#another cog in the machine i guess.

[theonlyadawong]

anyways. leon being blackmailed into working for the u.s. and his hatred of the government only means something to us as players, but in the world of resident evil, it means jack shit and he is no different from all the other people who willingly sign up to be agents of the imperial core. he does the same job, collects the same paycheck, reports to the same people, he's the same!

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

[feeders-guide-to-gainers]

Feeders guide!

The importance of keeping track:

It’s crucial to keep your gainer on track! A lot of chubs require a certain degree of supervision! If they want to get fat they gotta eat! If your gainer isn’t completely self sufficient in the art of gaining it might be time to start Calorie counting together! If your gainer is not yet considered “overweight” then it might be time to get a meal plan and calorie counter started! Logging calories helps you keep track of your goals! Most beginner gainers start with 2900-3500 calories a day with MINIMAL exercise!

Some important numbers to remember:

Essential Body Fat: 2-4%

Athletes Body Fat: 5-13%

Healthy Fit Body Fat: 14-17%

Overweight Body Fat: 18-23%

Obese Body Fat: 24%+

Calorie Intakes:

Double check your gainers intake and Weight prediction based on this calculator!!!

This will save you lots of guessing!!! For example my Daily Minimum for 2lbs a week! Doing nothing but the bare minimum of activity, basically a couch potato I need to consume a total of 3,200 calories a day!!!!

Good ways to motivate your Gainers:

Clothes are EXPENSIVE so make your gainers wear their clothes till they become unwearable! Now I’m not saying send your chubs out into the world with only shirts that expose their mid-drift without raising their hands! Certainly don’t do that. What I mean is let the buttons pop let the pants rip when at home it should be shirtless or skin tight as motivation to upgrade. This will save you some money for the time being, getting an accurate size on your fatty will not only encourage them but feel like a reward! This isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, however speaking from experience….going from a Medium to a Large is short lived and I wish I just held off until I reached XL’s! Save your money!!! If it’s unbearable wearing always trust what the gainer says it’s their body! You are just a big cog in the machine that’s to be your Gainer!

Friends outside of feeders:

Most gainers should do their best to make friends with other gainers! Feeders this will be super helpful to progressing their gains!! If even the people they hang out with are fat pigs and gainers they will automatically start to pick up on their eating habits too. While a Feeder takes a lot of credit for the beauty that will become a gainers belly, have friends to get them eating too will be helpful. There is nothing wrong with Feeders sharing the fun too!!! Make a gainer friend together feed your gainer and your newly found friend at the same time! A gainer will never say no to some nice belly rubs and a big meal! Being fat can easily be influenced! Make good friends with gaining influence!!!

Weigh In’s

While watching those numbers go up is exciting…sometimes you hit Plateaus and weighing yourself gainer everyday can hurt their motivation or self esteem! That being said! 2-4 Weigh in’s a month is good enough! Never let your big boys weigh in EVERYDAY!!!

Spicing up the bedroom!

While a lot of this is for the gainer’s benefit Feeders this is where a lot of the fun begins! Here are a list of things to try out with your Gainer when you want to get more intimate-

Bring a few fast food meals and feed them to your gainer while in some tight clothes.

Putting your gainers in Jock Straps!

Making delicious gainer shakes

Now while these are great options there is yet another option! WARNING most gainers start off having a hard time with these but after the weight starts to pile on Gainers will become dependent upon these. They do become addictive. Some people naturally like it but myself it took time!

BOOST VHS it is a small portion and 530 calories! When I tell you having 3 meals and 3 of these small shakes your gainer will BLOW UP in a matter of weeks!!

Belly play! If your gainer has a nice over hang slap it grab it shake it jiggle it rub it! All of that!

This one is going to sound strange but after the first 40+ pounds their chest should be bigger and nipples either puffy or soft. That being said nipples become sensitive and sucking them and playing with them can stimulate a very good sexual response.

Get them on their hands and knees make them eat without using their hands! Make sure to feel them up praise them for eating everything and treat them right!

Massage their prostate while they eat on their hands and knees!

Call them those special names they like so much! Check out my other post to see them all but this is your Pig/your fatty/ your fat fuck!

Start teaching them how to bottom if they don’t already. Topping burns more calories than taking it while lying on your back.

If you are someone that isn’t into shrinking dicks the fat pad will mostly steal a few inches from your gainer. Politely as about using a penis pump and making sure that they aren’t using chastity cages to stunt growth. This is so your gainer can maintain topping but a feeder should practice riding on top while your chubby man relaxes!

If you are okay with the fat pad eating away at the inches of your gainers dick. Don’t let them masterbate, and use chastity cages/belts to prevent them from touching them self! Make sure they are achievable calories or finishing meals before letting them take it off!

Feeding with tight clothes on! When a belly is bloated enough you can certainly pop buttons!

Make sure you are giving and receiving consent and everything that you do only makes the feeder and gainer(s) feel good!

The key to happiness is through the stomach so fill it up with food!

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU! - Ch 2: Mini Epilogue

{A/N: I might make this a regular thing 'cause I love character development} Link below to the 2nd Chapter :DD

Graves never knew he could laugh that hard.

It was like he got left hooked by that hooker again. Swift and out of nowhere- knocked him out of his knickers really. (Yes, he did wake up without it after being knocked out cold.)

It was said so nonchalantly and off-handedly like it was natural for you to assume that he was the 'boogeyman incarnate.'

He was just so amused by you blatantly and ever so confidently insulting him, right in front of his face.

He was quite surprised himself, usually- if someone had insulted him right in front of his face- a barrel would instantly be between their eyes, or a quick flip of his knife would find itself lodged right besides one of their ears-- whichever he was in the mood for really.

But you.

The glaring exception that he stumbled upon when he just wanted to do a quick smoke at his favorite spot at the bakery.

Before he even entered, he heard murmurs echoing, waking him out of his tired stupor and sobering himself up as he prepares to- potentially- make contact.

It might be that stupid cat that hates him whenever he goes to this spot, but with all the clearly pronounced non-cat like "meows-" he guesses it would be a person, playing with that ridiculously hedonistic cat. (He knows that plump white cat gets spoiled by Nonna and Nonno when they see 'em.)

So he rounds the corner, silently, steps carefully calculated with the intent of dodging anything that would make a sound.

Yet he pauses, taking a better look at you.

‘Who the hell were you?’

Why was there a stranger at his Nonna and Nonno’s place? There was no way you were a thief, judging from the looks of your outfit and how utterly careless of a job you did if you ever infiltrated this place.

Also…why a bakery? Were… you that hungry?

Maybe… he could provide a better source of income for you, instead of living the live of an unruly street rat.

Even if you were a new face, you had to know the rules of the street.

So he asks, and just like that cat- you jump and unceremoniously land on your ass. Yewouch.

