#because then I am forced to confront the fact that all of the posts I reblog and comment on were also People Having Thoughts

[explorastro]

RANDOM ASTRO TAKES #2

I hope New Year Eve was right and joyful for you like the 365 days who gonna following, good reading 🌝🥳

Capricorn placements can enhancing fatality in the story of the native, La Vita e Bella has a stellium in this sign for example.

Derivative 9H of Pisces falls in Scorpio, that’s why witchcraft is a divination that inspire you, make you grateful of what you are and have.

I think about the fact that gravity is an illusion of immobility when Saturn is in Pisces.

I've noticed that with Cancer placements, records can be set in sports where there are confrontations. This is due to the Capricorn derivative in 7, which represents mountains that are impossible to climb, and the image speaks for itself. Examples : Michael Jordan, Lionel Messi, Michael Phelps, Leon Marchand.

Those born with Jupiter dominance are more prone to forgiving and leave on a good note, such a bless for everyone.

With Saturn in Gemini, communication has to be so meticulous and dedicated to a long-term goal that it becomes time-consuming. It means forcing yourself to be perfect, only to end up being copied rather than equaled. Eminem is the emblem of all this.

Thinking about the fact that the prime of football (soccer) was during Neptune in Pisces sextile Pluto in Capricorn, peak artistic entertainment on the pitch.

The primes of basketball were during Pluto in Scorpio and Neptune in Pisces, generational planets makes global sports explode positively.

It's can be easy to be confused, or to think that a Cancer placement's gentleness is a sign of weakness, when he uses it to win you over. This is due to the Pisces drifting into the 9th house.

Geminis imitate when they love and when they hate, but also get copied out of love, envy or mockery. It's subtle details (Virgo derivative in 4) or a magnified trait (Pisces and Sagittarius in 10/7).

Aquarius in derivative 12H of Pisces is a marker of evolution, which takes us backwards technically when these virtual worlds and all the robotics and artificial intelligence explode.

The zodiac is subjective, aspects btw planets are objective.

Try to understand why gemini are so hated and I have an answer : their curiosity and social awareness rules the world.

The greatest mysteries of the universe remain its limits, what it's contained within and its destiny on an infinite time scale. saturn is in joy in 12.

The aspect btw the sign of your ascendant and your Sun tells how your body is correlated to your identity.

René Descartes achieving his philosophical journey by saying because i think i am, he has a stellium in Aries square Capricorn rising and ruled by a gemini mars, soo on brand.

Boss mode placements :

Sun/Moon/Venus/Mars/Saturn in 10H/11H

Pluto in 1H/7H/10H/11H

Any placements in Capricorn

Saturn in aspect to Pluto/Mars

Venus in aspect to Pluto/Saturn

Sun in aspect to Pluto/Saturn/Mars

Sun/Venus in 8H

Saturn/Pluto/Mars/Sun/Venus in Scorpio.

I Hope you have enjoyed this post and good start of 2025 🙏❤️

[dykedvonte]

You ever just see a Mouthwashing take that makes you want to bang your head into a wall? I literally just saw someone claim Curly couldn't have been emotionally abused by Jimmy before the crash because he was in a higher position of power than Jimmy.

-Shrimp Anon

The mouthwashing fandom has shown me that people genuinely do believe that certain types of abuse are not as detrimental as other types especially when they deem those immune/resistant, ergo, believing one is objectively worse no matter how it affects the person nor the intersections of power, history and dynamics at play.

Get ready cause this is a yap session:

Cause like it's heavily implied that Curly and Jimmy's friendship was toxic and abusive, pointedly in the direction of how Jimmy uses Curly's belief/comfort in him. Curly wasn't forced to enable Jimmy but he was emotional and mentally on edge around him in almost every scene in some way. Mental and emotional abuse are not contingent on what positions you have at work. Yeah, he's Jimmy's boss but he was Jimmy's friend first and it's like getting into Psych discussion to talk about how social power tends to overshadow any perceived organizational power in the human mind. People are concerned about their jobs ofc but they tend to hang onto and put more value/investment into their personal relationships, hence why there tends to be laws and restrictions around mixing the two.

I always see the sentiments that "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" as criticisms of Curly and while I do agree that on the surface level all of these to be true and viable ways Curly could've taken more control of the situation, I often look at the parallels of Anya and Curly as victims of Jimmy pre/post crash.

The way Jimmy talks to Anya post crash is how he talked to Curly in the pre-crash segments. It's hard to pin-point mainly because we know he hates and wants nothing to do with Anya compared to his contrary but similarly handled obsessions with Curly. It's a weird sort of "honey-moon" effect of abuse Jimmy does in terms of emotional and mental victimization. He is always horrid to Anya, always talking down or questioning her abilities and thoughts in a situation, this of course includes the harassment and assault. However, he has a moment of attempted gentleness/conditioning when he question her about the mouthwash when she's contemplating drinking it at the table. The key difference is he has no personal investment in Jimmy outside wanting nothing to do with him, meaning there is no sort of romanticized version of him that he can condition her off of. He knows this, hence, why he always reverts to trying to make her to scared to oppose him.

This sort of give and take of "kindness" doesn't work on her because she knows he is just doing it to take more from her than whatever he could possibly give but it reflects even the "softer" scenes between him and Curly where he always rewords or rephrases Curly's sentiments and concerns to sound more shallow. He is feigning a deeper understanding by reworking Curly's emotions into something bad and needing to be hidden. Everything is laced with envy and resentment, an outburst just around the corner, I mean he even slams the table in the birthday party scene, a tactic in emotional manipulation to set the victim on edge and cloud their ability to respond. Even if Curly knows Jimmy won't get physical in that moment, the physical actions is intended to make him back down in the confrontation in case it does. This is something that is just not person specific. It ingrains itself into how you interact with the world and life and it shows in major and minor ways with Curly.

Post-crash, the abusive nature is more in tandem to the physical victimization Anya went through and the stripping of voice and autonomy we see take place. Like the parasite in HFIM, Jimmy speaks for Curly most of the time and puts words in his mouth, similarly to how he takes Anya's plans as his own. He very commonly, with the both of them mind you, supplements the worst aspects of himself into them; pettiness, selfishness, lack of understanding... And tries to cover himself with their best qualities; kindness, planning, initiative, etc...

These parallel are just to say that positional power has little to do with if a person can be abused and how it can even be flipped to further the abuse. There is no doubt that Curly could've picked up on Jimmy's envy of his position hence another reason he never confronted him as a Captain but as a friend as doing so would immediately put Jimmy in a space to be confrontational/combative.

I think the disdain some people have when they talk about the heavily implied if not implicitly stated emotional/mental abuse Curly experienced being Jimmy's friend is when treating it as an excuse to why he didn't do more. I can understand that completely because it is not an excuse to why he didn't do more but is a very real reason people in his position in these scenarios can experience whether in the context of a work or social environment. However, I also think the way people talk about it really does demonstrate a bigger problem when talking about abuse when somehow who is/was abused is either part of the issue or enabled it.

Harkening back to the sentiments about Curly's inaction regarding Jimmy, I think the exact phrases I used/have seen show how there is an inherent belief that it is easier to overpower the effects of emotional/mental abuse that go in tandem with the perception of Curly as someone who should be able to. There is not an age you suddenly stop being susceptible to abuse nor a set point or low where you realize how it has affected you. You don't suddenly know to stand up or put a face on to face your abuser nor admit that you inadvertently enabled them to subjugate someone else to the same treatment. Maybe it's my psych brain but their is this growing belief that direct action is somehow easy or always the best method with the game shows you instances where it is not always the case. In real life that rings true too. He should have done more, but it's not impossible to see why he struggled to find a way or didn't even if it makes us mad.

It's not easy to suddenly gain a "back-bone". You don't immediately want to resort to aggression, especially if it mirrors the type you were a victim to. You don't want to believe you allowed yourself to be treated this bad, let it get that bad or allowed something bad to happen to someone else. It is easy to be in denial, to retreat to your thoughts or make excuses to avoid the painful truth. It's frustrating but in a way we know is relatable. It why we both hate and love Curly for it. We know we'd be better, we think we'd be better, we like to think we wouldn't falter in the same ways but it's always easier to say that from the outside looking in. It's easy to see what he was doing wrong because we are seeing it, not him, but the game really does make you picture what you would do if this was your raw reality and it's why this debate about Curly seems so never ending/contradictory. We can all say what we'd do but bottom line is that's much different when you're in the moment with all the emotions and human feelings attached.

I personally think Mouthwashing tackles the themes of rape culture, enabling, toxic masculinity, types of abuse and patriarchy in ways that are meant to deconstruct the typical straightforward views we mostly have of these concepts and how little subtilities of them are just as, if not more, detrimental than the overt/obvious parts. The game deals with the idea of little details and bigger picture in a way to show that sometimes the bigger picture is not the issue but the little details that make it up. It's why I have a personal dislike of depictions of Jimmy as the typical horrible person who would of course do something like this because the game is about noticing the little warning signs, the foreshadowing and foresight.

It's why I dislike the typical discussion of "bro code" and "boys will be boys" for the game because the game makes a point to avoid the standard depictions of such. It is about the type of men who still enable despite not condoning, agreeing or even perpetuating harmful beliefs because they can't see the little details or the ways it seeps into their everyday. The severity is not obvious to them as it was not obvious to Curly, Swansea or even Daisuke the way it was to a woman like Anya. There are little details about Jimmy that should ring alarms but if you are too naive like Daisuke, too distant like Swansea or too conditioned like Curly, they are just off markers.

There is 100% more constructive/concise ways to say "Curly was a victim of Jimmy's abuse on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario" while also critiquing on the side of "Curly still had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed to do due to biases and stigma's he failed to surpass" without the weird condemnation people give him about should've knowing better than to let himself be manipulated by a person he considered a close, if not family/best-friend and had his own reasons to trust initially. Also stop being weird about victims of abuse in general with this fandom, like sorry not everyone has a like social epiphany the moment someone's nasty to them. People are treating it like you immediately know when you are in a toxic relationship immediately or comprehend when a person is actively dangerous and either it's your fault for not knowing how to leave/cut them off or you deserve it. Like the hypocrisy of people believing how certain fans treat the story reflect their irl views but not their own is crazy.

End statement is: I honestly don't even know man, I've been writing this too long and just like no man on that ship was perfect or really helped Anya when it mattered and I feel like pitting them against each other in discussion on who did the least or most or how it was justified sucks cause in the end Anya always did the most and best thing for herself.

[babybabymerrychristmas]

it does NOT surprise me that there are SO MANY tabloid movies coming out being labelled as "documentaries" filled with "friend of a friend of a friend" claims or like heavily, heavily, heavily biased with a clear narrative the filmmaker wanted to push from the beginning that tells only one possible explanation of the truth.

usually if a documentary is trying really, really, really, really hard to make you think a certain way, it's a propaganda piece. you shouldn't have to force feed your audience the "right" opinion to take away from the film evidence. you should present the full story as accurately as possible with real historical evidence to back up the storyline and the audience will walk away with the right idea.

documentaries should not have an overly persuasive tone to them because you should be able to follow the facts to get to the right answer yourself. if you find yourself walking away from a documentary feeling nothing but "wow this proves exactly what i suspected to be true why arent more people angry about niche radicalizing viewpoint that most people find to be inaccurate" you should recognize that as the first step to being indoctrinated into extremist behaviors and thoughts.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

I share a stupid meme or photo on tumblr and I barely notice if it hits 500 notes. Also the tags are funny.

I make a vaguely-relatable text post and at 15 notes top I am met with wild takes, incomprehensible tags, and someone taking personal offense at me having a thought.

[fortythealien]

The only thing he could sense was a splotch of crimson in his sight and the taste of iron in his mouth. His limbs were unresponsive. — He must have died.

The monster swallowed him again, but this time, his enemy is not another person. The imposing armor stayed quiet. He was grappled and imprisoned within those pair of arms. The speaker was the woman with sunglasses.

"Listen, I can always kill you again, otherwise I can't bring you back." Her voice was very gentle, and even the monster inside his body stayed silent to listen to her. "But I don't want to." The woman leaned down and whispered in his ear. It was a deal he couldn't refuse. "What do you people want?" "Is there anything more satisfying than seeing how the undying die? That's what 'he' said."

The giant armor loosened its arms. "Destiny" was ahead, and he will be leaving with them. "Listen, Bladie, loosen up." "Listen, don't think about anything at all." He nodded. The woman walked to his side, smiling. Yet he thought her smile looked very sad. "Maybe someone left her before they could listen to everything she had to say," he thought.

-Blade's Character Story: Part III

I love how tender Kafka and Blade's relationship is.

Pretty much every time Blade's onscreen he's getting hurt, going berserk, bleeding, killing, beating up his ex husband's boyfriend's son, etc...

Except Kafka's companion quest, where he is calm and sedate (and engaging in some very elaborate sensory deprivation/hypnotism kink, which, I'm jealous, but whatever)

ANYWAY. Kafka, known for being a ruthless, borderline sadistic dominatrix, does not have to do all this for him. They could've and should've left the Xianzhou sooner, but she has to stop and make sure Blade's okay. And there's just something about the way she talks about him. She literally cannot feel fear, but there's an intense need to keep him from suffering unnecessarily.

