#Impart to Human Hearts Series

[felassan]

Hayes Madsen for Inverse - Game Changers: 'Corinne Busche Is the Ruler of RPGs, Conqueror of Haters'

The director of Dragon Age brings her personal journey to life in her games with a rich, messy tapestry of love, life, and romance.

[source]

"If there’s a single Dragon Age character that ever made their way to Super Smash Bros, it should be the lovable dwarf Varric Tethras – at least that’s what Dragon Age: The Veilguard director Corinne Busche thinks. “Can you imagine, in a game like Smash Bros, seeing him whip around the battlefield,” Busche tells Inverse, “You could smash someone back off the ledge by giving Bianca a good old toss, and don’t worry, it’ll ricochet, he’ll catch it. It writes itself.” Varric, always with his beloved crossbow Bianca, has been something of a poster dwarf for the franchise — a constant in a series that drastically changes between each entry. But Varric himself is also a perfect representation of Dragon Age at large. An emotionally complex character, Varric openly deals with deep trauma, but can still manage to be whimsical and uplifting. That holistic sense of character is a big part of what’s made Dragon Age so successful, and lasting. Its influence is clear to see, especially in the 2023 Game of the Year, Baldur’s Gate 3 – which heavily borrows from the world and party member design of Dragon Age games. It’s a connection that’s been pointed out by countless fans and critics — but what’s fascinating is how Baldur’s Gate 3 and Veilguard feel like they’re advancing different aspects of Dragon Age’s identity. “It’s not lost on me, and it’s not lost on the team, how important these games are in people’s lives,” Busche says, “Coming into this game, that’s a tremendous feeling of accountability and of needing to be true and authentic to what these games mean to people.” When it comes to authenticity in games, plenty of directors and developers talk the talk, but Busche is the rare game maker who delivers. From her time with The Sims to Dragon Age, Busche has always brought a deep sense of humanity to the game, putting characters first and never shying away from nuance or complexity in identity, relationships, and existential crises. It’s what makes Busche a leader in the industry, and why BioWare tried so hard to carry on the Dragon Age series’ legacy with Veilguard. But Busche isn’t finished yet. She’s come a long way in the industry and has wisdom to impart — and more projects to come."

"Varric himself is also a perfect representation of Dragon Age at large. An emotionally complex character, Varric openly deals with deep trauma, but can still manage to be whimsical and uplifting"

"The Days Before Fantasy Like many developers, Busche got her start from humble beginnings, working on a series that’s a far cry from a fantasy epic — Tiger Woods PGA Tour. In fact, Busche hadn’t planned on working video games at all, but using her digital animation degree she landed work on Tiger Woods as an environmental artist, and the desire to keep making games stuck like glue. But her love of RPGs started long before that, with some deep-cut classics like Heroes of Might and Magic 3 and Final Fantasy XII – which she argues is the best one in the series. An even bigger influence on her personal philosophy as a developer, however, was the Square Enix cult classic Xenogears. “That was the first RPG that really touched my heart, that made me cry, where I feel in love with the characters, and realize these games have something to say,” says Busche “They touch on deep socially relevant narratives through these fantasy setting and the complexity of characters.”"

"Xenogears was an incredibly influential game to developers like Busche. Its creator, Tetsuya Takahashi, went on to make the wildly popular Xenoblade franchise."

"Those specific RPGs have a lot to say about identity and personality, and that’s a topic that Busche has constantly wanted to explore in her work – how games can explore autonomy and choice. Busche has been open in the past about transitioning while at BioWare, and how much the studio helped her feel seen and supported. But there’s another vital piece of her career that directly played into Busche’s expertise with Dragon Age, and it might not be what you think. Before leading the charge on Veilguard, Busche honed her skills working on an even bigger mega-hit franchise, The Sims. For over five years she worked in designer and creative director roles. “Working at Maxis and on a game like The Sims, is an incredibly fortunate environment for a designer to really hone their craft, and the reason I say that is they’re deeply complex games,” says Busche, “You’re really exploring underlying systems that drive character behaviors, skill progression, game economies, all allowing for emergent gameplay.”"

"Busche cut her teeth on the Sims 3: Into the Future expansion."

"To Busche, games like The Sims, or even Animal Crossing, continue to flourish because of human nature, the inherent need we have to be social creatures and form connections. They’re deeply relatable games that reflect our real lives, but in a way, that same idea can apply to a complex RPG like Dragon Age — and Busche’s time with The Sims gave her a unique advantage going into Veilguard. “I love that marriage of simulation and these fantasy worlds full of rich, deep characters that feel lived in. I believe that as RPGs continue to evolve, what you’ll see is an increasing focus on that marriage between simulation and a fantasy storytelling layer,” says Busche “After all, it’s about immersion, it’s about autonomy and relatedness. These are deep common aspects between these two seemingly different styles of games.”"

"An Origins Story Dragon Age has been a lot of things over the years, an open world game, a mobile hero-collecting title, dozens of comics and books, and even a Netflix series. Fan-created works have flourished for nearly two decades – the fan fiction archive website Archive of Our Own even has over 13,000 entries for Dragon Age: Origins alone. That idea of player agency and identity is the very bedrock of what Dragon Age is built on. As such, Dragon Age has always been incredibly progressive. Origins liberally featured queer romances, and Inquisition, the third game in the series, has a whole plotline about a major side character being transgender. This allows the series to explore themes of identity and belonging in ways other RPGs can’t, and Veilguard certainly sticks to that idea. “I’m an openly queer, trans woman,” Busche says. “It shaped everything about who I am, and it’s been the source of a lot of joy, a lot of difficulty, and perspective. For me personally, one of the greatest gifts about being trans is the amount of introspection it forces upon you. You spend a lot of time deeply examining who you are, and why that matters.”"

"Zevran from Dragon Age: Origins was an accomplished assassin, but, more notably in 2009, a bisexual character."

"For Busche, great games offer a mirror that allows you to reflect on your own identity, preferences, and choices. When developing a game, Busche says she is “thinking about the role introspection plays on people in general, and how each of us go through our lives having these moments of crises, epiphanies, and those quiet moments when you’re alone. These are questions that are ripe for personalized experiences like RPGs, especially when you consider our biggest creative pillar: Be who you want to be.” To Busche and the team it “felt like the right time” to really take Dragon Age’s exploration of identity further, especially with a character like Rook that’s so molded by the player’s personal feelings and thoughts. But one of the more interesting strides Veilguard makes is allowing you to share experiences, including romances, with a compelling cast of party members — easily some of the most memorable characters BioWare has ever created."

"The Fight For Progress And Fate For Dragon Age Questions about BioWare’s future abound, especially with the team now pivoting to focus work on Mass Effect 5 — a similarly long-awaited comeback for a beloved franchise. But in the immediate future the studio has faced a different problem, a hate campaign that’s put Veilguard at the center of a kind of culture war on social media, along with plenty of hateful comments toward developers and review bombing on sites like Metacritic. “I think we should talk about it,” Busche says. “It’s hard. I grew up in a time when it really felt like we’re there to celebrate the games and to have these shared experiences, and that drive is still there. I think the discourse we see is the result of highly polarized times, and perhaps it’s a little naive. I know it’s hard when you have to ask the question, is this game for me? Do I belong here? And games are better for it when we can say yes, you do belong here.” Dragon Age is far from the only game that’s come under fire recently, particularly for inclusions of diversity, or diverse storytelling. For most of this year, Assassin’s Creed Shadows has been the constant target of a hate campaign, with Ubisoft’s art director recently condemning the backlash and harassment the studio and team has faced. The creator of the indie game Tales of Kenzera: ZAU, Abubakar Salim, has also been vocal about the “fever pitch” of racism the game and its team have received. These kinds of events seem to be happening more and more, but for BioWare and Busche, the focus is on celebrating what the team has created. “I know, and something that’s very important to me, is that games are inherently diverse when you think about the size of these teams and the specializations you have within them. When you have diverse, complex, large groups of people coming together to make something, of course, the game is going to be a reflection of those teams,” says Busche “I think we need to consider that we can make the most authentic, best experiences when we’re tying into what makes us as the developers, and you as the fans, when we can tie into those elements that make us distinctly human, and that means differences.” In Busche’s mind, not embracing the lived experiences of the development team would result in stories and worlds that feel less relatable, less alive. Game developers also need to feel safe in what they do, which ultimately means being able to see themselves reflected in their work. “We have an incredibly diverse player base, and what I mean by that is their motivations and expectations,” Busche says. “This becomes the biggest opportunity to continue that tradition of reinvention.” At the end of the day, gamers Busche believes gamers have so much in common, starting with a love for the game. “What I long for is just that opportunity for us as gamers to step back and get in touch with why we fell in love with games in the first place, and recognize how difficult and complicated and messy it is to make games,” says Busche, “To share these vulnerable experience and just approach it with a little greater sense of kindness and curiosity.”"

[source]

[mlqueen89]

Five | Favour

I don't know what you've been told  But time is running out, no need to take it slow  I'm stepping to you toe-to-toe  I should be scared, honey, maybe so But I ain't worried 'bout it right now (right now) 

I Ain’t Worried About by OneRepublic 

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings/triggers: smut in overall series, gambling (let me know if i missed any!)

word count: 10,315

summary: ellie tries to be human. jake comes along for the ride. rooster is rooster. and teak is an asshole.

A/N: capping off our chapter four, that accidentally became chapter 5 cause i can't write anything short to save my liiiife.

dropped a little hinty poo in the chapter banner if you're curious who teak was modeled after. hang onto your butts, cause there's something special (it's smut) in the next chapter.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ glossary of terms ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥ 

Ellie was staring at the data, but she wasn’t really seeing it. The test results were all there—every fluctuation, every spike, every point of measurement leading right up to Hangman damn near breaking her system before it had a chance to breathe. She should’ve been combing through it, analyzing the weak points, figuring out what needed reinforcement, programming tweaks, writing out her adjustment report for the ground crew. She even entertained the idea of calling the update Anti-Cocky SOB Pilot Protocol, hidden somewhere in the code, a small little piece of nothing when someone who didn’t know code looked at it. Although programming an entire failsafe trigger around Hangman felt a little like overkill, a carefully masked line of code might satisfy the tiny petty part of her. Hell, she’d sure as hell get something out of it when it flashed across her screen the next time Hangman tried (and failed) to break her tech. 

Instead, her thoughts kept circling back to Rooster’s words, to the way he’d defended Hangman like Ellie was the unreasonable one in this situation. Like she was the one who didn’t get it. Ellie respected Rooster in many ways, but she couldn’t get on board with being on the wrong side of this.  

Simply put, Hangman hadn’t followed the parameters of testing. Hangman hadn’t respected her enough to run her test the way she needed it to be run. The train of thought made her pulse tick up, the heat of anger building inside her chest as she felt the muscles in her jaw tighten. 

A quiet knock on the frame of her open door pulled her out of it, shifted the boiling pot off the burner and settled the simmering water that threatened to spill over the edge. When she looked up, Mav was leaning against the doorjamb, casually unbothered, his arms crossed over his chest. Despite his nonchalant appearance, Ellie clocked the familiar knowing expression set into his features. How long he had been standing there, watching her stew in her own thoughts, she couldn’t have been sure. 

“Got a minute?” he asked, but he was already stepping into her office, his gait careful and slow as he approached. 

Ellie nodded, closing out one of the screens, her hand trembling slightly as her heart, still coming down from the thought of the testing and the resulting conversation with Rooster, pounded heavily in her chest, before swiveling in her chair to face him. “If this is about today’s test results, I was just about to—” 

Maverick pulled up a chair across from her, dragging it closer with a skip-stutter of the legs on tiled floor. “We can go over them. But that’s not why I’m here.” 

She frowned slightly, waiting. In all the years she’d known Mav—Uncle Mav—she could count on one hand the few times she’d ever seen him serious, and it reminded her that his face could impart it. 

“You seemed… distracted earlier,” Mav’s approach was as careful as it had been when he’d stepped into her office, tilting his head as he studied her, testing the waters. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Not sure when you got so good at this,” Ellie waved her hand as if she were gathering up the essence of his presence, searching for the right word, “—relaxed dad vibe, Mav, it’s very—” 

“Oklahoma.” 

Ellie bit her lip, hard. Mav’s face remained stoic. 

Fucking Oklahoma.  

She should’ve seen that one coming.  

Ellie exhaled sharply, dropping her head back against the chair. 

The Oklahoma rule had started when she was a kid—probably around nine or ten if memory served—during one of the rare times Mav had been around for more than a few days at a time. They’d been in the backyard, her brand-new white sneakers covered in dirt, arms crossed tight as she glared up at him, stubborn and fuming after getting caught trying to sneak out past bedtime. She’d made it past her dad and her uncle Wolfman sharing a beer in the kitchen and her mom talking on the phone with the long cord stretched around the corner into the living room. She’d avoided the creaking stair halfway down the porch and was approaching her swing-set, bathed in the orange twilight when he’d stepped out from the shadowed spot on the porch. Maverick. 

“Dad said I could swing.” Ellie announced, sure of herself when her Uncle Mav had asked if she should be in bed, glancing down at his watch. 

“You really gonna lie to me, kid?” Mav had crouched down to her level, his eyes boring into hers, serious in a way she had never seen him before at that age. Her uncle Mav was the one who let her eat cookies after she’d brushed her teeth, her uncle Mav brought her cool rocks from the places he’d visited, her uncle Mav was not serious. 

“No,” she’d said, but she’d been looking down at her toes, studying the largest fleck of half-dried dark brown mud across the top of her once pristinely white shoes. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, even as the silence stretched, and she almost wondered if he’d given up on the interrogation. 

“That so?” 

She had stood her ground, chin lifted when she realized that he was indeed as serious as a heart attack as her mom would say, until Mav narrowed his eyes and—without warning—broke the silence. “Oklahoma.” 

It had meant nothing to her at the time. A random word, plucked from the sky. So random that she had waited, waited for his next words before she spoke again. “What?” 

“Oklahoma,” he had repeated evenly, confident and sure as if it were the most obvious thing a person would say in the current situation. “Means you have to tell the truth. No lying, no dodging. Just straight answers.” 

She had hesitated, sensing a trap, the kind adults set for kids who misbehaved. Santa will know you’re not actually sleeping. If you don’t eat carrots, you’ll go blind. Oklahoma means you have to tell the truth—or else.  

“That’s not a real rule.” 

“It is now. Wanna ask your old man?” 

Ellie had yelped, reaching for Mav’s hand as he stood, pulling him back with a shake of her head, her tiny ponytail whipping around her face. 

And just like that, it had stuck. Over the years, it became their unspoken pact. It had become so engrained in her, that even though it had been years since she’d seen Mav, the word evoked the same feelings, an almost Pavlovian response to spill her guts. 

Now, sitting across from Mav in her office, Ellie pressed her lips into a thin line.  

“Come on, kid,” Mav urged. “Out with it. Rules are rules.” 

Ellie resisted the urge to throw it back at him, wasn’t he the one who didn’t like rules? Instead, Ellie exhaled slowly, reaching up to massage her temples for a beat before she finally relented. Going toe-to-stubborn-toe with Mav was a losing game. 