He keeps the grimace to himself, keeping his guard up as you seem to…

not?

be intimated?

by him???

What is going on.

Now, he definitely has to get your ID and papers from the border patrol at the edges of the city. There was no way that someone from this city would act like this, especially if they have been out and around.

He wanted- no... that wasn't right... needed to know who you are.

You were like an itch at the back of his head that he couldn't scratch. Whether you were a threat or not, a new person in town never bode well for the families.

His gut tells him that he discovers a new cog in this creaky old machine he call his home.

So, he follows you through the back door, but was unfortunately stopped by that dreaded cat that was waiting for to lower his guard enough to assault him from the shadows.

He definitely needs his vengeance on that cat.

Once he gets away, he slicks back his hair in a huff as he went in and watch you absent-mindedly wash your hands.

"mio figlio*!" {A/N: Italian for "my son"}

He turns and smiles, "Nonna! I miss you!" opening his arms for a hug but all the old woman did was click her tongue and cross her arms.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me old hag," she sends an unimpressed look to him who reacted sheepishly, "why are you here?"

He pouts, "'cause I missed you and Nonno obviously."

"sure," she deadpans, "you're always welcome here son."

"I know that."

She irks at his confidence and proceeded to lift her foot, aiming for him until she sees at the corner of her eye- you, washing your hands for the umpteenth time now.

Connecting the dots and seeing where her son just came from, she smirks and lowers her foot.

"So you met cara?"

He raises his brow and nods, "did you find your new housekeeper from out of town?"

Seeing as how you had the bakery's apron on, he knew that you worked here, as well as the point that you looked a little too comfortable in the well-guarded space of Nonno. (Nonno's kingdom is the kitchen and anything the light touches in that space, anything outside of it is out of his control.)

Hence he charted it up to you being affiliated to either of the hags, and since Nonna just freely strolled up to him-- he'll take his chances.

But she shrugs, making him frown.

"Just came in last night," she begins explaining, "with John and his boys."

Graves sighs, another factor he did not want to think about at the moment.

"John's friend then?"

She shook her head again, making his creases grow deeper. If you weren't related to John, then how did you get to this place? By accident? This spot is so secluded in already desolate part of town, there was no way you came here intentionally. So, he continues gathering information from Nonna.

"Poor cara bumped into Kyle and was so sick that she couldn't get up," Nonna sympathizes, "had to let her stay for the night and let Johnny take care of her 'till the morning."

"Johnny?" He asks a bit astounded, "took care of a stranger?"

She raised her brow, "you think he did it willingly?"

He lets out a short laugh, "you're right."

"She's been cleaning her hands for the 10th time now," Nonna points out, "I think she still haven't sweated the sick off."

He looks at you, and-- lo and behold, you still were, eyes clearly in a daze as you stare at the wall, hands in an endless cycle of washing and drying off.

"You still say that?" He smirks at her shrug.

"Its true."

Graves watches his Nonna turn around to leave, only to get pinched by her again after scrutinizing your hand washing technique. (A++ for thoroughness.)

"Go and snap cara out of it," she nudges his signature mug in his hand, giving his Nonna a thanking smile while she just rolled her eyes- knowing that he could handle the situation that is you.

And so he does, and your reaction is as skittish as ever, even more so than that blasted cat-- maybe he should just call you 'micia.' {A/N: Italian for cat/kitten}

Although your quips immediately erased that thought, how DARE you call him-- a what?

'a boogeyman incarnate?'

First it was a tombstone (he knows that fairly well) but this?

THIS?

This is new.

And... he doesn't quite mind the light, fuzzy feeling in his chest when he got it.

A new refreshing face you are indeed, making him feel things he hasn't before.

So he tries to explain, why he was so apprehended before you left, despite the wheezes that seemed to be never ending.

He wants it to stop but it feels like he walked into a room filled with laughing gas, and it was quite... addicting.

Now he finds himself staring at you, working both the front and back of the bakery like it was a routiened thing ingrained in your brain. Maybe you waited tables before? You looked experienced, both in terms of service and communicating with customers.

He had half a mind to listen to his Nonna's rant about Nonno and the state of this place, but the other half was on you.

You with the messy hair, a food-stained apron, deep bags on your eyes, frame quite frail, hands shaken-- yet a smile stayed so bright like the sun above you in the alleyway.

Now he genuinely wonders how you found yourself here.

Were you like him? Needing a place to call home?

He hums, letting his thoughts spiral until it lands on you again. The you that snapped out of your rhythm and talked with a snark to John and his gang, quite similar in the manner that you did with him- making him grin quite a bit.

Nonna sees this and smirks, patting Graves' shoulder before standing and calling out to you.

He sees the color pop in your eyes, sparkling in wonder as you ask what Nonna wanted before it fully opens in shock at her words. He knew that the old hag likes messing with her kids.

Wanting to know what you were so shocked about, he approached the table with a smirk, a nod in greeting to the others while you were still in a panic, shakily holding onto Nonna's shoulders as you begged her for an explanation.

"Why don't you finish the lunch rush first, cara?"

So you resigned and nodded, having no choice but to comply to finish that part of the list. One ticked off, another tick to do.

As you finish that part of your shift, albeit more slowly now as fewer people entered and finished off their plates, you did a final check up and removed your apron with a relieved sigh.

Sitting with the rest, right in the middle of Suds and Nonna, as you held onto your own mug of cuppa.

You first listen in to the conversation, letting them lead the conversation as you think of ways of how to convince Nonna to give you minimum wage.

Even if it was a single bill for an hour- you'd take it. You just needed to start somewhere, and you would use this stumbled-upon-opportunity to the utmost possible way.

Once the conversation redirects to you and your situation, you took a sip and decided to explain what happened last night.

"That apartment's been run down for years..." Gaz, who you now learned was the kind man who took care of you last night, mentioned softly-- hands fidgeting above the table as he glanced at you and Price- the big boss man- nervously.

"Aye," Soap- you'd like to still call him Suds for fun- agreed with furrowed brow, "ye' said that ya friend lent it to ye' while ya' find a job 'ere?"

You nod, "that's the gist."

"Quite a ways away you are then," Price frowned, "this bakery is at the opposite end from where you need to be, hun."

You groan, sliding further down your seat- thinking of how the unlucky streak you've had has been fucking you up in more ways than Britney has 99 problems.

After a quiet moment of reprieve, you sat up again and down your shot of cuppa courageously.

"I have a proposal."

Nonna gleamed, arms crossed and an ever so present smirk on her face (just like Grieves.)

"Go on then, cara."

You inhaled and nodded, "I know I'm not in a position to ask but while I finish the list, can--"

You hesitated, knowing the heat of their gazes was crawling under your skin and making it itch, but you decided what you had to do-- whether it would to good or bad results thereon.

