#and also look at the context of the events

[it-came-autumnally]

I know this is a joke but this is actually really sweet… I love when Emu gets starry-eyed at her troupe doing silly things. Because it’s not that she likes WxS in spite of their weirdness; she loves them because of it.

[ririya-translates]

Mitsuki Birthday Story and Flower

In 2024, Towada published short stories on character birthdays about how they celebrated those days in the game timeline. July 14th is Mitsuki's and I've been desperately wanting to translate it for a year now.

There aren't major spoilers, but I would advise completing the common route up to that point and his first affection event before reading for further context (his summer novel story is relevant too, but not a requirement).

His image flower is baby's breath. Ishida describes it as pairing well with other flowers, with both of them bringing out the other's charm, while also having its own pure and refined beauty.

Every July 14th, Shirota remembered that there was no cake. That day in the Quartz rehearsal room, as rainy season transitioned into summer, was no different.

"Louis, you're the same as always!" In the middle of the excitement stood the one with a high voice, girlish face, and slender figure. Kisa Tachibana was truly a Jeanne…or at least used to be. Past tense. Because for the summer performance Kisa was somehow challenged to take on a Jack role.

Mukai, the role Kisa played, was a man whose androgynous features made him stand out from the rest of the world. He had an articulate, clean-sounding voice as if it had all excess noise scraped off of it. He was a cool man who could manage any problems that arose with unaffected ease. Yet it was Mukai who was now shouting on the behalf of his work superior, Hasekura. They all held their breath in shock and couldn't look away. It even pierced through Shiroma, Shirota's character, who was unable to move a muscle.

The towering wave of Mukai's rage and Kisa's acting swept them all into the scene. While Kisa becoming a Jack set off a lot of controversy with the class transfer debacle, the day where he engulfed the rest of Univeil didn't seem that far off now. (…That isn't to say Kisa was always an 'unmistakable Jack' though.) While this current Kisa was a 'Jack any way you look at it', when he first met Kisa, Shirota imagined he would naturally walk down the Jeanne path. But now all his his thinking had been overturned.

Kisa Tachibana seemed like someone who did not fear change. This was in total contrast to Shirota, who had no desire for it. He felt it was best for situations and emotions to remain flat, to continue being perfectly level. Change was something that only brought troublesome pain. For example, there was absolutely never cake on any July 14th….

(That one again, huh?) Shirota let out an annoyed sigh at the flood of incoherent feelings rushing forth within him. If only he could get rid of these boring memories with an exhale. Recollections filled his veins and ran through his body until they pierced through his chest. The pain called forth more and more of these dormant memories to the surface. ――Faces lit up in candlelight. A house with all the lights off. ――A mix of singing voices and congratulations. The sound of only his own footsteps. ――A cake crowned with giant strawberries. A perfectly flat table with not a thing on it. (I don't even like cake anyway.) But even so, on a day like today, cake was all he could think about. (A round cake, split into pieces, this is my, this is…this is…..) The churning memories made his head feel fuzzy.

"Shirota." He suddenly heard his name called. He raised his head with a jolt and saw Kisa in front of him. From all the racket in the practice room, he would later figure out that Neji had called for a break. "Sorry, is it okay if I ask a song-related question?" "…." "Shirota?" "Oh, um…" Kisa blinked several times at Shirota's stammering, but waited for his response, being careful not to overstep any bounds. The more Shirota thought about not saying anything, about not continuing the conversation, the more that thick murky cloudiness grew in his head. "…You." "Yes?" "Look like you could eat a whole cake by yourself." "Huh," Kisa's voice slipped out. "Huh," Shirota's did the same. He realized he had dragged Kisa into all these memories. (What the hell are you doing?!) He reflexively scolded himself. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else." He apologized with flimsy words which lacked any ring of truth. They may as well have been lies. Emotions swelled up within him and surged forcefully. He was filled with hatred for himself. "I think I could eat one, depending on the size at least," Kisa said. There was no need to reply to such a ridiculous question, but he did anyways with a nod and a serious expression. "But for you Shirota, even just one piece might be a challenge, huh?" Kisa was trying to keep the conversation going. Seeing that, Shirota couldn't just ignore it. "…You might be right. Even just one piece feels like a lot sometimes. Especially if it's a sugary cake loaded with cream." Without missing a beat, Kisa said, "Like a shortcake?" He had just gone for the most common example, but it matched exactly with the one from Shirota's memories. A shortcake with red strawberries. (I don't even like cake, but…)

