#he's doing better but obviously we know he's terminal

[deathbypufferfish]

If anyone is wondering my sweet boy, Eko has been doing well. 💗 He still has his energy and silly self and has been getting everything he wants.

[no-144444]

slip up- o.piastri (no.81)

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summary: oscar slips up about your marriage.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader

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“How was your summer break Oscar?” Jack Doohan asked. 

“Yeah, it was good. Visited my wife’s family in Ireland for two weeks. It was beautiful,” he smiled, remembering the happy memories. 

Jack smirked, knowing what he’d just said and didn’t realise. “Feeling ready and rested for today? Ready to beat Verstappen?”

He chuckled. “We’ll see, I guess.”

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“So Y/n, how was your summer break?” Will Buxton asked, a smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah all good Osc and I went back to visit family, it was a great holiday. We spent some time in Dublin, in Galway, in Tipperary, in Kerry, yeah. It was gorgeous. We finally got some good weather for once,” you smiled. 

“Do anything special?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“We actually showed his family all around Ireland, and our extended families met for like, the first time which was cool,” you shrugged. “Yeah, Nicole is an avid hiker so we went up Carrauntoohil, which if you don’t know is the tallest mountain in Ireland. Hattie was not a fan,” you chuckled. “Yeah, but it was great, we had a bunch of fun.” 

“Well, that sounds like a lovely break. How are you feeling about today? Worried about the weather and wind?” He asked. 

“No, not really. Obviously Zandvoort is always a very unpredictable circuit in terms of weather, but I kind of grew up with this being the standard for almost every karting race, or just training session. If I’m not used to it by now, I’d feel a bit foolish,” you chuckled. 

“And Oscar, your husband, how do you think he’s feeling?” Will asked, a smirk on his face, knowing that Oscar exposed you two. 

You raised an eyebrow. “My boyfriend,” you corrected. “Is probably fine. He has the fastest car on the grid, and a bunch of talent. I’m not worried.”

“Do you think the McLaren’s will beat you?”

“I’m a realist Will, and I’m not stupid. Obviously they’ll beat us, are you mental?”

“Ok,”  he chuckled. “Thank you for your time.”

“Bye!” you smiled, walking away. 

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Nicole called you as you stepped into the McLaren motorhome.  

“Hey Nicole,” you smiled. “How are you?”

“I’d be better if my son wasn’t stupid,” she deadpanned. 

You chuckled. “How is he stupid?” 

“Are you with anyone now?”

“No, just in the McLaren motorhome trying to find your stupid son,” you shrugged. “What’s up?”

“He said you were his wife in an interview,” she sighed and you face-palmed. “Yeah.”

“Fuck’s sake,” you sighed, picking up the pace to try and find him quicker. You went to his driver’s room, the canteen, even Zak Brown’s office as you chatted to Nicole, then ultimately hung up to try and call Oscar. 

He picked up after two rings. “Hey baby, everything alright? I’m looking for you right now and I can’t find you?”

“I’m in the McLaren motorhome,” you told him. “Did you tell someone that we were married?”

“Ummm… I don’t think so? I’m pretty sure I’ve been keeping it under wraps pretty tightly,” he chuckled. “Why?”

“Your mum just called me and told me you said I was your ‘wife’ in an interview, so… yeah,” you explained. 

“Shit,” he whispered. “I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to- it was a complete accident, I swear-”

“Osc, I’m not mad. To be honest I thought you would’ve been worse, I thought you would’ve accidentally posted the wedding photos or something,” you chuckled. “We should honestly just tell people. Anyways, come meet me, I want to see you.”

“I love you,” he was smiling, you could tell, happy you two didn’t have to hide it anymore. It had been both your ideas to hide the wedding, just to keep it quiet for a while. You asked all the drivers (all of them came), and anyone else within the F1 sphere to not post about anything to do with Ireland. You even went as far as to shut down an entire Terminal in the Dublin Airport to get people in and out inconspicuously. You just wanted your wedding to be yours, no one else's. 

It was gorgeous though, getting married in a manor house on the coast of Galway with all of your closest family and friends was definitely one of the best days of your life. Your ‘honeymoon’ had consisted of showing both your extended families around Ireland, and spending nights watching films and reading books with Oscar by your side. It was relaxing, but not exactly what a honeymoon should be, so you two had a month-long trip to the Maldives planned for the winter. 

Oscar wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your neck as he hummed a greeting. 

“Well hello to you too,” you chuckled. 

“I have such a gorgeous wife,” he smiled. 

“I have such a gorgeous husband,” you smiled back. You turned around to him and kissed him quickly as a greeting, then you grabbed his hand and led him further into the motorhome. You two walked to his driver’s room, and you sat on the bed as Oscar pulled out his phone. You all sent texts out to various family and drivers, giving them permission to post pictures of your wedding, then shared your own.

"It's out," he turned to you.

You nodded, biting your lip to stop your smile. "It's out."

He smiled bashfully. :you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Ditto," you chuckled and he laughed.

"Ditto?" he gawked. "Baby-"

"I'm kidding," you cupped his cheeks. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me too. I couldn't imagine my life without you, I love you ."

He blushed and leant in, pressing your lips together. "Now..." he smirked. "We can put our rings back on."

You smiled as you both pulled the necklaces that held you rings on them out from around your necks. You had Oscar's, and Oscar had yours. You took it off the chain and pushed it onto his finger, smiling as he did the same to you. Just like your wedding day.

"I'm so glad I married you," you smiled.

"I'm so glad you married me too."

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comments

user5: WTAF

user569: i missed like 13000 chapters, they got married?????

user46: YAY Y/NOSCAR

user72: they're married????

y/npiastri: lando will cry, change the caption :(

-> alexalbon: ok MOM.

-> landonorris: I'm a grown man Y/n

-> y/npiastri: funny, because you don't act like it when you ask me to make you grilled cheese????

-> user37: she ate him up

-> user28: THE USERNAME CHANGE????!!!!!

user72: hey so this is insane.

kikagomez: I'm so normal about them (i cried 13 different times).

-> alexandrast.mleux: same (i didn't stop crying)

lilymhe: my OTP

-> alexalbon: I'll go fuck myself I guess???

-> oscarpiastri: off you go!

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comments

user27: THE DRESS HELLO

user21: she really is the prettiest person on planet earth isn't she?

-> oscarpiastri: Yup :)

-> user21: HOLY SHIT THEY'RE SO CUTE.

nicolepiastri: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

addiepiastri: ❤️❤️❤️

maepiastri: ❤️❤️❤️

chrispiastri: ❤️❤️❤️

user80: the whole piastri family in the comments :)))))

landonorris: she slayed.

-> pierregasly: real.

-> maxverstappen: real.

-> arthurleclerc: real.

-> zhouguanyu: real

-> lancestroll: real.

-> dannielriccardo: real.

->valterribottas: real.

-> lewishamilton: real.

-> nicohulkenberg: real.

-> kmag: real.

-> oscarpiastri: real.

-> georgerusell: real.

->alexalbon: real

-> logansargeant: real.

-> kimiantonelli: real.

->olliebearman: real.

->liamlawson: real.

-> estebanocon: real.

-> yukitsunoda: real.

->checoperez: real

->paularon: real

-> alexdunne: REAL.

-> fernandoalonso: real.

-> charlesleclerc: real.

->carlossainz: real.

-> mickschumacher: real.

-> sebastianvettel: real.

->markwebber: real.

->jensonbutton: real.

->y/npiastri: THANKS GUYS :))))

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comments

logansargeant: diabolical caption

-> landonorris: THANK YOU

-> logansargeant: no ones talking about the bouquet we picked out mate, that's why.

-> landonorris: DOUBLE HOW DARE YOU

y/npiastri: Love you Alex ❤️

oscarpiastri: Thanks Albono

georgerussell: ❤️

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y/npiastri: my love :) ->oscarpiastri: MY love :) -> landonorris: possessiveness kink much? -> y/npiastri: GET OFF YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW.

zakbrownceo: Adorable -> landonorris: why is bro acting like he was invited 🤣🤣🤣 -> zakbrownceo: why is bro acting like i'll just give him a seat next year 🤣🤣🤣🤣 -> landonorris: 😐

lewishamilton: pretty flowers, wonder who picked them??? -> logansargeant: ME! ->alexalbon: ME! -> landonorris: ME! -> fernandoalonso: ME! -> valtteribottas: ME! -> charlesleclerc: ME! -> georgerussell: ME! -> zhouguanyu: ME! -> lancestroll: ME! -> danielriccardo: ME! -> hattiepiastri: ME! -> addiepiastri: ME! -> maepiastri: ME! -> nicolepiastri: ME! ->kmag: ME! -> nicohulkenberg: ME! ->estebanocon: ME! -> pierregasly: ME! -> yukitsunonda: ME! ----------

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[spectral-phases]

I need people to stop getting so precious about Clark "not letting" Bruce kill the Joker after Jason’s death post-Crisis. Everyone acts like it was like this:

But it was more:

So, we all know the story. Actually. Wait. Maybe we don't. So. The story beneath the cut.

Jason got benched as being Robin because he was not dealing well with his parents' deaths, felt like he was no longer wanted because he was adopted specifically to be Robin (and Bruce is shit at making his kids feel loved a lot of times). Jason discovered the woman who raised him was his step mother, not his bio mother. He goes looking for bio mom. Finds bio mom, she hugs him and tells him she's missed him so much, Bruce contemplates letting Jason live with his family if that would make him happier despite being obviously cut up about the idea of losing Jason. Bio mom is being extorted by the Joker to let him ship out Joker Venom disguised as medical supplies because he can't just steal the supplies and sell them. Bruce has to go stop the shipment of Joker Venom, his portable chopper is too small for two, so Jason is left behind. Jason is told to wait, but The Killing Joke just happened and his bio mom is alone with the Joker (who is insane, capricious and evil), so, obviously he has to save his mother and could not wait. Bio Mom is outside, no guards, Jason says, "Hey, I'm actually Robin, I'm here to save you from the Joker" and she says "Nah, he's actually gone, so I'm fine. But let's go inside so I can grab my things and we can leave." Her things turn out to be a gun to point at Jason after leading him to the Joker. Jason is too stunned to move. The Joker and his goons beat Jason up and then the Joker uses the crowbar to finish beating him to a presumed death. His bio mom at some point couldn't bear to watch it anymore and turns around to smoke a cigarette. Once Joker’s done, bio mom asks what they're going to do about Batman, and the Joker is all "oh. Yeah, lol. Probably was a bad idea to kill his kid. Whoops. My bad." And then ties up the bio mom to kill her and erase any evidence he brutally attacked/killed Jason. The Joker sets a bomb on a timer and leaves. Jason uses the last of his strength to untie his bio mom so she can escape. He can't see well enough to try and disarm the bomb. She tries to get them both out. The door is locked. Jason shields her as the bomb goes off, but she dies just as Batman comes up and tells him the Joker did it, calls Jason a hero, says he deserved a better mother (he did) but does not/is unable to own up to her part in Jason’s death before dying herself. Bruce finds Jason’s body and is fucking devastated.

So after that, Bruce chases the Joker down to the UN because the Joker lucked into being a diplomat for Iran and is now meeting at the UN assembly in New York. Bruce is 100% set on doing a premeditated murder of the Joker for Jason. The US government is aware of this. They hire Superman to grab Batman to try and talk him down because the Joker has diplomatic immunity for past crimes. It does not go well.

"That’s the law, not Justice." Batman is 100% still going to kill the Joker. Everyone knows. Superman knows. Superman says the stupid thing is putting vengeance above the interests of the country, not killing Joker.

Batman sneaks into the Joker’s room, and the Joker (forgetting his earlier desire to not get fucking killed by Batman) is like "oh man, I wish I could have seen your face when you found his body" and further needles Bruce with a "Or are you here to thank me for getting rid of him for you?" Making Bruce triple down on killing the Joker.

"Your confirming it makes what I have to do a lot easier."

