#and they acknowledged that they can’t take that kind of thing for granted

[petrichormore]

Alright time for me to once again defend q!BBH and his paranoia. (Everything following is about the characters, not the CCs)

Um. Yeah the paranoia is warranted.

The paranoia that his friends are now holding against him is the very same paranoia that has saved lives repeatedly in the past. Nothing about his circumstances have changed enough to warrant being any less paranoid, and it’s not as though his friends didn’t know about his paranoia beforehand. It’s been a consistent part of him, of course he’s not gonna be fully trusting of even his closest friends. Because here’s the thing people don’t seem to understand: he never was.

He never fully trusted Forever. He never fully trusted Baghera. He probably never will. He trusts them as much as he possibly can, but not fully. I see a lot of people criticizing his distrust of them as though he hasn’t already stretched far beyond his comfort zone for them. As if he hasn’t given them access to his base. As if he hasn’t already told them he trusts them, as much as he is able.

Which, by the way, he would be completely in the right to disallow them access to his base - it’s his house. And also, because it’s election season everyone is hiding themselves on the map and distrusting each other - it’s not just him being paranoid.

Especially the hiding-on-the-map thing; I’m not gonna be a hypocrite and say it’s wrong of them to hide themselves when it’s ultimately their decision but in doing so they’ve forced Bad into a position where allowing them access to his house is now too much for him. Except he can’t revoke access because he’s scared they’ll react negatively. Which I imagine they will, even if he comes forward and tells them ahead of time which I’ve seen people suggesting. He’s outright stated that the main reasons he’s concerned with people hiding themselves on the map is 1. because if an egg is an danger he won’t be able to find them and 2. (specifically with forever and baghera) they can now enter his house or be around him without him knowing even while he’s online. That’s too much for his paranoia, which is fair.

“Oh, but he’ll lose the support of his friends if he can’t constantly prove he trusts them in a way that they approve of.” He can’t give them something he doesn’t have. Something he’s never had, for as long as they’ve known him. He cares so much about everyone on the island, even people he doesn’t like, and if his friends turn against him just because he won’t let them use his villagers then damn he’ll… probably just keep caring for them anyway. Because that’s just what he does. Bad is a person that cares very much and trusts very little.

[toxycodone]

i want swansea to finger me. i ❤️ fat men

ship. swansea x reader

content. fingering, reader is gender neutral but they do kinda ride his face

Jesus Christ.

Swansea’s had enough of this. Pony Express in general has always been on his ass, making him scoff and roll his eyes at every idiotic new rule or exception they make with hauls. But this one really takes the cake.

Having his fellow crewmate spread eagle on his work bench is fucking ridiculous.

Why do they keep hiring young people? He supposes it’s because they’re cheap, and this company’s the most penny pinching business in the game. But the costs surely outweigh the benefits.

They’re stupid, inexperienced. They can’t keep it their pants, and the effects of the haul start doing numbers on their psyche much quicker that the others. The tension between you two was palpable. Swansea could see the way you eye fucking him clear as day despite all his attempts to keep you focused on work at hand.

Fuck it. He huffs. He’ll take care of this himself. He’s not dying to some stupid mistake you make because you’re two busy imagining getting your guts rearranged to actually focus.

“Can’t believe this shit…”

Swansea hisses. His thick fingers trail down the expanse of your thigh, causing you to shudder.

Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh? He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so preoccupied with annoyance. But he can’t fully blame you. Swansea’s been there before. The hormones pumping through your body are begging you to fuck. Going without a good orgasm is torture to someone your age.

Good thing he’s here. A rugged, experienced individual like him. Yeah. Making a young thing like you fall apart on his fingers will be a piece of cake. You probably don’t know any better, anyways. Years of experience have polished him into quite the lover.

The thick callouses on his fingers force your thighs open, spreading your sex out in clear view. Swansea tsks, trying to fight back the heat that flares through his body at the sight.

“Not only do I gotta watch over you. Show you the ropes, keep you from killing yourself every ten damn seconds—but I gotta get you off too? The fuck does Pony Express think I am, some kind of prostitute?”

The least they could do is give him a raise. Fucking cheapskates. They probably think putting some young, hot piece of ass glued to his hip is a favor for him. Fuck it, they should’ve just been transparent and invested in a barracks bunny. It would save him the constant headache of having to train you.

“You better not take this for granted, kid. Once you’re spent, I’m expectin’ you to work twice as hard next shift.”

It’s a serious declaration. You better haul ass once he’s done this for you. Swansea’s large hand hovers right near where you want him. You feverishly nod in agreement. Whatever it takes to get those digits inside you as soon as possible.

“Good. Lay back and enjoy this, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it often.”

He would, though. If you asked again. Swansea’s hand moves down the expanse of your thigh, settling over your sex. He trails his thumb down your outer lips a few times, humming in acknowledgement at the wetness that coats your pubes and spreads from his movements.

“Already wet too? God, you’re easy. Or have you been waitin’ for a chance like this?”

His question is rhetorical, obviously, because the way his thumb starts to round your clit has you throwing your head back—blocking any answer that would’ve come out. Swansea knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s had his wife spread like this plenty of times, so it only takes a few movements and studying your facial expression before he finds what pressure and movements have you grinding back into his touch. He’s even sure to pay attention to the underside of clit, poking the sensitive head from its hood just enough to make you jump.

The attention makes you embarrassingly wet. Just from the older man stroking your sensitive bud, he’s already got your hips bucking and wanton moans leaving your lips. Is this how guys feel when they jerk off? Because the way Swansea’s got you coming apart with ease has you inching closer and closer with each passing second.

And when he stops, you whimper. It’s pathetic. But you’re too damn horny to give a shit at this point. Being stuck on the Tulpar has left you at the mercy of your own hand and imagination. Having someone else touch you for once is electrifying.

“Don’t bitch.” Swansea commands gruffly, adjusting himself in his work chair. You notice there's a gentle flush to his cheeks, but his eyes remain focused on your bottom half. His fingers stroke your slit again. The way he’s eyeing the slick that coats it is a little embarrassing—as if he’s assessing something. His middle finger pushes past your entrance, and at the sign of little resistance, the older man smirks. He adds his index finger in the midst of the third stroke, but keeps the pace slow.

Good Lord, his fingers are thick. Almost as thick as he is. They’re rough, thoroughly calloused from years of working with his hands. You can feel that texture on your inner walls as they split you open. Swansea’s thrusting them into you slowly still, but deliberate. Yes, he’s trying to get you closer and closer to that pending orgasm, but—

A choke moan escapes your lips when he finds it, that one spot inside you that makes your stomach drop.

“Right there, eh?” He’s smirking.

Those wide fingers curl around your g-spot, hitting it just right with each movement of his hand. He’s relentless, thumping against the area and speeding up his strokes. Your eyes roll back, vision blurred by stars as your orgasm comes tumbling towards you.

And you think that’s it, but the feeling of stubble against your thigh has you second guessing. Before you know it, Swansea’s lips seal around your slit. His other arm wraps around your thigh, fingers resting above your slit and pulling upwards to make the bud poke out at him for easier access. Your own hips involuntarily start to buck and grind against the older man’s face, smearing a mix of slick and saliva over his mouth and nose as you fuck yourself against it.

You cum quicker than you ever had in your life on his face. Never, ever have you been more thankful for Utility being so secluded from other parts of the ship. The sounds you make echo from the walls as you tense up and shudder. Vibrations from Swansea chuckling between your thighs make you whine as he continues to fuck you through your own release.

Your chest rises and falls with shaky pants as you fall limp onto the cold steel of the bench. With a hazy mind tingling body, you lie there, trying to recollect yourself after your superior just made you cum like that.

Swansea, ever so eager to stay on task, kicks back from the workbench, idly licking his fingers clean.

“Now you better pull yourself together, kid. We gotta job to do, y’hear?”

He tosses your clothes from the floor back at you. You take a few moments to gather yourself, before attempting to straighten things up. Swansea’s left the Utility room now—likely on the way to the bathroom to wash his own hands and start on his next task.

But on reflection, before you can tug your pants back on and get to work, you notice something off.

Your underwear’s gone.

(And somewhere, Swansea’s enjoying his new prize.)

[jjkamochoso]

Braids and Mochi Escapades

Fluff

Obanai x female reader

Mitsuri braids reader’s hair, Obanai can’t handle the cuteness!

Warnings: none

Being a hashira, your life involved seeing lots of blood, guts, and other horrible things. It didn’t consist of much light and happiness but that all changed one day when you seized the opportunity to work with another hashira and your whole perspective on life changed. You had never had so much fun than when you and Mitsuri slayed demons together. She was a formidable opponent and even taught you many skills you now utilized in your own missions. Not to mention, she was kind, funny, and naturally, very loving. These were traits you had embodied before your life darkened because of demons but Mitsuri showed you that you could still embrace and seek out good times even when all else seems hopeless. That’s how you found yourself having a sleepover with the Love Hashira after your semi annual hashira meeting was adjourned. The hashiras were all granted a few days’ rest before accepting any more missions so when Mitsuri invited you over for a girl’s night, you couldn’t say no (Shinobu did, though—she was always busy with some sort of research). You ordered as much sakura mochi the kitchen could begrudgingly make for you guys and made your way to Mitsuri’s room to hang out while the food was being prepared. You didn’t have the chance to announce yourself before her screen opened and the excitable girl wrapped you in a hug.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking forward to this all day! Come in, come in!”

She dragged you inside and you let out a sigh of relief when her strong grip finally released you. Putting down your futon and extra blankets, you felt your stomach flutter with happiness. You hadn’t had a sleepover since you were very young and were relishing the fact you could have a normal few days without the stressors of being a hashira.

“I ordered us sakura mochi from the kitchens, I hope that’s alright,” you said, a bit shy. You knew it was her favorite but you didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Your worries were instantly quelled by the huge smile that graced her face as she pulled you in for another hug, thank you’s flowing out of her mouth nonstop. You giggled, already feeling content at how the night was going and you hadn’t been there for over a minute.

“So, is there anything in particular you want to do while we wait? I’m not well versed on sleepover activities yet, I apologize,” you said sheepishly.

Mitsuri just gave you a kind smile. “Don’t apologize! Tonight’s going to be so much fun! Ooh! I know! I can braid your hair!”

You instantly lit up. You were always envious of how pretty Mitsuri’s hair was and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t tried her signature hairstyle on yourself many times. However, you could never make it look as cute as she does so you were ecstatic that she would bestow her skills upon your head. She brought over a box of ribbons, all different colors of the rainbow, to tie at the ends of your hair as you released the pulled back style you had kept your strands in. When Mitsuri sat behind you and began to gently detangle your hair, you felt a wave of relaxation run through you. It felt nice to have someone so eager to take care of you for a change. You two basked in the comfortable silence until the talkative girl spoke up.

“So, y/n, do you have a crush on anyone?”

Your eyes that were previously closed opened up in a flash. Of course she would ask that, she’s the Love Hashira! But you were embarrassed that you had allowed yourself to succumb to such a weakness like love. Not even love, just unrequited affection toward a man that barely acknowledged you. It was humiliating to let her know of the truth of your heart but you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie to her.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever had the chance to lay eyes on but we’ve only spoken once out of all the years we’ve known each other. I watch him from afar but refuse to speak to him first out of fear. It’s shameful, I know.”

You were glad she couldn’t see your face as you spoke because you weren’t used to being this vulnerable. You were pleasantly surprised when she kept braiding, not skipping a beat.

