#alone for the first time in his life

[fuckyeahgongyoo]

living alone be like

[omegamoo]

i’m rewatching scott’s double life for the first time in two years. and his first episode is The aromantic experience. everyone around you is asking if you’ve found your soulmate and you point to your best friend and say “well yeah we’re soulmates now” and they say “HA! FAKE SOULMATES!!!” and then “well i just can’t WAIT until you find your REAL soulmate, i’m having SO MUCH FUN with mine!” it’s like when someone walks up to you and tells you that someday someone will change your mind. and you watch everyone around you get happy and comfortable and settle down with one other person in a tight-knit way that you don’t understand and they’re in shock and disbelief and they stare at you weird when you point to your best friend and tell people that you live together

[jellydragons]

been watching a lot of hermitcraft recently and am happy to report that i am hopelessly endeared by these little goobers 💕 they’re like bugs to me

close ups under the cut!

gonna be real this was absolutely just me taking the opportunity to get my grubby lil mitts all up in their character designs lol i heart interpreting mc skins

[theloveinc]

OlderDad!Bakugou who gets a haircut and his baby doesn't recognize him and he doesn't want his dad to pick him up 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bakugou has a cry in the bathroom and you have to spend the rest of the night consoling him.

Also Hiiiiiii, miss u, hope youre gooooood

head in my hands bc of this, just thought abt bakugo growing out his hair a little bit right after baby's birth...takes him months to go and get a real haircut cuz he doesn't wanna burden you more than he already has and by the time he's okay with the thought (but only for "AN HOUR MAX," is what he says), he has a mullet thing going on and all this scruff on his chin🥺🥺🥺

so he gets home with his regular ol' haircut, maybe a little shorter just to account for ... not wanting to go again so soon, and baby's HOLLERING bloody murder as soon as they see him and refusing to be taken out of your arms, doing that thing where they're flipping their face back and forth to dodge a kiss...

it's so tragic bc not even a little cheek nuzzling helps to calm them bc bakugo's CLEAN SHAVEN and smells like aftershave instead of like dad when he tries!!!!!!

and after, you watch him kinda sulk into the bathroom, thinking like aw yeah thats a bummer but also pretty funny, too (esp bc the haircut does look good🫣🤓), AND HE DOESN'T COME OUT FOR LIKE an hour???

....until you finally have to ask him if he's okay in there and you're opening the door to him sitting on the toilet seat, arms crossed and red cheeks a little streaky with tears...

LJFKASDJFADSJK it's the cutest, most sad sight you ever did see!! ofc Bakugo tries to deny it, but the way he tears up again (after you're done assuring him he did nothing wrong) when his baby finally realizes it's him and smiles (and then how he refuses to give them up again until bedtime) has his ass. EXPOSED.

(i love and miss u more than air, earth, water, dirt + HOPE YOU'RE GOOD TOO BESTIE ILY)

[hiding-under-the-willow]

Okay. hear me out. Creaking Helsknight

[unriding]

me n moze say good morning to the world !!! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

art by @rabbbitseason of course <3

[astrowarr]

when was the last time scott was this alone?

was it 3rd life, after the death of his husband, gone far too early? or was it last life, as he looked away from the blood on his hands and up to the sky just in time to see the lightning flash? was it double life, when he stood face to face with his soulmate that wasn't really his? was it limited life, when the sword of his ally, his friend sank between his ribs?

no, this is something new entirely. because this is the first time scott has ever been betrayed. jimmy held his hand until scott covered his lifeless body with dirt and planted flowers on his grave. pearl was an ally with loyalty abound up until the free for all that killed her. cleo, his chosen soulmate, never once entertained the idea of turning her back to scott, not even as the world grew emptier, not even for the person her life was bound to. martyn- for all intents and purposes- fought by scott's side until the end of the world, until his mind and body fractured and he turned on his heel. but even then, that wasn't betrayal; not to scott, because he knows what it is to be the last one standing.

scott's allies don't choose to leave him; they die before they get the chance. and even after their deaths, there are new friends to lean on. grian stood by his side in that sweltering desert as their fingers knocked arrows and the sand exploded into glass. when cleo died in double life, he looked to pearl, and for the first time, he saw her. he died looking into her eyes, but his heart felt whole because finally, he understood her. alone in the world together, they mended what was broken.