Bruce manages to get in to observe the UN meeting as Bruce Wayne. Superman is disguised as a guard. Bruce is seething, watching the Joker, knowing that is the guy who killed Jason.

"I should have terminated his vile existence years ago. But I didn't. I couldn't. His insanity gained him a stay of execution. But no longer. ... Jason’s dead."

They both know the Joker is too stupid and lacks the impulse control needed to not attack the UN and immediately lose his immunity, which is the only thing keeping him alive. Joker releases Joker Venom to kill the delegates. Superman super breathes to inhale all the gas, which he's immune to because he's Superman and then says this as he leaves to go find a place to release the poison gas safely.

"Batman, he's all yours."

Superman basically says "You can kill him now" because he knows Batman’s mind has not changed, and Superman had not once tried to say "killing Joker would be wrong" just that it couldn't happen before the Joker acted in a way that lost him his immunity.

And Bruce does go to do just that. He chases the Joker down, intent to kill, and jumps onto the helicopter the Joker is using to escape. One of the guys fires at Batman. It shoots the pilot, hits the Joker in damn near his heart, if not his heart, and Batman realizes the helicopter is going down and decides to jump and leave the Joker behind. He intends for the Joker to die in the crash.

Okay? Bruce was 100% going to kill the Joker for killing Jason. Superman said "hang on. Let him get enough rope to hang himself first and then you can do it." And then Joker only survived because comic books. And Bruce is unhappy about having to wait. Superman did not try to talk Bruce out of killing the Joker at all ever, or scold him for wanting to kill the Joker. (Don't say he was rescuing the Joker in that last panel. The next panel is Superman fishing Batman, who is shot in the arm, from the harbor, and Batman telling Superman to go find the body. Find the body! And Superman does go to do just that, but is unable to).

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[malwaredykes]

well. here she is. miss Leigh Stasik.

trans woman. stubborn, incorrigible, eccentric. communist; she has leftist in-fighting with herself on the regular. a cannibal; she has no moral qualms about this, and its both a bit of a spiritual thing and a bit of a pragmatic thing. medic (not a doctor. no medical license). she knows for sure she had some kind of significant personality change from being shot in the head, but she doesn't remember what she was like exactly before it happened, it all became this kind of distant memory soup. shes originally from west new cali, but she grew very attached to the mojave. and has a lot of contempt for the ncr. She Will Serve Crack Before She Serves This Country. thank god the army discriminates against transsexuals etc. zero tolerance for the legion, obviously.

she firmly believes she is not nice, or kind, or compassionate, but instead her actions and her general sense of justice stem from her simply doing whats the most logical and objectively beneficial. it may be true to some extent, but she might also have a wee bit of ocd of the "i am a horrible person whos at all times like 2 seconds away from committing atrocities" variety.

shes a SCIENTIST. unofficially. she doesnt have a degree nor a chosen field of study. she makes her own hrt and other mysterious concoctions, including designer chems. which she claims she ingests injects etc not for recreational purposes, but to Enhance Her Powers And Possibilities. she reads old world books about psychology so she can manipulate people better. and makes weird contraptions and doohickeys while high. shes a HACKER of course and hacks terminals and systems for fun and just to see if she can.

her stats are out there due to implants and intense training, originally they were rather average. in-game she wears combat armor mk 2, but i see her having spruced it up like this. her main weapon is the ycs/186, the unique gauss rifle, but before that she used a modded plasma pistol. which she very much enjoyed the silly appearance of. because it was so small and with so much shit tacked on and she could just hold it in one hand like a mutated revolver like Hands up motherfucker bang bang bang lol. her melee weapon of choice is the machete gladius, but she's been training to be able to wield a thermic lance.

in my head the trajectory of her actions and the fate of the mojave that follows is different from what you can do with the game, because leigh could only go for The Secret Leftist Route Which Was Supposed To Be In The Game But We Were Robbed Of It.

boone was the first friend she made after leaving goodsprings and their relationship is particularly notable. they are Comrades, Siblings-In-Arms, Worsties (like besties but fucked up). theyve seen each other at their worst. they annoy each other on purpose. theyve had serious ideological clashes with each other and some ways in which boone perceives the world drive leigh absolutely nuts. they're ride or die for each other. theyre the kind of comfortable around each other where she'll be on the toilet and smoking a cig with the door open and talking to him, while he's naked sitting on the floor removing stitches from his leg. she's done surgery without anesthesia on him. he's projectile vomited blood on her from being poisoned by cazadores. she strongly encourages him to become a traitor to the ncr and to take part in the revolution and the formation of the new independent mojave alliance. somehow, it works on him in the end. shamefully they kinda like snuggling... boone bro come to bed man its nighty night man its beddy bye time.

shes in love with lily bowen. i havent decided yet whether she actually makes a move. but she thinks lily is sooooo dreamy. and shes right. if you dont think the enormous 203 year old blue mutant woman is dreamy thats your problem. outta her way

[celaenaeiln]

Hey! I just wanted to say that I’m a big fan of your blog and I love your posts about Dick Grayson <3

I must warn that english is not my first lenguage, therefore I apologize for any mistakes that I make.

I’ve seen some posts were you mention some things that I find very interesting, and I would love to have a longer analysis on them. For example, the dynamic between Slade/Deathstroke and Dick/Nightwing, how complex their relationship truly is and some similarities it has with Bruce’s and Dick’s relationship. I would love to read a longer post analyzing this and going into more detail about it, mainly because I’m also kind of new to getting to know much of their story (I’m also kind of new to the whole fandom in general hahah). I also found very interesting something you mentioned in one of your latest posts about Superman’s relationship with Dick, and how you found it a bit more complex than the one he has with Bruce, I would love to read more about that as well! Of course only if you have the time and actually want to do it, I don’t want it to sound as if I’m making any demands hahahah.

Thank you for your time! This is actually my first time asking anything to a blog, so I hope I did alright haha

Hello and THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I would love to talk more about all of this with you!!!

For example, the dynamic between Slade/Deathstroke and Dick/Nightwing, how complex their relationship truly is and some similarities it has with Bruce’s and Dick’s relationship.

Anon's ask is based off this post where I discussed some similarities between Slade and Bruce in terms to their relationship with Dick but it wasn't really in depth.

In some ways I think Dick sees Bruce in Slade. I really don't know if Dick has made the connection between them but I think Dick is drawn to certain traits in Slade's and it subconscious at the least from his dealings with bruce. Meaning, Slade and Bruce have the same relationship with Dick as Dick has with the other. It's veiled because they're on opposite sides of the spectrum, but Dick and Slade's relationship have parallels with Dick and Bruce. We should really break this down lol.

I think the overarching component and similarity to each of their relationships with Dick, is that they see his potential to do better - to be better.

What do I mean by this - I mean that Slade and Bruce are similar in that they both see his potential and try to mold him into someone greater, but in different ways. The end result is that Bruce tests Dick's responsibility and pushes him further but still manipulative, while Slade's approach is more negatively manipulative and he tests Dick’s resilience and ethical boundaries.

So that's the first similarity - the praise and mentorship

Take a look at Slade's interactions with Dick and how he talks to him-

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #43

He's effusive with his praise -

"You're not a fool, Grayson. Why are you pretending to be?'"

"Tricky brat...gotta admire him though. Took one chance in a million and he got away."

"Funny. Of all the titans, the one without powers proved the hardest."

The way they are to Dick, they are his consciousness. Slade is Dick's evil conscience and Bruce is his angelic conscience. (Their New Titans comics ally-ship was peak)

Deathstroke the Terminator Annual_1

Nightwing (1996) Issue #114

The New Titans (1988) Issue #86

They're nemesis, obviously, but Slade his this kind of tough love teaching going on with Dick. They're on opposite sides but he still makes him better. Dick, the hero he is now, is a consequence of the underlying teaching he learned from Slade. He's as supportive to Dick as he is ready to fight him with makes for a weird combo.

This kind of - I'll let you get your feelings out and then make you settle down - type of mentorship reminds me EXACTLY of Bruce's reaction to the Blockbuster event.

I think Dick is hooked to this type of relationship mainly because of his issues. Dick has canonical abandonment issues -

Now everyone's heard the term but what are abandonment issues?

sounds reallyyyy familiar doesn't it?

Gotham Knights Issue #14

It's very definition is basically the entirety of Dick's monologue in Gotham Knights Issue 14.

Because of his abandonment issues, Dick is a huge people pleaser. There's a comic issue which I can't remember from where he's talking to i think Kori and Kori's like 'you've done enough. you're always there for everyone, it's more than enough. Why can't you be satisfied with that.' and Dick responds along the lines of 'It's ever enough.'

So Dick on a basal level is attracted to figures of authority. He feels both the need to earn praise from them yet this desire wars with his own need to be free of them. He has control issues on top of abandonment issues. There's a comic that I forgot the name of but Dick teams up with members of the Justice League and they trapeze through a jungle under the orders of this corrupt military general. He teams up with Arthur and automatically starts commanding people to which Aquaman tells him off, saying this isn't the Titans. Dick is genuinely sorry and backs off. For a minute. But immediately goes right back into command mode but Arthur lets it go, realizing that Dick's not conscious of it and that his behaviour is automatic. "Too many leaders" he calls the situation in his head.

He's wants his freedom and control and to be acknowledged for that freedom and control just as much as he wants to be acknowledged for following orders/being a good boy.

it's fucked up.

And this all ties back into Dick's relationship with Slade paralleling Dick's relationship with Bruce.

With Bruce, this thought process is very clear and it's okay for him to think about (because he'll never admit it out loud) it because it's his mentor/best friend/father.

Dick can not think this way about Slade because he is not supposed to. Slade is his enemy. But his actions talk more than this words which is why whenever Dick allies Slade, he acts like he does with Bruce. Or atleast, he feels that way.

The Titans (1999) Issue #10

This is the time when their Dick's relationship with Bruce parallelling his with Slade is explicitly written. It's so obvious that even Roy picks up on it. Well, I shouldn't say 'even Roy' because Roy is pretty perceptive actually but the point still stands - it's obvious.

So in brief summary, Bruce and Slade's 'mentorship', if you can call Slade's as much, have parallels in their behavior and attitude towards Dick. And Dick, as a result of his issues, reacts the same way he does to Slade as he does to Bruce. Now this was all Dick's perspective of the situation, but the thing is, Bruce and Slade know Dick. They know him very well which leads to my third point.

The freaking parallel manipulation

It's so crazy how they act towards him. They both try to manipulate him -

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

Nightwing (1996) Issue #112

But you what's really messed up in their similarity between these two scenes?

It's the fact that both Slade and Bruce are trying to manipulate Dick into coming back or staying with them.

Bruce using using Alfred's death and appealing to Dick's sense of guilt over staying separated from the family in order to coerce dick into coming back into Bruce's fold. This is what Dick means when he says he's sick of the mind games.

Slade, on the other hand, is appealing to Dick's sense of justice and moral righteousness. He's using his daughter in order bring Dick to his side by teasing Dick's need to do good for others. He's coercing Dick by hanging his daughter as bait on a hook and saying 'look. The naive daughter of an evil mercenary. Don't you want to save her?' He's targeting Dick's hero complex and need to protect the vulnerable.

This makes the parallels even more disturbing because both men are well aware of how to play Dick's emotional strings to pull Dick into their sphere and gain control over him.

In summary, there are three overarching components that make Dick and Slade's relationship eerily similar to Dick and Bruce's and vice versa.

With Bruce's relationship, his mentoring is rooted in emotional support but it often borders on manipulation. He sees Dick's potential and pushes him, sometimes excessively. Because of this push-pull relationship with bruce, Dick usually feels torn between adhering to loyalty and fighting for independence. His mindset is just perpetually caught in the middle which makes it so easy for Slade to exploit because Dick’s abandonment and control issues make him crave Bruce's approval while simultaneously feeling stifled by the overbearing nature of their bond.

Slade's relationship with Dick is darker, more manipulative, and rooted in exploitation. Although Slade is sometimes mentor-like, his intentions are really not. But the confusing thing is that's not always true. Sometimes he wants the best for dick and other times he's the worst enemy. He sees Dick's potential and uses it to manipulate him for his own purposes. While Bruce appeals to Dick's guilt, Slade appeals to Dick's sense of justice and heroism.

