#guess they learn from the american soldiers

[chaiaurchaandni]

saw someone on twitter, whose family is in gaza, say the same thing: her sister told her that israelis are executing palestinian men and boys aged over 16, abducting them, forcing them to strip. these are displaced civilians and survivors. some people are defending the forceful stripping by saying that the purpose is to ensure there's no bomber vest/weapons which is ridiculous bec if that was the purpose, why are they taking pictures like trophies and circulating them online? why do they even suspect civilian men and boys trying to find safety with their families to be wearing a bomber vest? israelis have been releasing videos of stripping and beating palestinians since oct 7 - many of the palestinians victimized this way have been from the west bank. palestinians held in israeli jails are also stripped and beaten in a way that is hauntingly reminiscent of american crimes in abu ghraib prison in iraq.

[wolfram-but-art]

i think??? tumblr just ate one of my asks???

so uuuhhh sorry to the anon that asked how the mercs would celebrate Archie's birthday sgyef i'm gonna asnwer it here though

My idea was that they would celebrate like any other birthday!

They would definetly have to explain to him what the concept of a birthday is though, i think he'd be pretty confused at first

[pathetichimbos]

guys... I gotta talk about this. bear with me, it's gonna be a rollercoaster.

<nsfw under cut f!reader implied but not outright stated I guess>

---

Thomas having sex for the first time.

Oh boy. Oh boy. So many thoughts.

I don't care what anyone says. Thomas is a 30+ year old virgin. We stan him. We love him. We're gonna ruin him.

But first, let's talk about all the stuff in his life building up to it.

So, as I've stated many, many times before, Thomas was primarily isolated from kids his age when he was 13-14, so he didn't really have an outlet to explore anything in a safe manner with anyone. (Not that it would have been all that safe in the first place... these kids wildin')

And we also know that he grew up in a pretty conservative household (a.ka. patriotic god fearing americans), so we all know that he was most likely too embarrased and ashamed by his own attraction to explore anything by himself either. (whoo boy been there buddy)

And we know that as an older, proud, southern woman, Luda Mae most likely did not have any sort of sex talk with Thomas other than telling him it was for grown, married folks only.

But, you know what we didn't know?

Charlie wasn't around to have the talk with him either.

I was rewatching The Beginning (oh wow, really? what a surprising turn of events) and something I've heard dozens of times before caught my eye.

1952. Sergeant Major 'Hoyt' was a POW in the Korean war.

August, 1939. Luda Mae finds a discarded newborn in the dumpster outside the slaughterhouse.

1939-1952.

Depending on the month (but we can assume it was many, many months), Thomas was 12 or 13 when Charlie served in the Army.

So, while Thomas is dropping out of school and isolating himself from his family and peers, the only sense of a father figure is serving / being held captive by enemy soldiers.

And personally, I don't believe Thomas and Monty are that close. Monty doesn't seem to take any sort of interest in Thomas, and Thomas was a little too willing to chop his legs off. So I sincerely doubt he was any sort of help.

So, really, I wouldn't be all that surprised if Thomas doesn't really know what sex is. He has a general idea of the meaning and that it's reserved for marriage, but other than crude, most likely misogynistic comments from the older men in his life, he doesn't really know anything about it.

So, when he actually does meet someone (and tie the knot) and all of those feelings come rushing in, he's more than overwhelmed. It takes a long time before he can actually handle going all the way.

For the first part of your intimacy, it's a lot of soft talks and encouragement, and explaining everything to him. He has no idea how to make you feel good, so it's up to you to show him literally everything.

You have to build up to the actual sex, and even after you do it for the first time, he's going to need you to keep hold of the lead until he's familiar and comfortable with it all.

He's a mess when you finally do it. He's clinging to you, trying so hard not to hold you too tightly, a whining mess in your ear, burying his face in your neck and panting wildly. It's awkward, and bumpy, and he finishes way too fast (and you don't even get the chance) but the way he melts into your touch with that blissed out look in his eyes makes it worth it.

And trust me, he gets better. He's a quick learner, and as long as you tell him exactly what to do, he goes from a fumbling mess to making your toes curl in no time.

He spends an ungodly amount of time watching and learning what gets you going. The sounds, the sights, the movements, everything.

He could spend hours on you, but he's still new to this, so he gets distracted really easily.

He lives off praise, the more you give him the more fuzzy his brain gets until he's a whining mess. (He makes a LOT of noises). He loves when you leave scratches. (Nothing too deep or scarring, but the feeling drives him crazy). He likes when you tug his hair to make him look at you. (He's big on eye contact, specifically when you're more 'making love' than 'we've got five minutes before someone walks into the kitchen').

....Now this next thing I'm gonna say is going to upset plenty of people, but hear me out.

Realistically, I don't think Thomas enjoys going down.

I know, I know, it's a SUPER unpopular opinion as pretty much every headcanons him as being super into giving head, BUT, I have my reasonings.

It's not that he dislikes the act itself, and in fact, I'm sure he actually loves it, but we do have to remember that he has a rather severe skin condition mostly centered around his face.

This means his skin is super sensitive to certain things like strong chemicals, intense fragrances, hot water, and anything with a high acidity.

And going down with absolutely cause an irritable flare up that will hurt. A lot.

So, no, realistically, I don't think he'd do it, just for that reason.

Do I think he'd enjoy doing it if he could? Yea, absolutely, I just don't think he can.

Anyways. I don't know what this was. But it would not leave my brain, so. I guess this is my introductory to the smut I want to start writing. Who knows. We'll see.

[missmyloko]

Hi! Lately, I have been very interested in Maiko/ Geiko and Yujō/Oiran/Tayū culture, their differences, but the most popular known books, documentaries have so many lies and discrepancies. I hope you might know some answers.

I don’t know if you read “Autobiography of a geisha” by Masuda Sayo, but she described her life as a hot-springs geisha during W2. While she learned “gei” (art), what happened to her was truly not different from prostitution. She was given different points after sleeping with men depending whether he was her danna, someone else’s danna or just a random guy.

There is this whole thing about American soldiers thinking “geisha” meant “prostitute”, bc some of the prostitutes decided to dress as geisha to attract more customers, I suppose?

Then, what Americans thought wasn’t exactly wrong (if we are not looking at Kyoto or Osaka)? Or was Masuda Sayo just a prostitute and she herself didn’t even know about it?

Are geisha outside of major districts (idk how to call them, Ponchoto, Gion Kobu etc) not considered geisha? Were times just so difficult that geisha had to resolve to prostitution under a banner of love instead of money, so it doesn’t make it illegal? Did Masuda just lie?

Masuda Sayo wrote the book herself in freaking Kanji, I believe her more than what “foreigners”, who only lived in geisha district for a couple of months, managed to understand. And Mineko Iwasaki was a queen among the geisha of completely different time period. I am more curious about how life was for “third rate” geisha.

I guess I am just somewhat confused about the statement that “Geisha are not prostitutes”, while there is an account that poor country girls sold in shitty okiyas were in fact as good as prostitutes.

In specific areas of Japan there used to be "double registered" geisha; that is, they were registered by the government to work as both geisha and as prostitutes. However, there were areas that worked under these double registration rules but didn't have official registration, so pretty much anything went. Sayo Masuda worked in one of those areas. These areas were often in small seaside towns or resort villages, which lead to onsen geisha having a tainted name that endures to this day. What they considered a geisha may as well have been night and day from what was going on in the large cities that had proper geisha associations that actually looked out for their members. This isn't to say that districts like Gion Kobu or Pontocho were perfect as at the time that Masuda was active young girls were still being sold into the karyukai across the country. So, where geisha populations were large and in larger cities they were primarily just geisha who, by government law, could not engage in prostitution. However, in small towns and villages, those who were identifying themselves as geisha also often took part in prostitution on the side as it was sadly a way for them to "serve" their customers. Sayo Masuda also wrote her autobiography in hiragana, not kanji, as she couldn't read or write kanji since she never had a formal education. American GIs brought back stories of "geesha girls" due to women who were not geisha but used one of the only Japanese words that they knew to have sex with for money in order to survive after the war. The Americans had no idea what a real geisha looked like and the karyukai didn't reopen (if they weren't bombed to shreds) until 1947. So, there were two years of regular women calling themselves geisha having sex with GIs that really didn't help with the Western perspective of geisha. By the time that Mineko Iwasaki came along, which was decades after Masuda was active and the Americans had mostly pulled out of Japan, prostitution had been made illegal across the country, so no double registered geisha existed anymore and no geisha anywhere were supposed to be having sex on the side for money (sex on the side is fine as long as it's consensual between two adults and no money is being exchanged though). Since geisha are incredibly exclusive for the most part, it's far cheaper and easier to hire a call girl or a hostess if someone wants to have illegal sex in Japan (it would be naïve to say that it doesn't happen even though it's illegal). So, were there different "levels" of geisha when Sayo Masuda was active? Of course. Was she lying? I don't believe so. Her story is extremely compelling and detailed to the point where it would be hard to be made up. Were the lines blurred on what was a "geisha" prior to World War II? Depending on where you were, yes. Has the karyukai changed drastically since that time? Very much so. Is there still work to be done when it comes to how geisha are perceived both inside and outside of Japan? Indeed, there's quite a great deal. But, we all have to start somewhere and I hope that this has helped to answer your questions ^^

[mistkisbiggestfan]

Hii here for a tf2 request

May I request a Scout x GN reader where Soldier it's like reader's paternal figure?

He likes to take care of them and tends to protect then the most, so he does the "strict parent" thing when he discovers reader and Scout are dating?? :3

(Sorry if the explication was a bit vague or hard to understand, good afternoon :3!!)

Scout x Gn! Adopted child of Soldier! Reader

Scout x Gn! Adopted child of Soldier! Reader

A/n: Hey guys REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

Words: 824 Request: Yes

You were a mercenary just like others, a gun for hire, or more like it, an insane person getting paid for their antics. 

You and Soldier met years before, in a US army barrack, you were a nobody’s child, orphan, left near an army base, so you grew up there. All of the armists took care of you, mostly the drill sergeants. 

But then, Soldier came around, he became your role model, a true father figure, since all you knew was the army, you never felt the true nature of a parent who is a nurturer.

Where Soldier went, it was guaranteed you would be there learning how to be like him. Only difference – you were a tad bit smarter than your found family member, drill sergeants made you sure you were smart as f&!#. 

The goofiest father – child duo on earth, you knew how to rocket jump before you could swim. (Which ended in you almost drowning after falling into a river from the jump). 

When both of you ended up as mercenaries, others had to deal with not one, but two! Two daredevil American patriots (No way of telling if you were American or not, but no matter what, Soldier made sure you felt American to the core). 

You and Scout were very different, he was a loverboy, and you? A tough nutcase. Example.: Soldier taught you to always sleep with a loaded shotgun near, for safety.

You had your fair share of love interests, but anytime Soldier found out he would kidnap the person and make them survive in a forest, just so he knew the person was good enough for you (guess what happened after that, everytime without fail. Boom! You were now single).

All of your teammates liked you, since you were raised a soldier, you could help out with almost any task someone needed. Medic needs help amputating? You’re the first person in the operation room, even before the actual patient. No spare parts for a Sentry? You’re on it. Spy needs more cigs? Yes sir!

You even tend to help Miss Pauling out, managing to scare her anytime you show up unannounced. Since Ms. Pauling and Scout were friends, she knew he was into you, the way he talked about you, the way he smiled at the mention of your name, yeah there was something he wasn’t telling her.

Miss Pauling knew Scout wanted to take you out even before he did. So did Spy and Medic.

For you, the people who helped you realize it were Heavy and Sniper. 

Both you and Scout were talking, goofing around, drinking “Bonk – Cola”, just hanging around, when you did so, Medic and Heavy both looked at each other and started quietly talking.

— Do you remember when we used to be like that Doktor? 

— Ja.. Days pass so fast, look at them all grown up.

— Are you two talking ‘bout my child maggots?

Soldier butted in. He was then left clueless as Medic & Heavy left. 

Soon you realized that there was something about Scout, he was just such a great guy to be around, especially when he acted like his actual self, sure his cocky persona was nice, but under it hid a sweet boy.

You liked loved him for that, and that’s how you realized, “I don’t think I like him just as friends… F#!k.” .

Of all the people Scout turned to Spy for advice, it went terrible. He tried – The whole pickup line was so confusing you just laughed your ass off and then Medic called you. “See you around Scout ^^”

Then Scout called his mom and had a heart to heart about it, the conversation really helped him to actually be true about his feelings to you, this was way different then all he had felt before.

So the same night, he decided to be real about his feelings. Both of you sat on the roof of the base and looked at the stars while he confessed his feelings.

After a long silence, and his distraught face, you kissed him! ❀

Then came the worst part – Telling Soldier.

You were excited to share the news with Soldier, Scout? Not so.