He thought about his younger self having a cake placed in front of him, one loaded with sweetness and kind affection. "…I guess." A cake on the table was a symbol of parental love. A cake missing from the table was a symbol of that love being gone. "But…I do have the urge to eat it from time to time." The fact that he never had it was the very thing that made him crave it so badly. His self was imprisoned within this cage of his parents as wounds were dug into his heart. The seeping blood was proof of his connection to them. "Well in that case, you should split it into pieces and just eat as much as you want," Kisa said, as if it was easy. "Huh…" "Just cut off the size of piece you think you'd like." (That's not really what I'm talking about. And what would I do with the leftover cake?) He kept his mouth closed. (Oh right, this guy…has had people around to split a cake with.) Parents, siblings, anyone like that. So he could receive cake from others and give it away as well.

Now that Shirota thought about it, he always assumed the cake would be sliced. That seemed like the natural way to enjoy a gift. But the moment he thought about this, his world suddenly turned upside down and all the feelings crashed on top of him. (I….) Cake is something that's given to others, isn't it? His thoughts first jumped to his parents' faces, a sight that always brought him to despair. But in the back of his mind, he also thought of those guys in the year above him who looked out for him. He thought of the others in Quartz and the other students in his year. (They've all changed, and so have I.) The turbulent emotions began to clear a little while the cake within his memories started to dim. "…Are there any songs you particularly like?" In an attempt to force the conversation back on track, Kisa finally asked the question he had wanted to ask from the start. Kisa's voice, and that of all the other Quartz students, began to ring all at once in Shirota's ears. (…Ah, right.)

With practice over, Shirota walked by himself down Tamasaka Hill. He had arrived at an old-fashioned patisserie a bit off of the main road. He spotted the place earlier on his way to the cafe. Even though it never seemed to run out of customers, it felt relaxed. "Welcome!" Within the store's lineup of colourful cakes stood a big round one with strawberries. But Shirota quickly averted his eyes. (Don't they have anything in a more reasonable size?) He moved to the line of cakes of far more modest size that fit just what he needed. Some seasonal fruit tarts caught his eye. "…Hi, I'd like to place an order. I'll have one of these fruit tarts. And…one strawberry shortcake." He paused a moment. "…The second one is pretty big, but I'll share it with my friends at school." Today was his birthday. This time next year, he would surely think back on this day and smile.

[ilikekidsshows]

I was watching a critique video on “Wish” (mostly talking about Magnifico but also the movie in general) and the creator made a interesting comment when talking about Asha’s motives in the film being a bit self-serving out of context - “If you have to have your main character all but look at the audience and say “Don’t worry - I’m a good person”, then you have not written a character whose actions can be read as that of a good person.”

And it made me think of how often MLB has to stop and go “Oh, but Marinette’s a good perfect girl” in the middle of her harassing someone for seemingly being interested in Adrien or causing a problem because she wanted to force herself into an event because Adrien was there. The fact they have to make the cast coddle and forgive Marinette even when she absolutely should get reamed out a little for whatever she did just reads as them knowing Marinette is acting selfishly but not having the guts to acknowledge it.

---

Bingo! Marinette is a coddled character, both in universe and out of it. Marinette's status as a "good person" relies on the audience being willing to overlook increasing amounts of increasingly awful behavior.

[riven-wanders]

Ooh, fun! Hozier, my beloved <3

So of course TMTC was my first Hozier song, I remember hearing it played everywhere. I was 11 when it came out, still very Christian, BUT I do distinctly remember hearing the song and thinking, "I don't think this is a Christian song." I COULD FUCKING TELL, and I was ELEVEN. I'm proud of myself for being able to use context clues at that age, lolllll.