They both share a deep understanding of Dick’s potential and vulnerabilities. They know exactly how to manipulate him emotionally—Bruce through guilt and family ties, and Slade through exploiting Dick’s need to help others. Just like how both Slade and Bruce act the same way to Dick, Dick reacts the same way to both of them because he needs what they're selling.

Both Slade and Bruce see Dick as a tool to achieve their goals - Bruce shaping him to be a protector and leader, while Slade views him as a weapon in his own fight. Dick’s response to both figures is a reflection of his deep-seated need for approval and his desire for autonomy. This makes his relationships with Bruce and Slade sooo much fun to explore. Treating your enemy like you treat your friend? Hahaha!

I'll answer the Dick and Clark question in another post because I'll definitely exceed the image count per post if I try to answer it in this one.

And thank you again, anon!! you were perfect (*^ ‿ <*)♡

[saphronethaleph]

Carida One

“Is… something wrong, Lord Vader?” Commandant Vex asked, trying very hard not to swallow.

Or sweat too loudly.

Or give off any other indication of guilt, laxity, or something that would lead Darth Vader to decide to terminate his employment – and him – with a single gesture.

Vader didn’t respond, all his attention on a screen, and Vex took a deep and steadying breath before checking what was on the screen.

It… was nothing, really. The input report of one of the recent cadets. Joined up two days ago as part of a group from the same Outer Rim world, high aptitude marks in proprioception and the highest reflex scores Vex had ever seen… but it didn’t look like anything was strange about it. Except that Vader was reading every single line of data, examining every photo, like he’d found some kind of hidden source of truth that had been concealed from the entire galaxy until now.

“This cadet,” Vader said, abruptly deigning to take notice of Vex again. “Cadet 421. What is your impression of him?”

“Well – he’s…” Vex began. “That is, Lord Vader… he’s talented? A little quick on some of the answers, I suppose, at least that’s the impression my interviewer had – the man thought that perhaps Cadet 421 was lying about specific details of his past.”

“Which details?” Vader asked.

“Principally, that he had permission to leave his home,” Vex said. “It’s not a major issue. We deal with worse all the time, and with incoming cadets from the Outer Rim-”

“Enough,” Vader interrupted, only it didn’t qualify as interruption when it was Vader. It was simply a declaration that your sentence had reached a conclusion, and he was not going to take any discussion on that point. “You took a DNA sample, I take it?”

“Yes, Lord Vader,” Vex confirmed, nodding nervously.

“I will be leaving with it,” he said. “For clarity, that means I will be leaving with the DNA sample. I will also be leaving with all records of the DNA sample; the academy will not be permitted to retain the sample.”

The blank black eyes of his visor stared at Commandant Vex.

“Cadet 421 is under my personal protection,” Vader said, evenly. “If he dies, so do you. If he is severely injured or otherwise harmed in any way for which you or anyone in the Academy can be blamed in any fashion, you die. So will anyone responsible. I recommend putting a note in his file that you will take care of all disciplinary interactions with Cadet 421. You will not appreciate the consequences if you fail in any way. Have I made myself clear?”

In a great many ways, he had not.

But in one specific way…

“Yes, Lord Vader,” Commandant Vex said, swallowing again.

“Good,” Vader said, turning to sweep out of the room.

Then he paused.

“Which cadets did he arrive with?”

“420 and 419,” Vex answered.

“Darklighter…” Vader said, out loud. “Interesting.”

Then, with a swish of his cape, he was gone.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Luke said, with a sigh. “You’d think if the Empire was so good they could just rely on us realizing it, rather than telling us three times a day.”

Biggs winced.

“Shavit, Luke,” he said, much more quietly than his friend. “You know the academy proctors will come down on us like a ton of duracrete if any of us talk like that.”

“They will?” Luke asked. “Really?”

“Yeah, you saw what happened to Yancit, right?” Biggs said. “He got put on hard physical training for three days just for moderately defeatist statements.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got some kind of charmed life, man. I’m just glad to stay close enough that some of it rubs off on me.”

Luke chuckled, a bit nervously.

“If you say so,” he said. “What do you think it is, anyway?”

“Could be your sim scores,” Biggs guessed. “You’re doing even better than me behind the stick, and we’re both way ahead of everyone else… it’d be a weird thing to give you some kind of pass on, though. Like they’d want future ace pilots to be down on the Empire?”

Luke shook his head.

“I mean that… I mean that the Empire should just be obviously better,” he said. “And I mean obviously – it shouldn’t even be a question about whether it’s the best option. You shouldn’t have to tell people. It should just be obvious. Right?”

Biggs looked distinctly worried.

“That would be dangerous enough to say on Tatooine, Luke,” he pointed out. “That’s getting towards the kind of thing that would earn a visit from some kind of enforcer. They’d say the Empire is already that, and if you’re complaining about it, that’s the problem.”

Several months later, Commandant Vex felt like biting through his tongue.

Cadet 421 – cadet Skywalker – and his associated group of friends like Darklighter and Klivian were causing a lot of trouble. It was trouble that was… not the kind of trouble he’d feel comfortable telling a HoloNews channel was trouble, because it was all to do with the cadets earnestly saying that the Empire should be doing things the Empire was supposed to be doing already.

Under normal circumstances, he’d have gone ahead and placed the troublemakers into solitary confinement already – if not disappeared them, remanding them into the custody of Imperial Intelligence or the Internal Security Bureau to never again see the light of day.

The problem was, if that happened, Vex would never see the light of day.

He practically jumped out of his suit as the door to his office swished open.

“Commandant,” Vader said, without preamble. “I am taking several of your cadets for my own personal squadron. Effective immediately.”

“Oh, no,” Vex said, then remembered who he’d said that to. “I mean – just as you say, Lord Vader? Who?”

“Cadet Skywalker,” Vader said. “And anyone who he is closely associated with. Any friends of his. I will look over their scores myself before their transfer is finalized.”

Vex felt like sighing in relief.

He would have been considerably less happy about the situation if he knew that Vader’s reason for the transfer was to get the various cadets out of the academy before Imperial Intelligence or the ISB made the same connection he had.

But he didn’t know that, and what he didn’t know wasn’t going to get him sent to a black site for at least another three days.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for ZepysGirl; the wet nurse omegaverse. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

After a few minutes, Lois’s car finally turns onto the main road and pulls through the front gate, and tension visibly drains out of Clark’s shoulders. At this point, Bruce feels tension drain out of his own shoulders. Lois rolls up the long drive and parks directly in front of the steps, arching an eyebrow at them through her car window. Which–obviously she does that, yes. Neither of them have met her at the manor door before, much less outside the manor door. Much less together. 

“New candidate another bust?” she assumes resignedly as she gets out of the car, the corners of her mouth pulled just a little tighter than usual. It’s a fair assumption, under the circumstances. 

“No,” Clark says, and attempts to smile. “We actually–Chris feral-bonded with him, actually. He’s with him right now.” 

“He what?” Lois blinks in bewilderment, pausing in the middle of closing the car door. “That’s–then why do you both look like somebody just kicked your dogs?” 

Bruce doesn’t dignify that comment with a response, because he has better control of both his face and his pheromones than that and they all know it. Lois is just reading the distress off Clark, who she knows much better, and extrapolating his own state of mind from there. 

. . . besides, Ace isn’t that easy to kick. Obviously. 

“Chris pup-called when Clark was bringing him down to the parlor,” he says instead, phrasing it as carefully as he can to avoid upsetting Clark’s inner omega while still explaining the situation clearly to Lois. She’s more than intelligent enough to read between the lines, either way. “I think the feral bond might’ve triggered the moment the wet nurse heard him. He reacted . . . very noticeably, let’s say, even with it being a Kryptonian pup-call. And as soon as he had eyes on Chris, he went straight for him, took him out of Clark’s arms without asking or acknowledging him, and nursed Chris right there without even sitting down. Before we’d even looked at the contract, in fact, much less hired him. Which–well. Feral bond, so . . . not particularly surprising, there. And he’s a stray, apparently, so I doubt that helped.” 

“And Chris was good?” Lois asks, still looking bewildered. “I mean–he kept the milk down and all?” 

“So far, at least,” Bruce says. “We’ll have to see how it digests and how much nutritional benefit he actually gets from it, obviously, but . . .”

“He nursed Jon too,” Clark says, and it comes out–abrupt, perhaps. Abrupt and tight and almost blurted. 

Bruce did not avoid upsetting the other’s inner omega, clearly. 

“He what?” Lois says, staring at them. 

“Jon came into the parlor after the feral bond was established and the wet nurse offered him a snack,” Bruce clarifies, and doesn’t say a wet nurse who could practically pass for a younger version of your wife just took care of BOTH of your pups in a way your wife very literally CAN’T and they’re both currently off fawning over him, and Clark’s past trauma and terminal sense of responsibility are both having difficulty handling that fact, obviously. 

But, again, Lois is more than intelligent enough to read between the lines.

“Ah,” she says, blinking slowly.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for basically gaslighting my dad?

My (20X) dad (late 40s M) was diagnosed with brain cancer after they found a golf ball sized tumor in his head. They operated to get it out. For a while he was doing good, recovering shockingly well. Then the radiation therapy and chemotherapy happened, and it definitely had an ill effect on him.

Except... That's not what my mom (late 40s F) and I say to him. Obviously whenever he brings up things like struggling more with coordination, losing his apetite, or being fatigued, we take note of it — it would be stupid not to. But to his face, we downplay it. Things like "you need to rest more and you'll feel better". Or telling him his coordination isn't any worse than last week (sometimes this is true, sometimes this isn't). Or he'll bring up "I was able to do [xyz] last month", and we'll act as though he was already struggling with it sooner than he actually was, just to make it seem like he's not getting a lot worse recently.

I know it's fucked up. I can't speak for my mom, but I'm doing it because I don't want to discourage him. He's obviously dying, brain cancer is terminal and the odds were never in his favour — but I don't want to speed it up by affirming his fears and reducing his will to live. Assisted dying is legal where I live, and even though I'd support him if he chose it, I don't want to have to.

I don't know. I feel like I'm justified, but at the same time, my dad has the right to decide if he wants to keep living. And it's definitely fucked up that we don't validate the symptoms he says he has (we will always accommodate for them, but we don't necessarily verbally acknowledge them). AITA?

[manatee-rp-memes]

Transformers: MTMTE Sentence Starters

~Feel free to tweak as needed~

“All good things must come to an end, if there’s one thing in life I’ve learned it’s how to say goodbye and mean it.”

“You think that just because the war is over, we can afford to stop fighting!“

“Okay, so tell me what happened- in layman’s terms, please. The fewer syllables, the better. Science makes me twitchy. Too many rules.”

“Never stand next to a quantum generator when it’s about to flout the laws of physics.“

“So, who broke the rule?”

“I’m too smart to die!”

“Either it’s very far away, or you’ve invented the world’s smallest drink.”

“Don’t say I’m irritable. It really—it really irritates me.”

“One day you’ll say something nice to me—just before you tell me I’ve got a terminal illness or something.“

“Bottom line? I’ve got nothing else to lose.”

“Wow. If I’d known that was the best you’ve got, I’d have said something genuinely offensive.”

“Nice to meet you, loser!”

“But there’s always been a war! That’s like saying there’s no more blue or—or the weather’s stopped!”

“Nothing tingles like a teleport.”

“I was aiming for the other guy…! Obviously.”

“A senseless waste, a terrible tragedy. Boo hoo.”

“He promptly beat me to the brink of fade-out and left me in a critical condition.”

“But that’s a whole other story. Sorry—I always wanted to say that. That, and ‘Impossible! Our laserfire is just making him stronger!’ Ahem. Go on…”

“Please! I surrender! Don’t shoot!”

“MUTINY! Everywhere I look I see rules being stretched and laws being broken and protocols being dragged outside and kicked to death.”