Ellie exhaled through her nose. “I’m fine.” 

Maverick didn’t look convinced. “Ellie.” His voice was softer now, more measured. “I saw the way you and Hangman went at it today. And then Rooster. Whatever’s going on there—don’t let it get in the way. Your work could make a lot of difference.” 

Ellie bristled, could feel the prickle of reproach travel up her spine, seeping into her words before she could filer them into a measured tone. “It’s not getting in the way.” 

Maverick gave her a look. “You sure about that?” 

She sat up straighter, squared her shoulders. “I can do this, Mav.” 

He nodded slowly, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I believe you. But I’ve seen what happens when you let personal feelings cloud your judgment. And I’ve been on the other side of it too.” His gaze flickered, just for a second, to the framed photo over her shoulder on the shelf, the one with Mav, and her dad, Wolfman, Iceman and Slider, and... Goose. 

Goose, Mav’s old RIO; Goose, Rooster’s dad.  

Ellie’s throat tightened and she felt the fight leave her.  

Mav didn’t wait for her to say anything, his eyes back on her now as he continued. “I know what it’s like to feel like you have to prove something. To yourself. To everyone else. And I know what it’s like to let that get in the way of what actually matters.” 

Ellie swallowed. “This isn’t about proving myself...” 

Maverick met her gaze, his brow raised. He didn’t need to say it this time. 

“Okay, maybe I want to, just a little,” she admitted. It felt like the information was being prised from her strong grip. She just didn’t know who she wanted to prove herself to yet, or maybe she wasn’t ready to admit it. “But that’s not why I don’t tr—” Ellie paused, sorting her words out for a moment before she started again. “He didn’t follow the testing parameters, Mav. He didn’t just push the system—he pushed me. And we don’t have time to play games with some hotshot pilot who wants to see if he can break my work before it’s even ready for that kind of stress test.” 

Maverick sat up, his hands sliding across his pant legs, taking a moment to study Ellie, watching her for a beat and then two before he spoke, leaning back in the chair. “Are you okay to continue? There’s no shame in bringing this back to the drawing board.” 

Ellie met his gaze, steady and unwavering. If anyone but Mav had suggested it, she’d be all over them. “I’ve spent years working to get here. I lived on bases in Germany and Turkey and South Korea, working on this. I am not letting it all fall apart because I can’t get a handle on a few pilots. It’s ready. I’m ready.” 

Maverick nodded once, seemingly satisfied. Then he smirked, wry and wide, giving his head a slight shake. “You know, you remind me of someone.” 

“Great. That’ll definitely get me a lot of bonus points with Admiral Simpson,” Ellie huffed a laugh. “Should I be worried?” 

Mav’s shrug was easy, immediate, “probably.” His expression softened, turning into something more genuine. “Come on. Let’s go over those results. Figure out what we need to tweak to stick it to our hotshot pilots. I can chat with Hondo to make it happen if we need more resources.” 

Ellie nodded; the smile that twisted her lips not easy to hide as she turned back to her screen. “I was actually thinking of programming a failsafe called ACSOBPP.”  

“ACSOBPP?” 

“Anti-Cocky S.O.B. Pilot Protocol.” Ellie smirked and from the corner of her eye, she could see Mav relax, the serious exterior fading away until a glimmer of Uncle Mav peeked through. 

“I think Anti-Seresin Protocol might be more... succinct?” 

Her responding snort had her shaking her head, and as she pulled up the data, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Mav saw through her quicker than she felt comfortable admitting. 

Rooster: You coming to the Hard Deck tonight? 

A picture of a glass of gin sitting on the hard top of a bar came through next. 

Ellie: Maybe. 

Rooster: That’s not a real answer. 

Ellie: It’s the only one you’re getting. 

Rooster: So that’s a yes. 

Ellie huffed, tossing her phone onto the bed behind her as she turned back toward her open closet, wrapped in a towel, hair still slightly damp from the shower, chewing her thumbnail. 

She’d firmly decided not to go to the Hard Deck tonight by the time she’d stepped in through the front door, her mind already drifting to the book on her nightstand she’d yet to pick up again since the flight back to San Fran. After the day she’d had, full of a dull, pulsing mix of nerves and rage, there was nothing she’d rather do at this moment than pack it in for the night, turn off her social meter and relax until she drifted into the oblivion of sleep. 

She’d followed through the motions: climbing the stairs to the main living area, every step heavy; a quick wave to Yan who sang off-key to the music thumping through her earbuds as she spread peanut butter on a slice of toast in the kitchen and didn’t notice Ellie passing; trudging to her room down the hall, pausing only for a moment to straighten a crooked frame on the wall; stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower in her ensuite and letting the water wash away the calcified stress. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing under the water but when she opened her eyes, the small room was fogged with steam, and her phone was buzzing with a text message on the window ledge near the shower. Rooster. 

Now, she stood in front of her closet, mind slightly changed about going out, the book on her nightstand, forgotten again. It took her a minute to pull on a pair of jeans, a white tank top and the black leather jacket she’d had for as long as she could remember. 

When she slipped out of her room, her hair mostly dried and a small bit of makeup dusting her features, Yan was no longer in the kitchen and the house was dim, save for the light over the stove. 

“I know you’re not sneaking out the door in your ‘fuck me’ jacket.” Nic muttered lazily, her hair a nest as she blinked at the time on the stove display. 

“No.” Ellie had responded too quickly, she knew because Nic’s eyes were on her, taking in the rest of her outfit, from ankle boot to the crown of her high ponytail. 

Instinctively, Ellie tugged the black leather jacket tighter around her body, her arms folded across her chest. “It’s just a jacket, Nic.” She wanted to ignore the fact she hadn’t worn her vintage aviator jacket since, well— 

Nic was shaking her head, mostly to herself, but Ellie knew which thoughts were running through her friend’s head, because she knew Nic’s as well as her own. This was the jacket that had made it through the college days of clubbing in downtown San Fran; this jacket had ended up on the floor of more than one bedroom; this jacket had been with them on their “girl’s trip” to Rome. This jacket was fun Ellie’s armour. This jacket had providence: the fuck me jacket. On the inside tag where the washing instructions had long faded away, Nic had once written an ‘F’ and an ‘M’. 

“Does this, per chance, have anything to do with the fact you were sporting a serious love bite the day after my party?” 

Ellie let out a dry laugh, incredulous, though she felt the heat creeping up the back of her neck. “Oh, definitely not.”  

Bradley had said she needed to appear more ‘human’, and less Ned Leeds/Girl in the Chair to Spiderman; less Woman in the High Castle; more down to their level, accessible. She had to prove she wasn’t sent by SkyNet to systematically wipe them out. This was her white flag; the Christmas truce of 1914 (Ellie’s version). “I’m trying to be more... likeable?”

“Ok. Well, in that case...” Nic snorted as she grabbed the first glass from the cabinet she was reaching into and slotted it under the faucet. She filled it near to the top and drained half with noisy gulps before she continued. It was clear she didn’t believe Ellie as much as Ellie would have liked her to. “Tell Bradley it’s going to be on him if you get your spiky, impenetrable, stone heart broken by some hotshot pilot.” 

This time, it was Ellie’s turn to snort. “Trust me, there’s a negative zero chance of that.” 

And yet, Jake’s stupid, not not handsome face was there, in the back of her mind already fully formed, sipping on her coffee, the spark behind his green eyes alive. Quickly, the image shifted: his tall frame folded into the briefing chair this afternoon, toothpick pinched between his perfect teeth, his eyes dancing like he really got it when she spoke about her life’s work. Her stomach twisted, something all at once unpleasant and yet...not. 

Then, the reminder of her tech screaming loud, red, flashing warnings as he pushed past the parameters she’d set filled her head. His voice in her ears, smooth, calm as he pushed that same work, she thought he’d admired moments before to the breaking point.  

Ellie felt the prickle of irritation rising. Simultaneously, she felt the overwhelming urge to punch him waring with the impulse to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw, allow her fingers to ghost the place on his cheek where the dimples appeared when he smirked, satisfy the itch she felt to—nope. No. She tamped the stray thoughts down, swatted away the misty image of his perfect features until no trace remained. Shooed them back to the box in her mind with the flimsy tape and the warning stickers.

“Dude.” Nic’s eyebrow couldn’t possibly have arched higher on her forehead as she stared at Ellie, “be so fucking for real right now. Your eyes are glazing over.” 

“What’s going on?” Yan’s bedroom door clicked shut softly as she pulled an earbud out and slid up to the kitchen island where Nic was standing. 

 “Oh, you know, Ell was just sneaking out the door like a hormonal teen in the ‘fuck me’, jacket.” Nic waved at Yan, offering the jar of Nutella she’d pulled out somewhere between Ellie’s eye-glazed thoughts and now. Nic reached into the drawer to her left to give Yan a clean spoon, her eyes never leaving Ellie. 

“Woah—new development in the—?” Yan took the spoon and leaned on the counter, mirroring Nic’s posture, clinking her spoon with Nic’s expectantly outstretched one before she dug into the jar of hazelnut paste. Yan waggled her eyebrows at Ellie while Nic watched, casting her gaze between her two roommates, quietly gathering puzzle pieces. Ellie’s shoulders sagged. 

 “Wait, what thing? What new development?” Nic was already asking qualifying questions. She suddenly didn’t seem sleepy anymore. 

 Ellie rolled her eyes, readjusting the strap of her purse as she made a show of checking for her house key and her phone. “It’s a work thing, okay? No new developments on that thing we talked about that one time, ever.” 

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Yan was doing her terrible impression of an English accent. The one that had her almost kicked out of a bar on New Year’s Eve a few years ago when she drunkenly tormented a poor man who had tried to ask her out. 

“Is she seriously keeping secrets from me?” Nic turned to Yan, nodding her head in Ellie’s direction. “Are you keeping secrets from me, your oldest friend? Is it about a dick? Is it about multiple dicks?” Nic’s tone was rising, along with her excitement when she turned back to Ellie. 

“I hate you both.” Ellie flipped them off (lovingly) before she turned away, but not too soon to miss the wink Nic threw her way. 

 “Love you, too, my emotionally messy, disconnected, babe.” 

“Practice safe sex! Don’t do anything my grandma wouldn’t do!” Yan’s voice floated to her, down the stairs, as Ellie headed for the door. 

Even before she stepped out fully and closed the door behind her with a little too much force, Nic and Yan burst into feverish, hushed conversation. 

She imagined Nic was already texting Bradley while Yan filled her in. 

Yeah, runnin’ down a dream that never would come to me, workin’ on a mystery, goin’ wherever it leads, runnin’ down a dream 

By the time Ellie made it to the Hard Deck and stepped inside, it was buzzing. 

The warmth of bodies, the scent of salt and beer, the sound of Tom Petty crooning over the speakers—it was all overwhelmingly familiar, in the way a tv show picked out the nostalgia of a vague moment and made it matter, expounded. Ellie knew she didn’t belong here and yet... it all pulled her in. 

Ellie had spent enough of her childhood in bars like this to know the rhythm of them—the sticky floors, the low hum of conversation layered beneath bursts of laughter, the clink of bottles meeting wood. Her dad used to bring her along sometimes, settling her at a corner table with a soda, a colouring book and a cup with pieces of broken crayons while he swapped stories with old squadron buddies. She’d watch them, the way they filled a room with their presence, loud and unshakable, carrying the weight of the sky on their shoulders like it was nothing. Back then, she hadn’t realized how much of that weight had been left unspoken. Now, years later, standing in the Hard Deck, just on the fringe, she wondered if she had inherited more of it than she ever meant to. 

When she pulled into the parking lot, the neon lights of the sign above the door, a neon jet flickering to resemble an evasive maneuver, the light that spilled out from the windows and door coaxed her inside. Just one drink. Just one chat. Just one hour. When she pulled it out, the phone lodged in the cup holder read back 8:47 PM. One hour. 

It didn’t take long for her presence to be noticed. 

“Rigsy!” 

She barely had time to react before Rooster was there, his face lighting up in genuine surprise. He had a beer in one hand as he jabbed a finger into her shoulder, as if he wanted to make sure she was really there. 

“You actually showed up,” his grin was easy, tinged by something Ellie could place as a look of victory. “Thought you were going to bail.” 

Ellie laughed, shifting her weight onto one foot, her eyes scanning the crowd to look for other faces she might recognize. If she was going to be here, she wanted to make sure she was seen.  

“Trust me, I almost did.” She left out the part where “almost did” meant that she had turned around two sets of traffic lights before she got here but had taken a wrong turn and had ended up back on the right path, somehow. 

Rooster chuckled, nudging her shoulder with his. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t.” He nodded toward the bar at the center of the room before they started walking, “First round’s on me.” 

Before she could answer, someone across the bar called his name, and Rooster turned toward them, already halfway through an apology. “Give me one minute, okay? Stay put.” 

Ellie sighed, tugging at her jacket as she watched Rooster disappear into the crowd, before she approached the bar. She’d just reached a space in the line of chairs already occupied by some ground crew and a pilot or two when she heard it, the unmistakable drawl. 

“Well, well, well.”  

Ellie hated how she could feel her pulse uptick slightly, her suddenly racing heart telling her who it would be before she turned to look.  

“As I live and breathe...” 

Ellie turned just as Jake slipped in beside her, leaning against the bar, an insufferable half-smile playing at his lips. Yet, it churned her stomach in a way she didn’t want to give too much attention. 

There was a clink of a glass on the bar and the scrape of coaster as he slid a drink toward her—whiskey, neat. 

“For almost breaking your fancy tech,” he said, smirking as she frowned down into the glass of amber. “You’re welcome.” 

Ellie’s laugh was dry, humourless, as she pushed the glass back toward him. “Thanks, but no thanks.” 

“C’mon, Rigby.” He nudged it right back in her direction. “You still sour about earlier?” 

She leveled him with a look, but she could tell he was undeterred, watching her like he had her all figured out. “Not sure sour’s the right word...” 

The ache in her jaw that persisted from this afternoon after she’d gone over the test flight data with Mav told her there was a stronger word to describe how she felt. She just hadn’t settled on it yet. 

Jake took a slow sip rolling it over his tongue like he had all the time in the world. “Listen, I get it—you like control.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the light catch in it before leveling her with a knowing smirk. “But you can’t build a game-changer and expect us not to take it for a joyride.” 

Ellie scoffed. “You mean break it?” 

His grin only deepened, his eyes dancing as he took his time, tasted his whiskey and set it back down. “Test it.” 

She let out a measured breath, trying not to let the annoyance coil too tightly inside her. “There were parameters, you just—” Ellie started, standing up straight now, her body turned toward him.  

Despite telling herself she shouldn’t, she could feel the heat rising inside of her, almost beyond her control.  

Instead, she stopped herself, taking one look at the peace offering on the bar before she grabbed it and took a swig. This was what he wanted, to get a rise out of her. If she was going to stay at the Hard Deck for longer than half a minute, she might as well have a bit of help. 

“It wasn’t ready for a stress test.” 

Jake’s lips twisted into something triumphant. “See, that right there—” he paused, pointing at her around the grip of the whiskey in his hand, “that’s why you need me.” 

