#either he's wrong or he's forfeited his right to live

[acid-ixx]

i would not survive wayne manor if i had to stare into dick's y/n blue orbs everyday

stop looking at me with those eyes! (again &. again mini drabble)

ft. post-kidnapped reader w/ yandere batfam shitpost

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

thank u for sending this oh my god, i need to write about this!!! i absolutely love your art style for the reader, they're so handsome i'm crying and laughing 😭😭😭 and it's true!!! i will also die if i look at the entire family's eyes as a filipino who has never once stared at a foreigner's eyes because it's just so bright huhu.

unfortunately for your case though, your refusal to look straight at them just translates to extra unwanted counseling sessions with the family in one of the large expanses of the living rooms housing the available members for a meeting. it's a whole gathering where you're the center of attention.

and it's not only dick involved, it's also all the other blue-eyed bastards and an additional glowering, pair of green ones which shines the brightest of them all— and if not for cass and duke's dark colored peepers, you might've truly passed away because it's no joke that their eyes glint under the light passing through locked windows, especially when the sun is at its highest peak and hits at just the right angles to glisten.

not only have you no physical escape, but their obsessed stares never leave your form too, devouring and locking you whole in your place and claustrophobic to the chains of their bright-orbed gaze.

"(name), dear, as much as you don't wish for me to address the issue; it's becoming an unhealthy habit that you refuse to maintain eye contact with the family. it doesn't help that your heart palpitates, you perspire more often, and you make excuses to run to a different room when you do. what's wrong?"

you don't even have to look up from staring at your lap (as if you want to, hah!) to know it's your father's voice directed at you. it's a unique tremor that reverberates across the room and commands attention from all corners; yet when he speaks to you, it's coated with an unhealthily sweet reverence that seems completely foreign to someone who has never once spoken to him until now.

"u-uhm..." stuttering, you bite your lip, drowning in your own self-preservation that had you ignoring dick's stealthy steps to your seated body on the couch, only for his fingers to carefully graze on your chin, snapping you out of your attention yet being too late as he lifts your head up, forcing to stare at his wide-blown eyes.

they're unnaturally bright today, shining more than the beaches in those private islands bruce owns, it's even more terrifying that he's staring at you.

"it's unfair too... baby bird, that it's me you avoid the most," he groans, it grates at your ears but it was better to focus on your other senses if you wish to control the ever-living fear of miley cyrus' blue eyes burned right into your retina, now associated with dick's emboldened ones. his palms find its way to either side of your head, cradling it side to side, the contact forced you to continue staring ahead of him. and no matter how much you resort to blanking out, the intensity of his baby blue eyes forfeits you to focus on anything else.

yet it's the gentle graze on your side that encourages you to speak your mind, you really hate how infantilizing this entire scene feels, and comical that they're - dick - is taking your excuses too seriously.

"ah... well—" how do you explain that you're shit at eye-contact because, first, and can't deal with their luminescent stares pinning you down to your spot, brighter than diamonds and emerald crystals, second?

"everyone's just too... you know. i- i really can't explain without it sounding... uhm..."

"too overwhelming? too what? akhi/akhti? it has been years since we last took you in, and you've been perfectly communicating with us until now. what has changed? has that rebel, todd, dare to make another deal with you again which involves refusing to properly communicate with us? with me? because if he did—"

damian's voice slithers with conviction, condemnation and possessive threats that strike fear into your heart with every venom-laced word. if not for his head nuzzling into the shadows of your neck, the dichotomy of dialogue and action, you would've been convinced he's out to kill you instead.

yet the same gremlin muttering insults is your little brother who takes the entire space beside you on the velvety couch, rendering you completely cornered by his expecting glare. except now, unlike the mental torment he subjected to you, his green-eye gaze glimmers with concealed adoration you've learned to discern, he's always been a heckler for your attention; the tan hands wrapped around your waist in a snuggle tightens, not too tight that it deprives you of oxygen, but demands your answers instead.

like father, like son. as the saying goes. always finding solutions with unwanted affection. couldn't even push them away without them interpreting your actions as rebellion which only results in more uncomfortable competitions on who gets to cuddle you for longer.

and wait, no, they didn't take you in, bullshit! they basically kidnapped you. it's only that you've grown accustomed to dealing with them individually and as a group, but because they've been more lenient with technology, providing you access to wifi with supervised search results, you stumbled across one of , which not-so faintly reminds you of them.

your past traumas of them replaced with jaded motivation to survive and tolerate the ever living plague in your life you call your family.

bruce did advise you to associate them with positive things instead as a first step to your adjusting phase, and miley cyrus' anthropoidal, not-quite human stare isn't negative in any way, yet it's also by no means negative, if not unsettling— which leads you to a common ground, a common affiliation which helps you cope with the fear that they might harm you and isolate you with loneliness even further; forgetting your presence once again.

learning to love them was hard, so relating them to anything comical was way easier on the still-heavy burden in your heart which yearns for freedom burned off through countless of escape attempts, the grief of your mother's death now decades worth, and just the shock of it all that they're still interested in you until now that hasn't worn off still, despite the years passing by quicker than blowing off a candle-light.

still, everyone retains their gaze on you, never once breaking contact with your form as if you're capable of escaping their grasp. you try to look down, but to no avail, dick was too invested in hogging your head all to himself and nuzzling it in his toned stomach, whilst damian refuses to separate from his ever tightening hold which renders you unable to full grasp your thoughts and speak.

god-damned hypocrites.

"holy shit..." it's tim who broke off the silence, muttering under his breath in disbelief whilst his hand fiddles with the modded tablet bruce had given you as a christmas gift. his lanky finfers continue scrolling eyes fixated on the scene before him, every expression illuminated by the faint glow of your tablet's screen. the most visible feature, gazing at him through whichever was left of your vision unobstructed by dick's body; was of course, his widening blue eyes, as it seems like he'd hit jackpot with his appalled reactions.

it seems like he found the exact same picture.

would it be a bad thing now if you'd run away from the room once they all collectively hone in on the image before them? or is it too risky of a task?

honestly, with just how routine your life must be right now, you'd prefer to run, to feel the air run through your hair, to bask in the sun washing your body in its warmth.

maybe to find unbidden joy in another game of cat and mouse, or it may be another one of your excuses to avoid those piercing eyes once more if even by just a mere fraction.

or maybe you could stay for now, because is it just you, or did you actually succeed in traumatizing them for once instead of you?

[shirefantasies]

hi, feeling nervous to ask so I’m sending this anon

If you haven’t already, could you do a hurt/comfort imagine? Like YN is hurt, either from a fight, ptsd, poor health etc, and imagine the types of comfort?

thank youu 💜

Sure! Since no character was mentioned I chose one and went a mental health route, hope that's ok! A comfort character fr though 🥺

Safe Right Here- Faramir x F!Reader (Drabble)

Warnings: angst (with comfort), past emotional abuse, mentions of self-destructive thoughts

One word. One word was all it took sometimes. A single phrase could push one off the precipice of memory. A chasm dark and inescapable, deep as life and death and everything in between. Such was it that when you fell, you wondered why you had ever been alive in the first place. Why one who failed to earn love was cruelly thrust into a world she was so unfit for. Why being called a maker of twisted, idiotic mistakes felt so akin to being dubbed the mistake itself.

So many things seemed to come naturally for all but you. Behaviors and unspoken rules. You needed them spoken, and when they were it was often done mockingly or in annoyance. Perhaps they were right- you simply were a burden.

"What is wrong?"

"N-nothing," you stammered, realizing how foolish you must have looked with tears pouring down your reddened face, "Nothing that matters."

"It matters," Faramir replied, kneeling at your side, "If it is bothering you. It matters to you. And it matters to me.”

Something about his emphasis, the way Faramir could speak so firmly in confidence and yet so softly, broke you. Was it foolish to hear love in his words? Perhaps, and yet there you were collapsing into his arms.

“Why? Why am I so wrong?” You sobbed.

“Wrong?” Faramir tilted his head, stubble shifting along the top of your head with a light scratch. “Wrong about what?”

“About nothing. I am just wrong,” you breathed, chest heaving with each attempt to speak, “I have nothing to show for myself. No family, no work to take pride in. Nothing complete to my name and no understanding of it all. Everything is so difficult for me. Why was I even born?”

Warmth fell upon you. New warmth beyond the tight hold of Faramir’s arms, the smells of woods and smoke clinging to the fabric and leather that embraced you. Moisture. Tears tumbled from Faramir’s blue eyes, ephemeral diamonds adorning the crown of your head. Diamonds of pure sorrow. A fitting crown indeed.

“My heart shatters to even hear you speak these words, but I confess I have spoken them too. Whispered them into the darkness in many a solitary moment,” Faramir admitted, arms winding even tighter, “But to hear them like this, coming from the lips of one so sweet? I may not be able to convince you, but they are lies. Poisonous lies.”

“They feel so real.”

“Right up until they destroy you,” Faramir agreed, his head resting over yours, “I almost threw my life away because of them but I know it would be true forfeit to see you do the same. My brother would not have wished this life for me. For you. Those who love you would feel the pain of that loss every day of their remaining lives.”

“Who-”

“I love you,” he cut you off, offering a knowing smile as compensation.

“And I you,” you replied softly, nuzzling closer until his words sunk fully in, giving you pause, “Wait, you almost…?”