“Oh, y/n, that’s so romantic! Pining and yearning are just two pillars of the many that make up love. It’s not shameful. Love is a complicated thing, especially for us, but if you face fear head on you’ll find that most things aren’t as scary as you think they might be. If you like him, he must have a good heart. Don’t be afraid to strike up conversation. He’ll come around eventually.”

You didn’t know how she did it but you instantly felt better. “You’re right, Mitsuri. Thank you.”

A few seconds passed.

“May I know who it is that’s captured your heart?”

You grimaced, knowing this would happen. “Um, I’m not sure I-”

“It’s probably Tengen, isn’t it? He’s so dreamy! If you’re into guys like that. Wait, you two have spoken many times so that doesn’t fit your description. Ugh, it isn’t Giyuu, is it?”

You tried your best not to laugh. Poor Giyuu, you didn’t know why no one liked him but even though you held a soft spot in your heart for him, it was the wrong man.

“No. Different raven haired man.”

She went quiet for a moment before gasping. “Obanai?”

You shook your head slightly in affirmation and she let out a high pitched squeal, inadvertently yanking on your finished braid in excitement. “Oh my gosh! You like Obanai? That’s so cute! You HAVE to talk to him, he’s such a sweetie!”

You grabbed onto your tender scalp in an attempt to soothe it after she almost ripped out all of your strands. “Now that the whole compound knows of my feelings,” you muttered, “I think my confidence to face him is completely shattered.”

Mitsuri gave you a pouty face. “No, don’t say that! You’re a beautiful girl and any man would be lucky to have you. He’s shy, you’re shy, it’s a tough combination but if you’ll allow me, I can tell him of your affections to see where it goes.”

“Oh, that’s alright, no need. If it’s meant to be, it will be. But thank you. And thank you for this gorgeous hair! Maybe this will give me the confidence boost I need to approach Obanai.” You gave the pink and green haired girl a hug and then inspected her work in a mirror. She had tied your (h/c) hair with ribbons, but they were mismatched colors. You were going to ask if she did that on accident before the realization of what the colors reminded you of set in. She had used one yellow ribbon and one turquoise ribbon, perfectly coordinating with Obanai’s eyes. Your mouth hung open in shock as Mitsuri giggled at your reaction.

“I hope you don’t mind! I was originally going to use just turquoise but when you mentioned your feelings for Obanai I thought this might be a way for you to feel closer to him. And it’s a great conversation starter.”

You gave her another huge hug, amazed at and grateful for her quick thinking. “Now that you’ve got me looking this good, we’re ready to get our food!”

Mitsuri clapped her hands in excitement and grabbed your arm as you two raced out the door of her room and into the warm summer night. The hot, sticky air permeated through your haori and left a slight sheen of sweat on your skin. You took a second to appreciate the quiet stillness of the compound, the smell of wisteria giving you comfort. You knew it was impossible for demons to be around, so why did it still feel like someone was watching you intently in secret? You shook it off, thinking you just weren't allowing yourself to let your guard down.

You laughed a little, turning to Mitsuri. "I'm not used to this relaxation time-"

She was gone. You would've been majorly freaked out if you hadn't spotted her entering a building beyond where you stood. Maybe her appetite turned ravenous and couldn't wait another second for food so she ran to the kitchen? You were confused and ready to catch up with her but your attention was turned to the rustling noise from above you. You stood under a wisteria tree and hanging over your braided head was a snake. Its white body slithered through the branches, staring at you and occasionally sticking its tongue out. You weren't familiar with snake behaviors but this one seemed friendly enough so you cautiously reached your hand toward it in an attempt to pet it. It didn't bite you when your fingers touched its smooth head so you took that as a good sign. You were extremely surprised, though, when it fell out of the branches, instead opting to rest on your shoulders. You tried to calm your breathing and before you could get too freaked out at your predicament, you almost facepalmed in realization that there was nothing to worry about. It was Kaburamaru, Obanai's snake friend, that had found his way to you. You were both looking at each other with curious eyes and you gave him a smile, trying to guess at what he was thinking.

"Mitsuri did my hair, Kaburamaru! That's why I look different. Though you probably recognized me by my scent from the other meetings you've attended, hmm?"

Being a snake, he obviously didn't answer you, but he did seem like he understood what you were saying, so you kept talking. "Are you hungry? We could try and find some frogs at the pond if you'd like."

He lifted his head and you could've sworn he shook it in disagreement.

"Alright then. Should we go find Obanai? It's a little late for you to be out here all by yourself."

"He's not by himself."

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Obanai's voice from above you. You looked up and saw the bandaged face of your crush peering at you from some higher up branches, nearly in the same position you had found Kaburamaru.

"O-Obanai! I apologize for not greeting you. I hadn't noticed your presence." You bowed and hoped he would forgive you. He climbed out of the tree and landed at your feet, black hair moving effortlessly around him. Your mouth went dry and any words that could've been said had died in your throat the moment your eyes met his. He was even more beautiful at ground level when you could observe him up close. His eyes glistened in the full moon's light that blessed the Master's compound. The man of short stature had such a strong, powerful aura about him that almost made you dizzy, yet was so intoxicating that it drew you in. Neither of you shared any words for the next minute or so, unsure of what to say.

"Your hair's... different," muttered Obanai, taking in your appearance and then suddenly looking away.

"Mitsuri did it for me! I was telling Kaburamaru all about it. He seemed to notice as well," you said, the warmth of embarrassment creeping on your face as you registered that what you said suggested that you were conversing with a snake. If Obanai didn't think you were a weirdo before, he definitely did now.

"He's very perceptible," Obanai agreed, making you feel at ease about your previous panic. You two found yourselves in another awkward silence and you prayed to any god that would listen that Mitsuri would come back with your food soon.

"So what brings you out here this time of night?" you asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you despised small talk."

Your eyes opened the tiniest bit wider. How had he known that? You barely interacted with him in all the years you had worked together yet he was aware of that little fact about you. Had he been noticing you all this time and you were too ignorant to see it?

"I do." You took in a breath. Time to be brave, y/n. "I just... wanted to talk to you. About anything. Get to know you better." Now it was your turn to look away as you cringed at how that sounded. You wished you had gone to Tengen for flirting lessons before ever coming in contact with Obanai.

"Why?"

Your head turned back to face him again as you answered with a shrug. "Because you're interesting." And because you're ridiculously handsome and I'm hopelessly in love with you!

His eyes narrowed. "Interesting enough to mock me with your hair bows?" He pointed accusingly to your hair, the ends of your mismatched ribbons adorning Kaburamaru as he continuously slid over your body.

"What? No, you have the wrong idea! I swear, I'm not mocking you, I-" You didn't know how to respond and your time was running out before Obanai hated your guts. You resigned to telling him the truth; you'd rather be hated for that than for something that was blatantly false. "I told Mitsuri I found you handsome but was too shy to speak to you so she thought matching the ribbons to your eyes would be a way for me to feel closer to you." He had an unreadable look on his face and you wished you could melt into a puddle on the ground and evaporate away from this conversation. You reached your hands to your hair and began to undo the ribbons. "It was a bad idea, I'm sorry for-"

"N-no! Don't!" Obanai's hands shot out so fast you never saw them coming. He grasped your fingers, stopping them from their job of removing the ribbon. When you felt his cool skin on yours, goosebumps made their way across your entire being. "They look pretty. Y-you look... pretty." Was it a trick of the light or was Obanai... blushing? You couldn't believe your ears. Did he just call you pretty? You thought your night was going to be amazing just being at a sleepover with your friend and now your crush was practically holding your hand and calling you pretty. Obanai was about to remove his hand from yours when Kaburamaru quickly wrapped himself around your conjoined appendages, not allowing either of you to let go. The Serpent Hashira was left in a state of blushing and stuttering apologies for his friend's indecencies and you were certain the snake was laughing at you both.

As if summoned by pounding heartbeats and gauche attempts at confessing feelings, Mitsuri finally appeared, copious amounts of sakura mochi toppling out of the bags she held.

"Oh my gosh, you two are SO cute together! Did y/n finally tell you that she likes you?" She asked Obanai, mochi flying out of her mouth as she took another bite. As he was always someone who had a snarky comeback or venomous reply, you had never seen him unable to produce words like at this moment when he was floundering for the right thing to say.

"I, well... she, umm... What's it to you anyway?" He finally spit out, but Mitsuri just laughed.

"I'm the LOVE Hashira, silly, I'm the expert at this stuff. Although, I must admit, Kaburamaru did most of my heavy lifting, didn't you?" She beamed at him as he finally released you and Obanai from each other to receive a big helping of raw meat from the pink and green haired girl. You stared at her incredulously.

"You're telling me that you worked together with a snake to set us up?"

"Kaburamaru found me earlier today and brought me to Shinazugawa who told me that he was tired of Obanai dancing around his feelings for you, y/n. He also mentioned that Obanai was probably talking about you nonstop to his closest friend, Kaburamaru, and that he was also done with the inaction. So, we devised a plan and now here we are. Isn't that adorable?"

"I told you he was perceptive," said Obanai, clearly embarrassed, but you found the whole thing to be strangely sweet. You decided it was time to get back to your sleepover where you and Mitsuri could fangirl over this moment for the rest of the night so you bid Obanai and his snake farewell. Before you could turn away to leave, Obanai got your attention one last time.

"I hope that one day I'll be strong and worthy enough to speak of my truest, deepest feelings for you myself, but until then," he reached up to pick a small bunch of wisteria off the tree and tucked it behind your ear, "please accept this gift and the meaning I've imposed on it."

You smiled shyly. "Thank you Obanai. I hope our paths continue to cross in the future." As you made your way back into Mitsuri's room, Obanai watched you until you closed the screen door behind you and for a little while after that. He couldn't promise to love you in a conventional way, but he swore from that day on, he would keep you as safe as possible in this unpredictable world you lived in.

BONUS:

On the day of the hashira's departure from the safety of Ubuyashiki's lands, you felt your heart sink at the remembrance of the danger you and Obanai had to go back out and face. However, your aching chest was abated by the raven haired man that entered your view, timidly thrusting a lump of something into your palms. You quickly unraveled the folded fabric and you were greeted with two knee high socks with the same black and white striped pattern as Obanai's haori.

"Obanai, that's so thoughtful of you! I'll treasure these forever."

"You don't need to treasure them, they're just socks," he grumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You giggled. "But they're from you. How could I not want to keep something so precious in good condition?"

"If they rip, I'll buy you more. So don't worry about it."

"Thank you so much for the kind gift." Your gaze softened at him as you frowned the tiniest bit. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, I feel bad."

"I don't need anything. Just..." He finally looked at you. Your hair ribbons mirrored his eyes once more (you swore to wear them like that until the day you died and then in every reincarnation you were born into) and he felt his heart beat against the walls of his chest. "Just don't die. That's all I ask of you. Let me be able to see you again."

Your own heart panged with the weight of his words. "I promise. I'll see you soon, Obanai Iguro."

[sha-lyuzar]

Loghain Mac Tir is my comfort character. It is not often a pleasant thing to admit, and my reasons are complex, and personal, but fundamentally what makes me so attached to him is how human he is. That kind of depth and complexity is what made me fall in love with Dragon Age in the first place. He’s not just a “noble hero” or an “evil villain,” but a fully realized person who embodies good and evil, and everything inbetween, who is shaped by his past and his deeply personal convictions, his flaws, his fears, his fierce love for Ferelden, and, most importantly his tragic mistakes, that lost him everything, and that is what makes him feel so real to me.