And Blade appreciates it! Most of Blade's party join lines are vaguely annoyed or a little threatening, but when he sees Kafka in the team, he's happy. He's even a little silly! He's excited to kick ass with his best friend!

I think it all boils down to the fact that Blade doesn't trust anything - not his past friends, not his hands, sometimes not even his own mind.. but he trusts Kafka, and I think that's beautiful

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.

{wordcount: 10.4k; ņsfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i wouldn't say this is angst but it does deal with some references to heavy topics; jealous!dazai, depictions of dissociation (dazai), dazai's on the brink of a mental breakdown for a bit in the beginning, references to abuse (dazai. no actual depictions), references to dubcon (dazai. no actual depictions), dazai is wildly intelligent but not so much when it comes to sex & other forms of intimacy (he is quite uneducated in fact), slight oral (male rec), unprotected sex, sub!dazai, dazai and reader argue for a bit (he calls her a whore - doesn't mean it but still says it)}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 😒i hope you guys know im sitting here glaring at my computer because i did not want to post this fic. it's been sitting in my google drive for like AGES and im literally having to physically force myself into formatting this post because i wanted to keep it hoarded forever. anyway, read the warnings for this one pretty pls, this fic is a bit loaded—not exactly angst, but it references some heavy topics. let me know if any warnings are missing as always!

“I’m so sick and tired of him.”

You listen as Chuuya lets out another heavy sigh next to you, pointedly taking a sip of his wine, but you don’t even bother to glance at him as you glare down at your phone. Left on read, again, Dazai ignores your message asking him to meet you and Chuuya at the bar. You slam your phone down on the dark wood of the bar top before reaching for your own glass, taking a large gulp of it before opening your mouth to continue complaining, much to Chuuya’s displeasure.

“I thought things would be different after we talked. He moved back into my apartment but he’s still avoiding me like the fucking plague. I mean Christ, I broke up with my boyfriend, came crawling back to him because I knew he was pissed even though he’d rather kill himself—literally—than admit he likes me. Why the fuck can’t he even given an inch? Meet me halfway?” 

“Because he’s Dazai,” Chuuya says dryly. “What did you expect from him, honestly? … And we all know you weren’t going to stick with that civilian.”

“Oh, shut up,” you tell him bitterly. “That’s not the point. The point is I did, and I went right to him, and we talked, and he acted like everything was fine, and now he’s pulling this shit. How is he going to live in my fucking apartment and avoid me at every corner? And whenever I do manage to catch him, he makes up some bullshit excuse about a mission I know he doesn’t have and disappears.”

You lean back in your chair, brows furrowed and fingers curled around your glass. By now, all of the people that had been sitting near the two of you at the bar have dispersed to the dancefloor—if your arrival with Chuuya hadn’t been enough to send them scattering, your foul mood was more than enough to make them give you a wide berth.

“I’m frustrated,” you finally hiss. “I’m just frustrated, am I allowed to be frustrated, Chuuya?”

Chuuya side-eyes you. “Stop fuckin’ complaining to me about it and do something about it, jeez,” he says, hand sliding into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he fumbles for a lighter to light it.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” you ask, becoming increasingly more irritated as you pull out your own lighter to light it for him. “I tried talking to him, now he’s ignoring me.”

Chuuya has the audacity to roll his eyes, looking at you with an unimpressed expression that makes you want to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on his skin. As if he can hear your thoughts, he leans back, giving you a suspicious look.

“I’m not talking about that shithead,” Chuuya drawls. “If you’re so frustrated, go find some sorry bastard to fuck it out of you. We both know that’s all it takes to get you to settle down.”

“Fuck you,” you say instantly, not appreciating how he acts like you’re a nympho. But already, your gaze is carding across the room, trying to see if someone catches your eye. When you find yourself disappointed, you look back at him and ask, “You offering yourself up?”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no,” he tells you instantly. “No way. Don’t even say that shit to me.”

You’re almost offended, squinting at him and leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Like old times. You know what I like, I know what you like, we can make a good night out of it,” you propose as you lean your elbow on the bartop and observe him.

“Because shitty Dazai will never let me hear the end of it if he finds out,” Chuuya says pointedly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Bastard is annoying as is, if he finds out I’ve slept with you? It’d be the end of the world.”

“You have slept with me though, Chuuya,” you taunt. “Who’s to say I won’t tell him anyway?”

You won’t, but you like the way Chuuya’s lip curls up in irritation around his cigarette.

“Go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll tell him all about that time in Osaka.”

You gasp, scandalized. “Chuuya,” you hiss. “You would not. You swore.”

“Try me,” Chuuya says, raising his eyebrows at you, looking all too smug as you flounder for a response.

Humbled, and a bit mortified, you return to looking around the club, lowering your standards this time. You spot a blonde standing in the corner of the club, eyes flitting around curiously as he observes the people on the dancefloor, and a redhead laughing wildly as she spins with a drink in hand, teetering off to the edge of the floor. You purse your lips.

“No one is catching my attention,” you complain, sinking back down in your seat.

You decidedly don’t like the smirk that edges onto his lips as he looks at you, and it’s for good reason, because the next words out of his mouth have your eye twitching: “You’re that down bad for him already? Jesus.”

“I am not,” you spit out, glaring at him before pointedly returning to your hunt, looking around more intensely this time. 

But even as you do that, you start to wonder if that’s why no one is standing out to you tonight. How the fuck is anyone supposed to compare to Dazai Osamu? The thought is ridiculous—you don’t want to tug at blonde hair to pull someone down into a kiss, you don’t want a head of tousled red locks buried between your thighs, there’s only one person you actually want in your bed and he’s been avoiding you since you talked things out with him.

You let out a heavy sigh, considering just admitting defeat, but then your eyes drift to a tall, dark haired man entering the club, making his way over to the bar; his hair is a bit too long and a bit too straight, and his eyes aren’t the right shade, but they’re sharp enough and you’re tipsy enough to willfully confuse them for the familiar brown you desire.

“Nevermind,” you breathe out. Chuuya doesn’t even spare you a goodbye as you slip from your seat to make your way over to the man, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. “I found someone.”

Chuuya was right.

You think maybe you should stop doubting him as much as you do. This is not the first time that you’ve fought him tooth and nail about something only for him to be proven right in the end. But you’re not going to tell him that because he has a big enough ego and you’re not going to feed into it.

Dealing with Dazai’s fickleness the past two weeks has been much easier now that you’re fucking out your frustrations with strangers as soon as he’s gone for the night on whatever mission Mori assigns him. You take his aloofness in stride, ignoring the way he blows you off and avoids you in your own home. You think it’s bothering him, actually, because now when you walk past him without a second glance, you can see the way he hesitates from the corner of your eye, an indecipherable expression crossing over his face.

Good, you think. You hope he feels like shit. 

You let out a soft breath as you tilt your head to the side, giving the man you’re with better access. From the corner of your eye, with the tousled brown hair, you can almost pretend it’s him, but you know it’s not. His hair isn’t as soft as Dazai’s, who all but hijacked your expensive shampoos and conditioners, and you can’t feel the bandages that should be tucked beneath the tufts of hair. Your mind starts to drift, comparing how you think Dazai’s touch would be to this man’s. When you first kissed him, he was unsure and hesitant, would he still be now? Or has he grown more confident? You think he must’ve, you’ve seen him with people during events, lips tilted up in a sensual smile, lashes fluttering as he leads them into one of the backrooms. 

Sick and unfair, you think to yourself bitterly.

You let out a heavy, disappointed sigh.

“You good?” the man asks—you don’t remember his name, you don’t even know if you cared to ask. His voice is distinctly different from Dazai’s low hum whenever he teases you, a total immersion-break from your desired reality.

You roll your eyes, irritated. “Don’t speak.”

The man lets out a noise of agreement, fingers biting a bit harder into your waist as he continues kissing down your neck. You don’t really mind, the sting is nice, just enough force to draw your mind away from Dazai. The sigh you let out is more pleased now, eyes slipping shut as his hands slide up your body, kisses trailing down your neck to your collarbone. His lips are too soft; Dazai’s are horribly chapped no matter how much chapstick you force on him.

Dazai is out on another “mission”. You don’t even know if it’s a real mission or if he’s just claiming it’s a mission so he doesn’t have to stick around the apartment while you’re there, lowering the chances of running into you. For all you know, he’s just going back to that shitty shipping container he spent a year in and hanging out there until you leave for one of your own missions or a meeting. He looked particularly sullen as he left earlier, casting looks back to where you’d disappeared into the kitchen, not realizing you could still see him before he finally left your apartment. 

He’s such a pain in the ass, you think, getting irate again as he drifts back into your thoughts. He makes everything so difficult, things would be so much easier he just admitted that he wanted to be with you. You really don’t know how much more of this back and forth, wishy-washy shit you can take from him. You care about Dazai. You do. Probably more than anyone else in your life and you’re sick of him taking it for granted. 

You hum in approval when the man lifts his hands to your button-up, hesitating as he waits for your consent, and your gaze flicks up to the ceiling as he continues kissing down the revealed skin; from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, between your breasts, he unbuttons all the way to your navel.

You find yourself a bit bored, counting the specks on the ceiling, taking note of the crack that you’re sure is somehow Dazai’s fault. You think there must only be two more buttons left for him to undo before you can slide the shirt off of your shoulders but you start to feel uncomfortable under his touch, you feel prickly and his lips trailing down your body makes your skin crawl.

“Off,” you finally say, voice sharp. You press your hand against his shoulder to push him off of you, sitting up straight to sit properly on the couch. You scowl as you fumble through your pants pockets to find a cigarette.

This is Dazai’s fault somehow.

“Did I do something wrong?” the man asks hesitantly, trying to shift closer to you again. “I-”

“No,” you say bluntly, lighting the cigarette and lifting it to your lips. “Get out of my apartment.”

The man hesitates, you can feel his eyes lingering on you and you’re becoming increasingly more irritated, shooting him a glare from the corner of your eye until he finally rises to his feet, buttoning his shirt as he makes his way over to the elevator. You slump back against the couch, sighing as you look up at the ceiling and take a long drag from your cigarette.

Dazai’s fault. As soon as he crossed your mind, your whole demeanor had changed and you try to convince yourself that it’s because you just don’t know what his issue is. You don’t know why he’s avoiding you, you don’t know what changed after you met with him at the bar; you thought things would be good between the two of you. You thought you’d be able to be with him now that nothing’s left in your way but evidently there still is something preventing the two of you from being together and it’s something that Dazai is not sharing with you.

Bastard, you think bitterly, about to pull out your phone to send Chuuya a very irritated and very foul message about Dazai but before you can, the elevator leading up to your floor bings and you look up to watch the man you’d invited over leave.

Except as the doors slide open, you realize that someone is already standing in there.

You sit up straight when you see Dazai standing in the elevator, black gaze trained right on the man leaving your apartment. His movements are almost robotic as he steps out of the elevator, his head twisting to follow the man as he steps in the elevator. He looks distinctly unnerved as Dazai’s soulless gaze tracking him until the elevator doors slide back shut.

It’s only then that Dazai only turns to look at you. His face is eerily void of emotion as he looks at you, gaze dipping down to your unbuttoned shirt and the light bruises blooming on your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, wondering if he’s going to say something, but he only stands there staring at you.

“I thought you had a mission,” you finally say, leaning forward to put your cigarette out on the ashtray on the coffee table to button up your shirt half way so you’re not nearly undressed. When you finish, you pick up your glass of wine and take a sip. “You’re back early.” 

“I finished early,” Dazai replies, monotonic. 

He doesn’t budge from where he’s standing, limbs stiff and face blank. You glance down, noticing that he’s holding something in his right hand—a bag, takeout, maybe? Looks like it’s from that place in Hodogaya-ku that you like. 

“What’s that?” you ask, nodding toward the bag. Dazai follows your gaze down to it, staring at it as if he doesn’t even know what it is. You frown, becoming a bit concerned as you rise to your feet. “Dazai, you good?”

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave the bag for a second; after what feels like an eternity, he finally looks back up at you but he doesn’t even seem to be looking at you, rather it feels like he’s looking through you like you’re not even there.

“I got food,” he says blankly.

Your eyes widen a bit, wondering if this is meant to be his apology for being an asshole the past few weeks. Dazai never apologizes—he disappears until he can act like nothing happened or he does something to make up for what he did, but he doesn’t ever acknowledge what he did. It’s frustrating, but you’ve gotten used to his quirks over the years. You’d been wondering why he seemed so melancholic before he left.

You nod at the spot next to you on the couch, accepting the apology and sitting back down. “I’ll put on a movie.”

Dazai looks at the spot like it’s been poisoned, expression finally twisting from the emptiness into one of disgust.

“What?” you demand, offended.

Dazai doesn’t even respond to you; you can only stare in disbelief as he turns on his heel and walks in the direction of the kitchen. You don’t budge for a second, staring in shock to where he disappeared to, but after a few moments, you force yourself up to your feet and follow after him.

Your mind races as you make your way down the short hall into the kitchen, standing in the door frame as you watch him put the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter, pulling the different containers out of the bag and then opening the fridge. His movements are stiff and abrupt, almost robotic, and your irritation slips away when you see the expression on his face.

Closed-off. Withdrawn. Very reminiscent of the look on his face from that time he came back to your apartment after a mission that went wrong post-Dragon’s head Conflict, right before he had his first breakdown in front of you. He’d been trying to hold it all back, desperate to not lose control in front of you, but it was to no avail because it only made it worse.

