am when adding 20 Justices. Off the top, seats should be split eleven to nine, because Mitch McConnell and the Republicans must be made to pay for their shenanigans with the Merrick Garland nomination under Barack Obama. Republicans stole a seat. Democrats should take it back, full stop. I will take no further questions about this.

From there, this is where Democrats could, I don't know, engage in political hardball instead of being SAPS like always.

You see, right now, Republicans are dead set against court expansion because they are winning with the Court as it is. I can make all of the pro-reform, good government arguments under the sun, and the Republicans will ignore them because, again, they're winning right now.

But if you put forward a bill to add 20 seats, the Republican incentives possibly change: obstruct, and the Democrats push through court expansion on their own, and add 20 Justices of their own choosing, and you end up with people like, well, like me on the court. Or Mitch McConnell could release Senators to vote for the plan, and Republicans can share in the bounty.

It puts a different kind of question to McConnell: Join, get nine conservative Justices and keep a 15-14 conservative majority on the court, or Obstruct, and create a 23 to six liberal majority on the court, and trust that Republicans will take over the House, Senate, and White House so they can add 20 of their own Justices in the future.

Note that McConnell will have to run that whole table while overcoming a super liberal Supreme Court that restores the Voting Rights Act and strikes down Republican gerrymanders. Good luck, Mitch.

My plan wins either way.

Either we get a 29 person court that is more moderate, we get a 29 person court that is uber liberal, or McConnell does run the table and we end up with a 49 person court or a 69 person court. And while Republicans are in control of that bloated body, everybody understands that the Court is just a political branch there to rubber-stamp the acts of the President who appointed them.

Perhaps then, voters would start voting based on who they want to be in control of that court, instead of who they want to have a beer with.

The court is either fixed, or neutered.

It's a win-win.

I know 20 is a big number. I know we've all been institutionalized to believe that incremental change is the only change possible. And I know it sounds fanciful to ask for 20 when the starting offer from the establishment of the Democratic Party, the Republican Party, and President Joe Biden, is zero.

But like a doctor with poor bedside manner, I'm less interested in people's feelings and more interested in fixing the problem.

If you give me two Justices or four Justices, I can reverse a number of conservative policies that they've shoved through a Supreme Court that has already been illegitimately packed with Republican appointees. If you give me a few Justices, I can reestablish a center-left, pro-democracy majority… at least until those new Justices die at the wrong time, under the wrong president.

But if you give me 20 Justices, I can fix the whole fucking thing.

—ELIE MYSTAL, In Contempt of Court

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

https://www.tumblr.com/raven-at-the-writing-desk/765084948516503552/maybe-we-simply-underestimate-how-difficult-and?source=share if i'm not mistaken Jamil idk in what book i think 5 mentions smth about how different his and Jade UM are, but on my opinion imagine this irl if someone tells you to jump you'll probably do so bc in your perspective is smth easy but if someone tells you to give them the most honest true or a piece of your mind you will filter it or even lie some people spoil it and say something they're truly thinking yeah? after that they're usually more careful around the person that made them spoil those thoughts which is how Jade's UM probably works he doesn't like telling you his UM bc if you knew this random person is smooth and makes you feel safe enough to tell them a piece of your thoughts even when you know they're dangerous as hell you will be wary you will try to held your thoughts tight to you

[Referencing this post and this post!]

Aaaaah, you’re talking about 6-60! The way Jamil describes it, his UM, Snake Whisper I refuse to call is Snake Charmer allows him to “control […] a target’s will.” Jade’s UM, Shock the Heart, differs in that is useful for “[extracting] very specific information from a target.” They’re both magic that manipulates the mind, but specialize in different aspects of it.

I think an issue with comparing the jumping to confessing is that jumping is a very limited example of what Jamil’s magic can do (whereas a confession covers a large span of information). Jamil has a LOT more range than that, and seemingly no limits imposed on him. He even suggests that he could achieve the same results as Jade if he uses Snake Whisper or gives orders in a certain way. So… Jamil’s UM still comes off as purely better than Jade’s. It can just be so much more.

How far could Jamil take his commands? I feel like there should be a ceiling to what Jamil is able to get others to do if there’s limits to what Jade can make people confess. Like, what if something really strongly goes against someone’s moral compass??? Is Jamil still able to order his victims to like… go to ANY extreme if he wanted?? Including murder?? Surely at some point the target’s will would kick in and push back against Jamil’s control??? And how is Jamil able to get the subjects under his thumb again after they’re already cognizant of his UM? Shouldn’t they be able to better resist him…? But no, apparently his UM hurts them if they put up a fight?? Again, this is something Jade lacks. I feel like Twst should have just said “it’s harder for them both to successfully recast their UM on the same people after one use”; this would make sense (because targets would be more wary of making eye contact with them) while better equalizing the two spells. You would be equally as unlikely to trust someone who makes you speak the truth to them as much as you are someone who makes you act as they command.

The other thing is, I think we’re assuming a lot of energy and effort is put into retrieving information (which may very well be true!), but we’re also assuming that forcing others to act a certain way is less demanding of energy and effort. I feel like that isn’t the case at all. Yes, finding secrets in your memories, filtering them, and sharing takes considerable executive function to achieve—but so does planning movement and behaviors, then executing them. Your brain and muscles have to coordinate to figure out what you’re going to do and say… as well as what to NOT do and NOT say. This, too, is also filtering and refining, and it’s just as complicated as the systems involved in Jade fishing for the truth.

Lastly, I also feel like sharing usually hidden details isn’t an absolute; it could be dependent on the circumstances such as emotional state. For example, if you’re charged on anger or sadness, you may be more loose-lipped than you would be at a neutral state.

Those are my thoughts, anyway ^^ Very interesting stuff, I can’t believe we actually haven’t talked that deeply about this topic until very recently (ie this month)!

[deripmaver]

Did Kentaro Miura Confirm Casca "Enjoyed It"?!?!?!

LOL another day another weird google translate from kojion causing a stir in the Berserk fandom. Explicit discussion of rape and feeling physical pleasure during rape to follow, be careful if that's not something you can read!

While at first everyone was furious and demanding a source, and rightly so, someone posted the magazine this interview came from:

I have absolutely no japanese language skills at all, so I have no idea how much this translation matches up with kojion's post. I did a bit more digging and found a second English translation, which I've helpfully flipped horizontal so you don't have to crane your necks like I did LOL:

To be clear, the specific phrasing of Casca experiencing pleasure, and reaching "ecstasy" (I'm assuming that means orgasm) are FROM THE FEMALE ARTICLE WRITER. She is saying that to HER it's clear that Casca is experiencing pleasure and reaching orgasm.

The response from Miura is a lot harder to parse, in my opinion. Per the writer, he responds, "Even without the God Hand, Casca thought she would feel pleasure if the person being raped was Griffith" (kojion, I think this is supposed to say something like "she would feel pleasure if the person she was being raped by was Griffith") or "Even if we didn't mention the God Hand, I thought Casca would feel that way (ie from the previous paragraph, that the rape would feel good) if the other person was Griffith."