He doesn’t have an easy narrative arc. He’s not driven by simple greed, cruelty, or even by misguided idealism. He’s a survivor with wounds that never fully healed, and those wounds shape the way he sees the world and interprets threats. Every heinous decision and tragic mistake is a direct consequence of his loyalty to Ferelden and Maric, and his willingness to bear the burden of horrific choice. He has been bleeding for his cause since he was a child, and it has turned him into the same kind of cruel and cold tyrant He fought against in the first place, and watching him struggle to hold true to his values, and eventually abandon them, as his path grows darker and more isolating, is this profoundly tragic thing that to me is infinitely more compelling than a classic Hero's Journey.

What Loghain did in the Alienage is deeply disturbing and inexcusable. Using Tevinter slavers to control and exploit the elves is one of the darkest points in his character arc. It’s a choice that reveals just how far he’s willing to go to maintain control and secure his idea of Ferelden’s “independence,” even at the cost of his own morality, so He lets in a foreign power to abduct and subjugate the citizens he claims to be protecting. It unveils the extremes of his desperation and paranoia, because in his mind, he’s protecting Ferelden, but in reality, he’s perpetrating the very kind of oppression he once fought against. It is dark, it is horrific, it is unforgiveable, and that is the whole point.

He has to confront the devastation he’s caused, and he can’t simply brush it aside as a “necessary evil.”. If he joins the Grey Wardens, his path involves acknowledging these grave mistakes, taking responsibility, and finding a way to live with the guilt. There is no reconciliation for his actions, his fear and trauma may explain but never excuse what he did. There is no easy way out. Loghain is stained with the blood he shed forever. He has to live with having failed, with the compounded weight of his actions and regrets, and, if he joins the Wardens, he isn't even granted the mercy of a quick and clean death, and instead is exiled from the country he poured everything he had into.

And doesn't this resonate? Does this not perfectly reflect the difficult reality of being human? How people can be fiercely protective, deeply flawed, and driven by complicated motivations, and that these qualities make them more worthy of understanding, not less? Loghain’s arc speaks to me on such a deep and personal level, especially as someone who has been battling the demons of trauma. His story is a vivid reminder that trauma doesn’t always make us better people, but exacerbates our struggles and can lead us down dark paths. i see parts of my own struggles in Loghain, i understand his pain, his fear, the choices his past self would loathe him for, and the gnawing self-hate, regret and grief.

Trauma twists our intentions like that. Instead of guiding us toward empathy and understanding, it clouds our judgment, and pushes us to make decisions we later regret, and become versions of ourselves we hate. My reality of trauma has not been this character building experience, the way it is often depicted in media, but something harrowing and life-altering, that still poisons me, even years later. But seeing a character lose all tether to himself and get lost in his demons is a tale worth telling, and an experience that still grips me, even 15 years after playing DA:O for the first time. Seeing Loghain live through rock bottom in DA:O, and then, ten years later in DA:I find purpose and whatever semblance of peace is possible in his circumstance, is something that gives me comfort. It is deeply personal, and i keep this unforgiveable and irredeemable, this grief-stricken and regret-filled man, this complicated and multifaceted character deep in my heart.

There are spoilers for datv under the cut. Major spoilers about the end of the game. If you have not played through yet, please don't be tempted to look. i thought i would be fine with spoilers, but i am not. You have been warned.

All of this is rendered moot by the ending of datv. By a throwaway line. i have been spoilered by this online, and have not reached this point in the game myself, yet, but it leaves me feeling a lot of ways, and it hits me hard. It feels like everything i found relatable in his struggle, everything that made him so human, is suddenly taken away. If his actions weren’t truly his own, and he was being puppeteered by old gods magic, then what does that mean for the weight of his choices? It feels like a betrayal of everything that made up his character, a character who has grappled with his trauma and made terrible choices, yes, but ones that were driven by his own will and conviction, always.

The complexity of his journey, the depth of his remorse, and the struggle for a new purpose, all become overshadowed by this new twist. It threatens to erase the beautiful, painful, and human truth of what it means to confront one’s demons and seek understanding in the aftermath of suffering, what it means to reassess and take accountability for your actions and do the hard, dirty, and thankless work of bettering the irredeemable, bit by bit, piece by piece, so that one day you may draw a breath and feel just a bit of that weight eased.

But no, he was just a victim all along. He has no agency, his self-actualisation is lost on him, he was never responsible for himself. It feels like one of Dragon Age's most complex characters has been flattened down into cardboard.

[degreedummy]

Looking at Lukola's Synastry and Current Transits-

Venus transiting N’s 3H, L’s 7H In [a week], Venus opposes N’s Mars, L’s Venus-

1. To start off, this is a transit that signals appreciation, going out of their way to give each other credit for how hardworking they each are. On N’s side, I think we see someone who is feeling a bit lost, trying to find a way to [Venus-Mars] shift peoples’ focus, and this more shows her needing that emotional support, being reminded that her work is valuable and meaningful to people.  

On L’s side, I think we see a [friend] reaching out, someone who knows N enough to know when she isn’t acting like herself. I don’t think this transit will be too emotional, but I think it’ll show the way… two people are able to ground each other. The opposition to N’s Mars takes place before the opposition to L’s Venus, so it’ll be more like someone softly coming in behind the storm to help clean up the mess. I wouldn’t take it as a sign of how deep his feelings are, but that he still cares.

2. After these oppositions, Venus will be transiting L’s 4H, N’s 8H. In Libra, I think this influence simply shows the way how… in September, they will be in a position of relying on each other again, reconnecting and sharing themselves. I wouldn’t take this transit as anything too significant, but as an acknowledgment of a known pattern in their lives. The 4H represents ‘where we feel at home’, the 8H represents ‘who we trust the most’, so I think this shows them being happy to be back together.

3. In L’s 4H, this will mean that Venus passes her retrograde Jupiter, square N’s Sun and Mercury, and I think there’s two big options here: 1) L speaks out for N, saying she isn't open to conversation 2) they make an agreement not to talk at all about what goes between them.

I think Venus is granting them the privacy they’ve been wanting for so long, not really creating the chance for ‘secret love’, but giving them the chance to show love without outsiders trying to make it more than what it is. Just based of Venus’ transits, I think things are still moving slow, but more importantly, it shows how their relationship has remained unaffected by outside factors. The trust they have can’t be broken by anyone outside of them.

Mercury retrograde in L’s 2H, N’s 7H Goes direct while in conjunction to L’s Chiron [3 days~] Enters an inconjunction with N’s Neptune [one week]

On L’s side, I think for weeks we’ve been seeing him slowly release insecurity, not being too loud, but standing strong in everything he does. I think this was a reflective period for him more than anything, only frustrated by people misunderstanding him. Going direct, I think Mercury is going to put that newfound confidence to action, and connecting themes to his real life, I think we’ll see this through his performance in the next season. I think he’ll go into it feeling beautiful, free of comparing himself to anyone.

In a [month and a half], [mid-October], Venus will enter L’s 10H, N’s 5H, and I think this could be represented in them celebrating some kind of achievement together, or award. It’s more ‘recognition of someone’s work, acknowledging their legacy’.

This will also take place after L’s exact Mars return, so I think… this will be his true chance to break away from his past. I don’t want to promise anything or anyone specific of course, but I think facing his past, being credited for his work, working toward more for the future, and having people show support will allow him to feel like he can take the [next step], whatever he feels that may be for him. I don’t know how this would conflict with filming, but this is a time for individuality.

On N’s side, this slowly developing inconjunction to her Neptune shows me someone who is trying to lock down, [isolate], [6/11H] cutting herself off from social circles to protect her work life, which I think is also natural for [show filming].

More than that, I think this Mercury inconjunction is a time to be wary about anyone who claims to be speaking for her, claiming to know how she thinks or feels, or people claiming to know personal information about her. If anything comes up, I think it’ll be obvious that this person has no connection to her, based on how inaccurate they are from the beginning, but I think this does show someone trying to take advantage of her attempts to lock down and stay quiet.

In [two months], [October], Mercury will eventually enter a trine with N’s 1H Jupiter,  which (I believe) agrees with what I said before in her natal transits, with how she’s planning to reach out to her fans more.

With this continued theme, I think it’s important for her fans to consider… how much space a person needs to feel safe talking in front of people. If everything she says gets swept up, flipped and turned against her by the end of the day, what reason does she have to come back or try to open up again? I think it’s just a time to consider… if we can contribute in some way, it would be by enforcing that people respect and listen to what she says.

If she doesn’t want to share her life in some way, she won’t. Not because she’s hiding anything, but because communicating with her audience demands different boundaries, especially as her fame rises and she’s introduced to new audiences.

In all, I think these next few months are about friends rekindling a love for each other, showing that nothing can break them apart. I know we hope for signs of a relationship, but I think this affirms what we've always said about things moving slowly, showing stability. I still take these transits as a good sign, them finding some kind of privacy and peace, but I think it is on us to maintain that distance, respecting their need for it. I think there are conversations they keep between them, and this is the time they'll be explored.

[pouletaulait]

"Do you even intend to quit – not really" 🧐

After reading Chapter 58 I thought about this exchange between Yashiro and Kage for a bit:

At first sight this might suggest that Yashiro actually considers staying in the Yakuza. I think based on what we know and how this statement is framed though, I come to the conclusion that this suggests the exact opposite in fact; Yashiro’s reluctance to stay in the Yakuza shines through yet again.

Granted, in the above scene Yashiro does in fact say that he doesn’t really want to quit BUT what he said before that stood out to me. Confronted by Kage about how he’s still affiliated with the Yakuza he first diverts his question by saying „don’t say things as if you’re an ordinary person“; I think this points out that Yashiro doesn’t like to think of himself as that different from Kage (or „civilian“ people in general, probably), he’s sorta putting the two of them onto the same level… outwardly he appears to lower Kage’s „status“ as a law-abiding citizen to his own, but, objectively speaking they both know that Kage is not in fact a shady person (at least from what I can tell, after all, he doesn’t appear to be affiliated with any „shady“ people apart from Yashiro and Kage always complains about Yashiro dragging him into these affairs). So, what this ends up doing is lifting Yashiro’s status up (I hope I’m phrasing this in a way that makes sense). Anyway, I think what this conveys is that Yashiro still looks down on Yakuza members (he’s definitely not proud of being one) and that he’s still not fully comfortable with people viewing him as a member or even acknowledging his Yakuza-status himself. He then goes on to say that it’s not easy to leave. Now, this could suggest a) that it has been on his mind (which we already know to be true) and b) that he feels the need to justify the fact that he’s still affiliated with them. Only when Kage questions him again Yashiro finally says that he doesn’t REALLY want to leave. His way of phrasing it doesn’t sound super convincing and he probably says that to get Kageyama off his case and also because, if he is honest with himself, he still can’t see himself actually taking that step after all. I know I might be reading too much into this but it stood out to me that Yashiro didn’t just throw Kage a snarky comment like „why the hell wouldn’t I still be a member?“, in the same vein as his first comment „what kind of upstanding guy runs a shady illegal casino?“ Instead he is somewhat opening up to Kage in his own way.