“Yes. For Gondor. And perhaps a bit for myself, too.”

“Anything to give them what they want and see if the tang of blood takes the poison from their mouths. But you are kind, you are wise. You are enough.”

Faramir nodded, lightly scratching your head again. Your heart warmed, spreading through your body even against the cold stone floor on which you sat.

“And here I thought I was comforting you,” Faramir chuckled, a deep sound reverberating against your joined chests.

“See how well you’ve done?” You half-chuckled, half-sobbed, giving your first tentative smile. “It is easier when you are here. The rest fades.”

Kissing the top of your head lightly, Faramir circled a hand over your back, faint pressure bringing tingles down your spine. Sensation that drowned out the buzzing cries of your head.

“You are safe with me. Safe right here,” he affirmed.

Exhaling more tension, you tightened your grip, fingers flexing against his doublet.

“Together we can find the power to make the world of our dreams one day at a time,” Faramir told you, “One day after another I will remind you you have a safe home in my arms. Let me be your shield.”

“And let me be your armor,” you murmured, finally relaxing fully into his embrace.

“Armor,” Faramir echoed with a smile, “Forged perfectly for each other. I like that. Perfect for one at least, for you suit me just as you are.”

This time he tilted your chin, lifting your teary gaze to meet his and your head to nod before he pulled you in for a gentle kiss upon your lips.

“Nothing more,” he whispered, “Nothing less.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt @rivendell-poet | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 163 spoilers and thoughts that are making me procrastinate on like all of my work but its totally fine below the cut

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i am so serious i was completely tricked into thinking this would just be a light episode with some ominous foreshadowing but still some answers for how to defeat fate. i thought we'd be in silly haha territory now and that soon we'd reach the end and everything would be wonderful now and they can finally have what they want. I WAS PROVEN WRONG

YOU. YOU TRICKED ME FROM THE GETGO BY SETTING THE MOOD OF THE EP TO BE SILLY OFF THE BAT. YOUR STUPID CUTE HAIR BEING MESSY WHEN U WAKE UP AND THOSE SILLY ASS D*SNEY ANIMALS. YOU YOU YOU YOU RAPHAEL YOU FOOLED ME

it's super cute and funny that his singing and his general demeanor is so fairytale esque that animals and people just love him even though he tried to destroy what they were working on . he looks adorable with messy hair. i wanna see it more. cute and blond. but also. FUCK YOU

like we went from that to this and i was like "oh my god they're gonna have a bonding moment" and i was so so happy i just,, i really thought,,,,

like he looks so pretty here!! and then javier says something so sweet and so javier-brand of affectionate and they're being funny about it and it's so cute and they're all smiley afterward in the reflections of the water so its like "awww stupid fucking idiots being happy at each other without even really knowing it i love them so much" AND THEN.

STUPID FUCKING OMINOUS REFLECTION GOT ME ALL WORRIED. BUT THEN I THOUGHT OF RAPHIE AT THE START AND WENT "nahhh thats just. yknow. the normal foreshadowing at something bigger. they haven't even gotten answers yet. it's fine" oh lynn. oh girl you had no idea.

like they're so close to the truth cmon they wouldnt dump what they need to do to stop fate AND whats going on w javier at the same time right? ha. ha. ha.

ominous panels aside POOR LLOYD,,, OF ALL THE SECRETS HE COULD HAVE CHOSEN,,, he had no idea its not fair </3 we got blushy lloyd as a result i love this panel btw he's very very cute. super duper bug of him. i really like that the artist has been drawing the two of them at this angle a lot recently they look so stupid i like it a lot

ALSO JAVIER DO YOU. HAVE SOMETHING YOU WANT TO SAY. WHY DID HE ASK THAT I. JAVIER U CANT JUST ASK PEOPLE HOW DEE- WHAT THE FUCK

and then we got hit w javier being worried and i was like "man me too buddy, im worried too but im sure itll be oka-"

DEATH FLAG. WHY. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO THINK THAT LLOYD OH GOD. i read this and my worry that was briefly washed away IMMEDIATELY came back . tged is very good at giving me tonal whiplash. i dont think thats a bad thing but also its not good for my health either so. /lh

AND THEN WE GOT HIT WITH THE JEWEL OF TRUTH SECTION AND. AAAAHHH AAAAAAAAHHH the darkness that lloyd is in, he's all alone when he hears this god i . oh god i have so much to say okay

it's kind of hard to go shot by shot with this section because all my thoughts are overlapping with each other but ill try my best???

he's immediately pushed into communication between just him and the jewel and shrouded in a very very isolating darkness. there's so so so much empty space and all my yapping about how much lloyd has been isolating himself for the sake of finally protecting his loved ones kind of comes to a head here. and then we hear the truth...

lloyd is a BUG. the fact that he EXISTS is a problem that has been the catalyst of all the pain and work that he and javier have had to go through, so so early in the story. he's essentially being told that its HIS fault fate is threatening their lives. AND WOW THAT HURTS. how do you cope with being told that?? how do you manage that???

and on TOP of it all, in order to fix it, he has to choose. rid the world of this bug, or let the bug take over. THAT'S SO EVIL

the only way to protect his loved ones is to forfeit his protection over them, giving up his life. and yet the only way for him to continue being there to protect them is to lose the life of the one he absolutely loves most, javier. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT

the moment he hears this he falls to his knees. im so fucking ill IM SICK . THIS IS SICK AND TWISTED!!!!!!!!!!!

some more thoughts on the language and just. inherent despair of this section:

i think the choice of calling lloyd a bug is so so so heartwrenching. i don't know if it's an intentional thing by the writer/adapter or if it's just something they defaulted to since the world is considered a system, but either way it makes me so damn emotional

i'm a computer engineer, so i take some computer science classes too as part of my major, and one of those fun facts that you learn in those classes is that debugging/bugs became common terminology in compsci for a very silly reason. "bugs" as a word to describe error and defects had been present before, but it became conflated with programming due to a team of programmers actually finding a moth, a true to life Bug, interfering with their computer and thus messing with their program.

see, the JoT could have called lloyd anything. an error, a mistake, a problem, hell even a glitch would have worked. but they specifically said bug (and again whether or not thats intentional is up for debate but i will treat it like it is)

and the thing about bugs, the thing that haunts me now, is that without them the rest of the program (theoretically) works fine. if that moth hadnt entered the computer of those programmers, then their code would have been operating smoothly. the system would be chugging along well.

the knight of blood and iron would be functioning just fine.

yeah it'd be sad, yeah javier would have lost everyone, but it would have gone exactly as the program was written. the memory allocated for the class lloyd_frontera would be freed, and the story wouldn't have had to call on it, ever. but lloyd, the bug, the moth, stuck around. errors ensue.

and often, bugs are HUMAN error. it's a problem in a human design, not a natural glitch or mistake. the moth wouldn't have been able to enter that computer if it was built differently. bugs do not appear naturally. and they do not go away until you go back to where the bug appears and FIX IT. lloyd cannot fix the story, he can NEVER achieve the happy ending he's always wanted, because the program will always be bugged because of HIM.

suddenly too, all the little changes that have happened in the story thus far make so much sense. all of those events happening EARLIER than they should have completely tracks.

the choices lloyd made - to defeat neumann, defeat lacona, go to cremo, go to the capital - pushed javier's presence ahead, and i know that's like really really obvious, but coupled with this bug analogy i feel insane because

something that's very common in programming in general are function calls, where on the side you have the function written out all complete, and in your main code you can just say the name of the function. when it compiles, itll know what to refer to when it sees the name in your main code.

something else thats very common is conditionals! y'know, your classic "if (comparison here) then do (this thing here) else (do this thing here)", you might have seen this before (or not, im not sure how well versed tged tumblr is on programming which is why im explaining this)

and u think back to javier being there EARLY and oh. ooohh....

if (javier.location == magentano.event_location(banquet)) {

kyle_betrayal(alicia);

}

this function, this betrayal, was called early. THIS WAS CALLED EARLY because a certain character object, lloyd frontera, changed the state of javier's location way sooner than it should have happened. a bug. a bug. a bug. a bug made the code jump to this conditional. he's been a bug this whole time

and you think to when the glitches on javier first started appearing and oh. oooohhh. the object referred to as javier, disabled the "protagonist" variable on him and passed it onto lloyd. but that won't do, because all these functions for the ENTIRE STORY rely on javier's class object. how can it call on lloyd instead? lloyd should have been freed, aka the memory storing his little array of data, should have been REMOVED. CAUSE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE

theres more examples of this throughout the whole story that maybe ill list another day (as much as im yapping about it, its really not that hard/deep on figuring out where things were called early lol) but yeah yeah yeah. yeah this is so so evil and i cant believe i didnt put two and two together earlier. this analogy is SO EVIL WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS TO ME

apologies for the jargon btw. i have no idea if i explained this right or if anyone else really knows what im talking about but i've been losing it over this for the entire weekend ALKDFJLSDKF

WHATS WORSE IS THAT IVE BEEN CALLING LLOYD A BUG FOR LIKE. ACTUAL MONTHS. I WOULD REFER TO HIM AS A CREATURE AND AS A LITTLE ITTY BITTY BUG AND NOW I FEEL SO SO TERRIBLE BECAUSE HE REALLY WAS A BUG. I MADE A SHITPOST AND EVERYTHING (that ill prolly post later) THAT I HAD NO IDEA WOULD. AGE POORLY SOB SOB SOB