Ellie braced against the burn of the whiskey as she drained the last of the drink, her glass coming back down on the bar top. She was waving Penny over for another before she cleared her throat around the burn, “I don’t need you, Seresin.” 

He chuckled, leaning against the bar now, offering a nod and smile to Penny as she slid another whiskey across to Ellie. “Sure you don’t. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you get off to sleep at night, Ace.” 

Ellie shot him a sharp look, her green eyes locking onto his. 

The air between them crackled—charged and unrelenting. 

Somewhere across the bar, she felt Rooster’s gaze on them, like he was waiting to see who would break first. 

But it wasn’t Rooster that put Ellie on edge. 

The way Jake was watching her, like he saw her. Like he knew exactly what she was trying to do—what she was trying not to feel. 

Ellie’s grip on her glass tightened. She would need to make some tactical adjustments, fortify her walls. 

Jake tilted his head, considering her for a beat before he spoke again. “Listen, we can keep this up all night, or we can put this to bed.” 

Ellie arched a brow as she studied Hangman. He lounged against the bar, his smirk just toeing the line between charming and insufferable.  

“And by this you mean...?” She motioned between them, as if she dared him to put a name to it. 

“A game.” 

“Let me get this straight,” she said after a moment, fingers drumming lightly against the glass. “You think beating you at—” Ellie glanced around, spotting a few guys throwing darts and a group of others hanging around lazily at a pool table nearby. 

“—pool.” Hangman supplied. 

“You think my beating you at pool is going to settle things between us?” 

Hangman grinned, like the answer was obvious.  

“Seein’ as how you were practically fuming earlier about me pushing your tech. Thought I’d give you a shot at knocking me down a peg—publicly, no less. Even the score a little.” He leaned in, his voice smooth, assured. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid you can’t beat me.” 

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” 

“Not in my nature,” Hangman said easily, flashing that signature smug smile of his. “But hey, if you win, I’ll admit you’ve got me beat—at least in one thing.” 

The laugh that escaped her lips was sharp, incredulous. Yet, she couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. “Not sure your ego is ready for me to wipe the floor with you.” 

Jake let out an easy, unbothered laugh, shaking his head. “That’s a bold assumption, darlin’. I like it.” 

Ellie paused for a moment, studying the way his lips curved, the dimples ghosting his cheeks. “What’s in it for you? You know, if by some miracle you manage to win?” 

Jake took a deep, even breath, looking away as he took a steady sip before he turned back to her, almost too quickly, as if he’d already decided the stakes before Ellie had asked. Still, he played it off with a shrug, nonchalant. “Let’s say... you owe me a favour, just for the fun of it.” 

Ellie arched a brow, arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the edge of the bar. “A favour?” she repeated, slowly, not bothering to hide her skepticism. Somehow, she didn’t trust that owing Jake Seresin a favour was just for the fun of it. “That's frighteningly vague.” 

Jake’s grin widened. Ellie imagined if Jake ever scratched out in his career as the top aviator in the Navy, he’d easily slip into the role of Salesman of the Year in perpetuity at some dusty used car lot somewhere between here and Nevada. “That’s the beauty of it. Leaves room for... creativity.” 

She knew how creative he was. 

Exhaling in a noisy huff, Ellie was already shaking her head. “Right. And I’m just supposed to trust that whatever favour you come up with isn’t some underhanded ploy to stroke your own ego?” 

“Guess you’re just gonna have to trust me then, won’t you?��� Jake clicked his tongue, before he pressed a hand over his heart, “on my word as a good Southern gentleman. Or do you think so little of me?” His face was all mocked offense; if he had pearls, Ellie was sure he’d be clutching at them for effect. 

Ellie snorted. “Oh, I think exactly the right amount of you.” 

For a moment in time, standing in front of him, she forgot how angry he’d made her; how hot her face was as she stormed across the tarmac, a shark sensing blood in the water. Single-minded, ready to rip into him. It was so easy with him, she’d noticed, to slip into the fun and light banter that made her lose focus. 

His chuckle was low, amused. “Well, since you’re worried, I’ll make it fair. If you win, I owe you a favour.” 

Ellie exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders back as she turned her whiskey glass between her fingers. Rooster’s words from earlier echoed in her mind— he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing the system. You want to keep him in check? Show him you can handle him. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, brushing him off with an eye roll, but now, with Jake standing in front of her, all cocky confidence and insufferable smirk, she felt the weight of the challenge settle in her chest. 

She could handle him. 

Wiping that smirk off his face would be worth it. Proving she could do this, that she could go toe-to-toe with Hangman and come out on top—that was worth it. And now, with the added twist of a wager—a favor to be cashed in—there was something even more intriguing about the game. Jake played to win, but so did she. 

If she was going to be here, if she was going to put up with his nonsense, she might as well get something out of it. 

She let the silence stretch just long enough to make him wonder before setting her drink down decisively and pushed off the bar, already making her way to the table. 

“Alright, Hangman,” she called over her shoulder. “Let’s see if you’re as good with a pool cue as you are at running your mouth.” 

When he reached the table, already moving to grab a cue stick, Jake’s grin was wolfish. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.” 

Ellie was shrugging off her leather jacket and tossing it to a nearby stool, when Rooster returned with the beer he’d promised. She watched as he carefully took in the situation, looking for context clues for only a moment before he spoke up. “What are you doing?” 

“I need more—” Ellie started, rolling her shoulders, and shaking her arms in wide, exaggerated movements, as if it were obvious, “—mobility.” 

Rooster rolled his eyes, “I see that. I mean, what are you doing.” Ellie followed his gaze to Jake, who was lining up the triangle with laser focus. 

When she caught herself staring for a beat too long, she turned back, a shrug on her shoulders, taking the bottle. “You told me to show him I could handle him, right?” Ellie motioned toward the table again as if her plan was clear. 

Rooster narrowed his eyes, taking a slow pull of his drink as if he were mulling over his words. “Right. And how does playing pool with Hangman accomplish that?” 

Ellie smirked over the rim of her bottle. “It’s a start, right?” 

He let out a short huff, glancing toward the table where Jake was still lining up the racked balls with the kind of focus usually reserved for landing a jet on a pitching carrier deck. When Rooster turned back to Ellie, suspicion creeping into his expression, his voice was cautious, “what are the stakes?” 

Ellie swirled the beer in her hand, feigning nonchalance. “Just a little wager. Not even that big of a deal.” 

Rooster’s gaze sharpened. “Ellie,” he warned, stretching her name out like he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “What did you bet?” 

She shook her head, waving a hand dismissively, the picture of a kind of casual confidence she wasn’t sure she had a firm grip on. “When I win, he owes me a favour.” 

Rooster nodded slowly, lips pursing. He looked like a mom listening to a kid’s genius plan to build a backyard rollercoaster—nothing but duct tape and optimism. Encouraging. Skeptical. “And if he wins?” 

Ellie hesitated and when Rooster’s brows shot up, comically high, she knew she’d paused just a fraction too long. 

“Ellie—” 

“—I owe him a favour,” she admitted, finally meeting his gaze. Though, she suspected Rooster already guessed as much by the way he was looking at her right now, unblinking and gaze set at the 100-yard mode. 

Rooster blinked after a stretch, then groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You really let Hangman name the stakes?” 

“Relax, Rooster,” she said, bumping his arm lightly. “It’s just a game. Don’t be such a mother hen. I’m good at this.” 

He looked at her like she had just announced she was about to arm-wrestle a shark; climb Everest without oxygen; walk barefoot across a floor littered with broken glass and rusty nails.  “Yeah, except you know he’s gonna milk this for all it’s worth if he wins.” 

Ellie exhaled—she’d already considered the possibility, contemplated that if she underestimated him and lost, the favour she owed Jake wouldn’t be one she’d like. Still, she shrugged it off. “Good thing I don’t plan on losing.” 

Rooster muttered something under his breath about people who made reckless bets with smug pilots, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he clinked his beer bottle against hers. “Then you better wipe the floor with him.” 

Ellie grinned. “That’s the idea.” 

Rooster stepped up to the table as Jake removed the triangle, and disappeared from her line of vision, “if you’re breaking first, you’re going to want to—” 

The sound of a new song, loud and tune distinctive started overhead and both she and Rooster paused to look up. 

On the day I was born, the nurses all gathered 'round, and they gazed in wide wonder, at the joy they had found— 

Jake stood at the jukebox, grinning like he’d just won a jackpot. A tap on the machine—his lucky charm—then he turned, locking onto Ellie as he strolled back. 

The head nurse spoke up, Said, “Leave this one alone,” She could tell right away, That I was bad to the bone 

“Really?” she scoffed, stepping up to grab a cue from the rack on the wall behind him before she rolled her eyes. 

“Just setting the tone,” He took the Budweiser another pilot Ellie recognized as Lt. Javy “Coyote” Machado handed him and slowly took a sip, watching her steadily. 

“Yeah? And what tone is that?” 

Jake grinned, leaning a little closer like he was about to let her in on a secret. “That’s for you to decide.” He twisted his wrist, producing the cue ball and holding it out to her. 

Rooster snorted across the table. “Jesus, Seresin.” 

Coyote crossed his arms, smirking. “I got twenty bucks that says Hangman wins this one.” 

“Just twenty?” Phoenix stepped up beside Rooster as Ellie plucked the ball from Jake’s hand. “Doesn’t sound like you have much faith in Bagman. I’ll put fifty on my new best friend embarrassing him.”    Jake sucked his teeth as he picked up a cue of his own. “Trace, you wound me.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Anyone else want to bet against me?”    At a nearby high-top, Fanboy snorted, shaking his head, and Bob half-raised his hand.  

“You all really think she can take me?” 

Phoenix was already handing the bill to Coyote. Bob shifted on his stool, pulling out his wallet. “I think she’s about to embarrass you, and I, for one, am here for it.” 

Jake turned back to Ellie, leaning against his cue stick. “Alright then, Rigby. Let’s give the people what they want.” 

“No time like the present.” 

“Ladies first,” his smirk remained firmly in place. 

Ellie’s eyebrow quirked momentarily before she took a steadying breath and placed the cue ball on the table. She took her time chalking her cue as she studied, already quietly calculating angles, but her mind drifted for a moment.  

Wolfman had never let her win at anything, especially not pool. Neither had Slider or her dad. 

Not once. 

Between the three of them, she’d managed a grand total of two victories her entire life—one when Wolfman had been three drinks deep and too cocky for his own good, another when Slider had been too distracted trash-talking Mav to notice her creeping ahead.

It used to piss her off, losing over and over, until she started playing against other people and realized—oh. They’d been making her better. Pushing her. Every loss sharpening her instincts, every taunt stoking the fire in her belly. 

She planted her feet and lined up the shot. A clean stroke sent the cue ball crashing into the rack. The triangle shattered, and a striped ball dropped into the side pocket. She shifted position and sank another. 

Her next shot nudged a solid away from an easy pocket. 

Offense and defense go hand in hand, little Neven, Slider used to say, knocking her perfectly lined-up shots out of play. Focus too much on scoring, and you’ll hand your opponent the game. 

Jake let out a low whistle. But she saw it—the way his eyes flickered across the table, already calculating. A moment later, he lined up and sank two shots before missing his third. 

He straightened, offering her a slow, knowing wink. “Let’s see if you can keep up.” 

Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose. Not getting in my head, Seresin. She met his gaze, a smirk tugging at her lips. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Hangman.”  

The second she bent at the waist, lining up her shot, she felt it—the shift in him. 

Jake was moving around the table in a lazy orbit, slow and sure. She could feel his eyes on her and the heat creeping up her body. He’d clearly taken it as a personal challenge to wedge himself inside of her, any way he could. 

It wasn’t innocent. She knew it. Just like she knew what he was doing every time he called her Ace, when he’d sipped her coffee without asking, locking eyes like he was daring her to stop him. He was playing a game only they knew, moving to a beat only they could feel. 

As he approached, the brush of his gaze passed over her back where she could feel the gap between the hem of her tank, down the lines of her legs where her jeans hugged against her curves. She felt his gaze lingering somewhere decidedly publicly inappropriate before sliding back up. It was almost clinical, in that maddening way Ellie associated with him—assessing, measuring, like he was waiting to see if she’d react, waiting to see how far he could push her. 

Yet knowing what he was doing didn’t stop her from having to fight the feelings he kicked up; a growing heat coiling low in her abdomen, the fuzzy feeling that licked at the edges of her reasoning thoughts of him filling her mind like confetti snowing down from the rafters of her subconscious. 

Welcome to Masterclass, meet Jake Seresin. Today, he will be teaching you how to make your knees weak and think about his mouth way too much. 

She took a breath, pushing the distraction aside, sweeping away the shredded paper littering her thoughts, focusing on the shot. Just her, the cue ball, and— 

“Christ, Hangman, stop hovering. It’s cheating.” 

Rooster’s voice cut through her barely collected concentration, scattering her thoughts like a strong wind against a pile of raked leaves.  

Ellie let out a sharp exhale, straightening just as an argument kicked off to her left.

“Cheating? You think I’m using some kinda—what—telepathic distraction?” Jake scoffed, feigning offense as he leaned against his cue stick like he was above it all. “C’mon Rooster... have a bit of faith in your girl, here.”

Rooster wasn’t buying it. “You’re trying to distract her on purpose. It’s a cheap move.”

“Oh, please,” Jake snorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s not some rookie who’s gonna crack just ‘cause I happen to exist near the table.” 

“Nah. You happen to exist near her, not just the table,” Fanboy cut in, joining the fray, shaking his head animatedly. He was stepping in close to Jake now, invading his personal space, before stepping back and pointedly repeating his close step, “See, there’s a huge difference. You're hovering like a damn vulture while she’s trying to get a read on the shot.” 

Jake sighed as he leaned against his cue stick, but Ellie could hear the smile behind his voice, the look of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar passing over his face. “That’s slander.” 

“It’s not slander if it’s accurate,” Rooster shot back. 

“There’s no rule against existing around the table.” Coyote cut in, waving his hands from where he sat, “completely unbiased opinion, here.” 

“Oh sure,” Phoenix scoffed, “it’s got nothing to do with the fact you bet a clean $150 on your buddy here?” 

Ellie dragged a hand down her face, shaking her head, while the peanut gallery continued their debate over whether Hangman’s presence alone constituted cheating.

“You’re all giving me a headache,” she muttered, grabbing her beer, taking a sip and advantage of the well-timed break from her thoughts before shifting her focus back to the table. 

Jake, undeterred, leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping low enough for only her to hear. “You know, Rigby,” he murmured, eyes still gleaming with mischief, “if I am a distraction... you could always return the favour.” 

Over his words, Ellie could hear the argument ignited anew with Fanboy shouting “See!” and Coyote reaffirming, phone gripped in his hand, that there was not a rule on proximity between players. 

Ellie didn’t look at him, instead she reset her stance, her gaze refocused on the shot, but she couldn’t fight the shiver that rolled through her. His chuckle told her he’d seen. 

In response, she adjusted her shot quickly, pulled back—this time purposefully ramming her elbow into his ribs with enough force to make him grunt. She felt the slight recoil of his body, the subtle flinch, and the way his breath hitched for just a second before he recovered. 