Anyway, this conversation is yet another puzzle piece that plays into the theory I’ve had from the beginning, that Yashiro will leave the Yakuza eventually. From all we know so far, Yashiro has never really come to terms with being a Yakuza and has generally a very negative opinion of them. The topic of Yashiro struggling to accept this role and the re-occurring questioning of what makes a Yakuza, who’s a good Yakuza, who’s not fit to be one, etc. strongly suggests to me that this is an integral part of this story as a whole and is most probably gonna be relevant to the conclusion of the story. It’s made clear that Yashiro never wanted to be Yakuza in the first place and he’s still reluctant, like… some 20 long years later 😯. I don't want to include too many quotes here because there are far too many instances that could be mentioned and this post is already getting too loooong, as you'll see 🫣, but there are some I'd like to mention. First I'd like to point to one quote from Yashiro that leads me to believe that to him being a Yakuza is not in fact his real identity but rather a role he is playing. He says to Ryuuzaki in Chapter 5:

He sees himself more as an actor rather than a real Yakuza and interestingly enough, that’s what he had aspired to become as a teenager: (aspire might be too strong of a word here but I think in a way he really did):

Now, I know that I'm arguing that Yashiro is talking about himself here ,even though, he's not just referring to himself in his comment to Ryuuzaki but the fact that he talks about Yakuza being just like actors in general and then further generalizing his statement to „people spend their lives acting“ still plays nicely into Yashiro's perception of his own life which will become relevant in a bit *bear with me*; it suggests that he thinks that people are not really free to be themselves because they have to play their role which emphasizes his passive approach to life in general „I have lived my life accepting it all�� (I reference this quote further down).

Every time Misumi tries to drag him in deeper, Yashiro is acting completely reluctant. We first saw this in the very beginning of the story when Misumi and Yashiro talk about the succession and Misumi says to Yashiro „be mine once more“ (Yashiro doesn’t want to give him an answer), when we learn through Hirata’s secret recordings about the details of another conversation between Misumi and Yashiro in Chapter 14 (Yashiro still doesn’t give a straight answer) and we see it again in Chapter 36 when Misumi basically says to Yashiro „don’t forget what you are“ after the time-skip (Yashiro distracts Misumi from the conversation by provoking him). He doesn't agree to anything but he never outright refuses either (he's completely passive).

His reluctance is further demonstrated by the fact that after the time-skip Yashiro’s not really a full member anymore. He used what happened after Hirata’s attack on him to the best of his abilities in a way to distance himself from the group but he couldn’t take the last step. But this clearly points to Yashiro wanting to get out for good.

I think it’s noteworthy that the only time he completely rejects the idea of quitting (as far as I remember), is in Chapter 27 when he speaks to Ryuuzaki in the back of the police car:

This stands out to me because he says this after he’d made up his mind that he was gonna die. So why keep fighting it at this point? (I’m so glad our cute boy is not in such a dark place anymore 😭)

Yashiro has also tried to keep Doumeki out of this world because he cares so much about him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t successful but the statement Yashiro made about the Yakuza in Chapter 22 becomes relevant again, now that Doumeki got a back tattoo (which as we all know made Yashiro furious beyond belief). Yashiro said something along the lines of „do you have any idea how many upright citizens walk around out there with full body tattoos? And how many Yakuza wear normal business suits?“( I hope this translation is somewhat accurate . I had to take it from the official German translation which is not the most exact at times but the only English translation I could find, didn’t seem to be correct 😅) Basically he’s saying, it’s never too late to quit. This was some unfortunate foreshadowing if you ask me but it gives me hope that Doumeki’s status as a full-fledged member and him getting a tattoo won’t prevent them from leaving the Yakuza world behind.

I just cannot imagine Yoneda-sensei making this aspect such an integral part of Yashiro’s character and bringing this topic up again and again if it isn’t gonna be relevant in the end… I know it might be a red herring but I really doubt it at this point. I read the manga as a story of a traumatized survivor of SA finding happiness in life (yes, I’m very hopeful that both Doumeki and Yashiro are gonna make it out alive because anything else would be too cruel🫣). For Yashiro the Yakuza is a hindrance to his freedom and happiness because it’s not who he truly is as a person and as long as he stays he’s going to be under Misumi’s control and Misumi is gonna try to use him, just like his stepfather and all the other men who SAed him when he was a teenager used him. In a way he’s still this powerless child getting used by others. He was an easy target for Misumi because Yashiro was „completely indifferent about himself“ as Misumi put it. This indifference stems from the abuse he suffered. When Yashiro got shot he remembered the SA and he says: „I have lived my life accepting it all. I’ve felt no sorrow. I’ve blamed no one. My life can’t be said to be anyone else’s fault.“ This expresses exactly what Misumi saw in Yashiro: He’s so broken that he doesn't even feel anger, he is beyond caring about himself, his well-being, his future. Putting it differently; he doesn’t love himself and he doesn’t think that he deserves love or a different, better life. This is why he doesn’t really put up a fight against this fate. He’s still passively accepting everything.

To sum this up, it’s mainly his trauma that prevents him from quitting, just like it keeps him from being able to accept Doumeki’s love. Since I believe this story is about Yashiro overcoming his trauma and finding happiness, I think it would only be fitting that once he’ll be able to accept that he is deserving of love, hope and happiness, he’d finally find the courage to take control of his own fate and break away from the path that he felt forced to follow.

And yes, I'm aware that quitting won't be that easy because of Misumi's obsession over Yashiro BUT even though I don't like Misumi too much and I think he's a creep, he's in his own way quite lenient when it comes to Yashiro, I have to give him that. So, I have high hopes that he actually meant what he said about "caring about Yashiro as a person" and will let him leave without too much trouble.

Of course we don’t know much about Doumeki’s plans for his future but if Yashiro and him end up together (which is what I’m hoping for) he’ll most likely go along with Yashiro’s wishes, I guess 😉 And I know, sweet Nanahara would be disappointed but I bet Yashiro and Doumeki would still find a way to adopt their big baby boy into their little family 😜

maybe they’re gonna open up a beach bar in Hawai’i and Nanahara would flirt with the guests and give away all the drinks for free 🤣

On a more serious note, I hope I didn’t get any of the quotes completely wrong. Nuances tend to get lost in translation so it’s kinda "risky" to base a theory like this solely on translations but most of it comes down to my personal interpretation of the story anyways. And I’m sorry if most of this seemed too obvious but I got the impression that I seem to feel more strongly about the fact that Yashiro might gonna leave his days as a Yakuza behind than others in the fandom and I felt the need to present my case 😉

If you actually made it through my ramblings to down here, you deserve some 🍪🍪🍪 😘

[zoobiefish]

I am WAY behind on Auctober again! Ugh, university, am I right?? 😩 Hopefully for the final 2 days I’ll get some art done for it, but in my years of accepting my Autism I’ve come to understand that I can’t always meet NT expectations—and that’s okay 😁 Anyway, let’s get caught up:

22: Disabled

Yes, Autism is a disability. Yes, I am disabled. And that’s okay! I often see able-bodied and able-minded people treat the term “disabled” as if it is a dirty word. They’ll try to fluff it up by replacing it with “differently abled” or similar terms. But the truth is that by fluffing up the terminology, you do more harm than good—all it does is make disability more stigmatized than it already is. So yes, the term is “disabled.” It’s not a slur, it’s not a dirty word—it’s just a word! And it accurately describes me as well. There are some things that I will never be able to do that NTs can do with ease and take for granted…and that’s perfectly—you guessed it—okay! I have challenges in my daily life that will never go away. All that means though is that I need the proper supports in place so I can function. Now, I do need to acknowledge that my Autism is considered “high-functioning” (clinical words, not mine!) so I understand that I don’t face nearly the same struggles as “low-functioning” or “middle-functioning” (again NOT my choice of words) Autistic people do. I do struggle with the things the majority of Autistic people across the spectrum struggle with though; I have extreme difficult reading non-verbal cues, understanding tone of voice or text, facial expressions…and this can often lead to unintended hurt feelings—whether they be mine or someone else’s. I also struggle very much with sensory issues. Crowds, loud noises, squishy, rubbery textures, and certain smells can set off a panic attack and/or meltdown in me. I often have to wear headphones if I know something like construction is going to occur where I live—power tools are my KRYPTONITE!! I also get stressed and overwhelmed extremely easily. I find I have to come up with a lot of strategies and life hacks to keep up with the demands of university life that most don’t have a problem with. These are just to name a few of my struggles—I could be here all day explaining all the ways Autism affects my life, but I got more prompts to catch up on!

23: Synesthesia

Oooo, a fun one! I wish I could say have the really cool synesthesia people talk about in the media a lot—but I don’t 😅 I have associative synesthesia I believe it’s called. Basically, I don’t literally see sounds as colours in my peripheral vision, or literally taste colours when I see them or anything like that. But I do *associate* different stimuli with senses they shouldn’t be related to. There are different subcategories of associative synesthesia, but I don’t have the spoons to explain them here so please Google it haha! Anyway, what I do find is that I associate certain colours with tastes. Blue for instance tastes like icing/frosting/whatever you wanna call it on a cake. Red tastes like sour cherry candies. Yellow tastes like Lucky Charms marshmallows. Another weird synesthesia thing I have is that certain numbers are always certain colours in my mind. 1 is black, 2 is light green, 3 is red, 4 is navy blue etc. Also I read somewhere that this particular thing is synesthesia, though I could be wrong: but as a kid I always associated numbers with certain character archetypes. I even cut out paper dolls of them and played with them! 1 was the “everyman” kind of character. 2 was kinda ditsy and the sidekick to 1, like Patrick from Spongebob. I don’t remember any other numbers in between but I know that 5 was a conniving used carsalesman type of character, and 7 was the logical, rational one that was always trying to get 5 out of trouble—much to his chagrin. Man, this last factoid would’ve fit with the vivid imagination prompt! 🤣🤣🤣

24: Genetic

I don’t know honestly what all to say about this one, sorry! But I do know that while we don’t have *all* the answers yet, Autism does seem to be caused by several genetic factors. It can also run in families. I’m Autistic, 2 of my nephews are Autistic, and there’s a couple other older family members I suspect could be Autistic too—though I’m no clinician.

25: Pets

I grew up with cats all my life!! They have always been my comfort animal and I think it might be because cats remind me a lot of Autistic people: they’re misunderstood as being cold and unfeeling, but if they get to know you they can be your best friend. They can be very loving and show affection in ways you may not understand but should be appreciated regardless. They like quiet, they tend to gravitate towards their “person,” they are typically introverted, and they can get laser focused on an object of interest. My current cat is named Curry, though I call him “Sir Curry” because he’s my knight in fuzzy armour! He always knows how to comfort me when I’m sad, having a meltdown, or panicking. And he makes me laugh and gives the best cuddles! 🥰 🐈‍⬛

26: Fidgeting

I fidget a lot when I am nervous. I’ll typically play with stuff like buttons or zippers on my sweaters, or play with my lanyard that has my student card on it.

27: Stimming

Stimming is something I do A LOT!! For the uninformed, stimming refers to repetitive behaviours in Autistic (and other neurodivergent) people that helps us to regulate our senses and/or emotions. Stimming can be done for a lot of reasons—we might be super happy, we might be overstimulated, we might be *under*stimulated, we might be anxious…it could be any number of reasons, but it’s usually a way to burn off extra energy at least in my case. When I’m really, REALLY happy, I’ll kinda bounce on the ball of my feet or tap my fingers together repeatedly. When I’m excited or nervous, I shake my foot. Sometimes I rock back and forth when I’m sitting as well if I’m happy or nervous. A lot of times though, I’ll have a fidget toy with me! My favourites are any that nake clicky noises or have buttons and switches and such on then, like my fidget cube!!

