#but they get the point and vibes across

[canichangemyblogname]

Other 9-1-1 Fans: I hope Buck & Tommy get married in season 8. 😍

Me, familiar with Tim Minear’s writing: We’re in for three seasons and at least two breakups before those men go on their second date. 🚬

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 120

Danny falls through a natural portal into dc. Another dimension. Cue language barriers.

No one can understand him and vice versa. He fell through as phantom in the middle of some villain fight. So first thing he witnesses is chaos and destruction.

After use of his powers, ghostly wail and his blasts he bolts. He can’t understand these people and wants nothing to do with them.

So why are these people chasing him. And tell the green one his ring does nothing. He just wants to get home.

Just Danny accidentally messing things up trying to get home.

Bonus if either Cass connects with him. Those two absolutely need more interactions. Cause they’d be cool. Or for Deadman to speak ghost with Danny.

[oddly-casual]

I love Jazzy, just as a general rule, but something that caught my eye in the beginning was the little ways Jazz’s brother treats his brother like shit.

Looking at the anime, it makes sense why they censored the women and kept the mess to a minimum for animations sake, but at least he’s clothed and awake. It makes it seem as though Jazz’s older brother is doing it for the soul purpose of being a bastard.

But looking at the manga, he’s asleep. The curtains and couch are torn, the mess is purely clothes, food, and drinks.

His brother isn’t even awake to gloat. The manga gives the impression that Jazz’s brother disregards his space on a regular, to the point where he feels comfortable passing out drunk half naked in his brothers space.

I know it’s not just me, but having a room- that’s supposed to be a safe space- violated repeated by sights and smells you don’t know? This poor kid has no sense of privacy or safety. His family literally runs on the idea that if you get robbed it’s your fault.

[dawnslight-aegis]

3. the empress - femininity, nurturing, beauty, creativity, abundance

(others)

[bakafurai]

Are they......you know....

[batsplat]

wait, is there a dovi/jorge feud???? i didn't know this!! also thank you so much for all you do for this community ❤️

not the only ask I've gotten about this and... look, rather than doing a proper write up that would take forever, I'm just gonna give my top ten fun... facts? bits of trivia. tidbits related to the two of them. quite long tidbits, on second glance. the highlight reel, if you will

(1) that time andrea dovizioso made 14 year old jorge lorenzo cry

the two of them already raced each other before the start of their grand prix careers, competing for the first time in 2001 in the cev when dovi was around 15 and jorge around 14. in riveras tobia's biography, here's jorge talking about their first fight:

I led the way at the start and Dovizioso and I escaped. It was our first head-to-head encounter, the first time we raced each other. My dad had heard that Dovi was a really clever rider and he warned me before the race. But just like in 1998 at Jerez, with Olive, I acted like a dummy and pushed for the whole race. I kept looking behind me to see the bastard still there! It was impossible to shake him off, he was watching me the whole race until the last lap. Three comers from the end I could hear his engine getting closer and I saw his shadow to my left, but he didn't come past. I thought to myself "This guy is going to try something in a second!" I decided I had to on a tighter line and close the door. Sure enough, Dovi went wider through that comer and then dived up the inside. I didn't close the door in time and tried to get in his slipstream, desperately hoping I could get him the next corner, but I ran wide and he won. I came back in tears, I didn't even want to go to the podium, I felt so cheated. I'd been on the limit for the whole race and I felt like I deserved the win more than he did.

so that's a nice and positive start! there's something charming about how even fifteen year old dovi was an absolute menace on last laps

also about that race:

'Jorge beat Dovi in Braga but in the previous race at Most, what a tantrum!' recalls Juanito, laughing. 'He didn't even want to go to the podium, he was crying like a baby! I can still see Dani (Antatriain) talking to him, trying to convince him. In the end he went but he didn't want to look at anybody.'

(2) the photo finish

in 2004, they were rivals in 125cc - a year in which dovi claimed the title and jorge was p4 in the standings. in the very first grand prix ever at the lusail circuit (pretty eventful weekend, you have to say), jorge and dovi crossed the line at the exact same moment

(3) dovi's top three favourite career win

dovi and jorge progressed through the categories at the exact same rate, and after their 125cc rivalry they continued fighting in 250cc. they were title rivals in both 2006 and 2007, with jorge's aprilia winning out both times against dovi's underpowered honda. (the general pattern was that dovi clawed back a bunch of points from jorge in the wet - jorge, with perhaps the exception of a few years in the premier class until around 2013, has never been much of a wet weather racers, while it's always been one of dovi's strongest traits.) for dovi's 300th career start in 2019, he was asked what his top three wins were - and one of his picks was from way back when in 2007

I'd recommend the race! which... well, I did in the race rec post - and I can only reiterate that these two kids do not acknowledge each other, not good vibes at all

(4) jorge's thoughts on young dovi from 2008

Jorge has a lot of respect for Andrea Dovizioso and feels that his two 250cc world titles have even more prestige because he had to beat the Italian to win them. 'You wouldn't label Dovizioso as fast, particularly, but he's much faster than he looks. He doesn't set many pole positions but he is always up front in a race, fighting to win. He is very intelligent and you can't trust him an inch on the last lap. He has been faithful to Honda, he has great belief in them. His negative side is that he tends to play the victim too much. He'll say that if his bike had a better engine or if it was a bit faster he would win. He's even said that if he was on the same bike as me he'd give me a hiding. I think he looks for excuses too often sometimes, but as a rider and a person I don't have a bad word to say about him.'

some dovi traits read as very familiar, from how he's a better racer than qualifier to the intelligence to the last lap prowess. as for jorge saying dovi plays victim too much? well

also this:

ER: Don't you think that Dovizioso wanted to be World Champion too in 2006 and 2007? Don't you think he gave everything to achieve it? JL: He will think he gave his maximum but he will be lying to himself because nobody does that. Nobody gets close to their maximum, not even me. He will think that he didn't win because he was riding a Honda. There are very few sportsmen who will say, I deserve what happened to me and there are no excuses. I didn't know how to do any better and I've done things wrong.' That is the only way to be the best, the only way. People who make excuses don't get to the top. I know riders who haven't made it for just that reason.

plus ça change

(5) jorge's thoughts on young dovi from 2018

when they were doing their thing as ducati teammates (bickering), here is one of the things jorge said about dovi:

dovi's been trying to undermine jorge's morale his WHOLE career... even when they were but teenagers... love it when you can really tell someone's been sitting on something for over a decade

(6) "also lorenzo is not my friend"

both of them moved up to motogp in 2008, jorge with factory yamaha and dovi with satellite honda. dovi had a very strong rookie season and finished in p5, only sixteen points behind jorge in p4 (who after a promising first few races had spent a lot of time that season crashing). after that, their fortunes diverged. dovi did not have a particularly happy time in the factory honda team and needed to do some shrewd negotiating to be retained by them for 2011 in that three-man squad, while jorge of course won the championship in 2010

here's a deep cut from 2011, a season where much of the excitement and drama was caused by marco simoncelli alone. jorge had exchanged tense words with sic in estoril, one race before simoncelli was responsible for a crash where dani broke his collarbone. the crash and sic's subsequent penalty meant that the three-way fight between jorge, dovi and valentino became one for the podium, with dovi and valentino eventually grabbing the two remaining spots behind casey. but during the race, jorge had executed a... questionable manoeuvre on dovi, one that did have some similarities to the sic/dani incident. given jorge's strong previous comments on racing standards, unsurprisingly the journalists pounced on this incident in the post-race presser and ask the podium sitters about it. here is the clip:

in this clip, dovi essentially says it was a dangerous move from jorge, but he wasn't sure what jorge's intent had been and he needs to watch the footage again. valentino (who had been the most outspokenly critical of sic of the three of them earlier in the presser) takes the opportunity presented to him to have a bit of a potshot at jorge. he says that dovi doesn't have the best relationship with sic but jorge had done something pretty similar in the race... at which point dovi goes "also lorenzo is not my friend"

which, you know. not exactly a major incident, but I find it very charming dovi felt the need to clarify that, actually, he doesn't like either of them. valentino also adds that by jorge's own standards, surely he too should have gotten a penalty. not exactly a meeting of jorge's biggest fans hm

(7) mapping eight-gate

well I can't leave it out, can I

so in 2017 jorge switches from yamaha to ducati and does not have a great time of it. a lot of weekends, he's just too slow, other times he shoots to the front of a race at the start (typically not great news for the rest of the field in his yamaha days) and then chews up his tyres before gradually dropping like a stone back through the field. at some point that year it became a bit of a running gag - especially when you saw he was the only big name to be picking a soft tyre and just went... buddy we ALL know how this is gonna end....

while this was happening, his teammate dovi was for the first time in his premier class career in championship contention. an extremely close title fight throughout the year with five protagonists until pretty late in the season, it eventually went to a title decider in valencia between dovi and marc. you know, the kind of year where every point counts. the race where marc put a bit of daylight between himself and dovi was phillip island, with marc winning a great dogfight out front while dovi had a bit of a horror show of a weekend. this meant that a lot would have to go right for dovi to have a chance of still winning the title... and sepang was already a match point race for marc

ducati had not won a championship since their 2007 title, courtesy of one casey stoner. after that year, their bike became steadily less competitive every season, reaching a nadir around the 2011-13-ish period. so by the time 2017 rolled around, they wanted this so so badly - even if they wouldn't have expected dovi to lead the charge. dovi had only narrowly beaten out iannone in the 'who's going to be fired for our shiny new lorenzo hire' contest of 2016, and really it was supposed to be jorge who was carrying ducati's dreams on his shoulders. but, never mind, they were throwing everything behind dovi now... no stone left unturned

which brings us, of course, to the subject of team orders. this discourse really took off at the penultimate race of the season at sepang, but was already brewing before that - and in phillip island, satellite ducati rider redding had been told early in the race to let dovi past

here from marc at sepang:

dovi had been in great form all weekend at sepang - and with his wet weather prowess being what it was, really there shouldn't have been any need for team orders at all. but he got a sluggish start, and the race unfolded from there... until eventually jorge was in first, dovi was in second and marc in fourth. in those positions, marc would have clinched the title there

and then, jorge got a message on his dashboard. suggested mapping: mapping 8. pit boards and dashboards and all sorts of boards will feature various codes during races, most of them completely innocuous - but of course they are a healthy source of all sorts of conspiracies. the timing of this one was certainly... notable, and speculation immediately started about how it might be a way of telling jorge that he should swap positions with dovi

jorge didn't end up letting dovi pass - it is questionable whether he really would have done so with what would have been his first ducati win on the line. in the end, he made a mistake that let dovi through so that dovi claimed the win anyway, keeping himself in mathematical contention in valencia. and jorge did say afterwards he was keeping dovi's title hopes in mind, kind of

jorge also said he hadn't gotten any message indicating team orders, and of course nobody at ducati confirmed that mapping eight did have anything to do with team orders

for what it's worth, this is what dovi said about their relationship at this stage:

lovely! let's see what the vibes are like a few months later

anyway, onto valencia. this race was pretty boring despite being a title decider, but the jorge/dovi bits were just unequivocally the weekend's most enjoyable aspect and rather nicely spiced up the whole thing. dovi's chances were always slim going in, given he'd have to win the race and marc would have to barely get any points at all... but still, you never know, right? marc could always crash (narrator: he did almost crash). jorge plays coy early in the weekend about the whole 'helping dovi out thing', and basically just started putting in place...? ... very specific conditions...? under which he'd help:

so during the actual race, dovi got stuck behind jorge in p5, with marc ahead of both of them. valencia is traditionally not a fantastic track to overtake at... so even if dovi had been faster, it's not like he'd have an easy time clearing jorge and cracking on. but they were beginning to drift further away from dani in p3 as ducati watched on, increasingly unamused by what was happening - and the tv cameras were of course kind enough to repeatedly show the ducati box looking deeply unamused. again, they went for the good old mapping eight message, which, hey, that could mean anything! they sure did keep showing it to jorge though, almost like he wasn't paying attention to it

eventually, they abandon all subtlety and go for a pit board message that does just straight-up tell jorge to swap positions. jorge kept ignoring the messages, lap after lap, and he never ended up letting dovi past. eventually they both crashed and marc claimed the title with a p3 finish, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway, but... still. the feeling was that this might things rather awkward inside of ducati

publicly, ducati was extremely keen to smooth over the whole controversy, saying they totally weren't mad at jorge blatantly ignoring team orders. jorge had, after all, explained to them (and the media, repeatedly) that he had totally been intending to help dovi by dragging him closer to dani

Giving his take on events, Lorenzo acknowledged that he ignored Ducati’s instruction because he felt Dovizioso’s chances would be boosted by having him directly ahead. “Even looking at this [dashboard] suggestion, I keep pushing until the end, because I knew it was the best thing for me, for Ducati and for Dovi,” said Lorenzo. “I helped him to improve his pace by one or two tenths, to be as close as possible to the first group. My intention was, and it was the case, that we arrive at the first group. If he had the option to win, I would have gone wide and let him pass. But unfortunately it was not like that. Maybe in some corners Dovi was close and I slow down a little bit his pace, but in general terms, having my wheel in front of him made him improve slightly his pace. I helped him stayed closer to the front group. “I knew Dovi was struggling, I knew his pace during all the weekend, and I knew he was making the best pace of the weekend just in the race. It was [because of the] help from my wheel. I’m happy because I was not wrong. If I was wrong and slowing him, I would be very sorry. But it’s not like that, my feeling was true.”

which, you know. is it really that easy to tell how much faster you are than someone who's sitting on your rear tyre? who's to say. dovi did certainly seem rather keen to get past

anyhow, of course there were plenty of fun dramatics post-race:

'our rider ignored team suggestions not team orders' is a great line, fairs. there's plenty more of this from ducati, some excellent spin doctoring - and dovi was extremely magnanimous about what had happened:

the whole thing was pretty undignified from all non-dovi parties, but it was also very funny so who's to say if it was bad or not

(8) runner-up-gate

let's check in on them in 2018, the second and ultimately last year in which they were teammates. remember that 'undermining morale' quote from above? those are from early 2018, after dovi says he wouldn't be surprised to see jorge elsewhere the following season. so, once jorge has complained that dovi had been trying to put him down his entire career, comes this:

so that's something. jorge, dovi and dani have a three-in-one crash in jerez, after which some fingers are pointed but it all remains fairly civil, and a bit later dovi says that jorge's approach doesn't work at ducati:

by the summer break, jorge's results had gotten better, but it was already too late to save the relationship with ducati and they parted ways. anyway, here's dovi and jorge having another go at it:

And while a rough patch for Dovizioso coupled with breakthrough back-to-back wins for Lorenzo in Mugello and Barcelona have now left the pair just three points apart in the standings, Dovizioso refused to back down from his claim when speaking to Spanish sports daily Marca ahead of the upcoming Brno race. “He’s won two races,” Dovizioso said. “Winning two races does not solve the problem of a year and a half. Lorenzo was not signed to win two races. Therefore I do not change my mind.” When the comments were put to Lorenzo, the three-time champion offered an ardent retort, stating that Dovizioso's rhetoric was proof of the claim he'd made back in April. “I'm a bit fed up with this situation, mainly because when I had trouble and he was winning, I was down there applauding,” Lorenzo told Spanish broadcaster Movistar. “What I said in Argentina - and the comments caused a big surprise - you can see that I was right. “He tried to undermine me, or downplay what I achieve or just attack me. As you can see, I wasn't lying. He's still doing it and now he says my method is not good, according to him.” Lorenzo intimated that Dovizioso was in no position to criticise him, as the Italian could do no better than runner-up to Marc Marquez in a 'perfect' 2017 season. He said: “I think my method has not worked too bad in my career. I've won three MotoGP titles and have 46 wins.” “In my second year in Ducati I'm usually faster than him, but maybe I should look at his method closer if in his best season, with everything going perfectly, he was second. Otherwise he's fourth or seventh usually. I'd tell him to leave me to go my way and to focus on his own and everything will be better, because when you have an angry Lorenzo it's usually worse for you.” 

fair to say that by this point the pretence at civility has mostly been dropped. I'm rather fond of the "lorenzo was not signed to win two races" line, though "when you have an angry lorenzo it's usually worse for you" is also really strong stuff. dovi tries to restore a little bit of peace:

Responding in turn to Lorenzo's tirade, Dovizioso sought to play down the conflict. “Jorge has his ideas and I think they are based on particular things. I don't think like him, but it's not a problem,” he told Movistar. “Everybody creates their own ideas based on what they see and how they live. “I don't think he has everything clear in his head about what's happened, but we continue the relationship that we started last year with respect, there's no particular problem. If he thinks this way, that's his problem."

so basically the classic 'idk what he's on about but it's not my problem' approach to attempting to defuse feuds

(9) twitter-gate

there's a few more on-track battles where it's nicely obvious how badly they want to beat each other, with jorge beating marc just ahead of dovi in austria and then dovi beating jorge in brno. jorge's season is increasingly derailed by injuries, which sets the stage for their next big spat:

The row was sparked by Dovizioso's comments to Sky Italia after qualifying at Sepang on Saturday, as he was asked what he thought of Lorenzo having to pull out of the Malaysian GP weekend with injury. "I don't know the details, I don't want to get into this, it's a bit of a strange situation," said Dovizioso."It happens often in Ducati or to certain riders, but I don't understand the details and I don't want to get into it and give my opinion." When it was put to him he was offering 'cryptic words', he added: "I leave things there, it's not my problem."

pretty vague, yeah. but anyway, I'm sure jorge had a proportionate response to this

Dovizioso's comments prompted a series of irate posts from Lorenzo on Twitter, with his first reaction being "Thank you very much @AndreaDovizioso! You are a real gentleman!". In his next post, he went on to call Dovizioso "an exemplary teammate", adding: "You applaud him under the podium when he wins and then... (That's right, he does not give his opinion, it's not his problem)." After that, Lorenzo labelled Dovizioso "envious" and described him as "a world champion... in 125cc."

the podium thing really bothered him, don't you think. their ducati in-fighting follows that general pattern where dovi says something... a little shady, a little ambiguous, where his intentions aren't entirely obvious... at which point jorge goes all in at fighting back and has a go at dovi - often not as much for what dovi is actually saying, but what jorge thinks dovi is implying. which is based on his understanding of dovi, the image of dovi he's built up in his head over the years, so that he is... predisposed to think ill of the intentions of the 'intelligent' dovi who always knows exactly what he's saying

again, dovi tried to downplay the argument, while simultaneously not exhibiting much patience for jorge's stance:

After the Malaysian GP, Dovizioso was asked about Lorenzo's responses to his comments, and the Italian accused his teammate of reading too much into headlines. He said: “Why should I talk to Lorenzo? I do not waste time on these things. He makes the usual mistake of giving too much importance to what is written, even without the context. "I have not pointed my finger at anyone and I have no problem with Jorge."

if I were ducati, I probably would've let the whole thing blow over given jorge was off soon anyway. but they decided the whole thing was so bad they had to organise a peace summit

Asked about the situation, Ducati sporting director Paolo Ciabatti admitted to Motorsport.com that the Bologna marque has already planned to sit its two riders on Tuesday in Milan to make it clear what its priorities are. Ciabatti said: “It is clear that the interests of Ducati come before personal problems between riders. On Tuesday we will be together in Milan, for the EICMA [motorcycle show] and we have in mind to spend half an hour to sit and talk to Jorge and Andrea. "We want to avoid similar things to what happened last weekend. "I understand that these kinds of situations can happen. Sometimes riders get nervous during a Grand Prix weekend and on a rainy day, with tricky conditions, sometimes they say things they shouldn’t have said."

god knows how that turned out

(10) wow, you guys aren't gonna let this go, huh

late 2020 and jorge's career is already over, while dovi's looks like it will be... paused, at the very least. which is always a good time to check in with riders on how they feel about their rivals - if they're still being nasty you know that shit was personal. from december:

some quality petty material here. "I can't understand his somewhat peculiar mind" vs "he was envious of me since 250cc, but I wanted to give our relationship a chance". note too jorge talking again about how generous he had been in the face of dovi's 2017 successes, and how he feels like this was not reciprocated at all. jorge's complaints don't stop there:

merry christmas!

not the only rider jorge has beefed with post-retirement, but compare and contrast with how he really hasn't been doing any of that with some of his biggest career rivals. valentino, marc, dani - sure, he still talks about the controversies he's had with them pretty regularly (to put it lightly), and he's hardly free of complaints... but mostly it's a distinctly nostalgic tone he's adopting with these guys. admittedly, it helps that none of those three have gone out of their way to say anything particularly inflammatory about jorge. still, the absolute lack of any sort of rapprochement with dovi of all people is pretty funny

bonus: that time when jorge skittled all of marc's rivals

you know how in catalunya 2019, jorge took out like? all of marc's major rivals in that era including himself in one go? with half a decade of hindsight, this was kind of hilarious, and it did also feature jorge having to eat a hell of a lot of humble pie and go to the three other blokes to apologise. anyway I have a lovingly assembled set of screenshots of all three of them emoting in their boxes after the incident, all suffering some form of an existential crisis. here is dovi contemplating the bleak realities of our brief lives on this planet:

truly one of the world's least enthusiastic waves

bonus 2: another one for old time's sake

already posted this elsewhere, but this from late 2023 made me laugh

"jorge came to ducati and thought he was going to beat everything, but in the end he didn't" uh huh

[msommers]

FROM APHRODITE AND THE LOVERS, TO OUR LITTLE DOVES 🕊️💌 to celebrate the release of the ethereal lovers club, we're offering a limited-edition cassette of the album exclusively for our top fans on spotify. a limited quality is available for this offer - until april 30th or while supplies last - so act quickly!

mc & band for @infamous-if [templates]  [psd]

[fuj0wuj0]

Break

Sometimes a questionable 'father' figure is all you have...