"-can... can I ask if its possible? Possible to get minimum.. wage.."

She perks up, and this makes you feel that you have to explain more--

"wh-what I mean is that--"

"You want to work here then?" She smiles, her voice soft, quite different from how she's talked to you so far.

You better consider her words now, thinking if it meant what it truly meant.

You nodded and she sighed in relief.

"Good," she pats your arm, "I was starting to feel guilty from how good you were working."

"So you did feel bad!" You glared at the old woman who simply laughs it off, ruffling your hair as your pouted.

"I did, but a job needs to be done."

"And I happen to be here- I know."

You both giggle and finally feel a bit more relaxed, that tension of holding onto that issue now gone quickly as soon as it was brought up.

"What if I contributed to that minimum wage?" Graves suddenly offers and you both turn to him in shock, one in confusion while the other in appreciation.

"Why?"

"I knew I raised you right mio figlio!"

Graves smirks, leaning back onto his chair with his hands in his pockets, "just want to pitch in to the cause."

You huffed, "I'm not a charity case...sir."

He chortles again, knowing that it was hard for you to deny the extra pay as it goes against your morals.

"No, no-" he corrects, "think of it as a son, helping his ma."

He wraps an arm around Nonna's shoulders, making her snuggle into his embrace happily while he looks to the four smugly. He knew that- with this proposal- he'd have more opportunities to... get to know you better per se.

"Then we want to help to," Price proses as well, making Graves throw him a quick pointed glare that earns him the same from the other three.

If he knew John as if he was his brother, then he knew he has a card hiding up his sleeve.

But its still to early to look into that, so he lets it happen.

You, on the other hand, were quite in a predicament of accepting it or not. You still wanted to repay both Price, Nonna, and Nonno (for lodging and food)- but it would be quite awkward if you did so through the means of their own money going back to them.

Although, from the looks of their faces, it seemed like they weren't going to stand down so you nodded- checking in with Nonna if that was alright with her and she simply grinned, an enthused reply of "yes! My sons are the best~!" coming from her.

"So," you cleared your throat, "I start today?"

Nonna thinks about it for a moment, "I don't see why not."

You internally cheer at this.

"Which means you have to know about the family business!"

The table shakes as the men stand in protest, but she pays no mind to it as your focus gets directed to her forcing eye-contact with you by grabbing both your cheeks.

"The family...business?"

"Yes!" you could hear the others scream but you could only hear the next words coming out of her mouth as she whispers...

"we're... a mafia family!"

Hearing this, the color- which is ironic as it is already colorless and pale- drains from your face, making you slump and faint in shock- brain shutting down as you.exe required a self-reboot.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!"

Nonno enters, now pissed off at the mess and was going to ask you until his brows raised in question at his wife, carrying you by the face- was shaking your limb body awake.

Once again, you regret taking the offer of someone trying to 'un-fuck' your week.

A/N: A little long bit this time hehe (i enjoy writing Graves being one of the first charas that gets "enamored" by you, just because he sees you as an oddity in the city. He actually went to visit Nonna that day because he was so tired of his current life, that he needed a change of pace. He was thinking of helping around for a bit before exploring his options but, lo and behold, you appeared and presented a different kind of opportunity of experience he has yet to feel <//3) All of the boiyos are touch-starved and sometimes- in their moments of weakness- they ache for it hehe Thank you for reading! Next chappie will be up soon (im havin too much fun with world building this au)

[genericpuff]

re: your tags on the rowling / musk post, specifically villains on saturday morning cartoons > wondering why we hate those who emulate it

idk if you ever played toontown, but i’ll always find it hilarious that disney released a game all about fighting big corporations from taking over small businesses, where the enemies (aka cogs (in the machine)) are all named after idioms / insults for types of corp employees (i.e. pencil pusher, ambulance chaser, big wig, loan shark, cold caller); esp considering disney is the Perfect example of the types of corporations that the game teaches you are evil and soulless. honestly, it’s a game i hold near and dear to my heart, and i recommend trying out toontown rewritten if you ever feel like it

i have NOT played toontown but i remember seeing the commercials for it all the time at like, the end of DVD's n junk and REALLY WANTING TO PLAY IT but ofc we didn't have a computer most of the time growing up and when we did it was hooked up with dial-up that my parents always got really clutchy over (idk if this was just a circumstance of the time period but like. did anyone else have a parent who acted like it was a life-or-death scenario if they missed even a single phone call ??? because my folks definitely did LOL) so something like toontown was just not in the cards LOL but I didn't know Toontown Rewritten was a thing so... maybe it's time for me to make another one of my childhood self's dreams come true (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

but that is really ironic, it's wild (and sad honestly) how so many accomplished writers and creators can become disconnected from what they originally represented and wrote about through... the disillusionment of fame and wealth i guess ??? or maybe it was just mold on the walls the whole time ?? 💀😆 i mean shit even rowling herself told a story about a boy literally living in the closet who finally escaped and went on to fight against an organization of literal fucking wizard nazi's, and yet now she seemingly missed the entire point of why kids resonated with her books so much and why they saw it as an inspiring message of hope and acceptance and love and persevering and standing up against literal fucking fascism ??? hello ???

actually there was a great video i watched a while ago about how despite the messages we took away from those books growing up, the HP books were also completely manufactured through the lens of capitalism, like not just as a franchise but on a narrative level. def give it a watch because it really kinda blew my mind and opened up a whole new perspective on the series for me LOL

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

When you really think about it, Chloe is just a version of Azula written by people who failed to understand what made Azula work as a character.

They are both malicious 14 year old girls that have a final swan song where they fight the heros for the last time and have a breakdown when they lose. They both have neglectful mothers (but like at complete opposites of the neglect spectrum) that they crave love from, and they both have "loving" fathers that shaped them into the horrible people that they are today.

However, the writers of ATLA understood that Azula is the way she is because of her circumstances; if her father wasn't abusive fire Hitler that encouraged the worst parts of Azula's personality, and if Ursa was able to have a better relationship with her daughter, then Azula would not have turned out the way she did.

Meanwhile, the writers of ML honestly think that Chloe is a bad person only because of her choices, despite writing the exact opposite. Chloe got her ideals of Rich superiority from her Father who raised her alone for most of her life, who is also shown to constantly abusing his political power in the early seasons, but the show dosen't point out that obvious connection beyond "he dosen't punish Chloe enough because he loves her too much UwU". Chloe's mother straight up dosen't care about Chloe and acts like a meaner version of her, but Chloe is the one the Narrative treats as the big threat that needs to be stopped? Andre gets rewarded with a new daughter despite being the reason why the old one turned out so bad??

Azula and Chloe are both cogs in the evil machine that realize they are unloved at the end of their stories, but while ATLA puts the blame on the machine, ML puts the blame on the cog and it's really weird because they laid the ground work for the evil machine!