28: Safe Foods

“Safe foods” refer to foods that Autistic people can eat all the time no problem because we know exactly what to expect from them. Autistic people are often stereotyped as being “picky eaters” but more often than that there’s more to it than just being “picky.” A lot of foods can taste different or have a different texture depending on how fresh it is, how ripe it is, how it’s prepared etc. which is why many Autistic people have trouble with fruits and vegetables. Myself, I don’t have much problem with most fruits and vegetables. I would even go as far to say I’m a bit of a foodie if it weren’t for the fact that I tend to eat small amounts throughout the day instead of 3 square meals a day 😅 However, I do refuse to eat pasta, any kind of noodles, jell-o, pudding or anything similarly squishy and rubbery. I just can’t do it! It makes me gag! 🤢 I also can’t deal with blueberries. The smell alone makes me nauseous!!

29: Empathy

Ahh, another commonly misunderstood aspect of Autism. Despite popular belief, most Autistic people (at least that I know) are *very* empathetic people—myself included! In fact, I would say I feel *too* much empathy, and many Autistic people feel the same. I don’t claim to be a professional so take what I say with a grain of salt and fact check with your own research, but my understanding is that today’s literature on Autism claims that Autistic people usually struggle with specific *types* of empathy rather than empathy altogether. For myself, I struggle to put myself in another person’s “shoes” so to speak. But that doesn’t mean I can’t understand what emotion a person is likely feeling in a given moment. I have an example that isn’t my own experience but rather the experience of another Autistic person I know, but I very much relate to it: When this person was a kid, they saw their mom get hurt and saw that she was in pain. They didn’t know what to do because they couldn’t exactly understand their mom’s perspective, but they understood in general that the mom was in pain and they empathized with that. So they grabbed their favourite comfort toy and offered it to their mom. Now I don’t know about you, but I would certainly call that “empathy” of some kind! I will say though that there *are* some Autistic people who don’t experience empathy at all. However, it’s important to know that lack of empathy does not make a person “evil” or anything. There is more to being a decent human being than empathy after all.

Anyway, that’s all for now! We’re almost done Auctober, I can’t believe it!! It went by so fast aaaaaaa!!!

[therighthandofvengeance]

Something that’s been on my mind as of late is Bester. Specifically, the fact that if he were to undo the propaganda/brainwashing done by the corps, he’d have Ivanova’s mentality about the organization, minimum.

Bester is fueled by pettiness to the same extent that Ivanova is fueled by vengeance. Some might argue those two words to be synonymous, but by my perception (within the context of their respective characterization), they’re different.

Bester doesn’t see himself as petty— he sees himself as just, as fair, as a kind human who is trying to make the world a better place for the next generation. He’s doing humanity a favor in his brainwashed mind.

Ivanova is vengeful and she knows it. She sees someone who’s wronged her in some way take a low road, and she starts digging a path beneath it. If she sees someone else being wronged, she might be more inclined to boost them up on their path to a higher road, but that doesn’t mean that she’ll somehow refuse to go about it by digging deeper to make a solid foundation for them.

They both lost their non-Corps telephathic parents at the hands of the corps. The difference is that Ivanova knows her mother would have never done such a thing without the “influence” (medication) of the corps, and Bester’s parents chose death over assimilation to the corps.

With Bester, the corps is mother, the corps is father. There is nothing to be mourned because they were simply the people who physically created him. They were never truly there to differentiate between what they believe should’ve been perceived as “right” and “wrong.”

Ivanova, on the other hand, got into heated debates with Andrei. They fought, they argued, they bickered— and based off of what we know about Sofie, there’s very little to suggest that the fight in Susan somehow isn’t (nearly) identical to the fight in Sofie. Nature versus nature, it’s hard to tell. (In my opinion, the exact similarity was both the cause and the effect— Andrei missed Sofie to such an extent that he craved the knowledge that she might be dead, but she wasn’t gone. Provoking his daughter was clear and direct pathway to see Sofie again. Sofie wasn’t alive, but Susan is. Susan’s similarities to her mother ironically nearly killed her father, and it kills Susan herself on a daily basis.)

They both lost their loves at the hands of the corps— perhaps the first (if only) true romantic love they’ll ever experience. They lost these people because their respective loves had come to the conclusion that the corps is a corrupt organization (to say the least). They both lost them by the corps chosen mentality that the homo sapien are not human, but are rather a resource for them to freely exploit in the pursuit of greater strength in the next generation.

This enrages Ivanova. Of course, she values strength, and she does so to such an extent that it can often be to her own detriment. However, she can acknowledge that there are multiple forms of strength, and lots of ways to demonstrate them, too. She’s not going to say that her way is the most right way, but she knows it’s more right than the corps’. She’s (at least learning to start) acknowledging that humanity is a strength and should be treated as such.

This mentality should enrage Bester, but it doesn’t. Instead, he’s disappointed by other people’s line of thought, because his way is the right way— if it weren’t, he wouldn’t have been trusted to enforce the rules of the corps, because he’s that special. He’s that important, and the corps taught him that. Because of the corps, all of his value is based in his telepathy, and therefore his humanity doesn’t matter at all. It would be irrelevant, but he’s a psi-cop. Humanity is a deterrent.

Both Bester and Ivanova have been denied the outward practice of humanity being granted to them, and it shows. The difference is that Ivanova learns to make it from scratch, make it by herself. Bester can’t even fathom how to truly do that. If he did, his fury would be directed towards the corps (and not its enemies).

[dblk-archives]

Dark before dawn.

Chapter 1. Fake Divine.

"Destroying my faith No I won't fight in your games Destroying my faith And I don't wanna play it again"

Summary: Cast away from an eden of light, an angel with crooked wings crawls out from his own blood, fallen and broken in this new world.

Characters: Ruki Mukami, gn! reader.

Tags/warnings: fallen angel AU, blood, first meetings, series.

Author's note: This is an AU in which Ruki is a fallen angel. I've been thinking about this idea since his More Blood route and I wanted to write it. I intend to make it a series, I hope you enjoy <3 I made a playlist for this specific AU as well. You can listen to it here.

An unfamiliar sensation shoots through the being’s body.

In fact, man would be a more correct word to describe him, now that he’s been stripped of all divinity.

Decaying wings scrape against the concrete as he tries to move.

Is this what they call pain?

Is this feeling akin to flesh and bone being ripped apart what they call ache?

He tries to flap his wings, or what remains of them; once, pristine white feathers cascaded, soaring above clouds of light.

Now, ashen branches seem to span from his scarred back, a cruel reminder of an eternity denied.

Glazed steely eyes direct skyward.

His sight is met with a vast nothingness.

How long has it passed since he fell?

It certainly does feel like an eternity, yet it can’t have been more than a couple days, at most.

He should get moving. In his current state, it is not wise to linger in the same place for too long.

Dirt scratches against his palms when he tries to stand.

For someone of seraphic blood to have to crawl through the ground… This is ridiculous.

The fallen angel clenches his teeth, an expression befitting more of a demon contorting his face.

Then,

“Hey, are you okay?”

Dark icy eyes focus on a figure standing a few feet away from him.

Tsk, to have to look at someone when he is the one standing below them… Outrageous.

At first he doesn’t reply, giving the stranger a nasty look.

He despises hypocrisy, and especially those who pity him, after all.

So how dare a mere human ask if he is okay?

How dare such a lowly being have the nerve to even fathom the idea that he needs help.

The broken angel finally stands up, crooked wings sprouting from his back, his energy too low to even hide them.

“Wait!” They call after him. Rushed footsteps follow. “You’re bleeding!” 

The dark haired man barks a laugh. He’s got wings on his back in plain sight and this person is worried about him bleeding.

He notices the concern etched on the human’s eyes, their serious expression unwavering.

“Are you sure you can go on like that?” They ask.

’Yes.’ The halo-less angel thinks. That is what he’s always done after all. Take everything for granted, never walking side by side with others and never acknowledging their help.

He takes another step forward. Or tries to, at least.

The next thing he knows, the world is tilting sideways and disappearing before the absolute darkness of his sight.

—

Coppery light floods the back of his eyelids as he tries to open his eyes.

Sluggishly, he takes in his surroundings.

He doesn’t recognize them as the street he was wandering a while earlier.

“You’ve awoken, I see.”

Now, that voice he’s heard before.

That annoying human is sitting in front of him, an enigmatic smile on their face.

What’s with them and that look of… kindness? in their eyes? He can’t stand it.

The angel quickly sits up, before pain in sharp waves shoots through his back.

“Easy there, you don’t want to reopen them.” The human gives a slight nod, eyes meaningfully glancing in his back’s direction.

Fresh bandages cover the fallen’s back, loose enough that his crooked wings can still move freely.

The irony of it, when he knows he’ll never fly again.

“What gave you the right to bring me here or tend to my wounds?” The dark angel juts his chin upwards, tone haughty.

You raise a brow, crossing your legs from your perch in the chair opposite from the couch he lies in.

The man’s lofty tone surely is in contradiction with his bruised body. But when you notice his movements, and the way he carries himself… They do certainly hold an elegance you can’t quite place.

“Would you have rather bled yourself out to death?”

“I don’t need your pity or you trying to get in my good graces.”

“So, is it just a normal occurrence for you to see someone suffering in front of you and doing nothing?”

’Suffering?’ The angel snorts.

What do you even know about what that feels like?

“You are so pretentious.” He remarks.

“Says the one who insisted he was fine when he literally collapsed on the street.” You cross your arms, leaning forward with a knowing smirk.

He really can’t stand you.

“What’s your name, by the way?” You ask.

He hesitates for a moment, then he supposes it’s fine to tell you, since you are so insistent, maybe you’ll leave him in peace if he answers.

“Ruki.” 

You offer him a softer smile, introducing yourself too.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ruki.”

However, the only pleasing interaction you’ve had since he woke up is short lived.

“Well, if you'll excuse me, i have places to be now.” The man who introduced himself as Ruki states, pushing the blanket covering him away.

“Places to be?” You echo, a skeptical smile curving your lips. “Where exactly? The ground of some back alley?” You retort, snorting. “Listen, you literally collapsed from blood loss. Do you honestly expect me to believe you are in any condition to be safe out there in your current state?”

Arguably, no.

If Ruki were to be honest with himself and come to terms with all the feelings he keeps locked inside his iron encased heart, he definitely won’t be okay at all out there.

“And how, pray tell, is that any of your business?” But perhaps being dishonest with himself was one of his very few flaws.

“Well, aren't you stubborn?” You sigh. Your expression softens, gentleness returning to your tone. “Stay the night. Give time for your wounds to at least stop bleeding, have a proper meal and stuff.”

Those stormy eyes of his hold your gaze.

Maybe you hadn’t realized how deep and beautiful they were up until now.

“Fine. One night.” The angel grumbles.

A satisfied grin tugs at your lips as you get up to prepare some snacks.

[tar-maitime]

last words

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Sons of Feanor Relationships: Maedhros & Sons of Feanor Additional: character death, grieving, kinslayings, War of Wrath WC: .75k

@feanorianweek snuck up on me, so instead of writing something for each of the days, I'm just going to have to go with this...

.......

“Are you so quick to turn your back on our father, then, traitor?”

It’s not the last thing Curufin says to her. There are plenty more words between them, in that fight that eventually ends with an agreement to attack Doriath, and in the preparations that lead up to the assault. But by some chance or other, it happens that ‘traitor’ is the last thing Curufin calls her.

Not ‘sister’. Not any of her names. Just that ugly word that hangs between them, that she keeps hoping they’ll have time to resolve, up until she finds him dead in a pool of blood on the floor.

Maedhros doesn’t know why it sticks in her mind like that.

