#bless rain code seriously

[austajunk]

Nothing to see here. Just a smol baby murder detective head of an entire organization of detectives and his taller, bolder, immortal, Homonculus, flesh eating, optimistic informant girlfriend. <3

[thelov3lybookworm]

As a slut for angst today “tolerate it” has been stuck on a loop and now I am imaging an angsty fic where Az just slowly begins to forget about reader and she threatens to leave but he doesn’t take her seriously and is so utterly destroyed when he comes back home and she’s gone…

Like I feel like it’s on brand with him and his duty to his job and whatnot. Plus the lyrics are so him coded “while you were out building worlds where was I” / “took this dagger in me and removed it” LIKE HELLO???

(But I also love a good happy ending so I feel like if azzy groveled hard enough… 👀)

Tolerate it.

Summary: She is fed up.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehehehe angsttttt yummy yummyyyy

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n laughed at Feyre's pathetic attempts at skipping the large puddle on the ground accumulated due to the rains that had Velaris freezing overnight.

Feyre failed miserably, her boots and leggings getting wet from the splash that signalled her downfall against the watery enemy of hers. But Feyre was not fazed. She simply laughed alongside Y/n, her eyes crinkling as the two of them made their way back to the river house.

It was visible already now, Y/n could even make out the grains in the wood of the door as it opened, and her brother in laws, along with her mate, spilled out.

Y/n could see from the corner of her eyes as her sister lit up at seeing her mate, her husband and the father of her child. The moment his eyes met her, she took off, her arms spread as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Rhysand did not hold back either, clutching Feyre to her chest with as much enthusiasm as she held him.

It made Y/n smile.

Y/n then glanced behind the embracing couple to her mate, the overwhelming urge to hug him too and to claim him in front of anyone watching making her start walking towards him without even realising.

Which was reckless, as the moment he realised she was walking towards him to hug him? He took a step back.

Y/n knew that he hated being affectionate in front of others, but this was cruel.

So to not get embarrassed by his rejection, Y/n turned swiftly towards Cassian, her other brother in law, who stood not too far from where Azriel did, and hugged him instead.

Cassian, Mother bless his heart, did not even question it.

He wrapped his arms around Y/n and literally lifted her off the ground, cackling when Y/n's fist made contact with his shoulder over and over again as she demanded to be put down.

Y/n had to stop herself from thinking back to that day. She did not want to relive the pain she had felt, the sadness and anger.

Y/n watched his eyes fluttering, wondering if he was dreaming. Wondering who he was dreaming about.

It definitely was not her, that was for sure.

Y/n, feeing a little sadness taking root in her heart, returned to the portrait in her hands, questioning if it would even be worth it finishing it up when he sure as hell wouldn't even acknowledge it. Or her.

Y/n glanced at the paint supplies she had placed on the coffee table next to her, having wanted to capture a moment of him letting his guard down, of him being vulnerable using her best paints, knowing he would not care.

She guessed living for as long as he had, life and the small things didn't matter as much anymore. Maybe that was why he loved to go on the missions Rhysand, Y/n's brother in law, gave him.

It probably gave him the thrill nothing else did anymore.

With Y/n's sister just having given birth to the starlight of the court, Rhys had become more and more protective, sending his brothers and anyone and everyone at his disposal to check and report about every trivial thing that made his primal mate and father side get protective.

Slowly, Y/n reached for the brush that rested in the cup half filled with coloured water, deciding to finish the half done portrait. If he did not care... she did not now what she would do then, but she did know she was tired of being tolerated by him.

But what could she even do? It was not like she could just up and leave.

Y/n blinked.

Or... could she?

Y/n shook her head, as if to dislodge the though, and with a sigh, she let herself get lost in the soft skill of painting her sister had taught her long ago, when staying up and huddling under worn blankets was the only thing bringing any warmth.

Trying not to think about the fact that the last time she remembered him caring for her, genuinely caring for her, was only when the two had been in their early stages of relation ship and the mating bond was a very new experience to a newly made fae Y/n, she continued using the soft and strong, long and short strokes to finish up her latest masterpiece.

Of course, Y/n never would call herself a creator of masterpieces, but any and all art that included her perfect mate was destined to be a masterpiece.

Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was capturing the perfect angle for his eyes, nose, lips, shoulder.

Nothing existed but Y/n, her art, and her muse.

Nothing existed but the soft rise and fall of his back as he lay sprawled on his stomach, the effortless way his wings draped across the whole bed, taking up space three wingless fae could have slept in.

Where Y/n would have slept in, on days when everything had been filled with stars and dreams, wrapped under his warm wing like it were a living blanket.

When he pretended he was nothing, absolutely nothing but her mate. Her husband. Not a spymaster, not a shadowsinger, not a brother. Just her mate, her lover.

Those days were far gone now.

•○🌑○•

Despite the fact that she knew he would most definitely not care, Y/n was excited.

And that was downplaying what she felt.

The wait was killing her, the amount of adrenaline in her bloodstream making her want to jump around to get rid of the energy that made her shiver, her limbs going cold and warm at the same time. She had to push her fists together and shove them between her thighs to keep them from shaking, which did not help at all.

So Y/n waited, her body clenched in anticipation as she stared at the doorway that led into the living room, a big grin on her face.

She glanced once at the sketchpad in front of her on the table, admiring her artwork for a moment.

She never liked whatever she made, always feeling like it lacked something. So for her to be excited to show off her art to her mate was a huge indication to how much she loved the portrait.

The familiar scuff of worn boots drew Y/n's attention, and she shot to her feet, pressing her fists to the back of her thighs.

It had become a habit of Azriel's, to purposefully make some noise before he stepped in view so as not to startle her with his appearance.

The action melted Y/n's heart every single time.

He stepped into view, as ethereal as the day Y/n had first seen him as a human, just as beautiful as he had looked that day as he tried to get comfortable on the small chair in the manor on the other side of the wall, just as loveable as that day when she had ended up losing her heart to the low born fae that should have intimated her.

He was fumbling with his armor, making sure it was all secured properly before he left for whatever mission Rhys assigned him for that day.

He glanced up just as he walked past Y/n to the kitchen counter, a small smile gracing his face before his attention was again diverted.

Y/n tried not to deflate at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Good morning love. Look-"

"Good morning Y/n." He cut her off, his voice void of emotions, as if he was tired of saying the same thing every morning and wanted to get it over with. He didn't even glance at Y/n as he said it, and Y/n pretended not to notice that he used her name instead of whatever endearing name he would have picked before.

"I will be on a scouting trip to Illyria, and after I have a meeting and dinner scheduled with Rhys and Cass, so I will be late coming home. Don't wait up."

Y/n's smile faded. "Don't wait up or stay out of my way?"

Azriel froze. "What?"

Y/n released a humourless laugh. "Nothing. Go have fun."

Azriel turned, giving her a hard look. "You know I would rather stay at home with you."

Doubtful.

Y/n so badly wanted to say it to his face, but she did not want to fight with him so early in the morning, so she sighed, smiled and nodded.

He started walking towards the door, and despite her anger, Y/n walked forward to kiss his cheek.

She did not miss how he recoiled.

Y/n masked the hurt before he could see it, and he gave her an awkward smile before he maneuvered to walk around her, careful not to brush against her.

Y/n watched him walk away, staring hard at the door even long after he'd left.

She then glanced at the portrait she had abandoned on the table, and, her heart hardening, turned away.

She was tired of having her love be tolerated, and she would not have it be that way anymore.

Either he accept her love the way it was, loud and clear, or he go find someone else.

And so, she turned, walked up the stairs to the bedchambers she shared with Azriel, and began to turn it back into just his bedchambers.

She would no longer be tolerated only because some godly entity thought she and him would make great, powerful kids and tied them together with a string.

She deserved to be cherished.

•○🌑○•

Part 2

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

[ilyuu-archive]

self aware. (voicelines.)

a consciousness not coded nor ciphered into his system; it is nothing less of a blessing if it means bearing witness to you.(or him listening to how you react to their voicelines.)

ft. : diluc, kaeya, scaramouche & xiao.

warnings : religious themes, obsessive behavior, suggestive (scaramouche), you as a simp (diluc snd xiao), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n : anddd a ty to @mondaymelon for the inspiration!! <3 ily melon mwah,,

diluc.

frost melts as the clouds part, a small shaft of sunlight a first step of a clear, cut day. the touch the cold held onto him fades to the presence of aureate warmth, soaking him in its familiar light.

“listen, as long as you stick to your own path, it doesn't matter what mother nature throws at you.”

“it does matter because i’m not trying to die to frostbite, master diluc.”

he hears your voice from somewhere - where? he doesn’t know and, rather, he doesn’t exactly mind not knowing. he’s blessed either way. …though he prefers not to be the reason of your slight of irritation.

“look, you’re half hp already. i can’t live without you. …i-i mean, literally, i can’t live without you since i main yo— does that make sense?”

oh.

he feels himself flush a bit. so that’s where the flower of irritation came from, bloomed from a seed of concern and… adoration, perhaps? maybe he’s thinking of himself a bit too highly in that aspect.

but let such a dream, so far out of reach, yet within his grasp, drift within his very being. it’s already enough that he’s the object of your attention (as of now, he thinks, and it sets an uneasy feeling in his chest) and that he’s doted on with your presence alone.

oh, truly has he been blessed with dreams.

kaeya.

the city of romance, wine, and, of course, wind, continues to course, akin to the windmills that never ceases to flow - it’s familiar. a home away from ho—

“i didn't know you were such a slacker.”

silence.

“…seriously? in front of the alchemy table?” a smile all too easily touches his lips. he’s fortunate enough that you’re still on the menu, lest you’ll see him break (code) character. “i only stopped moving for like, a good 10 seconds!”

god, you’re so cute.

he wonders what’s stopping him from talking to you, really, just to pull out a few more of those reactions of yours. he can’t see you, which is practically a sin in and of itself, but the way your voice peaks, dips, or drops and rises in tone is enough for him to forgive such a misgiving.

(in that way, he can at least imagine the look on your face.)

so he’ll do anything for your eyes to stay on him, even if it means saying his lines on loop every oh so frequently.

that just means you’re thinking about him for one more moment longer, no?

scaramouche.

ivy slithers; blossoms in bloom; dewdrops in the air as dawn dips on the dot of the horizon. for a moment’s rest, an idle thought - and yet,

“there's no such thing as pure freedom in this world. even the wind cannot blow on forever.”

“there’s something else i can blow o— wait.” you cut yourself off. he doesn’t see you (as unfortunate as that is) but he feels as though you are at least slightly embarrassed.

“…i did not just say that.”

…ridiculous. really.

that’s what he thought, yes, and yet, the heat on his cheeks tells another story. it took every fiber of himself to not tip his hat to try and cover his face.

even after these few months, he still hasn’t adjusted to your… remarks, and that’s putting it very lightly. you’re practically talking to a screen, don’t you realize that? at some point you must’ve realized that. honestly.

so he says.

but, please, do keep talking (to him and him alone, of course.) only he can hear your voice - the lilts, dips, all the melodious shifts in volume - so that he can feel close and closer to you.; t’s the one and only think that makes him feel as though you’re near.

even when you’re a screen and a reality away.

xiao.

a teardrop of rain. another. and another. until it started a downpour - unrelenting, pelting. a darkness descended upon the skies that sets in a sense of unease.

“many mortals fear lightning... incomprehensible. fear of something so common.”

“stand right outside while it happens and see how loud it is, i dare you.” he slightly shivers at the tone of your voice. if he had the choice to, he would’ve kept his words to himself - alas, it is only the series of codes.

in spite of that, he feels the rain. he feels its biting touch, seeping into him, and the cold that coats him. he feels the world underneath him with every thrum of thunder, the lightning scorching patches of land that seldom felt familiar as of late.

not you though. only the sound, so strider, as it echoes within the screen.

“AAA—”

he flinches. his eyes darts to and fro, as much as he can, to at least see a source of what caused such a reaction out of nowhere. but there’s nothing.

“xiao, xiao, i didn’t mean that, i take it back, please.”

oh. so you were referring to him.

the wintry touch of the rain isn’t enough to try and cool the warmth that simmered in his skin, and he finds himself wondering how he found himself under the eyes of a god, you, that held such care and fondness for him.

then again, it’s not as though he hadn’t held any reverence to them, so perhaps the feelings are… balanced. mutual.

that’d be a bit selfish of him to assume. but it’s not as though you know, of course. these selfish, tactless feelings are for him and him alone to keep and know - not even someone like you would pry it out of him, despite it being for you.

general taglist (open!) : @yzeniko, @starz222, @haliyamori, @taokives, @tartaglia-apologist.

[ichirukilover]

I closed the door to Bl/each after the tragedy of 6/86 and briefly opened a window to LA, because well that pair is my weakness and it made me laugh how treacherously I/R it was.

So when weeks ago I saw a beautiful I/R fanart on Tik Tok (The anime came back, so the algorithm decided it was a good idea to torture me), and the response to a comment that said "They should have ended up together "was "READ THE MANGA", I was baffled. I mean, what did that mean? had I read a fake manga all those years and the "real manga" appeared Da Vinci Code-style after 2016? Was it all a Jump conspiracy? Have we been duped all this time?

That piqued my curiosity, so I wandered around several sites, reading publications from the "correct/canon/real manga" point of view; and well, you'll see even worse things the bible says.

Here are my favorites:

"The I/H was evident from the beginning, just read chapter 0": yes, because a one-shot that is a sketch of the general idea of a manga, that goes through many revisions and rewrites is absolutely determinant in the development of the main manga, and seriously, what exactly is the evidence?

"HM arc is the ultimate proof of I/H, he went to rescue her and even came back from the dead for her": well, so did her other friends and even R/enji and R/ukia, maybe they were all in love with her too. And about the resurrection...just...never mind.

"I/H are perfect for each other" Here I could do a whole essay from a psychological point of view that proves that it is an absolute fallacy and was more than clear in the FB arc, in real life they wouldn't work and would be a toxic couple. And God knows at least that boy needs therapy.

"O***ime looks like Ma/saki" * Bombastic side eye. Criminal, offensive side eye *

"O***ime deserves I/chigo”: Oh, so he was some kind of trophy for being a good girl, so it wasn't enough to objectify her, they also do the same with the boy.

"Ru/kia was a shinigami and I/chigo was a human, and she's much older than him, their relationship was impossible." *Everything but the rain entered the chat*.

"I/H fought together against Y/wach": And we all know how well they (he) did, right?

"W/D/k/A/L/Y": *sigh* that's what it looks like when you try to fix a mess and fail miserably.

"W/D/k/A/L/Y's scribble": ...

"Anime invented IR": The studio simply pushed something that was already implicit in the original material and they knew it would sell more, it's basic marketing. Most of us knew what was filler and what wasn't (rolls eyes).

And there definitely wasn't a parallel manga that magically made sense of that ending. What a disappointment.

And I/R are the delusional and lacking in compressive reading? It's so much easier to say you just don't like people ship I/R, instead of sending them to read the manga or giving lazy arguments. Pathetic.

This was long, but I just needed to vent or something, because I honestly found the whole situation absolutely hilarious.

My English is broken, so I hope I have been understood.

PS: So in my delusional mind I/R is right now enjoying his honeymoon on the beach *wink**wink*.

Blessings.

As someone that didn't leave after the ending and has seen all these "amazing points" take form and basically became the classic "IH and pro ending dudebro agenda" list, let me tell you, I was and still am baffled too. No matter how many times I read them, I still get shocked at how some really believe that bunch of BS, or better they keep repeating it untill they'll believe it.

You adressed them in a simple but direct and straight to the point way, I don't even need to add anything to what you said, agree to all of it, wait lol well maybe I could add the the pilot chapter lit has In0ue de0d at the end of it but what do we know, that doesn't seem to matter to them lol it doesn't have to make sense smh

In our delusional mind that ichiruki honeymoon on the beach is so vivid and real... I wonder why lmao

[mijh]

The heyoka (heyókȟa, also spelled "haokah," "heyokha") is a kind of sacred clown in the culture of the Sioux (Lakota and Dakota people) of the Great Plains of North America. The heyoka is a contrarian, jester, and satirist, who speaks, moves and reacts in an opposite fashion to the people around them. Only those having visions of the thunder beings of the west, the Wakíŋyaŋ, and who are recognized as such by the community, can take on the ceremonial role of the heyoka.

The Lakota medicine man, Black Elk, described himself as a heyoka, saying he had been visited as a child by the thunder beings.[1] (Thunderbirds).

The Heyókȟa is thought of as being backwards-forwards, upside-down, or contrary in nature. This manifests by their doing things backwards or unconventionally—riding a horse backwards, wearing clothes inside-out, or speaking in a backwards language. For example, if food is scarce, a heyókȟa may sit around and complain about how full he is; during a baking hot heat wave, a heyókȟa might shiver with cold and put on gloves and cover himself with a thick blanket. Similarly, when it is freezing he might wander around naked, complaining that it is too hot. A unique example is the famous heyókȟa sacred clown called "the Straighten-Outer":

He was always running around with a hammer trying to flatten round and curvy things (soup bowls, eggs, wagon wheels, etc.), thus making them straight.

— John Fire Lame Deer[2]

The heyókȟa symbolizes and portrays many aspects of the sacred beings, the Wakíŋyaŋ. His satire presents important questions by fooling around. They ask difficult questions, and say things others are too afraid to say. Their behavior poses questions as do Zen koans. By reading between the lines, the audience is able to think about things not usually thought about, or to look at things in a different way.