“Dazai, what’s wrong?” you ask carefully as he stuffs another container into the fridge, so roughly that the plastic almost snaps. “Dazai-”

“Nothing,” Dazai responds sharply, voice cold and cutting but the way he takes in a sharp, shaky breath betrays him. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing.”

“Okay, that’s a lie,” you say flatly, sighing to yourself. “Can you just-”

“You’re the liar,” Dazai cuts you off, voice shrill and defensive in a way you’ve never heard from him before. Something crosses his face: a weird mixture of panic, anger and distress, like he knows he’s losing control of his emotions but he can’t stop himself. You don’t usually have such a hard time reading Dazai—it’s difficult, yes, but not as impossible as it currently is. It’s stressing you out because you don’t know what’s wrong and he’s clearly working himself up more over it. “You’re the liar. You’re the liar.”

Your eye twitches. Three breaths in and three breaths out. Now’s really not the time for you to lose your temper on him considering he’s on the brink of a mental breakdown for whatever reason. But you’re pissed, you don’t know why he’s calling you a liar and you don’t know what is going on, and you don’t want to deal with this especially after he just spent weeks ignoring and avoiding you.

“What did I lie about, Dazai?” you ask tightly, nails digging into your palms as you wait for a response. “Please, enlighten me.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tightening as he resumes tossing the food into the fridge.

“Dazai, stop,” you tell him, taking a step forward when he finally gets to the bottom of the takeout bag and slams the fridge shut so hard that it rattles. He grabs the empty bag and is about to storm over to the garbage can but before he can, you reach forward and grab his wrist, stopping him. “Will you fucking talk to me?”

“Let go,” Dazai hisses, trying to rip his arm from your hold but your fingers are too tight around his wrist, his bandages rough against the pads of your fingers—you don’t know why he’s still using those old scratchy ones when you stocked up with the softer ones but it only serves to irritate you more because why are you going out of your way to do nice things for him if he’s just going to toss it to the side? “Let go of me.”

“Tell me what your issue is,” you demand. “I’m done playing games with you, Dazai. Grow the fuck up and communicate.”

Dazai’s eye is wide and wild, looking far too much like a cornered animal as he bares his teeth at you and tries to yank out of your hold on him again. “My issue is that you’re a whore,” he spits out. “Let go of me. Now.”

You let go of him.

Instantly, the anger in Dazai’s face fizzles away. His eye is just as wide but his expression is lax, lips parted as if he’s only now just registering what he said. And you know he regrets it, you know that Dazai lashes out when he feels cornered; he becomes cruel and vicious, desperate in his attempts to protect himself when he feels vulnerable and since Dazai is Dazai, he knows how to hurt people. Knows exactly where the chinks in your armor are, drives the dagger in deep and twists it.

But even knowing this, it still hurts hearing that from him of all people.

“Okay.”

Your voice is quiet, you don’t even waste a second before turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait,” Dazai calls after you, voice wavering. “Wait, I didn’t…”

He can’t even finish the sentence because Dazai is Dazai and he doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t admit his wrongs. Doesn’t admit that he lost control and said something he didn’t mean to say. Would rather preserve his false visage of control than do anything like that.

“Where are you going?” Dazai asks and you can hear him trailing after you, words drawn long and shaky. “Hey, wait-”

You don’t know where you’re going. Leaving your apartment, you think, considering your feet are moving right to the elevator, but once you leave the building? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ll head over to Chuuya’s and crash at his apartment for the night, maybe you’ll go get shit-faced at a bar. You don’t really care, you just don’t want to be anywhere near Dazai right now. He’s put you through enough the past few weeks for you to stand here and take this shit from him. 

“I don’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice cold and sharp. “Maybe I’ll go find that guy I kicked out and finish the job if I’m such a whore.”

Dazai inhales sharply from behind you. “What?” he breathes out. “No. No. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” you scoff, not even looking back at him. “Didn’t mean it? You can’t even bring yourself to say it, Dazai. Clearly you did.”

That’s not true, you know it’s only Dazai’s pride that prevents him from forcing those words out, but you know it makes him flinch and you know it makes him hesitate. You also know how to target chinks in armor.

“No,” Dazai tries again, more insistent this time. You can hear him speeding up behind you when he realizes you’re going for the elevator. “No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t-I don’t get you. I don’t get this. I don’t get any of this.”

He sounds confused, borderline distressed—you don’t even know what he’s talking about, what he’s so confused and distressed about. How could you? He never explains anything to you, never communicates.

“You don’t get what?” you demand, reaching out for the button of the elevator but Dazai lunges forward to grab your wrist before you can. You finally turn to look at him, catching the way his jaw is tight and the strange emotion swimming in his eye. “You don’t get what, Dazai? Spit it out.”

“Why are you still sleeping with other people?” he asks, voice hitching. “You have me. You don’t need anyone else.”

You can’t help yourself—you laugh in Dazai’s face.

“No way,” you say immediately.

You don’t mean it in the way it comes out. You know it comes out as if you’re saying you’d never sleep with him, but you’re more so saying no way because you can’t believe he has the audacity to say this to you after he just spent weeks avoiding and ignoring you. 

Is this what his issue is? He doesn’t know how to cope with emotions so he evades and lashes out and just expects you to stick around waiting until he grows up? Fuck him. You deserve better than that, you waited long enough, you thought you were done with these games with him.

You don’t miss the way Dazai’s expression crumbles at your words, the way he stares at you, lips parted in disbelief. You don’t correct yourself, a part of you is happy that you can get your own knife in even if you do know you’ll regret it later. 

“What do you mean no?” Dazai’s voice wobbles a bit before he takes half a step back. His fingers are weak around your wrist but he doesn’t let go, feels a lot like a child clinging to their parent’s shirt. “What-I-I’m here. You want it, you were just going to-”

Not that that’s even the issue anymore, but you’re definitely not in the mood now. Honestly, you just want to go to bed. Your head hurts and Dazai is stressing you out and pissing you off all at the same time, plus you have no interest in fucking him when he seems like he’s on the verge of a mental break anyway.

“No, I don’t. I changed my mind,” you say, frustrated. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai replies, voice pitched and tinged with something too close to desperation. “No. You want me and I’m here, so you should-”

God, what the fuck is your life? You’re so frustrated that you want to pull your hair out and scream at him.

“Enough, Dazai.” You raise your voice at him. “Enough. I don’t want you. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai insists and your eyes widen when you feel his grip tighten on your wrist.

“Daz-” You start to say but you can’t even finish his name, cut off by his other hand finding its way to your hip, pressing you back against the closed doors of the elevator as he dips his head down to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your protest before you can even get it out. 

You think absently that you were right earlier when you were letting your thoughts wander to what kissing Dazai would be like. He’s no longer unsure and hesitant with his touches, his lips slide against yours with the expertise of someone who’s spent a lifetime kissing. The hand on your hip slides up your body so that he can hold your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. And you shouldn’t be indulging this, you know that—Dazai pissed you off, he has some nerve calling you a whore and then whoring himself out to you—but his lips are intoxicating, you can hardly think straight with them pressed against yours. 

He has your right hand pinned to the metal behind you, fingers curled tight around your wrist as he holds you in place. The way he kisses you is familiar, almost, and your brows furrow as you try to figure out why until feel his fingers brush through your hair, slow and lingering, dizzying, right before his tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip—a pattern of actions that you usually take to make your partners more malleable. 

Did he teach himself this just by observing the way you act with people at events?

You don’t fall for your own tricks though, so instead, your free hand drops to his waist, fingers slipping through his belt loops as you press into him, pushing off the elevator to walk him backwards down the hall to his bedroom. He lets out a surprised noise in the back of his throat, letting you walk him back; his fingers fall from where they’d been around your wrist and you take the opportunity to hook yours around his other belt loop, keeping his body flush to yours until you have his back pressed against his bedroom door.

You notice, a bit absently, that Dazai is a lot more pliant now with you in control. His hands are loose at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them—much like when you shared his first kiss with him—and he still kisses you back, lips moving slowly against yours, but it’s not with the intensity he had when you were pinned to the elevator door.

Strange.

You think kissing Dazai is a lot like a drug, one that you got your first hit of two years ago when you offered to be his first kiss but then never had another chance to get another taste of. You were bitter when he first started following in yours and Chuuya’s footsteps in taking people to bed to unwittingly ease information out of them—you’d find yourself watching him like a hawk as he drew people into secluded corners, as he pressed his lips against theirs and let their hands explore his body. You’d hardly be able to draw your eyes away once, not until he eventually led them out of the area to a bedroom.

You hated it. Truly. You like to tell yourself that you’re not jealous but you know it’s a blatant lie. As much as people would sell their souls to spend a night with you, they’d be just as desperate for one with Dazai because Dazai is Dazai. He’s untouchable. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. The youngest executive in history. He can be smooth and charming, yes, and he’s undoubtedly handsome. But more than that, he’s dark and unfathomable in a way that piques peoples’ interest in a sick and perverted fashion—they want to know what he’s like behind closed doors, they’re terrified of him but they want him, be it because of morbid curiosity or sheer lust.

And you hated that other people got to be with him in ways you couldn’t. Your only consolation seems to be that he had his eyes on you as much as you had yours on him, seeing how he’s pretty much perfectly mimicking the way you kiss and touch people, but you don’t know if that’s just because he was trying to learn through observing you—as he does with everyone—or if he hated watching you with other people just as much-

Oh.

Oh, you’re so stupid.

“You were jealous,” you realize, understanding what had triggered Dazai’s meltdown with the takeout food and insults toward you. Dazai stiffens against the door and you take the opportunity to trail your lips from his down to his jaw. “You were jealous over the guy I had over.”

“No-”

“You were.” You don’t even let him finish the protest, nipping at the spot beneath his ear gently and watching how he shudders. “How cute.”

“It’s not cute.” Dazai bristles. “You-you weren’t supposed-you’re not supposed to keep seeing people. I thought you were done with that. I thought we were-”

“We were what?” you ask coolly. “You avoided me for weeks after we talked, Dazai. Whatever we may or may not have been after we talked at the bar, it’s nothing when you start actively ignoring me for weeks after that.”

“But-”

You’re getting irritated again. “Dazai, you ignored me for weeks. I was pissed off and frustrated. And when I’m pissed off and frustrated, if I don’t have some way to relieve my stress, I do something stupid. Something stupid like putting a bullet in you the next time you stepped into my apartment after actively going out of your way to avoid me.”

“I was going out to get food,” Dazai says sullenly as if you were supposed to know that. “So we could watch a movie.”

“Last I recall, telepathy isn’t exactly part of my ability, Dazai,” you say dryly, calming yourself down by leaning in to brush your lips against his again.

A drug, you think again as the anger melts away when you feel his breath hitch against your lips. You reach behind him to open his bedroom door, guiding him in as you kiss him slowly. He’s fumbling again, unsure what to do with his fingers, clumsily moving his lips against yours until the back of his knees hits the bed, and he goes flopping down back on it. 

You snort at the surprised look on his face, joining him on the bed as you straddle his hips. You hover over him for a second before leaning down to give him another chaste kiss, enjoying the way he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.

“Tell me why you were avoiding me,” you say quietly as you lift a hand to cup his cheek. 

A foul move, you know. Dazai is always weak to gentle touches as much as he tries to pretend otherwise. You’ve noticed it when you watch movies with him and when he curls into bed with you on nights he can’t sleep. Just as you expect, he leans into your touch, lashes fluttering.

“Dazai,” you urge, “tell me why. What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, you think bitterly, but you figure taking responsibility will be the easiest way to get him talking. You’ll fight about it later.

Dazai, to your surprise, turns his face away from you and your touch, a faraway look in his eye as he stares at the wall.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says. “I just didn’t-”

He cuts himself as if he can’t even bring himself to say it, and you know you have to do something because he seems to be withdrawing even more into his own head, eyes growing more distant with each passing second. You turn his head so that he’s facing you again and you lean down to press your lips briefly against his.

“You didn’t what?” you ask him.

Dazai still looks like he doesn’t want to answer, conflict spreading across his face as he stares up at you before he sighs and averts his gaze. “I don’t understand any of this. I didn’t want to disappoint,” he says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your brows furrow. 

“Disappoint?” you question, a bit baffled. Dazai has a complex about failure. You know that too, have known it since you were sixteen. He can’t handle it, nothing makes him spiral quite like the idea of failure—you and he are quite similar in that regard—but you don’t understand what he means in this context. “Disappoint with what?”

Dazai doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet your eyes either, and your mind races to figure out what he might be referring to. You recall how he became hesitant and unsure when you finally took control, fingers twitching at his sides, body pliant as you moved him around, almost like a doll for you to maneuver as you pleased.

“Disappoint with this?” you finally realize, watching as he grimaces, confirming your suspicions. Your chest drops. “You avoided me because… you didn’t want to have sex?”

That makes you feel a bit sick to your stomach because what does he think of you if he went to this length to avoid you just because… Dazai’s entire body jolts at your words as if realizing how they came across.

“No,” he pushes out instantly. His hands dart out to cling to your shirt as if he’s worried you’re going to leave. “No, no. I want to. I do. Not just this… just in general. Everything. Me… This is just one part of it… the easiest to make mistakes with. I don’t like making mistakes.”

It’s only mildly reassuring.