Being Soldier’s closest person, a child of his, made you incapable of fearing fear around him, so you assured Scout it’ll be fine.

Scout decided to be a man and tell Soldier alone. 

— Soldier, sir… 

— Scout why in the h#ll are you talking like that. Are you a spy!?

— No!! I just wanted to tell you.. Eh, sir? That me and Y/N are dating.

— Are you kidding boy?

— No?

— You better be.

He took out a shotgun!! 

Of course he did. Anyways, other than that, of course he had the typical conversation of “Hurt them and I’ll pop this shotgun in your face maggot.” 

Scout was almost pissed himself when Soldier just pointed the gun to his face. 

As you said, it went great!

[iblameashley]

Allies, Uniform and Solidarity.

Military | Male | Gay

1,700 words Content: Homophobia, Violence (implied), Coming out, Allies, Happy ending, Poorly translated German

Sebastian Krueger | Male/Military Reader

!!!SFW!!!

It was a long day of training exercises and all you wanted to do was relax quietly in your quarters. The joint-military operation had been going mostly well until word got around that you were gay. It didn't take long for shit to hit the fan, and today didn't appear any different. And then Krueger appeared.

You were standing in the barracks, looking out the window as the rain poured and pattered against the glass. The training exercise had been completed just prior to the downpour and most of the men had made off the the common area to relax and socialize. You had opted to not join them, the exercises were bad enough with the looks and whispers from some of the other soldiers, and you just wanted to forget the unwanted attention that followed you since you had been outed on base.

There was a flash of light that momentarily blinded you, as if God himself was punishing the base. The loud crack of thunder ran in your ears, and as it subsided you heard the heavy steps of boots getting closer. They stopped at your door.

There was a heavy knock and you let out a sigh. “Come in.” You replied exasperated already.

The door creaked open and as you turned around you saw Staff Sergeant Dixon, an American also on loan for this joint operation, flanked by two of his lackeys whose names you couldn't be arsed to learn. You looked at them through half-lidded eyes and grit your teeth. You knew what was coming.

“Hey, fairy.” he sneered.

Fuck you wanted to deck that cocky face of his, but he was a superior officer and you were a guest on this base.

“The military is only for real men, not cock-sucking deviants. Why'd they even bring you here?” He added with a lopsided smirk.

You balled your hand into a fist but kept it at your side, letting your knuckles go white.

He took a step inside your quarters and postured like a neanderthal. The entourage stepped in behind him and you prepared for an altercation. A memory flashed in your mind of the first time you came out and the beating that ensued.

Dixon's brow furrowed, getting increasingly angry at your lack of response. A vein started to pulse in his forehead. “No one wants a faggot bunk-bunny, ya' hear?” He said, continuing his provocation.

He reached out and gripped at your uniform, pulling you close to his face.

“I'm fucking talking to you! Answer me!” He yelled. The smell of stale coffee lingering on his breath.

The muscles in your face twitched, disgusted by the smell. You swallow hard.

Never one to shy away from a cutting remark, even if it cost you a broken nose and a few bruised ribs, you smiled back at Dixon. “I guess they need to counterbalance my cock-sucking with your ass-sucking.” You taunted with a grin.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Dixon yelled as he shoved you backwards. His face reddened with indignation.

You stumbled and landed against the wall, bracing yourself on the windowsill. You took a moment before standing and regaining your composure.

As you steadied your body, you gave your neck and back a crack, readying yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

“Just calling it as I see it.” You fired back. You ran your tongue over your teeth as you positioned yourself to fight.

A small crowd was forming outside your door, wondering what the commotion was all about. Dixon's shadows stood there with arms crossed and shit-eating grins on their face, looking forward to what was about to happen.

“Still time to leave.” You reminded Dixon, offering him an out of this situation. “These are my quarters, after all.”

Dixon had just positioned himself with a fist pulled back when the crowd behind him parted.

“I believe the Sergeant gave you the chance to leave.” A voice boomed.

Lieutenant Krueger had materialized in the threshold of your doorway, his massive shoulders nearly filling the entry.

He stood there with his arms crossed over his tactical vest and his head wrapped in its usual scrim netting. “Vhat's going on here?” He asked in his thick German accent.

Dixon relaxed his arm and turned to Krueger; painting on a cocky-but-friendly look.

“Nothing going on here, sir.” Dixon replied, standing at attention.

You didn't need to see his face to know that Krueger didn't believe a word of it. He simply tilted his head slightly and thought for a moment.

You could see his brown eyes bouncing between you and Dixon. It was then you realized you were still poised for a fight. You let out a low breath and dropped your am to you side, standing up straight.

“Everyone out. Now!” Krueger commanded.

Without any hesitation, the group of soldiers began to file out and down the corridor silently.

He flashed Dixon another look.

“Don't wander far, ve're not done.” He scoffed as Dixon shuffled past him and out the door.

Krueger waited until he could no longer hear the boot steps before closing the door to your room.

His posture relaxed and he gestured towards my bed. “May I have a vord?” He asked in a surprisingly soft tone.

You had been under the impression you were about to get a lecture from the imposing man. Most of the soldiers had avoided Krueger unless running training exercises or reporting to him.

Suddenly your throat was dry and you could only give Krueger a nod before taking a seat on the edge of your bed. It creaked under your weight as you watch Krueger walk confidently to your desk and pull out your chair. He spun it around before taking a seat; leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. He cleared his throat.

“I saw most of vhat happened.” He began. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Did he start it?” Krueger asked.

You swallow a lump in your throat; feeling like you've been pulled into the principals office. You stared at your boots for a moment before looking up to Krueger. He had to know what this was about. He had to.

“I don't want to start trouble.” You finally mumble. You rest your arms on your legs and tap at your knee anxiously.

“That's not vhat I asked you.” Krueger fired back.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the anger the burned in them, but you were just so tired of the never ending harassment since you had come out.

“With all due respect sir, what happens in my quarters is none of your business.”

Fuck. You fucked up. You knew it the moments the words fell from your mouth and you saw it in Kruegers eyes.

Kruger just sighed though and loosed up. “Ja, its true.” He nodded, “But you are a guest on this base and I don't want any problems.” I explained, his voice dropping to a more concerned tone. “But I also know prejudice well.” He continued after a beat.

"He started the verbal altercation, I was about to start the physical." You admitted. There was a knot of shame in your stomach that you didn't understand. You didn't really do anything wrong, so why feel this way? You didn't have time to really think it over though as Krueger wasn't done speaking.

He placed his foot back down on on the floor and leaned in.

“I know what its like to be...” He trailed off and his eyes darted back and forth as he composed his thoughts. “Its not accepted here to be... Especially not in the military.”

He let out a loud sigh before pulling his scrim down to expose his face.

Your eyes widened with surprise as you watched. He never did that. For anyone. But you couldn't help but commit his features to memory. The squared jaw, the full lips and broad nose. There was also the tan line, dry skin and a few scars, but he was still surprisingly handsome.

And then it hit you. While you were distracted by his face he had just admitted he was gay! Your brain nearly stopped working as that almost-confession was placed front and center in your thoughts.

“Are you..?” You asked cautiously. You leaned towards Krueger

“Es ist nicht einfach.” He sighed, fumbling back into German. “To be different but... inside still the same. To want the same...” He said pointing to his heart.

You could feel the frustration in his voice as a flood of emotions began to overtake him. You understood it well, the flurry of feelings well.

“Dieses Versteckenspiel, immer wachsam sein - es zermürbt einen. Aber was kann man tun, außer stark sein? Hier sind wir alle Brüder im Geiste, auch wenn andere es nicht sehen.” He continued, forgetting who he was speaking to. His hand waved in the air and he shrugged as he spoke. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose before looking at you.

You sat that with a confused look on your face.

“I... think I got the gist of that.” You remarked, a small smile forming on your face.

Kruegers chest began to bounce as he let out a breathy laugh that eventually turned into a boisterous laugh. It was deep and echoed through you room.

He shook his head and let out an embarrassed sigh. “Apologies. When I get fired up I sometimes slip back to German.” He explained.

You shook your head. “I think I get what you were saying. Its hard to keep the secret from everyone all the time?” You asked in a low voice.

“Ja.” Krueger nodded. “But we are also brothers, we are alike even if only we know.” He added for clarification.

“Thank you, Krueger.” You manage to choke out, he was the first ally you had since people had found out about your sexuality and this meant a lot.

“I... admire you.” Krueger added in a hushed tone. You felt the words laced with shame and sadness.

You cocked your head to the side and narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?” You questioned him.

“You may not have desired to... come out.” Krueger fumbled with his thoughts again. “You are brave.” He finally asserted. “Despite all this, you still serve, you still do your job and work hard. And you do it being your true self. I admire that.”

To say you were shocked would have been an understatement. You were far too flabbergasted to reply or notice Krueger had stood up.

“You are relieved of training duties for tomorrow. I will inform your CO of what happened.” Krueger commanded, snapping you back to reality. “You were still ready to start a fight and you have to be reprimanded you for that.” He explained as he slowly made his way to the door.

He turned to look at you before fixing his scrim netting. “I am happy I have found a friend.”

You could feel his sincere smile from under the netting, and nodded in his direction.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, genossin... I must deal with that ass-hole, Dixon.“ He grumbled.

Krueger made a swift exit, closing the door behind him and leaving you with your thoughts. You had an ally and a friend. Your heart swelled with a joy it hadn't felt before. Now all you had to do was figure out how to transfer to another military.

[yanaleese]

I didn’t see this or not, in his bio it said that his MAIN languages were Spanish & English. Correct?

This implies he knows more than these two, no?

So I guess what I’m asking is, in total…how many languages can he speak (doesn’t have to be fluent). If so, which languages? When/why did he learn them?

Well the thing is, Karma's trained to pick up languages and codewords easily as a soldier under the Dead Dove Organization. So he can kind of speak basic words of any language in survival situations, really. He was forced to pick things up quickly, since it was a do-or-die situation, which developed him into a more self-serving person in adulthood.

As for the number of languages he can use, he's really versatile. Out of all of my OCs, he is the worst enemy to have, but the best person to befriend.

Here's how I'd categorize them:

Fluency:

0 - no clue 5 - can handle conversations, but can make grammatical errors or mistakes 10 - absolute master at it I consider 7 and above as him speaking the language

Languages he had to learn from family (both 10): Spanish, Portuguese

Languages he was tutored in from a young age (7-9): English (9), French (7), Russian (7), American Sign Language (8), Salvadorian Sign Language (8), Spanish Sign Language (8)

Languages he had to pick up in training (3-6): Afrikaans (4), Wolof (3), Swahili (4), Yoruba (5) , Arabic (4), Farsi (4), Mandarin (3), Korean (4), Vietnamese (5), Tagalog (4), Malay (3),

Languages he learnt from travel/business (3-5): Japanese (5), Greek (3), Czech (4), Ukrainian (4), Algerian (3)

Currently Learning (1-2): Dutch (2), Javanese (1)

TLDR:

Number of languages he can speak (not including sign): 5 - Spanish, Portuguese, English, French, Russian Total number of languages: 8 - Spanish, Portuguese, English, French, Russian, ASL, SalSL, SpanSL Favorite Language: Spanish Hardest Language to learn (for him): You! (but in all seriousness - Wolof) Languages I will only display (cause I ain't no polygot): English, Spanish Languages I may display if I get language help: All of the languages listed

[germiyahu]

And if you really want me to examine why people in the global south also have such an animosity to Jewish sovereignty in their historic homeland, and seem to give Palestinian Resistance a carte blanche... well I'm definitely not as qualified but fine! I have some theories!

A lot of the Global South are Westerners, kind of. This is especially true for Latin America, and they hate to see it, but a huge proportion of those societies is descended from European settlers, their cultures are heavily influenced by Western cultures. A lot of these countries, especially Latin America (and South Africa too interesting) have also had their own substantial Jewish populations. So if it looks like kind of like a Western society, and it treats its own Jews like a Western society... need I go on?

A lot of the Global South, actually most of it, including the countries that fall in category one, was occupied violently by the West. This created another avenue to transfer Western values onto subjugated populations. And no, don't shake your head at me. You can't claim the GS's homophobia was forced on it by the West and then act like the same wouldn't apply to antisemitism? A lot of the Global South never had significant Jewish populations, that much is true. The concept of antisemitism might feel frivolous and remote to them; why is that our problem? See my own anon. All the same, they were colonized by Jew Haters. At the same time they'd lack exposure to say, Holocaust education, and also have exposure to say, the idea that Jews are overrepresented in global finance.

Even in areas where Western influence was never high historically, even when there are not significant Jewish populations, we live in a modern globalized world where Western culture is a commodity and that commodity makes people money. And people in the Global South consume it. Their conception of the average Jew is probably either an Israeli soldier in some news story about Palestinians being harassed, or a white(ish) American who seems the epitome of privilege to them. They use social media, they see what Americans and Europeans say about Jews. It's very easy to conform to whatever opinions are the loudest and most prevalent.