I AM SO SO SORRY LLOYD. I DIDN'T KNOW I DIDN'T KNOW I DIDN'T KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sniffle,,, sob,,, anyway,,, thats enough yapping about bugs and programming and lloyd being a bug,,, back to the anguish

the following section is just. god ow ow OW. the shaking linework, the shadows setting in at the top with the dramatic bottom lighting, and the blur on javier as he loses focus and starts truly, truly panicking makes me INSANE. artist you're making me CRAZY!!!

javier truly has no idea either but god dammit he's trying his best to help, but how can lloyd explain this to the man whos completely and utterly loyal to him to the point of sincere devotion? if lloyd tells him, whos to say that javier - the martyr that he is - won't just give up his life for him? god that's so... GOD. GOD GOD GOD WHY AGHHH

AND AGGHHH AGGGHHHH THE FLASHBACKS TO THE P PANELS OF SUHO WORKING SO SO HARD TO REACH THE LIGHT. GOD FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK

ITS DIMMER ITS HARDER TO REACH AND OH MY GOD THE PANEL OF LLOYD REACHING UP EVEN IN HIS PANIC TOWARDS HOPE. THE THOUGHT THAT "ITLL GET BETTER ONE DAY" COMFORTED HIM AND KEPT HIM ALIVE BUT NOW ITS BEING RIPPED FROM HIM I FEEL ILL. EVIL EVIL EVIL EVIL

this panel of that light going out . not much words on this i just feel sick to my stomach. why would u do that.

and finally at the end of the chapter we have this incredibly HAUNTING panel of lloyd panicking. the despair here is UNREAL. the lineart is shaken and messy and scribbly, and the focus on his face and his hand gives the panel a very claustrophobic and hard-to-breathe feel and it makes mE SICK!!! IT MAKES ME SICK!!! SICK AND TWISTED!!!! JEWEL OF TRUTH I HATE YOU!!!!!!!

anyway that's all my thoughts for right now . i really really hope they figure out a loophole or something . if they dont im actually gonna keel over and die /j not literally but yknow what i mean

SICK AND TWISTED!!! is my final word on this ep

thanks for joining me in hell ill see yall next week salute emoji

[cartoonsbyandie]

@akai-anna You have made a mistake

SPOILERS FOR MOVIE 9 below the cut (TW: Depression like oh my god severe depression, suicidal tendencies)

So it's no secret I'm a Kogoro Enjoyer tm, to the point that it's probably more shocking that Movie 9 isn't my #1 pick, and my favorite movie involves Kogoro asleep for 60% of the runtime. BUT it gets the #2 spot on the strength of one scene, which is my favorite moment in any DetCo movie and possibly even the series as a whole.

The moment (which is probably like 20 minutes I'm corralling all into one 'scene') is all of Kogoro's deduction scene and the ensuing fight, basically right up until the point where they have to save Rachel. (The Rachel stuff being where most of my frustrations with Movie 9 are.)

Here's the thing about DetCo: If you're watching Movie 9, you're probably into the series pretty deep, right? You're trained to disregard Kogoro unless you get extremely clear signs otherwise. He's comic relief, he's always wrong, his theories are always wrong. Period. Unless Conan is literally spoonfeeding him clues, or the show goes out of its way to show he's being serious this time, anything he thinks up on his own is completely wrong. The movierunners know this and play into it-- In an earlier scene, Kogoro goes up on stage like always and completely botches a deduction in front of a crowd. He has no evidence and gets called out on it instantly, at which point Conan (via Agasa) steps in and calls out the real culprit, who confesses and the Action Part of the movie begins. Business as usual.

And then the movie proceeds to completely and entirely subvert that.

It's my favorite scene because of just how well the show hid its cards, which your mileage may vary on. Kogoro isn't front and center on the movie poster, but he isn't shoved in the background either, and I did get some inklings beforehand that this movie might have Kogoro playing a more prominent role when he seemed to be acting strange. (I say this is my favorite single scene, but the whole movie does build up to it well with subtle clues.) But during that botched deduction scene, I disregarded all of it-- I've been burned before by this show, thinking they were building to Kogoro doing something cool, only for it to be played for laughs. They fake the audience out by playing exactly to expectations, so Kogoro coming out of NOWHERE to reveal that he was right all along and literally left the botched deduction to go search the culprit's room for evidence and sabotage her murder weapon HAD ME SCREAMING.

Literally all of Kogoro's skills come to fruition here in this scene. He knows enough about guns to sabotage a harpoon gun, knows (almost) exactly what happened for all the crimes at this point, knows how to fight and subdue a criminal (we'll get to that) and is devoted enough to justice and Being A Detective to see this case through to the very end. This should be a crowning moment of triumph, and what's the soundtrack doing?

It's solemn and sad, because where is Kogoro is giving this deduction? On a sinking ship, after he forfeited his spot on the lifeboat, believing that Conan and Ran have already made it out. He gives this deduction alone, with no one but himself and the culprit. He acted like he would arrest the culprit, but... where would he take her? What was his escape plan?

He didn't have one, did he?

The culprit mentions that it's pointless for him to explain her crime to her considering the circumstances, and Kogoro outright says he can't help himself. He knows it's pointless. He was prepared to give his life here, just to stop her plan.

And you know what? That's tragic. The fact that he's willing to die here, for this, leaving behind Ran and Conan, is heartbreaking to watch. The tone of this 'real' deduction scene is a complete 180 from the botched one, because Kogoro isn't playing anything up. He's just calmly explaining the crime because that's what detectives do. That's what detectives live for.

I'm not done, though. There's still the part where the culprit decides her final act is going to be to kick his ass for this stunt. I think it's pretty clear from everything Kogoro says that he's throwing this fight, if not on-purpose then on a subconscious level. Like, Kogoro doesn't really fight for himself, does he? He fights when someone who murdered his friend is attacking his other friends, he fights when Ran and Conan's safety is at risk. He fights for other people, so when it's only himself at stake (and he was already prepared to die, that's why he's here at all), what's the point?

Conan calling out to him snapped him into gear because suddenly it wasn't about him. Suddenly there was someone else to protect.

I haven't mentioned Conan but the fact that Conan is 'present' for this entire scene is great to me too. He got to hear this entire thing, help Kogoro out when he fumbled one detail in his deduction, and even seemed proud by the end. It's so sweet to see Conan proud of Kogoro for once. It's sweet to see just how good Kogoro can be when he really cares, and how good of a team these two could be.

I'm glad we got at least one movie dedicated to that idea.

[leillaaaa]

Umm stupid thingy i wrote for that one tbhk chapter where teru had dinner with his family (in the pov of teru like those tiktok slideshow thingies)

The day of her burial blurred together, washed away by the heavy rain which beat down upon her coffin. It was the first time I had seen my father waver. He's always been a stern man.

And yet, that stormy afternoon ... he broke. He whispered sweet nothings to her corpse, sighs of remorse and love tarnished by many bitter years of marriage. 'I am eternally grateful to have stumbled upon you in this life,' he had shakily entrusted to the soil that consumed her.

My relatives softly sobbed their goodbyes, and yet ... me, her son, her eldest son, did not shed a single tear.

There is something wrong with me.

I realized it, then.

Why was I not crying? I should have. I should have mourned for the mother who would never see the husk her son had become. Mourned like my father, who knelt beside her coffin, knees coated in mud.

My mother was dead, and I felt nothing.

That's not normal, is it? I'll never be normal.

I'll never come home from school to the aroma of warm food wafting from the kitchen, or look into the crowd at graduation and see my parents there, smiling proudly. To have a proper birthday party, for once ...

I don't think she loved me, exactly.

I looked like her, but I've always been much too similar to him. She must've seen it in my laugh, a golden staff gripped tightly in my hands, eyes sharp and void and nothing.

She didn't hate me, but ... it wasn't like she loved me, either.

I don't blame her. Kou and Tiara are much easier to love.

My mother is in front of me. There's a sweet, lively smile upon her face, the one I've always longed for. The one a mother is meant to give to her son after a long day at school. And still ... she isn't mine.

This isn't mine.

I sit at the table, swallowing the bile forcing its way up my throat. The chair's legs softly groan against the hardwood floor, barely audible over Kou's laugh.

He grins widely, the table alight with smiles and laughter and friendly conversation.

I don't belong here.

Her smile is as bright as the sun, as warm as a midsummer day. Tiara copies her table manners, poking at her food as politely as possible. Her golden hair is neater than usual, carefully woven into two pigtails. It suits her.

She deserves to have a mother who can braid her hair.

I'm sure it's her work. Kou has never done it like that - he's always in a hurry, though he never forfeits time to tend to Tiara. If only I could've been the one to lift that burden from his shoulders.

He seems lighter than ever. Flushed cheeks, ruffled hair, a grin plastered unto his face - this is how he should be.

They're so ... normal. They're normal. I'm normal. I'm ... normal.

Why am I relieved?

I stole this from him.

My smile still persists. It persists in this stolen life. The one stolen from the boy who deserved it.

My plate is warm. Usually, by the time I get home, it's ice cold. Kou always leaves a spot for me at the table anyways, but ... my mother has never looked upon me with such warmth. Have I - has this Teru - has he not committed my sin, the sin my mother had placed upon me? The sin of myself? The burden, the curse of the title, "Eldest Son?"