gem has flipped this on its head. it's not that she was fickle from the start— no, not at all. but something burned under her skin from the start, a fire in her eyes that scott is far too familiar with. when she burst from her home with one red eye and blood matted in her hair and splattered along her skin, she was smiling with sharp teeth. the void trickled along her skin, inky and endless and so so cold. the funny part about it was that scott saw her and thought she looks like herself now.

in the wake of gem's fury, scott has nothing and no one. he won't be able to turn his back to her again, not after knowing the sheer terror of her eyes boring bloody, gaping holes into his skull. he spent days curled up in tiny caves and tucked away behind jagged cliffs. he was utterly alone, more alone than he's ever been. scott's allies are what make him scott— what is he if he stands in solitude, no warm faces to share food and diamonds snd secrets with?

what is scott now if not a shell?

[dirt-str1der]

They made hyoga look so much cooler in the anime hes just standing there , in the manga theyre all dripping wet and bedraggled and senku is dying as usual

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

[youngpettyqueen]

I know the decision to have Julian's parents have him augmented was made on the fly but imo its pretty obvious from early on that Julian has Family Issues because he avoids talking about his family like the plague and I think they should've incorporated this into the Julian and Sisko dynamic right from early on because I think it would've made for some really compelling stories and moments and could've set up a REALLY interesting Julian and Jake dynamic which they kinda started to do but never fully went for

[rotationalsymmetry]

Imagine being Orion in A Deadly Education.

People are mostly not that interesting to you. They don't like you so much as they like what you can do. Maybe at some point you tried to really connect with someone, and it didn't go that well, so you didn't keep trying. Fighting mals though? You're good at that. It makes sense to you, unlike most of the things people do. It's rewarding -- intrinsically rewarding -- and people seem to be happy that you're doing it? Because they don't like doing it but it benefits them. So, basically no downside.

And you go off to school and it's full of mals, and people think you're great because you fight the mals, and you ignore them as best you can when you're not fighting mals for them. (You're polite, your mother always wanted you to be polite and you don't want people to be mad at you. But you don't do anything beyond being polite.) And people seem to think you're doing a good thing. So. It's ok. It's good enough. The world makes sense, more or less. This is what you're for.

And one day you see a soul eater go under another student's door, and you destroy it like you always do. Except this person is mad at you. Which makes no sense. No one's ever been mad at you before, not for fighting mals. So apparently you did something wrong even though you only did what you always do which has always been right before. But you guess you should probably make it up to her? So when she says she needs to go to the shop at dinner you offer to go with her, why not?

Except somehow she's mad at you again. So you have to make it up to her even more now, you guess?

(You don't like it when people are mad at you, but you know what to do when people are mad at you. You Make It Up To Them, usually by doing whatever they tell you to or fighting a mal or both, and then they stop being mad at you. You prefer to understand why they are mad at you, but most of the time it makes no sense, and you know what to do when it makes no sense to you why someone is mad at you.)

So you guard her door while she fixes it. Which takes her a weirdly long time. You've just taken down several mimics, you're bursting with mana, you'd give her some if she asked. Mana has never been a scarce resource for you; on some level it hasn't really occurred to you that it could be a scarce resource for anyone else. People aren't that interesting to you, you don't think about them much, except when someone tells you to, like your mother making you do flash cards of other kids' names. But she doesn't ask, and she doesn't cheat either, she does things the long and hard way, which makes a third thing all coming from the same person that doesn't mesh with your pre-existing worldview. She's fascinating.

And then she pulls on your mana like it's nothing and she's even more fascinating. How did she do that? Is she a malificer? (Is that why she keeps being so mean to you, when nobody is ever mean to you?) What's going on?

And you've never voluntarily fought alongside anyone else before, but she's good to fight with. She's annoying, but she does also point out things you missed or didn't know.

And she stands up for you, in a way that nobody has ever stood up for you before. She's not nice. She's the opposite of nice. But it's starting to dawn on you that being nice is not the same as something else that seems like it should go with being nice. And if El is not nice to you but is that other thing, maybe some other people who are nice to you are...not that other thing to you?