“Dazai…” You start to say, pulling away, but his hands dart up to grab your waist so he can hold you in place on top of him. You think maybe the two of you need to talk. Again. “I just, I don’t understand.”

“I want this,” he repeats again, hands sliding down from your waist to curl his fingers around the hem of your shirt. He sees that you’re not convinced by his words so he pushes out a “Please” that nearly stops you in your tracks because you don’t think Dazai Osamu has ever begged for anything in his life.

You lean down to press your lips against his again. You set the pace this time, lifting your hand to cup his cheek—you pull the same move that he tried with you, nails gently scraping his scalp as you brush your fingers through his hair. Dazai melts into it in a way that you didn’t, lashes fluttering and lips parting instinctively, letting you deepen the kiss. Dazai’s breath catches as you push your tongue into his mouth, shivering when you trace the back of his teeth. 

Too pliant. All of the confidence he had earlier when he had you pinned to the elevator is gone. His breath wavers against your lips, and his fingers tremble as he grips at the hem of your button-up. Not a firm grip like you’d have anticipated, with his fingers digging into the plush skin of your hips as he grinds you down on his cock; instead, his fingers are clinging to the fabric as if he’s too overwhelmed to even think of grabbing your body.

“Tell me what you like,” you say quietly, fingers still absently carding through his dark locks as you kiss down his neck. Your other hand slips beneath his dress shirt, smoothing out over the bandages wrapped around his torso. “I want to know, wanna make you feel good.”

Dazai’s lips part to respond to you, but the only thing that escapes them is a pitched gasp—high and cracking in desperation, grip on your shirt so tight that you think he might rip it. He’s already hard, can feel his cock straining against his black pants, pressed against your thigh.

“I don’t-” Dazai’s voice is ragged; he sounds overwhelmed, almost confused. “I don’t know.”

“Hm?” you prod, nipping his neck and relishing in the way his whole body shudders at the feeling. “C’mon, Dazai, you’ve done this before. Tell me what you like.”

His gasp is choked when your hand tightens on his slim waist, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. More pliant and more sensitive, you note curiously, kissing back up his neck to tug at his earlobe with your teeth, a shiver running down your spine at the broken moan Dazai lets out into your ear. He jolts, eyes widening and face flushing—he looks as if he’s startled himself by the noise that escaped his lips, and you start to become a bit suspicious.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, sounding confused and frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s never felt like this before. How are you doing that?”

You pause.

You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, pulling your face back from his ear to look at him carefully because why is he acting like he’s never done this before? You know he’s slept around a lot. He picked it up over half a year ago when he got tired of hearing you and Chuuya brag about how easy it is to get things out of people like this. Made a point of making sure you knew about it when you had your boyfriend.

It’s never felt like this before.

Your chest swirls, and you feel a bit disconcerted as his words finally process. It’s never felt like what? Dazai doesn’t know why you’ve stopped, you can feel him tugging at your shirt, hazy eyes trying to focus on you. You wonder if the gears in his head are turning, realizing something might be wrong but unable to pinpoint what.

You kiss him to distract him, deeper this time. You press his head back against the soft pillow, one hand sliding to cradle the back of it as you try to break all of the quick-moving cogs in his brain so you can think in peace, cursing the fact that his mind has always been quicker and sharper than yours.

Dazai is Dazai. He’s smooth, charming—when he wants to, he could seduce anyone into his bed. You’ve watched him do it at events, sidling up close and leaning in to speak to people, dark eye lidded and voice low, a slow smirk curling at his lip as he brushes his finger lightly against the target’s lower back before guiding them out of the room. Christ, he’s nearly flustered you on more than one account. You want to say that he’s not the same kid who was nervous to kiss you two years ago, but he clearly is with how he’s reacting to your kisses and touches right now. But he shouldn’t be—maybe it’s because it’s you he’s with, maybe he’s just nervous because it’s you and not some random person he’s seducing for information.

But that doesn't explain the comment. Doesn’t explain it’s never felt like this before. 

“Never felt like what?” you ask as you kiss the corner of his lips and down his jaw again, all the way to the line of bandages peeking out from his dress shirt. You undo the first few buttons, watching the way his chest rapidly rises and falls under your touch as you smooth your hands over his chest. “Hm?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Dazai says, voice cracking and another breathy sound spilling from his lips as you kiss the underside of his jaw. “It’s just-it’s usually just-it’s not this.”

That doesn’t help you at all, you think. You’re about to press, but your lips on his skin have evidently made Dazai’s lips looser than they typically are because you don’t even have to voice a clarifying question to get him talking again.

“The way you’re touching me. Kissing me. It’s not like this, doesn’t feel so good,” he continues and you can hear the whine building in the back of his throat as he speaks. “It’s just sex.”

You slide his button-up off of his shoulders, revealing his bandaged body to you. You don’t make any move to remove them, but now you stare down at him, a bit perplexed. “This is sex,” you say, voice a bit stunted because you didn’t expect him to say that.

“No,” Dazai says, seemingly equally perplexed by your words, drawn out of the haze of pleasure into a more confused state. “Sex is sex. It’s penetrative.” 

“... Sex isn’t just penetrative, Dazai,” you say, baffled. “This is sex. It’s foreplay.”

Dazai stares at you like he doesn’t even know what that word means.

Oh, you realize, heart sinking as you realize why Dazai is so thrown off by all of this. How has he had sex without foreplay? Sex without foreplay is… it’s boring, not enjoyable at all. More animalistic than anything, borderline painful half of the time. Is that what he’s been doing with all of the people he seduces for information? The thought is a bit jarring, but the more you think about it, the more you think it might make sense. 

Dazai is prodigious when he’s given something that he can study and mimic; can execute flawless imitations of the behaviors he’s trying to learn. He learned the art of leadership from observing Mori. The art of war from observing the Colonel’s operations before his death. Adaptability from observing Kouyou during missions. Business from observing Ace’s meetings and transactions. Seduction from observing you interacting with people during events. Dazai is as terrifying as he is because he’s a perfect amalgamation of the entire upper echelon’s best skill sets. He’s adopted Mori’s mannerisms, the Colonel's strategic capability, Kouyou’s ability to adapt to any situation, Ace’s shrewdness with yen, and your charisma. 

If there’s something he can observe, he can mirror it to near perfection.

So, is it really that surprising to you that the front he puts up during events is just an imitation of how you act with people? That it doesn’t translate behind closed doors? That he had nothing to study and nothing to mimic once seduction progressed to the bedroom, so he let whoever he was with take the lead to try to learn from them in the moment? 

That maybe someone would use his ignorance on the subject against him?

Dazai is Dazai, you think, for the fifth time tonight. He doesn’t watch porn, he doesn’t ask people for help, and this isn’t something Mori would have ever taught him—you know that better than anyone. Mori sheltered Dazai from everything, even tried to keep you away from him; he didn’t want anything or anyone to taint the control he had over his precious Demon Prodigy. While you and Chuuya have had the chance to live, experiencing life and the outside world, Dazai’s been stuck under the watchful eye of the boss, hardly ever out of arm’s reach, caged like a circus animal to be put on display whenever Mori sees fit.  

Of course, Dazai would only see it as another way to get the job done, disregarding his own comfort and pleasure—because when does Dazai Osamu ever care for his own comfort and pleasure? He lived in a fucking shipping container until you dragged him out of it. It’s not a thought that casually crosses his mind, and he wouldn’t think twice once he thinks he has an idea of what’s going on. He doesn’t see things the way you do, was never given the opportunity to understand, taught by Mori to see things as tools and means to an end, even himself.

Dazai can see your mind racing. You know he’s going to put together that something is wrong soon if you don’t move on from this. But it’s hard—it’s a bit fucking jarring to realize that Dazai’s so overwhelmed by your touch because every other time he’s had sex, he’s probably been uncomfortable or even in pain. 

You lean down to kiss him again, halting his thoughts. You place two chaste kisses on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently before kissing his cheek down to his jaw.

“What all have you done with people?” you ask him, sitting back on his thighs, lacing your fingers with his as you look down at him.

Instantly, his face is on fire. “What does it matter?” he demands, but you can feel his fingers tightening around yours.

You roll your eyes at his obstinateness. “Humor me,” you say dryly. “Are you usually the one leading, or is your partner? Are you the one penetrating or-”

Dazai’s grip on your hands becomes almost painful, so you quiet down, giving him an amused look. Maybe it's an awkward subject, but you want to have a vague idea of what he’s been doing before you do anything.

“... partner is,” he finally tells you, hardly looking you in the eye. It’s kind of cute. “... and only when it’s a woman, but she still takes the lead.”

“Do you want to take the lead tonight?” you ask him, running your thumb over his knuckles to try to get him to loosen his grip. 

He does, but only barely.

“Not tonight,” he says after a few moments.

“Not tonight,” you agree. “Did you prefer topping or bottoming?” 

Dazai thinks for a moment and then says, “Topping. Bottoming was…”

You force yourself not to wince, suspicions confirmed by the way he trails off.

You hum, sliding your hands up and down his bandaged sides soothingly, enjoying the way he slowly relaxes beneath your touch. “That can feel good, too,” you tell him. “I can show you that one day if you’d like.”

Dazai’s brows furrow, pointedly looking down at your clothed lower half as if trying to see through them. Your lips quirk up as he says, “But you don’t have a-”

“There are ways to work around that,” you snort, hands finally resting at his hips, drawing circles over his protruding hip bones. 

“… Not tonight,” he finally repeats.

“Not tonight,” you agree again.

You lift your hands back to his cheeks, holding his face between them as you kiss him again. You kiss him deeper this time, rolling your hips against his to make his breath hitch. You drag the tip of your tongue against the roof of his mouth—he tastes like cigarettes and faintly of whiskey. Tastes familiar. Like home.

You think you could kiss Dazai forever and never find yourself sick of it. Kissing him is like a drug, you think again. Kissing him gives you butterflies in a way that you’ve only ever experienced with him when you were sixteen, and giving him his first kiss. 

Kissing him is like coming home after being away for years. 

He kisses you back clumsily, all of the finesse he had earlier in the night long gone. His teeth nearly knock against yours, it’s a bit too wet and a bit too messy, but you think it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. You smile against his lips before pulling away to kiss the corner of his lips, nipping his skin when he lets out a shaky breath against your ear.

Your hands slide down his body to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping beneath before you look up at him questioningly. “Can I?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.

“How else are we going to do this?” Dazai counters petulantly.

Brat, you think to yourself, a bit fondly. Thoughts race through your mind but you push them away—maybe another night. You don’t respond to him, raising your eyebrows and waiting for a verbal response.

His cheeks dust pink as he says, “Yes.”

You work quickly to unbutton his pants, patting his thigh so he lifts his hips. You trail kisses down his bandaged chest as you slide off his pants. He’s very responsive to your touch, each kiss makes his breath stutter, you can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls and it only makes you want to watch him fall apart more.

“Are the bandages okay?” Dazai asks after a few moments when you kiss down to his navel. You look up at him, brows furrowed, catching the hesitant expression on his face, dark eye trained on you. “Do you want them off?”

“Do you want them off?” you throw back at him, squinting up at him.

Dazai stares at you for a moment before he shakes his head, a strange expression on his face—you wonder if he was worried you’d ask him to take them off, wonder if his other partners made comments about it, pushed him to remove them. 

You wonder if it’s part of the reason why he avoided you for so long: he wasn’t ready for you to see him without them but thought you would ask him to take them off.

You leave it at that though, returning to kissing down to his hip bone, nipping the skin there and watching how his body jerks a bit in surprise. You let out a puff of laughter against his skin before you ease his briefs off, freeing his cock from where it was straining against the cloth—the soft ones you’d bought him when you’d found his rough, tattered ones in your washing machine a few months after he first moved into your apartment. 

You don’t usually find cocks pretty—they all mostly look the same—but Dazai’s is. Long, not too thick, his tip is flushed a pretty pink color and a vein runs along the underside. He’s leaky too, precum drips down from his tip, right along that vein and you want to taste him, so you do.

You lean in to press your lips against his length, sucking gently on the vein before kissing up to his tip. A bit too salty for your taste, probably because of his shitty diet, but you don’t mind because the pitched moan that tumbles from his lips makes up for the taste entirely. You peek up, breath catching at the sight of his head tossed back against the pillow, swollen lips parted in a pretty moan and long lashes fluttering. He looks stunning, you wish you could take a picture—maybe another night.

You think all of his previous partners have severely missed out.

“Ah,” he gasps. “Shit, shit-”

Even with just your lips wrapped around his tip, you can feel Dazai’s cock twitching in your mouth—you wonder if he’s already on the edge. You can see the way his abdomen is spasming beneath the bandages, how his fingers are curling around the soft sheets beneath him. You don’t want him to finish yet, you want him inside you when he cums, so you only spare a few chaste kisses trailing up and down his length before sitting up straight again. 

Immediately, he tosses you an accusing look. Bottom lip pushed out, cheeks flushed the same pretty pink as his tip. “Why-”

You silence him by pressing your lips against his. This kiss is lewder than your last, you push the bit of precum you’d gathered on your tongue into his mouth as you unbutton your own slacks. He makes a noise into your mouth but you don’t pull away until you feel him swallow. You smile against his lips before you pull back to slip off your own pants, watching his face twist.

“Yuck,” he says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Tastes bad.”