“Maybe I have been taking things too seriously. Maybe I should try and… and… whatever. There’s a word for it.”

“Course I didn’t press it… but what if I had pressed it?”

“A metafictional bomb. It blows a hole in the fourth wall.”

“I can tell you pretty emphatically that none of this – none of this even approaches my definition of ‘okay’!"

"Listen to me. NEVER. HOPE. Hope is a lie.”

“That was a nasty fall. Need a hand?”

“Get the hell out of my bar.”

“Ah, enriched nucleon…! The magic ingredient!”

"You should really stop and listen to yourself sometimes.”

“Life’s messed up. I’m messed up. I’ve done bad things and I continue to do bad things, because the voice telling me not to…? He’s not said much for a while. And y'know what keeps me going? ANGER. Anger’s an insulator. Stops life getting too close. If I got myself 'fixed,' maybe the anger would leave me—and then I really would be screwed.“

"Your life is in the palm of my hand. Before I squeeze, I offer up one last shining truth…”

“If God were on your side you’d have stopped me by now! Will anybody pit their faith against mine?”

“I know, I know—I’m incorrigible.”

“Honestly? I think for an intuitive weapon to promote long discredited notions of moral absolutism is problematic in the extreme.”

“When did you first decide that the universe needed ‘dominating’?"

"My life is a succession of decisions made in confined spaces.”

“If you want to get the measure of an author, don’t look at what they’ve left on the page…. look at what they’ve taken away.”

“Information carries weight. It’s not corporeal, but it has presence. It can be felt. It hangs in the air like—like words. Like the morning after an argument! Actually, not like that. That’s a bad analogy. I’m distracted.”

“Shut up. Stop expecting things of me.”

“The war is over and, thankfully, we lost.”

“I’m confronting my own mortality! I’m having one of those—those existential crisises!”

“'Could!' The luxury of 'could!' I’m already dead!”

“If I sit next to you too long, am I going to die of smartass poisoning?”

“There’s a thin line between categorization and segregation, and I never want to see it crossed again.”

“If the world thinks you’re a monster, what does it matter? The world is wrong. But when you start to think of yourself as a monster…”

“Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

“Here’s a survival tip: When everyone’s lining up to make sacrifices… always get to the back of the queue.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret… I can do whatever the hell I like.”

“Maladies of the mind are easily hidden. We don’t want to see them. They remind us of our fragility.”

“You have two weapons at your disposal: your brain and your fists. You must be prepared to use both.”

"I’m fine. Bad dream, that’s all. My first flashback. These things’ll happen when you’ve got a head full of history.”

“This conversation is ridiculous. You are ridiculous. Everything that’s happened in the last few days is intensely ridiculous.”

“We’re all of us the sum of our experiences.”

“I know who I am, but I don’t necessarily know who I was. I find it hard to compare the two.”

“I want to tell you a story.”

“I’m trying to show concern. I’ve seen other people do it.”

“People don’t like me – they just laugh at my jokes. There’s a difference.”

“I hate you. As in, I actively hate you. I am in hate with you.”

“No one cares what you have to say~”

“I had a plan! Same plan as always: survive.”

“I order you to survive.”

“Nothing makes sense anymore.”

[filmofhybe]

airport buddies.

🥥 pairing : ot7 x oc! 8th member of enha • GENRE : fluff

WARNING: mention of food , crowding , pushing , Profanity

; AUTHORS NOTE : sudden thought of me being the 8th member of enhypen hit my brain while watching Golden Disc Award. And obviously credit to @srjlvr bc her 8th members works inspired me!

MASTERLIST TO MY OTHER WORK

정원 jungwon

as one of the members in the hyung line, jungwon as the leader, still keeps his eyes on you as fans would be crowding you guys despite them keeping a distance. Because you guys was once mopped at the terminal before and you got really injured, he would tell you to grab onto his bag as you walk towards the exit. He would sometimes tell you to link arms with him, and these sweet moments are captured by fans, speaking up about how attentive jungwon is about previous situations and how he cares about his members safety. You feel really safe around him and your glad he’s taking care of you. (You would also guide him through the crowd if it gets to chaotic.)

“y/n hold onto my bag so you don’t get lost.”

“wonnie I’m fine trust me.”

“no I don’t trust the crowd after what happened. You deserve to stay safe around me.”

“If you insist, but one day I would need to stop doing it because you won’t be with me.”

“DONT GO ALL SAD NOW.”

“IM NOT IM JUST SPEAKING THE-“

“you both shut up please I’m too tired for this argument every damn time.” Your manager chuckled as he watched both of you having the “I need to keep you safe!” Argument every time before stepping out of the terminal.

희 승 heeseung

He treats you to food before you guys board the plane. He knows your morning temper is horrible, having to wake up in early in the morning to get to the airport, than having to deal with flashing cameras before checking in already made your day ten times worse. So when you guys are waiting to bored the plane, he will treat you to something sweet, like a chocolate cookie along with a blueberry muffin. Or just anything you want. He cares about your health especially your body is still growing. (Sometimes you would reject his offer, however he would still buy it just in case you start complaining about how hungry you are on the plane)

“y/n~ let’s go get food shall we?”

“I would love to but I’m tired…” you sigh as you cuddle into your hoodie more, keeping yourself warm.

“come on, let’s go get some food before boarding, you can pick whatever you want.” He smiled as he noticed you jump out of your seat after what he said.

Walking towards a small café, you picked out a cookie and a refresher. Heeseung picked something for each member and himself before paying everything. He watches you munch on your cookie, smiling once again to know that all he needs to do to make you happy is food.

박종성 Park Jeongseong

MR DRAGS YOU ALONG TO SHOP. He’s the person to shop at those designer shop before boarding in his spare time. Even though he has good style, he would always drag you along with him. He thinks you giving him opinions about what he should get makes his purchases worth it. Like he had said before “y/n has better taste than I do, people may not admit it but she really does. I’m glad she is always willing to come shopping with me.” Despite you being so tired, you still enjoy walking around with him. You guys usually come out with around 3 bags of stuff. Fans always assume you both have some spending problem at the airport 😭

does this sweater look better than the other?” Jay placed the black sweater in front of him, holding the other color beside him as he switch in between the two.

“I like the navy blue more. It suits you better… it also matches the Prada sunglasses I got you.” You suggested as you grab the navy blue sweater. Placing in front of his torso.

“Nevermind i agree with you. My jawline stands out more.” He smirks, before trying to escape from your slapping.

“We get it park jeongseong you have sharp ass jawline now get your sweater.”

“Jesus Christ I enjoy shopping with you BUT NOT YOU HITTING ME?!?”

심재윤 Sim Jaeyun

The “I can’t stop gossiping” duo. Oh my gosh you both just can’t stop yapping the moment you step out of the van. Is like you guys are high school best friends talking about the latest gossips. You guys would link arms and whisper into each others ears, but laughing extremely loudly after what you heard from the other. Is the media pressed about your interactions? Sometimes (because they can’t take good pictures of the group without you both not talking) however they enjoy watching you both laughing your ass off to whatever your laughing about at 5 in the morning.

“no because I heard that he’s really bad at singing..” Jake whispers as he links his arms with you. Leaning into you as he tries to tell you the latest updates on the entertainment industry.

“No way I thought she was good enough to make it..”

“bitch he was like iM sUpER sHyYYy iM sUpeR sHY.” Jake intimates whoever he was talking about, making you both burst into laughter behind all your members. The members were confused on the sudden laughter. Who on earth laughs this much at 5 in the morning with camera flashes in their face.

“But who are we to judge…? I mean he tried at least.”

“Stop we can’t be rude at least he tried…”

“Keyword tried..”

The ones to say they shouldn’t be judging after gossiping about it😭 just too unserious

성훈 Sunghoon

The matching fit duo. You both somehow always have matching airport fits. Making favs believe you guys did it on purpose (sometimes). But both of you never complain about it. Because of how good both your stylist it, fans always try to take lots of pics of you when you guys are standing next to each other. But sometimes it’s the opposite, you would accidentally wear his shirt while he is uses your bag. And fans loves how you guys share each others items for time to time. (Ps. They love to question you guys.)

“y/nnie!! Where is your bag from?”

“I don’t know, sunghoon got it. It was the first bag I saw so I took it. I’m so sorry!”

“Is okay!! Sunghoon! Are you and y/nnie matching today?”

“We didn’t mean to match again today. It was by coincidence. Do you guys like it?” Fans started agreeing that they love your matching outfits. You both thanked them for noticing and were both flattered by how cute your fans are.

선우 Sunoo

THE SERVING CUNT DUO!! Because both of your age are really close to each other and you both have basically the same brain cell. You both constantly like to tease each other and laugh at each other. You guys do not care if it’s 12 at night that your at the airport, you guys would do the must random shit ever. Eg. A catwalk while linking arms, or writing on your phones pointing towards each other. “SUNOO SPILLED MY COFFEE.” “I DIDNT YOUR FOOT KICKED IT!!” Sigh the members are tired of you both but I guess they find it kinda funny as well.

“WHY ARE YOU TRYNA EXPOSE ME?!?” You asked sunoo as you watched the younger boy laugh at the message - “Y/N FORGOT TO WEAR SOCKS TODAY!!” On his phone. Ready for fans and media to see.

“YOU ARE EXPOSING ME TOO!?” he gasped as he reads yours - “SUNOO CRIED ON THE WAY HERE BECAUSE HE FORGOT HIS DITTO DOLL!!” You shrugged your shoulders as you quickly stepped out of the van before he can reach you.

Fans and the media captures this funny moment as your members silently laughs at how immature you both are. But they don’t complain at all.

にしむら りき Nishimura Riki

The mother and son duo. Being one of the oldest of the group, and you promising to take good care of Niki. You constantly make sure he is alright and his passport is kept safe with him. Fans starts taking notice that you would hold onto his passport after hd lost it once, and he is comfortable enough to hold onto your bag as you make your way through the crowd. Some even noticed that he would buy you medicine before boarding because he knows you get ill easily while traveling. Lots of people treasure your relationship dearly and they always appreciate how you take care of each other very well. (You take Care of other members as well but most of the time Niki because he’s the youngest.)

Fans and media captures a brief moment of Niki handing you his passport. “y/n can you hold onto my passport so I don’t lose it again?” He whispered beside you. Nodding as you take his passport into your hand.

He grabs onto your purse as you walked through the crowd of people. You would look back at him from time to time to make sure he is behind you. Grabbing his hand when it starts getting more chaotic. His grip is now tighter around you, you look back reassuring him that your here and he would be okay. “Niki is okay I’m here your fine. Your passport is safe as well don’t worry.” He can sense you smiling at him, even though your mask covers half of your face.

Fans was touched by both of your little interactions at the airport. Knowing Niki still relays on his older members even though he just turned 18. They know he is still a baby at heart and still need caring. And they thank you for taking care of him like he’s one of your owns.

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

networks ~ @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels @k-neighborhood

[charliegyrth]

Alex Gets Soft - Part 2

Some Bread to Calm His Stomach

Read Part 1 here.

In hindsight, loading up on so much dairy was a very bad idea. His stomach gurgled all the way home. I drove, while he sat in the passenger’s seat with his head down and his arms wrapped around his torso.

When we got inside, he took a bunch of Tums. That helped a little, but he was still in pain.

“We need a plan,” he mumbled.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like, an eating plan. I—hic!—don’t want ice cream ever again.”

I guided him into the shower. He pulled off his board shorts. He’d already untied the strings (not sure when), so they just dropped onto the floor.

The hot water washed off all the streaks of strawberry pink and chocolate brown from his skin. He rubbed slow circles on his distended stomach, moaning in both pain and satisfaction.

Once he got out and dried himself, he walked back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. He didn’t bother putting on any clothes. He immediately passed out, with one hand on his belly.

It was so freaking cute.

***

Alex woke up a few hours later, a new spring in his step. I was cleaning up our living room, and he walked right over. “All digested!” he declared.

“Are you… Are you sure?”

“Yup!”

His stomach was no longer gurgling (thank God). In fact, it wasn’t even bloated anymore.