Principally, the heyókȟa functions both as a mirror and a teacher, using extreme behaviors to mirror others, and forcing them to examine their own doubts, fears, hatreds, and weaknesses. Heyókȟa have the power to heal emotional pain; such power comes from the experience of shame—they sing of shameful events in their lives, beg for food, and live as clowns. They provoke laughter in distressing situations of despair, and provoke fear and chaos when people feel complacent and overly secure, to keep them from taking themselves too seriously or believing they are more powerful than they are.

In addition, sacred clowns serve an important role in shaping tribal codes. Unbound by societal constraints, heyókȟa are able to violate cultural taboos freely and thus critique established customs. Paradoxically, however, by violating these norms and taboos, they help to define the accepted boundaries, rules, and societal guidelines for ethical and moral behavior. They are the only ones who can ask "Why?" about sensitive topics; they use satire to question the specialists and carriers of sacred knowledge or those in positions of power and authority.

For people who are as poor as us, who have lost everything, who had to endure so much death and sadness, laughter is a precious gift. When we were dying like flies from white man's disease, when we were driven into reservations, when the government rations did not arrive and we were starving, watching the pranks and capers of Heyókȟa were a blessing.

— John Fire Lame Deer

Only those who have had visions of the thunder beings of the west can act as heyokas. They have sacred power and they share some of this with all the people, but they do it through funny actions. When a vision comes from the thunder beings of the West, it comes with terror like a thunder storm; but when the storm of vision has passed, the world is greener and happier; for wherever the truth of vision comes upon the world, it is like a rain. The world, you see, is happier after the terror of the storm.

— Black Elk

In Lakota mythology, Heyókȟa is also a spirit of thunder and lightning. He is said to use the wind as sticks to beat the drum of thunder. His emotions are portrayed opposite the norm; he laughs when he is sad and cries when he is happy, cold makes him sweat and heat makes him shiver. In art, he is depicted as having two horns, which marks him as a hunting spirit. In some visions, he also appeared as a snow bird, a swallow, a horse, a dog, a night hawk, a frog, or a dragonfly. The Pueblo clowns (sometimes called sacred clowns) are jesters or tricksters in the Kachina religion (practiced by the Pueblo natives of the southwestern United States). It is a generic term, as there are a number of these figures in the ritual practice of the Pueblo people. Each has a unique role; belonging to separate Kivas (secret societies or confraternities) and each has a name that differs from one mesa or pueblo to another. The clowns perform monthly rituals, summer (for rain), November - for the gods, for curing society, black magic.[1]

Among the Hopi there are four distinct clowns groups, five if we include the Nata'shka and Cha'vaiyo kachinas; The Koyi'msK (also called Ta'chGktl); Chiirku'wimkya; Pai'yakyamu or Koyala; Koyi'msK (also called Ta'chGktl) and Pi'ptuyakyamii (or "arrivals").[2]

In order for a clown to perform meaningful social commentary via humor, the clown's identity must usually be concealed. The sacred clowns of the Pueblo people, however, do not employ masks but rely on body paint and head dresses. Among the best known orders of the sacred Pueblo clown is the Chiffoneti (called Payakyamu in Hopi, Kossa in the Tewa language, Koshare among the Keres people, Tabösh at Jemez, New Mexico, and Newekwe by the Zuñi). These individuals present themselves with black and white horizontal stripes painted on their bodies and faces, paint black circles around the mouth and eyes, and part their hair in the center and bind it in two bunches which stand upright on each side of the head and are trimmed with corn husks.[3]

The mudheads (called Koyemshi in Zuni, and Tatsuki in Hopi) are usually portrayed by pinkish clay coated bodies and matching cotton bag worn over the head.[4]

Anthropologists, most notably Adolf Bandelier in his 1890 book, The Delight Makers, and Elsie Clews Parsons in her Pueblo Indian Religion, have extensively studied the meaning of the Pueblo clowns and clown society in general. Bandelier notes that the Tsuku were somewhat feared by the Hopi as the source of public criticism and censure of non-Hopi like behavior. Their function can help defuse community tensions by providing their own humorous interpretation of the tribe's popular culture, by reinforcing taboos, and by communicating traditions. A 1656 case of a young Hopi man impersonating the resident Franciscan priest at Awat'ovi is thought to be a historic instance of Pueblo clowning.[5]

[comfortfrogblog]

hey! i have anxiety + adhd as well. i've seen you mention meds before, unfortunately i can't have a med change atm, it feels like my current med isn't working that well but 1 - it might be because i'm going through an intense spike of anxiety that i wasn't prepared for and 2 - my dr is out of town so i can't see him abt it. i haven't been able to sleep well and i feel nervous 24/7. is there anything that you find helpful you could mention to me? also, could you please pray for me? God bless you

oh darling honey!! yes of course i will be praying for you!♥︎i know the medication struggle all too well :( always remember you’re not alone!

i’m so sorry to hear you’re going through this anon. medicine can be really difficult when it feels like it’s not working the way it should. when i first started taking meds i always always had doubts in the back of my mind like “what if it doesn’t work?” “what if it doesn’t fix me?” “what if i’m broken?” but the thing to also remember is that you are not something to be fixed! you’re not broken at all, you just don’t feel good. you only need a bit of help getting back on your feet. when i need a med/dose change i try to remind myself of that.

i don’t know everything about your situation and i’m not a professional so i can’t provide like super mega amazing advice, but one thing i do recommend is that you just be as kind to yourself as you can right now. that sounds stupid but honestly, when i was struggling a lot this semester on bad meds, i deliberately did tiny things that made me feel comforted or at least not sad. when i woke up before school i would watch my favorite videos and eat my favorite food; i drank soda pretty often cause caffeine go brrr; i wore my favorite fun socks even though our dress code doesn’t allow it. all these things seem silly and simple, but they seriously lifted a bit of my burden day-to-day. when you are struggling, everything feels so frickin hard. and you are working so frickin hard to fight it. that makes you strong. you deserve to do small things that make you just a bit more happy, no matter how small. make time for yourself to help relieve the burden of what you are going through.

when i feel very anxious, one of my favorite things to do is turn on my favorite background noise—rain, thunderstorms, music (nintendo soundtracks :D)—and just do nothing. just exist. stare blankly into the 4th dimension. perhaps lay on the floor. eat a cracker or 2. idk why but that just uhhhh yeah :-) sometimes it feels like i can just float away and my anxieties dissipate for a few moments. doesn’t always work (because anxiety is very mean) but sometimes i just try it to see!

when i can’t sleep, my best bet is usually to do something to distract myself. preferably something like reading or drawing or playing music, but if i can’t bring myself to do any of those it’s just as okay to do something like watch a show, youtube, play video games, etc. something that helps get your mind off the anxious thoughts. you could also put your mind on God, spend some time just talking to him—whatever comes to mind, even if it’s silly. i believe he has a sense of humor :D you can be like “yo God i feel like crap right now, how you doin homie” IDK LOLSNDJ SOEMTIMES I DO THAT IDK IF THAT’S BAD

philippians 4:6-7 !!!

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

another of my favorite passages is Matthew 6:25-34. it says in a nutshell not to be anxious about your life, what to eat and drink, or about your body, what you will put on, because life is more than food or clothing. and God loves every little bird on this planet—and they don’t do very much, so just imagine how much he loves you. i happened to mark these verses when i was in like…6th grade, when i didn’t even know that i had issues with anxiety. and now that i’ve looked back on all i’ve gone through, these verses never fail to shock and comfort me.

i apologize that this ended up being so long anon!! i hope that some of it can be helpful? i will be praying for you. this road is long, but it’s worth it in the end. jesus is calling your name, he really really loves you, so much more than you could ever know. trust that he is worth it! he will guide you through the storm!!

much love anon, and God bless you!♥︎

[countessofbiscuit]

all this devotion

Shaak Ti/Rancor Squad, Mature, 2600 words, 1/2 chapters . . .

Three things are certain in life: death, the Force, and the insistence of a togruta’s heat. Stationed on Kamino, Shaak Ti can now add rain and the dedication of ARC troopers to that list. 

View all tags/warnings and read on Ao3 or find chapter 1 below the cut.

“Are you alright, General?”

The map on the viewscreen expanded. Shaak Ti stared at the dispersal of the Second Army, pointedly, more bothered than she cared to admit by how closely Blitz had chosen to stand. “Yes, Commander, quite,” she lied.

Blitz was one of the more solicitous Alphas, all of whom married intuition with professional pride in a way that said they wouldn’t want the Force even were it offered. He did not accept this untruth. “Lama Su called you mistress three times. You didn’t correct him.”

“There are battles enough, some days,” Shaak Ti said. Tackling the Prime Minister’s insistence on outdated titles was not one for today.

“And you never shy from any.” Blitz hadn’t moved, but somehow his presence grew with his confidence in being right. “You’re very hot.”

The bottom of Shaak Ti’s stomach puddled into her groin. Her stripes flushed. It was the worst thing he could have said. “Excuse me?” she demanded, finally turning to face him.

“Infrared doesn’t lie, sir.”

Shaak Ti felt incredibly exposed. Unfairly observed. She swallowed the impulse to tell him not to flag her with his senors, just as Commander Colt had firmly requested her not to flag them with the Force. Blitz was trying to be helpful. Kamino was their home, their area of responsibility. And although she was trying to be helpful, too, she was an interloper, a stranger whose character and peculiarities needed to be roundly understood in order for them to do their jobs.

And her body was candid.

It was determined to make an honest togruta out of Shaak Ti. She was more than warm. The burn was beginning. The kindling was there, dry and licked into flame by pheromones. The best air-scrubbers in the galaxy couldn’t hide some things from a predatory plains species. She’d smelt the lust on them for weeks, here in this bleached city where sterility was an art form, where nature was scoured clean. But where virility could not be controlled. Her arrival had caused a flurry of activity among the clone staff that had nothing to do with the presence of a Jedi or an outsider in their midst. It was in the unreserved awe of their deep eyes. In the damp patches on their training blacks. In the lingering ache in their wrists. Shaak Ti’s many senses had discerned it all.

Her heat was upon her, and it was inflamed. And she wasn’t in the Temple, anymore.

“Alright. I will own it.” She lowered her voice. “I’m not well, and I'll be even worse for the next day or two.”

Blitz’s helmet canted slightly to the left. He stepped even closer. “What’s wrong?”

How much I want to bite you. “That’s personal, Commander.”

“With respect, sir, we’re in a heightened state of readiness, and anything that may compromise your health — ”

“Command devolves the same.”

“If you expect to be incapacitated in any way, Commander Colt should be informed.”

Oh, please don’t name him, too. An idea was germinating in Shaak Ti’s mind, rooted in biology and matriarchal instincts — and in the kindness the command cadre had shown her when she’d stepped off that shuttle, Geonosian dust still clinging to her robes. Commanders Colt, Blitz, and Havoc had removed their helmets unbidden, in unison. They were the first fresh clone faces she’d seen, not bloodied or twisted in agony. And they were very handsome.

On Shili, she would’ve had a harem to protect and cherish and serve. And who would have served her in turn —

She banished the thought before she flared whiter in Blitz’s HUD.

The Council had sent her here that she might grow confident in her ability to teach and nurture success once again. To oversee a programme she feared rife with ethical abuse. To counsel the Kaminoans on sapient integrity and encourage them to regard the clones as something more than product. She was not here to satisfy herself with her subordinates, singly or otherwise.

She was a Jedi Master. If she couldn’t master herself in this, after all these years, how could she claim mastery of the Force that flowed through her? A Jedi had to rise above base needs — and be humble enough to admit problems and devise solutions with peers. Historically, the solution to this issue involved much meditation and a temporary relocation to a sealed chamber at the distant end of the itinerants’ hall.

Shaak Ti returned her attention to the commander still lingering with unnerving focus. “Fine. I will inform him.”

“Fine,” clipped Blitz. “Thank you, Mistress Ti.” He turned heel and left her gaping at his nerve.

And at the sway of his patterned kama below his belt. And the subtle smell of rain-damp wood he left behind him.

Later, when the ache between her legs gnawed at her brain, Shaak Ti hurried to the medbay to beg soporifics from a droid. A familiar lightness had set into her limbs, as her inguinal organs sponged up blood. Her awareness tunnelled. It became harder to hold onto the serenity of the Force — it was sensitive and slippery like that, like trying to grip a current of water. Existing in the moment, too, demanded great effort. She had to concentrate on exchanging a cold nod with Hina Me, on acknowledging the waist-high salutes of a cadet company, their backs straight against the bowed walls.

Shaak Ti finally reached her room. Tipoca City wasn’t warm, and still she blasted the air cooler in the colorless, compact space, made larger by the transparisteel wall that overlooked the ocean; a meditation stool, Fe’s beads, some cacti from the Temple Gardens — a reminder of rain’s blessing, not its ubiquity — formed the sum of its personal effects. She began to strip with trembling hands.

Maturation brought much relief. Her biannual cycles weren’t as long, nor dangerous; she’d been in the habit of meditating her way through them, though she always crashed afterwards, bandwidth of mind and body maxed out. When that failed, downers, a device, and some do-not-disturb instructions could set her right after a day or three. That would be her method here, where the Force flowed thinly and the air was thick with androgens.

Commander Colt was not told. Not explicitly. As her tool warmed in the nanowave, Shaak Ti fired off a simple message to him: she was seriously unwell, and he was to consider himself in temporary command of the Grand Army stationed on Kamino, along with its reserves and training facilities. She was on comms for emergencies, but was not to be physically disturbed for love or credits.

Alphas were headstrong. They were never satisfied when they’d found the end of a problem; they had to pull it up by the roots with both hands and ask the grass why it grew. She had come to appreciate this about them. Her respect had been earned three, four, five times over by their blistering competence that ran circles around her own sluggish climb up the learning curve.

But when they knocked on her door just as the nanowave dinged, Shaak Ti wished she’d never met them at all.

There were two of them. They had moved in step down the quiet hall, but her montrals weren’t fooled, picking up the mass of their footfalls. The Force practically shouted their signatures. Blitz she knew best: cool and supple, yet columnar, like the limb of some great, unseen god; and Havoc, gritty and shifting, the scree slope of a mountain. Shaak Ti had the disconcerting feeling that they could smell her — not in any conscious way, like she could smell them. Just enough that it reinforced a need to roam in pairs, which they never did. It was Havoc’s shift now. But it wasn’t her place to question their duty rostering, just as it wasn’t his place to come here as shift commander and order her from her quarters. Only the Prime Minister could do that.

“Sir, Commander Colt insists we escort you to the medbay.” Blitz’s voice was full and clear, without the canniness of a helmet.

Shaak Ti frowned. “My compliments to the Commander, but that’s not necessary,” she said, affecting an authority she didn’t feel. She felt drunk. It was a heavy intoxication that sagged in her lekku, not the giddiness that bubbled in her tips after one too many passes at the punchbowl.

The silence was mighty. If they were discussing next steps, it was in handsign.

“We know,” Blitz finally replied. “We’re here to help.”

Shaak Ti stood stunned, keeping her distance from the door. She would not open it. But she called her shimmersilk robe to hand, all the same.

Jango Fett, the Clone Template, their progenitor, had ordered the Alphas to obey and serve the Jedi. That was their prime directive. Shaak Ti wasn’t even sure what oath they’d taken, if any. But she was bound by many things; she’d spent nights committing the Republic Code of Military Justice to memory. Ill-treatment of subordinates and misapplication of service property came presently to mind. If she accepted their help, they would ask all manner of questions and seek her direction and would be bound to comply. It would not be right.

She gathered herself against the want clamoring in her body. “I’ve made myself clear, gentlemen. No assistance is needed. Medical or otherwise. Goodnight.”

Blitz spoke up again. “With respect, sir, we know about your condition — ”

“We may be Alpha planks, sir,” Havoc cut in, “but we can read. And you’re a textbook example of a togruta in estrus.”

Shaak Ti stifled a mewl in her fist. She hadn’t made a noise like that since her feral teenage years. She sagged against the wall. How did they ... ? It wasn’t a secret phenomenon, true — as mundane as any bodily function, really. But they had conspired! They had bored a peephole into her life. For the second time that day, she felt rudely observed.

It was, however, rather rich to be affronted by that, when she’d come here to oversee, monitor, inspect and otherwise snoop.

“Let us help you, sir. Isn’t it better that way?” Blitz offered.

So much better: gorged on pleasure, in throbbing harmony with all life, magnified by her own gifts. She’d done it once, with a clan on Shili during her maturation rites. It’d been almost enough to sway her from a different kind of service, as she’d lain there, an open vessel for every feeling, carnal and uncomplicated.

These men were under no duress, not in this moment. They were consenting, volunteering freely. Outside of Shili, no one had done that for her before, not even fellow knights; certainly no masters, even when she’d reached their ranks. Was it not a honor to the Force, to offer a kindness unbidden to someone in need? It would be over sooner, too: just a standard day, if they kept up the pace. She was well-matured and no longer in the prime of reproductive life. And there was more of them, in every sense ...

Shaak Ti’s hand had slithered between her legs, fingering into her wetness. She didn’t have to imagine how big they’d be. With the height of scientific pride and the depths of indelicacy, Hina Me had paraded four naked clones before her, one of each patented Fett type, bemoaning that she had no sample from their first test batch, for though deranged, the viable half had been remarkable specimens of human physicality. Their statures differed subtly, but Shaak Ti couldn’t help noticing that they were uniformly well-endowed. All eyes front, but only the Alpha clone had met hers, deliberate and defiant. Asking his name seemed inappropriate, and her embarrassment had only compounded with time, to still not know which officer had been made to endure that humiliation.