“Have been telling you to start eating more fruits and vegetables,” you tell him, flicking his thigh as you shimmy out of your slacks and toss them to the side. “You don’t listen.”

The smile he tosses up at you is familiar, a welcome change from the distress and confusion that’s been plaguing him most of the night. “You’ve been thinking about what my cum tastes like for that long? Pervert.”

“More like I’ve been thinking about how high your cholesterol must be with how much canned crab and buttered bread you eat,” you say dryly, returning to where you’d been straddling his waist.

You lift your hands up, beckoning him to take them. He does, reaching up to lace his fingers with yours. A smile curves at your lips as you lean over him, pinning his hands to the mattress on either side of his head as you kiss him again. 

Your chest feels light in a way that it hardly ever does when you’re fucking someone, fluttering in the same way it was when you first kissed him two years ago. Usually when you’re sleeping with someone, it’s all about keeping up appearances. Flirty, sensual, seductive, you’re always more focused on the task at hand than you are enjoying yourself, this is… different. You mean, it always feels good—you know how to make sure it feels good for you while getting the job done—but this…

Feels like home, you think again. Being with Dazai feels like home and it scares you a bit because he’s so flighty and unpredictable but you push away the fear to kiss him harder. You have him now, that’s what matters.

“I like canned crab and buttered bread.” Dazai pouts as he mumbles against your lips.

“Shut up,” you tell him.

You feel him smile and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say so you cut him off by reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. Instantly, he chokes over a moan and your lashes flutter, feeling him slide between your folds. 

Shit, you hadn’t even realized how wet you were, too caught up in trying to make sure Dazai was feeling good, but now with the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed against your clit and his length firm against your core, your abdomen feels all hot and tight, head fuzzy.

You keep your forehead pressed to his, noses nudging, sharing the same sliver of air as you roll your hips, letting out a soft moan against his lips when his tip presses against your hole. Each breath he lets out hitches into a soft whine at the end, a glassy look to his eye. You don’t sink down on him yet, feeling how his grip on your hands tightens, how his breath becomes shuddered and his gaze becomes lidded.

You wonder maybe if he can cum just from the feeling of his tip pushing inside you—maybe another night.

“Please,” he breathes out for the second time tonight and who are you to deny him?

You don’t kiss him as you sink down on his cock, eyes fluttering shut when you feel how his cock stretches your walls—you want to hear him, hear the way he gasps, the way his breath catches, you want to hear his moans and whimpers. He tries to chase your lips but you keep them just out of reach until he gives up, fingers tightening around yours and hips jerking up.

“‘s so tight,” Dazai gasps as you rock your hips slowly against his. “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” you press, breathless. 

You distract yourself from the rapidly spreading heat by kissing his neck, letting go of one of his hands to bring it to his cheek, watching as he instinctively leans into your touch, hardly able to hold his eye open. He presses a sloppy kiss to your palm, hand coming up to hold yours to his face.

“Yeah,” he says shakily, lashes drooping and lips parting in another silent moan. “Feels…”

“Feels what?” you ask him, kissing the other side of his neck before trailing wet kisses up to his opposite cheek, feeling him shudder as you tug his earlobe.

“Right,” Dazai tells you, dark eye glazed over as he looks at you, lips wet and swollen and so entirely kissable that you can’t help yourself from leaning down to steal another from him. “Feels right.”

You wonder if Dazai feels just as at home with you as you do with him and that thought is enough to make you rock your hips. 

The noise that Dazai lets out is obscene and pornographic, pitched and breathy. You can hardly appreciate the lewd expression on his face—his hair matted to his forehead, eyes half-rolled back and lips parted in a pretty ‘o’—because the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls nearly has you tumbling over the edge.

Shit, you think to yourself, desperately trying to rein in the rapidly building pleasure. Shit, what the fuck?

You never cum this quickly—usually you have to slip your hand between the sweat slicked bodies of you and your partner to rub circles around your clit so you can bring yourself over the edge at the same time as him. You don’t think you’ve ever come from penetration alone—but the stretch of Dazai’s cock, the feeling of his tip bullying deep into your cunt, the sound of skin on skin and his pretty moans, it all goes right to your head and to your pussy, the telltale signs of your thighs tensing and your abdomen tightening warning you that you’re close already.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, voice shaky. “You’re so…”

You don’t even know what you're trying to say, mind becoming increasingly more empty of thought as you rock your hips again, setting a steady pace. Dazai chokes over air beneath you, the hand still intertwined with yours squeezing hard while the other one drops from the hand you have on his face to claw the bed sheets.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his moans are becoming louder and lewder, the way his head falls to the side, face half pressed into the pillow, eyes knocked back, body arched. Dazai’s already so gone that you think any second he’ll cum deep inside of you and that thought alone makes your body shudder. 

You grab the hand clawing at the bed sheets, guiding it between your bodies as you bounce on his cock. You can feel his hazy gaze trying to figure out what you’re doing but you’re more focused on guiding his finger to rub circles around your clit.

As soon as the pressure is placed on the sensitive nub, your hips are stuttering and a gasp is tearing from your lips. Dazai’s choking when he feels your walls spasm around him, hips thrusting up erratically to meet each of your rocks, but he’s just barely coherent enough to keep his finger rubbing circles on your clit.

Your breath becomes heavy and shaky, the pace of your hips quickening, fire spreads through you so rapidly that it’s impossible to control.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp when you feel yourself tipping over the edge, eyes trying to focus on Dazai’s face and the sight you’re met with is enough to push you over the edge.

Dazai’s jaw is slack, drool pooling at the corner of his lips, the white of his eye just barely visible, cheeks flushed a deep red. He's babbling out incoherent words: you can just barely make out your name, s’good, too tight, too much, and I’m gonna-

And then you’re choking over your own moan when you feel Dazai finish inside of you, cum warm and heavy as he fucks it deep in your cunt. His lithe body trembles beneath you, tense and arched, holding your hand so tight that you think he might break it, and your vision goes white as you cum on his cock, mind blank when the taut cord snaps within you, nails digging into Dazai’s skin.

Dazai’s cock is still twitching inside of you when you slump onto his chest, tremors still spreading through his body. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips against his jaw before sliding off of him, laying on the bed next to him. You feel empty without him inside you but you distract yourself by lifting your hand to his cheek again, tilting it to the side and forcing him to look at you.

More emotion swims in Dazai’s eye than you’ve seen him express in the entire two years you’ve known him, he looks at you so reverently that you can almost imagine three words spilling from his lips, breathy and adoring. You know he won’t say them, but it’s a nice thought, you think. You lean in to ghost your lips against his briefly, the tips of your fingers carding through his dark curls. You want to say something but you don’t know what.

Well. You do know what but you can’t say it.

“You wanted me soooooo bad,” Dazai finally says, a bit more clarity returning to his eye as his lips curl up. “I knew it, you wanted me so bad.”

“You’re so annoying,” you tell him but your voice is fond and you can’t help yourself from shifting forward to press your lips against his. You feel him smile against your lips and that warm, fluttery feeling returns.

Home. 

“You love it,” Dazai sings, nipping your cheek. 

A bit longingly, you think, I do.

Instead, you roll on top of him to straddle his hips, pressing your lips against his again. 

“You wish.”

[haologram]

Don't Hate, Litigate! ⚖️ MASTERLIST.

Let's say...you're in a bit of a pinch. Maybe your wife wants to divorce you, or you've (allegedly) been involved in third-degree murder. You are entitled to an attorney - whether or not it's a good attorney is out of our control.

⚖️ Read your court report below! ↳ Off The Record: Some of these court reports contain graphic details of NSFW activities. If you're not comfortable reading these details, please look for the 🚨 to avoid said reports.

⚖️ Don't miss your court date! Sign up for our taglist here! ↳ Off The Record: The posting period for this collaboration is from October 25th, 2024 to January 25th, 2024. Please keep this in mind while you sign up for the taglist!

⚖️ A Note From The Judge: Thank you to all the lovely people invovled in making this happen. I am eternally proud of each and every one of you. This being said, I cannot believe I brewed this in less than 1hr about this because of that "AEGYO IN COURT!" tweet. Special thanks to Cam (highvern) for helping me develop this FOUR MONTHS AGO. Anyway, thank you all for making my first Seventeen collab incredible. I love you!

Don't Hate, Litigate! - Choi Seungcheol. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Altair ( @haologram ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Choi Seungcheol is smart - he is, he's gone through all of life's curveballs with his head held high and his girlfriend by his side. However, when six of the major curveballs just so happen to be the bar exam, he's not sure he can win. ⚖️ Witnesses: Paralegal!Choi Seungcheol x Law Student!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: High School Sweethearts AU, DILF!Cheol. Angst, Fluff, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Family Practice - Yoon Jeonghan. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Cam ( @highvern ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: After separating from your high school sweetheart Jeonghan years ago, you're finally ready to start dating again. But he certainly isn't. ⚖️ Witnesses: Ex-Husband!Divorce Lawyer!Yoon Jeonghan x Ex-Wife!Couples Therapist!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes to Lovers/Second Chance Romance. Smut, Angst, Comedy. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Unveiling Hearts: The Law of Attraction - Joshua Hong. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Bee ( @idyllic-ghost ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Two former law school rivals are forced to confront their past and present when they end up working together at the same firm. As old tensions resurface, their professional and personal lives become entangled, leading to unexpected challenges. Through rivalry and collaboration, they navigate the complexities of their relationship and careers, discovering that some connections are meant to be re-examined. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Joshua Hong x Lawyer!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Rivals to Lovers, Coworkers to Lovers, Lawyer AU. Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

How To Cancel Your Faustian Bargain - Wen Junhui. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Jewel ( @ugh-yoongi ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: As the devil, you’re more than happy to grant favors in exchange for someone’s soul, and you’re known for having the most iron-clad contracts around. Which is why Wen Junhui—the scene’s newest contract attorney hell-bent on returning all those souls you’ve acquired—is really starting to piss you off. ⚖️ Witnesses: Contract Attorney!Wen Junhui x Devil!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Enemies to Lovers, Lawyer AU. Crack, Fluff, Smut, ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Elevatory - Kwon Soonyoung.

⚖️ Court Reporter: Hana ( @wqnwoos ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: You were once in love with Kwon Soonyoung, and it’s incredibly hard to avoid that fact when he works literally two offices down from you. It’s even harder to avoid when you’re stuck in a broken elevator with him for hours, and he seems determined to dissect everything that went wrong three years ago. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Kwon Soonyoung x Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes AU, Coworkers AU. Angst, Fluff. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Legalities and Such - Jeon Wonwoo. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Yannie ( @wonuwoe ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Wonwoo deliberately kept his distance from you, his best friend's little sister. Changkyun might be easygoing, but a secret Wonwoo found out during high school was enough for him to ignore your existence throughout university and law school. All that changes when Changkyun enlists his help that forces you both to work together for his sake; where Wonwoo finds himself wondering if he can still find the person he once rejected all those years ago. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Jeon Wonwoo x COO!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Lawyer AU, Brother's Best Friend AU. Drama, Smut, Angst. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Killer Courtship - Lee Jihoon. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Nana ( @bitchlessdino ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: If you were lucky enough in love, you'd end the doomed engagement before it stirs up in inevitable divorce. If you were unlucky, however, you'd end up going to your divorce attorney ex for a different marriage you're trying to get out of. Bonus points if you're a murder suspect. ⚖️ Witnesses: Divorce Lawyer!Lee Jihoon x Ex-Fiancée!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes to Lovers, Second Chance Romance, Murder Mystery AU. Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Recess- Lee Seokmin. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Sky ( @drunk-on-dk ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: The day Seokmin passed the bar exam before you did was the beginning of your revenge story. He was always the less serious one, less studious, and, unfortunately for you, he won’t ever let you live it down. One day, when Seokmin is assigned a complex case, you are chosen as his co-counsel, and you can’t help but feel that tinge of annoyance you felt years ago. ⚖️ Witnesses: Attorney!Lee Seokmin x Attorney!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Lawyer AU, Coworkers to Lovers AU, Opposites Attract. Fluff, Angst, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

The Accidents - Kim Mingyu. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Mitchie ( @seokgyuu ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Mingyu loves being a lawyer. Feels like that job is made for him. At least until you join the company he works at and turn his life upside down by being… extremely clumsy. With every accident happening to you at work, Mingyu is convinced you‘re only on this earth to torment him. It doesn‘t help his case at all that you just so happen to be the cutest thing he‘s ever seen. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Coworkers to Lovers, Romantic Comedy AU. Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

The Devil's Advocate - Xu Minghao. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Altair ( @haologram ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Minghao is never going to be the first to admit he's unhappy in his loveless marriage. He married for convenience, sure, but he still cares about his wife and would never go out of his way to hurt her in any manner. That is, until you've suddenly begun catching his attention. ⚖️ Witnesses: Divorce Lawyer!Xu Minghao x Intern!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Coworkers to Lovers, Loveless Marriage AU. Angst, Romance, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Beyond The Yellow Tape - Boo Seungkwan. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Cam ( @dddino-saur ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: If there is one thing Y/N is good at, it’s unraveling a mystery. When her job as the writer behind an anonymous column for the crime magazine - Beyond The Yellow Tape - leads to her being assigned the coverage of a high profile murder trial, the very trial her best friend and roommate is the acting prosecuting attorney on, her secret becomes harder to keep hidden. Will the truth and things that have gone left unsaid be a line drawn in the sand? ⚖️ Witnesses: Criminal Attorney!Boo Seungkwan x Journalist!Fem!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Friends/Roommates to Lovers, Lawyer AU. Angst, Fluff, Suggestive. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Eyes That See The Truth - Hansol Vernon Chwe. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Nabi ( @jenoslutie ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: Things are never really easy for you, trials and tribulations may as well be on your resume. When things get too easy and you take 'young, wild and free' a little too far, you're faced with yet another nasty breakup and a custody battle. And to make matters worse? The person who has to fight for you (and strip you of all your money) just so happens to be your ex-boyfriend. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Vernon Chwe x Ex!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Exes to Lovers AU, Single Parent AU. Angst, Smut, RomCom. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

Risk Another Goodbye - Lee Chan. [🚨]

⚖️ Court Reporter: Jess ( @the-boy-meets-evil ) ⚖️ Submitted Evidence: You're exactly where you want to be in your career. You're at a firm that feels perfect. Or it was. Enter: Lee Chan. It's been 3 years since you've seen the ex that broke your heart and now he's going to be working alongside you. ⚖️ Witnesses: Lawyer!Lee Chan x Lawyer!Reader ⚖️ Exhibits: Lawyer AU, Exes to Rivals/Coworkers to ???. Angst, Fluff, Smut. ⚖️ Read Court Report Here!