I suppose I have two sets of thoughts about this, the first set being that I really don't think this is the smoking gun of "Miura says Casca liked being raped!" that people are interpreting it as. It's very possible that Miura is only referring to physical feelings of pleasure and orgasm during rape and not actually enjoying it in like... a NTR hentai kind of way LOL. The question really is whether Kentaro Miura in 1996 had the nuanced perspective on sexual violence to say that sometimes during rape the victim feels an unwanted pleasure response, but that doesn't negate the traumatic psychological effects of it, and in some ways that unwanted arousal can create its own host of traumatic psychological effects. It's possible imo, but I can't say for sure. Either way, simply having your main character experience orgasm during rape isn't in and of itself a bad thing to do (Diana Gabaldon did it too, in Outlander), it's more about the intention behind it.

What I CAN say for sure is that everything about Casca's character during and after the eclipse is meant to indicate that the rape was mind-breakingly traumatic for her. From how she tells Guts not to watch, to of course how she completely regresses into this infantile state, to her reaction to seeing Griffith on the Hill of Swords being panic and terror, I really don't see any argument within canon for the idea that she "enjoyed" the rape beyond possibly being physically aroused, which I've already discussed.

The second set of thoughts I have are basically: this article is from 1996. It was published twenty seven years ago. In a much more recent article from 2019, Miura had this to say on the topic of sexual assault in Berserk:

Though this again isn't the smoking gun of "Miura regrets the sexual violence in early Berserk" people make it out to be, it's very clear his perspective has grown and changed as he got older. I think, in order to understand Miura's thoughts about Casca's rape at the time of his death, it makes much more sense to look at his words about the corridor of dreams chapters, and the chapters themselves. At some point in between 1996 and 2019 he clearly came to the conclusion that specifically being raped by Griffith was what caused her to shatter mentally, so honestly... Even if you take the least charitable interpretation of the quote from 1996, I think you have to acknowledge that he clearly doesn't feel that way now. Or, didn't. Like, in ~2019, this is how wrote Casca having PTSD:

I also want to include this quote from kojion's account about how Miura reacted after the eclipse:

There are a bunch of other quotes of Miura feeling depressed after the eclipse, I was gonna find more but I forgot kojion has a habit of posting the most explicit eclipse panels uncensored on his twitter and I'm not gonna wade through those for them. Either way, I just don't think there's much to support the idea that the eclipse was supposed to be anything BUT horrible and traumatic.

Anyways, tl;dr, Miura doesn't ever say "Casca enjoyed being raped," that's from the interviewer. He could very well be referring to an unwanted arousal response. And even if he wasn't and did really mean she was kind of into it, though I don't think this is supported by canon, he clearly has grown a lot since this was published twenty seven years ago.

[antigonick]

just stumbled into one of your snippets and i'm OBSESSED with your writing style. it is so fluid and punchy and such a delight to read. if you ever feel like answering, how does your writing process works? what are your inspirations, style and tone-wise? and what themes do you enjoy exploring the most?

have a lovely day! 💌

Oh, that's... WELL. That's! The best compliment you could have sent me, thank you so much, I don't know what to say.. I'm actually trying to write a... I'm gonna call it a novel when it's just a mess of fragments right now, but—yeah. Fluid and punchy is exactly what I strive to achieve with the character's voice so this is so nice to hear. WHATEVER. THANK YOU.

Anyway! My writing process is really... steeped in rhythm, I guess? It starts with character writing, which leads me to character voice, which leads me to finding the right "mind" tempo, and from it cascades the headspace I need to write. In that, in the idea of perspective and voice influencing the story first, I'm indebted to Faulkner, to Marlon James, to Woolf's The Waves, to Shirley Jackson—to the perspectivism twists of horror and gothic writing as a general rule. Rereading her, I think Emily Brontë has shaped my metaphorical network very early on, and my handling of violence, especially in dialogue—though more recently, Tamsyn Muir made me tick about dialogue too. Malin Rydén is one of my utmost inspirations, not a little because the main character of my story was first created for his story, but also because he was my gateway into harder, grittier speculative fiction and digital literature, which both inspire me now for the story I'm trying to shape—horror out of the gothic castle and into the terrible anticipation of what comes next, with more politics, with ghosts and body horror twisted to technology. In terms of pure form, I'm extremely impacted by poetry—E. E. Cummings, Alice Oswald, Emily Dickinson—those who deconstruct syntax to wrangle it into breath. He didn't influence me because I discovered him too late, but I feel a kinship to some of the early stylistic experimentations of Frank Bidart too. Hanif Abdurraqib, whose first name I gave to one of my main characters too because his voice is incredible: it moves. Charles Olson's Projective Verse gestures at what I feel when I write, you know? "ONE PERCEPTION MUST IMMEDIATELY AND DIRECTLY LEAD TO A FURTHER PERCEPTION (…). Always one perception must must must MOVE, INSTANTER, ON ANOTHER! (…)" and then "Breath allows all the speech-force of language back in." Even silence can be your story-weapon.

I'm interested in... blowing apart labels, dichotomies, I think, making them harder to grapple with—right and wrong, love and hate, personal and universal; transgressions, fluidity; how language fails, how language betrays; the way human connection can both fuck you and raise you up, in its constant failure and constant trying, in the violence of intimacy, in the tension between hardness and vulnerability—more than anything, I'm interested in the way individual desires clash with collective needs or personal ideals, in the lies and justifications you can find for yourself, in what it means for you when you come to dismantle them (or refuse to). I love palimpsest, stories retold again and again, and/or I love difficult, ugly settings, speculative and dystopia topics, I want the story to be political in itself, even when it's not politicking; and I LOVE mindfucks: using our terribly faulty, terribly subjective perception / perspective / memory / dreams / FEARS / intellect to tell a story that is both fascinating because it's unique, and trapped by it. Can't escape yourself. What are you gonna do with yourself (against yourself, for yourself) now?

Formally, I try to use that in writing: trapping the reader in one voice that swallows them really, ideally that jostles them a little, that blurs the boundary between them and the character: extreme immersion. I like to try and convey emotion / impression and even action as it is experienced, rather than explaining it clearly. In that phenomenology has influenced me, I guess? Deleuze, Guattari, Merleau-Ponty, and poetry again, I guess. Archibald McLeish says "a poem should not mean / but be...", and that's what I try to do with the character I choose, and then I let them be, and they drive both the story and the writing that should echo it—form and content cycling each other like mirrors.

Goddamnit, that got so long. Anyway. THANK YOU for being interested, I'm really touched.

[forbiddentaako]

Ghostfuckers spoilers ahoy, I have more rambly thoughts like with the Apology Tour post

Forget Stolitz and Blitzo's depression era for a second I need to talk about Blitzo and Millie's friendship bc I'm actually so feral about them its not even funny!!!! Like congrats to Helluva for getting me to care about stolitz and all but hitting me with a best friendship that was deeply important was diabolical and Im gonna get unhinged about their friendship in the same way people are unhinged about stolitz.

Like Millie and Blitzo being close friends didn't come out of nowhere to me because its very clear they are close from their other interactions in other episodes, but a lot of those involved the group dynamic being the focus, so it was really nice getting a look at what Blitzo and millie are like between just the two of them. And like the biggest moments are obviously the 2 conversations they have and the implications of said conversations, but also just the dynamic they have is really cute??? And overall narratively how Blitz and millie's relationship matters so much especially at this point in the story makes me want to bite things the longer I think about it.