 A smile threatened to crack her lips, but she bit it back, following through with her shot and sinking the striped ball into the far corner pocket without hesitation. 

When she stood again, he was rubbing his ribs, a quiet laugh escaping him as he straightened. “Well,” he drawled. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.” 

Ellie smirked, slow and victorious. “Guess you’re learning something new about me, then. Let’s call it a tactical adjustment.” 

The game had taken longer than Ellie had anticipated. She’d missed more shots than she cared to think about, but to her surprise, Jake wasn’t faring much better.  

The bets had stopped rolling in closer to the middle of the game, but occasionally, someone dared to add to the pot. 

Dutifully, Coyote announced the amount had hit $532. Since, there hadn’t been much chatter, just groans and murmurs when shots were taken and cheers when the person the gathered crowd bet to win sunk balls. 

Early, Ellie had pulled ahead. Jake hadn’t let her keep the lead for long though. His smart aleck remarks had died down when he settled into the competitive nature between them, his brow furrowed as he lined up shots, so he resembled more of the man in the photo on his personnel file.  

Jake’s eyes tracked her. He brushed against her arm—light, deliberate. The contact crackled.  

Ellie swallowed. “You’re in my way, Hangman.”  

He smirked, unbothered. 

Now, Ellie stared down the eight ball as she lapped the table for a second time. The music played in the background as she took a slow breath, forcing herself to block out the noise of the bar. 

One shot.

That’s all it would take. 

One shot and she’d have him beat. 

Halfway through her second pass she stopped, settling on the angle square in front of Jake. Rolling the chalk in her palm before she tipped it over the cue, Ellie let the practiced motion bring her an iota of calm before she moved into position.  

In that moment, her eyes beginning to focus on the ball and the far pocket she wanted to send it into, Ellie felt the air shift, just slightly. 

The scrape of a chair in the relatively quietened bar was easy to hear. Heavy boots on the floorboards. Then—  

“Careful now, Rigby. Hate to see you choke when the stakes are high.” 

Ellie’s grip tightened on the cue stick. She didn’t have to look up to recognize the voice—the easy drawl carried the kind of casual arrogance that made her skin crawl, barely veiled behind a Virginian twang. 

She stood just in time to see Teak shoulder his way to the front of the crowd gathered around the table. He wasn’t looking at her, not directly—his attention drifting lazily around the bar, like he had only just now taken notice of the game, like he wasn’t deliberately disrupting her focus when she just about had the game in the bag. 

“Course,” he added, finally flicking his gaze to Jake, who had taken up a relaxed posture near Coyote, arms folded across his chest. “I guess Hangman here don’t mind putting on a show. Get that pot nice and fat.” 

Ellie could feel the stiffness in her shoulders. Teak’s words were light, almost offhanded, as if it were a second thought, but she could hear what was really being said beneath them. The implication that Jake was letting her think she could win just to make a spectacle. 

Jake, to his credit, barely reacted. He let out a small, amused hum and tilted his head toward Teak. At his side, Coyote was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. 

“Appreciate the concern, Hughes,” Jake said easily, his response coming quickly. “But I gotta tell you—if I was throwing the game, I’d have done a better job losing.” 

A few people in the crowd chuckled. Teak’s mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but he let out a short breath and pushed off from the high-top table he’d been leaning against. 

“Ignore him,” Rooster shifted, his eyes sliding over to Teak for only a moment. If she were a boxer Ellie imagined that he might have pulled out a small stool, a dampened rag and patted her forehead, handing her a water bottle. “He’s looking to stir shit up.” 

She was trying, but she could feel Teak’s smirk, the weight of his stare, waiting for the moment she’d fold, flinch. Teak was every high school bully with something to prove, someone to put down. 

Ellie nodded at Rooster before turning back toward the table. Carefully, she set her stance. Blocked Teak out. Focused. 

One shot. 

She aimed. The eight ball caught the light overhead, and Ellie pulled her cue back. As the stick slid forward in her hand, smooth and sure, the cue ball cracked against the eight ball aimed for the corner pocket—

—and just nudged the edge of the pocket before rolling away.  

A miss, by just a breadth.

The noise that followed was immediate. A mix of groans and murmurs, a few low whistles, some hisses. Someone muttered “damn” under their breath.

Ellie straightened; her eyes locked on the corner pocket where the ball had veered just off course by a fraction. She didn’t move. 

Didn’t react. 

She inhaled, slow and steady, forcing the heat of her frustration down before it could rise to the surface. Losing was part of the game. She’d learned to take it in stride, to tip her head and say good game like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t sink its teeth in and linger. But no matter how many times she’d lost before, she couldn’t remember the last time it felt like this. 

Still, she wouldn’t give Teak the pleasure of showing it. 

Jake stepped forward, lined up his shot, and sank it without hesitation—no mistake. 

A clean win. 

He straightened, rolling his shoulders loose, and this time, when his gaze found hers, there was only the quiet satisfaction of a victory earned. 

Ellie met his eyes, then gave him a sharp nod, a tight smile. “Good game, Seresin.” 

She turned and passed her cue to Rooster, then reached for the last sip of her beer. Only then did she let her fingers tighten slightly around the bottle, let herself take a steadying breath. She didn’t need to look at Teak. Didn’t need to see whatever smug amusement he was probably wearing like a second skin. Ellie would let him think what he wanted, btu she wouldn’t give him the reaction he was hoping for. 

As Ellie set the empty bottle down, Phoenix clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Hell of a game, Rigby,” she said, giving her a small shake. 

Bob nodded in agreement, offering her an encouraging smile, his large-framed glasses magnifying the sincerity in his eyes. “You had him sweating there for a second.” 

Fanboy, always one to keep things light, grinned. “Pretty sure half the bar was rooting for you. Next time, make him work for it a little more, yeah?” 

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head before she turned back to Jake. “Guess that means I owe you a drink.” 

Jake smirked, stepping aside to let her pass. “Careful now. I might start thinking you actually like me.” 

Ellie didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, just rolled her eyes and started toward the bar, weaving through the lingering crowd. It wasn’t until she reached the counter, resting her elbows on the polished wood, that she allowed herself to breathe. 

She could feel it still—Teak’s words, the weight of his presence, the way they clung like a shadow even now. 

But he wouldn’t see that. Not if she could help it.  

Some of the crowd had drifted toward the pool tables, others toward the booths lining the far side of the room now that the game was over. Ellie waved at the bartender, signaling for two drinks before she leaned against the bar, her elbows braced against the polished wood.  

She could still feel the annoyance blistering just under the surface. Not at losing—she could handle that—but at missing. At letting Teak get under her skin with only a few words, both said and unsaid. 

She felt the brush of leather on her arm as someone moved to stand beside her and before she turned her head, she knew. 

“Not going to lie. Thought you’d take off after that embarrassing miss,” Teak drawled, his tone smug. “Figured you’d be licking your wounds somewhere quiet.” 

Ellie didn’t move to give him more space, accepting a glass of whiskey as Penny slid two across to her. “Still here. Guess that means I'm tougher than you thought.” 

Some small, smug part of her wanted to tell Teak that he wasn’t as intimidating as he thought he was. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the first pilot to try to make her feel like she was an outsider, a woman in a man’s world. She wanted so badly to tell him that if he was trying to push her out, he’d have to try harder. Instead, she kept quiet, took a sip of her whiskey and bit the inside of her cheeks. 

Teak huffed a laugh, leaning in, his elbow sliding across the bar to nudge hers, jostling the glass in her grip slightly. “Or maybe just too stubborn to take the hint.” 

Ellie turned to face him before she could stop herself, leveling him with a stare. “That supposed to mean something?” 

“Only that some people don’t know when they’re outmatched.” He gave her a smirk, his eyes flicking down, lingering just a beat too long and then finding their way back to lock onto hers. “But hey, I like that in a woman.” 

Ellie’s fingers tightened around her glass, but she kept her expression neutral. 

If ick were a person, she was certain it would be Teak. 

“Good for you,” she said flatly, shaking her head as if trying to ask if his criteria for a woman he would be interested in was supposed to mean something to her. 

Teak ignored the disinterest in her voice and pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his pocket, sliding it across the bar toward her. 

“Tell you what,” he said. “Here, for the drink. Consider it a consolation prize.” 

Ellie barely spared it a glance before pushing it back toward him stiffly. “I don’t take handouts. Thanks.” 

Teak chuckled, slow and self-satisfied, before flicking the bill right back at her, the bill fluttered momentarily, landing on her forearm. “Keep it, sweetheart. I insist. Buy yourself something pretty. Might make losing a little easier to swallow.” 

She had already turned to face Teak, her whole body shifting as her skin prickled, heart beat loud in her ears, before she knew what she was doing. She had just opened her mouth to speak when a firm clap landed on Teak’s shoulder. 

Jake. 

Ellie stared Teak down, unblinking as Jake shook Teak slightly, his vibe decidedly buddy-buddy. She hated to admit it, but his presence alone was a relief, a splash of cold water on a hot surface. 

“Don’t think you’ll have much luck with Rigby, Hughes,” Jake said, his voice easy, like the set of his shoulders didn’t suggest he was already gearing up to yank Teak away from the bar by the scruff of his leather jacket. Jake’s eyes flicked up to catch Ellie’s and it was enough to shake her out of her murderous trance. “I’ve been tryin’ all week.” 

Teak let out a laugh, though it sounded forced. “That right? Guess I’ll leave it to you then.” He slid away from the bar, tossing a glance between Ellie and Jake before he added, almost as an afterthought, a swipe. “Taming of the shrew and all that. Good luck, Seresin.” 

She’d already turned back to the bar, sliding the second whiskey over to the spot Teak had vacated, when Jake slipped in beside her, shoulder to shoulder. 

“Surprised you know enough about Shakespeare to reference it,” she said, only a murmur, mostly under her breath and into her glass. 

Jake let out a low chuckle, tossing a look over his shoulder. “I don’t think he heard that, Ace,” he said, picking up his glass. “You’d better call him back over so he can take his insult like a man.” 

Ellie shot him a dry look. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” 

After a beat of silence, Ellie pushed the crisp hundred-dollar bill toward him. “I think that’s yours,” she said. 

Jake glanced at it, then at her, one brow ticking up. A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. 

“You trying to pay me off, Rigby?” 

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “Not a chance,” she said, then tilted her head, considering. “Besides, I think it’d take more than that to make you forget I owe you a favour now.” 

Jake let out a small chuckle, taking the bill and, without hesitation, stuffed it straight into the tip jar behind the bar. The bartender, catching the movement, shot him a surprised look, but Jake just lifted his drink in acknowledgment. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, lifting her own glass. 

“Show-off,” she muttered, struggling to keep the smirk off her lips. 

Jake grinned. “Always.” 

After a beat, Jake broke the silence. 

“Thought you were supposed to wipe the floor with me?” 

“I think both you and I know that I would have.” Ellie raised her eyebrow at him, shaking her head. “If it wasn’t for Teak. You set something up with him earlier?” 

Jake only shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he set his glass down. “Still won, you know.” 

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head as she stepped up to the bar. “I almost had you.” 

Jake’s grin widened, slow and infuriating. “A win is a win. You know what they say about almosts—horseshoes and hand grenades, Rigby.” 

Ellie shook her head, but she couldn’t quite stop the amused huff that slipped out. “You would say that.” 

“Damn right, I would.” 

She let her eyes flick over to the pool table, where her cue stick rested against the edge before Bob gathered it up and Phoenix set the table for a new game. “You got lucky. Next time, I’m not going to let you distract me.” 

Jake lifted a brow, the waves of confidence that rolled off of him almost contagious. “Darlin’, if I distracted you, that sounds like a you problem.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes, turning back toward the bar. “I think I’ll need another drink if I’m going to keep listening to all this trash-talk.” 

Jake laughed, low and pleased, as she raised a hand to signal Penny— 

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jacket and without thinking, fished it out. 

She barely glanced down before she saw the contact’s name, glowing stark against the dark screen. 

Dad. 

The name on the screen was small, unassuming. But it hit her like a gut punch. 

The small ease she’d allowed herself—the quiet space she’d let herself slip into, without pressure, without expectancies, the one where she was just Ellie, and this was just a bar with co-workers—collapsed in an instant. 

Reality came rushing back in, sharp-edged and relentless, filling the space where her ease had been like cold water flooding from a broken dam. 

The music faded. The laughter blurred. The warmth of the Hard Deck, the press of bodies, the lingering, teasing glances from Hangman—all of it dimmed beneath the weight of that name. 

Ellie let the call ring out, her eyes still stuck on the screen that blinked up at her from her hand. It rang twice more before the screen went dark. Her fingers curled subtly against the bar, a small anchor, a way to keep herself here instead of wherever that call wanted to pull her. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d let it go to voicemail. Wouldn’t be the last. 

She exhaled slowly, blinking hard, forcing herself to shake it off. But she had the sense that Jake noticed. His silence was enough to tell her as much. 

That for all his cocky, easygoing bravado, he was sharper than most gave him credit for. That he saw something shift in her, saw the tension lock into place where ease had been just moments before. 

But he didn’t say a word. 

Didn’t ask. 

Didn’t push. 

The silence between them stretched, taut but unspoken. She could still feel the phone in her hand, the phantom weight of it even after she slipped it into her pocket. 

She reached for her jacket, shaking it out, slipping it on with steady hands that she wasn’t sure felt as steady as they looked. 

“Calling it a night?” Jake’s voice was light, but his gaze wasn’t. 

She nodded, already stepping away. “Yeah. See you around, Hangman.” 

She didn’t wait for his response. 

Didn’t look back. 

She just stepped out into the cool night air, inhaled deep, and let the door swing shut behind her—like that could keep the past from following her outside. 

a/n: i have protective jake kink. ask me how much i fucking love him sticking it to teak subtly. also, i can't wait to write out the next few chapters. so so much planned.

if you love this series, reblog, comment, like!

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[bayleavesfromthevine]

What's your top 5 windbreaker characters!

Oooo! I love this question! 1. Kaji - He's my absolute favorite in the series. There's something so emotional about watching him struggle and fail time and time again via his backstory & chapters 123-129. We're introduced to him as someone similar to Sakura, only more realized in his role as grade captain & in Furin as a whole, but then we're slowly shown the lowest moments of his life and how he's worked to come back from them.

He quite literally hates himself (or has hated himself in the past) and yet he still chooses to have trust in his friends when they tell him that they don't view him the same way that he views himself. I also appreciate how that support/"the power of friendship" didn't automatically "fix" all of his insecurities, but rather they're something that he still grapples with on the daily & that the support he's received gives him the space, confidence, and safety net to work on himself. It's realistic and makes him feel like he still has so much room for growth.

I also think it's beautiful how he tries to mentor Sakura so that he doesn't make the same mistakes Kaji made, or fall into the same mindset he did the year before. You can really tell that he's trying to impart all of Hiragi's teachings onto Sakura and it's such a heartwarming way to watch a character pay it forward.

(I have a HC that Kaji's blinding rage episodes are the result of a brain injury/head trauma that he sustained from a fight during his childhood. Someone please take him to a doctor for some scans, I beg.)