Even so, I'm still me. I can't escape that.

No matter what, I'll always be wrong. I'm not made for a life like this. One of carefree laughter and warm food and love.

A frown in a sea of smiles.

I'm the rotten apple of this perfect family dinner.

Because I don't belong here.

I don't belong here.

Right. This isn't my place. This isn't my plate. This isn't my Kou. This isn't my Mother.

This isn't my family.

I can't ruin it for these perfect Minamotos.

Perfect Minamotos.

I never thought I'd say that.

I'm so selfish.

Why do I long to stay? Stay where everything is right?

But this isn't right. This is abandoning my family. This is abandoning myself. This is-

"Are you okay?"

Are you okay?

How long has it been since I've heard those words?

Why am I crying? It's just a question. Why do I cry now, only when it's the wrong thing to do?

Ah. It seems like I've ruined it somehow, after all.

Because I am Teru Minamoto.

And this is the burden I must bear.

[captonite]

You're Not Him—You're Better.

Part Two: The Dream, the Defense, the Dad Who Never Was

It started with a fever.

The kind that crept up quietly, soft at first, until suddenly Sachi was too dizzy to stand. She slurred her words. Couldn’t keep water down. Sam sat with her on the bathroom floor while Dean called every small-town doctor within a 50-mile radius.

It was just the flu, they said.

But her body had been run ragged. Between nightmares, old bruises, and a broken heart healing slower than any bone, her immune system had little left to give.

She passed out around 2:13 AM, clinging to Dean’s jacket like a lifeline, still muttering, “Don’t go, please don’t go…”

Dean didn’t.

He stayed beside her all night, one hand wrapped around her wrist like if he let go, she’d disappear.

She dreamed.

And it was cruel.

---

She stood in the middle of an empty living room. Familiar. Shadowy.

And there he was.

John Winchester.

Broad-shouldered. Leather jacket. That same stoic glare that used to haunt Dean’s sleep.

Sachi stiffened.

He stepped forward, slow. Towering. Cold.

“So you’re the one they took in.”

She didn’t move.

He studied her like something under glass. “Not even blood. Just another stray with sad eyes. You’re not built for this life, kid.”

“I didn’t choose it,” she whispered.

“You didn’t earn it, either.”

Her throat tightened.

He stepped closer.

“You think they love you? Dean? Sam? You think they’d die for you like they would for each other?”

“They do,” she said, voice cracking.

“They protect you out of guilt. Obligation. Not love.”

She blinked rapidly. “That’s not true.”

“They’ll grow tired of you. Just like your mom did.”

She flinched.

He leaned down, expression sharp. “They’ll never see you as a Winchester. Because you’re not. You never will be.”

“Back the hell off.”

The voice cut through like thunder.

John froze. So did she.

And there — storm-eyed, panting like he ran through the veil of sleep itself — stood Dean.

Except this Dean wasn’t tired or gentle.

This was protective Dean.

Terrifying Dean.

Big brother Dean.

He moved between them with fire in his chest.

“You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her,” Dean growled. “You forfeited the right to speak the second you let her believe she was unwanted.”

“This doesn’t concern you—”

“She’s my baby, and if you ever show your face in her head again, I swear to God, I’ll burn whatever dimension you’re rotting in.”

John straightened, almost amused. “You think you’re a better man than me?”

Dean's jaw clenched.

“No,” he said. “I know I am.”

Sachi trembled behind him. Dean reached back and curled an arm around her protectively.

“She’s mine,” he said again. Quieter now. Like a vow. “She’s my baby. My chubs. And you will never speak her name again.”

The living room shook. The walls groaned.

And then the dream cracked wide open, dissolving like ash.

---

Sachi woke with a gasp.

Sweating. Crying.

Dean was already there, brushing damp hair from her face, whispering, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I got you.”

“You were there,” she whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“In my dream. He—he said things. About me. About you. I—”

Dean didn’t let her finish.

He pulled her into his arms and held her like she was something precious.

“He’s wrong,” Dean murmured. “Every damn word.”

Sam appeared at the doorway, worry on his face, but softened when he saw her nestled into Dean’s chest, tears finally drying.

“You’re ours,” Dean whispered. “You’ve got nothing to prove. Not to me. Not to Sam. And definitely not to him.”

“You don’t have to be Dad,” she mumbled.

He smiled, watery. “Good. ‘Cause I make a hell of a big brother.”

Sam grinned softly behind him. “The best.”

Dean shifted, tucking the blanket around her, careful with every corner.

“You’re stuck with us, chubs,” he said gently. “Forever.”

Sachi blinked slowly. “Good.”

And for the first time in weeks…

She drifted back to sleep without fear.

[yingren]

sometimes, dan feng is right. actually, scratch that — dan feng is almost always right. whether it’s rattling off some obscure fact, answering a question posed by one of their companions, or offering something poetically sentimental like this, he rarely finds himself in the wrong. it’s a quality that both impresses and occasionally irritates yingxing. because here’s the thing about yingxing: he’s fully entitled to find dan feng annoying. objectively speaking, dan feng is a stubborn and headstrong figure who knows exactly how to get under yingxing’s skin. no, more than that — he practically lives there, settling into a quiet truce most of the time, careful not to overstep boundaries or push too hard. but every so often, with the restless curiosity of someone far younger than his years, dan feng seeks out new ways to irritate yingxing in that uniquely dan feng way. not that the craftsman truly minds, of course. truth be told, yingxing finds himself unbothered by the high elder’s constant presence. after all, he enjoys testing limits too.

“ your actions have told me that you missed me, i suppose. ” not really, but yingxing still throws it out there, knowing dan feng can refute it. he doesn’t expect anything different, though. despite all the teasing dan feng endures, he always responds with an honesty that can’t be shaken. yingxing doesn’t forget the drink in his hand, taking slow sips of the baijiu now and then, letting the taste linger on his tongue before swallowing, over and over again. he couldn’t count how many times they’ve done this, not even with one hand. high elder and artisan, sharing drinks and quiet moments beneath the moonlight. it’s their ritual, their unspoken bond.

running away is a dream, perhaps not yingxing’s dream, but one he entertains now and then. the thought of himself in another world, free of responsibilities, lingers. it seems unlikely, though. if he were to leave, he’d lose the hardships he feels bound to, the ones he’s struggled to escape. he’d also forfeit the hard work he’s invested into building his own name. dan feng must understand that. just as yingxing knows there's no chance for either of them to ever truly run away. they are both bound to this life, to their duties, whether they like it or not. but one can still dream. dream of freeing dan feng from the weight of his role as high elder, dream of being somewhere else, where the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, and where two moons witness their bond grow. to call it 'companionship' feels too gentle, too cautious a word. yingxing decides he doesn’t like it. wrapped around his wrist is a bracelet, identical to the one dan feng wears. that’s not just companionship — it’s something else, something deeper.

“ oh, is that so ? your feedback is appreciated. i do work tirelessly to find new ways to tempt you. ” his arm extends just enough to brush against dan feng’s side, and they sit there for another moment, suspended in time that belongs solely to them. it’s not borrowed, stolen, or taken from anyone else — it’s theirs to cherish, devoted entirely to this brief connection. yingxing finishes his drink quickly, downing the last of it in one swift gulp. the taste mirrors how dan feng feels. warm, freeing, and just a bit too comforting. as he reaches to bridge the distance between their hands, yingxing finds his fingers interlaced with dan feng’s, holding on as if he’s unwilling to let go. maybe he won’t. maybe they could remain like this a while longer, if only he held on a little tighter. “ then, if you do not mind it too much, may i tempt you in a different way ? ” raising dan feng’s hand to his lips, still tasting the remnants of liquor on his tongue, yingxing presses a gentle kiss to the gloved palm of the vidyadhara’s hand.

@altarfates / cont.

[snowjanuscentral]

Firelight, Forfeit

Summary:

Sejanus lives, whisked back to the Capitol.

He burns the photo Coriolanus had given his parents as a gift.

read on ao3 here

Prompt:

It is at his belated birthday dinner when Sejanus is presented with a photograph of he and Coriolanus, each fresh-faced in Academy rouge, before all the nastiness of the Games. His father explains that the photograph had been a gift from Coriolanus himself, salvaged from Sejanus’ own possessions kept at the Peacekeeper barracks. 

A kindness, Strabo said as he handed the picture over, considering he doesn’t know you’re alive and well.

Officially, Sejanus is on ‘extended medical leave’, the official story being a nasty case of summer flu. Coriolanus (and the rest of the District Twelve Peacekeepers) appear to know better, having watched him be hauled off, beaten and bloody, most likely to some kind of private execution in the Capitol. 

As though the incorrigible Strabo Plinth wouldn’t use his bottomless pit of cash to bail his only son out of trouble yet again. 

And in reality? He is stuck at home until Gaul and his father can agree with what exactly to do with him.

In hindsight, Coriolanus was right: he shouldn’t have gone to the Districts, he shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with the rebels. He should have stayed, and used his father’s money for good. Whether he likes it or not, Sejanus isn’t District anymore - the business with the shootings had taught him that harsh lesson. 

Not that Sejanus would give Coriolanus the satisfaction, after everything.