God, he had the metabolism of the Terminator.

I looked closely at his naked body. One binge obviously wasn’t going to change anything, but I at least expected his stomach to still be a little distended. It wasn’t. His abs weren't as defined as usual, but his whole torso was once again flat.

“How do you feel?”

“Still a bit cramped,” he said. “Do we have any bread? Maybe that’ll help soak everything up.”

That was a good idea. I ran into the kitchen and brought back the three loaves that we had in the breadbox. Sourdough, wheat, and white. I didn’t know which one he wanted.

His eyes widened. “You really think I can finish all three?”

That was not what I thought. At all. I assumed he’d take a slice or two, just to settle his stomach.

When I didn’t answer, he took all three back to the couch, sitting exactly where he’d taken his nap. He opened the white bread and took a slice. After he chewed and swallowed his first two bites, he leaned back and groaned. “Ugh. That feels better.”

I doubt that it did.

He ate much slower now, and with smaller bites, but he finished three slices of the white bread.

“You sure you have room for that?” I asked.

“Course! It’s soaking up the lactose!”

He finished half the white bread before he switched to sourdough. What started as a way to relieve the last of his stomach pain had turned into a second gorging session. I could see it on his face. This wasn’t helping him digest anything. This was another challenge to his metabolism.

I sat next to him. “Is this really making you feel better?”

“Of course!” he lied. But he kept shoving more slices into his mouth. “After all that ice cream, it’s nice to eat something solid.”

He got into a rhythm, eating half a slice with one bite and then taking a second bite before the first was fully chewed. Back when he was eating ice cream, he was able to talk at the same time. Now, he couldn’t.

“You want some water?”

He answered me, but I couldn’t make out the word.

“Is that a yes?”

He took time to swallow. “Soda.”

“Okay. Sure.”

I went back into the kitchen to see what we had. Neither of us drank soda, but we always kept a couple in the pantry in case of guests.

I found a pair of two-liter Coke Zero bottles and another two-liter of regular Coke. I figured Alex would prefer the regular one. As I grabbed it, Alex shouted something else from the other room. I couldn’t make it out.

“Swallow and tell me again!” I shouted back.

After a second: “Mayonnaise!”

“What?”

“Mayonnaise! The bread is too dry now.”

I grabbed an unopened jar of mayo and a butter knife and returned to my gorging boyfriend. I worried that if I handed the jar to him directly, he’d just use his fingers to scoop it into his mouth. That was just too much. So I placed it on the table, just out of his reach.

“Prehn fa muh,” he mumbled.

“Babe, I can’t understand you.”

He gulped down. “Spread for me. Please.”

He wanted me to spread mayo on the remaining bread slices.

This was getting way out of hand. Alex was going to seriously screw up his stomach. He’d push himself to the point of throwing up, and then all this eating would be for nothing.

“I don’t think…”

“Please,” he said. He bright blue eyes locked on me. He smiled, his cheeks still bulging with the latest slice.

“Okay.”

I look a slice of wheat and slathered on a thin layer of mayo.

He stopped eating and uncapped the soda. “Don’t skimp.”

So I added a bit more mayo. I looked at his expression, like a waiter at an Italian restaurant gauging how much pepper to grind onto a salad. I kept adding mayo until he gave me a short nod. By that point, there was more mayonnaise than bread.

He went back to chugging on the soda.

I added an equal amount of mayo to the remaining slices. It was genuinely disgusting. Alex couldn’t possibly be enjoying this. He didn’t even like mayo.

He chugged a quarter of the soda before placing it, still uncapped, next to him on the couch. Then he leaned forward to grab his first slice of the mayo-coated bread. He couldn’t reach the table anymore. “Babe?” He patted the cushion next to him.

I sat.

Then he waited, his mouth half open, one hand draped over his stomach.

So yeah, I guess I was feeding him now. I brought a slice to his lips and he ripped off his first bite. He swallowed loudly and waited for me to give him more.

After the second slice, his lips were shiny with mayonnaise.

“Does this really taste good?” I asked him as he pulled the rest into his mouth.

“Can’t really taste anything,” he answered as he chewed. Somehow, I was able to understand his words. I guess I was getting used to hearing him talk with his mouth full.

He finished another slice before he took a break to drink more soda. Then he set the bottle back down and waited for me to continue.

At some point, I realized that my free hand was rubbing gentle circles around his slightly bulging belly. I didn’t know when that started.

He whimpered softly. His eyes were closed and his head was leaning back. “How many more?”

“You want to stop?”

“How many more?” he repeated.

I looked at the table. “Six more slices. All wheat. You don’t have to…”

“Babe, they’re covered in mayo. They’ll go bad if I don’t finish.”

Even though his eyes were squeezed tight and his body looked like it was sapped of all energy, he needed me to help him finish.

So I did. Rubbing and feeding.

I reached toward the table for another slice, but none remained. He’d eaten three full loaves of bread all by himself.

The soda was finished, too. I have no idea how or when he did that.

I kept rubbing circles on his stomach, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled.

I tried to be gentle as I pulled him to his feet. He stood for a second, a little woozy, and he leaned on me as we walked toward the guest bathroom. (It was closer.)

He was in there for a while. I wanted to talk to him through the door, to ask if he was okay, but I decided to let him do his business in private.

Thirty minutes later, he walked out, still naked, still bloated around the middle, but no longer exhausted. “All good!” he exclaimed.

“Jesus. Seriously?”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost 11:00.”

“You haven’t had dinner, have you?”

No. And I was not at all hungry. Seeing all that mayonnaise… God, it was disgusting. And streaks of it were still covering his face, invisible except for a glossy sheen on his chin and right cheek. He’d washed his hands in the bathroom, but he hadn’t washed his face

“No dinner for me, thanks.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna order some Chinese if you change your mind.”

“What?”

“I haven’t had any real food, man. Just bread and ice cream. My stomach can’t handle too much, so I won’t order a lot.”

He did.

Read Part 3 here. You can also read all 22 parts of Alex Gets Soft in one ebook (with a bonus story). And you can find all my stories here.

[missshinazugawa]

The Despair of Humanity - Mouthwashing

In the long river of life, despair is like a dark abyss that swallows up light and hope. A suffocation of the soul, an inescapable shackle that makes people feel powerless. What exactly is despair?

Is it watching someone that is close to you get into an accident and being incapable to do anything? Or is it being diagnosed with a terminal illness and facing inevitable death and incurable pain, feeling hopeless about life? Or is it the spaceship that is drifting in the outer space without one knowing, and you can only wait for the rescue that may never come?

As far as we know from this scene after Curly taken Jimmy's psychological evaluation, it is implied that Jimmy's life on Earth seems quite difficult, and he was surprised that Curly, who brought him into this industry, could master the position as the captain of Pony Express spaceship. Jimmy have always heard Curly being praised as a good leader, but such achievements could not really satisfy Curly.

Jimmy longed for more and wanted to pursue higher goals. Curly thought that staying in the position of captain was just a confinement for him. This made Jimmy confused, because for him, Curly had reached the top of his life, why would he still have such an idea.

The only explanation is that Curly is standing at the top of the ladder and began to reflect on his choices, while Jimmy is still on the difficult road to climb and cannot understand the other's suffering.

However, the bigger the achievement, the bigger the responsibility.

Two months after the crash, Jimmy heard Curry's painful groans that pierced his mind like a needle, making him upset. He felt that everyone looked at him strangely, and he was also annoyed that Curly made him take on the responsibility of being the captain.

Isn't this the position that he wants? Why is he being upset such thing? I thought you wanted to achieve a higher achievement and apparently reach the top of your life and be a better man than Curly?

Take responsibility.

What exactly is responsibility?

The idea of ​​"taking responsibility" came to Jimmy's mind. He seemed to feel the pressure that landed on Curly. (As he should, he deserves stress, padan muka.) As the captain, he had to take all the responsibilities.

Jimmy had already fallen into despair. He felt pessimistic about the future of this journey and even began to think about the possibility of remaining in the memory of others in a tragic way.

What a dumb idea.

Jimmy is obviously jealous of Curly's success and thinks he wants to abandon everyone and have his own bright future. Ironically, Jimmy cannot handle the responsibility and after realizing the burden of being a captain, he puts all the problems on others.

The most devastating part is when Jimmy was faced with a life-threatening mission, he himself did not have the courage to complete it himself, and instead pushed the young man Daisuke to his death. Convincing Daisuke to crawl up the vent instead of himself, using the excuse of Daisuke could make Swansea proud.

And of course, Daisuke did not make it.

Jimmy also pushed Curly to take the blame of crashing the ship and got into a tragic injuries, skinning Curly alive and taking away his limbs.

Jimmy lacked the courage to take responsibility. The crown of "responsibility" was never truly worn by him because of his cowardice. Because of his incapability to face the blow of losing his job and also wants to escape the responsibility of being a father after he assaulted Anya and found out she is pregnant, plus the jealousy he had on Curly's success, it leads to his decision to give his life by crashing the ship, only focusing on himself rather than the others future. Maybe he thought they all going to lose the job anyway, why not take them down with him too?

But does he know there are so many ways to get through all of these life challenges instead of just crashing the ship? No.

Instead, he as a GROWN MAN, sitting outside the cockpit, curled up in fear.

What a FUCKING COWARD.

In Jimmy's delusion, a method to fix all this, is by freeing everyone with death. In my mind, Jimmy still does not realize or even regretting his actions, rather blaming all of it as an “accident.”

The most insane part that I think about is that:

The so-called "fixing everything" is actually Jimmy returning the responsibility to "Captain" Curly. At the beginning, Jimmy cut off part of Curly's leg, symbolizing that he had took the responsibility. However, when he made Curly eat his own flesh, I feel like it implied that Jimmy had returned the responsibility back to him. Jimmy's act of saving the captain was just an illusion to avoid possible future responsibilities. From beginning 'till the end, Jimmy was avoiding all responsibilities. On the surface, he wanted to be a hero and save Curly, but the truth is, he could not bear all the responsibilities and crimes for this “accident” if he were to successfully rescued in 20 years. So he let Captain Curly, who tried to save everything, bear everything in the future.

By putting Curly in the cryo pod, maybe someday in the future when Curly get rescued, Jimmy who unalived himself would not face any charges of losing billions of dollars of the mouthwash stock, the accusations of killing all crewmates or intently crashing the ship into a meteor.

The core of this tragedy is Jimmy pushed all the problems to others under the illusion of salvation instead of really taking responsibility.

Curly said something:

“Those who escaped did not benefit, so he always tried not to escape from life but to face it.”

Which obviously, Jimmy did not get any benefit in the ending, he escapes future responsibility with death.

I would like to think that Curly himself also somehow escaped his responsibility and ignore/dismisses at the fact that Jimmy did so many horrible things. The accident decide to take his right eye since he cannot seem to see what is right. Now he cannot close his remaining eye but forced to see everything that happens infront of him. Seeing everyone died must be heartbreaking and traumatic, but maybe it is a form of punishment that he chose the wrong friend to trust with, blinded by the fact Jimmy is his bestfriend and neglected his other friend Anya. His wrong choice lead to this tragedy.

This game really shows the fragility of human nature and the sinisterness of society. When faced with difficulties, do people gain the courage and willingness to take responsibility? It shows the importance of mentality and choices when facing adversity. Even when facing the same difficulties, different outlooks on life will lead to different outcomes.

The idea of responsibility is definitely inescapable, everyone was born with it, all of us have different responsibilities. We cannot escape it, the only thing we could do it to try our best to complete it, after that we would manage to finish the task and be freed.

I wanna talk more, but now it is 3am for me, I'm having a headache too so see yall next post lol.

FUCK JINKI POO, JUSTICE FOR WHOLE CREW.

YOU GO SWANSEA

im not even gonna tag that rapist, killer

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)Chapter 10, In Which You Get A Warning (Received Loud and Clear)

AO3

"…Our sincerest apologies for the unexpected delay…” 

“….We kindly request that you approach the office for guidance and help if you are lost and unsure where to go…” 

"…The next station is..."