Also, I'm adding a cut here because this is a long one lol

2. Tsubaki - (For the record, in my heart Tsubaki is she/her, but the series uses he/him pronouns so I'll use that for the sake of clarity and to not cause confusion.)

Tsubaki is quite literally everything and honestly we need a spin-off manga where he's the protagonist. Tsubaki quite literally steals EVERY scene he's in, I cannot be bothered with other characters whenever he's on the page and I cannot wait until he's animated. The fashion? The pole-dancing?? The being in love with Ume??? I hope they end up together in the end, that's the only ship I really want to become canon (for context, I usually don't like when ships become canon because then ship wars and arguments happen and it ruins all the fun lmao).

Also, the way that Tsubaki's theme of living in a way that is truthful to yourself & not trying to suppress who you really are (i.e. gender expression) is juxtaposed with Suzuri's theme of wealth inequality and obtaining basic human needs (i.e. food & things that make life worth living) is beautiful to me because having them see eye-to-eye and relate to each other in the end is ultimately (in my interpretation) the author saying that even though these two themes look vastly different from each other, they are both basic human rights and they are both necessary to be alive. Like, their arc was political as fuck and I was SO moved by it. I should probably go into that more and bring in specific examples at some point because I know I didn't do that great of a job explaining it lol.

Also, Tsubaki's fights are incredible like? pop off girlie, eviscerate a man in your high heels as a treat, you deserve it <3

3. Sakura - MY SON. MY BOY. MY FERAL CAT CHILD.

Sakura is such a great protagonist. His development is slow and authentic, which speaks to how well he's written, and his history is so mysterious. There's so much that we don't know about him and I'm thoroughly enjoying having information revealed little by little. Not only does it give us the chance to theorize about him and who he was before enrolling in Furin, but it also (to me) reads as a trauma response. We spend most of the series in his POV and him not revealing his backstory is indicative of his unwillingness to recall it. We only get flashes of his past when they're relevant and paired with how that trauma is starting to heal in his new circumstances (i.e. remembering his lonely summer vacations in the past as he's about to go to the beach with his friends. Or explaining how isolated he felt via that tightrope analogy just as he realizes that he doesn't need to live that way anymore & can safely exist with others who care for him).

I love seeing how he grows to care for others and empathize with them. He's so different now than he was in the beginning of the series and I just wanna give him all the hugs.

4. Umemiya - Ume's philosophy about food is my favorite theme in the entire series: food tastes better when you eat with your loved ones & we are all made up of the foods we eat and the people we meet. (At some point, I also wanna write about how the theme of food plays into the story, but today is not that day.) It reminds me of this quote I read forever ago from one of those Michael Pollan books LOL: “Cooking is all about connection, I've learned, between us and other species, other times, other cultures (human and microbial both), but, most important, other people. Cooking is one of the more beautiful forms that human generosity takes; that much I sort of knew. But the very best cooking, I discovered, is also a form of intimacy.” ― Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation

Also this: “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.” ― Hippocrates

I love how he uses food as a means to connect people and build his family. I would love to see him have a genuine conversation with Suzuri at some point.

My biggest fear with Ume is that, because of his role at Furin, at some point he's going to have to be removed (either by graduating and leaving on good terms, or via some crazy action conflict). The series is very calm right now, and even when there are enemies, we all know that Ume is only a phone call away. But removing him would destabilize everything we've grown attached to thus far. So much hinges on him just being present, which is part of why I adore him so much as a character.

5. Suo - Suo is a little fucker and I love him to the moon and back. He's so respectfully disrespectful in the most hilarious of ways and I cannot wait to know more about his backstory. Is it probably the most tragic out of everyone's? Yes. Am I ready for it? No. Do I still need to know it right tf now? Also yes.

It has been pointed out how Suo never eats with the others, which definitely connects to Ume's/the series' broader themes about food and eating together as a means to build community. Suo does feel the most emotionally distant out of everyone, clearly hiding something, and I imagine that the moment when we finally see him eating with the rest of the cast will be intensely emotional.

Also, I'm probably wrong about this, but I do NOT think that motherfucker has anything wrong with his right eye. I think he wears that eyepatch to mess with people, as is his right. I support his gremlin nature.

For the record, if we knew more about Kotoha, she'd be on this list because I absolutely adore her. She also compliments the main themes of the series and expresses them through a non-Furin perspective, which tbh I think this series needs more of. I think we need to see more of the town/community that our beloved main characters fight so hard to protect, especially when it comes to moving the plot/Sakura's development along. (This series also needs more women, but I digress LOL)

[endlesslyhyperfixating]

Oh, Carmy, Carmy, Carmy. The man who can turn a beef sandwich into a Michelin-worthy masterpiece but can't seem to manage his own mental health. Season three of *The Bear* has been a rollercoaster of culinary highs and personal lows, with Carmy spiraling into the very chaos he once sought to escape. But then, in the season three finale, enter Chef Terry—Andrea Terry, if you will—a beacon of wisdom in a sea of culinary turmoil.

As Ever's doors prepare to close, Chef Terry imparts a nugget of wisdom to Carmy: "You have no idea what you're doing, and therefore, you're invincible." At first glance, it might sound like a chef's version of a pep talk gone awry. But let's break it down, shall we?

Throughout the season, Carmy has been haunted by the ghost of Chef David Fields, his former mentor who believed in the "tough love" — or realistically more like abusive — approach to culinary excellence. Fields' methods left Carmy with ulcers, panic attacks, nightmares, trauma doomed to be repeated in an abusive cycle, and a fun memory of the chefs general disdain for black pepper. In contrast, Chef Terry embodies a nurturing spirit, emphasizing the importance of people over perfection. Her mantra, "Every Second Counts," isn't about relentless pressure; it's about cherishing the moments and the people who make them meaningful. The BACKSTORY of her famous mantra is even tender and born in sweetness and family, a start difference to what was Carmy's experience with Chef Fields.

By telling Carmy he's invincible because he doesn't have it all figured out, Chef Terry is giving him permission to embrace uncertainty. She's encouraging him to let go of the need for control and perfection, to trust his instincts, and to lead with empathy rather than fear. This is the antithesis of the Carmy we've seen in season three—a man so consumed by the pursuit of excellence that he alienates those around him, and begins to lose himself in the middle of his unprocessed trauma through the only thing he knows which is working the human away.

"The more people I cut out, the quieter my life got"

Okay, my self isolating king!

But lets take, for instance, his interactions with Sydney. Instead of fostering a collaborative environment, as he often claims this season, Carmy often undermines her, believing his way is the only way. It's not how it starts in season two and the beginning of season three however, where they work shopped the menu together (despite his changing it everyday [🙄])This dynamic leads to tension and missed opportunities for growth. Chef Terry's advice serves as a wake-up call for him: it's okay not to have all the answers. In fact, embracing the unknown can lead to unexpected brilliance.

Richie has done to understand and he's tried to embrace in his own personal journey, and that difference in character is also what's keeping their divide all season, their serious lack of communication causing a strain in their relationship. But the strains present because they do truly love each other(this is a rant for another day)

I digress, this season concludes with a cliffhanger—Carmy's reaction to a seemingly mixed review from the Chicago Tribune—it's clear that change is on the horizon. Chef Terry's words are a catalyst for Carmy's evolution. They signal a shift from a leader driven by fear and perfectionism to one who leads with heart and humility. This transformation is essential for the survival and success of The Bear.

Not only chef Terry's words, but I believe and hope that when he finds out about SYDNEYS OFFER from Shapiro.

Ooph, oh boy that'll be a wake up call.

In essence, Chef Terry's parting words are a gift—a reminder that vulnerability and imperfection are not weaknesses but strengths. For Carmy, embracing this philosophy could be the key to unlocking not only his potential but also the true essence of what it means to be a chef.

Terry's vulnerability and tenderness is similar to Sydney's all throughout the series, especially season three(even referring back to the first episode when she encourages him to call Richie to make things right between them. The relationship that matters. Not Claire.)

If and (hopefully) when Carm finds out about Sydneys potential leaving, this will be a real pushing point for him to out into action Terry's words, realize that his control and repeated cycle of everything he's been through needs to change.

Just as Syd expressed early on in season one, The a bear became the very thing she wanted to escape from. People yelling and pushing, the constant chaos of what their industry is. And she and Carm both knew and still know that it can be different.

And Sydney has that opportunity with Shapiro, but Carmy will totally freak without her to enact that change.

Phew.

Anyways, I can't wait to see the post-review chaos, and hopefully some real growth on Carmy's end.

Season four, anyone?

[siflshonen]

The Greatest Robot on Earth: Astro Boy and Pluto Part III

Part I is here. Part II, where the manga comparisons start, is here. The entire set of slides and text is also available on Ao3.

Pluto as Urasawa’s Own Work

Given Tezka's core instruction, I don’t find it surprising that Urasawa Urasawa’d the ever-lovin’ shit out of Atom, because I’d recognize the similarities between Atom’s snail scene and Monster’s moth scene all the way from outer space! But where Milos chose to crush the moth in his despair and disillusionment regarding the nature of new life and procreation and how his mom never wanted him, Atom controlled his hatred and comforted Ochanomizu despite his own agony. (Note to the Monster fans: Wolfgang Grimmer's contrasting attitude towards the moth is analogous to Atom's in that he makes the choice not to lose his interest in the things that make him human like Roberto/Adolph Reinhardt, his friend from Kinderheim 511 who loved insects, or destroy it in fury like Milos.)

Atom’s furious anti-proton bomb equation and breakout followed by his swift internal denial to give into his violent urges isn’t just a callback to “Astro Reborn” wherein Tenma “turned Atom evil”—it’s a dramatic way for Urasawa to assert that, while he does have it in him to become one, Atom is not a monster.

Grimmer’s rediscovery and acceptance of his own humanity in this scene would also allow him to be right at home with the ennui of Pluto, too, I must say.

It shouldn’t even be a little bit surprising that Urasawa chose to have Gesicht, called Gerhardt in “The Greatest Robot on Earth”, feature as the initial primary character. His detailed research and love for Germany begged for new life after Monster, and dear Gesicht and his beautiful wife Helene are the perfect outlet.

“The Greatest Robot on Earth”’s Gerhardt made a house call to visit Atom, was made of a zeronium alloy, and shot special bullets, it’s true, but I think anyone who asserted that he is identical to Pluto’s Gesicht would be kidding themselves.

In his postscript essay, Murakami posited that, as a counterpoint to Tenma and Ochanomizu reflecting two sides of Osamu Tezuka, Atom and Pluto embodied Urasawa’s push-pull struggle with his feelings towards the late master and his work. Well, I think if that can be true, so can the notion that Gesicht is the closest thing Urasawa has to an embodiment of his own adult self’s creations and work while Atom is the echo of Tezuka as he exists in Urasawa’s perceptions as well as the the avatar of what inspired him to pursue manga. 

Gesicht may have died in the story, but not before imparting the core of his being to Atom in order to reach a new level of mutual understanding and revive the then-out-of-commission Atom with a fury and passion so strong that it could not be ignored. Atom with the memories and heart of Gesicht is Urasawa and Tezuka both existing as one, and blasting off towards the future.

Or maybe I’m just waxing poetic. We could cook this tomato using multiple methods, but it would still come out as the same kind of pasta sauce in the end.

Adolf Haas is a particularly interesting Tezuka case study because he doesn’t really have anything to do with the original “The Greatest Robot on Earth”. Instead, he and his brother appear to be the product of putting all the primary characters from Tezuka’s Message to Adolf in a blender. See? I told you I’d get back to Message to Adolf.

Message to Adolf, considered Tezuka's last complete long-running work, is the story of how the existence of documents supporting a particular rumor—that Adolf Hitler has Jewish blood—tears the lives of Sohei Toge, a Japanese sports reporter who finds himself with a target on his back while investigating the murder of his communist brother; Adolf Kaufmann, a Japanese-German boy born in Japan who begins the series pure and heroic but is corrupted by the indoctrination of the Third Reich; and Kaufmann’s childhood friend Adolf Kamil, an Ashkenazi Jew living in Japan who later joins the Israeli-Lebanese Conflict and perpetuates the story’s cycle of vengeance and violence, into itty, bitty, bloody pieces. Only Toge survives to the end.

The story of Adolf Haas’ bid for vengeance in Pluto touches on details from all these characters’ stories, but unlike the Adolfs in Message to Adolf, he has a chance to put his hatred to rest and continue to live on with his family. He even has top-secret information about a dictator on his computer that he didn’t initially realize was crucial to maintaining or destroying the political status quo.

Adolf also gets his very own Monster-esque, “Whatcha gonna kill with that gun?” moment, which I find incredibly funny.

But the character that Urasawa arguably most made his own is Pluto (sometimes called Bruton in certain dubs) himself. At first, he is hidden throughout much of Pluto like a monster or serial killer in any self-respecting thriller/horror while in Astro Boy, the audience meets him right off the bat and learns that a sultan built him to kick the metal butts of the world’s seven most advanced robots. But Pluto’s Pluto isn’t just hiding his monstrous form—he is also hiding the fact that he isn’t really Pluto, but Abullah's robot son Sahad trapped in a new body.

If you’ve read Monster, you likely noticed immediately that Sahad is Monster’s Karl Neumann/Schuwald (make his nose smaller and Japanese-ify him, and he’s suspiciously similar to Billy Bat’s Kevin Yamagata!) For those that don’t know Karl, it’s his lot in life to be totally caught up in daddy angst until an ethereal blonde or silver-haired guy reaches out to him and knocks over the dominoes to allow change into his life one way or another.

In Monster, Johan is favored over Karl by rich sunuvabitch Hans Georg Schuwald, Karl’s (unknowing) biological father, and it is assumed he sees Johan in more of a son/heir capacity than the fuck-up Karl. Shit ensues, Johan dramatically eliminates the possibility of him becoming Schuwald’s son or heir, but he lets Schuwald live so that he and Karl can reconcile.

In Pluto, Sahad is only able to destroy Epsilon because Epsilon basically forfeits. This does not solve his problem, but Epsilon manages to see him for who he is, communicates this with Atom (sort of), and opens the door for Sahad to regain his sense of self and shake free of his father’s will. Yay!

Ok, so Brau-1589 is the most fun Easter egg in Pluto. He’s a Hannibal Lecter-ified Blue Knight. His open bloodthirst has increased tenfold in comparison to his Astro Boy portrayal, but that’s definitely the shape-shifter Blue Bon lying there in ruins.

Finally, the last big, giant, and noticeable new thing Urasawa added was the United States of Thracia’s open, by-name involvement in the story’s plot and conflict. Personally, I think it was rather gentle of Urasawa to not just blast the USA by name, but I suppose as a monolith, USAmericans are fragile and sensitive and Tezuka Productions still wanted to sell this manga in the states.

Dr. Roosevelt, as well as the teddy bear face and mouth for the supercomputer may actually be an Umataro Tenma creation. The Pluto manga began serialization in 2003 as part of a concentrated “birthday celebration” series of reworks of the original Astro Boy—you see, in-story, Atom was “born” in April 2003 (source: I know this as a fan.)