Anyway, fast forward a couple years, I listen to TMTC again, I'm still Christian but I'm going back and forth on whether gay people are going to hell or not, and I really like the song but I feel really guilty about liking it, so I stop.

Fast forward more years, my relationship with Christianity is at it's tipping point, I'm at the "The Bible is real and true except for the parts about gay people because that doesn't make sense for a loving God to send them to hell" part of me deconstructing, and I keep getting a lyric video of Would That I in my YouTube recommended and event I click on it to listen, and I fucking love it, and I learn that it's the TMTC guy.

And I think it's still about a year later, right where I'm starting to realize that I might not be cis, and I stumble upon UU (it had released like two or three months before) and I listen to it and I fall down the rabbit hole, and god his music helped so much during a time that, looking back, was really stressful and scary for me. Hozier himself also was a massive help/pain, cause of course he's hot and I was attracted to him, but I also was finally able to realize that the deep pain and ache I felt underneath my attraction was gender envy.

So now I'm stuck here with unrealistic gender goals, lollll, cause he's like ethereally beautiful and perhaps not human just cause I don't think an average human man is capable of looking that pretty.

No pressure tags! And anyone else can hop on if they want to!

@roocomehome @catsandothergaystuff

@stellagalaxia @sillycartoonhozier

@more-mousebite @coconurt

OK so

Another tag and reblog game! (I love making these with my fav moots </3)

Tell me how u discovered your favourite music artist!

Ill tell you how I discovered mine (Michael Jackson♥️)

Okkk so like I was playing just dance (My fav game when I was little ^_^) and I saw the song "I want you back" by The Jackson 5 on. I had already heard of MJ so I was like "Ok I think he might have been in this band" so I ask my dad who was playing with me and he was! I was like "Ok cool!" Then i decided to listen to some of his music (Beat it was the first song I heard by him!) and HOLY SHIT THAT WAS THE DAY MY LIFE CHANGED FOREVER!!!!! I asked my dad to teach me more abt him and I know basically everything about him now, I have heard most of his songs by now and in case ur curious my fav song by him is "I just can't stop loving you" and my fav album is Bad (BAD IS BETTER THAN THRILLER CHANGE MY MIND!) and my fav Music Video is Smooth Criminal!

Also with Bowie:

It was like very close to valentines day this year and at the time I HATED Bowie with a passion (idk why cuz I had never even heard a single song by him) and "Starman" Came on the radio and I was like "OMG TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF" and my dad kept saying "you'll love Bowie if you give him a chance" and he was like "Y'know what, imma keep this on cuz you WILL like it" and he was right I guess! 😭

(REBLOG AND TAG MORE PPL U KNOW!)

@ziggy-stardust-is-in-love

@iiiidiotnathanieliii

@leoluvsbilkyjo

@i-heart-music38902

@leoluvsbilkyjo

[theheightsgod]

[ @forsxken-fxw - 007n7 + Builderman -> Telamon :D . Yaoi'ing that shit up frfr . also WHY IS THIS SO LONG I JUST LIKE PROVIDING CONTEXT - ]

*{ 007n7 was sitting on the main cabins couch with Builderman , contemplating on what to write on the note to slip under Telamon's door . It was finally time for their reconciliation . }*

*{ Pen tapping against his chin , Seven looked to Builder who was just as deep in thought . }*

❝ Any ideas ? ❞

*{ The other thought , before shaking his head . }*

❝ Nothin' . ❞

*{ The ex-exploiter sighed , trying to think hard . That was before the admin chirped in . }*

❝ . . Why don't we jus' wing it ? Pun not intended . ❞

*{ That got a small laugh from 007n7 , before he nodded in agreement . }*

❝ Perfect idea , Builder . The pun made it even better . ❞

*{ The support hummed as the survivalist quickly wrote something down , before passing it to Builderman to sign it for them . So Telamon knew they both were working together . }*

*{ They both quickly proofread it , nodded at each other , walled together to Telamon's cabin entrance , and slipped the note under his door . It read as follows ; }*

*{ ❝ Remember when you said you would talk to Builder about what happened ? I , 007n7 think it's time . I'll be present as well , unless you want me to leave , which I will ! If you accept , please come to the main cabin . Me and Builderman are waiting for you ! ! ❞ }*

*{ ❝ Signed , 007n7 and Builderman . ❞ }*

*{ Wow , you could tell who's handwriting was whos . Seven's slightly shaky writing was very different from Builder's pin straight letters . Showoff . }*

Telamon turns his head as he hears the note sliding under his door. At first he was suspicious because realistically who puts notes through the underside of a door? But then again there wasn’t really a sure way of communicating from far away unless you counted the walkie talkies— not like he had one though. He moves his legs off the side of his bed and stands up, stretching his wings. They were crudely preened, and not like the perfection he preferred.