Had it been one of hers who thickened before her, until he hung heavy in her peripheral — ?

Shaak Ti squeezed her eyes shut. She skirted around her bed to the far corner of her room, under the cooling air duct, and stared out at the roiling deep. The silk glued to her, dampening with her heat. It would be fouled. So much the better, perhaps: it was a strange and shameful gift from Halle Burtoni.

“You cannot help,” she said, more to her reflection than to the men in the hall. What would her peers say? The opinion of the Kaminoans didn’t concern her, but they would surely go red in the fin and sniff at her. “I am responsible for you. As a — ” She didn’t want to say Jedi. It seemed unfair. A brevetship of chance, when they were more capable in many respects. “A representative of the Republic.”

“An administrative detail,” Blitz countered. “We were no one’s responsibility until you came along.”

Heat surged down her lekku. The primal excitement of a threat. “You question my authority?” Her white brow scowled back at her in the pane. Fett might have ordered them to obey, but had clearly said nothing about holding their tongues; they took grumbling and constructive criticism as an act of religion.

“No, sir. We respect it,” said Blitz. “Just as we respect your ability to act responsibly towards us when this is all over. Do you think we can’t do the same?”

Surely this constituted some form of entrapment. But Shaak Ti couldn’t find the logic to argue. Not when she felt like a besh with a body attached. “I cannot ask this of you,” she said. When the silence stretched, she realized she’d whispered it to the waves. She repeated herself, louder. “I cannot ask this of you.”

“You aren’t,” Blitz clarified for the record. “We’re offering.”

Havoc spoke up. “Honestly, sir, you’d be doing Blitz a favor. He’s been rutting into his cod ever since you got here.”

Shaak Ti wheeled round, lekku spinning, feeling the pressure wave of something imminent.

Then came the thunderclap of armor against the door. A scuffling ensued. They were fighting. Something absolutely unheard of in togruta males, and it was not attractive. At the same time, it was also potentially embarrassing for everyone involved in this bizarre negotiation.

If only her door had been locked from without, too. It was altogether too easy for Shaak Ti to slide it open with a flick of her wrist, allowing two clone officers to stumble into her room and out of sight.

Blitz and Havoc clipped halfway to attention in their confusion, shuffling their helmets under their arms. Their pauldrons kissing, their eyes not diverted. They looked surprised — youthful, like two Padawans whose Force antics had granted them access to the larder.

Or maybe that was her.

The room was suddenly so much smaller. Suffused with their scent, too: musky, undisguised, and mouthwatering.

Shaak Ti's loneliness burst its buried dam. She worked in separation, she lived in isolation. Nala Se was courteous, as welcoming as any Kaminoan could be, but she was not a fellow master. There was no community here that she might join. There were the troops and there were the natives with their rigid caste system. She understood a cadre of off-world trainers had lived here alongside the Prime Clone, but his death and the outbreak of the war apparently ended their contracts; a handful remained in the Special Operations wing, but they were Mandalorians — they made the Kaminoans look friendly.

These persistent men had changed everything. They’d just shifted the center of gravity. Shaak Ti’s every thought rolled down into her besh, hungrily. She needed to consume and be consumed.

She let her robe slip, giving in, only if for a night.

[phati-sari]

Hello Phati Sari. I asked the question about the suicide attempt. And I just saw the answers about Arnav’s abuse. That is what I am getting at. I feel like he reflected on his feelings for Khushi and realized her innocent or not didn’t matter because he loved her. But I’m not sure he ever reflected on how his actions drove her to the state of mind where she would carefully plan a suicide based on the reasons she gave. And jumping from a one story building could have caused multiple broken bones.

This continues my earlier ask. Couldn’t type anymore. Besides broken bones, head injuries and lacerations could occur. I am at a disadvantage because I don’t speak Hindi so depend on blogs for translation and analysis sometimes. He does say sorry on the way to remarriage but in the light of the real abuse he did I am not sure it showed effectively enough his understanding of that. I just discovered the rewinds where he reflects and I understand he does show it there sometimes but I can find no

To continue. Sorry so long. I can find no English translations for his dialogs in the rewinds. Is there a place you know where some might be available or can you throw some light on pieces of his dialog that shows some deeper understanding of how his actions were abusive and he takes ownership for that abuse aside from Khushi letting him off the hook because she knows he loves her and her tears hurt him too. Sorry that isn’t enough for understanding even in fiction. Please edit ask if need. Than

Hello!

Firstly, I have to say that I think I’ve answered your question already. I realise it was not to your satisfaction, but in my mind I’ve already given my answer. I’m going to answer using specific quotes from your ask to make this a little easier because I think you’re actually asking a different question entirely.

But I’m not sure he ever reflected on how his actions drove her to the state of mind where she would carefully plan a suicide based on the reasons she gave.

But explicitly on-screen, no.

And jumping from a one story building could have caused multiple broken bones. Besides broken bones, head injuries and lacerations could occur.

Well yeah, I wasn’t minimising what could’ve happened. Your earlier question, however, explicitly asked whether Arnav could chalk it up to drama, and I said he could. 

That you didn’t like the answer doesn’t change my outlook -- yes the outcome could’ve been serious but a man who thinks he was duped by this woman’s faux innocence, that she was always trying to entrap or confuse him, could absolutely have come to the conclusion that she was faking her attempt at suicide because she wanted something from him.

To clarify, I’ve never thought her attempt was anything but serious, and have written essays about how much I disagreed with the track being given a comedic treatment.

I just discovered the rewinds where he reflects and I understand he does show it there sometimes

Does he though? I mean, Arnav spends most of his time spouting poetry in the Rewind, not genuinely reflecting on his behaviour. I’ll admit to my bias -- both EJ and Rewind strike me as out-of-character bullshit that I enjoy if the mood strikes me, but they’re not canon in my eyes.

Is there a place you know where some might be available or can you throw some light on pieces of his dialog that shows some deeper understanding of how his actions were abusive and he takes ownership for that abuse aside from Khushi letting him off the hook because she knows he loves her and her tears hurt him too

You’re not going to find this in the canon. I’m sorry, I understand why you’re looking for it, really I do. The closest we get are vague statements in EJ and in the Rewind. 

(This turned into a bit of a live-blog on the Rewind.)

In Episode 1 of the Rewind, Arnav reflects on their first meeting. He says that he was angry at Khushi because his show was ruined. He says that he rained upon her like lava. (Lava?? That’s taken straight from fanfiction my God.)

Arnav: “Aaj yaad karta hoon toh lagta hai ki kitna bura bartaav kiya maine uske saath uss din.” -- When I think about it now, I think of how badly I behaved with her that day. 

He admits to wrongdoing but as it immediately follows a justification, I’m not convinced it’s particularly reflective or deep. He always knew he was wrong -- the countless flashbacks to this meeting showed this in the canon.

In Episode 2, when he talks about the release of the video footage, Arnav smilingly tells the camera that he didn’t realise it would ~complicate~ Khushi’s life so much. This one action invited Shyam into her life and he smiles while he recalls it???

Ugh, this is the episode with the naaaaaavvvvvvv. Naaaaaaaavvvv. Fuck me dead I hate the Rewind so much, anon you’d better send me loads of virtual potatoes for this!

Episode 3, in which Arnav reduces his abuse of the employer-employee relationship with Khushi to a video game in which one has to defeat their opponent.

At least she apparently took the raksha bandhan seriously.

OH MY GOD THE MUG I’D FORGOTTEN THE MUG, BLISSFULLY WIPED IT FROM MY MEMORY. MY EYES. MY EEYYYEEESSS.

In Episode 6, Arnav admits he feels guilty when he thinks of the things he said and made Khushi do on the night of the photoshoot. His punishment is taking his wife to eat parathas -- a punishment Arnav admits is inadequate because he made so many mistakes.

In Episode 7, Arnav admits that regrets many of his decisions in his and Khushi’s story. But he hedges, saying that his mind wasn’t listening to his heart at the time. And then tries to justify his anger by bringing up that she told everyone about Lavanya.

In Episode 8, Arnav says that he gets goosebumps when he thinks about something happening to Khushi at the guesthouse. He says he still gets tears in his eyes when he thinks about how her arm was hurt. And yet, no examination of physical abuse.

In Episode 9, he admits that he’d crossed too many lines and Khushi’s anger was justified when she resigned. He admits that he made her life miserable, that he was “torturing” her. He says that he’d never send her where her life was in danger, though, and that she was wrong in saying that.

Ahh I’d totally spaced on him saying that he’d heard his dhak-dhak for the first time on Teej. 

In Episode 14, Arnav reiterates that he regrets how he treated Khushi, and he wishes they knew what they know now: that they were falling in love.

And then Arnav disappears from the Rewind. His behaviour in the contract marriage and beyond is not reflected on.

I’m not seeing anything in the Rewind that constitutes Arnav showing a deeper understanding of his abusive behaviour and taking ownership of it and its influence on Khushi. I mean, it’s there in the edges of what he says, but it’s not actually what he says. And what he says was always in the serial -- in his monologues, in his flashbacks, in his moments of introspection. It should not be news to anyone.

When I say IPKKND is set in a fantasy world where Arnav’s behaviour is not coded as abusive, I don’t mean and so we shouldn’t examine it through that lense. I mean that the characters will not admit to it being abuse any more than Aragorn is going to comment on the lack of women in LOTR or Aslan is going to say “I’m actually Jesus.” The conclusion that his behaviour is abusive is external to the serial, internally he’s driven by the trauma of the Tragedy and has the blessing of Devi Maiyya.

And so, there is no examination -- internally -- of this behaviour. Even in Lavanya’s case, Arnav never mentions the gross power imbalance and her ready acceptance of his abuse as reasons for the breakup. The show is silent on the topic (though my recaps aren’t) and the audience is left with the genuinely absurd idea that it was about how he didn’t love her. It wasn’t -- he knew he didn’t love her when they first broke up lol. It was about their interaction at the poolside where she admitted he’d never been nice to her. Ever. And that she just accepted as it as a given in their dynamic. Even in the Rewind, Arnav emphasizes that he didn’t love Lavanya, that he only saw her as a friend, instead of admitting he was emotionally abusive.

Coming back to Arnav’s reflection -- Arnav always, always, will be able to justify his point of view. Everyone is the Hero in their own story -- the entire thrust of this blog is to show that.

Now, I don’t need Arnav to say he was abusive -- I know he was, but I also think the redemption he was offered in the serial was fine (I’m qhsahil in that exchange, but I reckon you will agree with the others). I think it was in keeping with the characters shown in the serial and I have absolutely no desire to see any come-upperance or vengeance on Khushi’s behalf.

In conclusion, I get where you’re coming from, and I even understand why you want to see him say and admit these things, but I disagree that we see (or ever will see) them in the canon, or that we even need them in general.

Thanks for asking!

[ultrahamilham]

You tagged me in a thing and I had a stroke, bless you

I get all Pikachu meme whenever I see you in my dash and you've referred to me and acknowledged my existence because it is literally the best thing ever, I have a mini stroke every time

Three ships: Jamilton, Jamilams and Jamilmads (would've said lams but then it just sounds like I'm saying the same ship in three different ways lol)

Last song: Uhh, I don't listen to music much, but Ultimately by Khai dreams

Last movie: The Hunchback of Notre dame

Currently craving: Sushi, oddly enough (I haven't had it in about nine years but still, want)

Currently reading: The Da Vinci code, and about five different fanfictions

About a very late answer to your question (My family has COVID, which is shocking to hear, or so I'm told, but they're recovering and they fortunately had a mild case and no one has any history of disease so they're going to be okay! That's what the doctor said and I'm praying), Taco hell made me laugh really hard when I read it and really lifted my spirits because I remember being in not a great place when I started it but it made me smile which was like, a thing for me, and don't judge me but I think The three way was probably my favourite and I don't want to think about what that says about me but it was really because I love works that are that long (around 50k is always my sweet spot). I'm not sure if I'm remembering right and I'm so so sorry if I'm getting the title song wrong but that one Jamilton fic with uh, Gucci and fendi in the title was really fun to read ;-;

I also remeber the first work of yours I ever read was this comfort Whamilton around 1.5 or 2k where it starts raining and Alexander is on edge but George comforts him- Okay, I'm ranting now, apologies. ;-; (idk You're super cool and I want to talk to you like, normally, but you'll hateee me and I don't want that and so here)

I never really get a chance to respond as soon as I'd like, BUT I never get to and if you don't want to know/care about my life- please skip to the next paragraph thank you. So, I did end up watching Snowpiercer! I watched all ten episodes in one day which is iffy to say the least, but I'm still alive! I did love it. And I've been alright- a bit anxious with everything, but I've been giving my tests and uni and stuff. Yesterday, I was about to go to the vet when u realised about two minutes into the ride that I forgot my dog so that was embarrassing. Almost competing with the time I dropped my phone and then followed it, dropping to my knees and immediately bursting into tears (Nothing even happened to my phone!). So if you read this, thank you again.

I wanted to ask how you were doing too! If you don't mind xxx

And as for the fanfic writer asks, would you mind answering 50 ;-;

Wgjfvqkcwkh also I heard about you and Henni getting married so CONGRATULATIONS that is the most amazing, sweetest thing and in honestly so f*cking happy for both of you. I audibly awwed when I saw that post and I can't believe I just remembered.

I'm so sorry this got out of hand with how long it is, I didn't mean for it to be ;-;

-shy anon, sincerely apologising for possibly ruining your day by oversharing and/or overstepping (also with love and congratulations for you and her)

I get the surprised pikachu face whenever you show up in my ask box ;-; It always makes me happy!!!

Okay but sushi is always good. The craving comes randomly for me as well. I didn’t crave it at all when I used to make it for a living, because I got so tired of it, but now I crave it every once in a while lol it’s really good ;-;

I really hope everyone is doing okay! COVID is scary and it’s no joke. Having it before was horrible for me and I would never wish it on anyone. I hope everyone including you is okay ;-;

I’m glad Taco Hell did what I was meaning for it to do! It’s meant to be lighthearted and make people laugh. It’s based off of my life and it’s actual situations I end up in all the time. It’s quite amusing lol

I would never judge you. The Three Way is literally the one fic I am most proud of. I could never judge you. I literally go back and read it every once in a while and go like “I made that... Holy fuck...”

Oh! Gucci Not Fendi is the title. I’m glad you liked it!!!

Rant all you want! I adore that Whamilton fic ;-;

Seriously, my dear, I can promise you that I won’t hate you at all. Believe me, I really won’t. I’m probably the most awkward and annoying person anyone will ever know and I overshare like everything. People know more about me than they really should.. Lol

I care about your life, I was the one that asked you to tell me! But honestly, snowpiercer was soooo good... Like I tried to binge it all in one day but I was trying to write as well and it didn’t go over well lmao, snowpiercer ended up winning! I’m really glad you watched it!!!

That whole forgetting your dog thing is a mood. Today I forgot to turn on the food heaters and I realized it right before it was too late. Almost lost $200 worth of meat... Oops... Lmao

I do that with my phone if I drop it even if it’s okay. I just freak the fuck out and cry before I know if there really is an issue

Also I’m doing good! I decided to just lay back and relax tonight so I’m having a few drinks and I’m gonna watch random shit lol I was up for 33 hours the night before last and slept for 15 hours after. I can’t recommend doing that, especially not when you’re like 24. I’m too old for that shit.

Hell yeah I can do 50! I will give you a sneak peak at the 3rd part of the three way... .-. It will be posted on Oct 19th!!!

Here it is. This is seriously NSFW lol:

Alexander looked down at Thomas and ran the fingers of his free hand through Thomas' hair. He licked his lips as he watched Thomas work his tongue expertly inside George. "You're such a good boy Thomas, you're already wrecking him." He purred. 

Thomas let out a low moan and kept up the work, getting a little more aggressive. Alexander could feel himself getting hard in his pants at the sight coupled with George's shameless moans. Alexander looked back at George's face and grinned a bit. "Are you proud of us, Daddy?" He asked. 

George pressed his forehead against the headrest and panted as Thomas wrecked him. He tried to push back against Thomas to no avail. "Fuck… Y-yes… Yes you two did so good… Please… Please do as you wish… Whatever you choose, do it… I will take whatever you give me, you de-deserve it…" George bit out desperately.

Alexander grinned in delight at that. He looked at Thomas who looked just as excited from what George just said. He then touched Thomas' shoulder. "Alright, that's enough babe. I'm going to stretch him, then we can give him a good spanking. Why don't you undress for me? I have a little treat for you." He purred.  -END of the preview.

Thank you so much! We are so freaking happy that it’s happening. We were planning it more today! It’s so amazing ugh.

I appreciate it all the same! It’s not too long for me at all!! Don’t you worry my dear <3 you didn’t overstep at all!

[jakattax]

I was a lucky kid growing up, my family were largely bohemian and didn’t really pressure me at all to fall into a particular crowd or scene. For the most part I was left to decide my own hobbies and interests, which I feel as a working class northerner is an oddity. I was largely uninterested with anything considered the norm, I found the perception of normality to be terribly boring. I lived in my own mind, fuelled by my still present wild and colourful imagination, and nothing fuelled my imagination more than the idea of magic. Films like the ‘Wizard of Oz’ and ‘Excalibur’ were Bible to me, any media with witches, wizards and sorcerers utterly enamoured thing. I believe this fundamental obsession revolves around the concept of power, that these mystical men and women could achieve the impossible and bend reality by possessing a power that no hero-knight or any other could possess. The wizard or witch was a solitary creature, usually ostracised or eccentric, both qualities I possessed as a child. And so it was a common pastime for me to find the best stick that would act as my staff and to jump around the woods pretending to be Gandalf. I knew that magic could only ever exist in my own imagination and I stuck to this falsehood for many years. After a trip to the goth haven of Whitby with my grandparents, I realised that magic was very much real and was not limited to book, screen or my own closed mind. I bought a hazel wand (inscribed with ‘Blessed Be’ in futhark) from a Wicca supply shop and my first book of magic. This book of shadows was my prized object, with only the media portrayal of magic at my disposal I knew that every enchanter possessed their own book of spells, while mine wasn’t bound in human skin and written in odd runes, it was magic, real magic. Another very vivid memory was that a bought a handsome besom from the same shop, a gorgeous birch broomstick wrapped in colour silk, and so on our trip to the north York moors I placed the broom between my legs and jumped up and down over the heather. Alas I did not fly. Only in my mind.