The 2003 Astro Boy anime, produced by Tezuka Productions (which I mention only because it means that Makoto Tezka likely knew all about the details of the series throughout planning and production), premiered on April 6, 2003. The series introduces the cute and manipulative bea-chan, or micro bears, one of many Tenma-adjacent creations (Tenma’s robot clone made them using plans originally created by Tenma, okay? It’s complicated) used for nefarious purposes, in an episode that premiered in Japan on September 21, 2003. These bears’ MO is basically to manipulate and socially isolate people and get them to do whatever they want, which is basically the same thing Dr. Roosevelt does.

Pluto’s first chapter came out in Big Comic Original on September 5, 2003, but its story was completed well in advance under supervision from Makoto Tezuka. The Dr. Roosevelt supercomputer and bear may be related somehow to the micro bears, which are a known Tenma creation in the extended Astro Boy universe.

What I’m saying is that Tenma was so sloppy that he caused the Gulf War. Look at the red string on this corkboard. I’m not crazy.

Beyond Pluto

What’s Next?

Nothing! Go read Monster or something!

Anyway, here are the sources for the stuff on my slides in case you need them.

[superdoctorpotter-head]

your url sucks and you should literally stop being into hp right now if you give a fuck about trans life

I keep thinking about the post about not trusting anyone who hasn’t acknowledged their capacity for evil, I think it gets at the heart of the lesson we could be learning from who that bitch has become, which is that no matter how open, compassionate, and accepting we think we are, it is vital that we check in with ourselves to assess new ideas and beliefs we develop as we get older. I think this knee-jerk reaction of “well JKR believes these things because she’s a bad person, I’m not a bad person, so I could never be susceptible to believing such horrible things!” is how one would start to condition themselves into thinking that they are above influences like fear propaganda, and that is a very dangerous road to go down.

I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch to say that she taught my generation to recognize bigotry and intolerance, which is why the person that she’s become feels like such a betrayal. If there is a message we are supposed to take from the series as a whole it is that even in a world were magic exists, love is still the most powerful force in existence, and if you don’t understand, or value that, you will be left with hatred as your guiding principle, which breeds this idea that you are better than other people for reasons as inane as your heritage and bloodline, and you will be set on a path that ends with you being something less than human as a direct result of your choices. That's still a message I can get behind, and I truly believe the person who imparted those values onto 12 year old me would be horrified if she could see the person she’s become.

Anyways, if all this is hard to swallow coming from the mouth of a cishet dude, then… understandable, so here’s a post from a trans person saying what I think amounts to more or less the same thing, here’s a HP podcast episode with a trans man guest who’s attitude can be summed up by “fuck her, but she’s never going to be able to take away my love of the books,” and here’s another podcast episode taking the time to denounce her, and who eventually donated all their profits to funding trans people’s transition goals to completion.

[merryfortune]

to hold a candle for a past flame

August 16th: Reincarnation/Reencounter | Circus | Historical AU

Title: to hold a candle for a past flame

Ship: Entrustshipping | Kiku/Takeru

Series: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,525

Tags: Angst, Character Death, Mid-Canon, Duel Monster Spirits Are Real, Supernatural Elements

   Takeru was keeping secrets lately and that worried Kiku but… He wasn’t the only one. So was she.

   Honestly, if this wasn’t her lived experience, Kiku wasn’t sure if she would believe her either. It seemed like a severe case of middle school syndrome but it wasn’t. 

   For proof, aside from her memories, she had been having nightmares for as long as she could remember about a wartorn desert with havoc wreaked through it and a fire engulfed, she could feel that smog inside her lungs and the panic that it instilled. She wasn’t making it up, Kiku swears that she is not making it up and not only her mind remembered but her body, too. 

   Nonetheless, because of the stigma, Kiku was certain if she ever told Takeru what weighed on her mind, she would not be believed. It broke her heart but she was certain. Her good, sweet, kind, silly, goofy Takeru who had been with her through thick and thin may very well turn on her and called her a liar for this because he simply would not remember. 

   But she did.

   Takeru had been part of her existence before she could articulate what she could remember. What had begun in a lifetime before them both and continued to burn on inside of her regardless of what she did. If she tried to ignore it or otherwise block it out.

   For you see, Kiku was, very genuinely, one of the rare few who recalled a lifetime from before her own. She was an instance of transdimensional reincarnation.

   In another life, in a previous life, she had lived a long and storied journey as the Valkyria Knight.

   Kiku vividly recalled the harsh training and harsher conditions of that other world, the Monster World. A spiritual plane filled to the brim with monsters and was fraught with danger, an ever cycling push and pull of good versus evil, embroiled in violence where strength was justice. But she, even then, as a little girl, aspired to something better, something kinder, and she honed those ideals alongside the art of war, of swordsmanship and strategy.

   Even now, in this life, her present life, Kiku had been drawn towards martial arts. Hence how she and Takeru’s families became involved at all when they had been children in pre-kindergarten sports but kendo was more clearly her calling than judo. Even as a human child, Kiku showed promise with the bamboo sword as she recalled and drew upon her previous life’s recollection for this new skill. 

   But a fake sword wasn’t as thrilling, or gratifying, as a fake sword. Not to mention, her prodigal markings quickly made her a tall poppy so Kiku dropped the interest but not her interest in Takeru as there was more to her previous story.

   There had been a man. Her lover and her husband, the man who was supposed to have been father of her eventual children. Her army’s commander, their brilliant hero who was going to usher in a glorious and more prosperous, peaceful era: the valiant Phoenix Gearfried. 

   And Kiku was certain, she could still feel that spark - that flame - in Homura Takeru.

   Their love story in that previous life had ended in tragedy. It was as the saying went. The good always died young and Phoenix Gearfried had died in Kiku’s arms- no, Valkyria Knight’s arms and he had looked up unto her and gave her one last mission, “Please, my love, protect me, for the rest of your days.”

   His dying words imparted a mission upon her and Kiku was nothing if not a woman of her word.

   She always was. As a child, as Valkyria Knight. She was serious and earnest, an old soul, and Kiku wanted to serve her lord-husband until the end of her days. Whether it was as Valkyria Knight or as Kamishirakawa Kiku. That was her destiny.

   Though perhaps it was more like a curse.

   Because she knew.

   And no one else did, least of all the youth whom she was certain was her twin flame, Phoenix Gearfried.

   It made sense, perhaps. Their previous life’s love story had ended in tragedy because it had begun in ill. Intercrual fraternising was a taboo even in that other world and Phoenix Gearfried did not want to be distracted from his own mission but she, Valkyria Knight, made him soft.

   Kiku held onto those precious memories of various kisses in the soft, late afternoon sunlight, or holding hands under the tables during war meetings, and more interactions snuck in between their efforts during the campaign. Even now, they made her heart swell but they brought tears to her eyes too due to being so bittersweet. 

   If only Takeru remembered, if only…

   At first, Kiku thought maybe their reincarnation alongside each other in a dreamy beachside town had been a blessing. That it was the gods' ways of apologising that their first lives together as Monsters had gone so awry. That made sense as they were once again brought together by a passion for athleticism, of bettering themselves and their bodies but then things changed.

   The… Incident happened.

   Maybe if it hadn’t happened, the outcome of a hypothetical confession of such cosmic proportions would be different…

   Takeru’s not so safe return from the clutches of such heinous events reignited the fire inside of Kiku: she had to protect him. That was her duty as Phoenix Siegfried’s second-in-command and sergeant but he was a very different boy compared to before.

   He now hated Duel Monsters, he hated Duelling and his once favourite cards of Phoenix Siegfried and Valkyria Knight, and the rest of their fiery armada, were now amongst his most hated things.

   Not once had Kiku ever seen Phoenix Siegfried so rattled. 

   She had seen Phoenix Siegfried storm into battle, fight back when surrounded. He did not endure duress, he thrived in it. He always burned brighter than the fires of conflict around him. Kiku could say much the same of Takeru who looked only after he leapt, who never cried over skinned knees and whose favourite place was the highest part of the jungle gym.

   So to see him so scared, it harrowed Kiku to the very last specks of stardust in her soul. Worse still, she wasn’t allowed to know why. There had never been secrets between her and Takeru: merely pinkie promises that had yet to end in a needle in either of their eyes. Same for Phoenix Siegfried and Valkyria Knight. 

   Yet here they were. Frozen out from another by adults who could not begin to fathom what Kiku knew. It broke her heart then and ten years later, it broke her heart again because something had changed. She was certain something had changed. The way the headwind blew over the ocean, the sparkle in Takeru’s eye.

   There was something new. Renewed. Reincarnated, even but Kiku was still not allowed to know and that made her howl in agony. She was supposed to be Takeru’s confidant, his strongest soldier but instead, she was pushed away. The menial, instead, was pushed onto her.

   That night… Against the bullies… Kiku had not been at Takeru’s side but her card had been in his deck and that mattered close enough, she supposed. That was when the switch was flipped but cardboard was a far cry from flesh and blood so she didn’t know what entailed in said duel. Just that she had been summoned there, she could feel it, every hack and slash, every attack from the depths of Takeru’s soul.

   He had no idea how he had shone, how his past life was reinvigorating him.

   But afterwards, in the morning light, something changed. He had a new deck. One that his old cards and old life were a part of. Something sparkling and new in the sunlight. He would go on to battle with it over and over again and in places as far flung as the big smoke, like Den City.

   Kiku was superficially gladdened that Takeru had direction again. Who wouldn’t be? Except it saddened her. She still wasn’t allowed to know. Takeru was still keeping secrets about what had fundamentally changed him. She just knew that it did, she could hear it in his voice and the way his passion rippled through.

   To not know was worse than knowing, Kiku was certain.

   Especially when her precognition unto Phoenix Siegfried, and by extension, Takeru, led her to the conclusion that something was wrong. Something dire had happened. She could just feel it a la an extrasensory perception and that rattled her. 

   A fearsome battle. Life versus oblivion. A fire extinguished, a gale blew. Kiku got flashes of something beyond her comprehension of how she understood life in superstitions and the supernatural. Grand duels of violent delights which with snuff of extinction. Who? Why? Oh, Takeru, please… Please! Allow her, your darling Valkyria Knight, to aid you in this time of complete crisis.

   She could only sob uncontrollably in her room as she knew - just knew - that she needed to be by Takeru’s side as his sword yet was miles, no, worlds away from him. 

[reginrokkr]

✦ @guhamun asked: ღ ( a teeny tiny what if from neuvi for the holiday )

One of the things that every long-living being experiences if they encountered the joy of another's presence is the sorrow of solitude. No matter if divine or adeptus, if humans that transcended or were forced into immortality by divine's injustice command, everyone has experienced a hollow deep-rooted in their being that gives way to longing. Some may know what this longing pertains to, others may never out of a lack of knowledge on their own feelings. That is, if they ever acknowledge them to begin with.

In the centuries that followed their first meeting, Dáinsleif has learned that even the mighty dragons can experience the weight of solitude through his observations of one of them forced to live in the prison of a human in the flesh— to the cognizant one, this might be the gravest of insults imparted to the species that were the original inhabitants of this world. But to those who would dare to think outside the box and embrace the transient changes Teyvat experiences, they may find out that it could be key to become one of the deadliest weapons against the very progenitor that created humanity.

There is comfort in finding someone within the darkness of one's life, be it by sharing time together in the same darkness or one becoming the light of the other as a reminder that darkness cannot exist without light, as light cannot exist without darkness. Twilight Sword may have never admitted it out loud, but no matter how deep within the depths of his grief and confusion —that he hopes he had help alleviate even a bit— the Sovereign of Waters may have been and still is to one extent or another, he was that light that glimmered timidly on the surface of the water no matter how deep Dáinsleif may be.

Unbeknownst to him and much to his great surprise, the other way around could be said.

It wouldn't be until one day when they sit together next to the other, the warmth of the fireplace behind them to shelter them from the cold that rain brings to Fontaine. Sapphire irises are half-lidded as his head rests on the Iudex's shoulder long after finding out that physical contact isn't his enemy despite what the abyssal interference within his being wants to make him believe. The simple knowledge that there is someone whom he can always come back to and that grounds him to reality, when all odds would push him to the precipice of madness are gnawing at his back, is sufficient to feel safe in a world he had vowed to alleviate from its suffering, inhabited by humans unknown victims to their progenitor by a cruel fate that only benefits them.

Bough Keeper feels Neuvillette shift next to him and so he rises his head to check on him, curiosity present within his eyes as they connect with the others, reminiscent of the primordial sea. He doesn't notice that the other has disposed of his gloves until his hands cradle his face with a touching tenderness, that only now he realizes how much he's longed for it after centuries of suffering as a result of the curse and corruption. Astral pupils quiver within glacial sapphire depths, his breath caught on his throat byproduct of an anticipation that not even he recognizes. The warmth he feels in his heart too present— overwhelming even to analyze what is happening. That is, until Neuvillette finds whatever he's been searching for in his eyes that pushes him to move, his blue lashes fluttering close as his lips press in a chaste kiss against Dáinsleif's.

Truthseeker's eyes widen in shock as a series of brief flashbacks inundate his mind, all of them scattered moments in which the Sovereign confessed fear and uncertainty over a topic that was so foreign to him yet so present among humans. For no matter if one is stranger to humanity, it takes but one to observe closely their habits in order to realize that there is something deeper that connects some. A tear rolls down his face as one realization dawns on him: whenever he expressed longing, desire to feel the same beautiful sentiments he's read in books every time love was described... was it about him?

Love shouldn't hurt, it's what Dáinsleif told him in the past. Even now, he's a believer of this to be true and so it should be for others under normal circumstances. But he's painfully aware that his aren't normal circumstances, and what he feels inside is a turmoil of feelings hard to tell apart beyond the darkness that has always followed him like a shadow. He's tainted beyond salvation, disfigured to the point that he can no longer consider himself human— a beast in all his right, a direct enemy to the being of light that Neuvillette is. Then, why? Did he not consider even once that there is more wrong than good in making him the object of his newfound affection?

Unless... he did, and this is his answer.

Despite the whirlpool of thoughts plaguing his mind, Twilight Sword is powerless to fight a much stronger feeling than his rationale could ever keep at bay. Trembling as they are, he pushes himself to envelop Neuvillette's figure in his embrace as albescent lashes flutter close and, at long last, he reciprocates the kiss however his poor memories command roseate lips to move. As much as he believes himself to be a beast, there is one thing that he cannot ignore: his own longing. To find a companion that decides to stay by his side, no matter how great his inner darkness may be. The realization that the Iudex has become just that to him —or rather, that he always was— fills him with emotions he hasn't felt in a very long time. Perhaps it is not a matter of being deserving of tender feelings like these, regardless of how adamant Dáinsleif is to believe that he's unworthy. But something entirely different that his mind cannot put together cohesively.

Their foreheads press together when the kiss ends, the initial tear that rolled down his face followed by more he feels Neuvillette wiping away with his thumbs. Were he wish to find the source that motivated his crying, he would find that what started as a sorrowful sentiment became one of happiness that is reflected within his quivering irises as Dáinsleif opens his eyes and looks at him, his lips trembling as much as they barely remember now how to smile. ◜Had I known sooner that this was what motivated you to learn about love... I would've tried to help you better than that.◞ Far from the deep and steady voice he usually has, it breaks under the weight of emotion that flows within him. But perhaps... it doesn't matter anymore.