So a lot of Global South Denizens probably are used to persecuting Jews, expelling or killing Jews, and also dealing with colonial masters who were constantly telling them how Jews cannot be trusted. And for a lot of them, if Jews were present, they were there helping the occupying power, as many Jews were imperial citizens and were present in colonies in various occupations. The Imperial Powers would not have passed up the opportunity to pass the buck to Jews where it was convenient. I see a lot of Algerians excuse their cleansing of Jews as "The Jews were made the middle man by the French colonizers, and they reveled in turning their backs on their Algerian brothers." This excuses violent ethnic cleansing in their minds. Why? Because Western propaganda primed the gun they were already loading.

In essence: I'm not surprised that the Global South is "crying out" for Palestine. All they know about Jews they learned from the West, or they have their own history of violently oppressing Jews. Should any of us be surprised? If you picked anyone in their camp and pitted them against a Jewish state, anywhere in the world, they would still see Jews as a foreign arm of Western Imperial Power, sent by the Man to keep them down. Or the Jews would themselves be the Man I guess. Except then the Jewish claim to indigeneity would not only be more tenuous, it would be ludicrous and false on the face of it.

It's the same reason a lot of people of color in the West identify with Palestinians and the Palestinian struggle. I don't say they do so in error. But I wholeheartedly believe they and a lot of people in the GS are projecting their own societal trauma onto Israel. Obviously Israel is very much doing bad things, so this isn't coming from nothing. But if the vitriolic reactions to Israel and the blind support for literal fascists seem extreme, maybe that's why. They don't care to see the difference between an Israel and a Great Britain or a France. And I'm not saying they have to, but when Jews themselves are also a historically oppressed and nearly wiped out persecuted people, it can come across as fairly gauche to say there's no difference between Israel and Germany, to say that Jews just flat out don't belong in their historic homeland.

There you go, there's my unqualified opinion. Are you happy now?

[delurkr]

The Canadian Clarke AU - The Draft Lottery and the Move to Canada

This post concerns events that took place in 1970, 1971, and early 1972. Skip the first heading if you don't want an explanation of the relevant real-world info:

Background:

The Vietnam War had technically been going on for most of Dennis's life and it escalated in the 1960s, as did many Americans' resistance to the draft. From 1969 through 1972 the U.S. was drafting young men into the military through a lottery system. The function of the lottery was to assign a random number, ranging from 1 to 365 (or 366), to every day of the year, namely to every possible birthday. Each year, the numbers were drawn in an event publicized through every media outlet. The assigned numbers determined the order of who would be drafted in the following year: the first number called was 1, and the numbers increased until the cutoff the next year (December 31 unless otherwise extended), and then the next lottery would be drawn if needed.

To be clear, if you were a young man in the correct age bracket targeted by a given year's lottery, the random number assigned to your birthday told you how likely you were to be drafted the next year. The draft calls started with 1 and worked their way up throughout the year. The first Vietnam-era lottery, held in 1969, called men during 1970, and at the end of 1970 the highest number called turned out to be 195. That number sort of set the standard for individuals concerned about being drafted in future lotteries, although the numbers in following years never reached that high again.

So that was me trying to explain the relevant parts as clearly as I could, but here is the U.S. government webpage on the topic, with charts of the numbers assigned to every birthday in each year's lottery: Vietnam Lotteries | Selective Service System : Selective Service System (sss.gov)

The effect on Dennis:

Dennis was born on April 29, 1951. The draft lottery held on July 1, 1970, targeted men born in 1951. The number randomly assigned to his birthday was 111 out of 365. In 1971, number 111 was drafted, the highest number called being 125.

My best guess is that Dennis would have received a notice of induction into the military towards the end of 1971. Obviously there's no reason to assume he is a military member in canon, but at the same time there's no other canon-supported reason to believe that he would have grounds to be excused from the draft in real life, so that's why this AU exists.

Story:

In 1970, the Clarkes of course know that there is a chance that 19-year-old Dennis could be drafted next year. On the first day of July, the family watches and listens to the lottery broadcast as the numbers are called. Dennis is assigned number 111. It is not high enough to keep them from worrying. It's only halfway through 1970, and the previous lottery is still underway; no one yet knows how high "high enough" is, but the numbers climb as the year goes on, and when the previous lottery expires after reaching 195, they can reasonably fear that Dennis's number will be snatched up before the end of the year 1971.

Cue the Clarkes spending a year and a half in anxiety that Dennis will be forced into the military at age 20. He will perhaps be sent to the war in Vietnam and potentially never make it back home, like thousands of soldiers already - perhaps even a few they used to know. They stew over it, but for the sake of Megan in particular they rarely speak of it out in the open. The issue is merely added to the pile of mounting pressure created from the failing factory and, once October comes, Megan's increasingly disturbed behavior and whatever else.

(Note that these details are still open to adjustment, I'm always learning new info.) Early in 1971, Dennis has a pre-induction physical examination, which basically works as a head start to establish that he's eligible to be drafted when/if his number comes up. Bad news for him: he passes, and the military officially classifies him as 1-A, fit for military service if he gets called.

Then there's a point soon after when Anne puts together a letter to the draft board inquiring about the possibility of him getting conscientious objector status, but James makes sure it is never sent. It's not a completely unreasonable fear that the letter would only bring attention to Dennis and potentially get him a draft order sooner or even prevent him from getting completely overlooked if there was any tiny chance of that happening.

In November, Dennis receives an order of induction in the mail. He is given a certain date on which he is required to report and be sworn into the military and then be shipped off to basic training immediately, a date that's probably only a month or less away. It seems Dennis doesn't have a choice, except - there is always a choice, if the nation's many thousands of war resistors, including the ones fleeing to countries out of reach of the U.S. government, have proven anything.

James knows what he wants. It's no secret that he has always hated this war and its politics; he has two young sons, his sons, and they aren't going off to die in Nixon's war on his watch (no he doesn't care that President Nixon didn't start the conflict). In line with his usual m.o. of outwardly ignoring problems and hoping they go away, James insists that they ignore the draft notice, end of story. Maybe the draft board won't follow up on it. If they do, well, he'll take care of it then.

For Anne, it's more complicated. If your country calls, it's a duty to answer, and on a practical level Dennis does not have any other legal options. Of course she doesn't want to see him in a war, and if they had acted earlier he might have had a chance to join the reserves or something, but it's too late for that now, so why prolong the inevitable? The best thing now is to prepare for the worst and hope for the best like everyone did in the wars of her generation and every generation before.

Dennis himself is mostly unsure about what he should do; all over the country there's all sorts of clashing opinions to reckon with and the war is still very confusing, even though lately he couldn't help but tune in to more of the discussions, knowing that it was likely only a matter of time before it all affected him. But one sure thing is that the negative publicity and extensive media coverage of this war leaves no room for heroic fantasies, and it would be nice to not end up numbered in one of the daily casualty reports on the nightly news. So if dad says he doesn't have to go, then... he doesn't want to go. And then, too soon for any of them, the date passes when he was supposed to report, and he didn't go.

So on January 16, 1972, the family is in limbo. They don't know what's going to happen next, and they can't really ask around to find out. Dennis is breaking the law, and if the wrong person finds out he's knowingly ignoring an induction order, they might inform the authorities and who knows what would happen then. The one thing they all know is that Dennis's days with the family are numbered - realistically, it's only a matter of time before the draft board doubles down on the matter. The only options the Clarkes see are for Dennis to join the military, or pack his bags and sneak out of the country.

At the start of February, they are driven to action. It's a Wednesday when Dennis gets a second notice from the draft board with a new induction date; it serves as another chance in case he missed the first order, but it's also a warning if he's been intentionally defying it.

So the Clarkes don't push their luck any further. Dennis has already made his decision to leave the country if it came to that. There's a quick few days of hurried packing and realizing they are thoroughly under-researched and unprepared for what his move to Canada may entail, but that Sunday Dennis's luggage and most of the Clarkes are piled into the family station wagon on the multi-hour trip to Montreal, Quebec. (Only Tanya opted out of the trip, and Dennis will spend the next few years being bitter about that.)

The tension in that car gets stronger and stronger as they approach the border. They've heard tell of so many other draft dodgers escaping to Canada, but were those Americans privy to some insight the Clarkes don't have? They don't know if they will be refused entry if they pick the wrong point of crossing, and they can't even be sure there isn't a chance that Dennis could be arrested on the spot if they give the wrong answers to the wrong questions.

But the crossing is unexpectedly smooth after all. They're visitors, they tell the border official, and they make a quick and quiet entry into Canada.

There isn't much for the Clarkes to do when they reach Montreal. It's a big city, and somewhere there's folks who help people like Dennis, but James and Anne hardly know more than Dennis himself does. "Find the Americans" is the best advice they can give. They have to leave in a few hours; tomorrow is a workday. They find a cheap room for Dennis to stay in and give him some cash, and they promise to help him with the immigration process when the time comes. They can mail him whatever papers he needs. They can mail him any of his possessions if he left something important back home. They can mail letters, and he can write back.

"Call us in the morning," they tell him, and several hours later the Clarkes are down one member on the return trip to Little Hope, while Dennis is left by himself in a hotel room in Montreal with some very dim-looking prospects and no idea what to do next.

--

Aaaand that's the start of the AU. Congratulate yourself if you read this far, and here's the timeline for good measure 🙂

[thelaisydazy]

Mama's Boy - Chapter 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Petra "Mama" Mayfield

Previous Chapter ┊ Next Chapter

It had been three days and Ghost’s side was healing well.

Petra was sitting at the creaky old desk in the clinic, expertly replacing the batteries in her beeping hearing aids, the ringing in her ears drowning out the quieter sounds of the base: the hum of the fluorescent lights, the buzz of the too old AC unit, footsteps.

It was the last one that snuck up on her as the shape of a soldier practically appeared in front of her. She glanced up seeing Roach standing there, quietly looking down at her. He looked concerned at the tiny devices between her fingers. The sergeant gestured with his hands, motions Petra was familiar enough with having learned the unspoken language herself, though they sometimes had difficulties with the differences between the American and British variants.

“They just need batteries,” she answered him, popping the last plastic piece back into place before returning the hearing aids to their usual place, the incessant ringing quieting. “See? All better.”

She watched the quiet Roach smile at her. He was almost boyish compared to the rest of the team, being a few years younger than Petra herself. His face was round and his nose turned up a little at its tip. He had soft brown hair and eyes to match. Out of everyone on the team, he was probably the least affected by their lifestyle. He was easy going, a prankster. Though she suspected he took missions seriously and that he was good at what he did if he ended up with the 141. Best of the best she’d been told when she’d been recruited.

It was lunch time, Roach reminded her. Sweet boy. She gave him a nod.

“Yeah.. guess I should eat something huh?” Petra said, standing.

---

There was no mess hall on this base, it was too small to require one, so the team was left to their own devices for meals. There was a small kitchen in the common area though, nothing fancy but good enough for the handful of soldiers and Petra to make some quick meals, sometimes larger shared meals were cooked, but those were rare.

Petra settled on some leftover takeout she'd gotten a few days prior when she'd heard one of the guys was heading into town. She didn't bother heating it up though, just settled into an empty chair and dug in. It wasn't exactly good cold, but she was just hungry after skipping breakfast and needed to eat more than she needed something that tasted good.

Roach sat nearby, tucked into a microwavable cup of soup. The two ate peacefully for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet of the empty common room.

A light tap on the table turned Petra's head in Roach's direction, the thumb on his other hand lightly tapping his chin, the other fingers splayed and palm open. Mama.

“Yes Roach?” she said, swallowing a mouthful of cold rice. The soldier gestured some more, he was in a talkative mood today. The two continued on like that for a while making small talk between bites of food.

“Hey a few nights ago Price called me to take care of Ghost,” Petra said. “LT said he got hit with some shrapnel. What the hell happened?”

Roach blinked brown eyes at her, confusion in his gaze. His hands explained that, as far as he knew, there hadn't been any missions planned for the past week. Hell, he didn't even know when the next mission would be.

She shouldn't have been too surprised by his answer. It wasn't entirely unlikely that the captain and lieutenant had planned a mission without informing the rest of the team. Knowing Ghost, it wasn't out of the question that he'd gone on that mission solo. Which worried Petra knowing the condition she'd found him in. How had he managed to get back to base on his own in such a state?

A hand waved in front of her face, pulling her away from her thoughts. Roach was concerned, asking what happened. She shook her head.

“Nevermind Gary,” she said. “If you don't know, it's probably for a reason.”