With the first convo they have after Blitzo is having a hallucination induced breakdown the sticking point for me was Millie explicitly telling him her life is better with him in it, because first of all I don't think blitzo really ever hears that explicitly even from those he is close with, which must hit even harder at the moment with Blitzo feeling like he makes everyone around him worse without fail. And the fact that this comes after the 'what ifs' of how millie could have died in ways that would have technically been because of him-outcomes in which Blitzo's involvement in her life *did* actively make it worse-feeding into Blitzo's insecurities but simultaneously showing the audience that this is not an objective truth, something that millie reinforced verbally to Blitzo in their conversation?? I just think it was really well done.

Also with Millie it wasn't just that him being a part of her life makes it better, but the things that Millie points to as reasoning are just who Blitz is s a person and are aspects of himself that he doesn't even think about or realize have any affect on others, let alone a positive one. The fact that these are subconscious traits help to catch Blitzo off guard and force him to question his previously held beliefs about how he affects people because every other action we see him fixate on is something he has thought about or is aware of whereas he had never even considered this. They also force Blitzo to acknowledge that he does have good traits and is in fact a complicated person rather than an unequivocally bad one, an important step in actually breaking his cycles.

One thing that stuck out to me so much in this episode too was that Blitzo and Millie have excellent chemistry, which makes their relationship feel very organic and helps us as the audience being able to understand why the episode plays out the way it does.

Blitzo is not actively engaged in his friendship with millie in the same way he is with his other relationships, and thus its harder to pick up on the effects he's having, which in turn makes it much easier for his preconceived notions to be challenged than with a relationship like him and stolas (more on that later if I decide to make another post about it). It's very similar with Millie's side as well in terms of not having to actively engage, and thus its very easy to reassure blitzo the way she does in the episode, because again, it's not a conscious effort to try and make him feel better, it's just her telling the truth from her perspective. Which not only makes their friendship feel so natural but also makes it so much harder for Blitzo to deny what she is telling him, because even if he doesn't want to believe it due to his self hatred he still trusts she's being honest. And the fact that Millie is someone he trusts like this!!! That this is just a part of their relationship!!! Matters so much to me!!

While in most of his relationships the work Blitzo puts in to analyze them would rely on trying to convince himself that he *isn't* a piece of shit, with Millie he would have to work to convince himself that he *is* one, and this shift mentally is gonna force him to re-evaluate what he holds as an unequivocal truth about himself and his relationships. Because he cannot hold onto the idea that he unconsciously ruins those around him when him and millie's relationship exists as it does with him unconsciously improving her life.

The second conversation also showed what I was hoping for coming off of apology tour with Blitzo genuinely wanting to make a change in his relationships with those in his life, and in some ways actually starting to. Ghostfuckers made things pretty clear that Blitzo's deeply rooted insecurities and self hatred are part of the reason he's stuck in these self destructive cycles and why he views his role in his relationships in such a negative light, but his friendship with Millie is the first step in him feeling comfortable enough in the thought that he is even capable of doing good and becoming better to start to correct his thinking. And this is shown at least subtly in the episode with the heart to heart they have at the end of it!

I really hope that going forward Blitzo is going to be leaning more heavily onto this relationship with Millie not only because I love them but also because it is the only relationship in his life currently that he perceives as stable, and the only one where he has been reassured that his presence is wanted and positive. It's very possible that because he hasn't dealt with his deeper issues yet he views his friendship with Millie as just an exception to his beliefs, but its still so important that he now has to acknowledge there are exceptions that he had never considered. Thus to some extent he has to grapple with the fact that he is not viewing himself objectively, and that can be a turning point into improvement because he can no longer belief that the way he is is simply beyond help.

Basically I liked apology tour forcing Blitzo to rock bottom, to have to confront his flaws and face the people he's hurt, and to understand why he needs to change because he can't keep living like this. But I liked Ghostfuckers because it forced Blitzo to acknowledge that he *can* be a better person, that things are more complicated than he was willing to acknowledge, and that he isn't a lost cause because if he dwells on the hopelessness he *still* won't ever be able to change.

Basically I can't believe the show about Blitzo's relationships with others is getting me attached to blitzo's relationships with others, and the fact that a pivotal relationship to both him as a character and his narrative arc is a platonic relationship means the world to me actually.

[4me2knowandyou2wonder]

As a fandom we have come to the conclusion that Graves has mommy issues. This got me thinking… So hi i'm here to talk about some of the southern parenting I’ve seen in the form of Graves’ mother head canons. Welcome!! (or at least I tried to do that jury is still out lol)

This post is dedicated to @captain-mj ! and is based on This poll where, we can all agree, the answer is Graves! LMAO

now, onto Mrs. Graves:

Phil's Mother is seen in her community as a kind and strong willed woman. People might describe her as ‘a joy to talk to,’ ‘always ready to offer a helping hand,’ and ‘a strong leader’ but there are also people in her community that refuse to describe her at all. ‘Oh do you know Mrs. Graves?’ these people may be asked. ‘We're not close,’ these people will reply, letting their tone carry the end of a topic.

This is because, to those who meet her in passing, she’s a wide smile, a southern drawl and sugary attitude—What they don’t see is this is all done because she is using kindness and charisma to craft a careful social narrative that is designed to keep criticism at bay, and people complacent. (Have you ever noticed that humans are more willing to let people who we consider ‘good’ get away with hurting others?) Mrs. Graves cannot handle anyone challenging her authority, and she is constantly fighting to make sure no one may question her.  

To those who spend more time with her, her personality becomes much more clear. She’s the woman who won’t hesitate to tell the farm hand what they’d done so wrong, the woman who will demand hard work and harder hours, the woman who is seemingly blind to the struggles of anyone who she deems under her. (Which is everyone except the people who will grant her social power btw.) 

Those who are unlucky enough to get closer to her have seen even more of the cracks in her mask. Mrs. Graves holds her power over the others heads, she will claim she deserves privileges beyond a reasonable expectation, she often uses the lord’s word as justification for unjustified opinions, and (in some cheap version of making herself look Better) Mrs. Graves complains about those she deems ‘under her social level’ to ‘peers.’

The largest crack in that ceramic smile, however—the one that reveals the raw flesh beneath—is how she treats her son. 

Her “mini me.”

Mrs. Graves enacted strict control over all activities Phil did. Privacy was a luxury not a right, and it was a luxury he didn’t have. “You shouldn’t have anything to hide,” was a common phrase uttered. Phil had limited and monitored access to any ideas outside of the christian ideals his mother wanted for him. Phil went to christian school, and any friends he was allowed to hang out with outside school hours were either from his church or approved by his mother. Phil didn’t fight this. He was a kid, this was his mother. She said she knew what was right for him, so she knew what was right for him. He liked it when his mother thought of him as a good son and letting her approve of all his friends would make her think that. 

Mrs. Graves used her husband’s authority for her own gain, using the “man of the house” as a tool to inflict her will. Mr. Graves’ parents did have a hand in his matrimony :/. They found him a nice christian woman for their good (read: bitter and emotionally closed) christian son. Mr. Graves shares the same perspective of gender roles as his wife… 

Actually I need to stop talking about Phil’s father, this is a post about mommy issues. 

Point is, if Phil did something wrong in Mrs. Graves eyes she would threaten Phil with his father’s wrath. And if Phil did something wrong in his father’s eyes his father would rage on his own. Phil hated disappointing his mother, but he feared making his father mad.