For one of the other things he had taught Neuvillette in the past, too, is that love needn't have a reason to be.

[dirhwangdaseul-archived]

ive put part of these thoughts in the tags of many a post i have made of the show or reblogged from but im just gonna put it here and hope it makes sense but i do think people are doing a disservice to the story when they don't consider what the creators set out to do which comes from a desire to simply adapt the lord of the flies, but of course with girls, so first, the story of the book deals with the survival of white british boyhood and the circumstances which see them find their cruelty, these results and variables don't shed light on humanity as much as they shed light this particular group of kids in time and space, a lot of the things that happen to them are circumstantial at best and i think they mostly show us how much kids need guidance, otherwise they fill the spaces with whatever is closest to making sense, even that alone just tells you that whatever story they can tell themselves to survive and exist with each other will suffice and as humans do it will escalate, at most if we're going for universality in the text, we're shown one version of a caged animal, and it's our youth at it, even so the story works because the circumstances and the stories they tell themselves speak of a cruelty that isn't inherent of anyone as much as it belongs to their processing of their identity in the face of their situation, misguided and stressed, the world they can imagine is limited by the knowledge imparted to them before being left alone in their childhood to make sense of the world as well, the story, thus, makes more sense as stunted growth even then rather than just the lessons of a white colonial power, but even so, they mingle, the cruelty of survival, their youth, and how quickly can stories spin out of control in our hearts and minds, and the rage of violent uncontrolled and unexperienced hands hands

and so it is with yellowjackets, how could it dream of divorcing itself completely from the source material, the story isn't and it can't be some universal take on girlhood, how could it be, girlhood is so varied anyway, we must know or we must suspect, because that's what human is, varied, just by race in this iteration of our universe, because we have given it importance in our day to day lives, by itself, anything can change universes, and race alone? it's tied to so many other circumstances of time and space too, the history of a strand of humanity... and even if the show had tried to be universal (because i dont think its even trying as much as a certain subset of fandom is trying to imply) the creators/writers have shown repeatedly their lack of understanding of how things like race changes the lens, how class, how so many things other than age can alter that transition to adulthood

and it's just becoming.... what boyhood, girlhood, being are.... metamorphosis... like most of the time we're fucking becoming, the metamorphosis is harrowing, but having bodies is, and for all the supposed nuances so far of the series it's patently clear that the end result of these series is the same as that of the book it takes from: this is a particular group of people with a particular set of beliefs that have managed to alienate them from not just the world but from each other so that they can easily justify killing each other, it's a bunch of kids lost and unable to guide themselves to better while a fucking supernatural presence grooms them to murder like how's that remotely universal to girlhood, it's why ive never felt comfortable with people excluding javi and travis like travis wasn't about to be raped and honestly what jackie did qualifies as such even if she didn't notice til later he was drugged, and the dismissal of his little brother is very demonstrative of how barely attached the yellowjackets are to fucking life outside of their own selfishness, like these cruelties you wanna attach as inherent to girlhood, like we're all seeing travis get traumatized aren't we like you can't be this blind as to how his suffering has literally kept the horror going, like how's this girlhood only i just dont fucking get it, explain to me the nuances cause i must be fucking stupid

[divine-nonchalance]

∞

The 9D Arcturian Council, Channeled by Daniel Scranton

“Greetings. We are the Arcturian Council. We are pleased to connect with all of you.

We are very big fans of all of you there on Earth because you chose the harder path. You chose to take on more challenges, more baggage from your past life selves and your genetic line, and we know that you did so because you felt at the time you were up to the challenge. We also know that once most of you began living your lives there in this current era on Earth, you discovered that the challenges were excruciating at times, unbearable to say the least. And yet, you kept going, you kept coming to Earth, a place where no one is trapped. 

No one is forced to incarnate anywhere because of karma. You incarnate where you want to incarnate, when you want to incarnate in that particular place and time, because you are sovereign beings, because you are Source, and you do get to choose whether to continue a series of lifetimes in a particular location. Those of you who have chosen a series of lifetimes there on planet Earth have done so with a great degree of courage and an enormous belief in yourselves and also in your guides and other helpers.

So the plan never was to do it all on your own, and in many ways you are not by yourselves there on Earth, even if it feels like you are at times. Everyone who is consistently receiving these messages from us is linked in a very real way. You are anchoring in Arcturian energies, and you are grounding them into Mother Earth. They are creating an Arcturian grid, and you are in psychic, telepathic communication with one another through these gridlines that you are creating. 

You are our ground crew there on planet Earth, and we need you in order to deliver the help, the guidance, the wisdom that we want to impart on all of humanity. But not everyone, as you know, is ready for what we have to give, and that’s where you all come in as the Arcturian ground crew. You are the gridworkers who make these energies available to others, who would otherwise be closed off to them, who would laugh at you if you were to send them one of these messages because you think it might resonate or help them in some way. And we know that many of you have done this and received those replies from the ones you’ve been seeking to help in your lives. 

But know this – you get to everyone with what you are holding in your consciousness, your awareness, your beliefs, and with the open hearts that you have. We consistently tell you that love is the answer, that compassion is the way, and that inner peace leads to getting everything that you want, and you walk around emanating all of those truths, even if you don’t speak them aloud to the person who is ringing up your groceries at the grocery store. They’re all benefitting from what you are grounding in from us, and we are so appreciative of each and every one of you there on Earth, but especially those of you who are helping to further the Arcturian agenda, which is of course to help humanity awaken and ascend.

We are the Arcturian Council, and we have enjoyed connecting with you.”

[markwatkinsreviews]

BOOK REVIEW: AMERICA SERIES by Florence Montmare (2023)

DAMIANI issue AMERICA SERIES in October (2023) and it's a wonderful display of black & white footage camera-taken from Vienna-born Florence Montmare. This "vox" obviously means everything to her.

Katriel, pictured on the cover (and also features inside) imparts to human hearts these pearls of wisdom: "Anytime I meet a new person, my priority is to learn about them and see how our worlds relate. I dream about a world where I can provide for all the people I love. Love is free, so it's not limited to how much you can put into the world".

You might say, looking at him Christ-on-the-cross-like, he'd be exactly the right person to pass over loaves and fishes to. He seems a photogenic catch.

AMERICA SERIES is therefore full of such bittersweet anecdotes scattered among this "new look at the United States" , the fruits of Florence Montmare's erstwhile journey capturing the current states of reflective states.

All introduced meaningfully by Sam Samone.

Rating: 9/10

America Series – Damiani Books

Mark Watkins, Dare radio, 3 October, 2023.

[usagoodnews]

Selena Gomez Birthday Post: Celebrating 31 Years of Life and Music

Selena Gomez, the multi-talented artist and beloved public figure, turning 31 is a milestone worth cherishing. As she shared a heartfelt birthday post with her fans and followers, the world joined in commemorating her journey through life and music. In this article, we take a moment to honor Selena Gomez’s 31st birthday and reflect on her remarkable career and impact on the entertainment industry.

A Grateful Heart on Her 31st Birthday

A Heartfelt Birthday Post

A Message of Hope and Love

Selena’s birthday post conveyed a message of hope and self-love. She encouraged her followers to embrace their uniqueness and to be kind to themselves. Her words resonated deeply with her fans, who responded with an outpouring of love and admiration.

A Journey of Music and Artistry

Rising to Fame: A Young Sensation

Selena Gomez first captivated hearts as a young actress and singer, gaining widespread recognition for her role in the Disney Channel series “Wizards of Waverly Place.” Her infectious charm and undeniable talent quickly turned her into a teen sensation.

Embracing Music: From Selena Gomez & the Scene to Solo Success

https://usagoodnews.net/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Selenna.png

An Evolution of Artistry: Rare and Vulnerable

With each album, Selena Gomez showcased her growth as an artist. Her critically acclaimed album “Rare” was a testament to her vulnerability and authenticity as she openly addressed personal struggles. The album connected with fans on a deeply emotional level and solidified her place as a respected musician.

Empowering Through Advocacy

Using Her Platform for Good

Beyond her artistic endeavors, Selena Gomez has been an ardent advocate for various social causes. From mental health awareness to supporting underprivileged communities, she has used her platform to amplify important voices and make a positive impact on society.

Inspiring Resilience: Selena’s Journey with Health

Selena’s own journey with health challenges, including her battle with lupus, has inspired many. Her courage in sharing her experiences has helped break stigmas and foster conversations about health and well-being.

Diving into the essence of our creative endeavor, we find ourselves acquainted with the Rare Impact Fund and its noble cause. Gomez, a beacon of compassion and goodwill, has graciously linked the “Donate Now” page of the fund on her Instagram Story. She initiated this noble endeavor with a steadfast focus on addressing the intricate realm of mental health and self-acceptance.

Within the tapestry of description lies the true essence of Rare Impact – a profound aspiration to dismantle the stigma shrouding mental illness. It strives to extend a helping hand to individuals seeking support for their mental well-being. The benevolent fund acts as a catalyst, channeling its resources to organizations across the globe. These organizations strive to widen the access to crucial mental health services and impart invaluable education on this crucial subject.

Astoundingly, a mere one percent of all sales stemming from Gomez’s beauty brand cascade into the coffers of the Rare Impact Fund. A testimony to her dedication to the cause, this contribution solidifies her commitment to the welfare of humanity.

Read More Articles

Mission Impossible 7 – Tom Cruise’s Thrilling Ending Explained”

Joker 2: The Story of a Cinematographer’s Mysterious Encounter on the Sets

Selena Gomez’s 31st birthday is not just a celebration of another year in her life but a celebration of the positive impact she has had on millions of lives worldwide. Through her music, advocacy, and openness about her struggles, she has touched hearts and inspired countless individuals. As we wish her a happy birthday, we also thank her for being an extraordinary artist and human being.

[malleusmaleficent]

i notice that many of the people that like my story enough to comment on it express general burnout or disdain with the broader HxH fandom, like they're tired of seeing certain things done in certain ways and they like mine because i haven't been corrupted by trope brainrot

which, as a side comment, i find very interesting. that like people enjoy my writing explicitly because i am not really a part of the community and so im more independent minded in that regard. like i started writing knowing i was writing for a community i didn't understand and it turns out that was a positive

but my main point is that i HATE the tropification of media. it's so bad. knowing that people are vetting books and book series to make sure that the books have the tropes they want is so depressing to me. like all tropes end up being is like a "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" kind of thing that not only stifles the creativity of creators, but also narrows the horizons of the readers.

like it's so sad, it's so narrow minded and so transactional. i am who i am, to some extent, because i read books that i NEVER would've read if i had known what they were going into it. and knowing that people are starting to treat reading as like a restaurant menu from which you order what you want, i really don't like that.

i hope that all of you one day have a similar experience to what i had, where you read something you never would've imagined yourself reading and it ends up changing your life.

and i hope authors learn to enjoy tropes responsibly ig, don't let it dominate your planning and your narrative structure and your characterization. like it's fine to just have things you prefer writing, for instance both of my fics largely focus on aloof and standoffish guys with a crush they resent having but that's like. because it's reflective of my own personal romantic experience so it's easier for me to write from the heart on that point lol

this isn't really actually targeted at fic writers, as i understand it trope-y bullshit is starting to dominate young adult and romance books because so many young writers grew up writing fanfiction so im really going after published writers here lol. fanfic the bar is lower, do whatever you want just. be mindful of the community you're cultivating with your writing ig?

not really even trying to express these thoughts here as an amateur writer, moreso as an avid reader who is strongly opinionated on the issue of personal enrichment and personal education/curiosity. i think it's one of our greatest tools for imparting lessons and humanity onto people, don't let it turn into cringe bullshit bro

[marveldcnerdys]

The Amazing Legacy of Marvel’s Spider-Man: A Tale of Heroism and Humanity

Few superheroes have captured the hearts of audiences worldwide quite like Spider-Man. Since his debut in 1962, created by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, Spider-Man has swung into the hearts of millions, becoming one of Marvel's most beloved and enduring characters. Whether through comic books, movies, animated series, or video games, the web-slinger’s story continues to inspire generations. This article delves into the legacy of Spider-Man, exploring the essence of what makes him an enduring icon and his influence across various media.

A Hero Born of Relatability

Spider-Man's origin story is rooted in tragedy, making him one of the most relatable superheroes. Peter Parker, an ordinary teenager from Queens, New York, gains superpowers after being bitten by a radioactive spider. Unlike other superheroes of his time, Peter faces struggles that mirror those of his readers: academic pressures, financial difficulties, and social awkwardness.

His transformation into Spider-Man comes with the iconic realization: “With great power comes great responsibility.” This mantra, imparted to him by his beloved Uncle Ben, serves as the moral compass for Peter’s journey. It’s this human vulnerability combined with extraordinary abilities that make Spider-Man resonate with fans. He’s not a billionaire playboy or a god from another realm; he’s a kid trying to make sense of his dual life.

Spider-Man in Comic Books: The Birth of a Phenomenon

Spider-Man’s comic book journey began with Amazing Fantasy #15, introducing readers to a new kind of hero. His popularity soon led to the launch of The Amazing Spider-Man series in 1963. Under Stan Lee’s storytelling and Steve Ditko’s distinctive art style, Spider-Man tackled both supervillains and personal challenges.

Over the decades, the Spider-Man comics have introduced a rich rogues' gallery, including iconic villains like the Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, and Venom. Storylines such as “The Night Gwen Stacy Died” and “Kraven’s Last Hunt” have left an indelible mark on comic book history, showcasing the depth and complexity of Spider-Man’s character.

The Cinematic Web-Slinger: From Tobey to Tom

Spider-Man’s transition to the big screen brought his story to a global audience. Starting with Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy (2002-2007), Tobey Maguire’s portrayal of Peter Parker became synonymous with the character. Raimi’s films combined action-packed sequences with emotional depth, setting the standard for superhero movies.

The rebooted The Amazing Spider-Man series (2012-2014), starring Andrew Garfield, offered a fresh take on the character, emphasizing Peter’s intelligence and emotional struggles. Although it faced mixed reviews, Garfield’s Spider-Man found renewed appreciation in Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021), where he reprised his role.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) introduced Tom Holland as a younger, more energetic Spider-Man. First appearing in Captain America: Civil War (2016), Holland’s portrayal brought a youthful charm and authenticity to the role. Films like Spider-Man: Homecoming and Spider-Man: Far From Home redefined the character for a new generation.

Animated Adventures: Expanding the Spider-Verse

Spider-Man has also thrived in the animated realm. Series like Spider-Man: The Animated Series (1994) and Ultimate Spider-Man (2012) brought the character’s adventures to life for younger audiences. However, the groundbreaking Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) revolutionized animated superhero films.

The film introduced audiences to the multiverse concept, where different Spider-People from alternate dimensions unite. Miles Morales, a biracial teenager, takes center stage, offering representation and a fresh perspective on the Spider-Man legacy. The sequel, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023), further expanded this universe, solidifying its status as a cultural phenomenon.

Spider-Man in Video Games: A Thrilling Experience

Video games have played a crucial role in Spider-Man’s popularity. Titles like Spider-Man 2 (2004) for PlayStation 2 and Spider-Man: Shattered Dimensions (2010) set benchmarks for superhero gaming. However, the release of Marvel’s Spider-Man (2018) by Insomniac Games elevated the genre to new heights.