Also, Zoe is like a dollar store version of Zuko I guess.

Here's another thing that made Azula work: Her progression as a villain felt more natural.

During Season 3 of Avatar: The Last Airbender, the show acknowledged how screwed up she was mentally. After losing Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee and being made Fire Lord only for her father to crown himself Phoenix King, Azula's sanity gradually degraded, and it was played seriously. It was clear that as evil as she was, she has a lot of issues that make it hard to just write her off as beyond saving.

With Chloe, after the betrayal, the writers ramped up her evil moments while acting like she's always been this cruel. While you could argue these have been traits she's had since Season 1, there's no natural progression to her getting worse after she betrayed Ladybug.

[kanmom51]

Can you believe it's only been 5 weeks?

Feels like an eternity already.

In any case, tomorrow basic training ends and we might (or might not) hear where they are going to be assigned to.

One thing we do know is:

that they are going to be together.

Something that will definitely quieten the nerves.

I've kind of sworn off SM at the moment, after seeing there is so much negativity and just all round yuckiness going on right now. I can't help but wonder if it's boredom or nerves or what not, that has people, once again, promoting doubt and negativity, or in place, policing others with what to post or not post, feeling they are mouth pieces for the two men, not knowing at all what those two men even want or expect of us.

And it's really funny and absurd to me seeing people still doubt the strength of the bond these two young men have. Actually, it's ridiculous at this point.

Anyway, part 1 of their service is done. A very short but also intense and tough part - the transition from civilian to soldier with all it entails. Having to surrender much of your autonomy as an individual and becoming somewhat of a cog in the machine cannot be easy, even more so for those who enlist older, given that they have reached maturity, have a clear path in life, know what they want or don't want, etc.

Welcome to part 2, in which I do hope their placement is a good one, one they will be happy with (as much as you can be happy under these circumstances, of course).

Knowing that whatever may come, they have one another. There to support each other. Make each other laugh, even through the hard times (which I'm sure there will be). Lift one another up when they are feeling down.

And knowing all that, I know they will be ok!!

I need to believe that in a way, and don't come at me for saying this, this ordeal might do good for them (again, knowing they are together and have each other). Getting away from the industry, and even the distance from the fandom (especially the toxic parts of it) can do them good. As hard as it may be, it will give them experience in another aspect of life. In a way, it can even be a time for them to rest (as funny as that may sound). Having a healthier schedule, healthier wake and sleep hours. Healthier diet.

These are young men that all they know is the industry, of which they have been part of for over a decade, since their teenage years . This here (as hard as it is, especially for JM) might be a much needed forced break. To have a rest from the industry. To recharge, distance makes the heart fonder... not creating or performing will ignite or flame that fire in their belly once more. To experience something else in their life. To be treated, more or less, not like a celebrity, but like anybody else, for that short period of time to live their lives like 'ordinary' Korean young men. This can give them insight to things they would never in a million years see or experience otherwise. And it can strengthen them as human beings and as artists as well.

I need to believe all that!!

Anyway, now that part 1 is all but over and they are on to part 2, I'm also hoping that we will get to see more of them on their terms, that hopefully they will choose to keep in touch with us from time to time.

Maybe even together.

I'm really sorry, I feel like this post has been all over the place. I guess just like my current state of mind, lol.

In any case wishing them all the luck in their new assignments. Hope they are happy and content and STAY SAFE!!!

[cthulhusstepmom]

"Gid we need to talk."

Well fuck.

It's far too early for a Kremy talk.

"You already spell the door shut?"

"You know I did."

With a long-suffering grumble Gideon settles further into the chair, body sore and muscles relaxed in that perfect, intoxicating, pleasure-drenched way that inevitably chases a night of questionable decisions. The mug of strong black coffee on the table in front of him steams, almost too hot even for him.

He can feel a pair of piercing yellow eyes trailing over his neck and shoulders, can feel the quiet disapproval like a stinging rash.

"She got you good hmm?"

"If she didn't her friend certainly did." Gideon chuckles, suppresses the urge to adjust the undershirt he'd slipped on as Brittany and... Courtney? Christie? (Something with a C he's about 60% sure) Had taken their leave late last night(probably early this morning but fuck if he's gonna be worried about the time). Every rouged bite and bruise flames under the fabric in a way that feels far too much like shame.

The barely there feeling of cool fingertips on his shoulder burns like a cold brand, superseding any temporary claim laid underneath in an instant.

"Any coffee left in the pot?" It's not a question, not really; even if Gideon is loathe to move away from that grounding touch he knows this is his part in the song and dance(and dancing always had been more his thing). Falling into the practiced motion he heaves himself up onto his feet to retrieve Kremy's cup from the small cupboard in the wagon, hands whipping together (the equivalent of) an americano with a splash of cream and no sugar.

In the time it takes for the cup to come together Kremy has removed his suit jacket, folded it carefully and set it on top of the rumpled covers of Gideon's cot, before placing his hat atop it and settling into the chair facing the door. Gid gingerly sets the cup on its saucer before placing it in front of Kremy and falling back into his own chair with a grunt. The other man makes a pleased sound as he takes a sip and a pleasant flame of emotion licks at the back of Gideon's brain.

"New technique?" A pair of clever yellow eyes peer over the rim of the cup.

"Working out a few bugs."

"Mmm."

Silence falls in the cozy interior and Gideon can almost pretend those lovely aches and marks didn't come from Brianna or Carrie at all, can indulge in the effortless, lasting clarity he only finds in moments like these.

"What's that bring the total to this week?"

"What total?" Playing dumb with Kremy is playing a loser's hand and he knows it. All he gets for his trouble is the unimpressed arch of a single brow. "Well I guess it depends if you're asking about encounters or headcount." He tries with a lascivious chuckle.

"Every night this week Gid! Every single night you've been tied up with some hussy or another and every day you've been waiting to do it again! You almost set the big top on fire yesterday you were so goddamn distracted!" Heat floods the tips of his ears at the memory. "I want an explanation Gid and I want one now. What the hell is going on with you?"

Now would be the time to say it, to come clean. To just tell Kremy, his boss, his friend, about the click clacking of train wheels over tracks that haunts his brain. How sometimes he can't hear his own thoughts under the bellowing whistle of a long gone steam engine. How his skin doesn't feel like it belongs to him, his body a machine for someone else's use. How good it fucking feels to find parts of himself in the core of somebody else, working for his own pleasure and dragging them along with him right up to the brink. How those primal sounds of skin on skin solidify that he's not just another cog in an infernal machine, forever toiling until he's sucked dry and spit out. How even then it's not always enough, that it's these quiet moments, devising more and more intricate ways to get the perfect cup of coffee that he doesn't even enjoy, sitting at his little table so close their legs have to touch, riding at the head of the caravan directing the horses while Kremy ticks boxes and traces routes on maps at his side, these small quiet moments that quiet his brain more than a month of one night stands and empty touches ever could.