-

Phil’s mother of course forced him into community activities as much as she could, church groups, 4H, anything that had a community where her boy could make her look good. She would make him participate and do the best work he could even if he hated it, he had to win every paper boat race, every mini science fair. Sometimes she would do the work for him to make sure it was done ‘right.’ Mrs. Graves would berate Phil if he ever did anything that might make her look like a “bad parent” (Like losing the boat race … Ma’am please…)

Mrs. Graves also believes emotions are a weakness especially from women and believes emotions are simply not allowed for men either. Any Big feelings Phil showed as a kid were frowned upon and chastised. He was made to feel pathetic for fear, sadness, and even anger.

Mrs. Graves is unafraid to use humiliation to punish her son, she will happily drag him aside and chew him out in front of his friends. Sometimes it's a show for Mrs. Graves' friends, other times no one is around and she is just angry at something he did. 

As an example of how Mrs. Graves handled parenting, A kid on the playground once shoved Phil to the ground and stole the toy dino he was playing with. Phil wanted to cry, but “Buck up” was one of his mother’s favorite phrases, and Phil hated to be told to Buck Up so instead he got angry. He rips the dino out of the other kid's hand and yells at the other kid that he hates them. I’ll spare you a whole play by play about what happened and give you the footnotes:

-Phil gets his toy back, but his anger didn’t go unnoticed by his mother

-His mother realizes that the other Kid’s mother has now seen Phil act up and can’t handle the perceived judgment.

-everything Phil does she takes as a direct reflection on HER so she is blinded by this hit to her ego

-she now must prove to the other mother that she is a Good Mom who has her kid Under Control

-She yells at Phil, grabs his ear, forces him to apologize and gives the dino back to the other kid (it's Phil’s toy) she tells him they’re going home.

-the other kid has realized their own mistake and quietly gives Phil back his toy. 

-Mrs. Graves doesn’t realize Phil has the dino back until they’re in the car.

-She grabs the dino, breaks it and throws it out the car window

wow… That hurt to write

Anyway~

It wasn’t always bad, When Phil did something good he was showered in praise and affection. If he was cute for a picture, If he complimented his mother in front of her friends, or won a school competition (remember this reflects well on her), that's when life was good. She’d get all sweet, maybe they’d get ice cream later, or maybe she’d even tell him that she loves him.

I hope you’re picking up what I'm putting down: that Love was inherently conditional for Phil. 

But you see, Phil has known no other type. He never knew unconditional love, this was just how life was. As long as he worshiped his mother, sung her praises, was successful, was good and listened to what she asked, he was loved. As a long-term consequence of this Phil is always looking for praise and reassurance, he has deep rooted self worth issues that he can’t see.

-

Phil’s mom has always been described to him as powerful, a woman to respect, (no one is going to insult someone's mother to their face. Though they probably should have, because now…) Phil has internalized these ideas, and he can’t see how flawed his mother truly is. Phil has idolized his mother, becoming blind to her faults in some twisted compensation for all the pain she has caused him. (Phil is the type of person to say “sometimes I just needed a good slap” and MEAN IT.)

His worship of his mother was of course more extreme when he was a naive child. So during his tween and teen years when he was a bit more of his own person ‘all the sudden’ a rift definitely started to develop between him and his mother. 

Phil’s mother has always made jokes about never wanting Phil to grow up, never wanting him to stop being her little boy. Once he was grown they just shifted to wishing he never had. Sometimes when she’s feeling affectionate towards her son, (normally after being particularly doted on by her adult child,) she’ll say ‘You’ll always be a little kid to me.’ Phil thinks its praise, thinks its love. He can’t see how toxic the narrative is. She’s expressing love for the young kid who worshiped her, and denouncing the teen or adult that is his own person in front of her. ‘I wish you were still that little kid, I wish you’d never gotten bigger.’ These are words that hurt, but cut in a way that isn’t felt on the surface. 

(sorry, the timeline ran away from me. We’re going back to roughly Phil’s teen years again, weeee!)  

Speaking of hurt that isn’t felt on the surface! While corporal punishment wasn’t uncommon in the Graves’ household, 

(sometimes in the classical sense when he was younger, but also as a teen in the sense of off-handed corporal corrections, like the quick hards knocks over the head if he talks back, the swift yank of taking something from his hands, and kick in the shin under the table if he talked too much to guests about something that interested him.)

There was also an undercurrent of causal aggressive physicality that Graves hasn’t identified as abusive to this day, because, well, these family interactions that were always spoken of positively. Why should reality be any different? These are all just loving family play? Right? 

The dig of nails into his side to jumpscare him around the kitchen counter, (only to be laughed out when he yelped). The trick that got him to picking up something hot when he should’ve ‘known better.’ The throw his favorite canned cranberry sauce into his shoulder hard, as a ‘gift’ 

Graves got mad at that one at first, telling his mother to not throw hard cans at him, as duh, it hurt?? She chewed him out for 15 minutes about how she’d done something nice and gotten him something he liked and his ungrateful ass was so selfish that he couldn’t even say thank you“Th-”“Do not interrupt me!”

She ‘didn’t hurt him’ and ‘he was being dramatic,’ ‘a real man could handle a light hit to the shoulder!’ 

Graves tried to show her the already forming bruise. She offered to give him a real one. 

That was her joking with him… right?

These are the interactions that Phil would never see as trauma inducing. These are positive memories starring playful family rough housing. 

He doesn’t give a second thought to why he remembers each one vividly. 

-

Okay, almost done!! Adult years! 

Once he was 18, Phil left to join the army and Serve His Country as the Good American he was, but even out from under her rein Mrs. Graves’ influence can be felt. 

Mrs. Graves always demanded respect, and like a good southern boy, Phil has always given it to her. Even now as an adult Phil loves his mother and tells everyone he couldn’t ask for a better mom. (He really could…) He has disregarded his own emotional well being in a desperate attempt to be a good son, and can’t even see it.

I mean, of course he did. Taking care of his mental well-being was frowned upon. If he wasn’t pushing himself to perform for his mother he wasn’t being a good son. But now the last time Graves cried was at 15 years old, and he’ll need to do a lot of healing before he’s able to again.

When he visits his mother she without fail tells him he doesn’t come home enough. All mothers think their kids should come home more, but Mrs. Graves makes it sound like a personal affront. When he’s home the light bullying hasn’t stopped. He can’t do much without being chastised. Even when he does something she can’t criticize like taking care of himself she can often find a way to make a remark. (like putting on sunscreen? ‘Scared of a little son, don’t want a thick skin?’)

[allastoredeer]

hi!! I just wanted to share with someone else that I have decided to start identifying as asexual, in fact a lot of the discourse around Alastor and having so many aroace perspectives helped

For years I thought I just hadn't felt it, that special spark and I was made to believe that demisexual was something separate from asexual (and that it is more acceptable to be at that place on the scale) because asexual=without sex which I thought is what it was, I just needed the right person because I couldn't be asexual when I have such a high libido and I'm pretty good with masturbation. And then I was introduced to the concept of high-libido asexuals and the whole scale and midtones and it was like something clicked. Yes, yes, that's my experience and oh, I'm not alone, there's something wrong with me.

And I'm crying a little now and I don't know how I feel about telling my family who for years have been worried because "I'm alone" and "it's a shame you're so pretty." but I feel more comfortable starting to look for information and I no longer feel like I'm about to have panic attacks when the topic comes up because even if I don't say it I know I'm asexual and there's something comforting about that.

I'm still trying to figure out if I'm aro or not and if I experience romance and sex separately, but I feel better and more comfortable and it's all thanks to a fictional character and all the people who care about him and have spoken about their own identities.