It was because he was still struggling, memories of events like that just don’t go away easily. Neither does the guilt trip from the spectre, but he was trying. He actually still hadn’t left his cabin, but he did get up more often after seven visited him. Maybe he did have an influence on Telamon.

His talons clicked against the floor as he bent down to grab the note and then stood up to read it. He almost immediately grounds upon reading the first sentence, yeah. Yeah he did say that, but he never thought it would come so quickly! He wasn’t even sure he was actually ready. But he stares when he sees it’s signed by both of them, not just seven, but builderman.

Telamon’s grip tightens on the note but he takes a deep breath and walks back to his bed to leave it on the dresser. He sat on his bed for a few minutes, mentally preparing himself for this. But he eventually came out of his cabin and walked to the main cabin, hesitantly stepping inside.

[bloodfilledegg]

Not fully formulated yet but i have a lot of thoughts about the first gen of post-Divas WWE women who had to struggle to carve out the previously-unimaginable reality of a credible, legitimate mainstream pro wrestling women's division.

Yeah, compared to the relative creative freedom enjoyed by later wrestlers in women's divisions that now span multiple promotions, their characters can feel boring or flat. They could pick from the Girlboss, Sweetie-Pie, or Psycho-Scary variants of hyper-athletic workhorse. That's it. Those were the options. At the time, that was fresh, groundbreaking, envelope-pushing character work. No one was going to give them leeway to go even further out on a limb.

Anyway, I'm enjoying seeing some of these figures start to enjoy a little more creative character work. I think they all deserve long veteran runs just like Cena, Randy, Punk et al. and I hope they get to have fun with it, not too weighed down by their legacy and sense of duty and old habits. They seem to be starting to.

But I also don't think they're obligated to shed their characters like old skins and spend the waning years of their careers coming up with something "fresher" and "more interesting" than a boring old girlboss gimmick. Remembering the world of "Puppies! Puppies!" and desperate power struggles for matches longer than thirty seconds and title runs longer than a few days or weeks makes the untouchable girlboss gimmicks read very differently. At least to me.

Women's wrestling has evolved incredibly rapidly, thanks to relentless ambition and fight both in-ring and behind-the-scenes. It's easy to forget that it was only a decade ago that the long-entrenched world of Divas was just beginning to falter. The WWE Women's [World] Championship didn't exist. There had never been a women's Hell in a Cell, Royal Rumble, Money in the Bank, Elimination Chamber, or Queen of the Ring match. There had never been a full-time female referee. The women's tag team title wouldn't exist for years. It would still be over five years before black women would get a Wrestlemania main event. Viable alternative mainstream promotions like AEW were still years away.

Anyway, this is mostly a reminder to myself, but I wish we could all remember a little history and factor in a little context when we feel the impulse to roll our eyes or look down our noses at them from the luxury of our contemporary vantage point.

[egophiliac]

crossing my fingers and wishing upon every star that chapter 10 finally brings us the tweel cards 🤞🤞

[remastered-feedback]

Historically, both 1900s and 1930s were both pre-IIRIRA and thus I really don't see how 1900s or 1930s vs 2020s would make a difference.

That's why I pointed out things like the Johnson-Reed act and the Emergency Quota act that substantially changed the American immigrant experience between those time periods; an immigration system with hard caps on both the number of immigrants allowed per country, and a hard cap on the number of overall immigrants, is inarguably a sea change from one that didn't, and that's just two of the many laws that implemented substantial changes in that roughly 40 year window.