---

The treadmill hummed under her feet as she worked her way from a jog to a run. It had been weeks since she last did any training, not that she usually needed it. Since arriving on base Petra hadn't seen any time on the field, staying mostly confined to the clinic.

The last time she'd stepped foot out on the field, Petra had been deployed with a small team of other soldiers as escort for some civilians. They were meant to take them from a small village that had been bombed to high hell to a refugee camp a few miles away, but not everyone had made it. Enemy soldiers had laid a trap on their route, and they walked right into it.

They hadn't even seen them coming. One moment they were walking alongside a small convoy of vehicles, the next gunfire rained down around them.

Petra had ducked behind one of the vehicles, pulling a young mother and her child down next to one of the stopped tires. She didn't even know if the woman could understand her as she shouted for her to stay low. The medic wasn't meant for combat, but she had still been trained. A medic that couldn't defend themselves or their patients was practically useless in a fight. She'd fired off several rounds that night, not sure if any of them had hit their marks. A pair of hands had gripped her shoulders, almost throwing her into the passenger seat of the truck she'd been ducked behind, the mother and child into the back. A sergeant climbed into the driver seat, speeding them off to safety.

Petra's heart thumped in her chest as her feet pounded harder against the treadmill track. Her lungs burned but she pushed through it, despite the crackling at the edges of her vision as the room tilted.

A pair of arms caught her, lifting her from the machine and placing gently to the gym floor.

“Mama,” a voice said, swimming somewhere in the air around her. Petra shook her head. “Petra!”

She looked up from where she was now seated on the floor, spotting the familiar balaclava wearing man staring down at her. He sighed as he could see her gaze focus on him.

“Where's your bloody head?” Ghost questioned, his gravelly voice harsh. He was bent over with his hands on his knees to look at her, his eyes narrowed at her. “You nearly fell off the damn thing.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” Petra mumbled, feeling a wave of embarrassment come over her. “Got a little lost in my head. Wasn't paying attention…”

Ghost stares at her expectantly. “Lost?” He asked.

“Yeah, it's fine,” she answered. “My mind wandered a little. Thanks for catching me.” She started to stand, aware that it was probably the only time he'd seen her out of uniform. Petra was wearing a black tank top and a pair of gray joggers, her hair pulled back into a curly poof of a ponytail with a pink scrunchie.

She then registered that Ghost had come to the gym only three days after she'd bandaged his side. She opened her mouth to scold him.

“You need to be more careful,” Ghost said gruffly, which gave Petra pause as she just stared up at him. “You're our only medic. We can't afford to have you laid up for a few days.”

Defensiveness curled inside Petra like a snake. “Oh? Coming from the same man that would have bled out if Price hadn’t sent me after you,” She shot back. “You’re going to get on my case for losing focus for half a second, but you can sneak off on a mission no one knows about and nearly get yourself blown up? I don’t think so, Ghost. Not a shot in hell.”

Ghost was quiet as he stood from his crouched position, his jaw clenched under his mask as his eyes bore into the medic. “If you can't handle a run, how did you make it this far as a combat medic?”

“Well if I saw any time off base, maybe you'd have some confidence in my ability on the field,” Petra frowned at him. “But since I arrived here two months ago, you guys have been on how many missions? And I've just been sat here in the clinic.”

Ghost didn’t say anything then, just turned to stalk off to another part of the gym. Petra hooked a finger into the back of one of her running shoes, pulling it off in a smooth motion and chucking it at the lieutenant’s back. He sidestepped just in time for the sneaker to miss him and hit Soap in the chest as the Scot came walking up.

“Aye ya wee hen!” Soap scoffed. “What’d I do?”

---

Petra left the gym shortly after explaining to Soap, perhaps a little too angrily, that she’d been aiming for Ghost who moved out of the way. By now she was heading back to her bunk, needing a shower to clear her head. She was still fuming over Ghost’s assumption that she couldn’t handle fieldwork. She’d handled herself well in the past, well enough that she’d been hand selected to join the 141. Sure, she didn’t have the same combat experience as the rest of the task force, but she was trained to fight when she had to and she had a cool enough head under pressure to treat even serious wounds while under fire.

She could still remember the day she’d met with Kate Laswell, an American Station Chief with the CIA, whom she assumed was a lot scarier than she turned out to be. Though she still had no intentions of finding out what it was like to be on the woman’s bad side.

“Petra Mayfield?” she asked, thumbing a file on her desk. “You go by Mama?”

Petra stood in front of Laswell’s desk, arms behind her back, standing as tall as she could manage with her height. At the time she’d had no idea what she was there for, she had been trying to get her discharge finalized when her CO handed her the summons for this meeting. “Yes ma’am.”

Laswell looked kind, seeming to understand the serious look on the young woman’s face. “I understand you’re looking to be discharged,” she said. “Guess I heard of you at just the right time then.” She paused and motioned to the chair across the desk from herself. “Sit. I just want to talk about a new opportunity for you.”

Petra sat stiffly. Her mind combed over everything she'd ever done in the military, searching for whatever may have earned her a meeting here.

“You’ve been enlisted for the last nine years, started training as a medic right out of basic?” Laswell asked. She had Petra’s file in front of her, no doubt having the answer there.

“Yes ma'am.”

“You were stationed in Ankara, got involved with a few skirmishes,” Laswell continued, looking through the file. “Refugee escort assisting Task Force Stalker. Not many medics jump into combat the way you did. Merrick said you worked well with his team, even if you threatened one of his sargeants.”

“In my defense ma’am, he snuck up on me in a firefight,” Petra said, doing her best to not sound defensive. “When he threw me into the truck I had to assume the worst.”

Kate nodded slowly. “That’s a good instinct to have.” She paused again, closing Petra’s file and folding her hands over the document. “Then there’s the Charleston Parade Bombing. You were there that day, weren’t you?”

Petra’s hands balled into tight fists in her lap at the mention of that bombing. “Yes ma’am,” she said through clenched teeth. “That was before I was even old enough to enlist, I don’t see how it’s relevant to my file.” It shouldn’t have been there. Laswell that dug into her past.

Kate put up a hand. “Relax, I just want to make sure everything I have here is accurate,” she said. “That was twelve years ago, you must’ve been young. You must have been scared.” She was met by silence. “You lost some hearing that day.”

“I lost a lot that day,” Petra said sharply. “What is this about? I was getting my paperwork pushed through to be discharged and head home.”

“You’re direct, that will serve you well,” Laswell said. “There’s a task force across the pond in need of a permanent medic. With your experience with Stalker, along with everything else I’ve read about you, you make an excellent candidate.” Kate leaned back in her chair, staring at Petra, who looked like a deer in the headlights. “It’s need to know. I can’t discuss anything further until I know whether or not you’re in. So, what will it be?”

This wasn’t real. Petra had everything in Ankara packed up and ready to go home after nine long years, and now she was sitting here discussing going right back into the fray with some unknown task force that she knew nothing about. But Kate Laswell was known for scouting the best of the best, Petra didn’t know if she fit that description. But, if she was here now, there was a reason.

“You expect me to just agree to join a team without knowing anything?” Petra asked. “I follow orders, but going in blind like that? That’s asking too much.”

“That’s a no then?” Kate asked, raising her brows.

“I won’t put up with any push back with my.. Impairment,” Petra said, shifting in the chair. “I’ve worked too hard to push past it. If I’m going to show up there and be treated as anything less than capable, then I’m out.” She leaned forward, determination glowing in her eyes. “Now, I want to hear about my new placement.”

Laswell chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re just as headstrong as I heard you were.” She reached into a drawer in her desk and pulled out another file. “You’ll be stationed at a private base near Manchester. I won’t be able to give you an exact location just yet. You’ll be working with Task Force 141, under Captain John Price.” She reached over the desk and handed Petra the file containing just enough information to tell Petra what she was getting into while maintaining the confidentiality of the operation.

The medic pressed her lips together taking in everything. It was a small team at least, five soldiers in total. Although most days were bound to be slower than she was used to, she imagined any injuries she would be treating would be more serious overall. What was she doing? She had been so close to going home, and now she was agreeing to take on something new. “When do I leave?”

Kate Laswell smiled. “I could have you on the next flight if you're ready,” she said. “I’ll have your belongings from Ankara sent over as well.”

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Soldier headcannons

Soldier Headcanons!

————————————————————

I'm going to sob. I had to look up how to spell both words right. How am I supposed to be a writer if I can't write. Anyways, mutual appreciation comment time! Thank you for being mutual and correcting my spelling 😭

————————————————————

I don't write enough for him, so I'm worried but excited to try!

————————————————————

I stand by the fact that this man is the typical American dad, but... he's also such a fucking crazy?

Like one day, he'll be grilling steak in an apron that says "Gold bless America" on the tits, six pack half gone, (it's 10 am) telling you the story of how he went out and killed it with his bare hands only about seven minutes ago. Then, the next day, you'll see him eating half a bag of potting soil and rocks for breakfast. Like???? And he's still in good health, so I guess whatever he's doing is working?

————————————————————

Nearly shit himself when he found the bombpop vodka. Nearly killed himself, mixing it with the bombpop Mt. Dew.

————————————————————

I don't see enough content with Soldier and Pyro, which is sad because, like, they're both sweet and would totally be friends.

Let's be honest, Soldier would sit and tell Pyro every piece of American history he knows, and Pyro would sit and listen. Dare I say Pyro might even enjoy listening about the history of America.

But I do think that Pyro and Soldiers friendship is different from Engie and Pyros' friendship. Pyro and Soldier are like brothers. Engie and Pyro are like father and child.

I think Engie keeps Soldier in line, too. I think them as a group would be really cute.

(Also, I think him and Scout have a father and son bond. Please it would be so sweet.)

————————————————————

Speaking of history! He has one of those tables where you can reenact a war with like plastic tanks and mini figures. (I can't for the life of me remember what it's called.) He's memorized every war, every move, every anything. Tell him a specific date, and he can set it up to match what happened that day perfectly.

————————————————————

While this man does act goofy and al aot playfully criminally insane. I do think he has very real issues. He is super on edge most of the time. He can't deal with sudden loud noise without a warning. He's protective over anyone and everyone. (He would take a bullet for any of his teammates).

I don't know if I'd say he has PTSD but something happened to him, and the whole loud, proud American man! Is a persona, a way to cope and find a distraction from the bad times.

————————————————————

You'd think for a man who's so pro America he'd be unaware of the world around him, but you'd be wrong. This man loves other countries too, it's just happens to be the U.S., which is his everything.

He knows about the culture and life in other countries because he learned about them after he met Medic, Heavy, Spy, and Demo. He wanted to get to know them and understand their country because he just assumed everyone was as proud of their home as he was, so he wanted to be able to talk about it with them in the same way he talks about America.

————————————————————

I think he reads Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters books. I can't really explain why? I just get the vibe that he likes them.

————————————————————

Fourth of July is obviously his favorite holiday. But considering half the base isn't American and the other half isn't too keen on celebrating, he always thinks he's going to have to celebrate alone. But NOPE. You bet your ass the Mercs celebrate with him.

He loves his teammates, and they love him.

————————————————————

Love marine biology! A huge fan of sharks and whales. Cried when he found out about whale sharks.

"ITS JUST SO BEAUTIFUL! THE BEST OF EVERYHTING!"

His favorite sharks are hammer heads, and his favorite whale is a beluga whale.

————————————————————

I don't care if he has a set home state in canon. THIS MAN IS FLORIDA CODED!

He's wrestled an alligator and fucking won!

One time, the team took a vacation to Florida. I imagine this happening with him and Scout. Like vividly.

————————————————————

Okay so that was really fun! I hope you liked this because I was super worried halfway through that they weren't going to be good 😭

I think he's actually a really neat character, I'm glad I got to write for him!

————————————————————

[lizlives]

This is going to be a very different kind of thing than I usually do, but randomly I've been thinking about how much Dreadnought (from the Nemesis book series) would be a good opponent for a death battle style matchup against Homelander. Unlike Omni-Man or Superman, she's not clearly stronger while still having some things that could potentially be a boon for her such as her lattice ability. Anyways, I randomly decided that I would use their respective r/respect threads on reddit and try and construct evidence based research on who I think would win in a fight. Here is what I've put together! The opening introductions are sampled directly from the original respect threads so credit to them, the rest is written by me. Also, I'm going by the Amazon version of Homelander for this obviously.

“I see a world that is terrified of me. Terrified of someone who would reject manhood. Terrified of a girl who knows who she is and what she’s capable of. They are small, and they are weak, and they will not hurt me ever again. My name is Danielle Tozer. I am a girl. No one is strong enough to take that from me anymore.”