Just, thank you ❤️

That is so amazing, Anon ಥ◡ಥ I'm so happy for you! Seriously, I'm just (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) it really goes to show that talking about sexuality and people's differing experiences is so so crucial (and why all the people who keep acting like asexual=no sex need to STOP. It makes it so much harder for people who are exploring asexuality--whether they're ace or not--and it gives people the wrong idea of what being ace is. And it's just flat out incorrect, so there's that too).

I feel you about the family situation too. I grew up in a family that is very much a get-married-as-quickly-as-possible and a being-single-as-an-adult-for-a-long-time-is-weird type situation. I'm currently the oldest of my parents children who isn't married yet, which is so much fun to talk about in large family gatherings 🙄

I've told a few of my siblings and friends about my sexuality, but I haven't told a majority of my family. I'm not sweating it too much, no one is obligated to officially "come out," after all, especially if they don't feel comfortable doing so. We're allowed to just be.

Like you said, there's comfort in just knowing.

If you do tell your fam, I hope they're open and accepting! And I'm so happy you're feeling more comfortable about yourself too. Your ask is so uplifting, my heart feels 10x lighter T.T

It's amazing how much of an impact a beloved character can have, and all the ways people can relate with them and each other. Alastor and his sexuality means so much to me, and I'm so happy to have found a community of people who feel the same 🥹

Welcome, fellow ace! 💜🤍🖤 We're so happy to have you!

[pesky--dust]

I feel like it's harder for me to express my thoughts lately, but I've been thinking a lot about Beverly Katz and I cannot stand being alone with my thoughts anymore, so I’m sorry. 

When Will was in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Beverly was one of the few people who visited him there. She needed his help at work, but at the same time, we know that even before, without any hidden motives, she genuinely cared about his life. We also know she's the oldest child in the family. It is very common for the oldest children to feel responsible for their younger siblings.

I believe she feels the same sense of responsibility towards Will, like if he is her younger brother, which is why she tries to be there for him when he needs comfort. 

Beverly is in a few episodes, but I won’t write about every single of them. I'm going to focus on the things that support my thesis about her perceiving Will as her younger sibling.

In Amuse Bouche she asks him about his well-being, tries to joke with him (he had just killed a man, to protect an innocent person and himself!), teaches him how to hold a gun properly. 

In Coquilles she again shows concern about his condition and I have the impression that in this dialogue she speaks to him like to a child she doesn’t want to frighten:

In Buffet froid there is a lot of interactions between them. First, when panicked Will races out into the hallway, she stares at him and asks with a hint of concern “Will?”. When Will tries to reassure himself he didn’t kill Beth LeBeau, he calls Beverly and when she hears he called her,  because he is not entirely sure what he saw was real, the script says “That admission almost breaks her heart, but it doesn't show.”. She tells him that he is the subject of a lot of speculation at the bureau, since people speculating that Jack pushed him right up to the edge and now he is pushing himself over. Later in the same episode she checks Will for evidence that would tell he killed Dr. Sutcliffe and reassures him that there's nothing that would indicate he is the person responsible for killing Dr. Sutcliffe.

When Will is arrested for evidence suggesting he killed Abigail Hobbs, Beverly is unable to maintain complete professionalism and talks to him while collecting evidence from his body. She tells him she didn't want to find anything on him, but since Will always says he's interpreting evidence, he should do it now. She is angry, disappointed and she says, “You should have recused yourself from any investigation. (...) However far over the edge you were leaning, I was hoping that you wouldn’t fall.”

As I have written already — when Will is in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Beverly is one of the few people who visits him there. They make a deal — he helps her with work, she tries to prove he is innocent and she is going to check Hannibal Lecter. We know how it ends for her — Hannibal kills her and Will is needed to resolve this case. Here is a piece of the script from this scene:

Later Will tries to kill Hannibal Lecter by proxy, because he is mad about everything Hannibal caused in his life; he knew about Will’s encephalitis, framed him for his crimes, killed Abigail Hobbs and Beverly, Will's only friend. 

However it turns out Will has to change tactic and he ends up falling in love with Hannibal, they are known as murder husbands! On the one hand, I imagine that because of that Beverly has to turn in her grave because she died trying to prove that Hannibal was guilty of crimes Will was accused of, and on the other hand, Will and Beverly really liked each other, and in my opinion, Beverly felt like his older sister, so I feel torn because I think she would, to some extent, enjoy Will's happiness anyway. One way or another, man, this whole situation is sick, especially if you look at it from Beverly's perspective.

[lightlycareless]

I dont know if im doing this right or where im supposed to send this but ✨ lol

just want some smut from naoya' s perspective bahaha 🙃

Heya anon!

Sorry I took a while to respond, I'm still not used to writing smut so it's harder for me to write it. Nonetheless, I hope you're able to enjoy what I've prepared 😈 I'm so not used to writing Naoya's perspective, I feel like he can be very... difficult to write lol He's very very mean.

Anyways, this takes part during their honeymoon (referring to this fic here hehe to my non-followers) an example of what was going on when they were away for the rest of the world.

I must say that it's not nice, it's straight up non-con explicit content. So minors, please do not interact.

Now, without further ado.... happy (as much as you can I guess lol) reading!

“What are you doing standing all the way over there, my love?” Naoya would say upon noticing your figure just by the corner of his eye, stopping his training set just to acknowledge you.

A smile parts his lips at the peculiar sight of you just standing there, silently staring at him with those big round eyes of yours he always loved to stare at, and finding it a bit humorous how you were all the way to other side of the training grounds, appearing  shy to be in his presence—adorable really, as if the two hadn’t done more than enough at that point to remove all… formalities.

It doesn’t take much to put Naoya right in the mood, and your unwitting gestures would be the perfect example.

“C’mere” he orders, but even then, you don’t respond, continuing to look at him in complete silence, and perhaps… reproach?

A sentiment that Naoya catches all too quickly, pausing his amusement and replacing it with irritation.

“I said—come here.”

Your husband never liked being rough with you, outside of bed that is. It was undeserving of the one he considered to be the love of his life; but his family did well in telling him that a woman of your background needed to be heavily worked on if she was to become of his standards.

He can’t be too disappointed though, for while there was still a bit of resistance on your side, after he was done with you the first night, you’ve become much more compliant to his requests.

Just like this one, which as soon as he enunciated those words, Naoya would find you making your way to him, stopping just a few inches away—quickly closed when he decides to grasp you by the arm, swiftly pull you into his chest, and encase you with his arms.

Beaming for the closeness of his wife, a wide grin appears on his lips as he now glances down to you, hoping to get a better look of that cute face he adores—but when he notices that your gaze is anywhere but on his, his frustration returns, quickly remediated by moving his hand up to your face, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you back to him.

“Why are you so shy out of the sudden? It’s not like I bite or something.” He frowns, before chuckling. “Not that hard anyways.”

You don’t respond, rarely do as a matter of fact, but he doesn’t mind, not when he just wants to hear the sound of his voice alongside your occasional agreements.

“I missed you today, you know?” he murmurs, resting his hands just below your waist. “It’s unbearable when you’re not around—why can’t you just stay here?”

Silence. Naoya sighs. Maybe he did want a bit more than just a nod for this occasion.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he says.

You swallow.

“No” you quietly respond “Obviously not…”

“Then answer, princess. You make me feel like I’m interrogating you, you know?” He likes the chase, but now that the two are married, is there anything else to chase?

“I didn’t want to… bother you” you whisper. “You seemed busy.”