When I explained the historical context that I felt informed the character's backstory and why that led me to the conclusions it did, you responded by saying that my beliefs about the history were wrong and that I should "look into that further rather than going from vibes," and followed it up with an example from 1938. The reason I have been bringing up the history since then is because

A. I wasn't speaking based on vibes, I was speaking based on my understanding of the history, so I found the notion that I drew that conclusion without actually researching the basis for my belief and effectively just formed it based on a hunch to be dismissive and insulting.

B. I wanted to provide an explanation for that historical understanding, because while I am open to being wrong (it has happened many times and it will happen many more over my lifetime), I want to know how and why I'm wrong so I can properly course-correct. If the other person is assuming that I am going on nothing but a gut feeling, I want to provide the evidence and reasoning for why I believe what I do, because if someone doesn't know why someone believes something, how can a response that properly educates away misconceptions be formed?

C. As I feel I've laid out decently, I believe that the tragedy of the St. Louis is from a very different era as far as American immigration law is concerned, and because of that, like I said, I felt like we were talking about completely different historical eras when you brought it up as an example of why my beliefs were incorrect. If I had been ambiguous about the time period I was referring to I could understand, but I fairly clearly said in my initial response that I was referring to "the immigration laws that existed in the US at the time Siegel and Schuster's parents came to the US" and those were vastly different than what existed in 1938.

Especially considering the similar atmosphere around immigration in society at the time the comics were written and today. History didn't stop when Schuster's parents didn't come to the US and Schuster was obviously aware of various sentiments in society when he was writing Superman.

I never said that history stopped, or that either creator wasn't aware what was happening. What I said was that I believe the authors drew on their own experiences and family histories to inform those of the character they were writing. Neither one of their families fled European persecution in the 1930s, both families fled Europe in the 1890s/1900s. I am not discounting the events of the 1930s as unimportant or as something lost on the Siegel or Shuster, I am saying that if their family histories informed that writing, then the atmosphere and events of the 1890s/1900s are more central to understanding the character.

Also, again, why are you assuming it would be different now? Given that Refugee children and unaccompanied children and foreign adopted children still are phenomenon that exist.

Because there are different laws on the books now. Requirements on income, employment, and employable skills are much higher than they were 120 years ago, the process to become an American citizen now is radically different. Like I said before, without doing a deep dive into the immigration filings and economic standings of both families when they were in Europe, it is impossible to have a 100% certain answer on whether both families would've experienced more or less hardship in the process as it exists today. (And if such a deep dive does exist and I just can't find it, let me know and I will read away so I can be properly informed) But based on the overall historical trend over the course of the 20th and 21st centuries, I believe it would be a far more difficult experience.

I haven't seen the new movie yet, but the whole "Woke Superman" thing is so weird to me because like...Superman has been an investigative reporter at a large legacy newspaper since the mid 1930s. Lex Luthor has been an evil real estate mogul bribing corrupt politicians since the late 70s/early 80s. "Superman works for a major newspaper and fights an evil rich dude" has been the gist of the story longer than most people who worked on the new movie have been alive.

Even if we gloss over people somehow not clocking that Superman has literally always been an undocumented alien from another planet, this isn't some left-field new direction for the character dynamic between Lex and Superman, this is the status quo between them for roughly the last 50 years.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[zondearts]

I was casually reading an event before bedtime (as you do) and the sudden urge to draw Minori holding a big bird (of any kind) hit me so hard, I stood up to make a quick sketch in the dark of night... that was days ago, here's a better drawing

[firestorm09890]

Penny stardewvalley makes me so sad because she's SO sensitive to, like, basically everything you tell her (telling her that you can't stand children while two children are nearby is a pretty lousy move but -1500 friendship?? being a jerk to other characters' faces typically loses you about 50 points, and if you choose the option labeled "creepy" and ask Leah for a kiss in her 2 heart event she physically hits you and kicks you out of her house but that's only -100 friendship…) and so if you want to befriend her it's a whole lot of lying and tiptoeing around her feelings (2 hearts: George was right but saying that makes her feel bad. 6 hearts: her food sucks but even if you try to be polite about it she feels like a failure; only a bald-faced lie pleases her. 8 hearts: saying you don't want to be tied down with a family loses you a little bit of friendship and she's only happy if you say you want kids) and I can't help but think she's a product of her environment. She lives in a trailer with only her mother, who gets drunk every night and has something of a temper. Penny's like a skittish rescue animal who won’t even come out from hiding under something unless you leave her lots of treats

[suja-janee]

This is kinda relating to my last post but I think some of you are mistaking Shen for an albino peacock.. cause he’s not

I mean, I don’t really blame you if you mistook him as one cause honestly I’m just a weirdo who reads wikis.