Sejanus has the photograph clutched tightly in one hand, the laminate edges digging into his palm. It is late in the evening now, his mother and father retired to their room, and Sejanus is in the library, as he has been for the past hour. It is dark, and he is sitting at the mouth of the  fireplace, watching Coriolanus’ face morph in the flickering firelight. 

If he holds the picture close enough to the fire, Sejanus can see the shape of the flames through the laminate, like he and Coryo are  statues reanimating, stuck in the confines of a simpler time and place.

Eventually Sejanus will be let out, and rejoin Capitol society. He’ll go to the University, most likely following in his father’s footsteps with the munitions business. Coriolanus will find out he’s alive, and perhaps they will catch glimpses of each other on campus, and it will almost be like it could have been before everything had gone so desperately wrong. 

It could have been so, so different; they could have been classmates once again, if it wasn’t for the Games. They could have studied together, enjoyed coffee at the campus cafe, walked each other home after all-nighters and exams.

(They could have courted, properly. Secured Coryo’s finances and the Plinth social reputation. In another world they’re on a first date, holding hands on a crisp autumn afternoon.)

Sejanus is almost bent over the fireplace, and the flames jump up, licking into the photograph. The image stretches as the plastic melts, and Sejanus drops it into the flames, fingers singed. 

He watches as his own face distorts and blackens in the heat, eyes twisting into impossible shapes, Coriolanus remaining intact for a single moment before he too disintegrates. Until all that is left is a twisted snake of blackened laminate draped across the coals.  

The two boys in that photo are dead, really. Sejanus will never be so soft and trusting again, can never let himself chase a Coriolanus who is no longer witty and charming but self-serving and cruel. 

(Maybe Coriolanus was always self-serving and cruel, and used Sejanus for money and status. And kept using Sejanus for intoxicating pleasure in the musky heat of August.) 

There is soot on Sejanus’ hands, and he wipes it off on his slacks, stiff legs locking into place as he stands up. 

Coriolanus will find out he is alive, and there will be no true consequences for either of them. They are both hardened and hollowed out, and will dance circles around each other until one spins out of control. 

The flames in the fireplace are tempered, burning low. Sejanus watches as the laminate slowly curls in on itself, and wonders if Coriolanus ever squirms under the guilt of what he believes he has done.

 Maybe that is why he gave away the photograph.

(Or maybe there is no guilt, only selfishness, and the opportunity to do a favour for the Plinths - to create a debt.)

It is late, and dark, and Sejanus stares into the embers until his eyes water. He will not cry over Coriolanus Snow. 

He will not. 

(His tears hiss as they meet the hot coals.)

[banefultyrant]

I was going to wait on this and another post until I had his carrd completely finished, but here we go.

Enver Gortash & Morality // @banefultyrant

So this has been prematurely kicked off by this post stating, "Tragic backstory explains behavior but does not excuse it."

This is so true, and especially in regards to this disaster dumpster fire of a human being. Because he isn't just a dumpster fire. He's this level of dumpster fire:

Now, to my point.

Enver Gortash—as he will absolutely refuse to acknowledge his original name because of everything tied up in it—has been through a lot. Though I can't remember if it was ever openly stated, I would absolutely agree with general fandom consensus that his mother abused him. I saw a post floating around the other day about the difference between how his parents are treated in game, and I couldn't agree more. [ If I can track the post down again, I'll link it here as well. ]

He was, seemingly at a young age, then sold to a warlock because his parents couldn't settle their debts the right way. Whether his mother is telling the truth or not, she claims she either sold him or they forfeit all of their lives over the shop debt. [ Also, who in the hell were they in debt to that their lives were at risk because of their debt??? Was it actually debt from the shop, or from drinking or gambling? Or did they take a loan from Dangerous People to keep their shop running??? ]

From there, he then ended up at the House of Hope, where he was canonically tormented and tortured by Nubaldin simply because he was 'mischievous' and because Nubaldin found it entertaining.

"I used to work in the prison, ensuring no desirable people left the House of Hope. Now, I guard the portals to ensure that no undesirable people enter." [ Why don't you work at the prison anymore? ] "I made a mistake. Raphael doesn't tolerate mistakes. We had one houseguest by the name of Gortash, a mischievous little blot of a boy, and he slipped through my fingers." [ Gortash was here? Lord Enver Gortash? ] "Lord? Is that what he calls himself these days? The sniveling little shit. He was the son of a cobbler or somesuch meagre tradesman, sold to Raphael by his loving parents to pay off their petty debt. Lord indeed. I used to bruise my knuckles on his whimpering little face. I'd like to have snapped his neck."

So he escapes that literal hell because he just can't take it anymore. He winds up on his own, with nothing but his cleverness and his drive to never be at anyone's mercy ever again.

[ A lot more below the cut. ]

Now, his mother claims he was evil from the start, but I've not once seen any dialogue options that support that. She says he was always making a racket. She says he was too clever. But she never offers anything even remotely adjacent to explain her claim that he was evil out the gate.

[ Perhaps because she was and she simply didn't care for a clever little boy asking questions, pointing out when she was being unreasonable, or saying that he didn't understand why he was being punished when he did something that he's done a thousand times before and she never said anything then, et cetera. Abusers can never have the problem. The other person has to be the problem. The villain. The complication. The scapegoat. There's something wrong with the other person and that's why they are perfectly justified in doing what they do. ]

Regardless, you have a young boy sold to a warlock and placed in the House of Hope, and was apparently a 'desirable person' based on the fact that Nubaldin was in charge of making sure none of those left and when Gortash escaped, Raphael considered it a failure.

[ Considering how foresighted Raphael is in terms of potential, it makes perfect sense to me that he might even have witnessed how clever the boy was once, perhaps he had even stopped by to make clear to his parents that their debt was owed and he would see it paid, one way or the other. Perhaps he saw how Enver was treated and found it contemptuous that such people should be able to waste so clever a mind. Or, perhaps the warlock had done so on his behalf and relayed such information to Raphael who then had them to pass along that he would accept the boy as payment.

Now, though I won't project my thoughts onto anyone else's Raphael, as for my own over at @thishouseofhope , while people claim that 'Raphael loves only himself' coughcoughHaarlepcoughcough, that isn't true. Or, at least, not entirely.

I think Raphael has a hard time connecting with others enough to care anything about them in actuality, yes. But I think where that starts to falter is in cases where he sees a bit of himself or his own situation reflected back at him. Would he admit that? No. But he sees it all the same, recognizes the similarities even if only subconsciously. And though I haven't gone into much detail with Raphael's early years over there yet, suffice it to say a brilliant, clever mind stifled by and suffering under the shortsightedness, derision, and abuse of a parental figure? It would definitely strike a nerve, whether he intended or not, whether he acknowledged it or not. HINT: He most certainly would not. ]

Within my own canon, this meant Raphael saw Enver and saw something of himself reflected in the boy and his situation, and, as such, there was a certain amount of fondness for him, particularly with the potential he could see for the boy's future with so sharp a mind. In a verse with my friend on discord who writes Enver, that included Raphael taking him on as a protege. Had it not been for Nubaldin's pointless cruelty, I have little doubt that Enver might have come to enjoy his time at the House of Hope, as Raphael would always provided new things for him to learn both of practical and educational import, and Enver, who was clever to start, would have jumped at the chance to learn anything and everything he could, particularly if Raphael caught onto his interest in mechanics. No doubt Nubaldin said that the boy simply escaped, otherwise, had Raphael realized the cause, I don't know that Nubaldin would have survived to tell the tale. ]

But, as always, because I can't help myself, I digress.

We have a young boy with promise and potential who ran because he was being abused again and was terrified of remaining where he was, who refused to be at the mercy of anyone else ever again and set his mind on making certain that it never would happen again.

At some point, he throws in his lot with Bane. He starts to accumulate wealth and power and influence through whatever means. His mind, his body, his blood and sweat [ but never tears, because he won't cry anymore, won't show that weakness ]. He will do whatever it takes to ensure that no one can ever harm him again, that no one has the power to do so. And how does one do that?

You make certain that you are the most powerful. Powerful enough that no one can touch you.

Free will, is the problem. That becomes evident to him shortly into his worship of Bane. No matter how many laws and rules and punishments exist, there will always be people who still choose to suffer them—because they could, because it was worth it, because they didn't care, because they didn't think they would be caught, et cetera. So long as free will might exist, then you would continue to have thieves and drunks and debtors and murderers and abusers.

So eventually, this plot of the Absolute is developed and! my! doesn't it solve it all! Not only does it set him in a place of power where nobody could touch him, it also solves all of those other pesky problems because there will be no more free will, only the will of the Absolute relayed to all of its subservients.

"A new age is upon us. Gods have mercy upon those who would stand in our way… I want to lead this city to glory — not scorch its earth."

When the player character approaches, Tav or Dark Urge, he talks about wanting to lead the city into an age of prosperity and safety, etc. And he isn't lying. He means every word.

Because, in his mind, this is the only way to reach that outcome. Does he want power? Yes, because, much as you hear the themes with Astarion's companion quest line: Power means safety. Power means no one can hurt you. Power means that you dictate the lives of others, rather than having your life dictated to you. To paraphrase, when the player character tells Astarion that those with power have a duty to protect those without, Astarion roughly responds, "People with power had 200 years to save me from Cazador, and no one ever did. No, it was the Mindflayers who freed me."