“Is that so?” He grins, undeniably pleased by your supposed consideration, ignorant to the fact that you were actually trying to look for a way to contact your family during your 2-week stay at his family ryokan, solely returning when one of the staff members blatantly lied at your face by saying that the phone was unavailable (after she used it) and rapidly redirected you back to your husband’s location.

Naoya would later hear about this but would fail to play out the appropriate consequences due to his preference of indulging in the vast, seemingly interrupted time he’d have with his wife—any wrongdoings could be dealt with back at the estate.

This was his honeymoon, after all.

“How sweet” Naoya says, pulling you impossibly closer to him—you whine at the harshness of his movement and the unwanted closeness, placing your hands over his chest in hopes to push him away, but his strength keeps you where he wants before leaning down to peck your lips. “My adorable wife looking out for me! What a lucky man I am.”

Naoya means half of those words, perhaps even lesser, given they were made in the same venomous, demeaning manner he always spoke to you. Truly, this marriage was only made with the benefit of one in mind.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not upset by your absence” he says, his hands trailing down even further, making you flinch when he stops by your ass, harshly gripping it. “How are you going to make it up to me, hm?”

Is a question that wasn’t intended to be answered, or more like you didn’t have the opportunity to do so, for he already made up his mind and was only being nice.

“Strip”

“He—here?” you breathe, frightened eyes looking up to him. Naoya notes how you don’t question his actions anymore, just the timing if anything, and this advancement makes his cock stir—truly, you’re slowly being tamed into the perfect wife. “But—but someone is going to see—"

One he just can’t wait to devour.

“It’s not like they haven’t heard us before” Naoya responds, God knows the many, many times he’s bumped into flustered servants after being done with you, clearly embarrassed for overhearing the way he ravaged you.

Doesn’t mean he’ll want them to see you like that, but he won’t deny that the thought of it did something to him, or how you can’t do anything to stop him.

Naoya insists one last time.

“Strip” And in a trembling manner, you quickly begin to undo your obi, the layers of your kimono subsequently to the ground and revealing your bare body to him, nothing underneath, just as he’d ordered you to be for easier access, even when it was cold—a sight that yet again, stir’s Naoya’s cock harder, a tent in his pants now protruding against you, desperate to seek release, instinctively rubbing it against you.

Naoya then accommodates you by turning you around, placing your back to his chest while one of his hands scurries to take a hold of one of your breasts, the other finding comfort in the hotness of your cunt.

“Na—Naoya—!” you whimper, struggling between stopping his incessant attack on your nipples, hardened and far more sensitive due to the cold weather, or the squelching sounds your pussy made as he fingered you as roughly and deeply as possible. “Naoya—st-stop!”

“Already this wet for me?” He teases as he curls his fingers inside you, making you release a louder and obscener moan from your lip, hold on his arms briefly hindering—sign that he’s found that one spot that always make you come undone, proud that he’d done so in record time; as expected from the many, many times he’s claimed you by now.

“Fuck—you just keep getting wetter and tighter—how’s that even possible?!” He laughs, finding great enjoyment in the way he’s struggling to move his fingers inside your cunt, to which you could only respond with a whimper, tightly closing your eyes and pressing your lips together to avoid releasing any more moans, failing when he attacks your sweet spot again. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?”

You attempt to shake your head in rejection, but when he graces it again, your mind goes blank, a hot jolt of pleasure washing over your body, unwittingly tightening against his fingers, making you grasp his arms for support, release soon approaching.

“I barely even touched you, and you’re already cumming?!” He says when noticing these all too familiar signs, pride filling him as he continues to tease your cunt. “I really am lucky…”

The way he begins to rut against your ass, as if seeking his own release, as well as continuously fingering your velvety walls makes you clench around his digits one last time—Naoya can feel your heartbeat quickening, your gasps becoming shorter and louder, and he just knows you’re almost there.

So, he continues moving his fingers, as quickly and roughly as possible, stretching your cunt as wide as possible before pushing them further and further, almost as if he were trying to see how far he could reach.

Your orgasm is hanging on a thread by now, the briefest of graces in your sweet spot and you’ll come undone, but it only happens when Naoya decides to toy with your clit, pressing his thumb against it and rubbing it in such painfully delicious way that finally has you cumming.

Naoya feels your walls twitching for a quick second before your orgasm finally comes clamping down on his fingers, your eyes rolling to the back, mouth falling agape, allowing moans to escape as you take in on the dizzying, numbing orgasm your husband has given you for the nth time that week. You hold onto his arms for a bit longer before going limp.

Luckily for you, Naoya was there to grab you, all whilst feeling the subtle clenches of your cunt, remnants of your sweet release. Your velvety walls milked his fingers in such a way that almost made him regret not shoving his cock instead.

However, he wouldn’t have to wait long for that, for once you eventually quieted down and overcame your orgasm, Naoya would take the next step—not without humiliating you, of course.

“Look at this!” he jested once removing his fingers from your insides, admiring the slick coating his fingers as if it were a delicacy. “It’s like you wanted them to drown or something—you vixen.”

You try your best to look away from the embarrassing sight before you, of the way they glistened against the light or how he’d play with it, as if testing it’s… texture.

It was disgusting, hot, and humiliating—but that would be nothing compared to what Naoya did next.

“And sweet too” he’d say, and then, plunges his fingers inside his mouth, savoring your flavor before grinning.

After Naoya considered you well teased, he decides to release your breast from his hold and grab your face once again to turn it towards him. It’s obvious what he wants now, given the way he licks his lips and slightly pouts, so knowing better than to fight him you move your face closer to his and kiss him.

It was always surprising to see Naoya capable of softness, tenderly moving his lips alongside yours as if he were afraid of hurting you, but of course, it wouldn’t take long before his greediness took a hold of him, tongue quickly fighting its way past your lips and into your mouth, where he’d roam as freely as he wanted, touching each and every single crevice inside, whilst giving you a combination of his taste and yours.

You instinctively winced out of disgust and the frightening way he continues to kiss you, it’s almost like he’d want to eat you alive.

Salvation only comes when air becomes scarce between the two, and with one last push, your hands finally manage to separate him from you.

It takes a moment for Naoya to come back to the present, given the way his groggy eyes (almost if drunk by your presence) stare through you, but once out of it, he kisses you one last time before continuing.

“Get on the floor” he says, placing his hands over your waist. “On four”

There’s no time for questioning, but even if you knew the arrangement between the two, you couldn’t help but protest.

“Naoya—”

“What is it now?” He rolls his eyes, tired of your seemingly incessant complaints, the two have done this thousands of times at this point, so what’s the issue now?

His aggressive response makes you quiet down for a bit, and he sees you hesitate for a bit, but he knows he doesn’t have anything to worry about, more so when the bane of your existence turned out to be something, well, silly in his own words.

“I don’t… want to get… dirty” you quietly add, and Naoya chuckles.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he smirks “We’re only going to get dirtier from here onwards, princess. You know that, right?”

Well, if he supposes it’s such a bother to have him fuck you on the ground… he guesses he can compromise.

“I know what we can do” Naoya says after quick thinking, a position he already had in mind for a while now. “Let me see… I have to do this first—”

He doesn’t even ask for permission before he’s already grasping your left leg, hand behind your knee, and lifting it just above his arm. It’s a position that exposes your intimacy completely, rightfully startling you and having you grab his shoulders for support.