(skip everything and just read the bottom if you don’t wanna read my explanation)

.

.

Shen is a peacock with leucism, not albinism.

(Leucism definition on the left, albinism on the right)

Here’s him compared to an actual albino peacock. As you can see, the albino has a pink and white pigmentation due to a lack of melanin, whereas Shen despite being mostly white is still full of color.

(And no, it’s not because it’s a silly cartoon. The creators of KFP had originally intended to make him albino to make him look “sickly” which would explain why he was neglected by his parents. They made the decision to scrap that in favor of having him be a peacock with leucism so there was no excuse or tragic backstory to justify his entitlement and actions)

.

.

And if you REALLY don’t believe my explanation, here’s the KFP wiki page backing me up!

[memento-morri-writes]

Rook's Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Day

(Aka, just one part of Rook's first Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Weekend. (he's had two of those.))

I posted a small portion of this yesterday, but I'm just so obsessed with this scene, and I figured it's time I shared a slightly more complete version of it so you guys have a little bit more context. There's actually a lot more because a whole 'nother very intense conversation happened after this one, but that's for anther time. Enjoy getting stabbed in the heart several times in quick succession! pov: Rook wordcount: 1.7k character(s): The Liars [Rook (D&D), Sigmar (NPC)] canon status: canon session rewrite trigger warnings: mentions of death, suicidal behavior, and self-harm; implied self-sacrifice. (yk, usual Rook stuff.) summary: Rook wakes up after collapsing in the middle of a tavern. His mentor, Sigmar, interrogates him about the circumstances leading to his collapse. Note: I can only take credit for some of this, since the dialogue is as close to a direct transcript of the dnd session as I could manage. You can thank my amazing DM for all of Sigmar's gut punches here. [read on ao3]

Rook comes to consciousness slowly, his mind fuzzy from sleep. He slowly opens his eyes, blinking them several times before he registers a wood-beamed ceiling. Where is he? He raises his head ever-so-slightly, looking around. The room comes into focus, semi-familiar. This is his room at the tavern. He has no memory of going to bed. The last thing he remembers is entering the tavern after the fight, and then…

Footsteps draw his attention away from that mystery. “Rook, you’re awake!” Sigmar rushes over to Rook’s bedside, relief clearly visible on his face. “You were out for twelve hours.” Seeing the question forming on Rook’s face he adds, “You fainted last night. It was… concerning to say the least.”

Rook slowly sits up as Sigmar continues talking. “What happened to you? I knew things were rough for you after we talked on the way here but the way you looked last night… you’re lucky to be alive.”

“I wasn’t.” The words are off his tongue and out of his mouth before Rook can process what he’s saying. “I wasn’t, yesterday.”

Sigmar peers closer at Rook, concern mounting on his face. “You weren’t what,  Rook.”

Again, he speaks without thinking. “Alive. I wasn’t alive yesterday.”

The color drains from Sigmar’s face. “What do you mean? What do you mean you weren’t alive yesterday?” 

Rook is taken aback by the forcefulness in Sigmar’s voice. Why does he sound so worried? Slowly, parsing out the words to keep from stumbling over them, he says, “Wolf sent an assassin after me. She succeeded.”

Sigmar’s brow furrows and his voice get louder. “Why didn’t you tell me?” When Rook doesn’t respond he adds, “Who saved you?”

“Aki. At least, I think it was him. I woke up and he was next to me.”

A flash of surprise crosses Sigmar’s face before vanishing, obscured by a new wave of concern. “What caused this? You looked terrible last night.” There’s a thread of something that sounds vaguely like fear in Sigmar’s voice as he says it, which catches Rook by surprise.