In all honesty, it's much the same for Gortash, except he was at an even greater disadvantage than Astarion in one respect—unless more information comes out about Astarion's past later—and that is this:

Enver Gortash has never known anything else. There is nothing before his abuse, before his servitude and continued abuse, before he set out into the world at a young age and suffered its cruelty on his own.

It is all that he has ever known.

But!

He sells Karlach to Zariel! Yes, just as he was sold, and yet, even still, this is done not out of malice or cruelty, but with the belief that he thought he was doing what was best for her. If she remained on the streets, she would either be jailed or dead in a few years, and she deserved better than that. Being sold to a devil was what set him on his 'right' path, made him who he is, so maybe that's what Karlach needed also? And, knowing her as he did, he truly had no doubt that she could be running the place in no time. She would have power enough to protect herself, just as he intended to claim for himself at the Gate, and it would mean they could be allies. He set a piece in the right place and if she would just do as she ought to have done, she could be doing so much better for herself — just as he has.

He was going to kill the refugee children! In his mind, most of them miserable little orphans with no prospects beyond pain and suffering. It would be a mercy to them, truly, and—as my friend, Shadow, mentioned in one of our discussions about Gortash's thoughts on this—their deaths would at least mean something in the grand scheme, rather than their bodies simply being stepped over and promptly forgotten. Their deaths would sow discord between the refugees and the citizens of the Gate, further unite those within against those without and solidify his position as a protector. With any luck, the refugees would attack in retaliation and affirm the citizens fears that they were followers of the Absolute threat after all. And regardless of how it went, it would create further chaos that he would be able to bring to Order.

This is NOT to say that his behavior should be excused.

However, much in the same way and for the same reason that I would defend Minthara and Nere both, I can fully understand his thought process, why he does what he does, though I certainly don't agree with it. Just as with them, I would question the level of accountability one can be held to when one knows no different. I would very much, in some ways, say that Gortash is nearer to having had a Lolth-sworn drow upbringing than a typical human one. His entire understanding of the world is through abuse, violence, betrayal, and transactional interactions. His solution—the Absolute religious hoax—is one that makes perfect sense within those bounds. It's logical, nice and neat. A brilliant plan, cutting the problems that plague the city—and, indeed, the world—off right at the source.

There won't be anymore murders in the streets. There won't be anymore pickpockets or petty crime. There won't be anymore gambling dens. There won't be anymore children abused or sold to settle debts. There won't be anymore crime, period.

The populace can put all of its effort and energy into making the city more unified and prosperous than it ever has been —

Because that is the only choice they have left to them.

[ Doesn't that sound familiar? "She is, of course, free to choose the only option she has left." ]

In his mind, how brilliant and elegant an answer to those pesky problems that no amount of laws or punishments have ever stopped! A villain? No! He's the savior who will deliver this city to a new age! A great age!

[ And doesn't that sound familiar, too? ]

In the words of Jason Isaacs himself, "It was a thrill to join the Baldur's Gate universe, but I fear that the magnificent Lord Enver Gortash is being mischaracterized as a villain. In a brutal world of betrayals and butchery, he's learned to lie better and backstab first. The joy in voicing him — apart from the obvious pleasure in getting to look so glorious — was that the creative team and I got to play loose enough to find ways that he could enjoy the ride and make the players hate him more!"

Enver Gortash has done terrible and unforgivable things, much as with most of the cast in the game, companions or otherwise…. but the whys. The whys are important, and the whys are what not only further show the depth of the character… but also provide interesting possibilities for futures wherein he escapes his fate in the game.

[evil-quartett]

Rain

Life. Was that truly what he wanted? Didn't he forfeit his right to on the stake? Yet the traiterous Count refused to let him, defied fate to save him. Why? There were so many vetter men, men who didn't have blood on their hands like he did. No, he didn't deserve life. But he didn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death, either. He had to satisfy fate, atone for the Count's crime. And this time, there would be no rain to lessen his pain.

He'd been ready. Ready from the moment of his unjust ressurection. But then she entered. Who was Mitsuki? She was an angel disguised as a human, reigniting the spark he'd lost long ago. The light she shone gave him the Illusion he had been wrong. Even the Count opened up to him, telling him of a desperate voice inside him begging to live. Jean started to hear this voice himself. Everything was fine. It had started to rain.

But every rain will stop eventually. His stopped the moment his comrade returned. The soldier's mind lost to madness, he erased the light that had been shone to Jean. He erased it with the blood of his love, Mitsuki. And now Jean stood on the stake again. That moment, surrounded by the heat of the flames engulfing him, he truly learned His fate could not be defied.

[akshigo]

Myth

There are many stories that are passed between generations. Told with a desire to share lessons, to pass history unto those that will eventually replace us. All stories have a beginning but they do not start with the beginning. The one I share now does, it is the origin of our world, our existence. Huddle close now. Embrace the warmth that signifies life and listen closely. We begin with Urd and Ao. Both are said to have lived in a different time, a different world. Urd was obsessed with freeing life as he viewed it. He believed that to live was to suffer. He saw the struggles of the day and was saddened at the hurt that spilled forth from simple beings trying to live simple lives. He was put at odds with all other living creatures. Ao was one such being. A simple life was all Ao had known. Called to do battle with oblivion Ao answered. It would be wonderful to say Urd naturally lost- but the battle carried on for years. Millenia. As time created more bloodshed, the bonds between the living broke down. They fought amongst themselves and Urd. The living would ultimately destroy themselves, doing Urd's work for him. Only one remained, Ao. Unable to spread any seeds or the like as the last remaining life, Ao instead broke pieces of themselves off. Cutting and severing and allowing life to grow from their very flesh and soul. Ao alone faced Urd and continues to do so. For their battle has not yet ended. Urd races across existence determined to end conflict itself. And Ao runs forever and ever, knowing that should they be caught, all will perish.  You have listened, you know where we all come from. Where you come from. What had to be forfeited to give everything, everything else. Or maybe that's not how you see it, do you shake your head in dismay at Ao's active fighting of the inevitable? Is it even right to continue and prolong such strife? Do you believe that all life should be held sacred even while those that live, prey and feed upon one another? Or should all life be ended even if that is not its wish? We kill one another, whether through anger and murder, or by hunger and hunters. But this either or, right or wrong, good and bad- it is all a trick. It deceives. This view of two sides, of only two sides, comes from those that have aligned themselves with either Urd or Ao. Do not fall into the same trappings that too many have fallen into. I choose both, I acknowledge both Ao and Urd, neither is wrong in their desire. I prefer life, it is why I still live but I understand and see Urd, his tears, his wish to help even if it means to hurt. Ao will always suffer, whether by the hands of their children or by Urd. Yet Ao runs, afraid and pained, Ao still runs. Death would end such concerns, however life is not so wise. Urd comes for all of us, each and everyone one of us. Even so we live, we continue to live. Until we cannot. I myself hope that Ao never stops running, even if they stop fostering new life so long as they run, I am at peace. This game of cat and mouse is cruel for all, nevertheless it needs its players.

[cactusbaseball]

I think what genuinely confuses me is why people view the choice to vote democrat as choosing American lives over Palestinian lives. Realistically we are going to end up with a democrat or a republican for president. Both parties have shown unwavering support for Israel and an unwillingness to give actual substantial aid to Palestine, which is obviously truly fucking evil. However, I don’t see how not voting (or voting republican, if that’s something people are actually considering) will actually help end the genocide? “Teaching the democrats a lesson” by letting them lose this election isn’t going to change their ways, they’ve lost elections before and unless I’m mistaken it hasn’t made a significant difference in the past. And hearing the blatantly racist way Trump has spoken about Palestinians (like saying Israel should “finish the job”, what the fuck) shows me that he will not be any less genocidal than Biden was, if anything he may find a way to be worse. So if both of the parties that have any realistic chance of being in power will be equally awful on the international front, why is it wrong to choose the party that is less likely to strip rights away from women, immigrants, queer people, and countless marginalized Americans? Why is it wrong to choose the party that is less likely to kill trans children? It would be one thing if losing these rights would somehow end the genocide. If that was the case, I would see why people consider it an us or them situation and I would seriously consider forfeiting my rights to save lives. But the way I see it, there has been no indication that the republican party has any intention of ending the genocide, so I don’t understand how letting them win and letting them continue supporting Israel while also killing more Americans is a morally superior choice to voting blue. I understand why people are disgusted with the Democratic Party right now, I am too. Biden has the blood of thousands on his hands. And I definitely understand why people can’t bring themselves to vote for either party, even if I disagree with that decision. But i have not seen any logical explanation as to how forfeiting my human rights as a queer woman by not voting will do anything to help Palestinians.

[geminiagentgreen]

Regarding your understanding of scripture:

You have no understanding. Not even any context.

You are supposing 21st ethics upon the 1st century Israel; you can think it's wrong all you want that her being sixteen is immoral, doesn't change either facts that it happened and that Mary was joyfully willing.

Also, really? Groomers? All you've had for "fact" this whole time are your horribly misinformed biases and insults. You've already demonstrated your ignorance and arrogance, can you try to not add "childishly prejudiced" to the list?

Anyway, you are using the verses where Satan is tempting Jesus by quoting scripture at him. Now you have up there a "Moses 1:15", but I'm assuming that's a typo as there is no book of Moses. I'll instead use Matthew 4:8-10.