"You know I'm fine with your proclivities, Gods knows you've earned it." A small part of his brain purrs. "But something's obviously bothering you and that's not something I can stand." And just like that he's pierced on a golden stake, feeling those eyes slice him into delicate layers and pick through them at their own leisure.

But Kremy doesn't rush him, never has, just sits serenely and allows him to fiddle with his words, fine tuning his meaning to the best of his abilities.

Now would be the time to say it.

"Remember when you offered me my own wagon?"

A look of mild surprise crosses a reptilian face. "Vaguely."

Gideon nods, letting the word hang on the air, intermingling with the smell of over engineered coffee.

Finally:

" Would you be open to rooming together again?"

The frown that crosses Kremy's features pierces between all the whirring mechanical bits of himself and straight into the fragile meat of his beating heart.

"Well Gid it's good of you to offer but you know I don't swing that way. You're more than welcome to keep the ladies to yourself, can have my share too while you're at it."

It takes a minute to grasp what Kremy's insinuating.

"No man! Not like that, I wouldn't do that to you, not rooming together at least. I'd just invite you here..."He pauses, grasping for the right words. "When it gets quiet... when I'm alone... it can be too... loud... in my head, s' fucked up, down, and sideways..." He trails off, looking up and searching Kremy's gaze for answers, he always has the answers.

His friend nods in understanding.

"Think I can arrange that, we'll need to rearrange the furniture and we can always use another Chow wagon." he begins muttering, turning things over in his head, organizing his thoughts like a hand of cards.

"You know I'm not too picky, I can sleep on the floor."

Kremy waves a hand absent mindedly. "There's plenty of room for two in the bed-" cutting himself off with a painful choking sound, Gideon can see a thread of panic strumming through Kremy's posture. "Of course that's a hell of a presumption, huddling for warmth is a whole different thing I shouldn't have said any-"

"So long as I get a little desk space to tinker and warm breakfast I'm satisfied." Gid shrugs. He misses sharing sleeping arrangements with Kremy, the wagons were a nice upgrade, more spacious and stable than tents and bedrolls, but they also took the few times he was able to hold close the smaller form of his partner. The privilege of feeling the cold-stiffness bleed out of his limbs and turn into languid sleep. Like cuddling the cold side of a pillow all night, a pillow that will occasionally rumble like a thunderstorm and vibrate his whole chest.

"I won't have any of your Jezebels in my bed, you want to let off that steam, fine, but not in our wagon."

Our.

"Seems reasonable enough." He smirks.

"You have yourself a deal Gid."

[hasellia]

The Process of Frank Herbert writing the Dune series (from my very vague memory of a video essay).

Franklin Patrick Herbert Jr. watches Lawrence Of Arabia (1962).

It becomes his problematic fave, and he writes fanficion; “Lawrence of Arabia IN SPAAAAAACCEEE.”

Franklin needs money and decides to send his fanfiction to a publisher. The book becomes an unexpected hit.

He wants to rewrite Dune to repair the ethical problems of his favourite movie, but the publishers tell Herbert that a rewrite or a clone will be seen as a lazy cash grab that would lose them trust.

UH OH! RENT IS DUE!!! If he wants to pay rent and eat a nice dinner, Frankie better write a sequel!

Sequel 1; The story continues, but the supporting characters pine for a better version of their world by vocalising the problems of the MC’s colonialism.

The audience doesn't get it. Maybe it’s too subtle.

Sequel 2: The MC commits major atrocities, including a horrific genocide. He’s not a god or a messiah. He’s just another worthless cog in the machine of colonialism.

The audience feels bad that their hero is seen as a worthless cog. Maybe he just needs Jesus. That way, he can make up for the irreversible loss of millions of lives! God finds a way.

RENT IS DUE

Sequel 3: The MC has a son to carry on his legacy. The son loathes him. He channels his inner cool rebel, angsty Sasuke energy to tell the audience of children that “pot is cool, genocide drools!”

The audience is vaguely offended that Sasuke said pot is cool and still thinks genocide is okay. Or at the very least, the colonialism was okay in the circumstances of the Dune universe.

Patrick is out of patience.

Sequel 4: Sasuke huffs all the pot in the universe and becomes the king god of worms. With his infinite wisdom, he writes a Martin Luther style manifesto of every bad thing his father did. Point for point, sin for sin. The manifesto is within the novel itself and is roughly 97.8% of its reading. Repeated throughout the novel and manifesto and the novel itself is “Colonialism and genocide is NEVER okay. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE , IN ANY WORLD , IT IS N E V E R OKAY.”

The audience’s main take away is that the king god of worms is cool.

Herb is out of pot to keep the Jesus in him. He is so tired of trying to just F I X these people. He channels every ounce of energy he has left to figuring out a concrete way to explain to his audience how colonialism and genocide is bad. In his late middle-aged life, it’s the only way he can stop himself from picking up a phone book to find and throttle some nerds.

Sequel 5: Out of the sand and ether, Sasuke Luther King God of Worm’s long-lost never mentioned before normal human descendant appears. She walks up to the audience, hold their eyelids open, stares directly at them within a cm of distance from her own, and says; “Colonialsim bad. Genoicide is a bad. Do not do. Is bad. Alway. O.k.?”

The remaining audience says. “ye. ok.”

Franklin Patrick Herbert Junior finally has a win and dies promptly on the spot from exhaustion at the ancient age of 65.

That’s just my guess, though. Most of what I know about Dune is from Jack Saint's video and a 10-second glance on Wikipedia.

[nuhackearney]

Fic: At A Loss

For @romanthereigns and anyone else feeling a little blue over LA's loss tonight. I said I wouldn't go here, but here we are...(aka, LA Knight x Reader)

You get people drinks, you pick up towels, you watch over equipment...yeah, you're pretty much a go-fer, but you adore your job! You get to travel, meet interesting people and you work for one of the most entertaining businesses in the world - the WWE!

Sure, the superstars don't know your name and you're not famous or anything, but you're an important cog in a big machine and you know your worth.

...you also know you have a helpless, stupid, unbelievably bad crush on LA Knight.

...yeah.

You're into him.

Too bad that, just like everyone else in the biz, he'll never notice you. Hell, he doesn't even know you exist.

Or so you think.

You're on hand for Crown Jewel. The energy is high, the activity chaotic. You've never dashed around so much in your life! Water bottle for Sami Zayn here, a boom for a member of camera crew there, and so on and so on.

You manage to catch snippets of different matches, but as a whole it's hard to keep up. Right until the very end. The end where the Bloodline yet again interferes and yet again help Roman score the win.

...which means LA lost.