Rook takes a long moment to think. He can’t tell Sigmar the truth, at least not the whole truth. He’d tell the rest of the party immediately, and they’d all be in danger again. Rook settles on a partial truth. 

“I haven’t been sleeping.” He thinks hard, trying to remember the details. “I don’t think I’ve slept more than a couple of hours in the past two weeks.”

Sigmar’s jaw drops. “With that little sleep, you’re lucky to be alive.” He looks at Rook closely, inspecting his face. Rook shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. “What has been keeping you from sleeping?”

Again Rook pauses, taking a moment to consider his answer. “I don’t know. I can’t fall asleep and when I do I wake up again shortly after.”

Sigmar narrows his eyes. “I’ve told you: you and I are the same. We’re both liars. So don’t lie to me.”

An answer pops into Rook’s head and he puts conviction behind it, laying on false hesitation as if he’s revealing a big secret. “It’s Captain Wolf. Ever since I ran into her again, I haven’t been able to sleep. I keep having nightmares. About her.”

Sigmar stares at Rook for a long moment before seeming to accept the answer. A sense of relief floods Rook’s body. His secret is safe, for now. 

“Why are you doing this?” Sigmar asks, breaking the silence.

Rook blinks at him, uncomprehending. “Doing what? Coming to Torsek?”

Sigmar nods. “You’ve been pushing yourself to your limits, throwing your life on the line over and over again. Why? You’re endangering yourself, you’ve even died,”  Rook could have sworn he heard Sigmar’s voice waver on that word. “But you keep doing it. What could possibly be worth that?”

An answer leaps to Rook’s lips. “Because they need me.” It comes out quietly, but seems deafening in the empty room.

Sigmar leans back slightly, eyes widening in surprise. He looks Rook up and down, as if he’s reevaluating him. 

Without thinking, Rook adds, “You’re one of them.”

Sigmar, who has opened his mouth to speak, closes it again. He regards Rook for a long time. Eventually he says, “Your motivations may be more noble than mine, but at heart we act for the same reasons. I know you have not felt the care of a parent the same way I did…” He trails off momentarily, then continues, “But you are desperate for love all the same. I do everything in hopes of someday committing an act that will make the world love me. You, you act in hopes that the Vanguard will love you.” He looks Rook directly in the eyes, face serious. “You’re a fool.”

Rook says nothing, unable to summon up any kind of response to that statement. Sigmar continues, “The Vanguard does nothing but show you love, try to help you. They attempt to show you their love over, and over again. But you refuse to accept it.”

The words hit Rook like a slap, and he opens his mouth to retort, but Sigmar pushes ahead. “Instead of accepting their love, you throw yourself recklessly into danger, putting your life on the line again and again. You’re killing yourself, Rook.”

Rook’s eyes blaze with anger. He isn’t killing himself at all. He doesn’t want to die, far from it. He fights viciously for his life in every battle. He snaps back, “I’m not killing myself.”

Sigmar’s reply is swift and painful, like a bullet from his gun. “You might as well be.”

Rook finds himself speechless. What the hell is Sigmar talking about? He crosses his arms and turns away, refusing to meet the other man’s gaze.

A long silence stretches between them. Sigmar finally breaks it by saying, “I’ll help you. I just need to know that you’re telling me the truth.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, much softer than the whip-like tone from a moment earlier. 

Rook looks up at him. “I am telling the truth.” 

Sigmar frowns. “Rook, I told you, don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

“You are. I know your tells.”

Arms still firmly crossed, Rook keeps his gaze fixed on the floor. He won’t – can’t – tell Sigmar the truth. 

Sigmar seems to realize that Rook plans to stay silent, and sighs. “I can start listing off my theories. My ideas as to what’s keeping you from sleeping.”

Rook says nothing, still looking at the floor. His eyes follow the grain of the wood as it meanders through the planks.

“Did Maka do this to you?”

Before he can stop himself, Rook’s head whips upwards, mouth falling open in shock. “What? No!” 