8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 9 “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” 10 Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’ "

It's really not weird at all, it just takes some recognition that Jesus and the Father are both God without one being the other. The Lord is one, yet He also has three persons - not separate deities, nor independent persons who can go against the will of God - that are the two aforementioned plus the Holy Spirit. For our sake, we can consider the set up to be something like:

The Father is the one who has set the law in place.

Jesus is the only begotten Son of God, sinless and perfect and for our sake, born in flesh so as to be the new representative of mankind that Adam failed to be. Like @return-of-the-blech pointed out in his response, Jesus died for our sake.

The Holy Spirit is God among us, dwelling in His people; a seal for redemption and our aid in living righteously.

So for Jesus to say what he did in verse 10 up there, he is not only - as a man - rebuking the devil as to who it is that man should worship and serve, but as God he is incapable of failing like we would and do.

As for Mark 14:61-62, is it confusion over the "Son of Man" moniker? That one gets a lot of people, even scholars and early church fathers, but what's really needed to be understood is that it doesn't change who Christ is - its one of many titles given to him; he's also known as "The Word made flesh" and "David's root".

And now for, yet again, your evolution.

"Evolution has nothing to do with the origin of life" then why bring it up? You keeping coming back to this point like I'm going to forfeit the logic of cause-and-effect for "no cause-and-effect". Look, the incredible findings of how life forms are astounding, and I fear far more appreciated by me than you given you're trying to use the natural world as evidence against God, but science isn't a faith, it's a tool, a process for us to explore the reality we've found ourselves in. How ridiculous of us to walk into a garden, see how everything works so well together, and say "there's no way intelligent design was behind this".

Ultimately, evidence for God's existence, and that being the God of christianity, does come down to faith. This sure as hell isn't me copping out, nor is this a "Let's agree to disagree" type deal, but a fundamental understanding of how we see the world and what a God's place in it is. Would it be safe for me to assume that you don't believe Jesus actually existed? Certainly not that he actually was who he claimed to be, right?

To deny that there was an actual, historical Jesus is to practice that fringe belief of "mythicism". To believe he was actually God can indeed take more convincing - and I'll gladly recommend to you William Lane Craig and YouTube ministry "InspiringPhilosophy" to go over far more science, history, and philosophy than I'm currently capable of; I am but a mere construction worker - whereas I am a man wholly believing in Jesus Christ and his claims because of:

Personal testimony.

The animosity and persecution against his people and his name, as he said would happen.

The inherent message against the world and its ways that we are prone to loving.

The global and historical impact christianity has had on the world.

The satisfactory answer found I'm christian scripture as to why the world is like the way it is and why people are so cruel.

I'm more philosopher than scientist, I'm afraid, hence why all the "why?" I've thrown at you.

You know what? As a gesture of goodwill, I'll be sure to read each of those articles you've shared. It will not be something I get done in one day, but I will commit to reading.

Please Lord Almighty, please bring about the the death of Scientology in my lifetime. Please bring to justice it's leaders and please give mercy to all of its members.

[c-is-for-circinate]

a penny for your Ashton thoughts?

ASHTON GREYMORE MY BELOVED

Fair warning, I am once again half an episode behind, plus I'm pretty scattered today, but let's have some bullet points and see what ensues.

Anybody remember when, a couple of months ago, some posts went around about how 'everyone says Ashton's So Loyal but that's bullshit and people letting their affection for Taliesin overrule their objectivity'? No? Well I do and I AM STILL SMUG ABOUT THEM BEING WRONG.

Seriously, this rock is the walking personification of "I don't care," I said, caringly, as I cared deeply. We all know this by now, I think. I love it with my whole heart.

Something fascinating to me about Ashton in comparison with Taliesin's other characters: they are, every one of them, Extremely Sure they know how the world (or their specific part of it, at least) works. Part of what's great about that is how often the things they're Sure Of disagree -- Percy, Molly, and Caduceus in a room together and asked to debate human nature would be a wild show to watch from the other side of a bulletproof one-way mirror, safe behind blast doors. And so far Ashton is in their own way perhaps the least obviously Absolutely Sure out of all of them, which is really interesting in its own way! It means when I think about Ashton, I always find myself pondering: what ARE they Sure of?

I think we saw our biggest hint about that with his rage during the Hytroga heist. There are rules. You keep your word. If you create an agreement, you keep it. Breaking an agreement like that is WRONG, fundamentally, core-of-how-the-world-works wrong, and people who do that should Pay For It.

The other half of Ashton's worldview seems to be something along the line of 'people are assholes' -- put together, "People are assholes, but there are rules." Certainly 'people are assholes' is probably the part he'd say out loud! Which makes it really interesting that, by the standards of a Taliesin Character, Ashton is practically halfhearted about this one. They certainly don't believe that people never act for reasons of loyalty and love. I think about Ashton in comparison to Percy or Molly, in particular -- Percy and Molly, who were quite sure that the universe contained Decent People and Terrible People, and that they could quite readily tell the difference. (Percy might have had ranks for 'tolerable people', a category that could theoretically be applied to either Decent or Terrible people, but it was all very much something appropriately categorized.) Ashton doesn't go around the world expecting to find Terrible People the way they did. He goes around expecting to find assholes, which is a statement of general dickishness but also not, like, a thing to get morally offended over or be surprised about. Even the kind of prissy rich people that Molly would have loathed (lord, Molly meeting Jiana Hexum?) fall comfortably onto Ashton's scale of 'yeah, they're an asshole, that's whatever -- no, OBVIOUSLY you can't trust them, but who trusts people?' There are very, very few individuals who seem to rate Ashton's 'no, this person is so awful they have forfeited their right to be treated with decency and rules' classification. Thinking about how he flipped out about Hytroga, it almost feels like it's a surprise to him. Like Ashton goes around pseudo-cheerfully expecting a certain baseline of shittiness in the general tone of 'why would I be SURPRISED by that?', and when someone fails to live up to even those (complicated, only-known-to-him) standards, it hits right in the gut.

There's an interesting tie-in here with how Ashton thinks people thinks of him, specifically. Ashton thinks of themself as 'that asshole, who people may at any given time be annoyed with/furious at/relatively meh about'. And like, that's...sort of true? They have a really low charisma score! Various NPCs have indeed come pre-annoyed with him! But Justi was reasonably pleased to see him, and Milo saved their damn life and then let them keep living in their punk squat house, and the Bells Hells love him. I think that might be part of why 'people are assholes' is such a complicated thing, for Ashton. Yeah, people are dicks -- but it's not like they're going to just ignore the fact that friendship and love and loyalty exist too. That sometimes people are inexplicably fond of them in ways they can use. (and meanwhile, Ashton has been so, so lonely, Ashton who was almost fond of Jiana Hexum for being a person he could rely on who considered him Of Use, Ashton who's all in on Bells Hells as a crew and FCG in particular, who lets Laudna goo-cry on their shoulder and plays with Fearne and is Kind Of A Dick (affectionate) with them all. Ashton who was so ready to be valued and has gone all in on it immediately.)

...oh motherfucker, if Chetney is Travis's version of Nott, then Ashton is Taliesin playing Beau.

That aside, it's been great to see them in Basuras for multiple reasons, including the fact that it really beautifully illustrates exactly how and why "People are assholes, but there are rules" might become a life philosophy. In a lot of ways, that's the core motto of this entire town! People are assholes, everywhere, always, and nobody ever really stops them -- but there are a few central fundamental tenets to how things work around here, and if you break them you are in for a WORLD of hurt.

Honestly, it has been such a joy to watch Ashton in Basuras. They're in their element and it's wonderful! They know the town, the players, the rules, the games, the local legends. How many years has it been since Ashton's been here? And Justi and the All-Minds-Burn collective still remembers them fondly? It may be a shithole, but this is home.

Lastly, I have had SO much joy watching Ashton take FCG's whole "oh, Ashton is our leader!" to heart. He's never made a big deal out of it, never given orders exactly, but in a leaderless collective of fuckwits all trying to Twitch Plays Pokemon their way through life, Ashton has been guiding discussions, proposing plans, and doing a really unexpectedly excellent job of nudging disordered chaos into action. Part of it's because this is home turf and Ashton knows what's what here, but -- every time they tell Chetney to keep an eye out for if the group's being followed and Chetney immediately goes with it, every time Ashton checks in with the group to see whether certain people are okay -- it's so good! I love it so much! It doesn't work during fights exactly, because barbarian rage tunnel vision (contrast Fjord, who did similar nudging and guiding things but was also very much a battlefield controller with a good big-picture view of the whole field most of the time, especially by the end), but on a general day-to-day basis...at least in Basuras, Ashton is actually acting as the group leader, and I love it so much.

At any rate, the tumblr grapevine suggests that the second half of this week's episode is going to involve Dusk getting revealed as Secret Inside Assassin PC, and I am stoked to see how Ashton reacts to that. Ugh. Do I need to just bite the Twitch Subscription bullet for weekend VODs, given that this state of bed-at-mid-break affairs is likely to continue for...literally evermore, with this new job? I think I do. I really think I do.

[not-a-space-alien]

Savage Sunset Chapter 8S

Story masterpost

Complementary chapter

In this chapter: Local woman staunchly refuses to admit she cares about anything while obviously caring about everything

Content/Content warnings for this chapter: References to torture

It was easy enough to get past the secretary–they hadn’t made an appointment to talk to the director like they were supposed to, but Jenny had told them he was free at 3:00 and she would pencil them in on short notice.  The fact that Lex was pretty and batted her eyelashes at Jenny probably helped.