HAOLOGRAM © 2024 [AS WELL AS EVERYONE ELSE MENTIONED ABOVE] || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[taffywabbit]

"why not just make your own website?"

with the announcement of cohost's death and amidst all the other tumultuous shit currently going on with social media as a concept (i am AMAZED twitter has survived this long given the circumstances), one suggestion that i've been hearing a lot is "we should just go back to the good old days of personal websites. let's all just make neocities pages!!"

(this is gonna be a long one sorry)

and like. idk! it's certainly something i've considered, i think it would be a fun thing to have, but it also feels like the equivalent of "capitalism sucks so let's all just run off into the woods and live in a cabin outside of society" to me. like it would be nice, it would be fun, but it doesn't ultimately solve the actual problems that are present with the modern internet, it just evades them. more importantly in my case and many others, it does not really help people who rely on the modern internet and the connections they're able to make there for their income. sure i can make a website and host my art and blog posts there, but who's going to see it? i can't build a consistent audience and make a living off of random passersby who peek at my website once, say "huh, neat!" and MAYBE add it to an RSS feed or whatever if they really like it. there's minimal potential for meeting and impressing new people outside my existing circles if i don't ALSO still have some manner of social media platform to promote the website on.

a lot of the "solutions" i see people proposing for the slow, painful decline of social media as a user experience keep coming back to old-fashioned, more isolated/insular systems. we miss forums, we miss personal webpages, we miss newsletters, etc etc. but like... those things were ideal in the "old web" because the old web was more about sharing hobbies and interests with whoever happened to pass by and check them out, and even just USING the internet was a niche hobby in and of itself for a lot of people. if you wanna be kinda cynical about it (and not unjustifiably so), web 2.0 is much more blatantly business-oriented, and its algorithms and carefully crafted UX's are primarily meant to funnel you towards viewing ads and spending money on products. looking at it that way, it sure does suck and Everything Was Better Before! but the modern web is ALSO more powerful than anything before it for just like. connecting people. spreading information and news. showing your art/music/writing/thoughts/etc to strangers who never knew you existed an hour ago. putting the tools to reach out to someone and tell them you think they're cool right there on the same website where their art is hosted, just a comment or a message away.

if you're able to avoid patterns of engagement-bait and obsessing over follower counts as a measure of self-worth (a big "if", i realize, but i view it like installing an adblocker - it's just kind of a basic prerequisite for modern internet safety and survival), a lot of these systems can genuinely be really positive and life-changing in ways that were simply not possible 20 years ago! almost all of my current closest friends are people I met through sharing our art on platforms like Twitter who were complete strangers at the time. all of the art clients that regularly pay my bills and support my work came from places like that too! the "social" part of "social media" is really what makes it ultimately worth keeping around in any form, and makes the pursuit of a Good social media platform still valuable.

there's a lot to love about the old web - its aesthetics, simplicity and freedom for personal expression - but every time someone says "just delete your socials and make a personal website" i am forced to confront the fact that i could never do what i currently do or be the person i am on the old web. if i was stuck hanging out in my own little space and only ever interacting with people who openly and loudly share my interests, i couldn't support myself with art full-time, i probably would never have met the kind and quiet strangers who are now my best friends and have made me who i am, and i'd just generally get a lot less insight into the vast range of experiences and perspectives that exist outside of my own. my life would be on a fundamentally different trajectory in countless ways without the advent of web 2.0.

and that's not to say "well twitter and facebook and tumblr all suck but you kinda still have to hand it to them" cuz you don't, obviously. they're corporations, and their job is to take the personalities and thoughts and art of the people who use their products and try to scrunch it all into something uninform and marketable that generates profit and pleases their shareholders. but like, you CAN still make a good thing out of them! these websites are tools just as much as geocities or myspace or IRC used to be. and the one thing these newer tools are pretty much all REALLY good at is discoverability. if you're just a hobbyist at the things you wanna share on the internet, then you likely don't have a lot of use for those tools, and perhaps you WOULD genuinely be happier just keeping a personal blog site or hanging out in private groupchats or sticking to specialized federated Mastodon instances or whatever. it just isn't feasible for me, and there are a LOT of people in my same situation. my entire industry of online freelance artists barely existed 20 years ago, and the web culture of that era is largely incompatible with my continued survival in the mid-2020s. i would LOVE to run off and live in the woods in concept, but all my survival skills are adapted for city living and i would just eat the wrong berry and die out there. i want- i NEED people to try and improve the spaces we're in, and support better forms of social media (like what cohost was trying and largely succeeding to do!) instead of just complaining that it all sucks, everything was better when we were kids, and digging ourselves little holes to hide in. much like all the other problems and frustrations and systemic issues of the world we live in, the modern web isn't going to go away if you just ignore it, so we may as well try to make it better for everyone.

anyways tl;dr i probably WILL make a neocities at some point. it could be fun, even if it doesn't help my career stability or whatever. but i do also need ALL THE SOCIAL PLATFORMS I USE FOR MY JOB TO STOP EXPLODING PRETTY PLEASE, and failing that, some actual half-decent alternatives that aren't going to fizzle out in a month would also be great thanks ✌

[amaryllis-sagitta]

Hi again, going through the different endings of DAV, I was pretty surprised to hear Solas being all like "I am a god!!" when Rook beats him in a fight. I know he has pride issues but that felt so OOC to me?? I was wondering if you had an opinion on it?

Hi, thanks for asking again!

There are 3 tiny (or not so tiny?) moments that I think push the envelope on Solas's characterization in a way that allows us to portray him as more genuinely sinister than the main line established in Trespasser, post-Trespasser media and most of DATV, which is the "Pathetic, stubborn man ridden with massive unprocessed guilt and shame, who can't make a choice without some catastrophic collateral for the life of him, and the unforeseen consequences of his choices repeatedly push him to double-cross people and have them do his dirty work".

One moment that had me thinking is the third memory of the rebellion - I mentioned earlier how Solas's pose and facial expressions make him unduly smug when Felassan calls out that they were supposed to do better than send out an army of spirits, appealing to their nature in seemingly good faith, when they were really a distraction doomed to fail. It shocked me because it seems to strike at one of Solas's core values. It's supposed to hurt more in relation to spirits because we know how much Solas despises wasting, destroying or twisting spirit purpose. And yet, in his confrontation with Felassan, he seemed content, smug even, about achieving victory against Elgar'nan and didn't show a trace of regret.

Another moment is the jab in the Fade that "at least you have Varric to talk to", again with a smug sense of satisfaction. Learning about this line took me by surprise because for all the disingenuity Solas is capable of, I never had him for someone who takes delight in such petty cruelty, especially when the matter is also personal to him to a degree. Varric's death should have hurt him by virtue of their mutual respect gained in DAI, so has the game underdelivered in representing this? Or are we really pushing a narrative that he never really changed his mind on non-elves, or chose not to acknowledge them as people, so Varric was just a disposable fool?

The third specific moment that shows Solas in a worse light is the moment you mentioned in the ask. Though, watching this scene, I feel we need to cite the full sentence:

Rook: [...] I am not alone, but you will be. The Veil needs to be tied to the life force of an elvhen god. And now it is, Dread Wolf. Solas: You sneer at me as though you understand. You are mortal! Compared to you, to your infinitesimal existence, I AM A GOD!"

This is a conditional state of an ending, when you decide to fight him and at least the companions in your party have reached the Hero status, which means they survive Solas's counterattacks, so in the end Rook doesn't stand against him alone, and does not end up in the Fade prison with Solas. This is where Solas is at his most desperate, I think, because when Rook remains alone in the Fight ending, it's a pyrrhic victory. Solas doesn't lash out then, because he isn't done with Rook. The context of "I am a god" is that Rook will soon perish while The Dread Wolf will prevail for centuries still, and no mortals can stop him in a way that matters.

But could it also be a trigger for his greatest fear: that there's a realistic chance he can very nastily die alone with his regrets and self-loathing? Because he does not say he is immortal - he never bound a dragon, so he can't take advantage of the Evanuris perk. Neither does he accept a definition of godhood. It's a matter of scale and comparison; in this final moment, he's looking for a way to belittle Rook and their team.

In fact, the "I am a god" in this context represents the extreme of the views he's held about mortals before - arguably, before joining Inquisition. Though I think that even then, he had trouble humanizing races other than elvhen. If his mind has really swayed throughout DAI, it feels barely half a step towards acknowledging that mortal elves, especially the Dalish, might have a point in their approach to history. Then, in Tevinter Nights, he says to Charter that the elves who survive the un-Veiling might find the "new" world better. Not really a win.

I believe a proper background for this is found in two conversations. First, when Rook keeps poking at Solas's plan to tear down the Veil and he stops eluding the question, Rook says "Spoken like a god". Solas's reply in this moment frankly sounds... too deflective. Like it's coming from someone who genuinely needs someone to constantly whisper "Remember you are but a mortal, Caesar" in his ear.

The second moment is when, after having the loud argument with Elgar'nan to get Rook out of a Fade pocket of despair, Solas admits Elgar'nan is who he feared becoming - callous, tyrannical and contemptuous. I guess Solas's worst moments are supposed to show how close he really could get, because the "I am a god" most definitely defines an ego trip that comes from a place of great insecurity.

If I were a hater looking for a hook to make an uncharitable argument that "He was amoral all along and his gentler side was a mask that just waited to slip", I'd start there.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

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Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

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One hour earlier…

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He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

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And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

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“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

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TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[br-disaster]

Nie Mingjue's Fatal Journey crying scenes appreciation post

There's no way I wouldn't make this post, but it ended up way longer than I intended.

Fighting with Huaisang

When is this man not tearing up?

This fight is so important for Huaisang's character development and the movie's themes, with Huaisang being ready to challenge and question the Nie ways and Mingjue doing his best to uphold those traditions and keep the peace through the only way he knows how.

But it's still hard to be challenged like this and to face the possibility that everything you've ever known might not be right, actually.

And this gif specifically is from the moment Huaisang questions if Mingjue even knows what they're there to fight and what this supposed great evil that will come to Qinghe if they fail to balance their blades even is. Mingjue has no answer, of course, I suppose he was only taught this and never had reason to question it.

But Huaisang is also talking about the disciples they already 'lost' at this point of the movie, and he says something along the lines of " You don't know anything, you only know how to bring them here to die" and that does it. Because it's both "you can't follow these rules blindly when they rely on sacrificing people" and "you've changed and I don't trust your judgement on these matters anymore".

And as he says it, Mingjue looks at their disciples and he sees the puppets for a moment. And Huaisang just questioned if the other disciples were really attacked by puppets.

So that's a big moment and Huaisang is right, of course, but he doesn't have a confirmation that this is the result of Mingjue's health deterioration yet, so he keeps pushing. And Mingjue doesn't really have a counter argument because he knows what's going on with him, but it must be very scary to hear it from the person you care about the most and realize just how much you're being affected.

(Actually, Mingjue has one counter argument and that is "Well, I am at least trying to do something while you're painting and living a carefree life", and he's not wrong either. Huaisang is right and rightfully harsh, but this is the first time he's being confronted with these difficult choices and all their family history. He can reflect on and question it, but his brother has been meking those hard decisions since he was 14, when did he ever had a break to question and change things?)

Which leads us to

The Talk

After seeing his brother sacrifice himself for him at the bridge, and then seeing Mingjue be so vulnerable and lost, that anger from their fight is gone. They can meet in the middle with "You are right, I wasn't thinking straight, this is not a long term solution and I've failed at changing our ways" and "It's not your fault, you did everything you could but you're not responsible for this situation" and it's very beautiful and heartbreaking.

Mingjue is so remorseful, both because he has condemned Huaisang to die with him and because he feels like he failed everyone and everything (even if he doesn't seem to know what he could have done differently to avoid all this).

And Huaisang's reaction in this scene is so calm it made me think this Huaisang is somewhat used to his brother displaying vulnerability around him. This isn't book NMJ with all his victories, this isn't a man who never let the Unclean Realm be conquered and who could afford to keep Huaisang far away from the war. This is a man who was attacked and subdued in his own home, who had to send Huaisang to the hands of the people who killed their father.