Danielle "Danny" Tozer led a miserable life as a closeted transgender teenage girl in an abusive household. That is, until one day she witnessed the world-renowned hero Dreadnought suffer a fatal attack from a supervillain. With only moments to live and knowing that the world needed his powers, Dreadnought bestowed his powers unto Danielle, granting her not only his superhuman abilities and senses, but also, as a side effect, molding her body into it's ideal form. Reborn, Danielle must learn to accept the weight of the responsibility of not only being the fourth incarnation of Dreadnaught, the attention of being the most publicly visible transgender superhero, but also the challenges involving the presence of the Nemesis and its effect on the world.

"I don't make mistakes. I'm not "just like the rest of you." I'm stronger. I'm smarter. I'm better. I am better. I'm not some weak-kneed fucking crybaby that goes around fucking apologizing all the time. And why the fuck would you want me to be? All my life, people have tried to control me. My whole life. Rich people, powerful people have tried to muzzle me, cancel me, keep me impotent and obedient, like I'm a fucking puppet. You know what? It worked. Because I allowed it to work. And guess what. If they can control me, then you can bet your ass they can control you. They already do. You just don't realize it. I'm done. I am done apologizing. I am done being persecuted for my strength. You people should be thanking Christ that I am who and what I am, because you need me. You need me to save you. You do. I am the only one who possibly can. You're not the real heroes. I'm the real hero. I'm the real hero."

Homelander is the home grown All-American Hero represented by the Vought American Corporation. He is the leader of the Seven and considered the most powerful Supe on Earth. He's the result of a refined compound V fetus that became Vought's first successful superhero. He represents nothing more than deceit, profit and the Vought American Way!

Striking strength: Dreadnought has more control of her strength than Homelander it seems, able to move her strength up and down depending on how careful she wants to be. Homelander more frequently aims to disembowel his enemies with gut punches and does so with general ease, while Danny frequently aims to break bones and does so with relative ease. At near max power she's ripping into heavily armored war machines and flying through box cars strong enough to rip them completely apart. Most of Homelander's striking strength achievements amount to either trading blows with people of near power to him such as Soldier Boy, Black Noir and Butcher on temp-v, or immediately killing and disemboweling regular humans, usually killing them instantly. The only other notable strength achievement he has is listed as "damaging" a concrete wall, a metal fuel container, then a larger metal fuel container, but this doesn't seem like much compared to Danny's ability to rip into reinforced metal, albeit sometimes with some effort, and with much greater control and handling. For this, I give the win to Dreadnought.

Lifting/Throwing: Notably, Danny is able to save a plane with some effort only a few days after getting her powers, though the plane nearly falls apart in the process. The end result was minimal casualties. Homelander is faced with a near identical situation and doesn't even try to save it, likely due to fear of optics and damage to his brand from survivors, but potentially suggesting a lack of genuine ability. Danny has claimed she can bench press a school bus and Homelander seems to be able to escape after being crushed by one, making it kinda a draw in that particular case. Most of the rest of Homelander's achievements amount to being able to throw small objects long distances and being able to lift other people of a similar power level off of him. Meanwhile Danny is able to redirect and lift satellites, jets, train cars, and mechs with a great deal of effort depending. For this, I give the win to Dreadnought.

Blunt Force Durability: Most feats Homelander has shown show him able to withstand a great deal of damage from similar opponents. Danny has had her bones broken by opponents at least as strong as her if not stronger but not completely folded. She takes hits from Red Steel a super on par with her in strength. Sense we've already established she's at least a bit more strong than Homelander at least in terms of her striking ability, I'd say that gives her at least a slight edge in durability? It's a bit hard to say, Homelander rarely ever shows any sort of affect or damage from his fights, but Danny does, and yet she's still able to generally to take most of it to a seemingly greater degree than he does? It really comes down to which you think is better. A person facing smaller threats and barely flinching, or a person facing bigger threats and flinching but not completely folding. It's a bit weird, but my intuition is for Danny due to facing stronger opponents and more regularly.

Piercing Durability: Both seemingly can survive point blank bullets with minimal feeling. Homelander specifically seems to have no feeling at all when faced with bullet damage, while Danny mentions feeling some discomfort, albeit minimal. A person did attempt to slice her neck at but this effort failed, however her ability to withstand piercing is tied to her lattice ability, meaning she can switch it off. This could be a slight advantage to Homelander given he seems to be incapable of receiving any damage regardless. For both of these reasons, I give the edge to Homelander.

Heat Durability: Danny is able to withstand beam sabers with some blistering afterwards, ignores flamethrowers, and endures atmospheric re-entry with some admitted risk. Homelander has taken Butcher's heat blasts and gotten up, was early on able to survive putting his hand in fire, and also was caught in a gas explosion that he escaped unharmed. Dreadnought is able to withstand heat damage with minimal damage while Homelander seems to be unharmed by any heat. Homelander wins this one.

Speed: Lots of specific numbers, but just based on what we've seen them do, either based on the compared speed of known jets or based on directly stated speed, both are capable of breaking the speed of sound, but Danny seems to just have higher speed numbers in general. She's also theoretically able to fly faster in areas with less wind-resistance. Also worth noting, she has dodged multiple laser beams in the past, only getting tagged a few times in the process, meaning dodging Homelander's single heat blasts might not be much of a problem for her. For this, Danny gets the upper hand I think.

Other: The lattice ability possessed by Danny seems to be much more advanced than Homelander's x-ray vision, able to see down to molecules, not to mention able to influence them at that level.

Conclusion: Homelander's main advantage in this fight might be his laser vision. Danny has been shown to be impacted by concentrated heat and some mild impact from piercing. Besides that she takes blunt force trauma decently well given her opponents and seems much stronger and faster than him overall. I would say this would be one of the most difficult fights of her life, but I think she would make it out on top due to the edge her lattice ability gives her with healing and molecular manipulation. If cornered, and this would absolutely be a desperate move, it might be theoretically possible to give him brain damage, as she was able to untangle one consciousness in someone's mind from another. That suggest some sort of ability to manipulate minds, if only to unravel them.

Also worth noting, there's a small precedent for Compound V still leaving someone's interior weak to damage (i.e. Translucent) but at one point Danny drinks enough cesium and strychnine to “light her up like Chernobyl”, and remains unaffected by it, suggesting her body is more densely protected while technically having weaknessess Homelander's less dense defense doesn't.

Ultimately, I would also say just her attitude makes her a strong contender. She regularly deals with opponents who are similarly obsessive and intimidating much like Homelander and are at least as strong as her and she seems generally unphased by them, only responding with more energy alot of the time. Homelander is going to rely on intimidation to an extent, something Danny is familar with. Not to mention, once she realizes he doesn't measure up to her in some key ways, this intimidation will work even less, thus giving her a psychological edge. Her bravado has a decent chance of throwing him off, especially the longer the fight goes on. Homelander being emotionally volatile makes him, well, more volatile, but it also makes him unbalanced and sloppy, something Danny could theoretically take advantage of. She has demonstrated in the past being able to make smart calculative decisions even when under immense pressure. Able to muster up the mental fortitude to heal a golf ball sized hole through her whole torso despite not being able to breath and struggling to retain consciousness. The same could not be said for Homelander, who is extremely easy to undermine emotionally if faced with any sort of genuine threat, even partially. For me, I say the winner is Dreadnought.

Overall, I would just really love to see what kind of verbal sparring these two would have. Righteous anger vs childish rage. Spirited passion vs insecure posturing. It would be so interesting just to see them interact. Also, read the Nemesis books! They're really good!

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 15 thoughts

i'm back! i was got halfway through the episode yesterday when a storm knocked the power and the internet off so i was sadly unable to finish the ep OR post my thoughts :( but i finished it now!!!

so this episode was about "voodoo" and you have maybe been able to tell from my previous posts, but i love studying religions and belief systems. so honestly i was pretty frightened this episode was going to be all "ahhh look how scary this belief we don't understand is!" and like. haitian vodou has been one of THE biggest victims of this line of thinking. so i was pleased that the real villain of the episode was a white man abusing his power.

and yes, they did make vodou seem ~spooky~ but: i'm pleased the bad guy was a real bad dude and not a caricature of what americans think a scary evil priest would look like.

so let's jump in!

we start the episode with hearing a baby crying. which is never a good way to begin, as far as i am concerned. just not for me.

it's a wife and a husband and this husband seems evil. he snaps at his wife and from his first line i was torn between "this man is genuinely an abusive monster" or "this man is being brainwashed" and thankfully it was the brainwashing route

he screams at his wife and child until the both cry and then he sees his breakfast turn to worms.

worms for breakfast... might sound wild to you, but for a bird, that's just an ordinary day.

he then gets in his car and crashes into a tree and we see some sort of sign on the tree he crashes into....... and this is the SECOND fellow that has died working at this refugee camp....

roadtrip with our agents to north carolina!!!!

(i made a post when i was like halfway through s1 about all the roadtrips these 2 go on and how they allowed them to get to know each other, and a few people were like "um they take planes?", but my POINT ON THE BONDING STANDS and also here is evidence of a REAL road trip)

they step out and both of their trench coats are billowing in the wind. a beautiful sight.

we're learning about what has been going on at this refugee camp they are visiting, where the soldiers have been dropping like flies... they mention that there was a riot recently, and a little boy killed, and i'm thinking, maybe that kind of trauma can lead a person to crash a car or harm themselves? i realize i sound like scully as i type that!!! a real skeptic!!! but it seems plausible.

they visit the home of the new widow and she's like "well that symbol on the tree was ALSO there when the first guy died... and get this... it was on this shell my baby found!" which led to my (joking) theory that it was the baby that was doing the killing... baby witchcraft is likely super effective, compounded by their innocence to create a super critical hit... alas, this theory had no backing

but evil babies aside, she's really freaked out because her late husband's friend grew up in new orleans and says that this is the type of voodoo he saw down there, so... interesting

they go into the refugee camp to ask around, and someone grabs scully, when a boy intervenes and tells the dude who grabbed her to get lost in french and i was SO proud because i knew what he was saying... like yeah i guess my duolingo IS paying off...

(all he said was "vas-tu" but hey! i was still proud)

the child then tries to smooth talk them into buying a good luck charm and mulder buys it which had me LAUGHING... like truly he sees a child and he will support them financially.

(i thought perhaps that the good luck charm would open up and be the symbol we earlier associated with destruction and make them a target but i was wrong!!! it just was a genuine ward against evil. thank u little boy named chester)

one of the military men says that "voodoo caused a riot" and as far as riot causes go i think that is not in the top 10 most common... i'm willing to guess that perhaps it is the awful treatment people in a refugee camp receive... but sure. blame a belief system! (/s)

scully goes to look at the body of the first man that died and JUMPSCARE! his body has been replaced in the morgue with some kind of dog? it looked like a hyena to me, which raised the question: where do you source a hyena in north carolina? no answers were provided

our agents visit the man who is blamed for starting the riot- who is named bauvais, what a wonderful name that is- and he says that the symbol they found was that of the loco-miroir, a crossroads between two worlds that shows the true self. so i'm thinking, perhaps if that is the case, these men that died were being tormented because of the awful things they did to the refugees?

he also describes the dog creature in the morgue as "a warning" which hm. i mean. could be.

scully is doing some driving now, which i noted because it was unusual, and she almost hits someone! (is this why she doesn't normally drive?)

i jest, of course, because who is in the road but... the dude who we earlier saw crash into a tree? the dude whose wife and baby we visited who were mourning his loss? this man? so... he isn't dead?? this part of my notes had many question marks

i guess i assumed that they... you know... had triple checked that he was really dead...

they check his blood and there is some poison in there that scully says is in pufferfish, which are eaten in japan, and i'm like queen i love you so bad, i love that you can look at a chemical and know what fish it comes from, and where in the world they eat that fish....... truly my most beloved

it appears that this man who is newly back from the dead/never dead at all was in a zombie-like state. and mulder is going on about how there are rumors of haitian zombies- which i had heard before, but don't recall anything about- and he is basically being a Nerd

(they're both nerds. i love people who know random Stuff. it's actually a one-way ticket to my heart. no lie!)

((but as for the accuracy of their belief system, i have a feeling it is truly more complex than just the western notion of zombies- i never got to dive into african and diaspora religions in class, so fact-checking this episode is an excellent excuse for me to jump down a rabbit hole))

okay so new proposed theory: take the pufferfish poison... fake a death... but why?

they visit the graveyard to go and find the body of the first man who passed away- but a fellow who watches the graveyard notes that the body snatchers got there first. THE BODY SNATCHERS? did we skip a few centuries back? he says "the voodoo types are buying" which. um. okay.

he ends this by calling the theft of remains "uncool" and for sure. i'd have to agree with that assessment.

but in the distance we see the little boy from earlier- chester- digging about! could HE be the body snatcher? well, mulder is gonna find out!

they chase him down only to find he has a bag of a ton of frogs LMAOOO they had to get those paid frog actors from the last episode in again somehow

so they bring this child- who i think has sadly lost all of his frogs at this point- back to get some food, and this is where i lost all power and was forced to wait a whole day to learned what happened next!

but i picked up here today. this episode was giving me flashbacks to the episode eve from s1. because these two are gonna find a youth and get them a meal. and i appreciate that about them.

anyway, he says he just sneaks out and back into the camp somehow. chester says he sells frogs to bauvais. we love a little guy who is always hustling.

he ate all of his food and mulder gives him more money to go get some more and it is soooo funny to me how mulder interacts with children. it's actually deeply sweet. he is gonna make some random kid on his case smile no matter what.