Clean version to appreciate young(er) Orso. They're 46 and 3 years old! :>

[ruvviks]

TWISTER VALLEY // MALLORY O'CONNER JADE AKOUA // BRANDON WEISS D'ANGELO "ANGEL" JORDAN // HANNAH YEOH RENEE SULLIVAN // TYRONE CONLEY

main characters of my original story twister valley, the first installment of the fractured anthology :] | [x]

[roserefrain]

shuffles in here shyly. the new guys….

picrew link

[leidensygdom]

I still can't get over how GOOD this song is. I've never been huge on the mainline Pokemon games but mystery dungeon ones have a special spot in my heart, and they have such stellar soundtracks

[fluentisonus]

part of the problem is that a lot of hugo's politics are really well thought out & considered & good but then some of them are like. entirely vibes-based to the point of feeling muddled & inconsistent & even straight up Bad sometimes. which is annoying

[fiepige]

Seabeast Hobie Moodboard

GIF Credits: @sushi-stims, @pridesquishy, @helium-stims,@gloomystims, @zoeinflowers, @fluffygif, @glasseyeartspy and @gaasublarb

[tanjir0se]

Good evening Genya Enjoyers and I am so sorry

Here’s … some bullshit from a WIP im working on as a possible sequel to Ghost of You working title ‘Rose forces Sanemi and Giyuu to go to therapy via severely retraumatizing both of them’

Tw: blood, bodily injury, strong language

***

“Genya! Fuck, Genya, can you hear me? You’re alright, you’re going to be alright—”

Panic rose with the pain and blood in his throat. Sanemi was tearing at the remnants of his tunic to get at his wound. Much longer and he’d be front and center to watch it heal, watch his flesh stitch itself back together again under guidance from the demonic blood that surged through him. He’d hate him even more.

“A-aniki—” Genya rasped, and mustered his strength to shove Sanemi back. He got him by the shoulder and pushed, but Sanemi stubbornly came right back. “L-leave me.”

Sanemi ignored him. “Let me see—” his words choked themselves off when he saw the wound. He could practically see right through Genya’s body and to the ground below. His throat heaved and pulsed with the effort to breathe, slit open like some kind of sacrifice. There was no surviving this. He’d seen enough similar injuries to know that. Stubborn as ever, Sanemi didn’t care.

“It’s alright.” He said again. Genya weakly pushed his hands away as Sanemi tore his tunic open and Sanemi ignored it. “It’s going to be fine, Genya. It’ll be just fine. Onii-chan is going to make it better, I promise.” His words forced themselves out of his throat through sobs. He tried to remember what Shinobu had taught him about first aid. Check the airway, make sure they’re breathing, stop the bleeding. A decent enough checklist for minor stab wounds. Not…he clenched his jaw to bite back bile rising in his throat. Not whatever this was.

Genya grabbed his wrist.

“P-please,” he managed. “Please, stop.” He could already feel the blood slowing. He’d have a hell of a time explaining it away later but there was at least a chance if he could get Sanemi away from him while it healed.

Trembling, Sanemi wrenched his hand out from Genya’s grasp. “Lay still, please, would you just lay still?! Let me see the wound! Onii-Chan is going to make it better, I promise!”

Genya pushed back, eyes filling with tears. “Onii-chan,” he repeated through sobs. The word felt rusty from so many years of disuse. “Please, go! I’ll be f-fine!” He could feel the farthest margins of the wound beginning to find one another. Surely Sanemi only hadn’t noticed because he was so focused on Genya’s face. Genya’s attempt at getting Sanemi off of him was quickly thwarted by Sanemi grabbing him tightly by the shoulders, staring down at him as tears fell from his eyes onto Genya’s face.

[fissions-chips]

party favour

(prompt 3: delirium. 'bad karma' au- tw for drugging, disorientation, noncon kissing + touch, and vomiting)

Everything was… too much. Far, far too much.

   With one hand pressed to his aching head, Jon staggered along, struggling not to crash into the darkened figures that suddenly loomed in his vision. Sick, sick sound pulsed through him, shuddering up from the floor, and the moment Jon’s hand hit the wall, he sank against it, pressing his face to it for a moment and praying it would block out some of the light, some of the noise, something.

   What the hell did that prick give me?

   Valentine’s parties were an unusual fare for a man of his standing- for all his riches and all his power, Valentine hated galas, or fundraisers, or any of the other blasé forms of social gathering that CEOs and businessfolk generally had to allow themselves. He had been a rock star first, a man satisfied only with stage lights and the kind of beat that shook your chest with it… and even if he had toned it down, somewhat, to better please all of his guests, the neon lights and low, echoing sound was enough to rock Jon’s frazzled senses. 

   Last time he had been down here, in Silica’s lowest gathering hall, he had… he couldn’t remember, actually. The time before that, he did, because he had gone into that party painfully, painfully sober, with that metal muzzle-mask cutting into him. He’d been kept ‘at heel’ then, humiliated- stuck seated at Valentine’s feet the entire night, held by collar and leash like some stupid animal. The pain had been distracting enough, the mesh leaving dark bruising behind when the other had finally saw fit to loosen it from his face, after everyone had gone home- after everyone had gotten their kicks and taunts in. 

   That had been bad enough- Jon’s reputation had been on the rocks for years now, but his unpredictability had meant he was left well enough alone, back when he was on top. The occasional attempt at assassination, the occasional brawl, expected for one of his position. Now, as a prisoner, he had no such power to hide behind, and Valentine knew it. Everyone knew it. The muzzle had been a mark of that, of his fall from top to bottom- but this? Drugged to high-fucking-hell and tossed out among Valentine’s criminal elite? 

   It was worse. 

   “You’re coming,” Valentine had told him, “-as a party favour.” He had been grinning as he said it, smoke drifting from between his teeth as he shook pills out into his palm. “A cheap piece of entertainment for everyone- don’t look so glum, Jonny. It doesn’t take much to make you look like a joke. Here, be a dear and take these without a fight, would you? I’d hate to get blood on this suit.”

   His enemies wanted to see him hurting and miserable, voice slurring and steps staggered and halting. They thought it was funny. 

   I’m not laughing.