It's a sobering realization. You were really rooting for him - even aside from your ridiculous one sided crush - you were hoping for someone to finally dethrone the Tribal Chief.

But, yet again, disappointed.

Poor LA, you think, but you know better. He's a big strong guy, he'll bounce back, no skin off his nose. He's the Megastar, everyone says his name and everyone knows it's his game. He'll be fine.

Again, or so you think.

Until, very very late into the evening, as you go to clean up one of the messy break rooms and you come across him. It makes your breath bottle in your throat, the sight of him sitting on one of the cafeteria tables, his head in his hands.

He's fully dressed now - brown leather jacket, 'Yeah' shirt, jeans, and boots. A totally different look from what he wore to the ring tonight. He must hear you come in, because he lifts his head to turn and look at you.

You clear your throat and offer a weak wave, even as you manage a near toneless, "I'll, ah-? Come back later..."

The plan is to stealthily back out, but he sits up straight and gestures to you, "Naw, naw - come on over, y/n."

His voice is loud, but more somber than you've heard it before and he? He said your name? You carefully ease further into the room and walk towards him, your fingers sort of nervously playing with one another as you get closer, "Um? You know my name?"

"Sure. I've seen you at lots of shows. They call your name all the time for shit. Ice packs, sandwiches, hairspray - there anything they don't have you fetch?"

You shake your head because he's not wrong. Again, you know your role. Maybe that's what he needs? Your go-fer skills? And you're about to ask if you can get him something when he asks quietly, "Think you can get me a second shot?"

This makes you seize up, "What do you mean?"

He lets out a huff, "Guess you didn't see me lose out there."

You don't know what to say.

He does, "Oh yeah, a big ol' 'L'. Granted, Roman's boys stuck in their noses again - Solo making a stink at the front, Jimmy in the back, but the end results just the same."

You've never seen him so serious before, so-? Well, melancholy is the first word that comes to mind, and the thought twists your heart into knots. You want to reassure him. Say something cool or clever, but your tongue is numb as he runs one hand over his five o'clock grizzled chin, "I dunno. Maybe I've been fooling myself. Fooling everybody."

"That's not true!" You blurt it out so quickly you almost don't realize you're the one who said it. But then his blue eyes swing to you and it's like a laser slicing you in half, that intense focus of his.

You clear your throat and feel your cheeks heat even as you keep your eyes averted when you talk, "You're-? You're the real deal. I know it. I feel it."

You know he's still looking at you and you feel a little sick and your heart is beating double time but you press on, "Yes, you didn't take the gold this time, but everyone is still behind you. Everybody is still saying your name, chanting for you - you're a superstar, you're a champion!"

"Yeah?" And he asks his normally rowdy catchphrase in a wry, teasing way that only makes the heat in your cheeks worse and god, this is torture. Does he know you have a crush on him?!? Is he possibly teasing you to death?

Being on the business end of one of his BFT's would be kinder...

"Yeah." You cough into one hand so that you can try and subtly rub away some of the heat from your skin, "So, y'know - you'll win. Get the gold you deserve. It's only a matter of time."

"Matter of time, huh?"

You nod and finally risk looking at him. He looks deep in thought and it's almost as if you can read his mind, "I-? I know you have been waiting for a long time already. But... it's going to happen. I promise."

There's a beat of silence between you and then, out of nowhere, he throws back his head and laughs. It's a happy sound and attractive laugh lines appear under his eyes as he reaches out a hand to you and ruffles your hair.

Such a simple and silly action shouldn't be so stimulating, yet here you are, practically melting under it as he rubs warmly and gently at your scalp, "You know what, y/n? You're right. It IS going to happen. YEAH."

The last is said loudly and with his classic jovial tone as he withdraws his hand and he stands up to get down to your level, albeit he still towers over you, "Not only 'cause you promised me, but because I promised myself! I just needed the reminder!"

"Oh!" You offer weakly, breathlessly, "Uh, good! Glad I could help!"

Your next plan is to turn and scurry away because you're sure that's what he wants, because that's what everyone wants after you've helped, but he freezes you with a, "Now wait a minute, you ain't leaving, are ya?"

Your eyes go wide with confusion even as he offers you the kind of saucy grin you've only seen from afar, "'Cause I could still use your help."

"Y-you could?"

"Sure." He eyes you up and down, "I need somebody to go out and eat with me tonight. Need somebody to test my kavorka on. Make sure it's still working."

It is, trust me! Almost pops out of your mouth immediately, but this time you manage to hold the words back, instead giving him a demur, "Alright."

"There we go." He throws one arm around your shoulders and gives you a little squeeze, "Hey, stick with me, kid and I promise you, you'll get what you deserve!"

While you're positive that he thinks you deserve a better job or pay or something along those lines, you honestly hope that you get what you want more than what you deserve.

Hell, you're actually getting what you want right now.

A night out with LA Knight?

YEAH.

[hotvampireadjacent]

Idk I’m really luck all things considered. I always feel guilty bc my current field of work is one of the worsssttttttttt like honestly only a step above working for the military (debt collections law firm)

Idk I think what’s fucking me up mentally is everyone here is so nice it feels like none of us are acknowledging the harm we’re doing. And. I know my friends and manager are all here bc we don’t have a choice really. I don’t plan on staying here long.

I guess my issue is bc I don’t feel god awful like I did at my last job I feel guilty bc I’m participating in actively harming society. I’m not. Like. Trying to get someone to comfort me just venting in general. I feel like I should be actively afraid and feeling awful every day like I did at my last job. (For different reasons my previous boss was a dickhead the law itself wasn’t bad)

I should be able to leave in less than a year. I only plan on staying here for as much as I have to. Once I get accepted (if) to law school I can and will change work to something closer to future school.

If I don’t get into law school I’ll take my experience and work in a different law firm.

My point is I feel. Nice that I met so many nice people and friends here. I was really depressed and isolated after I got laid off. I was able to move out of my house thanks to this job. And I’m happy but I feel guilty for being happy (as I should be)

It’s only temporary but I guess my point is. The people minus the bourgeoisie law firm owners are so nice and normal. (The owners are nice too but. They can afford to be nice.) when you think of who works at a debt collection law firm you imagine scum of the earth evil people. In realitily it’s every day people like you and me just another cog in the capitalist machine trying to get by.

The owners and bourgeoisie actively chose to enter this awful field, me and my proletariat workers did not.

Idk I’m not trying to make an excuse for myself but I am making excuses for my fellow workers here. Say what you want about me but I know how we all struggle, and they struggle. For most of us this is a jumping board to better less awful work as soon as we can get out.

I made a lot of nice friends here and I was so lonely and isolated before I had this job. People who are introverts like me and don’t mind how of putting other more extroverts usually find me.