The last thing Celegorm calls her is ‘general’, as in “As you command, General,” with a too-playful grin and a wink, when they’re discussing who will be deployed where just before the attack. Maedhros only finds out later that he’d disregarded her instructions entirely to chase down Dior Eluchil and fight him personally.

He’s still wearing that same grin when she finds him dead in the throne room, even though his wounds tell her that he didn’t die quickly. She wonders if he teased at death the way he did with her and their brothers.

She hears his voice calling her General, General, General, over and over till it loses all meaning, as she sprints through the frozen woods looking for the lost princes, as she returns empty-handed and deals out justice to Celegorm’s men.

The last time she sees Caranthir alive, he says, “The strap on your pauldron is wearing thin, Nelyë,” with such complete normalcy that she has to rack her brain, later, to realize that those were his last words to her. She can’t seem to take it in. Celegorm and Curufin had practically courted their deaths in Doriath, and she’d sought to save them from it as much as she’d sought to save Doriath from them. But Caranthir...she hadn’t seen it coming. She doesn’t think he did, either.

Her father, her uncle, her cousin, her husband all were afforded some kind of dramatic weight to their deaths, to make the world stop and acknowledge that something had gone horribly wrong. Kneeling in a corridor in Menegroth, Maedhros can only think inanely that it’s unfair somehow for her middle brother not to have been granted the same dubious courtesy.

.......

The last thing Amrod calls her is ‘Maitimë’. If he’d called her anything else, anything else...

But Maedhros hasn’t thought of herself by that name in centuries. She never gets to ask why he landed on that name out of all the many she’s had - a flashback to Alqualondë? a mere slip of the tongue? - because the disused name takes a fraction too long to get her attention, and by the time she turns toward him, one of his opponents has already put a sword through his ribs.

She pays more attention after that (after she’s screamed, after she’s laid waste to the defenders of Sirion who did this). She makes sure she knows exactly where Maglor and Amras are and what their situation is at all times after that. 

It’s not enough to save Amras, who dies in her shaking arms, calling her “Amya.”

Perhaps he wasn’t talking to her at all, saying that - Maedhros’ face is more like her father’s, and the scars and cropped hair have left any resemblance to Nerdanel vestigial at best. But she still hears it echo in her mind along with traitor and General and Nelyë and Maitimë, so as far as she’s concerned, it counts. 

She is glad, when it occurs to her, that the twins (the new ones, Maglor’s peredhil who want to be hers as well) never call her that in their quest to bestow a maternal title on her.

.......

When Maedhros goes out to fight in her last battle of the War of Wrath, Maglor stops her with a hand on her arm, and makes her eat something, and tells her “Stay safe, sister,” before she leaves.

There’s no particular reason to think that those will be his last words to her, any more than any other parting might be their last. But Maedhros still tucks them away in a drawer in her memory, just in case.  “You too, hanno,” she says, and ducks out of their tent to make for the latest battlefield.

[sepublic]

            The Owl House is about many, many things. It’s about neurodivergence, weirdness, not fitting in and being left out. It’s about finding a community of others like you. It’s about being your own person, but also wanting to be a part of something, and balancing these seemingly paradoxical things. It’s about how everyone is alike and similar to each other, but also each person is wholly unique and irreplaceable.

         Everyone has their own story, we all think we’re special or more better in some way than the rest. There is no destiny, but people have the power to choose and decide for themselves. We can all mess up and do something wrong, but what truly prevents us from getting better isn’t circumstance, it’s the refusal to improve; Just deciding to do so and taking that first step forward is all you need to begin.

         It’s about disability, about not fitting up to a certain standard and that’s okay, even if you’d also like to do that. It’s knowing what you’re good at and discovering that, and it not having to fit other people’s definitions of what’s meaningful. It’s about learning and loving and doing things for their own sake, not as a means to an end, it’s about the value of art and how it makes us humans.

         We have powerful relationships with stories. They can heal us, inspire us, motivate us. But they can cloud and delude people, set them down paths of arrogance and solipsism. Stories mean a lot, especially to the neurodivergent, to those who fit in, and it can be seen as cringey or too much, too overwhelming, but no those feelings are valid, even if people must be responsible about how they express them. Stories can do so much for us, but they aren’t everything either; Reality is just as important and necessary to engage with.

         It’s about different ways of thinking and learning, of doing things, and how they’re all valid. Different existences, diversity, a wide variety of experiences, and how could you want to make the world smaller by making it more monotonous? But you must approach differences with respect and understanding, it’s exciting to engage in something new, but you must be the difference between a colonizer and an immigrant. It’s a defiance to conformity but a reminder to mind others around you. Be kind, for even if others take it for granted, compassion does well in the long run.

         Sometimes kindness won’t work for some people, but ultimately we must counter Christian ideas of retributive justice, guilt, and punishment in order to prioritize healing and rehabilitation. Restorative justice is what will build the world back up, let it heal. There is no fate, no greater God or will, it’s just people interacting together, sometimes trapping themselves in a cycle of their own making, but still people.

         People aren’t above nature, nor are they separate; Do not seek to control or tame others, be it that you don’t understand and assume foreign, or those you do notice commonality. You can’t make people do things, only yourself, but you can give them the freedom and support to decide better. Forgiveness is not mandatory either, if you truly want to do better. You are not the hero and that’s why you can forgive yourself for not fixing everything on your own.

         Co-exist with nature, with different things and their own ways of existing, instead of trying to justify them as a natural resource to exploit. It’s about environmentalism, sowing seeds for more to come, instead of just taking. It’s about a cycle of kindness where you put things in and hope what comes out, the next generation, does even better for you; Rather than a cycle of pain where you spread and project that, and refuse to acknowledge people for who they are.

         It’s about people overlooked in real life; People of color, the queer, the neurodivergent. It’s about non-conventional family structures, found family; The bonds we make and choose, because things don’t have to be given to us at the start of life. We can earn and build it for ourselves just as much, if necessary.

         There’s perception, learning to trust in your own abilities and those of others. Learning to be positive about your body and its appearance and alleged shortcomings. It’s about seeing people for they are as a whole, not something you whittle and simplify them down into. Parents want the best for their children, but they were children once and are just as flawed and messy as the rest of us.

         Accept change, accept things even if they’re bad, like death or disabilities, because sometimes you just have to learn to live with it. You can’t hide in an insincere fantasy, hollow and bereft of substance; Make real connections and experiences. But you can also strive for things to be better, and you can recover. Wounds heal, even if scars might linger.

         Chance can cause anything, you can never be too certain about what comes your way, how people will impact you, and you’ll impact them. It’s how people live beyond death through the influence of their actions, and that is more alive than any failed resurrection or clone. Give freely, just because others suffer less than you, doesn’t mean they should suffer at all. Be the change you want to be, take initiative.

         People wander around, searching for homes. People are cast out or lost, but find new places to belong. Nobody deserves to be in a cage, nor lost. We’re all seeking for those connections, pre-existing or to be made. Some places you won’t fit in, some people won’t accept or be interested, and that’s okay because there’s always someone out there.

         It’s about wanting to be special but also understood, for people to see and learn about you in good faith, to give you the time of day. It’s reciprocal love, about healthy boundaries in relationships. You are more than what you do for others, and locking them out to deny your pain will only hurt them in the long run, too; To love yourself is to love others. It’s okay to be selfish and even angry, it doesn’t have to come at the expense of others, and sometimes you have to prioritize yourself over those who do you harm. Wanting things isn’t inherently harmful to others and can co-exist with wanting things for others too.

         Think critically, question what you’re told, come to your own conclusions. Defy binaries, things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive nor paradoxical. Don’t settle for singular choices, it’s the fine yet real line between indecisiveness and openness. Let people try new things while giving them the space and support to back out or change their mind. Friendships exist between generations, among them, kids deserve to have other kids as their friends, and mentors.

         It’s about how the loss of a parent leaves you alone and grieving. Wondering about them. How they can impart a final gift onto you, something to revolve your whole life around because it’s your world and it’s them. Grief can manifest into betrayal over feeling abandoned; Or a desire to honor and live in their name. It’s hard to say goodbye and find the right words, language can affirm so much.

        It’s about the ordeals of growing up and coming of age, realizing how terrible or difficult things can be, but confronting that instead of retreating to emerge stronger. History changes but also repeats itself, the cycle renews. 

        Fiction and reality have a divide, but they can intersect, or invade one another. It’s about making things real, while recognizing when they aren’t. But fantasy is an example of what could be, and that’s the hope that inspires a kid to keep moving forward. People deserve a chance and that’s why judgment should be reserved, as we’re all still making mistakes and learning.

        It’s about connecting with the world around you, both the people and the place itself, and loving and understanding them both for who and what they are. It’s about finding a home, which can be many things, as long as it makes you feel like you belong. That’s why it’s called The Owl House.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Peter Boghossian

Published: Dec 30, 2024

Academia is a fraud factory. Last year, 10,000 research papers were retracted—and those are just the ones that got caught. Entire lines of literature are fabricated out of whole cloth. Plagiarism is rampant. Universities are protecting and hiding fraud—they’re keeping serial plagiarists on the payroll. They don’t even fire Pretendians (people pretending to be Native Americans who hold positions of authority), despite their lip service, land acknowledgments, and ostensible deference to Native Americans’ lived experiences.

A curious person might wonder: Why? How could this happen? Why would anyone hide corruption or deny it or look the other way—especially when it undermines the legitimacy of their disciplines and the academy itself?

There are plenty of reasons. Here are a few:

Ideology. Many academics don’t see research as a way to discover facts about an objectively knowable world. Instead, they view research as a tool to create the world they want—a world that’s just, fair, equitable, and free of oppression. Their goal isn’t to uncover the truth; it’s to craft a narrative that aligns with their vision of justice. To make this happen, they describe how they think things should be and cherry-pick methods to support those conclusions (Action Research).

When this mindset takes over, research goals shift. It’s no longer about trying to falsify claims; research is about verifying narratives to fit preexisting beliefs of how the world should operate.

[ Claudine Gay, Former President of Harvard University and current Wilbur A. Cowett Professor of Government and of African and African-American Studies ]

Career Advancement. Not all fraud is ideological—sometimes it’s just about climbing the ladder. This kind of corruption is especially common in the soft and hard sciences, where data fabrication boosts publication records, improves reputations, and increases grant money. Academic fraud, by its nature, is difficult to discover. If I had to guess, I’d estimate that around 15% of papers are flat-out fraudulent (data fabrication), and another 25% are less obvious but still bogus (e.g., p-hacking). Although these estimates could be low given the replication crises in various fields.

Midwits. This isn’t merely ignorance—it’s midwittery. Many academics are not particularly intelligent; they are, at best, middling intellects. We think of academia as a haven for brilliant minds, but it’s full of people with average intelligence inflated by credentials. Midwits cluster heavily in the humanities and thin out in the hard sciences. They are not capable of understanding complex problems (like why falsification matters more than affirmation) because they lack intellectual horsepower.

Moral Echo Chambers. Academia is a giant moral echo chamber. For all the talk about the indispensable importance of diversity, the academy is dominated by identitarian leftists. For them, morally unfashionable conclusions aren’t just wrong—they’re heretical. Disagree and you’re not merely mistaken—you are evil.

Entire areas of inquiry are off-limits because some academics think they shouldn’t be studied. And yet, these same people insist their claims are true. How do they know? They don’t. They can’t. But questioning them makes you the bad guy.

Reputation Preservation. Fraud doesn’t just undermine individual academics—it threatens entire institutions. If the public knew how widespread the rot really is, the entire system would likely collapse. So, they protect their own. Whistleblowers are silenced. Critics are dismissed. And the fraud? It never ceases.