   Staring out into the crowd, Jon tried to catch sight of a familiar fur-collared coat and those damn tinted lenses- Valentine was his tormentor and a sick prick to be stuck with, but he was predictable. A constant. Familiar. With his vision swimming and sight, sound and sense blurring together, it was still a safer bet than the people whom Jon couldn’t recognize, sneering and snickering. Some of these guests, more than likely, had very good reason to see him harmed. Jon had a feeling that Valentine didn’t want him dead yet, and was likely keeping a closer eye on his guests than they realized- but he didn’t want to push it. He couldn’t afford to push it, when all it took was one penknife between his ribs or two hands around his neck, the other a second too slow to intervene. 

   If I did get stabbed, Jon wondered, taking a moment to slump back against the wall and breathe- his chest felt tight. God, he was burning up. Would I go to the hospital? Or to a bodybag in the trash? Valentine may not have wanted his ‘pet’ dead yet… but Jon doubted he was worth the effort to save. The other might even be tempted to throw him out while he was still breathing, left in some cold ditch or alleyway to die. The thought chilled him to the bone, and he tried to force it from his mind- an effort that felt like pushing a boulder uphill. His mind was racing too quickly for him to catch.

   Maybe I’d get a bullet, he thought. He wondered when that had become a hopeful thought, instead of a miserable one- the realization struck him like a fist, and he stumbled, a sudden flood of nausea overwhelming him. One shaking hand pressed to his chest, he lurched away from the wall, swallowing thickly- 

   And tripped over a leg stretched outwards, sent toppling to the floor. 

   “-ATCH IT!”

   Jon groaned, one arm shielding his head as a vicious kick was driven into his lower back, the sound breaking off into a strangled whine. Struggling to lift himself from the floor, he sank back onto his knees, trying to shake the stars from his vision. Laughter rang in his ears, and Jon bit back a curse as he struggled to his feet.

   The one who tripped him flashed him a wicked grin, all bared teeth- panting, Jon’s eyes narrowed. He tried to place his face in his mind, but recognition was beyond him, and the longer he looked, the blurrier his vision became. Scrubbing furiously at his eyes with the back of one hand, he limped onwards. The stumble had brought with it one stroke of luck; he knew one of the voices, nearly lost among the endless, pulsing noise. Strong and musical and mocking- and he staggered towards it, dodging hands as he went. 

   Valentine had thrown himself halfway across a booth, a glass of liquor in one hand, cigarette perched in the other- he took a deep drag of it and breathed pale, sweet smoke, still snickering. The woman he was sitting with, face blurred, nudged him and pointed- Valentine tilted his head and smiled, all teeth. 

   Having fun? He mouthed- or he might have spoken. Jon couldn’t tell. Overwhelmed and sound-sick, he just bowed his head and waited, swaying on his feet. 

   Valentine leaned over to the woman across from him, said something with a sneer- then, a hand closed around his wrist and dragged him into the booth beside the other. Jon found himself crushed to the other man’s chest, Valentine’s arm snaking around his waist and pinning him there. “Too much?” He murmured, breath hot against Jon’s ear. “You don’t look too good.” 

   Fuck you, Jon wanted to snarl. Fuck you and all your stupid shit. 

   That’s what he wanted to say. Instead, he just nodded, relieved to be off of his feet for a moment. Valentine chuckled, taking a puff of smoke before turning his head and jetting it across Jon’s face. Coughing, Jon screwed his eyes shut, turning his face to hide it in the fur of the other man’s coat. There was a rumbling against his cheek as Valentine said something, shifted a little- Jon let out a long, quiet sigh. 

   He could hear the other man’s heartbeat, hidden from the world. It was strong, steady. This used to be comforting. Jon could remember that, at least. Part of him prayed it would be the same now, as much as he loathed the man he was curled up against, and as much as Valentine loathed him. How many bad trips had he spent, just like this? Curled up against the other, waiting until his head cleared and his hands stopped shaking. 

   His chest ached with something a lot like grief. 

   There was a sharp nudge against his shoulder- Jon groaned, turning away. Then, the grip around his body turned bruising, and he forced himself to lift his head, thoughts spinning. 

   “Here.” 

   The rim of a glass was pushed up to his lips, and Jon balked- Valentine’s voice sharpened, insistent. “Drink,” he purred. “You’ll feel better.” 

   A hand closed in his hair, Jon’s head tilted back as Valentine began to drain the liquor in his glass down Jon’s throat. It burned, and, sputtering, the smaller man tried to squirm away, his hands fumbling at the other- his teeth clicked against the glass and Jon began to choke, struggling to breath around the alcohol pouring into his mouth. 

   Thunk. The glass was dropped heavily onto the table, Jon left hacking and coughing against Valentine’s coat- the dark-haired man snickered, muttering something about “holding his liquor” as his hand tightened in Jon’s hair until it hurt. 

   Jon’s stomach roiled, and he closed his eyes, completely overwhelmed. The taste of alcohol was nauseating, burning- his whole body was burning. His skin felt too hot. Heart pounding in his chest, panicked and stuttering, the man suddenly found himself dragged upright as Valentine let out a loud, raucous shout. 

   “Oh, I know this one! C’mon, Jonny!” 

   Senses swimming, Jon suddenly felt that same, sickening pulsing course up his body as he was dragged to the center of the floor, Valentine’s hand locked around his own. Was it the music? Was it his heartbeat? Voices cheered and crowed as Jon staggered with the sudden motion, his knees nearly buckling- before he could fall to the ground, however, he was spun in another direction, Valentine’s voice taking on a mocking note as he hissed into his ear. 

   “Two left feet, Jon? Better keep up~”

   With that, Jon suddenly found himself the unwilling partner in a stumbling, fast-paced waltz- Valentine stepped and spun effortlessly, his smile wide and dazzling as he sang along to the sound. Jon caught bits and pieces, the notes to some some song he couldn’t name- dizzy and overwhelmed by the motion, he struggled to keep up with the other and not collapse entirely. 