Wicca was truly my gateway into my magical studies, even though I was very young I had absolute conviction that magic was very much real and tangible, I even recall having a particular fondness for a rain spell which seemed to work without fail. Naturally my new obsession with real magic just pushed me further from the grain of normality, thank God. Yet the older I got I started to become disenchanted. Like all teenagers I went through a period of abandoning childhood fantasies to focus on my image or popularity. Who I socialised with and how I looked over-rided any past passions. It is something I feel remarkably ashamed over, yet adolescence is a period in life in which one wears many masks for the sake of an easy time, even though I was bullied none the less for my bookish and overall weak disposition. But no-one could know I use to dress up in a pointy hat and make it rain. I killed that part of my childhood. This abandonment of magic continued until I was 16.

I was now in college and was the worst sycophant to a particular friend who I followed blindly. He was the coolest kid in college, a Casanova, I was discovering my own sexuality and realised too that I was deeply in love with him. Again I was sacrificing my core personality, but not for long. I was a theatre kid, and bloody good at it too, our first year assessment was based on the performance of a classical monologue. Know I don’t know exactly how I decided on it, or how I even knew of it, but I settled on Marlowe’s ‘Doctor Faustus’ to perform. I was a committed and serious young actor, finally in s subject that I cared for and excelled in so I conducted research into how i wanted to stage the piece. In my mind I wanted the stage littered in books and scraps of paper all bearing occult symbols, yet I didn’t know any. I didn’t want to cheapen the performance by having blank scraps of paper, they needed to be Faustus’ magical and alchemical work, so I used the library computer to find some.

And the gates opened.

Like a child again I was reading about magic, real magic again but this time I found a new mindset. In my research looking up Occult symbols to litter my set with, I came across a name, a name steeped in controversy to this day, the wickedest man in the world; Aleister Crowley. Reading up on Crowley and MacGregor Mathers brought me to a new and dangerous form of magic, the magic of the ceremonial magician. While indeed Wiccans and witches take their art and practise very seriously, there was something about the strict Methodology and science like nature of ceremonial magic that appealed to me more. Changing the weather was great and all but demon conjuration? Intricate magic circles and glyphs? Spirit evocation? Yes please, this was the magic that I wanted. And so I purchased my first Grimoire of ceremonial magic, the Ars Goetia.

This was a book I carried with pride, it was a conversation starter, I was the kid who studied demons. My image had changed after my then best friend moved to university, gone was the preppy and popular false Jack, now was the time for a brooding, dark clothed Jack who read Shelley, Byron and books of demon summoning in his spare time. To be frank it’s not a phase I’ve quite broken yet either.

As enamoured as I was by the Ars Goetia, I was no fool, I knew that in terms of practicality it was something I could not attempt, yet. The magic was complex, the tools seemed impossible to acquire and so I sat on my grand schemes of being a conjured per excellence, yet the flames in my mind were raging.

Three years later I moved to Nottingham for my university education, wonderful city. for the first time in my life I was with strangers who had no preconceived notions about me. I could wear a new mask. Yet I chose the hard path, I was at university so one should act as a university don should, I bought tweed suits from charity shops, wore a bow tie and started to smoke a pipe. I found rebellion by not being normal, fuck normality, the new Jack would never bow down to popularity again. I call my university years some of the darkest of my life, not only because of the daily cocktails of alcohol, drugs and severe bouts of depression but because these were the years in which I honed my craft as a goete.

I had the good fortune of renting flats with basements and because my flatmates were dull football types brainwashed by heteronormative coding, they were naturally scared of it and didn’t go down there. And as horribly cliched and Hollywood as it is, I began conjuring demons in the basement. Even though I had been studying the Goetia for a few years now, I still lacked pretty much everything needed, other than my own conviction. I used chalk for my circle and triangle of art, candles for mood lighting and some sticks of incense and began conversing to the shadows. The crazy thing is, the shadows spoke back. I knew that I had the crossed a threshold in which there was no return, while I had achieved magic with fairly simple effects, now I had truly pierced the veil and was openly seeing, speaking and listening to demons. The glass of reality had cracked, I was in a new world in which magic was the only truth. I had demon spirits perform many many tasks for me, some failed, some excelled. I tried to hone in my skills, realise mistakes and amend them. Then I started branching out, with my knowledge increasing I came into contact with more books, more new information and magic to discover; the Verum, the Cyprian texts, Agrippa, Abra-Melin etc. Etc.

Yet this was closeted. While I was unashamedly eccentric, I had too much against me as a gay man and an oddity. I suffered extreme bullying again and thanks to my depression made a suicide attempt, if anyone knew I was in the basement ordering demons to attack those who wronged me, it would be fatal to me. Or so I thought. The layman perceives magic as nonsense, Harry Potter glitter Magic that simply isn’t real and if you believe in it you either have too many cats or are just delusional. They do not understand that magic and only magic is the highest form of science there is, the microscope or telescope can see hidden things that the eye cannot yet so can a scrying ball. For all the wonders that science can perform and demonstrate, it cannot lift the eyelids on the falsehoods of reality, only through magic can we truly see between the lines and realise that the mundane world is shrouded in mysteries that only magic can answer. And so due to this fear of being stigmatised, I kept my magic a secret.

For the best part of a decade I studied and practised Ceremonial magic in private. Whenever my parents or housemates we’re out I’d grab my tools and begin my work. My library was growing, my collection of magical tools too, I was growing and flowering into a proficient 21st century Magus. Then two years ago I decided fuck it. I was tired of keeping a fundamental part of my spiritual beliefs and occult practises silent and so I outed myself as a ceremonial magician. Not to much fanfare however, everyone seemed largely indifferent, probably just another one of jack’s eccentricities. But no, magic is no hobby, no idle pastime or frivolity to me, magic is in my Veins and every breath, it is my true calling in life to study, explore and understand my place in this world through the Occult sciences. I am a magician who can charm you or tear you to pieces just as easily, I live in a demimonde of illusion, I achieve the impossible.

When you sit before the scrying glass and see a spirit looking into your eyes, you must reject all notions of a normal reality and accept wholeheartedly that magic is real.

[tora-the-cat]

Baby Rin & Obito thoughts

-I don’t think people understand what it means that Obito and Rin were best friends since they were 5. Like. I just get the vibe that half the fandom can’t conceptualize that accurately.

-(I can though)

-5. 5! They were actual babies!

-When they’re super young and obviously pre-transitioned they still would steal each others clothes and try to confuse people over who’s who, like identical twins.

-They were child soldiers growing up during the war! By all likelihoods, they were drafted into the academy at all of 5 years old. They graduated at 10! Obito wasn’t seen as a ‘genius’ by any stretch of imagination, so we can only assume this was the common graduating age during the 3rd war. How much more harsh is the curriculum? How much more traumatizing? Paranoia inducing? propagandist?

-Me and my best friend since 5 both had relatively healthy home lives, none of the ninja brand trauma, and we STILL ended up basically codependent. These poor kids had no chance.

-There’s no way these two aren’t in each others pocket. Was there a single secret between the two of them? One topic that was forbidden? Probably not! To Both!

-the two of them could hold entire conversations, arguments, lectures, in a matter of moments with just micro-expressions. It often seemed that the only time Obito would shut up was when he and Rin were staring at each other and their faces would twitch, sometimes for minutes on end, as if that was as natural a way of communicating as speaking.

-It was very useful on covert operations! It was very frustrating during team building exersises, because neither of them were really used to trying to actaully get closer to people besides eachother.

-they had so many in-jokes that Minato and Kakashi sometimes thought they were speaking another language entirely. 

-Every time there was a foldable chair in Rin’s sight, she would obnoxiously clear her throat and shoot it meaningful looks, and Obito would seethe, looking seconds away from blowing up, but never would and never explained why.  

-Obito would dramatically throw himself in front of Rin and shout about protecting her whenever he spotted a squirrel, and act completely confused and annoyed when Minato and Kakashi didn’t acknowledge the threat and take it seriously. 

-Obito would collect four leaf clovers whenever he saw them and then when he braided Rin’s hair for her he’d weave them into it without her even noticing until hours or, on particularly hard missions, days later. Still, everytime she found one, no matter how bad the mission or the horrors she had just seen or was on her way to see, she would pick it out with more care then Kakashi knew anything could be done and gave it a look so soft it made Kakashi inexplicably angry and she'd smile, like it was the easiest thing to do, and her haunted eyes would clear just a little as she snuck them into Obito’s Kunai pouch.

-It was impossible to get one alone without the other. They orbited around each other, never further then a shout away, Joined at the hip. 

-They were always touching, be it the common hand holding, or Obito whining and hanging off of Rin, or Rin reprimanding him and squeezing his shoulders, or them dragging each other around the village, or Rin poking Obito in the nose to make him scrunch it up, or Obito squshing Rin’s cheeks until she stops pretending to ignore him or touching foreheads and promising everything will be alright or playing intricate handgames at recess because no one else will play with them or tapping out messages in their own mortified morse code or- it could go on forever. It should have.

-Do Not Mistake Their Undying Dependency On Each Other As A Lack Of The Ablity To Throw Hands, however. They would roughhouse, and they were visious. They would bite and pull hair and pinch and get close to each others ears to make high pitched noises and tickle and tumble on the dirt. They didn’t even need a real reason- or at least not one Minato could see. There would be a glint in one of their eyes, and then a flash of fear in the other’s, and it would start with no further warning.

-It didn’t matter where, it didn’t matter when. In public. At dinner. While Minato is in the middle of talking. Rain, snow, hail. Usually not on missions, thankfully, but worryingly often on the way back from missions. Kakashi still breaks into an anxious cold sweat everytime he goes to Suna, a ghost of the memory of the first time Obito and Rin saw the dessert remembered with surprising clarity. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

-Like wolf pups, Minato once said, and Kakashi didn’t talk to him for a week- wolves would never be so undignified. Rin would lick Obito to throw him off and Obito would use his inhumanely boney elbows to stab her (weapons were always discarded for these scruff- they weren’t spars, they were personal) and she would fling dirt into his mouth and he would spit it back into her eyes. They were disgusting. 

-If they worked together and fought half as dirty with Kakashi as they did with eachother, he would have had a bad time. But, somehow, there was just. Something that made them go rabid on each other in a way Minato was never able to fully provoke in them, even mid-war.

-(it’s the Cain Instinct.)

-They were of the naive but firm belief that they would never be without the other, and, horrifically, most could see it was true. Not because they were strong or because the world was too kind to kill one and leave the other- it was just so blatantly obvious that, should one of them leave, the other would follow without hesitation.

-Even Minato was resigned to the fact that if one of them died the other was just a ticking time bomb, despite all his efforts.

-(and he did make an effort. He knew there was a slim chance their story would end well, the way it was. Knew that codependent shinobi were liabilities. He tried to get them to spend time alone and practice more bounderies and make connections outside of each other, but it rarely worked and never for long. They got anxious and twitchy alone, constantly worried about the other. Obito reapplied Rin’s seals when she couldn’t and Rin taught him to get away with petty revenges, and they were all each other had.)

-But, because of this, they were convinced that if one of them was good at something the other didn’t really need to bother with it- expended effort, when they’re both right there anyway. Unless it was fun to practice together, of course, mostly encompassing Taijutsu. 

-Rin did Fuinjutsu, Obito did Genjutsu. Rin started Iryouninjutsu, Obito started Kenjutsu. Rin practiced Suiton and Raiton, Obito practiced Katon and Doton. they balanced each other out, kept each other grounded- they completed each other. It felt like they only had each other, more often then not, and sometimes it was true.

-When they were younger, it was always true. They were both orphans by 7. Rin’s mom died in childbirth, her dad stayed around long enough to teach her how to stay alive and how her Kekkei Genkai worked as far as he could remember, but She was a born citizen of Konoha and the village wouldn’t let go of a potential asset, and he couldn’t stay in the village that let his village get destroyed and his wife die. He left her. Obito’s parents were both Shinobi that disappeared mysteriously and were never seen again.

-Gran tried, but she was old and blind and could barely remember Obito half the time. In the end, it was the two of them against the world.

-The Uchiha didn’t care, besides the minor annoyance at Rin entering their compound so often, but. She was Uzushio, and the clan heads were close to the Uzumaki, which basically meant they weren’t allowed to bully an Uzushio clan kid. Obito’s Gran was just happy he had a friend. 

-Rin remembered something her Dad told her, and gives Obito a Nohara Seal-Tattoo on the inside of his right wrist, making him an honorary member by the laws of her clan that doesn’t really exist anymore and has literally no significance or benefit in the village. He cries anyway.

-They pretty much always sleep together. Sleepovers are nightly by the time they turn 8. by the time they’re 9, they make a paranoid habit of taking turns on watch. By the time they’re 10, they are outright offended when Minato tries to insist Rin gets her own tent because she’s a ‘growing young lady’ and ‘please Kushina will kill me’. 

-They have a secret code. and by ‘a secret code’ I mean several secret codes. Minato figured most of them out. Kakashi did not. It’s a point of pride.

-Despite everyone’s constant objections, Rin somehow always ended up in the middle of a fight, slipping behind Obitio’s back and making up for his defects as easily as breathing. Kakashi always berated her- she was the Med NIn! If she got hurt or killed, they didn’t have anyone to heal her!

-She did not care. She understood, and sometimes felt a little bad about it, but did not care. ‘you join combat for emergencies only’ they insisted, and her automatic response was simple: If Obito is in danger, then it’s an emergency.

-Minato dropped it pretty quickly and instead just focused on training her to be as murder-resistant as possible- sometimes he knew a losing battle when he saw it. 

-Kakashi never dropped it until one day he activates her Cain Instinct and she paralyzes him for 8 hours with the med-nin fighting style she was inventing because she was terrifying.

-And I haven’t even touched on them both being trans and supporting eachother through that, and I omitted 600 words about their first kills and biggest fight ever! I could talk about team minato forever god bless

-Sure, Obito got a crush on Rin at somepoint, but that wasn’t the defining part of their relationship. He didn’t go crazy because Rin didn’t like him back, or because she liked Kakashi. He went crazy because she died. She was the most important person in the world to him, his soulmate, platonic or not.

-Obito ‘died’, and Rin self destructed. She was ashamed of it but, really, she only lived on as long as she did after kanabi because she knew Obito would want her too. She couldn’t look kakashi in the eyes. She had several heart attacks because her seals would fade, and she would refuse to tell anyone else how to do them. 

-She wrote entire notebooks of things she would tell him when she died so she didn’t forget a thing, stepped around shamrocks like they were posion ivy. Her hair was uncut. She never joined a fight. She killed squirrels on sight with a flash of morbid humor and greif, and still wouldn’t explain why, and she’d rather sit on the floor then in a folding chair. 

-Kakashi didn’t want to admit it, couldn’t admit it, even to himself, for years, maybe decades, but in the last few months of her life Rin wasn’t alive. She tried, so hard, for Kakashi’s sake, but she wasn’t. She was a shell of her former self, more impulsive, less quick to smile, more cynical then he thought she would ever be.

-Rin died, and Obito stopped existing. It only made sense- who was he without Rin? 

-No one. He was a blank slate, melted down so Madara could form him anew. He became Madara and  Tobi and The Masked Man and a Clan Killer, but he would never be Obito again, because there was no Obito without Rin.

-Losing one another wasn’t like losing a limb. It wasn’t like having a part of their soul ripped out. It was nothing so mild. It was losing themself. It was having their soul souls beaten bloodily, shredded, and then disappear without a trace.

-everyone was right, in the end, about them. A tragedy waiting to happen. Terminally codependant. Minato said that once one died, the other was a ticking time bomb, and he was right. He just wished he wasn’t.

....Anyway yeah next time I see someone whine about how its pathetic that Obito tried to destroy the world because his school girl crush died like hes some Incel throwing a fit, I'll go feral.

[phantomdennys]

krbk fic recs 4 someone on twit who requested sap and fluff!

A Hair Away - catstrophysics

domestic fluff when kiri has to use baku’s shower and asks him to help brush through his hair. first kiss and cuddles. so soft. 1723 words.

Silent Confession - Emers_Writes

deaf baku. fluffy cuddles. 1586 words.

Shit, You're Actually Hot! - shinsousshin

kiri actually wears glasses and baku was not prepared. getting together. funny and fluffy. 5210 words.

Pros and Cons - sailrsierramoon

baku and kiri run into each other secretly cosplaying all might and crimson riot. getting together. first kiss fluff. 1729 words.

That One in a Millionth Chance Every Store Would be Out of Hair Dye - Emers_Writes

kiri has to go to school after a break with his hair black when his hair dye runs out and he cant get more. baku is best boy. lil ambiguous relationship fluff! 2441 words.

kiss him & see how you feel - Claus_Lucas

baku realizes some shit. coming out. first kiss. getting together. side kamisero. 3988 words.

it don't bite- YES IT DO - wholesomeworm

so funny. kiri is a dog trainer and baku is smitten. flooooof. au. first meeting. 7753 words.