(oh man. this is the type of guy who is gonna be all "come on, sport, let's go toss the ball around", huh? if he weren't too busy going about chasing aliens and almost dying, i'd say that man would make a decent father)

scully's still in logic mode, saying maybe it was the frogs who made the poison. and yeah, some frogs do in fact make poison, but i'm not sure if north carolina is where you're gonna find em. but i guess there are evil creatures in the south like pythons and black widows so we can't rule it out?

mulder leaves scully in charge of watching chester while he go sees who has been following him. a very perceptive guy. sometimes.

oh!!! it's a fellow we've seen before!! he's a private, and he was friends with the deceased, and he was the one who told the now widow about the voodoo rituals he grew up with. and he refuses to talk with chester around so they have him wait in the car

now, we have dealt with evil children on this show before, but this little dude is not giving evil vibes to me. i find him endearing. which perhaps is what the writers WANT me to think... but no. turns out he was just a nice little dude lmao.

so the private who grew up in louisiana and is now stalking the agents explains that bauvais promised the colonel who is watching over the camp that his men would drop one by one unless they are returned to haiti. he also mentioned that colonel increased "the beatings"

HUH????? he increased them? as in there were some going on before, and now there are more????

scully asks why no one has filed a complaint, and he says "none of us feel good about it, ma'am, but we don't join the marines to feel good" okay but that isn't an answer... like you know that isn't an answer... right??

he's going on about a woman back home dying before her wedding night and the doctors finding snakes in her stomach and scully is like well that sounds fake as hell. and he counters with NUH-UH IT WAS MY FIANCE. ooooh scully was gagged. like what do you even say to that. (zuko voice) "that's rough, buddy"

NOOOO chester broke free from the car.... this is always a risk when leaving children to their own devices. it does make him seem more suspicious, and i was ROOTING for him!!! mulder chases him down because remember, mulder is a track star

and then i think, is this the scene where he sees a cat that has crossed my dash before? yes, it is! a meowing is heard as soon as i wrote those words in my notes. so my hypothesis is that the boy turned into the cat. because he said he gets in and out of the camp as he pleases! and what creature could do that with greater ease than a cat?

(by the end of this episode, my theory is challenged. but it's still nice to imagine)

the colonel is being a man baby... who is shocked? it sure isn't me!!! he's furious to hear about the body being gone, and says "what kind of barbaric religion would desecrate a grave?" to which i gesture vaguely to all cases of a body being moved after being buried, which we usually understand as the work of individuals and not place the blame on entire belief systems... but i got the subtext. he's a bigot.

scully asks him about the beating allegations and he says no way, if anyone is being beaten its actually my men. and then they leave him to eat his breakfast. they clearly do not believe what he had to say

at this point i had flashbacks to the first breakfast scene we saw, and thought that it was going to turn into bugs- but it didn't! instead his food started BLEEDING. gross

so they're going back in the car to go to the motel and scully turns the key and something cuts her hand?!? it looked at first like barbed wire, but then we see it's some kind of thorny branch. conspicuously placed in their vehicle!

"let me see that", says mulder, to whom she replies "oh it's nothing", and he looks visibly annoyed at not being allowed to investigate her little hand cut. let him doctor you sometimes, scully, he needs to feel useful. also you're gonna get blood on the wheel!!!!

at this point i'm freaking out, because what kind of plant was that?! what if it's poison? what if it's the poison that is also in pufferfish and frogs and makes you see stuff?

they speed off and we see... their car had the mark beneath it!!! the mark from earlier which is associated with destruction!!!!!!

cutscene to the colonel beating bauvais. no one is shocked. but it is still a sad sight. he's asking him how he does the magic.

mulder opens the door to his room and a ten of diamonds falls out. he seems to know what this means, even though i do not, and goes to route 10, where he meets...?

DEEP THROAT 2.0?? in north carolina??? mulder says he thought their last meeting would have been their final- remember, when he told mulder to stop chasing down the people involved with scully's kidnapping, and then shot a guy right in front of him, then came back to say the bad guys were gonna search his house- remember that? seemed pretty final to me as well. but clearly not

he says that their search is faltering, and that in 24 hours everyone but the military will be denied access to the camp. mulder is pissed, and is asking why the refugees are being held up, and why are they being beaten, and he says that "those people are innocent civilians, some people in congress might have a problem with that". deep throat 2.0 points out that by the time congress makes an investigation committee, their tracks will be covered, which rings true. but damn, mulder believing- or wanting to believe- that the government will helps people says so much about his character.

so basically deep throat 2.0 shows up to antagonize him for not being on the right track and then leaves. much like deep throat 1.0.

we see scully back at the motel, and her hand is covered in spots and blood, and i wrote a "NOOOOOOO" in my notes because i was distressed!!!!

she knocks on what she thinks is mulder's door- it's door 7, i thought he was in 10?- and the door is unlocked, so she just walks in. but she hears water running, like a shower/bath, so she just talks to mulder through the door LMAOOOO i thought that was so sweet. very married behavior. talking to the husband (platonic or romantic or a secret third thing) while he showers. the private they spoke to went AWOL! isn't that interesting, mulder?

mulder...? there's bloody water pouring in beneath the door?

she busts it open, probably thinking the worst, and it's the louisiana private from before laying dead in the bathtub while water runs. which is definitely not a great thing, but at least it wasn't mulder dying in there. who, conveniently, makes an entrance, holding our first zombie man at gunpoint!!! and zombie man was holding a dagger!!! things are not looking good for him!!!

they take him in for questioning but honestly i was still worried about her hand at this point. like is anyone gonna tend to it.

we learn that... BAUVAIS IS DEAD? allegedly at his own hand. but given that we saw the colonel beating him... let's just say i do not believe it

scully's grasping her forehead, and mulder is asking what's wrong, and she's saying "i'm fine, it's just a headache", and here i made a note to psychoanalyze the fact that the doctor is unwilling to doctor herself. and i WILL have lots to say on that at a later date.

so the newly-dead-in-the-bathtub private gave his friend's wife something to give to the agents if anything happened to him. and they open it up, and it's a photo of the colonel WITH bauvais. so clearly they knew each other. but how? it really isn't answered tbh

they sneak into his office. nice. and they find CHICKEN FEET in his drawers, on top of papers from the dead privates, who had filed complaints against him. so they DID try to make things right and not just blindly follow orders like the one dude implied!

and then mulder opens a chest, and he holds up some dog tags...

but freeze! a soldier tries to stop them. he only gives up when they show that the dog tags belong to the dead privates, and that the BONES of the very first man are sitting in the chest. BONES??? i did not see that one coming. he KEPT THEM??? and he tried to play it off like someone else did it??? oh colonel you are a sick and twisted individual

and now the colonel is back at bauvais' grave, digging it up, chanting haitian creole and holding a knife. um. not great.

the agents roll up to the scene and scully is hiding her face. "what is it, scully?" he asks; she deflects with an "i'm alright". he astutely responds with a "you don't look alright", at which point i am cheering because YEAHHHH WHUMP NATION. HERE WE ARE!!!! MAKE SOME NOISE!!!!

(i mean, it's bad timing, with a wild colonel they need to go catch, but still. when you get a trope you like, you hold it dear. she tells him to go get the colonel and she'll stay in the car)

i thought that perhaps she was hiding her face because she was seeing things, and then she starts... coughing up blood?? and i'm horrified and wondering if this is real or another trick of the poison, and then her hand starts pouring water and a whole dude comes out of it, at which case i realize we are in hallucination town

and back in the graveyard, the colonel is speaking creole in a demon voice, and he moves his hand and mulder is like... stabbed?? or something??? maybe not with a knife but like psychically? he's down for the count

back to scully cam, the man who had emerged from her hand is speaking in a demon creole as well, so she grabs the good luck charm from chester and BAM! everything clears. shoutout to chester for being a real one. i noted that i knew he was a cat, and just as i typed that, a black kitty showed up on top of the car!!!!!!!!

so, now free from the clutches of evil, she runs out to get mulder, who has been lying in the graveyard.

and the FIRST THING this man says is "you're okay?"

AHHHHHH (inconsolable screaming for a really long time)

mulder, who was laying in a graveyard face down with either a real or a psychic stab wound, and after having witnessed some demon fuckery- immediately his mind goes to making sure that she was okay. oh that terrible, terrible need to protect kicking in, as natural and as undeniable to him as breathing. these two are so intertwined it's sickening. aughhhh i am tearing up typing this. what have they turned me into....

so it appears colonel wharton has been killed by the spirit of bauvais, at least according to what the viewer sees and also mulder's report, so cosmic revenge has been served. scully didn't see all this go down, however, so she just sees him in his coffin and is like ???? but again mulder was face down in the dirt so. she's probably thinking, well, who knows what actually happened

but, direct action worked: the refugees are now being repatriated! the agents ask to see the list of people who are returning and are confused because chester isn't on there. and the soldier says, oh right, that poor boy, he died in the riot a while back

HUH??????? he wasn't really there the whole time? he was a benevolent spirit who ate the french fries they bought him and maybe appeared as a cat???

i love that for him. and i'm also deeply sad to learn that he was dead the whole time. but i'm happy that he is getting to spend the afterlife hustling people and digging for frogs.

(of course, that is, if you believe the mulder sort of theory..... now, if you're scully, you're probably thinking, huh, weird that little boy lied about his name... but then again, after her paranormal nurse experience, i'm not sure she's entirely convinced that positive spirits aren't out and about. there has to be a tiiiiny part of her that holds out hope, even if it's scary)

so, the episode ends with the guy who earlier proclaimed body snatching uncool burying the colonel. and we see that- surprise- he wasn't actually dead! he was somehow also put into a zombie-like state, and is screaming as he is buried alive. ah, justice has been delivered.

overall, i liked this episode! the approach towards handling haitian vodou could definitely have been better and less exoticised, but frankly i was expecting a lot worse. i thought it was an interesting premise, i liked little chester, and there are some ambiguities- like, how did the colonel know bauvais? what put them in the zombie state? was it poison from the thorns that caused the hallucinations? if so, why would the good luck charm clear it? but they were ambiguous enough to just leave me feeling curious, rather than entirely stumped like the last episode did. because i'm still trying to put the pieces in place with that one. i was really thinking it over in the shower today.

anyway, loved their interactions this episode- loved worried mulder, loved trying to play it cool and strong scully, loved her thinking it was his room and waltzing in and reporting while he showered, loved freshly stabbed man asking if she was okay, loved mulder meeting another child and saying i'm gonna make this kid smile, loved him looking pissed when she wouldn't show him the cut on her hand, loved a corrupt military official being buried alive. a lot to enjoy here.

[pickledpascal]

Killer Queen

Chapter Three: Sweet Emotion

Warnings: smut for sure brother, penetrative sex, collars, BDSM elements, slurs, ben likes it rough i guess

Word Count: 3.8k

Killer Queen Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Eventually, Eden was able to coax Amber and Soldier Boy out of their room to have something for dinner. Well, she mostly wanted to get Amber to eat, Soldier Boy was… a change, that's for sure. Something about him when Eden was in school or, hell, even when she grew up, she thought he'd be shorter. The boots had to give him an extra inch or two so they lied about his height. But they didn't. Soldier Boy was a six-foot-two all-American man. Eden always thought he'd be five-eight. 

Amber grabbed a few slices of the pizza Eden provided and stuffed a piece in her mouth. On the other hand, Eden kept staring at Soldier Boy. Nervous wasn't the right word, no, more like she was sizing him up. She knew she likely couldn't take him in a fight, even if she was a Supe, but she would probably be able to do something that made him suffer. 

“Who's that?” Ryan said when he came out of his room. He was looking up at Soldier Boy. Butcher was one of the only other men who had ever entered the house.

Soldier Boy glanced down at the kid and narrowed his eyes a bit. Why the hell did he look so much like him? He kept his mouth shut, opting to follow Amber's rules. For now. So he ate. 

Eden answered, “He's gonna be staying with us for a little while, kiddo. He's, uh,” She didn't want to lie. Ryan was a smart kid and he'd likely figure out why he was here in the long run but she also didn't want to say Soldier Boy was going to kill his dad. “He's one of Amber's special friends.” 

“Oh.” Ryan recoiled at the comment. 