It's a lot to think about.

Anyways. You like her. You're not very interested in people. But you are interested in El.

And then you have the best day of your life, when you've gotten to take on more mals and scarier mals than you've ever taken on before, and you did it and you were good at it, and you kind of didn't want to leave but you were supposed to leave because that was how the Mission worked, and then you were about to die because you missed the bell and the cleansing fires had started and there was nowhere to go, but at least you were going to die next to El.

But she didn't think she was going to die, and she cast a wall of mortal flame (who does that?) and it worked as a firebreak and you didn't die and no one had ever saved you before. That wasn't how the world worked. Who was this person who kept breaking the rules of how the world worked like they didn't even apply to her?

(And then you look around and she isn't there and you kissed her earlier when you thought you were both going to die, and she, uh, didn't react well and oh no, what if you've ruined everything what if you like her but she doesn't like you like that what if she won't want to be around you any more? What if the one interesting person in the entire world doesn't think you are interesting?) (it'd be ok, right? It was ok before.) (it wouldn't be ok. So maybe it wasn't ok before either.)

[5a-alf]

I fear Kevin Day is the type of person whose struggle always came second. He funcioned enough that while everyone knew he wasn't alright, it was also nobody's problem, as someone else was actively having a harder time and they took precedence. He internalises all his problems and keeps going and going but he is fueled by alchool and sheer desperation a 100% of the time. If he were to stop for even a second he wouldn't know how to start again.

Did he ever, at somepoint in his life -away from the ex foxes, a pro player, married to Thea- wish he had it worse, just so that maybe it would have been his turn being saved? Being first? How badly would he feel, just one second after thinking it, because he knows damn well he has enough trauma to fill a stadium and he isn't actually jealous of his friends that had it worse, he isn't . That's a fucked up thing to think, stop it, stop it.

Would he still drink himself into a stupor to shoote the ache, to banish the thought? That's the help he got, when he was at his worst, a drink, and then two, and then a thousand. And it worked, it made him go, it picked him up when he was down, and now he can't get down without crashing.

Did he wish to be saved? Did he hope somebody, anybody, took the time and put in the effort to help him, just because they saw him down, not because he begged, but because they noticed he could use a hand. Or two, actually. Was it torment, to always be under the spotlight, yet never been seen? Did he run toward fame hoping the more eyes on him meant it would be easier to be noticed?

[al-luviec]

compiled whatever this is (and I run out of tag space)

meh HoT gifs (3/?)

[minnieposting]

ughh im thinking about sunday. specifically about the person he used to be and the person he is now. that confident person with a twisted, unhinged side to him?? guy who definitely enjoyed putting aventurine in his place and causing harm to him. from that, to this almost...meek individual harboring so much sadness and guilt. i think a lot about the fact that he severed his halo in order to feel pain to keep himself in his place. to feel grounded, to feel closer to...humanity?? i guess? i never really know how to describe how exactly i interpret this, but it makes me feel something in my gut just aahhhh. i think the symbolic fusing between him and wonweek was very beautiful, and due to a similar experience i had during a self-introspective moment, i really do relate to him and love him so much. sunday canonically has ocd, and at some point i realized that i shouldn't see my ocd as something separate from me. it is still me, it is still my brain. i decided that working alongside it in a way would be more beneficial as well as treating that side of me with kindness and love instead of hatred! and yes, it isnt just an ocd parallel. i just decided to read into that aspect at the same time. i just think sundays a really beautiful character and i care him so much! i think him being part of the express is such a good decision, and even though stellaron hunter sunday would've been awesome, this is definitely the best path for him. someone pointed out that if he had been in the stellaron hunters, following a script wouldn't benefit him at all. he deserves to spend time in the real world now with people around him who care about him, and i am looking forward to seeing his development with the express in the upcoming amphoreus story. im also...quite terrified. the story is going to hurt so bad...i can just feel it already.

[shhhsoftnwet]

Sometimes all a bad bitch want is a silly little short king 👹❤️‍🔥

[zoennes]

30 NOVEMBER, 2019 • ZATERDAG, 09:41