Unbreakable Red Riot and Bakugou Katsuki's Fragile Heart - kirikatsu

baku sees a viral video of kiri going unbreakable for the first time. feelings realization. first kiss. getting together. the softest shit!! 1484 words.

An Unexpected Pride - shadowwolfgreen

baku goes to his first pride and meets kiri. so pure. so sweet. god bless. 4816 words.

Reunion - leahontheoffbeat

pro hero baku returning to musutafu after 5 yrs on the other side of japan. kiri’s gay little heart is not ready. lots of loves!!! fluffy! 1734 words.

It's raining and I want to go home - sunflowerstorm

kiri’s having a rough time and doesnt ask for help. bakusquad and his classmates take care of him. basically kiri is hurt and gets the support he needs. so fking soft. 2973 words.

Missed Connection - TMG_Fanfiction

a year after graduation. kiri runs into baku at the airport and they finally say some crucial things. soffffttttt. 2746 words.

Bro Bracelets - kirikatsu

baku misplaces his ~ bro bracelet ~ and feels guilty about it. it’s so silly and cute. love these boys. 1837 words.

role model - Claus_Lucas

pro heroes baku and kiri prove to a UA student that being gay is manly and u can be a hero!! it’s seriously so fuckin sweet i died. 2893 words.

Silent conversation - Wixiany

college au. kiri and mina talk about baku’s butt in morse code unaware that he also knows morse code. v funny. cheesy and precious. 1211 words.

Gathering The Courage To Say I Love You - efemerald

baku takes kiri to a play and confesses. it’s a soft silly mess. 1303 words.

Shake it, Break it, Get off your feet - idioticfangirl

quirk swap au. kiribaku dont listen to aizawa as usual. they are protective bbs. kiri gets hurt but it’s all ok. confessions. sap and fluff. 2865 words.

4 in the morning - efemerald

baku is extra protective when kiri goes out again after the raid. confessions and getting together. much fluff. 1034 words.

Fucking Period. End of Story. - RedWritingWolf

kiri walks in on trans!baku having a dysphoric panic attack. support and comfort ensues 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 2462 words. CW// blood

Friends for Gays - SunnyIllyana

kiri’s worried about coming out to his friends but turns out he really doesnt need to be. S O F T. 1842 words.

Mission Accomplished - SoftWhispers_ColdGoodbyes

pro heroes kiribaku! their first mission isnt complete quite yet. first kiss. fluffy fluff fluff. 1158 words.

Do you like animals? - ninja_waffle

silly precious fluff ft. cute animals!! kiri works at an animal shelter. baku ends up with a pup i think. first meeting au stuff. v soft. 7733 words.

Can you Hakuna Mytatas? - WonderBoyz

this is so silly it’s glorious. unfinished but still in the making. 4 chaps so far. baku likes disney movies and kiri teases him. 9079 words.

Mark This Down - LinnyHuman

super funny soulmate marks au. getting together. friends to lovers floof. 5620 words.

Love Language - SimplyUnknown

boys are dumb and in love. baku likes giving kiri gifts. kiri doesnt get the message. soft af. 3675 words.

Fishbowl - PandaDawgBE

aquarium date fluff!! confessions. 4994 words.

Smells Like Home - SummerBummin

ptsd is a b*tch and baku goes to kiri for comfort. confessions and loveeee. fluffy!!! 2486 words.

Dare Me - Ashii Black

uraraka dares baku to confess. it’s cute and funny! 1591 words.

laugh like fire - thornfruit

so damn soft. sleepy confessions and kisses. beautifully written. 1876 words.

The Sky is Blue and Other Truths - PurplePersnickety

one of my fave fics!! so funny and soft! kiri gets hit by a v weird truth quirk and baku takes care of him. getting together fluff. 3985 words.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 32

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

Sleeping next to Wade wasn’t the same thing as being at home, but they had both woken up less stiff than they would have if they’d slept separately. Even better, Rhonda felt keen, determined, even a little optimistic.

“Stay sharp,” Rhonda warned Wade over their cold sausage and some oatmeal that could be used to cover cracks in drywall. “After last night, I have a feeling one or both of us might get stabbed today.”

“Oh really?” Wade asked as if she had just told him she thought it might rain. “Just a feeling, or do you say that because of the guy behind you twirling a shiv?” Her eyes shot wide and he nodded, “Yeah, he’s looking at you, ready to snap into a Slim Jim. Move left in three...two...yup--” 

Rhonda ducked, covering her head and neck with her hands as Wade flung his plastic spork at a scrawny, dark haired man who let out a gargling shriek when it plunged into his neck, just above his collar. A sharpened piece of plastic that used to be a pen fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. Wade complained, “Dammit! I missed his eye!”

The nearest guard rushed over and glared at Rhonda, “What the hell happened over here?” His hand was quick to tighten over the cattle prod on his belt. 

“I don’t know,” she scoffed. “I don't know this guy. He just fell. Right, Wade?”

Wade replied around a big mouthful of sausage, “He’zh clumzhy on that toi-let wine.” He threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. Rhonda mimicked the shrug and took a bite of oatmeal, trying not to gag on it.

Boots thumped on concrete as a second guard showed up, and scowling at Wade and Rhonda, they both dragged the wailing man away toward the infirmary.

With a furtive glance around the mess hall, Rhonda caught a brief glimpse of Mimi a few tables away giving the slightest nod. Apparently, the man wasn’t part of the Vicious 13, and they wouldn’t have to worry about punishment. Lucky.

When Rhonda sighed and pushed her tray toward Wade, he eagerly took up her spork and finished off her oatmeal. How he could seem to enjoy the food was beyond Rhonda.

The Icebox didn't have a yard to speak of - at least not an outdoor yard. Built into the side of a snow capped mountain, the entire complex was indoor. A sealed box. There was a large central space, lined with the cell blocks that stretched for what felt like miles. In the middle of that was a large, open space where the mess hall and "yard" blurred into each other. Past the tables and benches of the mess hall were the weight racks, a pair of basketball goals, and some other equipment, most of it damaged from years of riots. There were very few fluorescent lights. Instead, most of the lighting came from the skylights several stories above. On a bright day, the lighting might have felt like a shopping mall, but there were no bright days on this mountaintop.

After breakfast, Wade and Rhonda hadn’t been put on any duties, so they were free to make their attempts at recreation in the yard. They had settled on a suspiciously rickety weight bench near some other members of the Vicious 13.

As they got the barbell ready for a few sets of bench press, they watched over each other’s shoulders, wary for another potential attack. The barbell was lopsided - there weren’t enough plates to make it even, so Wade pressed some of his own weight on the lighter side for Rhonda’s sets. She was on her second set when a pair of inmates approached.

“Hey, V-One-Three,” one greeted, “Can you add us to your rotation for a few sets?”

Rhonda sat up and before she could answer, the second inmate let out a startled hiss of, “Oh, shit.” They muttered a hurried excuse and quickly walked away. She watched them another moment, then rolled her eyes and laid on the bench again to finish her set.

“Okay, seriously,” Wade said, “Why does everyone in here wanna kill you or avoid you like a celebrity with a rape scandal?”

She puffed a breath, pushing harder against Wade’s resistance. “You know how when dirty cops go to jail, they get sent somewhere outside their county, or out of state? So they don’t have to be in general pop with the people they arrested?”

Wade started snickering. He coughed a little, but still tried to keep his weight consistent on the bar.

Rhonda took a deep breath before her next rep. “Well when I first got here, I was sure there had been a mistake and I made a big deal about being part of X-Men. Guess who put a bunch of people in here.”

“The Avengers?” When she leveled a stony glare on him, he chuckled a little more before asking, “Okay, so what else?”

She shifted uncomfortably, and racked the bar for a moment to catch her breath between sets. She tugged at her sleeve to make sure most of her Xs were covered. “Eventually, I...snapped.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “What does it look like when lawful good snaps? Quit saying ‘bless you’ when someone sneezes?”

Rhonda looked up at him, rusty barbell between them. “I started doing what everyone in here does. Stabbing kidneys, slashing thighs. But then I escalated. I broke a couple necks, and…” she took a deep breath and shuddered.

Wade smiled, a twinkle gleaming in his eye. Rhonda whispered something too soft for him to hear. “Hm?” he held a hand to his ear.

A voice near Rhonda’s feet said, “She slashed a motherfucker open and pulled out his intestines with her bare hands.”

Rhonda ducked under the bar to sit bolt upright, a shiv glinted in her hand. The blue-haired man she had pointed out to Wade when they first arrived stood before them. His arms were crossed, his deep bronze skin seemed dull compared to the bright blue of his cornrows.

Wade’s jaw dropped. Then he gave Rhonda a slow clap. “Look at you! Giving Arya Stark a run for her money! Miss Murder’n’Mayhem!”

The inmate bared his teeth, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, “She took a bite, too. I seen it.” He turned his gaze to Wade and pointed at Rhonda, “This psycho bitch bit off a guard’s finger too. If she’s using you for a slampiece, you better watch yourself.”

When Wade looked at Rhonda again, she was perfectly still, her features void of any emotion. “You have a lot of fingers for someone doing so much talking,” she warned.

Wade made a big show of grimacing and groaning, “Cannibalism? Really?”

The blue-braided inmate shrugged, “Nah, I know you won’t fuck with me. I ain’t given you any reason. Besides, you slash a V-One-Three? Mimi won’t have that. See how quick she makes you disappear.” His chin jutted upward, absolutely arrogant. It annoyed Rhonda, but he wasn’t wrong.

She lowered her shiv, but didn’t put it away. Cold glare fixed on the newcomer, she asked, “You need something, Janks?”

He waved vaguely toward the bench she sat on, “This bar’s in the V-One-Three section. Any of us can use it. Now move so I can do a set. I’ve got messages from Mimi.”

She hesitated to move. “If Mimi’s got something to say to me, she can tell me herself.”

Janks gave another mirthless smile, “Mimi is a busy lady.”

Sharing a pointed look with Wade, she reluctantly got up and let Janks settle. Wade coughed again, so Rhonda had him lean on the heavier side of the bar, so he could have it easier and she could lean with her own weight on the lighter side to Janks’s satisfaction.

Janks was surprisingly strong. He pumped each rep quickly, raw power in his lean muscles. He puffed a breath with each rep. “Mimi says - hhh - she knows the right snake hole - hhh - to get to the top of - hhh - the mountain.”

“Nice code,” Wade quipped. “A little on the nose for my taste, but--”

“What else did Mimi tell you?” Rhonda asked with a sharp edge in her voice.

“Hhh - Nothin’ she doesn’t trust me with,” Janks evaded. “There’s something - hhh - you’ll have to take care of - hhh - she says you’ll know what to do.” 

He paused at the end of his set, and Rhonda let him breathe a second before she pressed, “That’s it? She didn’t give any details?”

Janks scoffed, “How many fuckin’ details you need, Guestbook, huh? I told you everything I’m supposed to.” He curled a finger, signaling he was ready for another set. 

Practically hovering over his face, Rhonda gave a quiet snarl, “Whatever it is, if Mimi’s not happy, you better hope it wasn’t because of a communication error.”

Janks worked another two sets before he left them alone. Wade was coughing too much for Rhonda to let him do a set at all, and instead they took a worn deck of playing cards to one of the tables at the edge of the mess hall. As she started shuffling the deck, careful not to tear the corners any worse than they already were, Wade asked, “You really eviscerated somebody and then made a snack of him?”

Rhonda clenched her jaw so hard Wade could hear her teeth grinding. “I did the guard’s finger, yes. But the first guy...I spat some blood at somebody. You know how stories get twisted.”

“Uh-huh,” he was trying not to laugh.

“This isn’t something I’m proud of,” she snapped, her voice still raspier than usual. “The first time I killed someone, I couldn’t hold any food down for days. And later, I...I either got used to it, or I got better at not thinking about it." She paused and dropped her voice to a near whisper and looked away, "I don’t know which is worse.” Her teeth ground again as she pursed her lips and started dealing the deck evenly between herself and Wade.

His expression softened. “We won’t be here long,” he assured her. “The gang’s probably already on their way here. What’s the plan for these collars? I have a feeling you’ve been making decisions without cluing me in...”

“Let’s play War,” Rhonda flipped the top card of her deck - a queen of spades with her faces scratched out. Wade revealed a three of hearts, and Rhonda took both for her pile. “Mimi will get into the control office and let us in. Until then, we keep her happy doing whatever she tells us.”

Wade started to laugh, but it quickly turned into coughs again. “You let the snake lady gang lord be in charge of the most important part of our plan? Why did you agree to that?” He flipped a seven of diamonds, which beat Rhonda’s two of clubs. 

“I got her to buy in on getting the fuck out of here.” She surreptitiously glanced around, checking for anyone listening.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he grumbled as they tied the next round and each laid out three cards for battle. “You don’t strike me as much of a diplomatic type. What did you promise her?”

Rhonda won the next round and leaned close. “Every inmate in here would give anything to get these collars off. I promised Mimi that if she helps us, she can take collars off whoever she wants.”

Wade fidgeted with the corner of his next card. “And if she chooses people who can wreck our shit?”

She shrugged. “When I first got mine off, I couldn’t do anything. It was a couple days before I could even make sparks again. There’s a chance that the collars affect other people like that too, especially the ones who’ve had them a long time. Their abilities will probably be lessened.”

“I smell a whole lot of maybe in that idea…”

“What other options do you see, Wade?” She slapped her next card on the table. “If we had a year, we could build a cover, we could get a guard in our pocket, make some hiding places, but this is the best we can do right now.” She shook her head and muttered, “Besides, it’s not like we have to take them with us.”

“Inmate!” a guard barked from a distance.

Wade raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you’d have that attitude, but okay. I--”

“IN-MATE.” The guard was closer now, impatient. “Guestbook!”

Rhonda turned, schooling her features to predatory stillness. A few other inmates had gathered behind the guard, watching. This was the guard who had been with Reyes when the DMC had recaptured her. “Calhoun,” she said flatly. “How’s Reyes?”

Calhoun had bruises around one eye, and though Rhonda couldn’t remember, she suspected she'd put those bruises there herself. He was seething, “He’s out of the ICU, and he asked me to...watch over you until he gets back.”

“Here I am,” she said simply.

“Yeees,” Calhoun drawled. “Here you are.” 

He moved, and Rhonda dove under the table. Cards fluttered in the air. Before she had a chance to roll to Wade’s side, Calhoun and another inmate snagged each of her ankles and dragged her out into the open. Wade jumped, ready to help, but three inmates grabbed him, pinned his arms back, and started punching his gut.

Rhonda clawed at the cement, breaking fingernails as they dragged her. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she scrambled to defend herself. She whirled and caught the inmate in the face with her elbows, breaking his nose and spraying blood, but Calhoun caught her arm and threw her down onto her face. She was nearly to her feet again when a heavy, steel-toed boot caught her in the belly. The breath rushed out of her and she collapsed onto her side. 

Three more inmates pulled at her arms and legs until she was immobilized. 

Calhoun jabbed his knee into her lower back, ignoring her pained grunt. “It’s been a while since we’ve had our Guestbook,” Calhoun leaned over so Rhonda could see his cruel smile, “and we’ve had a lot of newcomers who need to sign.”

Rhonda screamed. Wild, pure rage echoed through the yard.

The guard tore her right sleeve clean off her arm, revealing her lacework of badly inked Xs.

Wade roared in angry futility, even as the inmates holding him kept beating him.

Calhoun took something from his pocket, a tattoo gun cobbled together from CD player parts and office supplies. He slowly ran one hand along Rhonda’s arm, looking for a blank space. “I forgot how full your arm is,” he said. “Maybe we should tear off the rest of your clothes.”

Rhonda huffed and heaved, raging but trying to conserve her strength. “Reyes thought he was tough until a giant Russian mutant had his hands on him,” she growled through her clenched jaw. “Reyes is shit, and you’re shit. You’ll die shit.”

Unperturbed, Calhoun hooked his fingers into Rhonda’s collar and thumped her head hard against the concrete floor. Looking at the inmates who had gathered around them, he flashed his teeth in a horrible smile. He offered up the improvised tattoo gun. “Okay, who’s first?”

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapters 205 & 206:  the medium is the message - and Asirpa realizes her role in the hunt for the gold.

I’ve decided to combine chapters 205 & 206 for analysis.  I was stuck on chapter 205 and it made more sense for me to look at both chapters at the same time. The series is clearly at a slower point, setting up things and adding some comedy to balance out things when they get overly intense.  Just think back to 185-191.

This upcoming intensity is alluded to in a very blunt way, the chapter title page here with Tsurumi in a bed of weapons. It is as though he is an unnatural and almost zombie like man cradled in a pile of elements of death and destruction.

His skin tone is a sickening shade of yellow green, and his veins are clearly visible.

He’s clearly living up to his shinigami nickname and this likely refers back to his early mention in the manga about supplying countries with arms for WWI to Mr. Thomas as well as his goal to employ the families of the men lost in the Russo-Japanese war in his weapons industry for WWI.  Despite all of this information we already know about Tsurumi, we still don’t know his original motivations for why he thought this is a good idea.  What does he hope to achieve by creating a military dictatorship on Hokkaido?  Who is he fighting as a result of Ogla & Fina’s deaths?

Anyways, those are some thoughts to ponder at greater length another time.