“….regarding any missed connections…" 

"...Terminal station. We urge all passengers to disembark before it’s too late…" 

****

If someone asked you how you got home, you couldn't really say. Half the time you slept on the train, half the time you waited in some dingy station for your missed connection, and half the time (can you still count?) you tried not to look at your phone, not to look at the billboards, not to look at the faces of the people next to you - God knows you don't want to see any more infernal creatures or Twin Peaks cameos. 

Raul called you ten more times and then stopped, about two hours ago, and his silence was even more frightening than his insistence.

Although you often dreamed of your hometown, you never really enjoyed returning to it. The journey itself was a painful ordeal - a train, then a bus, followed by a twenty-minute walk. Besides, you always felt...

Somehow lost in time and space there. The world moved on to the information age, but the town never did. A good two thirds of the population still went to St Martin's Church (the main and only attraction within a thirty kilometre radius) and the other third were Protestants. 

Your mother's house was in the shitty part of town that was becoming a little more decent with gentrification, but it was still a pain to get there without a driving licence (you'd promised to get one since you were eighteen and never got around to it). 

Then you saw it; the house you grew up in, the jaundice-yellow bricks, the Catholic cross above the door, the inscription 20+C+M+B+24 scattered across its facade, two rose beds, the old school garden gnome and, in the narrow driveway…

A red Lamborghini. Further down the road, two armoured jeeps (much too large for the driveway, and thus rudely obstructing the narrow cobbled street).

How did he...

How did he know who your mother was? Where she lived?

You must call the police. 

No, you don't. Don't be absurd.

Take a breath.

What the hell are the police going to do?

Wait. Yes, of course Raul knows where she lives. You made a transfer. A large transfer from Raul's account to Franziska Berger's. Your mother has an account at the local savings bank. It should have been easy from there.

How did he know you would go to her?!

He knows you have nowhere else to go.

And if he didn’t, Raphael for sure did.

No, not your mum. Not your mum. That's just a dirty fucking game, that's against the rules. Not. Your. Mum. 

She did nothing at all.

“Ms Berger!" a voice thundered, and you had to swallow down the fear that begged you to bolt back down the street.

Yurgir was sprawled across the steps, his hulking mass barricading your path to the front porch and door. He gave you a little greeting wave. He obviously could not enter the house: not because of the inscription on the door, but because he could not physically fit through the doorway. 

You thought of nothing better than to wave back. "You took your sweet time getting here, Ms Berger!" Yurgir said, chomping down on one of those apple puffs that your mum always baked when you were due for a visit. 

There were pastry flakes all around him already.

Jens was there too. He flicked a lazy salute in your direction, his tail mirroring his hand. You stared at him. The only thing scarier than a cambion with a pistol strapped to his belt was a cambion with a pistol strapped to his belt who had also spent five years in Syria and was munching on your mum’s apple puff.

Your poor mum must have been petrified to see these creatures at her door.

"My train was late," you forced yourself to say. "I missed my connection because of it, and then the other one was late too."

You had no idea why you apologised for being late for an appointment you never fucking made.

Yurgir scoffed and shook his head with a grunt. "The world has gone to hell in a handbasket, Ms Berger. In my day the trains..."

Jens cut Yurgir off before he could continue with his nostalgic tangents. "You could have called us from the station, Ms Berger. We tried to reach you. Repeatedly. Something with your phone?"

He scratched the bridge of his nose with his claw, and you noticed that he was obviously married. There are some very brave women in this world.

You, on the other hand, were not.

"Out of charge", you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “Don't worry. I like trains”.

"I'm sorry I missed you back at your place, Mrs Berger. I could have taken you to your mother's right away," Jens said, tail swishing, his yellow-red eyes never leaving you. "Won't happen again, I assure you."

You felt a desperate urge to take your mum's puff away from Jens, because he certainly didn't deserve it. 

"Is Raul inside?" Your voice wavered slightly at the mention of his name. "With my mum? Is she... is she OK?"

Please.

Jens flashed a grin while Yurgir looked at you with what might have been sympathy or pity - it was hard to tell.

"Ms Berger," he said in what must have been his gentlest voice, "I've been on Mr. D'Avergni's payroll since I got out of the slammer, and let me tell ya - despite all the bullshit people say about him, he's a good guy. One of the few left in this screwed up world."

You wondered if by 'good', he meant by maximum security prison standards because that's where you assumed Yurgir had done time. 

Hopefully Nessa had no real-life equivalent because zoophilia is definitely where you draw the line.

You hoped you could still draw them.  

"No matter what tiffs you two have had, he ain't the type to lay a hand on your mother or you," Yurgir said. "Trust me, I seen plenty of dames come and go in his life, but none of them had him wrapped around their finger like you do."

Jens let out a small scoff; either didn't appreciate the message or disagreed with it.

"I'm flattered," was all you could muster. 

You noticed that your neighbour from the house on the left was staring at the scene from her kitchen window. Miss Braun, was it? Newly widowed and bored out of her mind. Oh, she was having a hell of a day already. 

"You should be," Yurgir agreed heartily, glad to have imparted some wisdom to you. "There's a whole line of gals like you dying for his attention."

"Can I go see my mum, please?" you asked, hating how your voice sounded so childish. 

But there was no way around it - literally - with Yurgir blocking the way. He sighed and shifted slightly to the side, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze through (you fought back the dark urge to reach out and touch his horns). As you passed by, you caught Jens' reflection in the glass door; he was twirling a clawed finger around his temple and mouthing "cuckoo" at Yurgir.

It bothered you less than it should have.

***

The kitchen was pure chaos, thanks to your mother, who had become a one-woman cooking show. She was taking something out of the oven and shoving something else into it at the same time, all while making sure Raul’s cup of coffee was filled to the brim. 

Raul was sitting on the same kitchen table where you used to eat your cereal before school. His coffee was served in your mother's special guest cup (the finest porcelain with little angels on it, usually secured to collect dust in the cabinet), an array of apple puffs on a large plate, accompanied by fresh milk and an apple saucer. An absurdly large bouquet of pink tulips and carnations (must be his gift, your mother would have never bought something so over the top) formed the centrepiece.

"Anya!" Your mother exclaimed as soon as she spotted you and wrapped you in a tight hug. "Anya! Finally! My goodness, could you please charge your phone once in your life? Raul tried to call you God knows how many times! Christ!"

You were momentarily stunned, trying to decipher how you'd become the villain here.

"I'm sorry, Mom," you apologised. "And good morning, Raul. I didn't… I didn’t think to see you here."

He gave you a tight-lipped smile. He looked immaculate, for he must have slept three hours at most; decked out in a beige cashmere turtleneck and navy slacks, his chestnut hair slicked back. He looked perfectly human; more human than he ever did.

"Good morning, piccola," Raul said after taking a bite. "I certainly didn't expect to find myself here either. Not that I am complaining - Mrs Berger, as God is my witness - I've never had better apple puffs, and I've been to the best patisseries in the world."

"Franziska," your mother twittered, pushing a plate with two more puffs towards him. "These are Anya's favourite. I make them every time she finally decides to grace me with her presence. Just apples, sugar, dough, and cinnamon... Simple and budget-friendly. We had to be frugal when she was little..."

You had to be frugal when you grew up as well. 

"Well, that's all behind us now, Mrs. Berger," Raul said. "You have my word." 

Your mother blushed and muttered something along the lines of "oh, oh, don't be absurd, we're not in need of anything."

What a fucking nightmare. At least she didn't seem scared even though she damn well should be.

"Had I known you were visiting, Raul," your mother prattled on, "I would have prepared something special. And cleaned up, good Lord, the mess you had to see in here!"

You could eat off your mother's floor. She grabbed a brush and began furiously scrubbing away nonexistent dust from the floor.

"No need for that, Franziska," Raul interjected. "It's pristine here. Had I known I'd have to meet you today, I would've been more formal rather than barging in uninvited. How terribly impolite of me."

Your mom giggled again; you wouldn't be surprised if she asked him to call her Franzi next. She even seemed younger in Raul's presence. They were the same age, the two of them. They could have been your mum and dad.

You shuddered at the thought. 

“You truly have a house of God here, Franziska”, Raul mused, staring at the altar at the wall; Crucifix, Pieta statue, the rosary book, the prayer candles (lit, for your sake, it must be). Not really helping, mum.

"Oh, I'm afraid He was always the only man in this house," your mother quipped. "The only one to protect us."

Raul chuckled in response. "Not anymore. Funny enough, Anya told me she wasn't religious."

He could have as well put a hit mark on your forehead.

“Anya, I worried myself sick because of you!”, your mother flared up.”Raul said that you stormed out in the middle of the night for no reason! Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you even watch the news? There are so many dangerous people out there nowadays!”

Raul remained silent, taking a bite from his apple puff pastry while his eyes stayed locked onto you.

“A lot of dangerous people out there”, you admitted.

"I assumed there wasn't any particular reason," Raul murmured as he stared you down, “I wasn’t given an opportunity to clarify, unfortunately. And if there was some valid reason behind it all, I wanted to offer my sincere apologies and rectify the situation.”

That was not what his last text message sounded like.

Your mum shot you a look that screamed "Isn't he just wonderful?" before hurrying off to fetch another batch of apple puffs from the oven. It seemed like she was cooking enough food to feed Raul's entire crew, judging by the size of that stew pot.

“Could we have a moment in private, Anya?”, Raul asked, and you felt a cold chill creep up your spine. You took an instinctive step back and remembered that Yurgir and Jens were outside. “If you allow, Franziska. I don’t want to overstep”.

She was not even looking at the two of you, she was adding salt and vinegar to the pot.

“Of course! I’ll go check with the boys and leave you two to talk things through”, your mum smiled. “Anya, darling, I tidied up your room. It’s all guest-ready!”.

Outside, "the boys" were smoking and laughing about something. You remember a “no boys allowed” rule for your room, and for the first time in your life, you wouldn’t have minded it. 

“Anya, remember: adults talk to each other, they do not slam doors and run away.”, your mum whispered as she brushed past you. “And for God’s sake, did you comb your hair today at all? Why are you wearing mismatched socks? Anya.”

“Socks?! Who the hell even…”

“Tut, Anya, don’t be rude to your mother”, Raul (or was it Raphael? Please, let it be Raphael. Tut was such a Raphael thing to say) chided, gently pushing you towards the stairs. Your room was located upstairs, and you couldn't help but wonder if your mother had given him a tour of the house. “Lead me to your room. I’m very eager to hear all about your late-night adventures."

Oh, fuck.

you don’t work for Interpol you don’t work for them you have no idea about anything you did fucking nothing

You quickly climbed up, feeling him follow you every step. He didn't utter a word until you swung open the door to your room.

It was far from being guest-ready; hell, even you weren't ready for it. 

Albert Wesker glared down from his poster above your bed, sunglasses and all; Mr. Bubbles lay sprawled on faded pink sheets - where on earth did your mother find those? Books on the shelves, one worse than another: The Mortal Instruments, A Court of Thorns and Roses, The Hunger Games. Oh, thank God, Kafka’s Metamorphosis (your A-Levels literature exam demanded his presence). A photo of you in Alice: Madness returns cosplay (looking back now, it wasn't the greatest quality cosplay). JoJo poster (JOJO POSTER?! Why did your mom even let you hang that up?). Oh yes, your mum tried to mitigate the horrors in the room with the cross on the wall.

You closed your eyes shut. 

Guest-fucking-ready. Fucking disgrace. Raul might as well kill you now, so you don’t have to live with this memory.

"How… charming," Raul's gaze raked over every mortifying detail with a predatory interest. "Who's the tough guy on the wall? Should I be worried?"

If Albert Wesker was to ever make an appearance, you vowed to swallow a bullet right then and there.

"No," you choked out. "Not the one you should worry about."

 Raul walked towards the bed (took him two steps), picking up Mr. Bubbles and giving him a twirl. 

You fought to keep your breathing steady, and you were losing the fight. The room felt claustrophobic, like a bargain bin flower scented death trap.