“Naoya—!” You attempt to fight against his hold, end this humiliating position before anyone incidentally barges into the training grounds, but (un)fortunately for you, the moment the nearby staff knew you were there, steered clear of the premises. “N—no! Not like this!”

Naoya doesn’t care to react, per usual, not when he knows he’s just a few moments away from entering you, already aligning his cock to your soaked slit.

“Have to do this first” he says, as if you were asking for an explanation. Well, at least your husband had the decency to somewhat prepare you for what’s to come. “Hold me”

“Wha—”

“Hold me, unless you want to fall” he urges again, desperate to get inside your sticky walls and drown in pleasure. Any other moment he would’ve not cared and just moved on, but you’re not any other person, you’re his wife, and he cares enough for you to not get hurt…

But if you don’t act fast, he’ll just might skip that over too.

“Or not—I don’t really care.”

Not like you were given much choice, because the moment he rubs against your cunt, dampening his cock, for better entrance, and begins to press past your folds and inside, you instinctively wrap your arms around your shoulders, whining as he inches deeper and deeper into your cunt, until the head finally nestles just by your cervix.

Naoya hisses, savoring the tightness and warmth of your cunt for a moment, enough to sway him away from what he was supposed to do, but he quickly composes himself, snaking his other hand underneath your right thigh, and with unparallel swiftness, pulls your body up, making you hold him even tighter.

His heart skips a bit when finding your actions to be surprisingly adorable, cooing at the intimacy in such a way that would make any man marry you on the spot.

Luckily for him, you were already his.

“Hold on tight” he breathes against your ear, giving one last adjustment to his hold on you. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

And then, he promptly begins to jump you over his cock, roughly slamming your hips onto his as he now seeks that pleasure he could never abstain himself from.

It’s an addiction, the way your pussy grips his cock so, so tightly, how it always seems to milk it dry, makes him never want to leave. Never want to pull away, back into the cold and lonely closure of his pants, wanting to spend all day, every day, inside the comfort of your sticky walls, instead, dreaming of the moment he’d get to be by your side and do just that.

But he guesses he’ll do with what he has, making up for his disappointment by instead fucking you in any way and place possible, just as he’d been doing since arriving to the estate, having started by the bedroom, the bathroom, the dining hall, and now… the training grounds.

His mission will always be to make a mess of you every single time, and today will not be an exception, soon finding your sensitive spot and relentlessly attacking it once again, making you whimper whenever grazing it.

“You—you like that, don’t you” Naoya snicker, getting a better hold of your ass to continue harshly plunging you against him. The tip of his cock bruises your cunt in a way that only lets you moan in response, but he wants words this time. “Answer me, princess, do you—do you like that?”

“Hmmnnngh!! N—Nnn!!” you whimper, pressing your lips as tightly as possible to avoid responding, but one particularly harsh thrust has you opening your mouth wide, releasing an obnoxiously loud moan—and you swear you could feel him grow bigger. “N—no!”

“Don’t lie to me, slut” He chastised, marking his fingers on your skin in retaliation. “I can feel you tightly clenching on my cock—So, I’ll—I’ll ask you again”

It’s evident that he isn’t thinking of anything but the warmth of your walls and the blood rushing to his cock, seeking that thread of pleasure and how to get to it fast enough—and one of his favorite to-go thing for that is your voice letting him know how much of a mess he’s making out of you.

It’s like a reward for a job well done. Your squirms, whines, moans and babbles, all stirred something inside him that pushed him to want more, and more.

He damns the day he met you but doesn’t regret it at all.

“You like that, don’t—you?” He breathes as he continues plunging deep into your core. “You were all shy, but—but this is what you wanted all along!”

“Nao—Naoya” you squirm, holding tightly against him, and your gesture puts him to the moon, confusing it with submission to his pleasure instead of embarrassment, believing you wanting to be as close to him as he makes you unravel.

And he loves it.

“Yeah—you love that, don’t you?” Naoya grins “Of course you do, I made you like that after all. I knew that once you have my cock you wouldn’t be able to let it go—!”

How he manages to swiftly thrust deep into your core with this position is something that surprises even himself, if not make proud, more so when he’s able to keep a continuous pace that was sure to make him finish soon enough.

Either way his goal is clear, and as he keeps getting closer and closer to his release, his thrust becomes sloppy, making his hold falter on you for a quick second, before regaining his momentum. It doesn’t take much longer for that familiar jolt of pleasure to invade his senses, thrusting faster into you before keeping you still, forcing you down on his cock while it twitches, and then, releases his hot seed inside you.

He groans when he feels his cock begin to fill your cunt, pushing closer to you as an attempt to reach as deep as possible and completely coat your walls—he bites his lips, resting his head against your shoulder as you can’t do anything else but hold him, eyes closed tight as you wait for him to finish.

After a few seconds of having you in this position, feeling sated for what would be the first orgasm of the day, Naoya then looks back at you. It’s only for a brief moment that his eyes lock with yours, because he’d then look at your lips, lick his, and capture them in a heated kiss to seal his high.

It’s just as intense as before, if not a bit sloppy, given the seemingly reckless way he moves alongside you, but that doesn’t stop him, going on like that, cock still inside you, for a bit longer and only leaving when the bliss of his orgasm calms down, enough to clear his mind, and the need of air proved too much to keep ignoring.

“Y/N” He breathes, unsheathing his cock from your tight walls and invertedly unplugging his seed from inside you. A drop manages to slide down your thigh, other to the ground, and the sight of it makes Naoya mad with desire.

He knows he’s given the staff more than enough evidence that he’s keeping up with his marital duties, more than enough work to clean after—and no matter how many times he’s done this, nor the incessant ways you’ve complained to him to at least keep things clean, he still gets the same rush at the first time.

It kind of saddens him to see his seed being discarded so easily, guess he has to “make up” for the spill, now.

“Y/N” He says again, almost in trance as the bliss on his eyes begins to diminish “You can do better than that, can’t you?”

His words could only signify the beginning of a long afternoon, where his cock would find it’s way back into you—and it did, various times.

The way he’d take you wouldn’t be him holding you up, he’d instead would follow through his initial request, placing you on the floor and on all fours, still indifferent of the complaints you given him, and take you from behind.

This position, while simple, was one of his favorite for he could be far more relentless, harsher if you must, and lewder too— it gave him endless possibilities, such as using his hands to knead any part of your body he could get a hold of, either from moving your hips to the pace he wanted, landing his palm on your ass, enjoying the way you’d squeal whenever his skin would touch yours, growing harder when seeing the redness forming on it.

And of course, the vulgar way his hips would sound against you, sometimes, it’s all he ever hears.

Or he’d have you ride him, letting you do all the work as he sits back, relax, and enjoys the way your tits bounce before him, occasionally raising his hands to twist and pinch your hardened nipples, or even taking them in his mouth, letting tongue do the teasing while forcing you to stay there by wrapping his arms around you, rolling your hips against him as your cunt softly clenches around his cock.

The day would only end when he’s found himself rightfully sated by spilling his seed inside you countless times, to the point where it would dribble down your legs and to the floor, such a disgusting view you opted to not look at it this point anymore, knowing well that no matter how many times you ask him to not make a further mess, he would just incite you more.

His fingers would find his way inside you, teasing and stretching your walls to give you that nauseous jolt of pleasure once more, making his seed and your slick gush when you cum and splattering on the ground.