Praised for its stunning graphics, immersive gameplay, and heartfelt storytelling, Marvel’s Spider-Man allows players to swing through a meticulously recreated New York City. The game’s success led to the sequel, Spider-Man: Miles Morales (2020), focusing on the titular character’s journey as a hero. Both games highlight Spider-Man’s ability to connect with audiences across different media.

The Symbolism of Spider-Man: More Than a Mask

Spider-Man represents more than just a superhero; he’s a symbol of hope and perseverance. His struggles with identity, loss, and responsibility reflect universal themes. Peter Parker’s journey reminds us that heroism is about doing the right thing, even when it’s difficult.

Moreover, Spider-Man’s adaptability has allowed the character to resonate with diverse audiences. From Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy to Spider-Man 2099 and Spider-Ham, the Spider-Verse celebrates inclusivity and the idea that anyone can wear the mask.

Cultural Impact: Spider-Man’s Enduring Appeal

Spider-Man’s influence extends beyond entertainment. He’s become a cultural icon, appearing in merchandise, theme park attractions, and charitable initiatives. The character’s relatability and timeless stories have made him a source of inspiration for people of all ages.

From the streets of Queens to the farthest corners of the Spider-Verse, Spider-Man’s journey reflects our own struggles and triumphs. His story reminds us that ordinary individuals can achieve extraordinary things, embodying the spirit of resilience and hope.

Conclusion: Why Spider-Man Will Always Swing High

Marvel’s Spider-Man stands as a testament to the enduring power of storytelling. Whether you’re a lifelong fan or a newcomer, Spider-Man’s tale continues to captivate and inspire. As new adaptations and adventures emerge, one thing remains certain: Spider-Man will always be the friendly neighborhood hero who reminds us that with great power comes great responsibility.

[readjthompson]

Well, since my novelette Cancel Toby Chalmers! (copyright me, now) has been sitting around, completed, for nearly 16 months, I’ve decided to share it for free, until it’s later released as part of a Toby Chalmers collection.

Here's Chapter 10.

Chapter 10

“Wow, they actually did it,” Toby announced to a hypothetical audience, alternating between primal rage catalepsy and giggly nihilism. He closed his laptop to avoid smashing it, then massaged his temples, blinking frantically. He clamped his jaw shut to stifle his screams.

All of his books’ Amazon listings were gone, as was his Author Page. So, too, had every trace of his fiction been expunged from Goodreads. Google searches turned up no literature, neither synopses nor cover art. Years upon years of honing his fiction yielded no evidence whatsoever online.

Toby had purchased author copies of his own titles before the great erasure, however: a hundred of each book, stored in boxes in his garage. Attempting to list them on eBay, he’d found his account deactivated. He’d left a copy of each in his local Little Free Library bookcase, and planned to do so again, probably. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure what to do with ’em. Would door-to-door selling gain me sales or bullet wounds? he wondered.

After composing himself slightly, feeling half-spectral, he reopened his laptop, to search for traces of his existence on social media. There, too, all evidence of his books and references to him as an author had vanished. Posts and replies branding him a racist remained, though, along with screenshots of his drunken meditation on blackness.

Joseph McCarthy Jr.’s call to action post had been edited, with every mention of Toby removed. Lest Toby feel entirely neglected, however, Joe had crafted a brand-new post in his honor, released to the masses just a few minutes prior. And, boy, was it a doozy.

Toby saw his own photo staring back at him—a squinting, smirking portrait that he’d always hoped conveyed wit, but feared imparted the opposite impression—the one he’d been using as his author photo for the last couple of years. Aside it was a second photo, its subject a strangely hirsute grade-schooler that Toby had never seen before. Beneath them, it read:

AN UNCLE’S ORISON

Oh, my wonderful, diverse social justice superstars, my much-valued supporters in horror fiction renovation, my Rocks of Gibraltar in the tempest, my radiance in the howling void, I beg of you, right now, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, please, please, please attend my plea.

After the opioid epidemic seized ahold of my sister Clementine, after she let horses sodomize her for bindles of heroin and became famous on the internet, after she overdosed in the carwash with nary a vehicle in sight, she made the courageous choice to check herself into rehab. The good gal’s been an addiction center patient for just over two months now, showing extraordinary progress, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

Clementine has a tremendous heart and I love her dearly. So, naturally, I volunteered to take care of her son while she gets the treatment she needs. I’ve paid for his food out of my very own pocket, introduced him to some of my favorite horror films (Jordan Peele’s first, natch!), and ensured that he kept up with his schooling. Overall, Shadrach’s a great child—smart as a whip and nearly as handsome as his dear old uncle is—but he’s had some, let’s say, moral deficiencies that I’ve been helping him overcome.

As much as it shames me to admit it, the boy’s shown evidence of insensitivity to the black cause. I caught him laughing at an African American that he saw on TV, as if that individual was less human than those of other races.

Well, you know that Joseph McCarthy Jr. won’t permit bigotry in his radius, especially when it’s coming from his own family! Immediately, I devised a series of role-playing exercises to make poor, misguided Shadrach sympathize with black folks and their culture. The boy was showing great progress; congratulations were forthcoming. Then infamous racist Toby Chalmers came along and spoiled everything.

I don’t know how they first communicated—some sort of clandestine message board, I’m assuming—but one night, a fully grown fellow showed up on my doorstep, asking for Shadrach by name. The boy’s just eight years old. No way would I let him near a cisgender, racially challenged, straight man I don’t know.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Toby Chalmers,” the man answered.

“That evil fellow from social media who thinks that blacks are worth less than dirt?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Toby then declared. “Don’t you know that those coal-coated animals will never accept you, that they’ll rob and rape you any chance that they get?”

“Lies!” I shouted. “Black is beautiful! It is! Stay the heck away from my nephew or I’ll call the police!”

Silly me, I assumed that Toby Chalmers possessed enough intelligence to realize that I’m not a man to be trifled with, that I have pal-o-roonies all over the planet, linked by a love of horror fiction more powerful than religion. Your strength is my strength; my strength is yours.

But then I began sighting Toby Chalmers when Shadrach and I were out in public—lurking in a parking lot’s periphery, seated behind us at the movie theater, even browsing at the comic shop. As I couldn’t prove that he was stalking us yet, I tried to photograph him with my cellphone, but the man kept hiding behind his hands every time I snapped a picture. Clearly, he was planning something terrible.

My worst fears were confirmed just a few nights ago. Shadrach and I had spent the entire day together, shopping and singing, dancing and gaming, grubbing and gabbing, as close relatives do. After an invigorating supper of lobster ravioli, I left the boy to his own devices while I attended to some Transylvoria correspondence. There are many exciting things in the pipeline, believe you me (OMG, OMG, OMG, one of my favorite movie stars is thinking about writing a monthly column for us! Keep those fingers crossed, fam).

A couple of hours later, with my evening’s editorial duties behind me, I looked at the clock and realized that it was my nephew’s bedtime. Naturally, a nurturing fellow such as myself would rather die than miss an opportunity to tuck that boy into bed. My heart was so full of love; indeed, I couldn’t stop smiling.

That lip curl upended itself when my door knocking went unanswered. Entering the guestroom that I’d donated to Shadrach for the duration of his stay, I found him absent. Most of his clothes were gone. The screen was missing from the window frame.

Indeed, it seems that evil Toby Chalmers has abducted poor Shadrach, undoubtedly to indoctrinate him further in Toby’s black-hating ways. I’ve already contacted the police, but I need the help of all of you good people, too. Spread these photos and this story all across social media, so that if either of the two shows their face anywhere, the authorities and I will be notified, and Shadrach can be deconditioned, and Toby Chalmers can face justice.

Now and beyond forever, I love all of you, my exquisite, intelligent, diverse pal-o-roonies.

“What…the…fuck?” said Toby. Before his eyes, by the thousands, Joseph McCarthy Jr.’s words accrued likes and reposts. Replies sprouted every second: “Toby Chalmers can’t get away with this,” “We’ll stomp that child rapist to mush,” “Stalkers don’t belong in our country,” and myriad variations.

This smirking sack of pudge actually thinks that I visited him? Toby wondered. He thinks that I abducted his strange, hairy-faced nephew? Do I have a lookalike out there? Nah, Joe must be fabricating this story, for attention. Where’s this asshole live, anyway?

A quick internet search revealed that Joseph McCarthy Jr. and Transylvoria were based in Georgia. That’s like three states over. No wonder the cops haven’t bothered me yet. Will they, though, sometime soon? Do the posts of social media jackals carry much clout with authorities? I doubt that there are many Transylvoria fans with badges, but how can I be sure?

Whatever the case, I can’t keep letting this lit scene fascist take shots at me. People incapable of writing horror fiction don’t deserve to control it. No one does. Art should always, always, always evolve unrestrained, and have its existence acknowledged. I’m gonna have to kick this loser’s ass, aren’t I?

Grinning at the thought of Joseph McCarthy Jr.’s mouth imploding under a clenched fist, at watching that slanderous scumfuck writhing on the ground, choking on his own teeth shards, Toby navigated Transylvoria’s website.

“Holy mackerel,” he soon exclaimed. “Transylvoria’s Media Outreach Luncheon—whatever the fuck that is—is just a couple of weeks away. Joe is signing autographs there and everything.”

Perhaps I can’t fight cancel culture as a whole, Toby thought, but I can at least hurt this malefactor, this prime pile of dog shit. How satisfying will that be? I can wear a disguise and devise an escape route. If I do happen to get caught, assault’s just a misdemeanor anyway. Totally worth it.

He flexed his fingers and stretched. A mad impetus had seized him. I’ll start a literary blog under a false name on a free site and whip up a dozen quick reviews, he thought. That oughta get me through the luncheon’s registration page. Their website doesn’t take payments, so I’ll pay the fifty bucks there, in cash. I can do this. I’ve gotta do this. Fuck Joseph McCarthy Jr.

[rashid565]

📊 The Impact of Retail Software on Modern Business Strategies🏬💼 A Comprehensive Overview 

In the present day fast-paced international, e-commerce has ended up an integral a part of retail, permitting agencies to attain customers everywhere, every time. 

However, with this comfort comes the project of coping with more than one element of your commercial enterprise efficiently, from monitoring stock to processing income and analyzing client statistics.  

For e-trade outlets, investing in the proper software program isn't simply an alternative, it’s a need to live aggressive in the current market. 

But what precisely is software, and how can it assist you as an e-trade store? Let’s discover the significance of this software, particularly the billing software program for retail stores, retail POS software program and retail POS structures and how they can rework your e-commerce operations. 

✅Understanding Retail Software 

Retail software is a good-sized time that encompasses various sorts of programs designed to manipulate and optimize retail operations. Whether you’re an internet-only retailer or run an e-alternate and a bodily save, software can assist streamline approaches like inventory manage, customer relationship control, Quick Billing, and sales tracking. The proper software program will help you scale your operations as your organization grows, lessen human errors, and provide a progressed purchaser experience. 

✅Why is Retail Software Important for E-Commerce Retailers? 

E-commerce is unexpectedly developing, and purchase expectancies are better than ever. With this software program, you may: 

Automate tactics: Retail software seems after repetitive responsibilities like generating invoices and tracking inventory degrees, liberating you to cognizance on strategic increase. 

Improve consumer revel in: With quicker checkouts and actual-time stock updates, customers can hold with self-assurance the know-how that what they see is what’s available. 

Reduce errors: Manual statistics access is liable to errors. Retail software program software reduces this danger by way of automating information series and input. 

Integrate with extraordinary systems: Many software program software solutions can be included with e-alternate systems, helping you manipulate all factors of your commercial enterprise from a single dashboard. 

For e-trade stores, these benefits translate into smoother operations, happier customers, and greater time to attention on developing your commercial enterprise. 

Billing Software for Retail Shops: The Heart of Seamless Transactions are 

One of the core components of any retail software answer is billing software for retail shops. E-trade shops no matter their online presence nonetheless want green billing software program to method bills, generate invoices, and control taxes. This is specifically vital when increasing offline sales or coping with complicated tax policies across areas. 

✅With billing software, you may: 

Generate correct invoices speedily: No greater guide calculations or overlooked info. Billing software ensures your invoices are error-free. 

 Track bills and transactions: Easily keep tune of what’s paid, pending, or past due. 

Ensure compliance: Many billing software program structures are designed that will help you stay compliant with neighborhood tax laws, lowering the threat of fines. 

For e-commerce stores imparting a clean, secure, and quick billing technique, this helps build agree with with clients, leading to copy enterprise and tremendous phrase-of-mouth. 

Retail POS Software: The Backbone of Multichannel Retailing If you use both online and offline channels; retail POS software is important for keeping your commercial enterprise running easily. Retail POS (Point of Sale) software is the machine used to process transactions and manage sales in body shops. 

For e-trade stores who also have a brick-and-mortar presence, integrating POS software program with your e-commerce platform guarantees that you have a unified view of your enterprise. 

✅With retail POS software program, you may: 

Synchronize inventory: Whether a product is bought online or in-store, retail POS software program ensures your stock is updated in actual-time, keeping off stockouts and overselling. 

Offer flexible charge alternatives: Modern POS software program helps with a couple of payment methods, ensuring a continuing level in for your clients. 

Analyze income records: Gain insights into your nice-selling products, busiest instances, and purchaser alternatives, assisting you make knowledgeable commercial enterprise selections. 

In essence, retail POS software ensures that your on-line and offline operations are incorporated, providing an unbroken enjoyment for each of your staff and clients. 

✅Choosing the Right Retail Software for Your E-Commerce Business 

Selecting the fine software program for your e-trade depends on your desires. Are you trying to streamline billing, integrate inventory throughout more than one income channel, or advantage insights into client conduct? Understanding those needs will help you select the proper software program for your enterprise. 

✅When selecting retail software program, do not forget: 

Scalability: As your commercial enterprise grows, your software needs to be developed with you 

Ease of use: The software needs to be smooth for your group to analyze and use. 

Customer aid: opt for software providers that provide dependable customer service in case you run into issues. 

Integration talents: Ensure that your software program integrates nicely together with your e-commerce platform, payment gateways, and other equipment you rely upon. 

Conclusion 

Investing in the right retail software, consisting of billing software for retail stores and retail POS software program is critical for e-commerce outlets looking to live aggressive.  

These tools now not most effective simplify operations however also enhance patron pleasure, giving you greater time and sources to attention on what topics most—growing your business. 

FAQs on Retail Software: - 

1.How does retail software improve enterprise performance? 

Retail software automates obligations like inventory management, sales tracking, and patron facts series, helping agencies save time and reduce errors.  

2. How does retail software affect patron experience? 

With functions like customized recommendations, faster checkouts, and loyalty packages, retail software enables corporations to offer a better buying enjoy.   

3. Can retail software help with enterprise decision-making? 

Yes, retail software programs afford real-time insights and reports on income trends, customer alternatives, and stock levels.  

4. How does retail software support commercial enterprise boom? 

By streamlining operations and enhancing patron interactions, retail software programs allow corporations to scale greater effectively.