“Your three o’clock is here,” Jenny said, cracking the door open, then she opened it wide and gestured them inside.  Director Griswald sat behind his desk, important-looking paperwork spread all over it in front of him.

Lex’s eyes swept up and down him.  She barely ever saw him, and was struck afresh by how intimidating he looked each time.  He was a solid, tall man, with a serious expression, accentuated by the scarring on the side of his neck:  the telltale two puncture wounds sitting in a web of white scar tissue indicating they had been reopened many times.

“Yo, Director G,” said Ari, plopping down into a chair and sitting her boots up on his desk.  “We gotta talk about something.”

The director looked a bit peeved, but said nothing.  Lex took the second chair more primly, crossing her hands on her lap.  “We’ve met before, right?  We interviewed with you when we were recruited.”

The director’s face broke into a smile.  “Oh, yes!  Alexis and Ariana, I remember you now!  Nicky told me you were the ones who brought him the live capture.  Excellent work, very good.”

“Yeah,” said Ari gruffly, “that’s what we wanted to talk to you about, actually.”  She leaned forward and rifled through the candy dish on the director’s desk, taking out a lollipop and sticking it in her mouth, chewing on it.  “Shit’s fucked, DG.  It ain’t right.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Nick is torturing him,” said Lex.  “It’s inhumane.  It’s not moral to do that to a living being.  We wanted to talk with you about putting a stop to it.”

“We treat animals better than that,” said Ari.

The director tented his hands and leaned forward.  “Vampires are not animals, Ariana.”

“...I’m aware.”

“Vampires are neither animals nor humans.  They’re a dangerous creature capable of rational thought, but not morals.  They know what they’re doing is wrong, but they choose to do it anyway, and they don’t feel bad about it.  So forgive me if I'm not sympathetic to one's plight."

"It's not about sympathy," said Ari. "Trust me, I'm not sympathetic either. I wouldn't be here unless Lex made me come.  It's just basic morality. It's just not right to do that to any living creature, no matter how evil it is."

The director folded his hands.  “You’ve never seen the blood farms, have you?”

“I was almost sent there,” said Lex angrily.  “I was right outside the blood farms, about to be delivered, before I was rescued.”

“But you were outside.”

Lex still had nightmares about it.  The cruel laughter of the vampires delivering her.  The plume of black smoke from the smokestack of the building out the barred window of the truck.

“Yes,” she said icily.  “I was outside.”

“You weren’t in one. Everyone who’s been kept in vampire territory for a significant amount of time can testify that their cruelty is breathtaking.  If you’d been kept there for longer than a few hours, you would probably change your tune.”

“Lex just said no matter how evil it is,” said Ari.  “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s idealistic, but unrealistic, to have such lofty ideas like that.  This is an extreme situation, so extreme measures are warranted. That creature was here to steal humans. The depravity needed to condemn masses of people to such a fate by your own hand without remorse…  This vampire has forfeited whatever version of humanity applies to it.”

"I'm not sure if you understand how bad it is," said Lex. "There are pictures-"

"I've seen the pictures."

"You've…seen the pictures."

"And it doesn't bother you?" Ari snapped, aggravated.

"Of course it bothers me. I'm not a sadist. But I think, in this situation, it's a case of the ends justifies the means."

Lex felt guilty. She'd noticed that Nick had been improving the weapons and gadgets he'd been designing for the organization.

He shuffled the paperwork on his desk.  “In the intervening months, the vampire hunters have killed an additional thirteen vampires beyond expectations from before Nick’s innovation started, and saved an additional twenty-six human lives.  That’s just in our county.  For this period of time, we would have expected four or five pairs of hunters to be killed in the line of duty, and that number in the past few months has been one.”

“One?”

“One pair of hunters killed.  Nick’s findings are making vampire hunting more effective and safer for us.  Now, I don’t take the thought of human experimentation–er, vampire experimentation, I mean–lightly.  But I would gladly trade the life of one vampire–and the life of one of the worst kinds of vampire that exists–for a few dozen innocent human lives.  Wouldn’t you?”

Ari was stone-faced.  He looked at her.  “Ariana?”

Ari sneered and leaned in, rolling the lollipop from one side of her mouth to the other with her tongue.  “Only my mother calls me Ariana.”

“Well, I apologize.  But the point still stands.”

“Surely there must be some other way to do those experiments.”

“I doubt it.  Having a live test subject right there can’t really be replaced in terms of special weapons development.”

“But,” said Lex weakly, unable to mount a defense.  “It’s–it’s so cruel.  I don’t think anything justifies that.  I-I know it makes sense to try to save more people, but–but, I–”

“I understand what you’re saying.  I really do,” said the director.  “And I think it’s very noble of you to raise the complaint.  But I authorized Nick to carry out those experiments, and I’m not going to tell him to stop.  In fact…”

His hand slid into his desk and brought out a checkbook.  “...Nick told me to keep up his pace of work, he would need a second live capture.  I’d be willing to increase the bounty for a repeat of your feat.  I know you find it distasteful, so I’d make it worth your while.”

Ari narrowed her eyes.  “How much?”

“Twenty thousand.”

Her eyebrows flew up.  That was…quite a number.  They could pay off the house with that.

“Half up front.  If you agree, you walk out with a check today.”

“No,” said Lex, while the candy in Ari’s mouth crunched.  Lex looked over at her.  She had a stormy look on her face.  Lex could tell she was considering it.  “We can’t.”

Ari pinched the lollipop stick between her fingers like it was a cigarette, and stubbed it on the desk.  “We will discuss it and get back to you later.”

“I-I won’t,” said Lex.  She stood.  “I won’t be part of an organization that does such things.  I–I’ll resign on the spot if you don’t–”

“Lex,” snapped Ari.  “Stop.”

“You can’t–can’t expect me to go along with–”

“I’m not expecting you to anything besides talk about it later.  We’re obviously not gonna change the director’s mind on this, and quitting won’t fix anything.”  Ari stood, reaching out to the candy dish and taking a handful of suckers, sticking them in her pocket.  “We’ll be in touch.”

Lex was on the verge of tears as Ari took her arm and dragged her out.  Ari closed the door to the office behind her, and waved to Jenny on the way out.

Only when they were out in the parking lot did Lex wrench her hand out of Ari’s grasp.  “How could you!” she cried.  “Ari, you can’t sell your soul like that!  Kidnapping people to bring them back for horrible torture is what they do!  That’s why we fight them!”

Ari made tight, aggravated gestures, voice strained and impatient.  “I know, that’s why I thought we should get out of the office without making a scene, because if we make a big stink about how much we disapprove, then it’s gonna raise suspicion for when we later go do some shady shit the director doesn’t want us to, if you catch my drift.”

“...Oh?”

Ari smiled wickedly, unlocking the doors to the van.  “I mean, I just kind of assumed we would be sneaking back in later tonight, when everyone else was gone.  Since you’re forcing my hand and all.”

***

Tag list <3

@annablogsposts

@darlingwhump

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@whumpsday

[lilflowerpot]

I'm not sure if you answered something like this yet (because, and believe me I say this in the most positive way, There's So Much (and I super duper love it)), but after reading your take on galra entertaining, I wonder if Keith ever faced issues growing up bc he just wanted to see stuff be bloodier and rougher on tv and stuff. (I'm not saying that stuff doesn't exist, but probably by the time he knew how to find it, he was probably made to feel ashamed of it, or at least to see it as something "wrong" with him) (Also I know entertainment is based a lot on the social context but that but of galra could've shone through)

((there’s literally So Much ikik,, much like the fic itself this blog has snowballed beyond my wildest imaginings))

Given that we’re talking about entertainment here, I’d argue that the galra populace’s general taste is predominately a result of nurture over nature—by which I mean that, irrespective of biology or instinct, it’s more likely that how they’re socialised has greater bearing on what they deem entertaining than some innate species-wide trait—but either way it’s not actually the violence itself that tends to get the galra people going,, it’s the competitive element. As a typically high-energy kinetic people, the galra like physical challenges because such things tend to appeal to their nature: any blood/injury is more byproduct than endgame. Additionally there’s the idea of justice to consider, because I do think of the galra as operating on “an eye for an eye” kind of system that’s considered very blunt but also generally fair (ie. to take a life outside the confines of that which is considered fair and just is to forfeit your own right to live, ergo the punishment would fit the crime in a very literal sense).

Under Zarkon’s rule, yes, there is a certain cultural cruelty that has been deliberately fostered due to the emperor being hell-bent on universal conquest for literal millennia, and therefore wanting to cultivate a society that best serves his purposes but... I’d definitely rather steer clear of this idea that there’s this entire race of “inherently violent” people,,,, I feel like the slew of harmful implications behind that narrative are obvious enough that I don’t need to explain them.

So far as this relates to Keith, he wasn’t born with any sort of biological impulse that drove him to seek out violent/gory media, but he has always had an innate sense of justice and so very much enjoyed narratives in which the villain got what was coming to them... the misunderstanding therein being that outsiders perhaps mistook his pleasure at seeing a violent end befall a violent person as being a taste for violence itself—which, as you can imagine, when combined with his galra bonding instincts, [ 1 | 2 ] painted an unflattering and incredibly unfair picture of him as some sort of degenerate from a young age.