This Huaisang doesn't have reasons to see Mingjue as this unmovable force, he has seen Mingjue hurt and threatened and fearful; and he's now seeing him remorseful and defeated.

(I'm sure Mingjue telling Huaisang about the fact that he's dying and admiting his mistakes and insecurities is something new, especially considering their previous fight, but this Huaisang doesn't take it as a shock, because he knows his brother is only human and there's only so much he can handle. He even, like, explicitly says this)

And so he assumes this calm, reassuring and empathetic posture, because that's what his brother is asking for. And it's the most beautiful thing, Huaisang has so much love for him, so much empathy. And this is Mingjue's reaction to his brother's reassurance that it's okay if they have to die there:

I'm sure Huaisang is still processing Mingjue's "I only forced you to practice because I'll die soon", but he's so good at reassuring his brother.

Because Mingjue just told him "I am dying and I'll go as a failure" and Huaisang insisted "None of this is your fault and you did everything you could and more, and if I have to die here with you today, I don't regret a thing, and you shouldn't either".

There's no despair or anger that his brother is only telling him this now, there's only understanding and acceptance and so much love and they really knew what they were doing with this movie.

His people love him

Mingjue is so moved. He just admitted to Huaisang that he's not in peace with his accomplishments, or lack thereof; that he feels ashamed to face his ancestors, having done so little.

So I truly believe Mingjue doesn't consider himself worthy of this much trust and support. (And I can't ignore how this is tied to the Nightless City situation, where he led the men who trusted him with their lives to a dangerous situation and couldn't save any of them).

As we see in the confrontation at Jinlintai, that technically happens after this movie, that is still a very sensitive topic.

And here he has his loyal disciples saying they will follow him yet again, despite his previous 'failures'; just like Huaisang was ready to die with him. They have so much trust in him, and the way he's nodding a little here, just like he was nodding when Huaisang reminded him of everything he's done for their sect since their father died, is like he's convincing himself of it. That he can do this and he can do this right this time.

And yet

He fails again. And I don't even think he knows it was him who killed those disciples, like some people say. He doesn't need to because it doesn't matter. His men, who followed him till the end of the world, are dead again. And so is the hope he had of doing this one right thing before he dies.

Yes, he supressed the saber spirit like he had to, but they're still dead, all of them.

He falls apart, how could he not?

At some point I'm sure Huaisang his holding all his weight because he just gives up. There's only so much loss one can handle and that's way too much.

And look at the way Huaisang is watching him as he realizes something inside Mingjue shattered forever.

There's so much pain in this scene, it looks physically taxing and I hope people gave Wang Yizhou a break after he shot this. I know it's his job and he's phenomenal at it, but this has to mess with your head a little.

And hey, it's a Huaisang crying scene as well. CQL Huaisang only really cries twice. First he watches his brother have a mental breakdown in his arms after unknowingly killing his own disciples; and then as he watches his brother qi deviate and die, while unable to do anything to either stop or comfort him.

(And a lot of people said there's no hesitation on Huaisang's part when he rushes to his brother's aid when Mingjue is hurt on this post's notes, and that's true for book Huaisang too, because he runs towards Mingjue as he is qi deviating, gets hurt in the process, and still keeps calling for him, which makes CQL's decision to have JGY holding him back kind of cruel, tbh, there's not a Huaisang who would run from a hurting Mingjue regardless of the risks

But at least we have this scene.)

And that's it, I guess. There's nothing uplifting to say about this, really. He just went through a lot and kept shouldering everything until he couldn't anymore. I just wish book NMJ had gotten to receive the same love and comfort and acceptance from NHS before he died, I wish he had been able to tell his brother what was actually happening, but thats kind of the purpose of this movie, so I'm just very grateful that it exists.

It's like that post says, it didn't change anything but the love was there, you know? That's how this movie feels for me.

[dusty-siltstrider]

Alright I'm properly boozed and decently numbed. I promised to bitch excessively on here if our boy became a name on a missing poster. Here the fuck I am.

For reference I'm focusing on Viktor and Jayce here. More than enough has been said about everyone else. Y'all ate good. Let us starve in peace. Lots of this comes from lengthy discussions on the Viktor Nation disc.

To start - no, Viktor does not appear in the new trailer. I'm sorry, he just doesn't. Not even a voice line which should have been pretty fucking easy. Over at Viktor Nation we spent nearly an hour going over the trailer frame by frame brightening shit to see if he shows. He does not. No, not even a far-off shot of his arm. We got more Viktor in the teaser from two months ago than the official trailer.

However...

100% Glorious Evolved. Fingerprints around their faces match what appears to be Viktor face-grabbing that Shimmer addict from the teaser trailer. Similar rune carvings. This is his cult. Which uhh right off the bat is much different from any other interpretations?

Basically confirms they're going all-in on runic magic for Viktor and largely veering away from classic Machine Herald. Which I have feelings about. That will be reserved for the season itself once we see it play out.

And before any smartasses come in with "lol at least you got a shot of his feet" jokes those definitely aren't his. Just one of the random cultists floating judging by the angling. And Viktor's would be full grape Fanta. The silvery/gold texture is interesting. Some kind of manipulation of metal through magic?

Don't even.

Also been seeing a lot on the shadowy golden-eyed figure and we figured that's near-certainly not him either.

Looks sick, I'll admit. I kinda hope it's him, in fact. Most likely not him. Face shape is slightly too squared off, ears stick out too far, yes I went in deep on skull shape for this and I'm at least 75% sure that ain't him. And Viktor's magical influence/Hexcore spookiness has been defined by purple sinews and more organic forms than this more fantastical shadow tendril thing. This seems to be a new force entirely.

I won't discount it outright since Viktor's eyes are indeed associated with gold/amber but for all I know this could be Mel. Eye socket shape/nose does vaguely match. And Viktor's eyes would likely lean more towards a purple voidy glow in S2 if they're going all-in on the Hex Core.

Possible Jayce cameo? Very obviously meant to be his wristband gem, maybe somehow got fused with his skin. The grip on the object appears heavy so it's not Viktor's cane/staff. Could very well be the Viktor/Jayce confrontation since if you squint there might a robed figure standing in front of that weird fuckin magic doodad.

Speaking of...

Saw a pretty interesting post from @nylloth saying this could be Viktor's "hospital" or maybe some kind of Glorious Evolved temple. It does resemble the fucked up glowing sinewy appearance of the Hex Core so perhaps some kind of hallucination or vision that Viktor is having of his potential. Would love to hear more thoughts on that though. It's very obviously related to "the Arcane" as a broader more mysterious force.

Wanted to be angrier here but I'm honestly just disappointed. Which is ass because pit fighter Vi and Ekko and revolutionary Jinx are all things I'm genuinely looking forward to but I can't rally it. I'm very glad everyone else ate good though. Does indeed look sick and I'm still excited. Pit fighter Vi especially. Holy fuck. But I'm just too bummed out about Viktor, call that dramatic or childish but idc it's how it is.

Be stingy about appearances and character designs but it could not have been difficult to include a single voice line. Don't even bother including it in the show, get a couple trailer-only lines or a "Glorious Evolution" or SOMETHING. Don't give me that "well their fates are still ambiguous" No they aren't lmao they just aren't. By this point everyone knows Jayce and Vik live and 50/50 on Mel.

If Viktor had not appeared in that teaser TWO MONTHS ago for like 2 seconds then it would be reasonable to assume he got erased from the show entirely lol. We have a shot of his arm to go off of until we hopefully get a proper Viktor poster. Cool. Nice arm.

That is all. For now. Please refrain from discussing leaks. I don't need any more temptation.

[gobvo]

A Little Brain-rotting Theory on The King of Puppet's design...

A couple of nights ago I had a realization, something about the KOP's second phase body always looked off to me and I couldn't identify what. It's not his entire body but his pelvic area in particular. For a while i didn't give it too much thought, kept on drawing him mostly as human anyways so I wasn't observing his model as well as i should have.

Then one evening as I was scouring the web for refs for a piece unrelated to Lop it finally clicked. Now bear with me! This is going to get weird but trust me it'll perhaps make sense to you too. To be clear I am not saying that my mad theory is canon subtext nor is intentional or has any legitimacy. This could very much be a case of the devs taking aesthetic inspiration and nothing more. What I'm trying to get at is that there's probably no meaning/symbolism behind it at all.

Okay so, why does the KOP's crotch area interests me so much? That part of his body always remind me of something I'd seen but couldn't remember what. Now I do...

Romeo’s whole pelvis area bears quite the resemblance with Chastity belts.

I know, I know, I know! Absolute brain rot but hear me out! I already brought this up on Discord and had a wonderful back and forth with two lovely people who get the logic behind this theory. They both brought up some very interesting ideas and facts that had slipped my mind and made this headcannon even juicier. So let’s just entertain the idea that this design choice is intentional for a few seconds. Just a few seconds….

For starters we need to focus on who designed this, that bitter bastard Geppetto. We all know Geppetto planned most if not the entire chaos that happened in Krat. The confrontation between P and Romeo as well, note that out of all the bosses outside of the Nameless Puppet and arguably Murphy(but he’s there before we go into the boss battle so..). Geppepe only shows up personally to greet P after baby boi kills Romeo. It’s the only time he does so. Almost like he was both scared that something would go wrong and also in trepidation of what was to come. There’s a palpable glee in his voice post KoP fight.

In the dialogue Geppetto even acknowledges he shouldn’t be there, it’s risky.

First of all, what was his lard ass going to do to help P win this fight?! Bind P with his shiny puppet strings and force him to finish what he'd started? A question for another day...

The point being that this fight could potentially make or break all the hard work Gep put into his scheme. So he HAD to be there, to keep an eye on everything. On his “precious” son lest he step out of line and join the KOP or worse…

I'm also bringing this dialogue up because Gep said a line one of the people i was discussing with reminded me of and that i always found absolutely bizarre.

WTF is that supposed to mean?!! What do you mean Geppetto?! Why are we talking about Romeo's inability to reproduce?!!

The answer is simple. It's cause Geppepe is taking pleasure in all of this. In my mind this implies Gep probably hated Romeo. For a couple of reasons that are in the realm of hc but make sense if you think about it.

Romeo was up until Carlo's death, the closest male figure he constantly had around him. Living together in a boarding school would only help to strengthen their bond. Carlo would certainly seek him out first for comfort or advice before ever considering going talk to his old man.

Gep is a controlling father and possibly very possessive. With his neglect only widening the distance between him and Carlo. I could totally imagine a preteen/teenage Carlo ditching his dad to go hang out, write letters or talk on the phone for hours with his friend instead of spending "quality" time staring at the whites of Geppepe's eyes (or his back) during holidays. This defiant nonchalance could only anger Geppepe further.

Geppetto doesn't strike me as the type of person who's capable of introspection. He'd notice "terrifying" changes in his son's attitude and instead of questioning his life choices, he'd probably blame that street kid Carlo can't keep out of his mouth nor out of earshot.

We all know the reputation boarding schools had back in the 1800s, specially same sex boarding schools. So I'm going to point you to this banger of a post https://www.tumblr.com/ideas-on-paper/754559262628462592/on-carlo-and-romeos-relationship-homosexuality?source=share by @ideas-on-paper. They go a lot more in dept than i ever could. The summary is young boys and girls in same sex boarding schools got their freak on.

We see Gep's neglect truly peak in Carlo's early childhood, we don't know what went on in his late teens nor his early adulthood. This of course requires you to share a common hc that both Carlo and Romeo died around the ages of 16-19 at most. Perhaps during those later years Gep began to pay close attention to Carlo and his entourage. Worse yet. maybe he even began to intrude in his son's intimacy.

Putting those ideas together paints a very vivid picture of this trio's potential dynamics. Gep ignores Carlo, Carlo begins to resent Gep, Romeo and Carlo grow closer as they live and age together then Carlo ignores in turn his dad in favor of enjoying the company of the only male figure in his life that truly loved him and showcased it. Thus, hatred for Romeo takes root deep within that old bastard.

What does that have anything to do with Romeo's crotch being built to resemble a chastity belt you might ask. Well imma have to give you some historical context through screenshots of the most relevant bits of the articles on this obscure subject. I'll post their links at the end of the post(It's surprisingly hard to find more info on this subject and I'm not an essayist okay!!), in case anyone wants to read them.

For starters most articles corroborate the same story. The chastity belt legend meant to keep women from cheating on their husbands is a myth. An urban legend that gained fame during the 18th and 19th centuries. Before this period, they were mostly referred in satirical texts and works such as…

Most historians agree that the chastity belt myth became widespread due to 18th/19th centuries forgeries and the general modern populace (This includes Victorians, Belle Epoque era folks and us) unwillingness to believe our ancestors had a sense of humor. Apparently Victorians were fascinated with this type of nonsense and believing them to be true, gave them a weird sense of “superiority”.

So we now know that those belts were probably machinations from Victorian con men or tricksters. This brings us back to Krat and its Victorian/Belle Epoque ways.

Bet your ass, Krat had fuckery just like these irl examples. Crowds of rich folks ready to pay hefty prices to ogle at shocking spectacles and the likes. But we're going off the rails here...