The chapter starts off very seriously.  Tsukishima finds Sugimoto and talks to him away from the others.  He flat out tells Sugimoto that Kiro took Asirpa to Karafuto to remember the key to the gold that needed to be facilitated by Sofia. Furthermore, Tsukishima figured out that Ogata ran off with Asirpa b/c he knew she had figured out the code and when she talked to Kiro and relaxed before dying, it means that Asirpa knows what the the key is.

Tsukishima states this as a question, but really, it is only a formality - everyone present knows the Asirpa told Kiro something that gave him the ability to die at least knowing Asirpa learned something important, the code.

Based on what Tsukishima is summarizing, it is clear he knows more about those involved than Tsurumi let Sugimoto know.  Sugimoto asked him in Abashiri why he thought they went to Karafuto.  Tsurumi recounts the fact from the initial events that got Wilk caught; the other men were murdered, he was heading towards Karafuto with a small amount of gold when he got caught.  He then added in that b/c they were partisans, Kiro would likely want to reconnect his allies here.

Tsurumi only gives Sugimoto basic information - that Kiro will want to work with partisans and get Asirpa in contact with them.  He doesn’t mention Sofia, the fact she’s in Akou, in a Russian prison, that he’ll float information to someone to make sure the border guards are on the alert for Kiro and Wilk.  Meanwhile, he clearly gave at least some of this information to Tsukishima to help him figure things out on the fly.

Tsukishima is bold enough to ask if Ogata tried to kill her because he got the code from her and she was no longer necessary.  Sugimoto’s response is so well, Sugimoto.  That Asirpa would not tell Ogata the code.  What he doesn’t know is that Ogata almost got the code out of her.

Sugimoto then tells Tsukishima that he’ll talk to her and that Tsukishima shouldn’t interfere.  Sugimoto is unable to see Tsukishim’s facial expression at that point in time.  I wonder if Sugimoto is trying to hide his own expression?  But he misses seeing Tsukishima’s expression that is very emotional for Tsukishima.  He’s not pleased at all with Sugimoto pushing him out of the way.

The rest of the chapter changes focus to the potential power of film.

The two filmmakers give the group a free viewing of some of their film footage and it gives Asirpa the idea that they should try to record Ainu stories so that others could understand them.  Already at the beginning she’s concerned and disappointed that they can only record images but not voices.

Despite that, she decides that they should still do their best to film Ainu culture.  At first she thinks, this will be a great idea, since there is no language their film will be universally understood.  She’s very excited by this idea, and it is a very smart idea, one that we as readers would expect from Asirpa.  Sugimoto’s facial expression is unusual here.  He looks unhappy, and again the protective covering for his head is visible under his cap. 

Does he not understand her need to preserve her culture.  Or Is he concerned that she’s realized her culture is in danger and she’s using language that Wilk or Kiro would use?  Whatever it is, Sugimoto is not happy with this statement from Asirpa.

With his typical jock persuasion, Sugimoto convinces Inaba to let her film her Ainu folktales. 

This then transitions to the mainly comedy part of the chapter.  Asirpa becomes a stereotypical over the top demanding director. 

Honestly, I felt meh about the whole Pannape and Pennape bit.  Sugimoto gets cast as the fortunate Pannape who gets good things to happen due to his penis.  His loving wife is played by Koito, I guess because he’s more attractive than Tsukishima?  The unlucky Pennape is played by Sugimoto and his wife is played by Tsukishima who also has exceptionally large breasts.  I feel sorry for Shiraishi, we already know the guy is less than blessed below the belt but having his penis cut off and then dying is just harsh and odd.

This also reveals that Vasily is helping with their set, by painting props so he’s still stuck to the group like glue waiting for Ogata to pop up.

What is interesting is that Tsukishima again approaches Sugimoto about his method for dealing with Asirpa while they are filming.  I find it interesting that he tells Sugimoto they don’t have any time.  This implies from the beginning of the chapter that Tsukishima wants to get the code from Asirpa before Tsurumi gets to Karafuto.  It is almost as though Tsukishima is trying to avoid having Asirpa have to deal with Tsurumi directly . . .  Sugimoto replies by trying to make it clear that only he will deal with Asirpa.

Koito is clearly unaware of Tsukishima’s conversation with Sugimoto and instead, being the competitive person he is, wonders if Tsukishima is trying to get more scenes by currying favor with Sugimoto.  I think there is a lot more with Koito going on below the surface, he’s clearly still upset at Tsukishima and I think this is another way that he’s lashing out at him.  He may not even realize it, but it is clear that Tsukishima knows more things in regards to the mission that Koito does. 

I will say though, Koito is really into this!  It is just like the circus arc he shows, when motivated through competition he’ll got to great lengths.  Plus, we know he is a natural performer.

What I find even more exciting and interesting is that he is NOT MOTIVATED by Tsurumi.  Tsukishima was able to get even more out of Koito during the circus arc by using the extra Tsurumi bromides as carrots.  Here there are no Tsurumi bromides, no validation and praise from Tsurumi nor his father.  Koito’s just really motivated from himself.  Or at least this is what I see happening.  I dunno, I think this is a big deal for Koito.  He’s doing stuff likely based on internal motivation not external.  I’ll get back to this later on when I discuss chapter 206.

Despite a cast of people of varying motivation, Asirpa becomes upset b/c she realizes silly stories about lucky and unlucky men and their penises won’t convey Ainu culture for future generations.  Sugimoto suggests she try a more serious story instead.

She agrees and for this one she uses a more diverse cast as well.

Cikapasi is the lead, the youngest of three brothers who went on a hunting trip and stopped by a house with a man who had three daughters. They hung out and a strange man showed up, who was a bear in disguise.  The oldest brother helped the youngest to defeat the bear, by hitting him with a stick revealing his true identity.  The family was thankful for their help.  The brothers continued on their journey.

As they came back by the house, they were offered the chance to marry the daughters and the youngest brother agreed to do so.  He was so happy to have a family to be a part of as shown here with Cikapasi, Enonoka and her grandfather.  As Enonoka and her grandfather smile at Cikapasi we see his eyes wide open, sparkly (again as much as GK charas can) and he’s unable to say something . . .

I think that this conveys that Enonoka and her grandfather would love to have Cikapasi as a part of their own family.  And he just realized it at this point.

The story then reveals that the oldest brother, played by Tanigaki is actually a bird kamuy and he leaves the younger brothers behind.  She also explains that the main character was an orphan and he was taken into the kamuy’s family and raised and cared for by him.  But it is now time for them to say goodbye.  Asirpa’s prompt is key at this moment, he will say goodbye to “that man” forever [Tanigaki].

Cikapasi sweats as he realizes what this means and this results in the most emotionally honest performance of any one that day.  Tanigaki looks down upon Cikapasi with such a soft look, in the story the bird’s tears turned to rain.  What is more important is that Cikapasi cries as he says Tanigaki’s name.  He knows what will likely happen between them now, that he will have to separate from Tanigaki, now that he’s found a family.

I’d like to note that Tanigaki now has light in his eyes.  Tanigaki’s eyes have always been variable throughout the series.  Like many members of the 7th, he frequently in serious situations is shown with no light in his eyes, no sparkle.  But in instances of domestic calm e.g eating borscht with the light house couple or relaxing we can see some sparkle.  However, his eyes also sparkle in extremely violent situations - this was shown when Ogata tried to snipe him and when he fought Kiro and stabbed him with his own knife.  I wonder if the sparkle for Tanigaki happens when he’s allowing others to see his emotions as opposed to times when he’s just following orders and trying to lay low.  It is hard to tell.

Either way, this chapter was an exceptionally emotional one for Asirpa and Cikapasi for different reasons.

After thinking about chapter 205 for awhile, I really like the idea that Asirpa was the director.  Yes, her film is a bit of a disaster since she’s a kid and not an amazing director, but I really like the fact that she was able to direct her own culture and cultural experience.  She is a native, female director trying to capture what is most important to her and not through the lens of an outsider.  I think this is incredibly important and it also shows that GK is written in 2019 and not 1907.  There is a great debate in the movie and television industry about if the media is inclusive enough or not currently.  This shows that it is critical to allow someone to depict their cultural context without someone else doing it and making it exotic and his 100% relavent RIGHT NOW.

For me, I can’t stress this enough, it is the fact that Asirpa takes control of the media relating to her culture that really stood out for me in this chapter.  I had to look beyond the penis jokes and see the events in chapter 206 to really get this to click for me.  As we know, Hijikata has his own plans to use her and her culture in the fight for the gold.  And as chapter 206 shows, the filmmakers were capturing her own culture through their own cultural context as a French man (very colonial) and a Japanese man (a growing colonial power).  Obviously, their own opinions will impact their film making.  We all have bias that we bring to our interpretations.  I think the fact that Asirpa’s own bias will help to equalize out those who are looking from the outside in at her culture and this includes Sugimoto and Tanigaki.  I can’t help but feeling that these two men are cherry picking what they want to borrow from Ainu culture but see the rest as not valuable or valid.

Chapter 206 continues the transition to the results of their film making experiment.  Thanks to Koito’s affluence, they are able to rent an entire theatre for themselves (including Vasily- Vasya, please go home).  Shiraishi points out the obvious about Koito’s wealth with a carefree attitude.  Tsukishima glances at Shiraishi, Koito flat out ignores him.

Sugimoto is looking concerned at a very serious looking Asirpa (likely how her work will present itself) and Tanigaki looks at Enonoka and Cikapasi excited to see the film!  If you look further out, it also appears that Sugimoto and Tsukishima are looking at each other as well.  Does this mean they are both staring each other down as well as looking at the others?  Can this be read as both things happening at once?  I’m going to say yes, both.

The only people interested in viewing film so clearly are Asirpa, Koito, Cikapasi and Enonoka.

The chapter than gives a montage of the film and various characters reactions to things.  Koito is clearly quite proud of his acting skills as after it shows him cutting the pole penis, he glances back to Tsukishima both proud and a bit cocky.  I really think he wants Tsukishima to be impressed or feel that Koito out performed him.

This is not a look that wants Tsukishima’s approval, it is more of a “beat that Tsukishima!”. The next shows it all with Tsukishima’s very Tsukishima performance which was his fake breasts jiggling.  What is important is what this is allowing Cikapasi and Tanigaki to realize. . . .  As the Tanigaki bird kamuy flies by Enonoka and Cikapasi are holding hands.

Enonoka is excited by the scene, Cikapasi looks serious, he’s recognizing that he likely will have to make a choice - stay with Enonoka or go back.  His facial expression seems to be leaning towards saying good-bye to Tanigaki.  It shows Tanigaki then looking at both of them, he’s again got a soft sparkle in his eyes - I think he too knows that they should part ways - or is he going to ask Cikapasi to still join him even if it isn’t the best option for Cikapasi?  I really hope they realize the best thing is for both of them to appreciate their time together, but to move on.

Things get more interesting as they explain they filmed near Otaru more than 10 years prior.  It shows Wilk with a bow and arrow and Huci and another woman are in the background clapping.  All of the adults are surprised to see Wilk’s actual face. Shiraishi calls him Wilk as he and Sugimoto both sweat.  Koito instead calls him Noppera-bou (in the Japanese raws, not scan translation) since he is not a connected to him but now sees him in a more human light.  Tsukishima meanwhile is unmoved and does not appear surprised at all. 

Is this b/c Tsukishima is being Tsukishima or did he know or spy on Wilk for Tsurumi in the past?  I think Tsukishima knew what Wilk looked like before the injury.  Tanigaki just looks at him in awe.  Not sweating but clearly thinking something. . . .  thinking about that father you ran away from Tanigaki?  Did you realize something?

The film goes on to feature the woman who is clearly Asirpa’s mother both based on her appearance but also based on her behaviours!  Noda wants to make it quite clear that this woman is Asirpa’s mother.  No doubts readers, this woman was Asirpa’s mother.

The film then shows a scene of Wilk kissing a child in a papoose on her back.  It is clear that the child is Asirpa, and that the film as caught both of her parents in action.  Also, notice that Asirpa’s mother had her ears pierced but she was not wearing earrings.  I wonder if this has any importance to her role in the community.  Her tattoo is also minimal, very much like Inkarmat’s.  Was Asirpa’s mother a more progressive and modern Ainu woman as well?

My personal favorite part of the chapter is the two page spread below.  I love everything about it.  The image of Asirpa and her mother on the screen, Vasily in the back along with Tsuki and Shiraishi also hanging back.  Asirpa is cast in the light, Shiraishi is in grey and we can see his facial expression yet Sugimoto is entirely shaded in black.  Inaba explains the dialogue between himself and Wilk. It ends showing Kiro looking at the camera while Wilk is in the background shaded.  The spread ends with Sugimoto, Asirpa and Shiraishi all looking at it in awe!

The lighting, framing, everything about this is so nice.  It gives the entire feeling of the reactions of everyone.  What is most interesting to me, is that Inaba tells him that registering to marry Asirpa’s mother mean he would count as Japanese and that he could end up drafted for the war.  The manga has never touched on the idea of Wilk fighting in the war, only Kiro.  Both frames show Kiro in the foreground before Wilk - I wonder if Kiro reported for duty as Wilk instead of Wilk going?  Kiro is the one who looks back towards the viewer (Inaba).  If Kiro went instead of Wilk - would anyone know the difference? Japanese office for draft intake: “Hey a random Ainu says he’s Wilk.  Yep, must be him, I mean he’s an Ainu guy.” (whatever his registered name was that we still don’t know) plus we never learned Kiro’s registered name either.

 I really wonder if they just pulled a fast one on the Japanese government.  Asirpa has always mentioned her father being there for her and raising her - I can’t help but think that Kiro took his place if he was drafted. . . . I could see Kiro taking one for the team so to speak.

Sadly, around that time the arc lamp sparks and the film begins to melt and they run out before there is a fire.  Asirpa then walks away from the group outside of the theatre.  Sugimoto goes after her to ask her if she’s okay.  She looks so sad yet thoughtful during these scenes.  Her encounter with film as a medium has given her more perspective. 

She finally got to see what her mother looked like but it does not convey the love for her the same way that she gets from her father telling her about her mother.  She has learned a lot through her journey with Kiro (part of his monologue to her at the fox farm).  She learned about the Karafuto Ainu and other ethnic groups.  It shows her looking through the fence at the foxes at the fox farm - is this a tie to Ogata doing the same thing as her?  Ogata was looking at the foxes while Kiro talked to her and vice versa.

It also shows the sama of the Uilta people was he’s trying to help remove whatever has taken hold of Ogata during his fever state.  It lastly shows the Nivhk people tanning fish hides.  Out of the four scenes here, two are clearly linked to Ogata . . . what does it mean?  Two of the scenes are directly linked to Wilk, the fox farm and the Karafuto Ainu sled dog and maybe the sama a bit since he shot a reindeer just like Ogata did by accident.  Come on Noda!  You tie Ogata and Asirpa together too frequently for it to be random.

The next page is very dramatic. . . . Asirpa’s face is shaded so we can’t see her expression, and nor can Sugimoto. Her wolf cloak blows in the wind dramatically as she asks Sugimoto if it is true that she needs to fight for what she wants to protect as Kiro and Wilk have said.

His reaction to her words is immediate, we get the feeling that he’s becoming emotionally charged, the erratic screentones in the background the wind blowing his scarf up and his hair becomes more on edge.  Sugimoto says that she doesn’t need to be the one fighting though.

She then states that once the gold is found she should go back to being who she was before, an Ainu girl living near Otaru, hunting and enjoying her food with “hinna hinna”.  She asks him if that is what he’s saying.  It is interesting that she has pretty much asked Sugimoto if she should do what Ogata told her to do back in chapter 185.

The conversation continues to ratchet things up - she continues to state that Kiro didn’t die just so that she could go home.  He wanted her to understand the plight of the native peoples and that she can’t ignore this.  Sugimoto then tells her that she doesn’t have to fight. Her response is blunt.

She calls him out on it - he’s not telling her these things for Asirpa - he’s doing it for himself.  The next panel almost gives me chills she asks him if he sees inside her a reminder of himself before the war - when he at persimmons with his friends and he was much more carefree and happy.

Sugimoto’s shaded face is almost like his admission of guilt - she hit the nail on the head.  She’s confirmed that this is a major part of his involvement.

I have to admit that I was pleasantly surprised when Sugimoto doesn’t deny that he’s using her to an extent.  So that he can go back to the time when he was able to eat dried persimmons with Toraji and Umeko.  Asirpa shows a look of surprise and realization when he doesn’t deny it.  What I do find concerning is how unhappy he looks before he comes clean.  That frown is so obvious that this is a conversation he doesn’t want to be having.  I get the feeling that Sugimoto wanted Asirpa to simply drop out of the fight because he has said so.

Sugimoto finally talks about the stuff that he wanted to talk to her about back in 139 when he was heading to Karafuto and while talking with Koito Sr.  He finally explains that Wilk wanted Asirpa to lead the Ainu and fight the Japanese and the Russians.  I have been waiting so long for Sugimoto to finally have this conversation with her.  But - I’m not pleased with the idea that he tells her that Wilk and Kiro wanted her to fight and kill people for the cause.  He even says that Kiro’s death was so that Asirpa would feel like she had no choice to fight to save her culture.  Honestly, I don’t think Kiro was too keen on dying for the cause; yes, he was able to die at peace b/c Asirpa learned things and remembered the code but he clearly would have preferred to have still been fighting.

It is more that Sugimoto is adding this as his own emphasis, to fight for her culture, she will kill people, just like Wilk and Kiro.   He tells her that he can’t forgive Wilk and Kiro for doing this to her - putting her in this position.  Asirpa likely doesn’t see this the same way as Sugimoto - she sees that her eyes have been opened to what is happening and she even had seen how Inkarmat was fighting for the Ainu as well (her methods didn’t get the correct result but she tried). 