Naoya found immense pleasure in the way his seed would slide out your hole, a satisfaction that reassured him he had officially marked you—far from any legal paper, or the acknowledgement of anyone else, this was his way to tell the world you were his.

Mark you. Scent you.

You were his woman, no one else’s.

But you never felt the same, ever, especially when you’d turn to your side, away from him gaze and begin to cry.

Naoya has seen you cry before, mainly during the act, but this time felt almost… eerie. Your tears weren’t of pleasure, overwhelmed by his gestures, and it makes him confused.

Well, at least he’s still able to admit that he doesn’t like the way you’re silently sobbing to yourself, further and further inching away from him as you do so.

Thus, your husband is quick to close the space between the two, wrapping his arms around you and ignoring the way you tense up against him before continuing.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, he couldn’t be any less invested, but he guesses he could care. You’re his wife, after all.

You don’t respond for the first insistence, nor for the second, and at this point Naoya grows a bit more concerned.

Not a whole lot, perhaps not genuinely, but he doesn’t like how you keep going on like this—it presents a hindrance to his plans, after all.

“Tell me” he persists “Why are you crying, my love?”

And you don’t know what it is that motivates you to answer, perhaps falling victim to his unusually soft words, confused by the numbing sensations he’s given you, but in between hiccups and sobs, you concede to tell him.

“I want to go home—!”

And the revelation… squeezes Naoya’s heart, forcing a smile out of him. But of course, it’s not because he feels empathy towards your feelings, nor understands what you actually mean with those words.

His twisted mindset could only perceive this as a false eagerness to start your new life with him—settle down as his wife, the future lady of the Zen’in estate, and live out the rest of your days with him.

“Aww, my love…” He says with a grin, nuzzling against your ear—you’re too deep into your emotions to even acknowledge him “We’ll be home soon—let’s enjoy this time for ourselves, without anyone else… just the two of us, ok?”

“I want—I want to go home…” you continue to say, attempting to retreat further and further into yourself but your husband simply does not allow it. He doesn’t want you to, not when your words have awoken something else in him once more…

“Just—stay like this” he says, aligning the tip of his cock onto your slit, holding you right there as he pushes past your folds and inches slowly inside you, the way your walls envelop his member is agonizingly delicious, he dares not ruin it by pushing through in one swift movement.

He was insatiable.

Naoya had just used you in all ways possible, marked you however possible.

And he still wanted more.

“Just—do this for me, my love” He breathes, hips starting to rut against you. You continue to cry. “And I’ll give you—everything. Anything you want—it’s yours.”

It wouldn’t take long before Naoya finds the right pace and focuses on solely seeking his pleasure, doing whatever he could to find that spot that always made you clench, hold onto his cock as if the mere thought of being empty was enough to drive you mad, and subsequently push him over the edge.

His hand snakes down to your clit, relentlessly rubbing and pinching the bud until you soon begin to see white, softly pleading him to stop, as you attempt to push back the inevitable—Naoya doesn’t concede, if anything, his fingers just work faster, teasing it as if it were his own personal toy and finally—makes you cum.

You whine as the familiar wave of pleasure overwhelmed your senses, softly moaning as Naoya grabs you tighter and harshly plunges against you, his member reaching the deepest part of your core and spilling his burning seed inside you.

He instinctively ruts again you a few more times, attempting to plug his cum inside you while lamenting (not so much) that some of it had managed to escape your rim, although the sight it offered was far more alluring than anything else, making his cock twitch as he continues to empty himself in you.

Naoya had long lost count of how many times he’d finished inside you, but he can say it was enough for the day. He was exhausted, possibly far more than any training could’ve given him, at least that was made up for—however, he never felt this sense of intimacy when done with his workout, quick to seek reassurance by turning you around and getting a good look at your flustered face, slightly parted lips, and teary eyes as you tried to regain your breath.

He stares at you for a few more seconds, admiring the result of his work before leaning down to kiss you.

And the gesture, perhaps an effect of his post-orgasm bliss, makes him say:

“I love you.”

Whether he knows the true meaning of those words, or not, it doesn’t really matter. It was what came out of him at that moment, what he wanted to tell you. And even if you didn’t return them, he didn’t care much for it.

Not when he had the rest of his life to hear them, countless future opportunities opening before him, for this was only the beginning of his marriage.

[gremlinaristocrat]

Things I got from playing Patho Classic HD that I didn't get from the sequel or from watching videos about it

As the Bachelor:

Thinking I'm being clever buying/trading-for alpha-tablets over the course of Day 1 only to find out at the end that they're effectively useless.

Hearing my boots go squish-squish-squish as I walk through a pile of [???] in a plague district, and continue to make that noise for several steps afterwards.

Wandering around late at night after a long day in Daniil's head, noticing changes to houses' windows: "Are these absolute barbarians setting their houses on fire while they're still inside!? Oh wait, that's just the glow from their hearths keeping them warm at night, and what I thought were embers were leaves falling . . . that's kinda cute actually."

Realizing the logic puzzle with the three Watchers is solvable even if everyone plays their roles perfectly, solving the harder version, and then seeing the Earth Watcher blatantly contradict himself & make all my cleverness redundant.

The weirdness of the empty plagueless Day 12 streets.

Georgiy appearing to straight-up admit in his last conversation that there's no magic soul-preserving trick and he's just LARPing as Simon.

As the Haruspex:

The sheer surreality of Big Vlad being helpful and straightforward with you after seeing how he acts in the Bachelor's route.

You can insult the weirdly-dressed dudes in the Stone Yard in exactly the same way as the Bachelor (as if we needed more evidence that they're soulmates . . .)

Daniil is a lot more reasonable early in this route than tumblr and hbomberguy led me to believe, he really is trying his best.

[Completes Day 4's main quest before noon] [Knows what's in rough terms what's coming next] [Wakes up in a cell after being beaten to death and getting all my weapons stolen] . . . oh hey it's only late afternoon, that's not so bad . . . WAIT IT'S LATE AFTERNOON OF THE NEXT DAY!?

Slowly realizing what the Worms want the organs for after noticing that A) they also trade for fresh food and B) they value the non-organ-ic food a lot more highly.

The weird anticlimax associated with making the panacea (especially contrasted with how it goes in P2).

The feeling of utter horror when I realized what the potions Oyun gave me did.

The insane corkscrew trail I needed to follow to get Grace's opinion so I could relay it to that one Worm.

The fact that EVERYONE seemed to know that Oyun killed Isidor the ENTIRE time and NO-ONE tells Artemy (Vlad alludes to it on day 1! My Haruspex found out from ****ing Dankovsky of all people!)

"Hah! I got to save everyone and meet the Makers in the Theater without killing a single child!"

As the Changeling:

"Welp, guess I'm killing a child now."

Her mad leaps of logic during Day 1 which only make sense when you realize she's laundering OOC knowledge.

The arc of my understanding of P1 Artemy over the three playthroughs: "Seems like a scary weirdo"->"Okay now I'm playing as him his actions make a lot of sense"->"Okay now I'm getting to meet him a lot from another perspective I realize he actually is a scary weirdo without my mediating influence".

Nina's grave having slightly different stuff on it, for no obvious reason.

"I killed those muggers and they dropped . . . jewellery? I know what muggers drop, that's not it." "What are you talking about, Player? You did kill those muggers, this isn't Clara coming up with an excuse for you, she definitely didn't break into people's houses and take their valuables."

Realizing Clara doesn't have to buy maps, and what that implies.