Coming back to our main triangle here, I think the design of Romeo's pelvic region is no coincidence. Me thinks Geppetto is taking the piss out of Romeo. On top of turning his childhood best friend reincarnation/successor/physical clone or whatever you wanna call P, against Romeo. Gep had to add insult to injury, he felt a need to rub salt on an open wound.

Why? My first hypothesis is that Gep believed Romeo and Carlo were an item. And whether his disapproval for this relationship was motivated by homophobia or sick possessiveness is something i'm gonna let you mull over. Is there any evidence to support his suspicions? Once again I'll let you decide. Both versions of the story are equally as juicy to me. Gep growing jealous because he starts to notice healing hickeys on his son's throat despite a lack of girlfriend, is chef's kiss.

DISCLAIMER: THIS ISN'T A GEPPETTO/CARLO POST. My idea for his emotional turmoil resembles more that of a parent seeing their child not as a person and more as a possession. Think boymoms or girldaddies who hover over their child helicopter fashion but in a very toxic way. This isn't about incest but you can view it that way if that floats your boat.

In contrast, Geppepe's suspicions could be pure paranoia. Doubt he wouldn't have heard of the rumors about boarding schools, if he hasn't been to one himself as a young boy. Couple that with the strong bond Carlo and Romeo share and you get a lunatic psycho like Geppetto foaming at the mouth. There probably wasn't anything going on but just the thought that there might be, could push that man to do unspeakable things like trying to end a whole man’s ability to ejaculate/reproduce and emasculating him in the process.

Let’s assume for a minute that hypothesis number 1 is true. Carlo and Romeo are an item behind closed doors but being horny teens, they conceal it very badly. One could argue that Gep figured out or discovered through whatever means that Carlo and Romeo took each others’ virginity and boom! We have one possible motive for this suspicious design.

It’d be his way of saying “oh yeah?! You think you can sully my son like that you filthy gutter rat?!! Well think again! I’m ending your ability to nut and I’ll make it obvious to the whole world! No descendants for you asshole!” Hence the weird little line about no heir. Not that Carlo could get pregnant anyway but Yknow it’s said like a sadistic little reminder “oh I cut your dick off.”

Unless Carlo was trans…but that’s another story for another day.

Hypothesis number 2

Doesn’t change much from the first besides the fact that there is no romantic relationship. Romeo and Carlo are simply two lads who share a very close bond and love each other platonically. They’re there for each other when need be since both lack stable parental figures for differing reasons but manage to find common ground and comfort in this friendship.

Their closeness still bothers Gep, who blames Carlo’s “mischievous” attitude entirely on Romeo instead of reflecting on his own faults. This spurs Geppetto when presented with the opportunity to turn Meo into a puppet to “rectify”, take revenge or whatever awful sentiment might motivate him. In my opinion, even if they brushed the subject and Romeo denied it, Geppepe would refuse to believe him.

Either way Romeo’s gonna suffer.

Hypothesis number 3

Romeo was a compulsive masturbator and Geppetto thought it wise to put a stop to it. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Frankly idk where I’m going with this…

I think I’ve said everything I wanted to say. Big thanks to the two folks on discord who helped me flesh this whole hc out.

That was long as hell and it’s almost 5am for me, so I’m gonna call it a night and thank u for reading this nonsense. I’ll probably edit this at a later date and add a few things i probably forgot.

[drawing-prompt-s]

GoFundMe - Apartment Transfer

Really did not think that I would be making one of these again. But yours truly, Prompt Prophet, cannot catch a break. Every time that I think I am it seems to them just be ripped right back away.

Note: any further proof you require, please contact me at my main, @prophet-rebellion, and I will do what I can to show you.

$400/$400

Links:

GoFundMe

PayPal

Venmo

Please note that this following update means that anybody who wanted to send additional funds for my current roommates cat - Do Not. I want nothing to do with her. Her cat did nothing but after all this I am done. Not funds had been sent for that cat yet but they had been inquired about being a possibility.

----------------

TL;DR - my apartment that told me they were moving my nightmare of a roommate with something called a forced transfer, then apparently reversed their decision (despite documentation) and did not tell me. The only way for me to get out now is to pay a $300 Transfer Fee + Applicable costs to get out as soon as I can. Giving up the apartment I have lived at for almost 2 years now.

The full explanation I gave is under the cut.

Please note I do not want to be doing this, and as soon as I hit $400 the GoFundMe is getting closed. People are struggling enough right now and I hate asking for monetary help when I know this much.

But god, for the sake of myself and my cat I cannot do this. I can't live here with her anymore, but I can't break my lease either.

FULL EXPLANATION (copied from GoFundMe):

Many of you know me for raising funds regarding my cats, either in the search for one of them as being missing, or more recently to raise funds for the other for ear mite treatment.

We reached the full goal of ear mite treatment within 24 hours of the fundraiser being set up - and it feels wrong in a sense to add the funds to that GoFundMe. The Ear Mite treatment is still happening and I fully intend to post an update photo of her at the vet there when I can.

However, to this end, so much as I do not want to be asking for help.

Living with my current roommate is hell. Cut and dry. She is vindictive, rude, loud, and confrontational. Her own cat has a tendency to attack my own and has on many occasions. This roommate was moved into the apartment in June, I have been here for more than a year and a half.

I will save you most of the story because there is an incredible amount, honestly, and I have cried more than my fair share today. My body is threatening more tears as I work through writing this now.

Incredibly important note: one of my old roommates is moving back in, she is a good friend of mine. However, given all that my current one has done, the original roommate refuses to move back if the current one is still present. I cannot blame her as the actions of my current roommate have driven me to locking myself in my room 24/7, along with my ESA. I wish that this was an exaggeration. It is not.

The brunt of the situation comes down to this:

We had mediation, my current roommate and I, and it was about as useless as you would believe it to be.

Nothing changed, in fact any things reverted back to the way they had been or seemingly got worse.

I went to speak with the property manager one-on-one to bring the full story to light along with evidence to backup what I was saying. I completely broke down at this point in time. I cannot break my lease, I cannot escape my current roommate - I am caged.

What was decided in that meeting was that they would be performing a forcible transfer of my roommate - she would be moving to another apartment, same layout, same size room, etc. But out. We would then phase my soon-to-be roommate back in (she had not originally renewed her lease because she was going to be gone for some time). This meeting was on Friday. I was told by the property manager that the following Monday she was going to have a meeting with my current roommate and inform her of this. The whole process would supposedly take about 2 weeks. (It should also be included that my current roommate has had multiple violations of her lease which I had documented). This decision was then further documented by an email they sent to my soon-to-be roommate stating that upon her arrival into the apartment, my current roommate would be gone. So this is an actual documented decision.

The two weeks was almost up and nothing had been heard, my roommate had not packed, etc. So yesterday (October 17th) I sent an email to which I got no reply. Today (October 18th) I went and spoke to the leasing manager (different from the Property Manager, whom is ranked just above her). the LM had no idea what I was talking about. She then spoke with the PM, who I had met with and called me back.

Apparently, the Property Manager, in her meeting the following Monday decided that actually we would continue to live together. My current roommate would no longer be moved out. This sudden change was not communicated to myself or my soon-to-be roommate who was refiling her lease under the impression the issue would be gone.

No curtsey to respond to my email, no honoring a DOCUMENTED decision. Etc. Just radio silence to me.

The only two options available are this - since they are now also giving my soon-to-be (hopefully) roommate a hard time about her income.

1. Myself and my soon-to-be roommate are moved from our original apartment to a different and fully vacant apartment.

(This is the decision we are going with on the grounds that my STB roommate be accepted).

2. My STB roommate does not move in at all and cancels her lease process, leaving me along in the apartment with my devil of a roommate and her cat that keeps attacking my own.

This second option is not sustainable. I am breaking, entirly. I am so tired, and so done with this all.

I do not want to give up where I have lived for almost two years becuase the actions of a vindictive new arrival. But I cannot stay here. If I could break my lease then I would. Because the Property Manager is the highest authority present at the office there is nobody I can go to above her that will hold her to her documented word and honor it. (I did but in a request to the corporation that owns my complex to speak with them about her conduct, but I doubt anything will come of it outside of retaliation).

The reality of option 1 however, is that it is no longer considered a forced transfer. Meaning that i have to pay the transfer fee listed in my lease of $300 plus applicable fees ("convenience" fee and card transfer %). I cannot move apartments until this fee is paid.

Therefore I am setting the amount at $400 to account for the percentage that GFM takes, and the amount that the apartments themselves will be taking on.

I have no set goal for how fast this will be filled, but by God, the sooner the better. I am not renewing my lease and remaining her after it ends in June.

[survivalove]

I hate to do this but someone reblogged one of my posts and I scrolled down their tl, hoping to mutual, and saw this mess:

Do people actually somehow watch the show and not see every single moment where Katara blushes or plays with her hair around Aang, gets shy at the thought of kissing Aang, is clearly attracted to him in Book 3, gets jealous of any girl that’s also attracted to him.

Or Aang comforting Katara several times: hugging her in the Serpent’s Pass and validating her feelings to the point she cried, comforting her when Jet died and getting the whole group to hug her, telling her how she inspires people and gives them hope, literally tells her she’s a hero??

Aang and Katara literally having several disagreements, Aang’s perception of Katara changing over the three seasons, him agreeing with every single idea she had to flat out rejecting her advice, then wrongly blowing up at her after zuko and the rest were flat out racist to him?? Aang telling her to confront the man that killed her mother after she rejected his advice??

Mind you Katara can barely tell Aang likes her back until season 3 and clearly shows feelings for him way before he starts initiating romantic acts with her after TWO seasons of her touching, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him unprompted 💀 not to mention “forces non-romantic feelings on her” when she is the one that said he was her family after a week of knowing him?? what does that even meannnnn

And I’m supposed to believe that these people actually watched the show, paying attention to… KATARA?

On top of that, to say (not pictured) the only person to ever comfort her was the guy that attacked her several times 💀 and he didn’t even do anything??? used Sokka’s trauma to come up with a plan he didn’t even agree with (nor did he ask him, like you can ask him to retell the most horrible moment of his life, but you can’t ask him if taking his sister to confront the man is a good idea? you can’t even ask him if he wants to go??? that is literally the most horrible writing i’ve ever seen but i digress). on top of that doing it for the most obvious ulterior motive of getting her to forgive him. standing there while she bloodbended and almost killed a man, not knowing she just swore off doing the former weeks ago because all he knows her to be is hostile until that moment. He doesn’t know Katara to be someone that expresses love and kindness until she forgives him but apparently this is how you comfort someone over every single moment of Aang comforting her that I listed above. okayyyyy

Just to contrast for contrast’s sake, Aang:

1. offers to take Katara to the North Pole with zero ulterior motive,

2. gets her mother’s necklace back with zero ulterior move,

3. helps her destroy a factory with zero ulterior motive…

4. helps her get Haru back, stands up for her to Pakku, calls her Sifu when she complains, comes back to save her home and gives himself up, comes back to save her in ba sing se and I’m sure a million things I’m missing, all with literally zero ulterior motives at all.

Meanwhile antagonist does one nice thing for female mc with shady undertones that might as well be overtones and now he’s allegedly better than her friend who helps her several times for no reason other than the fact that its something she wants.

Like am I supposed to believe that these people actually like Katara or are media literate at all? I feel like I’m going insane 😭

[thousand-sunnies]

I am *looking* at that lawlu fae au, yell about it, please. I'd love to hear moar xd

YESS TYSM FOR ASKING!!! sorry for the late response, busy irl time for a little, BUT! i have been thinking about lawlu a lot recently (i’m just about done with watching through dressrosa, so, well, you get it), and i always think fae rules make for a fascinating story, so…

namely, this train of thought was inspired by this tumblr post which i think. encapsulates the lawlu dynamic pretty well. i mean, it’s not like luffy is trying to be owned by someone, but good luck getting any sort of handle on that guy even if he’s yours by the letter of the law. and traffy already has a few markers of being a good fae in canon (tricky as hell, hiding his real name, refusing to eat certain foods lol), so it fits!

and it’s like. imagine. you’re a fae. you know how the world works for you. there’s unspoken rules and unspoken conventions and unspoken hatred coursing through your blood. there’s someone you want to tear down from his post, but it’s not easy, not with the faerie court dynamics involved. you’ve been planning this for a long, long time. it may make you want to scream, but at least the schemes you lay out make sense.

and then, right. and then this human wanders into your domain, and eats your food, and shrugs when you tell him this means he cannot leave. and sure, he’s here now, it’s – fine, whatever, as long as he doesn’t get underfoot, so you leave him to his own devices and look away.

except, right.

except you find out very quickly that he gets underfoot.

a lot. in every way you can imagine, and some ways you can’t possibly. you’ve been raised to see humans as – not inferior, maybe, but certainly easy enough to control – but now you’re suddenly forced to confront the fact that this human had – just – not been raised with the same rules that you have ingrained into your very existence. he says he’s free, and that makes no sense, because you technically own him, what freedom is there in belonging to someone like you, but he– he doesn’t live by your standards. he doesn’t do what you ask. he breaks every rule, and stomps past every line you draw, and makes no sense, and–

and. so.

he had just not been raised with the same rules that all of your kind have ingrained into their very existence, you realise, suddenly. you’re pretty sure that doflamingo knows all about your tricks, and schemes, and traps.

you’re pretty sure, however, that doflamingo is not expecting a punch to the face.

and so, maybe having a human on your side isn’t that bad after all.