There are so many things happening here - likely Wilk and Kiro didn’t give a damn about whether or not someone like Sugimoto could forgive them. 

They weren’t looking for “forgiveness” for their actions from a non-native and a colonizer.

Why would they? They are the victims of colonialism and they for certain aren’t looking for forgiveness from their colonizers that is a ridiculous concept.  Sugimoto’s viewpoint is a slap in the face to Asirpa - he’s “morally right” enough that his judgement of Wilk and Kiro is better than Asirpa’s own “judgement” of them.

What Sugimoto got out of his conversation with Koito Sr. is that Wilk and by extension, Koito Sr. said is that leaders who are asking others to sacrifice their children for a cause must do that same.  Koito Sr. speaks specifically about Koito, but as we learn in Koito’s flashback, he’s already lost one of son’s due to his leadership role.  At this point in the story it allows the reader to show that Koito Sr. is willing to make the sacrifice of his second son if he has to as a leader of his people. 

Sugimoto’s dialogue shows that he did not get the point that Koito Sr. was trying to say instead he just asks her if she wants to fight like her father did.

What I don’t like about this is that Sugimoto then states that he doesn’t have his own children but he thinks he knows what it is like to be a parent.  That’s what his words imply to Asirpa. He takes the fire and brimstone approach to Asirpa - that if she kills she will go to the Ainu hell.  I don’t know what to think of this approach - Koito Sr. was trying to give Sugimoto perspective as to the putative role Wilk wanted Asirpa to play in the Ainu and the ethnic minorities. 

No one in the manga is denying that Wilk wanted her to do things that in our modern mindset seem cruel and unfair to her.  However, for most of human history, children were a means to an end, you had children so they could continue to do whatever you were doing.  The ideas of marrying people for love and allowing children to have a free will to decide what they are doing is still not even universal today.

Asirpa is sweating as he tells her that she should not get involved b/c she will have to kill others and she will know what that is like.  The visual of demon Sugimoto then is shown before a profusely sweating Asirpa before the final panel here. 

The gap between them seems so great to me.  Asirpa is small and separated from him and looking up at him.  Meanwhile, Sugimoto is clearly looking down upon her.  If the tension continues between them, it will set up Asirpa’s reply to be something likely divisive or very emotional.

Is Sugimoto being heavy handed because Asirpa called him out on his “use” of her to remind him of his younger, unbroken self?  He tells her that she is fortunate to have made it this far in the quest for the gold and hasn’t killed anyone like the rest of them.  She still has lead to the harm of others directly or indirectly. . .

The chapter of 206 sums up the state of Sugimoto and Asirpa and the last panel visually shows it - it truly is “the distance between the two of them”.

Okay, so time for some crazy theories and obeservations.

This is the second time that someone has talked to Asirpa about her role in the hunt for the gold and it is clear that this is a parallel with what happened between Asirpa and Ogata.

Similar to with Sugimoto here where he asks her if she is alright with his face obscured making his intent unclear.

Ogata also first approaches her from behind his eyes shaded.

This leads him to asking her if she learned the code showing hims again with his face obscured as she turns to him.  Notice how the wind blows around them with her hair flowing and his cloak as well.

Which is similar to this scene with Sugimoto.  The wind blows her wolf skin cloak and later on we see Sugimoto’s scarf also blowing in the wind.

But things then go differently for awhile.  Sugimoto continues to tower over her from a bit of a distance while in contrast Ogata kneels before her.

He is lower than her as he asks her that she wants to live near her home hunting.  Interestingly, as a true grandma’s boy, he includes her Huci in his statement.

This statement by Ogata likely is what prompted Asirpa to phrase things to this way to Sugimoto.  She’s asking Sugimoto if he’s implying the same thing that Ogata was implying.  What is interesting is we as the readers can see this but Sugimoto doesn’t know that Asirpa is using Ogata’s words towards him.  GK is full of scenes where characters re-use each other’s dialogue when talking to them - Ogata is the best example of this and now Asirpa is doing the same thing that Ogata has been shown to do.  Again, Asirpa and Ogata are linked through this mechanism.

What I personally find interesting is how Sugimoto and Ogata try completely different ways to argue the same thing. In 185 Ogata tells her that she should leave the fight to Kiro and Sofia and that she shouldn’t carry such a heavy burden.  Ogata never directly tells he to not fight - instead he states that she should leave adult things to adults.

This also gives an “advantage”  to Asirpa in her discussion with Sugimoto, she’s already been through this once with Ogata, and she incorporates some of what he said and uses it back towards Sugimoto with her own conclusions. 

The way that Sugimoto argues with her is 100% what one would expect from him - he says “don’t kill.”  That is the end of my arguement.  Thank you.

Honestly, in 185, Ogata tried so much harder than Sugimoto does in 206 to convince her to give him the code.  Ogata tries to state that as a child (well teen) she doesn’t need to carry this burden.  Sugimoto states that the situation was arranged so that she would have no option but to conclude that she should fight.  His solution - don’t fight.  “Hey Asirpa,  you know what you should do?  Don’t fight.”

Sugimoto isn’t even listening to Asirpa.  With Ogata and Asirpa - the conversation was one-sided, Ogata tried all these different ways to get her to give him the code and she only talks back to him when he asks her why she didn’t let Sugimoto kill him and why the “idol of the Ainu” must remain pure.  Ogata got into some weird philosophical battle with himself facilated by Asirpa.

The conversation with Sugimoto is already going to play out differently - Asirpa called Sugimoto out - something that she couldn’t do with Ogata in part to the fact that she didn’t know exactly what he wanted from her, so she couldn’t argue back.

Ultimately, Sugimoto and Ogata interpreted Wilk’s intentions in completely different ways. 

Sugimoto sees Wilk’s intentions as flat out telling Asirpa that she must fight.  He trained her to be a leader and she will lead the guerria warfare against the Japanese and Russian governments for independence. 

Ogata instead, saw that Wilk set Asirpa up as a pure idol to lead the Ainu.  She would lead them into battle but she herself would not dirty her hands.  Ogata then wanted her to dirty her hands so that she could be like everyone else and lead the Ainu with realistic and dirty hands.  Ogata interestingly never brought up the idea of it being okay for Asirpa to fight.  I think he understood well enough what was at stake for the Ainu, he did align himself with Kiro so he likely didn’t just give him lipservice . . .

This ties back to the role of a father impacting the fate of a child.  What is interesting is that Ogata is upset b/c he’s the abandoned son of a man who made his “blessed son” stay pure while he had to get dirty.  It is clear that on some level even if he denies it, but Ogata was jealous of Yuusaku and Asirpa for being elevated to special places by their father while the rest of them were stuck in the literal trenches.  Ogata has made it clear he doesn’t care for the “elite” of any society or culture.

Sugimoto instead, is upset that Wilk just wants her to kill b/c that is what she was raised to do. He has not followed upon his Joan of Arc reference - will this pop up in the next chapter?  If so, it will increase the parallel between Sugimoto and Ogata.

This has me wondering if Sugimoto also has issues about being “abandoned” by the death of his father.  All that manga has revealed is that he burnt down the family house after he was informed of his father’s death of TB.  Is Sugimoto jealous of the fact that even though Asirpa no longer has her father he had a plan for her?  This still implies that he cares about her and her future as fucked up as his plan is for her. 

Right now, it feels like Ogata’s arguement versus Sugimoto’s arguement seems more well fleshed out and thought out.  However, we need to see if Sugimoto’s discussion will play out over 3 chapters as well.

187 ended with a stand off between the two of them here as shown at the beginning of 188 . ..

While 206 ends with this panel.

Will this lead to a standoff as well?  It is clear they are now on different sides of the issue of how to protect Ainu culture.  I would be shocked if Asirpa gives Sugimoto the code - right now everything indicates that she will also deny him the code.

Well either way we will have to wait a few weeks for the next new chapter!

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Sleeping At Last

or: 5 times Tony couldn´t sleep (and the one time he could)

My first 5+1! It´s based on an ask from lovely @trashofdoom, featuring a severely sleep-deprived Tony and various people (and AIs) looking after him. A million thanks to my amazing beta Bethany (@whumphoarder).

TW for vomiting, alcohol-overuse and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms. Enjoy!

Tony rubs his eyes exhaustedly. They’re dry and stinging, irritated from countless hours spent staring at a Starkpad and fiddling with code. He spots another error in the programme and corrects it with a sigh. The numbers, usually easier to understand for him than any human behaviour, just won’t come together today.

There’s a soft knock at the door. It is honestly beyond Tony why people still knock in an era where there are retinal scanners at each entry to keep out unwanted visitors and open doors for the wanted ones, but at least it reduces the number of possible intruders down to two, one of whom  - Captain Spangles - is ruled out because of his ridiculously regular sleep pattern.

“Hey Brucie,” Tony calls even before the other man has entered. “What brings you here at - “ God, how has it become 4:30 this quickly?

“I should ask you the same. This is the, what, fourth night in a row?”

“Just getting these updates done.” Tony rolls his chair back and gestures to a row of devices lined up on the table across from him.

“And that can’t wait until tomorrow?” Bruce asks critically.

“The glitch with the comms not adjusting frequencies automatically was a serious issue last time... Nat wouldn’t have gotten hit if we had been able to warn her. She barely made it through—you know that.”

Bruce looks at him, then sees through him. “It wasn’t your fault, Tony.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” he says, a little too quickly. “But it’s my responsibility to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I just can’t figure out what caused it...” He rubs his forehead with furrowed brows. “It’s like my brain is filled with fog.”

Bruce frowns at that admission.

“Anyway,” Tony goes on, “now that you’re here, I’ve got something I wanna show you...”

He gets up from the chair, making for the 3D-hologram area at the other end of the room. But only a few steps in, his head rushes without warning.

“Woah,” he breathes, grabbing a table for support as darkness clouds his field of vision. “What the fuck was that?”

“That was your blood pressure screaming at you to finally get some rest,” Bruce assesses, stepping over to steady Tony as the man sinks dizzily to the floor. “And I agree with it.” Gently, he pushes Tony's head between his knees.

“That’s unfair,” the other man grumbles. “Back in college, I used to pull five all nighters in a row, and that involved a lot more partying.“

“You’re an old man now,” Bruce teases, but his voice is tinged with concern.

The engineer mumbles something into his knees that sounds a lot like “'Should see yourself.”

"Better?" Bruce asks after a minute, resting a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Hmm.” Tony nods without looking up.

“Stay put. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t drink strange herbs dissolved in water,” Tony says with a shudder. “You know I'm a full-blooded coffee addict.”

“Trust me with this one—it's not the normal kind. Just stay there until I'm back.”

Tony, of course, doesn't listen. When Bruce returns a few minutes later, he’s made it back to his desk on wobbly legs and is squinting at the tablet. Bruce wriggles it out of his fingers with an exasperated sigh and presses a cup of something hot and steaming into his hand.

“This... doesn't smell like tea,” Tony says warily.

“It's Chai. The real one, not the nonsense they sell at Starbucks.” He watches as Tony takes a tentative sip, then another, and a bit of colour returns to his cheeks.

“Where’d you learn that?” Tony nods at the cup.

“In Kolkata,” Bruce replies. His gaze goes a bit distant as he adds, “I miss it sometimes, you know? It's the weirdest kind of place, but it took me in.”

“Why did you come down here, actually?” Tony asks, now looking up at him intensely.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bruce shrugs. “Guess I wasn't the only one.”

“Yeah.” Tony gives him an exhausted smile. “Tell me about it...”

Joining a mission after four straight days of staying awake was definitely not the best idea, but Tony isn't exactly known for making sensible choices.

Luckily, the battle finishes quickly, leaving him sitting on the edge of a curb, knowing full well that his slumped-over posture is looking anything but heroic to the camera crews filtering in from all sides. On the other hand, it would certainly be worse publicity if he took a swan dive in front of the assembled press, which, unfortunately, is a very likely scenario considering the way the world is currently wobbling around the edges.

He’s just trying to gather the strength to make it upright and join Nat in talking to the reporters when he spots a blurred figure approaching quickly from behind a corner, raised gun aimed right at the assassin.

Tony fires without thinking. He might have forgotten that the repulsors were still set to full power, because the next thing that follows is an ear-splitting bang and a cloud of smoke rising up from what used to be a bus stop.

“What the fuck, Stark?!”

He blinks when a very upset Nat is suddenly standing over him, and seriously, that's one of the moments when he understands why people are sometimes afraid of her.

“You can't complete a single mission without destroying New York?” she demands. “What was that for? Trying out your new tech? Impressing the tabloids?”

“Calm down,” Tony hisses, more than a little annoyed. “We didn't get all of them, there was someone sneaking up on us. I just saved your ass.”

“What?” Nat's angry expression morphs into confusion as she turns around and surveys the area. “There's nobody here, Tony.”

“No, no, that's not right.“ He gets to his feet shakily, steadying himself against a streetlamp until the familiar blackness fades from his vision. He uses the suit's sensors to zoom in at the heap of rubble, but true to Nat's word, there is no sign of an attacker.

“I thought I... never mind,” he mumbles.

“You know your little stunt was caught on camera, right?” Nat asks, still annoyed, but with a bit of concern now mixed into her tone. “And that I've got to report it to SHIELD if my team members have health issues that can negatively influence their ability to - “

“That's not  - I'm not having flashbacks, okay?” he interrupts her, anger flaring up. “I just - I thought I saw something. Someone. Won't happen again.”

“I wasn't  talking about PTSD, Stark. You are aware that sleep deprivation can lead to hallucinations?”

“I'm  - gosh.” Tony rubs his eyes wearily. He really, really doesn't have the energy for this argument right now. “That's none of your business.”

“It becomes my business as soon as it compromises the mission.” Nat gives him a glare, but her eyes have gone soft. “Go home, Tony. I'll handle SHIELD and the press. Do us all a favour and get some sleep.”

“If only it were that easy,” he mutters under his breath. But he fires up his thrusters all the same and takes off into the sky, decidedly not looking back at the disaster he’s caused.

Tony wakes up drenched in cold sweat, his breaths coming in short, painful gasps. The sheets next to him are empty.

“Jarvis?” he croaks.

“It is 3:52 a.m., Sir. You are in your quarters at Stark Tower. It is currently drizzling, with a high probability of heavy rains for the coming day. You have been asleep for one hour and 37 minutes. You started to exhibit signs of distress sixteen minutes ago.” The AI hesitates a moment. “You were also talking in your sleep. If I may, Sir, would you like to know the current status of Miss Potts?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathes.

“I can access a video feed of the security cameras in the Hong Kong hotel she is currently residing at, if you'd like to see it.”

Tony nods weakly into the darkness, trusting Jarvis' ultrasharp sensors to pick it up.

The screen above the bed lights up, displaying a slightly pixelated image of Pepper in business attire, taking notes on a Starkpad while nodding politely at an equally formally dressed man seated across from her.

A small field with name and designation appears next to the man's head, revealing his position as the head of one of Stark Asia's subsidiaries.

“Thanks, J,” Tony says hoarsely after a few minutes. “You can close it now.”

The AI doesn't reply, but the room illuminates with a warm light that leaves no shadows in the corners. Bless Jarvis for knowing what he needs when Tony himself doesn't.

He sits up slowly, his fingers gliding over the soft fabric of the blankets, then feeling for the bathrobe that's draped over a nearby chair. He lets his fingertips run over the slightly uneven wall while he makes his way to the bathroom. Then he rests his hand on the doorknob, feeling its solidness.

Real, he reminds himself, because sometimes the present is elusive, sometimes it’s so much harder than it should be to figure out what's there and what isn't.

He sits on the bathroom tiles for a while, enjoying the chill seeping into his bones, anchoring him. He thinks of Pepper somewhere in Hong Kong, far, far away. Safe.

He knows that sleep is not going to come to him now.

When he finally steps into the shower, Jarvis has already adjusted the temperature and his morning playlist is issuing softly from the speakers.

“Honestly, I don't get the sense of ‘brunching’,” Tony states while tossing down his third cup of coffee that morning. “Maria's a grown-up girl, she should host a party like normal adults do. Get drunk, let loose, bully Fury into singing Karaoke - you know what I mean.”

“Not everyone's like you, Tony,” Steve replies good-naturedly, but still with this slightly lecturing note in his voice that sometimes drives Tony crazy. “Some people like to celebrate their birthday without it ending in fistfights and drunken guests throwing up everywhere.”

“Hey, that was one time!” Tony retorts, “And it's not a fistfight if armour is involved.” He reaches over the extensive buffet to grab the coffee pot and refill his cup.

“Haven't you had enough of that already?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Can't you let a guy have his small vices?” Tony deflects. He tries to scoop sugar from a delicate porcelain bowl into his cup, but his hands are jittering so much that half of it ends up on the tablecloth.

With a small sigh, Steve takes the spoon from his hands, adding sugar and stirring calmly. “You sure you're alright?” he adds, handing the cup back to Tony.

“Yes, Spangles. Stop mother-henning me,” Tony replies. He suppresses a belch when the first sip of coffee doesn't quite settle well.

They stand in silence while he sips the beverage, until Steve spots Sam on the other side of the room and goes over to talk to him, and Tony is left squirming uncomfortably. He’s full of nervous energy just waiting to be transformed into new inventions in his workshop, but he still has to wait through another few hours of polite conversation and boring toasts before he will be able to disappear.