Soldier Boy cocked an eyebrow at Amber. “He doesn't know what a f–”

“Shut the hell up.” Amber cut him off, gaze hardening. 

Once dinner was done and Ryan was away from Soldier Boy—Eden immediately decided they couldn't be together for more than fifteen minutes since Ryan would likely learn something he wasn't supposed to at ten. 

“So who the fuck are you?” Soldier Boy turned to Eden, lips pursed into a thin line that showed his dimples. A sign he was discontented. 

Eden looked at him unimpressed. “The smartest person in any room.” She shrugged. She liked to brag as humbly as possible. She wished Amber would do it more or else people wouldn't test her as much as they did. 

Soldier Boy scoffed, “You're a woman.” 

“And you don't know what an OnlyFans is so who's really winning here?” Eden countered with a lop-sided smile.

Soldier Boy tilted his head, glancing at Amber for an answer. She didn't give him one. 

“Do you think if we can get Homelander, Butcher will let us psychologically torture him? We’ll let him kill him afterward. Or, we could all bitch him together.” Eden suggested, an excited glint in her eyes before she glanced back at Soldier Boy. “Sorry your son turned into such a fucking bitch, by the way–”

Soldier Boy’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what the fuck does she mean?” He'd seen pictures of Homelander, pictures of him were plastered almost everywhere.

Amber glared at Eden. She was glad Ryan wasn't here for this. Especially considering his grandpa had quite the mouth on him. 

She and Eden knew of this after Eden hacked into Vought. Partly for fun, partly for work. They just so happened to come across a file about Homelander and his origins. And how Soldier Boy, by artificial insemination, was his father. Immediately after finding out the information, Eden blamed that on why Homelander was so horrible. Amber didn't know all of the details of Soldier Boy’s life but she didn't think that was the case. The file also included all the American propaganda Homelander was forced to watch as a child. 

A boy who grew up only watching American propaganda was going to fuck him up somehow. 

“You remember when Vougelbaum called you into your lab? It was 1980. Some sort of genetic test,” Recognition dawned in Soldier Boy’s face as he leaned back into the couch he sat on. “He was born in 1981. And part of the reason Payback did what they did. So he could take the spotlight once he was older.” Amber explained softly. She had a feeling it would be jarring for anyone to find out they had a secret child, no matter if they were a fascist piece of shit. 

Soldier Boy’s lips drew back into a snarl as he tried to choke down his emotions. Amber, he was fine with crying in front of, but Eden? Fuck that. He didn't need other people to know he was weak. 

He had a son. A fucking child. And he wasn't there like he wished he would. Anger rose in his chest. Soldier Boy abruptly stood and Amber could feel the air in the room shifting. She didn't have a radiation counter on her but she could tell, if she did, it would be skyrocketing. 

Amber lifted a hand to try and calm Soldier Boy which he slapped away. “Shut the fuck up and don't say you understand. You fucking don't. You don't even have the fucking parts to have a kid, you tranny bitch.” He spat, chest heaving. 

Eden's eyes widened, looking between the two of them. Even most bigot fucks Amber came across, they didn't say it to her face. Amber's stare turned cold. Any sympathy she had for him was flushed down the drain. 

“Yeah, uh… I'm gonna take Ryan downstairs.” Eden excused herself. The basement was soundproof for the most part. And built like a fortress. She was glad she decided to make it out of metal. Sound didn't travel that well through it. 

Soldier Boy let out a sharp breath from his nose as he stared at Amber. There was a small part of him that regretted what he said but he was too prideful to go back on it. A muscle in his jaw tightened while his nose turned into a sneer. 

Amber wasn't intimidated by whatever tactics Soldier Boy was trying to use. “You think you're strong? That you scare me? Not more than an hour ago you were gagging on my dick. Some small part—or, hell, big part—of you is scared you like me,” The air in the room was tense, the radiation rising when she hit a little too close to home. “But another part,” She stepped closer, causing Soldier Boy to step away. “Is excited by that. You're not the most powerful in the room anymore. Maybe that way you'll be a little normal for once.” 

“Fuck you, you don't know shit about me.” Soldier Boy’s shoulders were rigid as he tried to stand his ground. 

Amber cocked a doubtful eyebrow at him, a smirk on her lips. “Uh-huh. I know for the past few seconds, your eyes have been on my dick,” Soldier Boy’s lip quivered with his anger but he made no move to deny it. “What Eden failed to mention is that Ryan is your grandson.”

Blinking, Soldier Boy's shoulders slumped. His jaw unclenched as he drew in a sharp breath. “He's—”

“Homelander’s son. The reason why he's here. Homelander wants to make Ryan like him,” Amber explained softly. Maybe she did have a little bit of sympathy for Ben. A shred. But it could easily be snuffed out and replaced with that white-hot feeling from earlier. “This could be your chance to be a father like you wanted. And, maybe, he could be better. Not like you or him.”

Soldier Boy dropped onto the couch, frame creaking underneath his weight. His whole world was shattered and put back together again in a matter of a few minutes. How could he have failed Homelander so badly? Hell, he would've let him take the spotlight. What kind of father wouldn't? He bit his cheek. Ryan wasn't his and he never would be. Sure, they were related but it was different. He'd know it would be different. 

But Ryan was so young. A whole life ahead of him. Soldier Boy pushed his hands through his hair, tears stung the edges of his eyes. He wanted kids. For selfish reasons. As a big fuck you to his father that he could do better than him. 

“Does he know?” Soldier Boy looked up at Amber, hands falling in his lap.

Amber shook her head. “No. I mean, Ryan knows who his father is. Not that you're his grandpa. And Homelander, as far as I know, doesn't know about you.” She sat next to him. 

“God fucking hell.” Soldier Boy sighed. Why did this feel a hell of a lot more messed up than anything he'd ever done before? He'd be stealing his son’s son away from him. Perhaps for good reason. “You–You’re—” A part of him really wanted to yell at Amber, accuse her of turning him against his own kin, but he had a feeling Homelander committed far worse atrocities than he did. At an even larger scale. 

Soldier Boy ran a hand down his face. “Ryan—he’s a good kid?” He asked after a while. 

“Yeah,” Amber hummed softly. Besides a few times of him slicing open the roof with his laser eyes or hugging Eden a little too tight, it was sunshine and rainbows. Eden was durable enough not to get immediately crushed. “I think he looks a lot more like you than Homelander anyway. Especially with that fucking box-dye. I mean, if you're gonna be the epitome of ‘blonde and blue-eyed,’ at least make sure it looks good before you base your entire personality on it.” 

Soldier Boy let out a small breath. A laugh. Even though he didn't understand half the words that came out of Amber's mouth, he knew the point she was trying to make. Homelander was an artificial fuck. Quite literally. He and Homelander's surrogate never even touched, he just sent his seed to Vougelbaum and never thought about it again. Whoever she was, they would've had a good night if they did it the proper way. Or Soldier Boy would've broken her. 

Amber hooked a finger under Soldier Boy's chin and tilted his head so he looked at her. “You remember that deal we made?” Her eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes. Soldier Boy’s breath hitched. “You called me something bad. Which means…” She intentionally trailed off. 

“Consequences.” Soldier Boy finished for her with dilated pupils. 

Amber winked, “Bingo.” 

After a scramble to get upstairs, Amber's door was locked behind her while she and Soldier Boy were inside her bedroom. He breathed heavily while she appeared calm. Way too calm. It was unsettling. Something about it made Soldier Boy’s pulse hasten. With dread or something else, he wasn't sure he'd want to admit.

“Turn around and strip.” Amber instructed with a smile. 

Soldier Boy wanted to ask why he'd need to turn around but the words were caught in his throat. He complied, taking off his Dodgers jersey and sweatpants along with his boxers. He heard a scraping of a drawer opening and closing. And then a light ding of a bell. He flinched as he felt his neck constricted. Soldier Boy glanced down and caught sight of the small jingle bell on his neck. Connected to a leather collar. 

Avery pressed a kiss to Ben's jaw and hummed as she stood behind him. “On the bed for me, hands and knees.” The way she sounded, it was more of a request. But he knew if he didn't comply, something worse would likely happen. 

Soldier Boy hated the way he so easily followed her order. And he hated it more when Amber pushed his head into the sheets and he liked it. If only his father could see him now. He wondered what he'd say. Probably something worse than what he could come up with. But, then again, that would take a lot more work than what his father wanted to do. 

“Take a deep breath,” Amber advised. Soldier Boy could hear a cap opening and closing. He had an idea as to what it was. “Or don't. You might like it better.” She teased as she pushed her finger inside him without any other warning. 

The muscles in his legs tensed as he moved his head, the bell on his collar ringing as he did. “What the—” Another finger. Soldier Boy was even less prepared than before. “Fuck!” Pain seared inside him. Not overwhelming but a lot more than he thought he'd ever experience in this setting. “What—”

“Shhh,” Amber cooed softly, “Bad boys don't get to speak. Now, I want you to be quiet. Or else something worse might happen.” Soldier Boy couldn't see her face but he could imagine what it looked like. A nice, but unsettling, smile on her face as hooded eyes stared down at him. “Give me a nod that you understand,” She pressed her fingers deeper inside and he had to bite on his bottom lip to keep a noise from escaping him. “C'mon, sweetheart, please?”

Soldier Boy nodded, eyes screwed shut. A satisfied noise left Amber's lips. She curled her slender fingers inside him while his face contorted, trying his best not to let out a strained moan as he gripped the sheets. His whole body tensed when Amber's hand started to move. 

In and out. In and out. In and out. Harder, harder, harder. He wanted to scream. Yell. Maybe kick a door in. He wanted to do something. But this power Amber had over him made him have second thoughts. The way she made him feel. Like he was a teenager again. Powerless. Soldier Boy had lived so long that he forgot what it was like. A life that was mostly filled with drugs, women, and alcohol to ease some sort of pain he didn't want to acknowledge. But Amber fucked it out of him. Somehow. 

So Soldier Boy stayed quiet. Like she asked—no, demanded—him to. And then there was that bell. It rang with each push. He felt like it was too much. The noises, the sensations, the fact that he couldn't let the tension in him release in some way. But it also wasn't enough. He wanted more. Needed more. That gnat inside him was going insane. He needed to feel sore the next morning, needed to be reminded of what happened, needed to follow her rules.

“That’s a good boy,” Soldier Boy could hear pants being unzipped. He drew in a sharp breath. “Only good boys get to be fucked by my cock. Do you think you deserve that?” Amber's voice was smooth and sweet, like honey, but grounded and strong. He couldn't get enough of it. “Use your words.” Her movements stopped so he could form more coherent words. 

“Please.” Soldier Boy panted softly, finally easing some of the tension built in his shoulders and arms. 

Amber tsked. “I can't hear you, sweetheart. Louder,” She thrusted her fingers in suddenly, eliciting a sudden, choked whine from Soldier Boy. And another ring of the bell. “Like that.” 

“God, please! Please! Amber, I-I need you so much.” He whined, pleading with every ounce of want in his body. His knuckles were white as they fisted the sheets. Soldier Boy was painfully aware that he tore them—he was so close—Amber would have half a mind to stop and think of something worse to put him through. “Like—fuck! Like nothing else I've ever needed in my life.” The words jumbled out of him faster than he could think. 

The air stilled. For just a moment. 

He was surprised at himself for admitting such a thing. Was meeting Amber really all it took for his walls to start crumbling? Not completely, but enough. To the point where maybe falling in love again wasn't so hard for him. 

Amber slid a hand up Soldier Boy’s side and let out a hum. “Really?” Her voice was amused. “Get on your back for me, then.” 

Quickly, Soldier Boy turned on the bed. His knees were bent in front of him. He was happy to finally be able to see her face. And appreciate her body. Amber was stripped back down to her underwear. Well, minus her actual underwear. Her bra was still on but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Amber pushed his legs apart and looked down at him. 

The view of Soldier Boy below her made her feel accomplished. Prideful somehow. Amber did always like the idea of a man begging for her. And this man just so happened to be a really powerful one. Yeah, that was gratifying. 

“I want you to promise me something,” Amber began with a light, intentionally, sweet smile as she pushed inside him. Soldier Boy's jaw dropped open. He felt like he was being split down the middle. “Don't say anything like tranny or fag or, hell, even pussy again to me or anyone else. Okay?” Her smile dropped from her lips, eyes glaring down at him. 

The bell on his collar rang frantically as he nodded, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. 

Amber lifted Soldier Boy’s calf over her shoulder as she leaned over him, admiring the way he looked in the black leather collar as she pushed her pelvis into the flesh of his ass. His chest shook as he took in a sharp breath. 

“Please—please move!” Soldier Boy begged softly, lifting a hand to Amber's neck to gingerly caress underneath the curve of her jaw. He wanted to sob with need. He was way too close to having his fortress be completely and utterly destroyed. And he didn't want to stop it. 