Sigmar merely nods, and Rook is hit with a sudden feeling that he may have just played right into Sigmar’s trap. Rook turns away again, trying to find the same grain on the same plank he had been before Sigmar had spoken.

“I’ve felt the same symptoms as you are now, but lesser, once before. Do you still bear Furicifer’s curse?”

A chill runs down Rook’s spine. He forces his voice to stay steady and calm as he says “Furicifer was banished. He’s gone.”

Sigmar is silent for a long moment, and Rook’s heart begins to race. Surely Sigmar will believe that. It’s not far off from the truth.

When Sigmar speaks, it almost knocks the air from Rook’s lungs. “I told you not to lie to me.” His voice is deadly serious, simmering with anger. As he begins to speak again, it grows in intensity, though still quiet. “What in the gods’ names were you thinking? We need to get rid of him.”

Rook interrupts him, voice firm. “I can’t. If I lose this curse, Furicifer is free to return to the material plane.”

Sigmar shakes his head. “We’ll find a better demonologist. Someone stronger than this Dr. Zayeed.”

Without thinking, Rook blurts out, “You promised you’d help me!”

Sigmar immediately falls silent, looking at him. His face is a mixture of sadness, concern, and something else that Rook can’t quite read. He stares at Rook until Rook grows uncomfortable, looking away. “I have two options here. I can enable you, help you continue to hide this from the rest of the party. Or I can tell them. Let them try and talk some sense into you.”

“I can’t.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you can. Tell the party and-”

“I can’t.” Rook’s voice shakes, but his tone is determined. 

“Why not?” Sigmar snaps back.

“It was them or me.” The words are out too fast, and Rook regrets them the minute they’re out. But he looks up, meeting Sigmar’s gaze. He says again, softer, but more steady, “It was them or me.”

A long silence passes, and Rook eventually looks away. He stares at the ground for  a long, long time, before he sees something enter his field of vision. Sigmar’s hand, holding one of the pills he’d made. Rook looks up at him, surprised. “Take it.” Slowly, Rook reaches out and grabs the pill. 

He swallows it quickly, downing it before the taste can manifest on his tongue. Energy floods his body. Though he feels miles better than the day before, he hadn’t realized how much exhaustion still lingered in his body. 

Sigmar grabs a pouch, presumably holding the other pills in it, and holds it out to him. Rook reaches for it, but Sigmar pulls it back. “I’ll help you on one condition.” Rook stares at him, but says nothing. “If your condition worsens again, I’m telling the party. And if you’re in your right mind, you’ll be telling them too.”

Rook’s shoulder slump in defeat. He needs the medicine desperately. He looks down at the floor again as he says, barely louder than a whisper, “Fine.”

Sigmar places the pouch in his hand and turns towards the door. “The rest of the party will want to see you.” 

As he reaches the door, hand on the knob, Rook speaks. “Thank you.” The words are quiet, but genuine, tinged by the weight of Rook’s desperation. Sigmar’s hand hesitates on the doorknob, but he doesn’t reply or turn back before he opens the door. As he walks off down the hall, Rook can hear him calling out to the party, “Rook’s awake.”

[flowerakatsuka]

[ messy ass sprite edit ] youkai au, but if it was cooler & sexier ( aka they let these losers have anything besides their fuck ass bowl cuts. )

[northssketchbook]

Her name is still tbd, but here's a lovely bard^^ The inspiration going is still strong for expanding my ffxiv character's stories.

[lynchianstoner]

I watched Saturday Night Main Event in two parts and I'm so glad I did

It was everything but the header match last night, watching the header tonight, and I just wanna say

I'm so fucking happy Cody Rhodes didn't let Cena ruin the match. I. Was. FUMING. When that man came into the ring and started beating the shit out of Jey when he had the match.

My thoughts on the other fights I was personally invested in:

The steel cage was brutal but I kind of was hoping Damian would go further as opposed to just walking away? I respect him getting that final word so to speak though, that was cool on like, a symbolic level

Also the tag team match was a really good one. I knew Rollins would pull someone out, he's such a devious heel but it's kinda cool coming from him because I personally don't know who he's going to come out with. I feel so bad for Sami Zayn and CM Punk though, they didn't deserve that shit