   The audience laughed and called, hooting and jeering as their faces blurred around them- Valentine preened under the attention, eyes glittering with cruel amusement as his fingers sank into the small of Jon’s back, digging into almost-healed bruises until the smaller man hissed in pain. 

   It was all too much. Completely disoriented, Jon let his head fall against the other man’s shoulder, humiliated. The cheering and laughter was loud, louder than the music, louder than the blood rushing in his ears- Jon, to his horror, found his eyes beginning to sting, and he pressed his face into the other man’s neck, praying that Valentine took the hint and gave him a moment to breathe. 

   I can’t keep this up. Jon couldn’t get his thoughts in order- he couldn’t focus. Coherence was slipping from him like sand through his fingers, and there was a foul, bitter taste beginning to rise in the back of his throat. 

   “-y, Val- o’er here!”

   A sharp voice called across the room- Jon’s feet dragged along the ground as he was hurriedly pulled along, Valentine shouting something in answer, laughing. Legs shaking, Jon’s fingers dug into the other man’s coat, fumbling blindly as he was suddenly shoved away. 

Come back.

   Jon’s head knocked against the back of another booth as hands suddenly seized him- struggling, Jon was spun to find himself face to face with another man, a plume of smoke meeting him and leaving him doubled over and hacking. 

   “Remember me?” 

   Blinking furiously, Jon shoved at the sudden intruder, teeth snapping at the fingers that grabbed him by the jaw, forcing his head forward. Chest heaving, Jon tried to pinpoint the sleek, pale hair and the flat, dark eyes of the man in front of him in his memory. Trying to sort it out was like walking upstream, unable to get his feet beneath him- Jon scrambled for the only point of recognition he had. Those same grey eyes staring down at him as he sobbed against the floor. 

   Shit.

   “M…Marcus,” Jon slurred. Swallowing thickly, his fingers found the wrist of the hand clutching his jaw and pulled, wincing as the grip only tightened. “You… broke my fingers once.” 

   The man’s brow furrowed in a scowl. “Not a nice way to greet your ex,” he muttered, shaking Jon slightly. “But fair enough.” 

  The next thing Jon knew, he was dragged forward, his lips crashing into the other man’s own. For a moment, he froze, completely stunned- a tongue slipped between his teeth, sour with alcohol, a hand curling around his ribcage and pinning him in place against the other man’s lap.

   Reality crashed into Jon like an electric current- sudden, violent disgust flooded his body, face flushing dark with embarrassment and fury. Jon reeled backwards, hands blindly shoving at the other man, the grip locked around his jaw and the fingers creeping down his hip. Marcus laughed as Jon wrenched his head free, eyes wide with panic. Shit, shit, shit- 

   Marcus’s lip was bleeding. Jon tasted blood in his mouth, mingling with liquor and something bitter and creeping. He still felt too hot. Strong hands seized his wrists and slammed them against his sternum, Jon left wheezing for breath as the other man sneered. He couldn’t breathe. Head spinning and vision darkening at the edges, Jon could just barely make out Marcus’s snarled words as a sudden, plunging feeling dropped into his stomach, roiling.

   “Calm down, you stupid fuck, I’m sure your boyfriend is fi-“

   Jon vomited.

   Immediately, the other man’s voice rose to a shout, Jon flung away as he doubled over violently, retching and coughing. Jon’s knees hit the floor and he toppled, gasping for breath. Heaving himself halfway upright, he tried to wipe the bile from his mouth, his hands shaking- he tried to lurch to his feet, heart rattling. He failed. 

   There was a sudden crash somewhere to his right- Jon turned his head to see the table had been sent tumbling to the ground beside him. He blinked, confused as to how it had gotten there. 

   Movement flickered in the edge of his vision, and Jon turned just as a boot caught him in the nose, his head cracking against the floor and his senses suddenly going black. 

— — —

   When Jon came to, he was on his back. Quiet chatter flickered at the edge of his senses, his ears ringing too sharply to make out anything more than garbled noise. After a moment- it stopped completely- he couldn’t feel any pulsing against his back.

   Did the music stop? 

   Everything hurt. His mouth was dry, tacky with the sour taste of iron and bile- Jon’s eyelids flickered like camera shutters as he slowly brought his hand to his nose. His fingers came away dark with blood. Letting his head fall back against the tile, Jon struggled not to be swept under again, his vision refusing to clear. 

   Something was resting on his chest. His ribs ached.

   After a few more moments, the pressure increased- Jon coughed, struggling for air. Shaking his head slightly, he managed to make it up onto his arms, looking down to find a shoe planted firmly against his chest. Following it up, Jon blinked to find Valentine looking over him, silhouetted by neon, flickering lights. 

   “I…” His mouth opened as if to speak, but Jon found that he couldn’t get the words out. His head felt like it was splitting open- like if he turned just right, he’d slip from his skull completely, like yolk from an egg. 

   Valentine’s eyes were cold. As the ringing slowly faded from his ears, Jon began to make out furious screaming, slowly quieting- Marcus, being steered from the room by two of Silica’s guardsmen. The man was spitting with fury, guests turning to watch him go as he was pushed from the doorway and disappeared down the hall, until the room was silent once more. 

   The man said something, quiet enough that Jon couldn’t make it out- he stared up at the other, still half-stunned. Valentine’s expression was unreadable, his eyes hidden behind his darkened lenses. Someone handed him a bottle from one of the tables- wine. Some kind of wine. 

   Jon swallowed. 

   “Apologies, everyone-“ Valentine suddenly called- all eyes turned to him, the room going still. “It seems my friend here has been having an… unpleasant trip.” 