Just thinking to myself bc I’m an open fucking book here and post about my entire life

[otsanda]

I was reading this great meta by @fuckyeahisawthat about Aziraphale and Crowley metaphorically switching places— from Crowley being the giver of Knowledge and the freedom of choice to humanity and Aziraphale being the protector, by giving humans the flaming sword to Crowley being the protector of humanity and Aziraphale granting knowledge and freedom of choice.

But this made something click into place for me that I’d been turning over in my mind for a while: what if it’s not just freedom and knowledge and choice for humanity… what if Aziraphale functionally brings freedom and choice and knowledge to everyone!

I mean, one thing I haven’t really seen anyone talking about is the contrast between the portrayal of angels and demons (generally) in S1 and specific angels and demons in S2. The first season really set Heaven and Hell up as full of a lot of characters who had their own quirks and unique aspects, but still functioned very well as cogs in the same type of machine.

Gabriel and Beelzebub are the most obvious examples, since they had the biggest pivot in S2: suddenly it’s not just Aziraphale and Crowley who are the special ones.

We get to see these two other characters have thoughts and desires and aspirations beyond that of following their angelic/demonic natures or furthering the cause of their respective sides. S2 really humanizes both of these characters who were (in S1) the best real example that we saw of an official representative of the corporate goings-on from each side. God and Satan were there in S1, but in a much less visible way (and even LESS visible in S2).

But even beyond Beez and Gabe, S2 took careful steps to humanize a lot of other ethereal/occult characters as well. We see Michael both confident and shaken, sarcastic and unsure. Strong, but with aspirations to go Higher. Uriel pushes back, questions authority, and asks for reassurance that they’ve not done something wrong. Side note: I really hope we get to see more Uriel development bc Uriel has so much interesting potential to me.

Muriel wasn’t in S1, but is an obvious parallel for early Aziraphale and we see a lot of similarities between them (their enthusiasm and delight at experiencing Earth, being believed when attempting a particular human job, enjoying books, etc).

Even the demons we see aren’t a monolith. Shax feels quite different from the classic evil demons we’ve met before. Furfur and Eric too. Although they’re doing demon stuff, none of these demons act all that demonic. We see even more hints at them struggling and learning and growing. Being… more human.

Heck, even the demon with the scary mouth in E4, Astoreth, was just doing his job.

So then what if the end of S2 is establishing Crowley as the defender of Humanity while positioning Aziraphale to share knowledge and the freedom of choice in heaven. If the ‘big battle’ that Crowley mentioned at the end of S1 is between Humanity and whoever is representing Heaven or Hell, maybe it’s time to give more ethereal and occult beings the opportunity to choose their own place in that fight.

Because I think that Crowley is right that Heaven and Hell are toxic. And Aziraphale is right that they both can do good. And separating the two of them, as painful as it is to watch, could give Aziraphale the space to see glimpses of humanity in the other angels (and even demons?) while positioned in Heaven. And it could give Crowley... probably trust issues, actually. I guess let's put a pin in that part.

But come Season 3, I would love to see Crowley and Aziraphale positioned on opposite sides of the war to end all wars, Aziraphale representing Heaven (and Hell?) and Crowley alongside Humanity. But before anything truly awful happens, they do what they always do.

They’ll come up with a plan. And they'll rescue one another and themselves.

And everything else and everyone else will fall into place around them.

[skyward-floored]

When they first talk to Legend in the Downfall IAU, he can't talk to them because his agent is on the way. What is his agent like? Are they an ally in his secret efforts? Are they actively cruel? Are they just another cog in the machine, unaware and/or uncaring of the extent of his unhappiness in his situation? Why did they feel the need to talk face to face? Did Four and Wind get Legend into trouble somehow, or does he often discuss assignments in person with them? Is the band around Legend's wrist just for communication or is it also tracking his movements, vital signs, power use etc.? Can it be used for discipline (delivering a shock for leaving a certain area, for instance)? Can he ever take it off?

You can ignore any and all of these questions btw. I don't know where they all came from. 😅 The angst has hold of me

The angst has ahold of me as well, don’t worry about it 😂

Legend’s agent is pretty awful. I thought about making him be Agahnim, but upon thinking about it he’d probably be higher up in the ranking of things. So I picked a random alttp boss and decided that would be good— Arrgus.

Anyway guy got demoted after some kind of a mess he was the scapegoat for, and because of this, hates Legend with a burning passion (he suspects Legend was the cause of the mess, and he’s right lol. Just can’t prove it). For reference though, Twilight’s agent is a lot less actively evil and more just a cog like you said, so not all of them are awful. Legend just makes a lot of people mad XD

Anyway he came to talk face-to-face because Legend took an unauthorized detour— he was supposed to come directly back after the patrol he was in the middle of (which Four and Wind caught the tail end of before approaching him). Not doing so is highly suspicious. So... yeah, Wind and Four kinda get him in trouble.

Legend has excuses for everything though, so he worms his way out of it (“I thought I saw something suspicious, but I was mistaken”). Arrgus doesn’t really believe him, but Legend is unfortunately good at what he does, so without better proof, Arrgus can’t do much aside from being a little extra rude to him.

Also while I was calling them agents, overseer is probably a better word, since they basically monitor whatever super they’re assigned to and make sure they’re not doing anything they shouldn’t be. There’s probably an even better word I’m just not thinking of though ha.

The wristbands can definitely track movement and power use, probably other stuff as well. They’re mandatory too. I don’t know how Legend would get away with half of what he does if he couldn’t take his band off, but then again, I can’t think of a legitimate reason for the government to just let them remove them. Maybe when they’re at home and not on duty..? That seems unlikely though. Hm... guess it needs more thought!

Also I didn’t think about the possibility of it delivering a shock, but that’s genius. I’m definitely using that >:)

[cheese-water]

Generation Loss being a tv show makes so much on a meta level. Like remember how Ranboo said there’s a reason why it’s streamed on his twitch channel, and how we all thought it was because he was secretly broadcasting it? That was disproven quickly with Showfall Media publicly promoting the viewpoint and the existence of Squiggles on the broadcast.

So let’s look at the the episodes through the lens of a tv broadcast instead of a twitch stream. It becomes clear why Ranboo always gets himself into these wacky situations and miraculously survives till the end unlike his friends. Ranboo is the main character. Ranboo is the protagonist.

Compare them to another tv protagonist, like Ted Lasso. Sure other characters contribute to the story of each episode, but we as a viewer always follow the main character’s highs and lows, successes and failures, rights and wrongs. They are how the plot moves forward and conflict is created and dissolved. There’s a reason why we don’t see Sneeg’s escape attempt, Ethan Austin and Vinny being freed from the machine, Jerma’s demise; because it doesn’t matter. We don’t care. Showfall doesn’t want us to care.