The rot in academia is not an accident. It is the inevitable outcome of a system built on groupthink, careerism, and warped moral compasses. The academy once claimed to be a bastion of free thought and inquiry, but it has become a fortress of conformity, where the truth takes a backseat to narratives, prestige, and power. Until fraud is met with consequences and intellectual diversity is embraced, academia will remain what it has become: A factory of lies, wrapped in the illusion of legitimacy, and churning out the very propaganda it pretends to oppose.

[nestaismommy]

I’m actually so fucking done.

1) Nesta was not taking advantage of Feyre’s “kindness” by spending Rhysand’s money. She was coping for fucks sake. She was sick. Alcohol helped. She needed help. She wasn’t in her right mind. I cannot with these dumbasses saying she took advantage of bla bla bla. Did you not read the fucking book?

There was anger, occasionally. Sharp, hot anger that sliced her.

But most of the time it was silence.

Ringing, droning silence.

She hadn’t felt anything in months. Had days when she didn’t really know where she was or what she’d done. They passed swiftly and yet dripped by.

She didn’t know what she was doing because she’s mentally and physically sick.

2) Nesta cares about Feyre. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have warned her about the mercenaries robbing her. Then Nesta proceeded to work with a mercenary to get Feyre back, and proceeded to ask her abusive boyfriend to help her, and he refused, so she left him and he tried to r/ape her. She risked her life, going near the wall, to get her sister back.

Then a slender hand clamped onto my forearm, dragging me away. I knew it was Nesta before I even looked at her. “They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.”

She shrugged, looking at the sliver she’d pried from the table. “I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me.

“What happened to Tomas Mandray?” I asked, the words strangled.

“I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.” ~ Nesta

3)I don’t even like Elain that much but she does care about Feyre. She even gifted her paint during their years of poverty. Elain was apologetic and acknowledged that they failed Feyre. She convinced Nesta to help Feyre and the others, as Feyre helped them during those years of poverty. Nesta also was apologetic, and regretted everything she did.

And it hadn’t stopped her from buying me three small tins of paint—red, yellow, and blue—during that same summer I’d had enough to buy the ash arrow.

She put a hand on Nesta’s knee, the purple of my sister’s gown nearly swallowing up the ivory hand. “Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.” ~ Elain

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.” ~ Elain.

She bowed over her knees, saying into her palms, “I can’t undo it. I can’t fix it. I can’t fix that he is dead, I can’t fix what I said to Feyre, I can’t fix any of the horrible things I’ve done. I can’t fix me.” ~ Nesta

She blurted, “All the things I’ve done before—” ~ Nesta

“Leave them in the past. Apologize to who you feel the need to, but leave those things behind.” ~ Cassian

“Forgiveness is not that easy.” ~ Nesta

“Forgiveness is something we also grant ourselves….” ~ Cassian

Stroking Feyre’s cold hand, Nesta spoke into the timeless, frozen room, “You loved me when no one else would. You never stopped. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you loved me, and fought for me, and ...” Nesta looked at Feyre’s face, Death a breath away from claiming it. She didn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks as she squeezed Feyre’s slender hand tighter. “I love you, Feyre.” ~ Nesta

Apologies aren’t just verbal. Actions speak louder than words and some words are left unspoken. This is Elain making up for it. This is Nesta making up for it and non-verbally apologizing.

3) Feyre only hunted because of the promise she made to her mother and she isn’t kind.

She wasn’t like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face.

A kind sister doesn’t talk about her sister that way. Which shows us that they were both rude to each other. Nesta isn’t the only bitch.

“No, she just spent whatever money I didn’t hide from her, ”

Feyre just admitted she hides the money. So no, Nesta didn’t spend all the money.

Some days, I couldn’t tell which of us was the most wretched and bitter.

“But I’m freezing with my raggedy old cloak,” Elain pleaded. “I’ll shiver to death.” She fixed her wide eyes on me and said, “Please, Feyre.” She drew out the two syllables of my name—fay-ruh—into the most hideous whine I’d ever endured

This isn’t funny, clearly she needs a cloak because she’s cold. Feyre didn’t give a shit and proceeded to describe how hideous her whine is.

“I thought you were going to chop wood today.” Nesta picked at her long, neat nails. “I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters.”

She always gets splinters. Meaning this is something Nesta always does. So no, she didn’t just sit on her ass and do nothing.

“Get the knives ready,” I said, not bothering to sound pleasant. “I’ll be out soon.”

Clearly they are in charge of the house while Feyre hunts.

Every time I looked toward a horizon or wondered if I should just walk and walk and never look back, I’d hear that promise I made eleven years ago as she wasted away on her deathbed.

So if she never made that promise, there was a chance she’d run away and leave her family. It was only the promise that had her hunt.

“Believe me,” I said to her, “the day you want to marry someone worthy, I’ll march up to his house and hand you over. But you’re not going to marry Tomas.”

Feyre doesn’t even tell her the reason, she just barks orders. And it almost feels like she’s telling Nesta she’d be happy to get rid of her.

“We have nothing to offer them—no dowry; no livestock, even. While Tomas might want to marry you … you’re a burden.”

So my point is, Nesta wasn’t the only bitchy one. So was Feyre. That’s just how they are. I’m so tired of people telling me Feyre was always kind and all she ever did was love Nesta. Yes, I believe they both love each other, but she wasn’t kind. Nesta wasn’t kind either. I don’t think anyone has room for kindness when they are starving. Let’s not forget that they went through years of poverty.

[jihyocentric]

sooo, i got a request for that lifeguard tzu x milf jeong.

i'm not posting this as a fill to that rq because it's too different than what anon requested for. hope the anon who asked for it still likes this though, i just wanted to do it this way.

-

summers were meant for people to take a break from the routine and have fun.

tzuyu couldn’t enjoy it the way she wanted to, having to decline countless offers from her friends to go out, all because she had to work. student loans wouldn’t pay themselves, and fatefully, tzuyu had to sacrifice her summer if she wanted to keep up with her studies.

she might not be able to hang out with her friends, but she still had fun. that summer in particular, she managed to get a job at a seaside resort. it wasn’t far from where she lived, and unless there were reckless parents who didn’t keep an eye on their kids, tzuyu didn’t have to do much at work.

during the day, she’d take the lifeguard post, and during the night, tzuyu would work as a waitress at the bar — for the extra money. if she smiled enough and didn’t take long to grant the clients of their orders, they would certainly tip her.

rich people were really interesting, giving her big notes as if it was nothing for them.

it would’ve been a boring summer if it wasn’t for someone in particular. she was certainly one of those rich people, and while tzuyu hasn’t seen her around at the bar, she sees her during the day, at the beach.

she is always with her kids — that’s what tzuyu assumed, given the fact that they looked just like her. perhaps tzuyu has been getting distracted, looking at her for too long, enough to realize that she might be a single mom who just happens to be taking her kids on vacation.

it isn’t until one of her kids decide to go a little too deep in the sea, that tzuyu has the chance to talk to her. tzuyu runs to the sea, takes the struggling kid back to the surface, and checks on them to see if they’re fine and that they’re able to breathe.

the mom reaches them quickly, with the younger kid in her arms. she doesn’t acknowledge tzuyu’s presence at first, going straight to her kid, touching her son’s cheek and arms to see if he didn’t get hurt. he complains, telling her he’s fine — he was certainly a pre teen, and at that age, kids weren’t so fond of that kind of affection.

“i told you to stay in the shallow,” the woman says, and it’s the first time tzuyu hears her voice. she clearly wants to say more, perhaps scold the kid, but she refrains from doing so in front of strangers. “thank you for helping him.”

the deep tone of her voice makes tzuyu shiver. it fits the woman perfectly, velvety and distinct, certainly not what tzuyu had expected but even better. tzuyu nods — it’s all she can do — and tells the woman that she was just doing her job.

she tries not to stutter, and when the woman leaves, with an arm over the boy’s shoulder, definitely scolding him, tzuyu can’t bring herself not to look at her body.

sometimes she goes to the beach without the kids. tzuyu figures that the kids are either with the other parent, or with a babysitter. rich people could afford that kind of thing, and when the woman would show up without the kids, she’d wear something revealing, as if she wants to get all the attention that she could.

tzuyu takes her job seriously — she swears she does. she has to. but not many people were trying to risk their lives in the sea, so for the most part, she just sat on a tall chair and observed her.

she looked beautiful in bikinis. she’d usually wear swimsuits when she was with her children, but without them, it was as if she was ready to be stared at for hours — or until tzuyu’s shift at the beach was over.

tzuyu didn’t think she noticed. she was careful enough, settling for looking at the woman for only a few seconds, just enough to run her eyes from head to toe.

she’d get a glimpse of the woman’s cleavage, the skin shining gracefully under the sunlight. the thighs made tzuyu have to take a deep breath, afraid of getting hard — that would be unprofessional. not that tzuyu has been professional to begin with.

and then she’d do her job, repeating it all every five minutes.

(under the older woman’s dark sunglasses, there lied curious eyes that certainly knew about the young lifeguard’s interest on her.)

it’s during her night shift at the bar, at the very end of the week, that tzuyu sees her there for the first time.

she figures the woman wanted to have fun that night. it’s usually when the foreigners would leave, and perhaps the woman that tzuyu has been watching wouldn’t be there the next morning.

tzuyu feels disappointed. summertime would go back to being boring, without a pretty woman to keep her job interesting, and then she’d go back to watching the sea for hours until another kid wanted to risk their lives there.

“hey, you!” tzuyu hears the woman’s sultry voice, making her stop in her tracks.

she had to deliver a couple of drinks to another table, but she can’t seem to ignore the call, making her way to the pretty woman and risking to lose a good tip if she took too long there.

“good night! how can i help you?” tzuyu puts on a smile. extra tips was not what she was looking for when it came to her, but tzuyu was still just a waitress. she knew about her limits.

“well…” the woman leans in, elbow on the table, a hand supporting her face. her light brown eyes looked beautiful up close, despite the lack of sun light to enlighten her face. “i’ve already had a few drinks. i shouldn’t drink any more...”

tzuyu loses her breath when she notices the uncovered thighs. with the way the woman crossed her legs, she could see them clearly.

“maybe i can get you something else! i’ll go get the menu for you-” tzuyu rushes to say.

“oh, no, no.” the older woman shakes her head lightly. “i already know what i want. i think you know too.”

tzuyu holds the tray in her hands tighter, afraid she’ll let it fall.

“miss…” tzuyu mutters, flustered. she’d been caught, and while that was embarrassing, what made her flush was the way the woman looked at her, as if tzuyu was her next acquisition. and tzuyu was loving it. “i’m working.”

you’re stupid. tzuyu curses herself inside her head. she was used to girls flirting with her but now grown women, considerably older than her. she even has kids.

“well, then…” the woman smiles, taking the receipt she’d gotten from another waiter. she writes on it with a pen that comes out of her purse, as if she was already prepared to do that, and then she slides the thin paper on the table, towards tzuyu. there is cash under it, and tzuyu’s eyes widen with the amount of money in front of her. “when you’re not working, meet me there. i’m jeongyeon, by the way.”

tzuyu takes it. she wouldn’t refuse it or say it was too much — it was too much, perhaps even more than what she’d receive for working extra hours at the bar, and that’s exactly why she needed it.

tzuyu takes about thirty minutes to find the waiter that had been her workmate throughout the summer, and ten more to convince him to let her go. she argued that the tips would be all his if he did that for her, and offered to work on his place the next night.

finding jeongyeon wasn’t hard at all. the instructions were clear, and all tzuyu had to do was go to the beach, walk for a few minutes, and then she found her.