You did not work for Interpol. You did nothing for Interpol. You just went home for a little break. That’s your whole story. Repeat: you did not work for Interpol…

You desperately wanted to call out for Raphael - some form of help or protection - but you couldn’t bring yourself to call Raul by Raphael's name.

"Raul, please," your voice barely audible, "Don't harm my mum. I swear on my life I'm not with Interpol. This is all just a..."

"...Coincidence. Right. One coincidence after another”. Raul interrupted curtly as he gently placed Mr Bubbles back onto the bed. "Anya, take a seat."

“I can explain, I swear to God…”

"Sit down, I said," he ordered again; his tone brooked no argument.

Your body betrayed you, responding instinctively to Raphael's commanding voice, like Pavlov’s dog to a bell. With no sofa available, you perched on the edge of your bed with Raul looming above you with his arms crossed.

"Anya. Stop looking at me like I'm about to dice you and your mother up for a stew."

His words, his tone, his clenched jaw did nothing to alleviate your terror; the very opposite, they did their best to freak the shit out of you.

Before you could gather some response, he continued: “What have I done to deserve this fear from you, Anya? Have I ever given you a reason?”

You flinched as you rubbed at the red bruises on your neck, hidden under a thick scarf. Was he bloody serious? He’d given you more than a couple of reasons. 

“Ah,” he sighed. “I see. Last night. Even if I may have… if things may have gotten a bit too intense, it was you who begged for me to do anything I wanted. So don't hit me with this 'MeToo’ crap now. Did you or did you not say those exact words, Anya? I don’t need a stop word, I want you to fuck me?”.

"I...I did," you said slowly. "I guess? But…”

"You guess." He parroted back. “Ever thought about owning up to your actions?”

You cowered even further into the wall.

"Did you?” Your voice turned hoarse. “Your text yesterday: 'You owe me an explanation and it better be damn good.' Then you wonder why I'm terrified of you? For all I know, you get off on me fearing you. Because I am no fucking match for you, or your money, or your power. And you know that. And you like that."

He damn sure liked that, leering all over you terrified in the corner like that. 

Raul fell silent, his expression unreadable for a moment before he finally spoke up.

"The text had its reasons," he said. "I could not understand why you... ran off from my place when we were getting along so well. Then I discovered who was coming over to yours. Then you ignored me. Repeatedly”.

He walked over to the window, running a hand through his hair. He paused for a moment before speaking again.

"I felt betrayed, Anya," he confessed, the words obviously costing him. “Believe me, it takes a lot to wound me. But you managed.”

“I don’t work for Interpol, I told you”, you repeated. “I told them to fuck off”.

Raul stared at the back garden for a while.

"I know," he said quietly. "We would be having a very different conversation otherwise. A very different one indeed."

You breathed out for what felt like the first time since you entered the house. 

“I have an insider in HQ”, Raul said. “I was informed that you told them – in very plain and harsh terms - you would never conspire against me”.

“I wouldn’t”, you breathed out. “I wouldn’t, of course I wouldn’t, not ever, what did you think?”.

Raul's expression softened slightly as he turned to face you once again.

“And why is that?”, he asked. “Because you fear me? Or because you actually have feelings for me?”

Now, Anya, focus: don’t say anything stupid and don’t do anything unhinged.

“Can’t it be a little of both?” you suggested.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Raul's lips before disappearing just as quickly.

“And why do you fear me more than Interpol?” he mused as he walked back towards you. “I am a corporate lawyer for all you know”.

"I'm not stupid, Raul."

"Indeed, you're not," he replied. "You're astonishingly well-informed.”

“Interpol wouldn't send a commando of armed men to my mother's house."

"For my protection, not to intimidate you," Raul laughed off the accusation. “Unless you seriously think I need a full-blown commando team to subdue you. On that note… Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for your permission, he plopped down next to you on your bed, the pale pink sheets crinkling under his weight. His knee brushed against yours in what seemed like a casual accident.

“Gattina,” he prodded gently, laying his hand on your knee and giving it a light squeeze. “Enlighten me. What did you do to that Interpol team? They were left disarrayed, or so I heard. How did you manage that?”

Do not say anything unhinged, Anya.

“I don’t know”, you said. “I honestly don’t know. They just… ran”.

Raul looked at you, and his hand reached out to gently cup your cheek. His breath smelled like sugar mint and cinnamon and applesauce, with just a hint of tobacco somewhere in the background.

“Come on, love”, Raul said softly. “A little honesty. Do you really not know what happened there?”

“I don’t fully understand what happened there, let’s put it this way”.

“Let me help you”, Raul said. “I might have an idea”.

“Yeah?”, you asked, thoroughly relieved that he had cooked some wild theory himself.

“You have… a talent, Anya”, he said. “An uncanny ability to sway people; it's like you have them under your spell. First with Konstantin, now with the squad, and before that... with me. I didn’t find you in my bed, and I felt like… I felt like my world was going to end. I cancelled all my meetings, I took a day off work – I… truly do not know how to describe that to you”.

Then he kissed you, his lips pressing against yours, softly first, more insistently when you yielded and opened your mouth for his tongue, and you didn't resist because, well, it seemed like a really stupid idea, and you didn't want him to get angry again, and it wasn't a bad kiss at all.

“I mean it when I say that I love you”, he whispered in your ear, now lying almost completely on top of you. "And for once in my life," he added quietly, "I think I truly mean it."

Maybe Raphael had taken over him now. 

Maybe these were Raphael's words spoken through Raul.

Either way, it was the nicest he or Raphael had ever been to you, and you wanted it to stay that way while you tried to figure out... what to do next. 

“What I know is that there is something very, very special in you”, Raul whispered against your lips. “One of a kind.”.

Special. One of a kind.

There was never anything special about the teenage girl sleeping in this bed. At least you didn’t see that, and never believed anyone ever would. 

Yet the devil did think you are special enough.

“And I do think you feel something for me, too”, Raul went on, his fingers caressing your cheek. “Despite you having this idea of me as some scary, scary guy, some kind of evil demon… I assure you, I am not. Now tell me, honestly now, why did you run away from me last night?”.

You wondered who Raul was and how he was without Raphael’s influence. Was he as charismatic and soft-spoken as he appears now? Would you have liked him even a little bit if it wasn’t Raphael eyes looking at you now? 

And would he have even given you a second glance?

Probably not.

Should you…?

“Raul”, you said. “There is no way I can give you any answer to this question without sounding completely crazy, so I won’t even bother”.

“Well, no offence, Anya, but that’s how you….” His words were abruptly cut short. 

His face contorted as if an invisible hand had ripped his skull from his head, a sudden pain seizing him, and he rolled away from you. His expression changed to something far less human.

"Don't breathe another word to him, mouse," he whispered, his voice a whole octave lower now.

"What?" you gasped. “Raphael?”

"Not another word to the human," Raul snapped through clenched teeth, mad jealousy in his voice, his hand flying to his forehead as if to physically stop the pain. “This… bloody… house”.

Raul shook off Raphael's intrusion with a vehemence that was palpable, a fierce determination in his eyes.

"Merda... Merda," Raul grunted. "Just... just give me a moment. It's... damn." 

You watched as he staggered away from you and towards the bathroom off your room. The sound of rushing water filled the silence he left behind.

You heard the rustle of something being hastily retrieved, followed by a hard swallow echoing through the quiet room - clearly forced and without any liquid aid. Curiosity got the better of you and you looked out just in time to see him hunched over the basin.

"It's all right," came Raul's strained voice. "Just... just give it a minute or two. It'll be better soon enough." 

Your hand reached out instinctively, tracing the curve of his luxurious cashmere turtleneck.

"Thank you, darling." He paused for a moment: "What did you want to tell me? I am inclined to believe it no matter how crazy it might be."

Your brain scrambled like a rat in a maze to find a way out of this conversation that wouldn't upset either of them, but came up empty-handed.

"When did your headache start?" you finally managed to say, trying to buy yourself some time to think. "When you met me?"

"What?", Raul frowned. "No. Nothing to do with you. It started long before that. I already told you; when my father died. What did you want to tell me, Anya?"

His nose was bleeding; he put out a handkerchief to wipe it. 

"How did he die?"

"Why?", Raul's demeanor shifted abruptly into something icy. Your question had thrown him off balance. "What an odd thing to ask about.”

Was it really? Considering Raul's age, perhaps. 

"He died as no Catholic should," he finally said, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip. "Especially one as devout as he was. He hanged himself. Why are you asking all this?"

You swallowed and took a step back.

"What in God’s name is going on?" His voice wavered between anger and confusion.

His question remained unanswered. A distant sound interrupted him, something like a bag of bowling balls tumbling down the stairs. Then, a woman's soft cry.

Raul gave you a quick, surprised look.

You ran down the stairs first, overtaking him in your haste.

Not your mother, please not your mother, please not her...

The front door was wide open and there she was - your mother - crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, just below the front porch, her leg swelling rapidly around the ankle, little cubes of cheese and grapes scattered around. Jens got to her before you and was already inspecting her, his claws hovering over the ankle. 

Nausea struck you.

"Mum," you gasped as you dropped to your knees beside her. "Mum, what happened? Does it hurt? Jens, what the fuck have you done to her?"

"Excuse me?" Jens snapped back.

"No, Anya, I... I'm sorry," she whimpered between sobs. "I was bringing the boys some cheese snacks and then I just... saw something... I think... I lost my balance."

"What did you see, Franziska?" Raul's voice cut through her sobs like a scalpel. "Some damn… some damn bizarre timing."

Jens looked up from his examination and shot Raul a puzzled look.

"Nothing," she replied with an attempt at a laugh that came out more as a wheeze. "Sometimes I get dizzy spells... low blood sugar... this new juice diet isn't helping... Oh God, I'm so sorry, it's all just..."

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Raul's knuckles blanch as he clenched his fist, though his face remained a mask of concern.

"It looks like a sprain, not a fracture." Jens murmured under his breath. "No need to get worked up”.

Raul exhaled heavily next to you, as if he had been holding his breath all the time.

"Let the professionals have a look," Raul offered, kneeling beside your mother. "May I help you up, Franziska? Don't worry Jens, I got this. She's light."

"No...don't..." you managed to whisper. "Don't...touch her..."

"What?" Raul asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "Anya, trust me, I can handle this."

"Oh no, Raul," your mother protested weakly as he picked her up in his arms. "I don't want to bother you, it's so embarrassing..."

Something inside you snapped at her words. "Mum! For God's sake! They came into your house uninvited! They..."

"Anya!" She shot back with an unexpected ferocity, considering she was still sobbing a few moments ago. "Watch your language! And show some respect for people who are trying to help!"

"The nearest hospital is the university clinic," Jens said.

"God save us from public health care," Raul scoffed. "There's a decent one closer to where I live. Anya, for God's sake, breathe, your mother will be fine, I'll make sure of that. Anya? Sweetheart, breathe. Accidents happen. Not the end of the world. Anya!”

****

The doctor said it was OK.

Well, not right away. 

The doctor greeted you like you were bloody royalty, ran all the tests with zero waiting time, put your mum in a room that looked like a luxury hotel and then said it's OK. 

Just a small strain, promised she'd be back on her feet in a couple of days.

That was some fantasy world healthcare.

Raul played the concerned partner the first hour, then asked them to charge all the expenses to his account and disappeared into some quiet corner. 

You tried your damnedest not to think about what had happened. 

(he hurt your mother is what happened)

You just sat there, staring at your mum who was eating some diet yoghurt. 

"Raul's a godsend, Anya," your mother said from her plush hospital bed, looking way more content than she should be. "I think he really loves you. He couldn't stop asking about you.”

You had already tried asking her about what she had seen that startled her, only to hear “nothing” and “don’t you worry”. Talking to her was like banging your head against a stone wall. Most conversations with her felt that way.

"We hardly know each other, Mum”, you answered. “Don't you think it's all… strange? That somebody like Raul is so crazy about me? Me?".

"It is quite strange," your mum agreed with a nod. "But they say reality is often stranger than fiction. Some people win lotteries; well, it seems like you've won yours."