A wicked smile graced Amber's lips. A twinge of desire churned in his stomach. “A little more, sweetheart, I like this.” She admitted as she jerked her hips. 

That goddamned bell chimed again.

Soldier Boy choked on a whimper. “Baby, fuck—I need you to move! Please.” His brain was buzzing louder and louder as time went on but he was still very much conscious and hadn't turned Amber into dust—not that he'd be able to do that in the first place. 

“Hmm. Okay.” Amber relented. Only slightly. 

Her immediate pace was hard and fast and Soldier Boy panted heavily, a whine or whimper at the end of every single noise he made. The bell rang with each movement, swinging softly. He pushed his head back onto the bed as his whole body tensed up. His muscles ached while his mind reeled with delight.

Soldier Boy had never felt anything like this before. Pure ecstasy. Better than the drug. Any drug for that matter. His ass was starting to get sore with each thrust but he couldn't have cared less. The ache made it all the more worth it. Hell, even the sound of her skin pounding into his made his mind whir like an old computer. 

“Your sounds,” Avery panted into his ear. “They’re fucking beautiful.” She attached her lips to Soldier Boy’s jaw, nipping at the skin. She wanted to do this more often. 

And judging by Soldier Boy’s sounds, he'd like that too.

“Ah, fuck!” Soldier Boy’s free hand gripped at Amber's waist, digging his nails into her skin. “Baby–Baby, shit—I can't—I can't—” He sobbed. He couldn't hold on anymore. All the touching and feeling and everything was rising and rising. A part of him was surprised he lasted this long. Especially with the finger-fucking he went through earlier. 

Avery flipped the bell around Soldier Boy’s neck as she sucked a mark above it. A helpless whimper escaped his lips. 

“Be a doll and hold it in,” Avery ground out, giving Soldier Boy a particularly hard thrust. He drew in a sharp breath which morphed into a whine. “You'll do that for me?” 

Soldier Boy whimpered, “Uh-huh.” He was so drunk on feeling that he couldn't stop himself from obeying her. But it got harder and harder with each snap of her hips. “Shit–” He breathed as the muscles in his legs started to twitch. 

“You're almost there,” Compared to the almost carnal way Amber was fucking into him, the way her lips pressed against his skin was soft, gentle, and felt strangely more sensual than everything else. “I can feel it, sweetheart. So am I. Just—” Amber grunted lowly into Soldier Boy’s ear. “Just hold on. A little more.” Her voice was strained.

That's when Soldier Boy had a moment of clarity. Amber was going to cum. Inside him. A shiver of delight ran throughout his body. 

After a few more deep pushes, Amber let out a harbored sigh. The tightness in her stomach broke and Soldier Boy cried out as he felt her paint his insides. Not more than a few seconds later, as Amber slowed her hips, he came as well. Drops of white landed on both of their stomachs. 

Soldier Boy had to resist the urge to actually cry. He had never felt more thoroughly satisfied in his life. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Amber cupped his face, tilting it so he would look her in the eyes. “You like this, hm? Me inside you? You'd like it if it was like this all the time, wouldn't you?” She teased softly. 

The man underneath her loved the weight of her inside him. Maybe he secretly wished she would split him in half. He nodded silently, his face red as he felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. Soldier Boy didn't sweat. Not in a long time. 

Amber caressed the side of his face and smiled down at him. “I could arrange that.” She hummed. “But,” She pulled his leg from her shoulder and let it fall. “We have things to do tomorrow.” Her cock slipped from him and he immediately felt empty. 

He pursed his lips, a crease between his eyebrows when he let out a whine from the loss of her touch. He could barely speak after feeling something so intense. Amber went to the bathroom connected to her room to grab a towel and cleaned him up. Soldier Boy’s whole body was sore but his ass was where he felt it the most. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Amber sighed, running a hand through his hair which he gladly leaned into. “Don't be like that.” She sighed as she picked up her underwear to put it back on to, at the very least, have something to cover herself in bed. Amber didn't like being naked underneath covers. It just felt wrong. 

After some coaxing, Amber was able to get Soldier Boy to put his boxers back on himself and lay in bed correctly. However, he immediately clung to her like a vice once they were both in her bed. He buried his face into her neck while an arm rested over her stomach. Amber hadn't bothered to take the collar off his neck and Soldier Boy didn't mention it. He liked how it felt. A symbol of her ownership over him. 

That little bell stopped ringing. And so did his head. 

-----

A/N: I JUST WANTED TO SAY THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT ON THIS FIC !!! i never thought so many other people would want to read about soldier boy getting dicked down but here we are !!! 🫶

taglist: @aleemendoza2425-blog

taglist open here !!

[theotherwesley]

Flight 👀

WIP from a multi-chapter Gundam Wing fic that I will be carrying on my back forever like Atlas... :'D (Rating: general, CW: none)

The little car was given a rigorous inspection, the remainder of its contents confiscated, and soon they were escorted down streets lined with barricades and soldiers, past rows of tanks, and beneath the long shadow of a mechanical giant that stood with its back to the sun. 

Then they were on an overpass, leaving the capital city of Havreneuf, of what was now the former Sanc Kingdom. 

The city looked the same as it always had, except unexpected parts of it were missing, as if a child had reached down with a clumsy fist and torn out sections of a model, knocking things flat that were in its way, and muddying the sunset with dirty fingers. 

The skyline was different now– there had been a palace up on that hill, backed by white cliffs. It had watched over the ships coming in from the western sea to port, and the squares of red-roofed houses, and the church steeples. Its garden had been full of tulips.

Milliardo watched it scroll past in the distance, smoke darkening the sky long after it left the frame of his window. Before Sanc disappeared from view completely, he saw it: hazy as a faraway windmill on a still day, passing so much slower than the nearby buildings, one of the bipedal metal dreadnaughts stood, bathed in the last long arms of daylight. It was motionless, its single eye reflecting brilliant, liquid gold, and nothing troubled it.

“Mobile suits here too, huh,” the man said warily, “no surprise, I guess. Must’ve learned how good they are at scaring people back in the Colonies.”

“Hey,” the woman turned in her seat and gave him a reassuring nod, one arm behind the driver’s headrest. “We did it. Everything’s going to be okay.”  

The man looked over his shoulder with his broad, American smile. “You did great, kid. You did everything right. We’re going to get you somewhere safe now, you’ve got some good people looking out for you.”

“--ill I s-- hhy s-hhist-r?” he tried to ask. He was handed a bottle of water. 

“Oh, sweetheart. No. I’m sorry,” the woman’s face creased, “not for a while. But she’s safe. She’s safe. We got word from Marena and Pagan. They made it out. We won’t be able to contact them again for a while, but she’s going to be alright, and so are you.”  

The sun disappeared over the horizon. Headlights switched on. 

“You can take the hair off now, if you want. It’s going to be a long drive– try to get some sleep.”

He slid the wig and hat off his head. How was he meant to sleep? He was a piano wire ready to snap. But he did anyway. He must have, because he did not remember anything else of that journey, only his arrival at their destination, several countries and a lifetime away.

[stayhiro]

❮ 𝙷𝙸𝚁𝙾  ❯  ━━ ( hiroshi mori . ex ferryman turned budding tattoo artist at ink riot . thirty. ) just your average frustrating to death stubborn ass with good intentions 🌊✒️ information HERE, plots/connections HERE.

written by a pile of ❮ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 ❯ 🦴.

STAT BLOCK

FULL NAME.    hiroshi miro ALSO KNOWN AS.    hiro, stubborn ass, stayhiro on social media AGE.    30 ZODIAC.    taurus GENDER.    cismale PRONOUNS.    he/him/his ORIENTATION.    demiromantic, chemistry based (historically feminine preference, presumed heterosexual) RL STATUS.    single / it’s complicated OCCUPATION.    ferryman tattoo artist LIVING.    sunnyvale commons, aspen creek, nc FAMILY.    haruto mori (biological father, naval officer, fisherman, deceased), tiffany mori (biological mother, retired teacher),  sofia cross (step-mother, hospice worker), dylan cross (step-brother, student) RL HISTORY.    current ⸺ n/a    former ⸺ wanted connection (ex-fiancé), wanted connection (on/off ex) PET(S).    potato (dusty tan/white shorthair cat)

PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE

losing a battle with his caffeine addiction

much gossip (especially with family, regulars to his shop and friends or friends of friends) surrounding his separation with his fiancé a few years or so prior.

amateur mr. fix-it, will attempt to fix anything for anyone if they ask nicely enough about it (even if he fusses and complains about how it troubles him, he just does it anyway lmao)

a proper outdoorsman and a surprisingly decent cook

became a tattoo artist within the last 4~ years, still perfecting his craft.

very modest and self effacing about his art. still learning to let himself love his art, rather than consider it a waste of his time

self-sacrificing, self-sabotaging and stubborn to death

MISCELLANEOUS

VIBES + AESTHETICS ⸺ strong coffee, calloused hands/bruised knuckles, rolled up sleeves, gray sky drizzles, looking away to disguise a smile, well-worn/loved clothes, doesn’t believe in good luck, intimate matching tattoos, bonfire smoke from damp wood, smudged graphite pencil sketches, unstyled hair, unsent text messages, bickering as a sign of affection, beach sand, sacrifice for those you love, too sweet and too spicy foods, “don’t worry about it”, sudden subtle tenderness, stubborn to death, salt of the earth, crumpled up paper

MOODBOARD ⸺ here.

sacrificed his dream for his families peace of mind for a long time. now he feels massive guilt about finally choosing himself, and second guesses the decision every day

he chose to become a tattoo artist rather than a fine/traditional artist because he enjoys the idea of his art becoming a part of someone

more talkative and affectionate when drunk (which is why he tells most people he doesn’t drink and avoids it when he can)

daily boxing and jogging/running in his downtime

hot and cold in romance, messy and miserable ex

his favorite color is gray and stormy blue

STRENGTHS ⸺ thorough and capable, efficient, uncompromising, principled, tender, attentive, notable ability to soldier on, security seeking and offering, generally mellow.

WEAKNESSES ⸺ perfectionistic, incorrigible, stubborn, somewhat argumentative, reluctant to open up, must have the last word, slightly petulant, at times avoidant.

LOVE LANGUAGE(S) ⸺ acts of service, physical touch

BIOGRAPHY

( cw  ;  brief/vague mention of parental death )

The Mori family lineage comes from the sea. Salt in their veins, eyes steady like the horizon. A third generation Japanese-American, third generation sailor, born and raised by the seafront, and toiled to stay there. Hiroshi didn’t always plan to fall into line with the rest of the men in his family. When he was a kid, he wanted to venture off into the world, to some big city; to be his own boss, a big name artist who has art in museums, and his art on the cover of magazines. But little by little it was chipped off of him like worn paint. His families disapproval, the way his dream tore his mother and father’s marriage apart. Always fighting over where he belonged in the world. dreams aren’t worth it when they disappoint and devastate those around you, he decides. Right out of high school, he works with his father; a fisherman with the Sawyers, long time friends of the family, diligently. A young boy amongst the men of the sea. He never went on to college like most of his friends, and any art he did was only in his free time. And he might have stayed that way forever. In a perfect world, being a simple fisherman would have been enough for him, enough to make his family proud. He could continue being a simple, salt of the earth man, to take care of his ailing father and sweet mother. Continue seeing them day in and out, to work with the Sawyers. He found himself a love, a light of his life that functioned as a lighthouse (wc). She kept him grounded, she helped him forget just how unhappy and stagnant he felt. He poured so much of his unhappiness and discontent into her, and she soaked it up like a sponge. And when his fiancé then clearly would never stop asking him to finally follow his dreams, to let his father’s wishes for him go and be who he wants to be, he shrank away from her. He called off the marriage, he called off his heart. His father was elderly, the Sawyers were happy with his contributions. He didn’t want to be happy at the expense of others. So he let his love go. And he stuck to his guns.  But when his father passes away a few years later, it rocks his world. His old man died proud of him, Hiro can at least say that much for himself. But… what else is there? He can’t admit out loud that his ex-fiance is right, but he feels it in his heart. Now that he’s let the love of his life go, he can finally admit it– years late but better than never. He can admit his ex-fiance was always right.  His heart had been empty, his eyes tired, his dreams forever washed to the wayside. He can’t do it anymore. He puts in his resignation only a year after his father dies. At the age of 25, Hiro finally gives himself permission to be the man he wants to be. He presents his work to museums, he posts it online, he even goes to the ink riot to train and put himself into art. He’s a late bloomer, but he’s still attempting to let himself be happy. A difficulty. His greatest enemy is himself. Every time his mother calls with that sad, disappointed voice, every time he sees the Sawyers, he second guesses himself. Is the work he does now any more important than what he was doing before? No, but it feels better, it frees his soul. Even still…There’s a conflict within him, between his nature and his desire.