“you took too long,” jeongyeon remarks. tzuyu sits next to her, nervous but trying to keep her cool. “i saw you looking at me.”

“you’re pretty.” tzuyu mumbles. she was never that nervous to speak to a woman before, but with jeongyeon it was entirely different. “i couldn’t help but look.”

jeongyeon laughs — the sound stirs something up inside tzuyu.

“what a flatterer,” jeongyeon finally looks at her. “do you usually flirt with all of your clients?”

tzuyu smiles coyly. “only you.”

as the anxiousness dissolves and tzuyu gathers up courage, she moves even closer to the woman. jeongyeon doesn’t flinch or attempt to get some distance. that was the whole point anyway, and she knew what tzuyu was about to do.

tzuyu’s lips meet hers in a rushed kiss. jeongyeon kisses her back just as intensely, moaning against her mouth. she lets tzuyu take control at first, enjoying the pace, eventually guiding tzuyu to lie back against the sand.

nobody could see them there. it was dark and the area was private. not many people came to the beach that late in the night.

jeongyeon slowly dominates the kiss, slipping her tongue past tzuyu’s lips, sitting on her lap for a better position, feeling a hardened bulge under her. she laughs against tzuyu’s lips, amused at how easy it was to get her hard, but she doesn’t say a thing about it.

“i’m leaving tomorrow.” jeongyeon breaks their kiss to say it. tzuyu breathes out, lips already swollen, bringing her hand to the older woman’s waist. “think you can make my night worthwhile?”

tzuyu nods vehemently. “it’s all i want to do.”

“good,” a corner of jeongyeon’s lips lift with the answer, offering a half smile, which tzuyu could only see due to the moonlight.

it had been a while since jeongyeon did that, and she can’t waste time. she unbuttons tzuyu’s pants and tzuyu looks down expectantly, watching as the woman manages to pull her shaft out.

she doesn’t pull tzuyu’s pants down, aware of the sand under them, and the opening on the younger’s pants is just enough to free her hard cock, pulsing on jeongyeon’s hands.

jeongyeon bites her lip when she can’t wrap her hand around it entirely, too thick for her to be able to. she brings her hand up and down, as if giving tzuyu a warm up, not that it was needed. she was fully hard and ready, all set for whatever jeongyeon wanted to do with her.

“wait, i have a…” tzuyu stops, letting out a small groan at the warm hand squeezing her shaft. she sinks her hand in her pocket, bringing out a golden square, offering it to jeongyeon.

jeongyeon laughs slyly. “you came prepared. good girl.”

tzuyu shivers at the way jeongyeon calls her. no one had ever treated her like that, and maybe it’s because tzuyu has always been dominant in her relationships. with jeongyeon, an older woman who certainly has had more experiences than her, she feels… small.

jeongyeon rips the package open with her fingers, placing the rubber on tzuyu’s tip. she slides it down slowly, tzuyu twitching as she watches it. jeongyeon takes her panties off quickly after that, not wanting anything in the way of them, keeping it inside tzuyu’s pocket as a little treat for her.

the moment tzuyu feels the heat on top of her shaft, she lets out a pitiful whimper, as if she’d never had felt that. tzuyu has, but other girls who would never compare to jeongyeon, and she’s incredibly worked up at the slightest touch.

jeongyeon moans, rubbing her soaked core against tzuyu’s cock, getting the condom wet with her arousal. the teasing is not just effective on tzuyu, but also on her.

before jeongyeon decides to put it in, tzuyu sneaks her hand between them and slides herself in, getting jeongyeon fully sheathed with her cock, the both of them moaning as tzuyu fills her up.

“so tight,” tzuyu groans, bucking her hips to fit more of her shaft in, impatient.

“so eager,” jeongyeon teases, pulling her skirt higher, letting it sit around her hips.

with her hands on tzuyu’s shoulders, jeongyeon moves back and forth tentatively, wanting to see how far she could take tzuyu. she wasn’t expecting her to be that big, but she was more than glad to take tzuyu in.

riding her was difficult at first. jeongyeon took a few minutes to fully adjust to the size, and even when she couldn’t take it all, tzuyu was pleased. not many people could take her in anyway, and tzuyu knew that.

“fuck,” tzuyu grunts, relishing the tightness, and before she knew it, she had taken jeongyeon off her lap and placed her on her hands and knees.

“excited, aren’t we?” jeongyeon laughs. “the sand…”

“wait,” tzuyu interrupts her, taking her shirt off to put it under jeongyeon’s knees. “better?”

tzuyu goes back inside as soon as jeongyeon is comfortable, taking off abruptly. through all of the week she’d been thinking about that — having the older woman for herself, jealous of the sun because it kissed her body entirely while tzuyu could only watch, wishing to touch her with her own hands.

and now that she finally got what she was looking for, tzuyu would make sure jeongyeon wasn’t wasting her time, promising herself to give her the best summer night.

“fuck!” jeongyeon wails, feeling every inch of tzuyu inside her, instinctively lowering herself down, ass up.

tzuyu’s ego only grew bigger knowing she was able to please her that much, feeling jeongyeon clamping around her, knowing that her legs were trembling because of her. tzuyu brings her fingers to jeongyeon’s core, playing with her clit while she fucked her deep, balls taut as she approached the edge.

the older woman cries out with every snap of tzuyu’s hips, and when she finally comes, tzuyu can’t help but follow her, filling the condom with hot seed, burying herself as deep as she could and spilling all of her load, whining as jeongyeon’s walls milked her length.

tzuyu hesitates to pull out but she has to, the position getting tiring after a while. she pulls away, taking the condom off and tying it up tightly.

jeongyeon pulls her skirt down and sits on the sand, evidently pleased, but her eyes were still dark, the brown fading away as black took over.

“it’s getting chilly here,” jeongyeon comments, cheeks flushed solely from the effort that was taking tzuyu in. “i have an empty room reserved.”

tzuyu smiles, knowing she’d stay up all night and have to work the entire day without enough sleep, but doesn’t dare to decline the offer.

[razorblade180]

Aether:Neuvillette, have you seen Focalor since…y’know, the meeting?

Neuvillette:Briefly. We aren’t as joined to the hip as some may assume, thankfully. Why do you ask?

Aether:Things got pretty intense near the end. She seems pretty good at bouncing back but even I could tell she was bothered the entire time.

Neuvillette:Yes, although I can’t begin to know where her thoughts shift on any given topic. I’ve been keeping an ear out. She will eventually let things slip one way or another.

Aether:I guess you would know best. I trust your judgment.

Neuvillette:……*tilts head*

Aether:Ummm, Neuvillette?

Neuvillette:I don’t mean to be presumptuous, and please do correct me if I’m wrong. Do you by any chance fancy Lady Furina?

Aether:….That’s a complicated question. I don’t really know her well.

Neuvillette:….However….?

Aether:Well…I guess from an outsider perspective and general sense, there are qualities about her I find endearing. Wait, I’m not breaking some vague law am I!?

Neuvillette:Heh, no. There are few forms of adorations she doesn’t tolerate. Also, you may want to not address her as Focolar whenever you’re playing off your own level of interest.

Aether:I’ve been doing that?

Neuvillette:A couple times, yes. Now then, allow me to ask another question. What are your current thoughts on the Archon?

Aether:That seems to be a popular question these days. My opinion on Lady Furina; she’s pretty hard to read. Not to mention impulsive. It some ways it feels periodical. She’s one of the more expressive people I’ve ever met with her emotions but to the point you can’t tell what’s going to happen.

Neuvillette: Sigh… I understand what you mean.

Aether:Even so, I can tell she’s serious about important and isn’t living life one minute at a time. I don’t think it’s my place nor do I believe I have information to accurately criticize how she chooses to lead. Frankly the only thing I am certain of is she means well. Granted, I’ve meant other gods who also meant well but Furina feels like her efforts are busy searching for a solution instead of holding steadfast to one that’s hers alone.

Neuvillette:Is that necessarily better?

Aether:It’s refreshing. Not really in the mood for another self-made crisis. Anyways, why do you ask about my opinion?

Neuvillette:Because you’ve been a kind individual that’s helped this nation multiple times for one reason or another; mainly out of kindness from what I see. However, that doesn’t mean you think positively of this place’s systems or deity. As you know, it’s absolutely possible to detest them while still caring. Hearing you say you think well of its people and god is rather calming. A person like you who’s capable, level headed, and willing to be friends is something Furina doesn’t have much of in the truest sense. Thank you.

Aether:No need for thanks. I’m just doing what comes naturally to me.

Neuvillette:I’m glad to hear it. Also, though she hasn’t outright said it, Lady Furina not only acknowledges your capabilities, but appreciates them as well. As for any deeper feelings should could have, I’m unaware.

Aether:*red* We don’t have to discuss that last part. Although…with this level of emotional understanding I’m now curious if you have any you might “fancy”

Neuvillette:You give me too much credit. Even if did, I wouldn’t know it. Now if you excuse me. *walks away*

Aether:Is it Navia? I have it on good authority people similar to your kind like geo users.

Neuvillette:*continues to leave*

Aether:…(I’m taking that as a definite possibility)

[try-set-me-on-fire]

#more points towards buddie canon: eddie treats buck like he treats his female romantic partners aka takes them for granted

yeah..... i didn't wanna say he was taking Buck for granted 'cause it felt kinda mean oskaoskas but he totally was taking him for granted because like, Buck almost died 3 times in what? maybe 6 months? and Buck really wanted his life to go back to normal so he did something extreme because nobody was checking in on him even though they had acknowledged that the 118 is all Buck has, and Eddie had his own shit going on and the way Buck doesn't notices and tries to fix it, like Buck has done in the past with noticing the way he was struggling with finding the right care for Chris and giving him Carla for instance, makes Eddie go ballistic as if somehow Buck has to prioritize him and that's so insane. But it also makes sense with the way they constructed Eddie's character with his particular flavor of abandonment issues and the struggles he has voicing his needs and expectations, and I also think a bit about the way he overcorrects because he trusted Buck, Buck let him down so he went straight to yelling at him. And the craziest thing is that it wasn't even about Eddie. He makes it about his feelings because he got caught in the crossfire between Bobby and Buck and that's such a fascinating reaction to the situation they were in. Kinda totally wish they had made Eddie apologize for the you're exhausting thing tho, because that stayed with Buck.

Yeah!!!!! I love Eddie I love that he has like real flaws he feels like an actual person! He absolutely does just kind of assume his partners will keep things running smoothly while never asking for the specific help he wants, or really giving that help in return! He defends Shanon to his parents after the fact but doesn’t support her while she’s actually around. And now Buck’s in that support role he just expects him to be there without asking, to take care of things and magically know what Eddie needs, which is something that Buck is very good at usually. He thinks of Buck as behaving selfishly while he’s literally saying why don’t you care about my problems….. the lack of self awareness is DELICIOUS to me!!!! And I really think he has grown past this, the Eddie who waits for Buck to come sleep on his couch and says “Now can I ask how you are?” Is an entirely different person than the Eddie who says “you’re exhausting, we all have our own problems, why can’t you just suck it up?” I’m really looking forward to see what he’s like in season seven, if new communicative Eddie who’s not burying his feelings sticks around or if we’ll see backsliding into old habits! And yeah would have loved an apology…. Maybe we’ll still get that some day…. Boys, talk out your feelings….