Our viewpoint is Ranboolive. Who cares if a couple side characters die when the main character is about to solve the next puzzle. He is what keeps the show running, an essential cog in this beautiful machine. He will keep this broadcast rolling whether they like it or not.

Makes you wonder how many other “viewpoints” there are. Are they similar television channels, different people, sets, situations all at the press of a button? Is Showfall Media just beginning of interactive experience entertainment or is it one of hundreds of other programs following the same protocols, each baring a long list of missing persons cases that have yet to be solved? Who really was the “Founder?”

I guess we have to wait and see…

[adeliethevilsimp]

I have a hot take. You know the line where Rook first time meeting Vil it is actually really sweet if you think about it. No I am not delusional Like the line saying “there is no other actor can portray such evil hysterical the worst human scum role” Usually villains are not written to be likeable in mind. Fun, for sure but probably not likeable and redeemable usually. probably less screen time but still needs to be done.

It is like everything including villain are cogs in the machine that is the play. It need to be done. It can just be done badly and with no substance but you also can have a very good villain to be brought into life by a good actor and be memorable. That make you go“They are such a good villain”.

Personally I relate to Vil on so many things. One thing is that I was assigned to act as the villain. I am a girl but they want me to act as a middle-aged male minister who is also a dick. I have to wear a moustache too so you know kids are going to be normal about that *queue sarcasm*. I have never know why my teacher asked me to do it. Now of course it was a cool thing like MF my acting transcends gender But I wondered all the time why they asked me to do it. I don’t mind it it was unusual for sure. I just don’t want the bullying.I continued to do it because I do love acting also work ethics. I guess I just wanted to know why I was chosen. What I am trying to say is Rook's remark is very horrendous at first glance but it is really like “Only you can bring a villain like that into life. So memorable.”

My take is it was so memorable it made Rook start appreciating Villain. I know Rook also said before “I have seen so many of your roles but I did not remember you much”. It at first glance sound like Rook think the acting is bad but it does not have to be the only interpretation. Coz like you can be distracted and not remembering things just because you are focusing on other things. when I was crushing on Sweeney Todd I barely noticed how interesting the music is. I was so happy when I learnt about the music element.

like there was another part of the cake to be eaten. The cake you think you have finished and you really like. And there is more! Sort of thing. To Rook it is like Vil's acting like as so good and memorable made him realise the other side of the cake he love so much. But you know it is Rook so it comes out weird but also he was not necessarily harsh about it it is just the truth but it come out in a Rook's way. I thought about this because recently I talked to my mom about I wonder why the teacher chose me thing and she said “I went to the rehearsal once and I thought you are really good. You went into character so fast and take it with stride”

I know this is like me saying how good I am. I am just trying to say I think to Rook it is actually something like that. So his comment actually kind of sweet if you think about it. Yes I want someone to say that to me now okay xD

So it is actually kind of sweet Your acting was so good it made me realised villain is so integral and can be so memorable. You showed me something more about the things I already like. Your acting was so good you make such villain so memorable. You are one of a kind

So yeah. And I feel like other people may think so but were too scared to tell Vil to his face. I mean my personal experience also kind of supports this But not Rook even tho it came out like that. That is my interpretation anyways from my personal experience

[yoomiwrites]

Sugar Rush²¹

Summary: Reader has been working directly under the Admirals, Kuzan, Kizaru and Akainu for years. Little by little, the dynamic changes and friendship (and more) develops.

Note: Just because he says reader is "young", I don't mean like 20 years younger. But that's up to you I guess. ALSO: If a man treats you like that, no matter why, PLEASE don't be fine with a lil sorry or so. IT IS toxic behavior!

Two days later, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, I finally got my period. The relief was immense, but with it came the usual symptoms that I dreaded: cramps, fatigue, and an all-around feeling of misery. But, in typical fashion, I powered through it, forcing myself to focus on work. I wasn’t going to let a few cramps slow me down, even if my body protested otherwise.

After a particularly rough afternoon of managing paperwork, I excused myself to the bathroom, trying to calm the waves of discomfort that were making my day unbearable. But as I approached the hallway leading to the restrooms, I paused. Voices drifted through the thin walls, familiar ones. Kizaru… and Kuzan.

I pressed myself against the wall, listening in, not quite sure why my feet wouldn’t move. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe something else, but I stayed, quietly eavesdropping on their conversation.

“So, what’s your deal, Borsalino?” Kuzan’s voice was amused, laid-back as usual. “You’re really gonna keep dodging her?”

A heavy sigh followed, and I recognized it as Kizaru’s. “It’s not like that, Kuzan… I like her, I do, but…”

“But?” Kuzan pressed, clearly not letting him off easy.

“But I’m too old for this stuff. For… whatever that is. I’ve been through all that before, and honestly, I don’t feel like it anymore,” Kizaru said, his voice unusually serious. “She’s young, got her whole life ahead of her. I’ve lived mine already.”

Kuzan snorted, clearly unimpressed. “You’re not that old, Borsalino. You’re just being a coward. Afraid of getting close to someone again.”

Kizaru let out a small, almost bitter laugh. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that this… isn’t fair to her. I don’t know what to do, so I do nothing.”

There was a brief silence, and then Kuzan’s voice became uncharacteristically serious. “Look, man, I get it. You’ve got your reasons, and I’m not here to tell you how to live your life. But you need to understand something. She’s our friend. Not just a colleague, not just some subordinate. She’s been with us for years, and whether you want to admit it or not, we’re all pretty close.”

Kizaru stayed silent, so Kuzan continued, “You can’t just brush her off like this. It’s not fair, and it’s not what a friend does. She deserves better than you running away just because you’re scared or unsure. We’re Marines, sure, and she works under us, but that doesn’t change the fact that we owe it to her to treat her like more than just some… recruit. She’s our friend above all else.”

I felt my breath hitch in my throat. Friend? Is that really how they saw me? After all these years, I’d never allowed myself to think I was more than just another cog in the Marines’ well-oiled machine, but hearing it said so plainly, so sincerely, by Kuzan of all people… it struck something deep inside me.

“I know,” Kizaru said quietly, his voice sounding… conflicted. “You’re right.”

Kuzan let out a small chuckle. “I usually am. Now stop being such an idiot and figure out what you really want, before you lose the chance.”

I quickly scurried back the way I came, my heart pounding, not just from the sudden movement but from everything I had just overheard. Kizaru liked me? He did care, but… he didn’t want to be with me? The conflicting emotions crashed into me like a tidal wave.

I managed to make it back to my desk, my mind still racing. The cramps were the least of my problems now as I tried to process everything I had just heard. I had been so angry at him, thinking he was just playing with my feelings, but maybe… maybe he was just scared. Maybe he didn’t know what to do, just like I didn’t.

But that didn’t change the fact that it still hurt. That he hadn’t said any of this to me. He hadn’t talked to me.