Ironically, today is the first morning in a while that he actually feels like he might be able to sleep if he tried hard enough. But the prospect of everyone's irritation if he misses Hill's birthday celebration kept him away from bed.

He's thus settled on caffeine to fight the tiredness and reduce the headache throbbing behind his temples. The coffee has so far accomplished its job of keeping him upright without getting dizzy, but it also makes his stomach burn and causes a vague feeling of nausea that only increases as time goes on.

“You haven't tried the cake,” a kind voice says from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Here, have a piece,” Laura Barton offers, holding it out. Then she seems to think better of it and sets it on the counter in front of Tony. “I made it, not Clint, so you don't have to worry about getting poisoned.”

Tony tries to come up with a way of politely declining, his stomach somersaulting at the thought of food, but Laura has an aura about her that makes it almost impossible to say no. It reminds him faintly of Pepper. He has no illusions about who calls the shots in the Barton household.

“Thanks,“ he says, taking a tentative bite. He has to swallow twice to get the piece down, and then he can feel it sitting heavily at the end of his throat. He stifles another belch that brings with it the sour taste of acid.

“It's great,” he lies while taking a deep breath, attempting to will the nausea away.

It doesn't work. Instead, he can feel bile creeping up his throat. The urge to gag is suddenly overwhelming.

“Are you okay?” Laura asks.

Tony just presses the plate back into her hand. “Sorry,” he chokes out before making a break for the bathroom.

He only makes it to the sink before hot and bitter liquid is forcing its way upwards and splashing into the basin. It still carries the smell of coffee, making him even more nauseous. He barely manages to catch a breath before he heaves again, bringing up another gush of vomit.

The throbbing behind his forehead intensifies and he closes his eyes against the pain. He’s  coughing and sputtering, steadying himself on the basin, when he hears the door to the bathroom open.

“Occupied,” he croaks. But there's already a hand on his back, patting him hesitantly.

“Tony, what's going on?” a voice asks, and yep, out of all people that could have come to pee at this very moment, it has to be Captain Fucking Righteous.

“Nothing,” Tony pants, “Go away - ugh.”

He retches again and brings up a mouthful of bile.

“Are you sick?” Steve's hand now moves towards his neck to feel his temperature, and no, this is not happening.

“It’s nothing.” Tony bats his hand away. “Just overdid it with the coffee today. You were right, be happy.”

“I wasn't - that's not what I'm thinking,” Steve says defensively.

“But you were also wrong,” Tony continues, spitting into the basin. “Apparently, brunching doesn't reduce the risk of people ending up barfing.”

Steve ignores his banter. “Can I get you anything?”

A bed, a new head, and truckload of aspirin are all high on his list, but Tony settles for the easiest.

“Glass of water and some mint would be marvellous,” he says, and Steve is gone within a second. The guy is so helpful that it's a plague.

To the best of his ability, he avoids looking at the brownish mess he’s made. His stomach is still more than queasy as he starts the water.

By the time Steve returns, the evidence is cleared and Tony's game face is reestablished.

The anniversary of his parents' death has always been a night without the remotest hope of catching sleep. It is also the one night a year during which Pepper doesn't say anything when Tony drinks himself senseless.

In earlier years, Rhodey used to always be around on that date—ever since the very first time in college when he'd found Tony passed out in a puddle of his own sick with a BAC of 0.3. Then Pepper moved in, and Tony would be moody and irritable all night, demanding her to leave him alone, secretly praying she'd stay. She always did.

But this time, Pepper is still in Hong Kong - the negotiations taking longer than expected - and after the first few glasses of scotch, he finds himself turning his phone over in his hands, contemplating calling a few of his old business contacts and inviting himself to one of those parties that have more recreational substances floating around than actual food.

But he doesn't. Instead, he pulls up the second number on his speed dial. It takes less than a full ring before Rhodey picks up.

“Hey man,” Tony greets jovially, “What're you up to?”

Then, after a second, he quietly adds, “It's bad tonight.”

The can you come over goes unsaid. It's only a few minutes before the War Machine armour makes a soft landing on the balcony. Rhodey steps out of the suit and into the warmth of the living room.

“Here.” Tony turns around from the bar, a bit unsteady on his feet, and presses a glass into Rhodey's hand. “To all those sweepers that keep the roads free of ice.”

Rhodey clinks his glass against Tony's, his eyes wide and sad. Tony doesn't pass out that night, but Rhodey almost wishes he did.

The annual Maria Stark Foundation Gala takes place a few days after the anniversary, all of which Tony spends on a single workshop binge, running on coffee, AC/DC, and the deliberate aversion of any thoughts not related to R&D.

Pepper, who finally returns after a successful conclusion of “the greatest bargaining endeavor in history” (in the words of her PA), hauls him out of the lab a few hours before the Gala, threatening to fly right back to Hong Kong if he doesn't shower and dress up.

Tony's head his swimming when he bends over the sink to wash his face. He feels weak, almost feverish. When he starts to shave, his hands are trembling so hard that his usually perfect goatee comes out looking more like a modern art caricature of symmetry than anything else.

Pepper eyes his crooked beard, his haggard face, and the black circles beneath his eyes with a frown when she hands him the cue cards for his speech. She’s ushered into the changing room by an assistant before she can comment.

Tony manages a speech that leaves the audience laughing themselves to tears, without actually comprehending a single word of what he says. All the time, he clings to the lectern, painfully aware only of the weakness in his limbs and his own heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears.

He staggers down from the stage just to see Pepper emerging from the changing room in a breathtaking sleeveless gown. He might have been swaying a bit, because her eyes go wide upon seeing him and she hurries in his direction.

“You look fantastic,” he manages to say before the static in his ears grows deafening and the ground rushes up to meet him.

He comes to with his head in Pepper's lap and a group of assistants encircling him, heatedly debating the best course of action.

“Hey,” she says, her expression serious. “You back with us?”

“Hmm,” he grunts, trying to focus on his surroundings through the dizziness and pulsing headache.

“Can you get up?” she asks.

“Yeah, of course,” he mumbles. But his legs are jelly when he tries to get them under him. “Or maybe I'll just stay here for a while. The view is great,” he says weakly.

Pepper doesn't even give an answer. Instead, she pushes an arm behind his back to sit him up. With the help of Happy, they get Tony to his feet and manage to get him to the couch in the backstage room.

Tony sinks heavily onto the cushions. Pepper sits down next to him, waving at Happy to close the door and wait outside.

“So. What's going on?” she asks calmly, but Tony knows her too well not to hear the panic barely contained in her voice. “And don't dare tell me that you're fine, because I’m not an idiot.”

“I'm okay, Pepper - quit giving me that look,” he starts.

“By what definition was that ‘okay’?” she interrupts in an icy tone.

“Okay, as in, I swear there’s nothing majorly wrong with me. Just had a bit of trouble sleeping over the past few weeks,” he concedes. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Except for you passing out in the middle of a public Gala.”

“Where would be the fun in life without the little surprises?” he jokes in a weak voice. He can feel fatigue washing over him in waves, making his body numb and heavy.

“Sleep deprivation, that's all it is?” Pepper probes. “ Can I trust you on this? I won't regret it if I don't haul you to a hospital right now?”

“You can trust me on everything, you know that.” A moment of pain washes over her face, so brief that he nearly misses it.

“Hey. That was two years ago. Look at me, Pep.” It takes a lot of energy to lift his arm and reach out to touch her face. He looks her straight into the eyes. “I'm not dying. I promise.”

“Okay,” she says after a moment. She doesn't look completely convinced, but it seems she decides to let it go for now. “You can't go back in like this. And we can't leave the Gala early without the press going wild.”

“Trust me, I don't wanna move,” Tony says. The world is turning fuzzy before his eyes now, greyness creeping in from the edges. “Nothing wrong with backstage couches - I'm speaking from experience. Let's just stay here for a bit.”

Pepper bites her lip to suppress a smile.

He lets his head fall down below her shoulder, nestling his face into the soft spot between her neck and collarbone. He is vaguely aware of her hands in his hair, a warm and steady presence holding him. And then, in an uncharacteristically nonchalant fashion, Tony Stark falls asleep.

[thatyanderecritic]

Deathless

Title: Deathless

Media: Book, Author: Catherynne Valente

Yandere(s): Koschei the Deathless (Or as Julie and I like to call him: “Kosher”)

Yandere Scale: 1/5 (Julie: 0/5)

Criticism written by: Kai

Editor: Julie

Before we begin, Julie and I have two different views on this book. To keep things clean, I did the review while Julie did an analysis; which you can read here.

The Review:

Sigh… Kai here, back with another review. This time I’ll be reviewing the confusing and difficult to follow novel: Deathless. Bear with me as we go down this rabbit hole of a review.

Now booting Kai 2.0 … Version: Salty

Deathless is a story about… uh… Deathless is a tale about a girl named Marya (Mary? Maria? Idk how to pronounce any of these Russian names if it’s not Ivan or Dimitri.) who get whisked away by the tsar of life: Kosher- I mean Koschei and become his wife. In the beginning of the book, Marya was seduced by Koshei and his magical lifestyle. After succeeding in the three tasked made by Baba Yaga (yeah, IDFK. Apparently the Baba Yaga and Koschei are siblings), Baba Yaga gives her blessing to Marya and Koschei’s wedding. But Marya was warned that she would leave Koschei in the future and fall in love with a man named Ivan. Marya swears that’ll never happen; she’ll kill Ivan and eat his heart. Immediately starting in part 2, Marya falls in love with Ivan in the middle of fighting a war with Koschei’s brother (IDFK man, this shit is hard to follow). Marya runs away with Ivan and together they suffer in hunger and poverty. Koschei goes running to Marya and begs for her to take him back. Marya locks Koschei up in her basement (fuck man, I’m so lost) and had Ivan promise to never look in the basement. For a time, things seem to be well with Marya fucking Koschei in the day and banging Ivan at night. But Ivan, being a nosy motherfucker, looks in the basement and discovers Koschei. After Koschei tricks Ivan to give him some water to drink, Koschei regain his magic and kidnaps Marya. Now in part 3 (the final part), Marya and Koschei are living a happy married life in a small Russian town with happy villagers. Things are going swimmingly till Marya gives birth to a little girl… that little girl being the embodiment of Koschei’s death. Koschei died and Marya is freed. Turns out that Koschei had the two of them trapped in a peaceful dream within an egg. But the thing is, Koschei’s death is hidden within an egg… which is why he died (Don’t look at me, I’m fucking tripping as it is as I’m recalling the story). Now back in the real world, Marya looks for Ivan; who was dying from old age. After watching Ivan die, Marya moves on and discovers a town like the town in the dream. There, all her fairytale friends are living there as humans.Only the Baba Yaga recalls Marya and explains how Koschei’s brother won the war and turn all the mystical into the normal. Koschei is still alive in the village and Marya decided to visit him to see if he remembers her… I guess. The ending is ambiguous.

Anyways… what the fuck did I just read? Well… Julie and I technically didn’t read the full novel. Our knowledge comes from a combination of: an 11 hour audiobook of Deathless (which we didn’t finish because we were confused as fuck), the wikipedia summary, two reviews on Deathless, and the actual hard copy of the actual book (which we didn’t finish because we were confused as fuck). Let me just complain here and say this book is damn near unreadable and almost unintelligible. First, people talk as if they’re the goddamn Riddler from Batman. Characters were unable to straight up say what they mean, phrases have double meaning, and it was like reading the writings of Dr. Seuss’s less talented brother. Descriptions were just a fucking pain in the ass to comprehend. Everything about this book was a fucking mental gymnastics. Julie and I had to stop every five minutes to decode what the hell is going on.

You see that? All that flowery words bullshit? Marya is just throwing up. JUST SAY SHE’S THROWING UP AND MOVE ON. CHRIST. It took Julie and I three minutes to figure out what this description was suppose to be about. And this was one of the easier descriptions. It doesn’t even help that the story itself is just plain nonsensical. It felt like I was reading the words of the author after she puked out alphabet soup. Already, Deathless was basis on a Russian folktale that was already wild. With the combination of awful dialogue and confusing description, it was just a maze of a book to traverse.

I get some people will argue with me that this is a good book. For one, I probably just don’t understand it because it’s not my culture. Sure, you might be right. But so is the author… Catherynne is an American. Not Russian. Besides, the original folktale that Deathless is based on was easier to follow than this crap. Next argument some might have is that “Deathless is too sophisticated for your simple mind to handle.” No. It’s not. It’s ridiculously complicated for no reason. Complicated does not mean well written. There is nothing wrong with writing something simpler… you’re trying to create a novel that all adults regardless of age can understand. Truth be told, the writing in Deathless reminds me of the stuff you’ll find in creative writing class. This sort of story would get notes everywhere saying “Less description. More action” or “What do you mean? Clarify.” You're not the next Da Vinci code but a storyteller. Can’t tell a story if it ain’t readable. To compare this book, I would compare it to those research papers you would read in college. Lots of information but written by someone who’s trying to sound smart.

Moving on from my bitching, let’s talk about the one thing people care about the most: the yandere and characters. Based on what Julie and I were able to figure out, Koschie is the supposive yandere here. First let’s talk about him. Besides talking like the chester cat from Alice in Wonderland, Koschie was a surprisingly passionate guy who really cares about Marya. The best scenes with Koschie are the scenes when he isn’t talking and just physically showing his physical affections for Marya (lol). You know the phrase: “You look better with your mouth closed”? That fits perfectly for Koschie. Koschie’s physical interactions with Marya is the only straightforward thing with this entire novel.It was the rain in a desert. Anyways… even though Koschie was a passionate guy, it doesn’t make him a yandere. He breaks many of our rules… but the biggest one he broke was that Koschie still fucks other women besides Marya and keeps a collection of his past wives in a factory. I know the anon explains that these wives were actually Marya in another cycle? But honestly, it doesn’t change anything for us. Btw, anon, you’re seriously a champion for figuring that out. Julie and I did not know at all that this was supposed to be a cycle at all. Shit… I feel like we’re a part of game theory for trying to figure out what this author even means. Spoiler alert: If you have to do a conspiracy theory on your novel, your book ain’t that great.  

Sorry… back to Koschie. Anyways, Koschie says some pretty words here and there. He sounds pretty yandere on paper… I guess. But Koschie bangs other chicks and lets Marya bang other dudes too on the side. Sure, I guess this is a progressive poly relationship. Good for them. But poly relationship plus yandere? It just doesn’t mix. This ain’t it chief. Koschie skims on the edge of being a yandere and being not a yandere. Sure he kidnaps Marya, kill some dudes that have the name Ivan, and say some possessive shit to her, but the actions just doesn’t line up. I don’t know… with the cycle theory in play here, I just see Koschie as a broken man who’s trying to reclaim control over his life. Not exactly a yandere per say. Like imagine: getting cuckold by some normal human, over and over again. Shit, I would go crazy too. I feel really bad for Koschie for falling in love with/having a wife like Marya. Apparently, Koschie and Marya are the same type of people but idk man… Marya is kinda of a crazy bitch too.

I’ll just briefly talk about Marya now. As we all know, a female lead defines a yandere. And Marya? Yikes man. I don’t know where to start with her. First off, Marya somehow managed to be both smart and stupid at the same time. We see that she’s clever enough to solve Baba Yaga’s tasks but she so goddamn stupid. Because of her curiosity, she’s extremely meddlesome and got Koschie almost killed even though he told her not to fuck with the egg… yet she fucks with the egg anyways. Then we jump to part two where Marya is more jaded and blames Koschie for all her misfortune (Idk). It’s not like he did anything bad to her. Honestly, reading their interactions, Koschie has been nothing but a gentleman to her. Besides the fact he bangs other women and like to do some weird power play on Marya, he’s pretty chill. If anything, she brought her own misfortune herself. She chased after Koschie because she’s fascinated by magic and wanted to be part of that world. Now that she’s part of that world, she doesn’t want to bare the burden of it anymore and return back with the humans; with Ivan. Btw, Marya wanted to sort of “keep” both Ivan and Koschie at the same time (because she’s thirsty). I mean… I get the sentiment, but Koschie literally stated that he wasn’t comfortable with that but Marya had her bitchy mode where she scratched Koschie and told him not to talk to her in that way (Weird flex but okay?). Ivan wasn’t cool with the arrangement either, hence why Marya left with Ivan. But oh the irony. Marya left with Koschie to avoid suffering, hunger, and fascination for magic but now with Ivan, Marya returned back to a life of suffering, hunger, and the normal. Again, more irony, Marya and Ivan have a fight because of their lifestyle. This is the part where Koschie comes begging at her door. And Marya, only being able to think with her vagina now, bangs Koschie and locks him in her basement. Just like how Koschie did a weird power play over Marya, Marya now does a power play over Koschie. One of the more fucked up lines Marya said to Koschie was along the lines of, “Lol. Look at you. Trapped in my basement… waiting for my attention while you abandon the war outside.” Like mega yikes my dude. I know Julie and I asked for a twisted female protagonist, but we asked for a relatable twisted female protagonist. Not… this. I guess Marya is strong? But… weird. Honestly… I lost any relatability with Marya the minute she started bouncing between Ivan and Koschie. And with how… sadistic she became towards the end, I don’t blame Koschie’s action. That’s a broken man with possible stockholm syndrome at this point.

Anyways… to summarize… I don’t know what I just read. Story is confusing. Characters are weird. I just have a bunch of puzzle pieces in my hand and a couple of yandere like lines. I suppose I can appreciate Koschie as an aesthetic. He says some pretty neat things, physically sounds sexy, and does some yandere like actions. So… I give him one yandere pity point for the attempt.... He might have shine better if the story was actually good.

Overall score: 1/10