   Looking down, Valentine’s eyes narrowed as he opened the bottle, tossing the cap away. “Bad taste in your mouth, Jonny?” He murmured- for just a moment, his lip curled in a look of fury. Then, just like that, it was gone, replaced by that flat, shallow smile that Jon knew so well. 

   “Here- something to wash it down with.” 

   Without another word, Valentine proceeded to empty the bottle over Jon’s head- the smaller man flinched, sudden cold spilling down the back of his neck, the front of his shirt. Eyes wide, Jon stared down at the red slowly beginning to bloom down the pale fabric, wine trickling down his face to mix with the blood splattered across his lip. 

   Alcohol. Bile. Blood.

   Shaking the last few drops out from the bottle, Valentine stepped back, looking down at his wine-splattered shoe with a sneer. He let out a disgusted sound, turning on his heel to stalk away, through the crowd. 

   Jon blinked. His hands were shaking- he tried to form some coherent thought. Something to cling to. 

   The wine was cold. His clothes were wet. He reeked of vomit. 

   He still felt hot, he still felt sick, his skin still burned where other’s hands had rested on it- Jon’s chest began to heave. There were too many eyes on him. There were too many eyes on him.

   To his horror, he realized that his cheeks were damp- and it wasn’t with wine.

   Slowly, shaking so hard that his teeth were beginning to chatter, Jon tried to struggle upright. Around him, people moved, stepped away, returning to their conversations. The music began to pound once more- it was louder now. 

   He made it to his feet, legs trembling so badly Jon feared they would fail him completely. Some instinct warned him that if he went down, he wouldn’t make it back up again- something had broken up inside him. Something that wailed and sobbed like a wounded animal. Jon tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the way his thoughts were starting to spiral as his senses did, but he was helpless to stop it. 

   Staggering, half-blind, he was jostled by elbows and shoulders and shoving hands, people startling out of his way with shouts and insults. Someone kicked the back of his leg, and he stumbled. 

   Jon didn’t hit the ground. A strong hand curled around his arm, keeping him on his feet. Jon reached out, fingers tangling into fabric as he tried desperately to orient himself. The room was spinning. He couldn’t get enough air. 

   The grip around his arm was like iron. 

   Looking up, Jon found himself staring at a massive silhouette, the man looking down at him with a bewildered expression. Close-shaven hair and dark eyes, a furrowed brow- something about the face was familiar, in a way that tugged at the back of his mind. 

   I know you.

   It took Jon a moment to realize that he had spoken- some slurred approximation of the words, all jumbled together. Unintelligible. Jon tried to step back, but the hand didn’t let go. 

   He tried again. 

   Stop. Let go. Please, let go. 

   This time, his voice failed him completely. 

   Jon didn’t protest when he was dragged out of the room and down the hall, shoved into a closet. Jon didn’t fight when his hands were roughly bound by the man’s own tie, or when he was pulled out into the cold outside. His feet slipped against the ground- he was tossed over the man’s shoulder and carried, limp and quiet. 

   He was tired. He was so, so tired. All the frantic energy of before had bled out of him, spilling right onto the floor with the wine. His chest was tight and his ribs hurt and his heart was pounding so hard he could barely feel one beat from another. When Jon was shoved into the back of the car, left sprawled across the seats, he did nothing- he didn’t have any fight left to give.

   A small part of him wondered if this man was going to kill him. A small part of him hoped it would be a bullet. 

   And a small part of him listened to the steady rumble of the engine, and ached. Ached with longing to be anywhere else but tied up in the back of a car, waiting for death. Ached to be warm, and dry, instead of shivering and alcohol-soaked, the taste of bile and humiliation still sharp in his mouth.

   Vision darkening, Jon let his thoughts drift- thoughts of himself, somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Someone… taking him home. Himself, sick, and someone else taking him home. Someone who would carry him inside and help him shrug out of his clothes, who’d wash the wine from his hair with gentle fingers and a quiet voice. Someone who’d help him into bed and let him curl up beside them, running a hand through his hair and saying sweet things to him- like in the movies. 

   He could almost picture it. Almost.

   It was a nice dream. 

[callmewishful]

Woke up thinking about dilfs today. Here’s the results of the days work:

It’s no secret that Lambert’s political ideas were…ambitious. And that’s not a bad thing - I think he really wanted to better Faerghus and that his policies were truly for the good of his people.

However, it is also no secret that the western lords were…hesitant. And it’s also no secret that Rodrigue knew this and worried about it more than Lambert did.

So how much time do y’all think Rodrigue spent chasing after Lambert trying to rein him in?

And thus, how much time do you think Matthias spent holding down eastern Faerghus while Lambert charged towards a new future and Rodrigue tried to temper him? How much time did he spend helping in territories so Rodrigue could spend time in Fhirdiad trying to tell Lambert to ease into things instead of charging into them head first? (And this is absolutely no hate to Papa Roddy - I love him and he’s such a good guy and believe me when I say he was doing the Goddess’s work trying to keep Lambert from charging off a cliff; he had decisions to make for the good of Faerghus too and this was one of them)

Rodrigue and Matthias play those roles in Houses though; Rodrigue goes in search of Dimitri while Matthias holds down the fort. To me it doesn’t seem far off that the same thing was true earlier in life.

In addition to that, we know there were two plagues in Faerghus - one Matthias sent his wife up north for and one that killed Dimitri’s mother. We know they had the large Sreng campaign where Rodrigue saved Lambert, that Matthias had Leif for a while, that Duscur occurred, and that Faerghus was utterly destroyed afterwards….

We know Matthias is a margrave before anything else, for better or worse depending on perspective (mostly worse than better). But how many times do you think duty took Matthias away from the boys? How many times did he look up and yet another day was long gone? How many times did he sacrifice today in hopes for a better tomorrow?

I’ve never said Matthias is winning any awards for his parenting, but I often wonder how things like this played a part in it.