“Thanks mum”, you snickered. “You always made me feel desired”.

“Ah, don’t get all snippy. I just wish... I wish so much for you to have a different life. A nice, beautiful life. So you'd go to nice places, live in nice places, not have to live from paycheck to paycheck. Something I never had, but maybe you will".

"Mum, you are fifty. Don't talk about yourself as if you were dead".

"Nothing will happen to you when you're fifty," she said with a small chuckle. "Except maybe spraining your ankle, ha."

You both were silent for some moments.

"Why did you rush to see me anyway? You are pregnant and you are afraid to tell him, is that it? Raul would love that. He really wants to have children with you, he told me so".

"I am not pregnant”. 

She looked disappointed.

“Then what?”

Should you even try to tell her?

“Well, I found out… Let’s say… What if Raul was not a very good person... like... (what’s the word?) politically?"

That was not the word, but the right words would have scared her too much.

"What?" your mother asked in disbelief. “Whatever that means nowadays? Anya, am I a good person in your eyes? Because I remember…”

You cut her off before she could dive into that deep dark hole again.

"I am not discussing abortion rights with you ever again, mum," You took a deep breath. “Once was well enough”.

“Your generation is so indoctrinated it's horrifying," she grumbled. "A good man, who wants family and children, who works hard and goes to church, is now seen as the devil himself. Does whom Raul votes for really outweigh his love for you?"

"It's not about who he votes for," you countered, "it's about what he stands for."

Your mother sighed.

"What do YOU stand for then Anya? You tout yourself as a - God forgive me - socialist but expect Raul to foot the bill for a private clinic. And don't think I don't know that's his money you've been sending me. I’m not as gullible as you believe".

No? Who racked up a credit card debt to go to Nadine?!

"No," you snapped back, "I mean yes, I took his money, but it's not like he's hurting for it."

Your mother gave her one of her long "think about what you just said" looks, and you regretted ever starting this conversation.

"Are you sure, sweetie, that you are in a position to judge who is good and who is bad?"

“Well, you’ve been doing it your entire life”.

“Anya…” your mum started.

You stood up.

"I wish you to get better soon, Mum," you said. “I wish for you to heal and get better and also start listening to me for once in your life”.

"I already feel much better," your mother replied. "And as for you, show some gratitude to Raul for once in your life. The poor man chased after you to another city just to confess his love. Your father never even bothered to call… once. Lord help me!"

Lord didn’t help you, you thought as you looked at her leg. 

Hanged his crosses all over the house and he still didn’t give a fuck.

**

Raul was talking with somebody on the phone in the hospital parking lot in Italian, loudly and passionately, perhaps too much so; the glow from his cigarette danced in the darkness. Jens and co were lurking nearby, too, eyeing your every step. 

Not that you were thinking of escaping from the hospital now. Where?

What for?

The moment he saw you, Raul gave you a warm smile and stubbed out his cigarette under his polished leather shoe. He opened the passenger door for you. As soon as both of you settled into leather seats, just before he reached out to rev up the engine, all your pent-up tears came crashing down.

"Don't you cry,” Raul cupped your cheek and wiped the tear away with thumb. “Your mother just twisted her ankle. Think about all the things much worse that could have happened to her and they did not. Malignant tumor or a fatal accident. It's just a… warning, if you may. Do not take what you have for granted. Those who love you and hold you dear are hard to come by.”

Your sobs died down in your chest.

"Warning received loud and clear", you said staring into his eyes, trying to figure out who the hell you were talking to.

"Is that so?”, he asked. “What is it you wanted to tell me back then in your room? You had a look on your face like you were about to tell me something very important".

You tensed against the cold leather of the passenger seat.

“That I was stupid, and overwhelmed by our feelings,”, you said, carefully choosing every word. “That I am sorry that I ran away, and that I love you. Very much. And I remember what I promised to you”. 

To serve you.

He absentmindedly licked your tear from his thumb.

“I don’t think that’s all you wanted to tell me back there”, he said. “But I think that’s all I want to hear for now”.

Your gaze shifted to the noticeable bulge straining against his pants and you let out a sharp breath. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly about your tear-swollen face gets him going so much. 

Well, you had a hunch.

"My bad," he said, catching your wandering gaze. "I understand you're not exactly in the mood. But you...you do something to me. Make me feel like a bloody teenager".

You were not in that mood indeed. 

You were in the mood for a little payback, though.

"Oh no, I am”, you said quietly. “In fact, I am very much in the mood, Raul”.

“Are you?”, he asked, his lips still against his own thumb.

His readiness to believe your lie was almost funny. You haven't slept well in three days, you've been running from him through trains to another city, your mother has sprained her leg, but of course you're down to suck his dick anywhere, anytime.

“Sure I am. Right here?”, you asked.

“Christ no”, Raul said. “See that van over there? Journalists. They get a flash of us, they'll spin it as me kidnapping and raping you at first opportunity. They’ll probably write I broke your mother’s leg too. Bastards."

"Home then? We are like an hour away".

His gaze raked over your legs, lingering just a bit too long. 

The engine roared to life beneath you.

“Two. And it’s a damn long time, if you ask me”.

The highway was barely lit, a maw of darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. It reminded you of that film... That's it, “The Lost Highway”. Kilometres and kilometres of the same road flashing by. You didn’t know what to say, Raul didn’t say anything either.

He began to decelerate; a P-Sign whizzed past in a blur. He veered off at the first opportunity and pushed deeper into the underbelly of some industrial wasteland, some grey-bricked, desolate looking factory. You surveyed your surroundings - one solitary lamppost standing guard over you and not much else.

You’ve seen more romantic spots, that’s for sure.

“The factory belongs to Avernus”, he said matter-of-factly. “We wouldn’t be bothered here”.

“Avernus? Do debtors toil for eternity here?” you joked.

“Ha ha”, Raul said. "I have an even better metaphor for the class struggle for you, little miss Marx."

Raul reclined his seat all the way back, pulling your body towards his with one hand wrapped around your nape. He kissed you deeply, but didn't linger much before guiding your head down towards his lap. He had already undone his pants and freed his cock from his boxers.

"Hold up, not like that," you interjected. He huffed out an irritated sigh.

You straddled over to sit between his spread legs, the steering wheel pressing into your neck as you held his cock in your grasp.

You wanted to be able to look him in the eyes.

“The way you look up at me as if I’ve given you the sweetest treat...fuck, it turns me on,", He gripped your head as you kissed the tip. “You love to suck my cock, don’t you?”

You grinned at his porn talk. 

"Mmmmhmm," you purred in response, never breaking eye contact as you gave his shaft an appreciative lick, your hand pumping him in slow and steady movements. "I love your cock, Raul. No one else can compare."

You made a very indulgent emphasis on the name as you stared into his eyes. 

Bite.

His hips jerked up, trying to pull you deeper, but you kept control.

“No one else”, you repeated with an edge, peppering his shaft with kisses.

Come on. Bite.

“Mouse”, he warned. 

There it is. There he is. You missed him.

At least a little bit.

His grip around your neck tightened as he tried to guide you further down onto him but once again, you resisted.

"I prefer piccola," you corrected, trailing your tongue along the pulsing vein of his length. "It sounds so lovely with your Italian accent." 

You spat on him, rubbing your saliva all over, as you savored the war between man and devil to fuck your mouth. Raul was stubborn, and oh boy, did he want you as badly as Raphael did.

Saliva poured out of your mouth and you let it drip on his silky slacks. You reveled in the ruin you were causing - fuck them both indeed - before feigning a deeper dive only to pull back for another lick.

The devil seemed to be winning.

"Mouse," Raphael managed to grunt through clenched teeth. "This is all very... temporary... trust me."

Ignoring his words, you wriggled out of his grasp to set the pace yourself, stroking him slowly and deliberately instead of actually sucking his dick.

"Temporarily?" You pouted as you looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes, running your hand along his cock. "I was hoping for a happily ever after, Raul."

Whatever retort he had ready was swallowed by a guttural moan; Raul's hips thrust forward in desperate need, but none of them were going to get off into your mouth today. 

"Stop playing around and suck me properly."

"Nope," was your curt reply (Raphael must have hated the “nope” instead of “no”). Before his hand could yank your hair and compel you, you recoiled against the wheel; slipped out of your jeans, practically peeled them off, and climbed on top of him.

You took him in, panties moved to the side, all in one embrace, cock in yielding, slick pussy, your cleavage thrust into his face. He tugged your shirt down (you heard a rip) to bare your breasts and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck yes," Raul groaned as you rocked back and forth. “Faster”.

It was actually harder to go faster; this was some fucked-up car design that didn't offer much room for anything. Besides, you liked it exactly the way you moved, rubbing and grinding against him instead of bouncing on top of him.

So, you disregarded his request. Or at least tried to.

He gripped your thighs with a vice-like hold, halting your movements but thrusting his hips upwards to fuck you deeper.

"Say my name," Raphael said, his fingers digging into your hips, and if you let your imagination run wild (there was no way to tame it anymore) you could feel the scratch of the claws. 

"Raul," you said, smiling.

Raphael's hand went to your throat. Your taunt spurred him on, urging him to move harder and faster, to prove who was the superior one.

"Say MY name, mortal." 

"Ra..ra..." you played with the first syllabus, grinding against him. "Raul".

You saw it coming but didn't shy away. 

His retaliation was swift and brutal, his palm colliding with your cheek. There was such hatred in his eyes, such raw jealousy, flecks of gold and green. It left you soaking wet. 

"Raul," you said, returning the slap to his pampered, moisturised, perfectly groomed face, hoping to leave your mark on it.

He looked startled for a split second, as if he never thought you would dare to hit back. He grimaced, bared his teeth in rage and grabbed you by the hair.

You let out a shriek as he dragged you off and flipped you onto your stomach. Raul's head hit the roof of the car in the struggle. He spat out a curse about needing to get a jeep before trying to position himself behind you - only to repeat the fiasco. He gave up then and flung open the passenger door.

"Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

Cool spring air trickled over your skin as he pulled you to the front of the car for a very, very short walk - then pushed you up against the bonnet and bent you over like a rag doll. Your legs were spread wide as you found yourself staring at your own reflection in the reflective surface of the front mirror.

"GOD!" you cried out as he thrust into you again, that it robbed you of balance. Your sneakers and mismatched socks kicked helplessly in mid-air while you're wriggled on your stomach against the slick surface.

You hoped he did not have a dash cam to record this. 

You hoped his security did not have a live stream.

Your face was now pressed against the red chrome, your knees scraping the metal as he fucked you from behind, his elbow pressing down on your throat.

"Such...a...disobedient...little...mouse," he gave your ass a resounding slap. 

You laughed and doubled down, repeating Raul's name as Raphael rammed into you harder every time it left your lips, his claws digging into your bottom. Your own nails clawed at the pristine surface of the Lamborghini, imagining the bill Raul would have to pay to have it repaired and thoroughly enjoying the vision. 

His words punctuated every time his body drove yours into the cool metal: "He... Will... Be... Dead... Soon. Just… Us."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you. Raphael was jealous; so, so jealous. 

You were so close and yet so far; Raphael was holding you back. 

He won't let you come until you say his name.

His grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back to meet his thrusts, while his other hand twisted your arm behind your back until it was on the verge of breaking, until you growled in pain and tried to shake him off, but humped against him instead. 

"Tell me what I want to hear."

He (they?) loved you viciously, but nobody ever loved you that much, viciously or not, so viciously is what you'll take then.

"Ra...", you began. And then it hit, a brutal, gut-wrenching orgasm that engulfed you as you finally chose to say the right syllables. "Pha... Oh FUCK... El..."

The last word was choked out of you and for an instant, everything went black.

"Never run away again," Raul whispered as his fangs bit down your neck, hard. "Never... never even think about it... never. Do you understand?"

There is nowhere to run anyway.

You nodded, eagerly, basking in the dark pit of your orgasm. 

As low as he could drag you down, so high he could lift you up; heaven high; everything-you-ever-wanted high.

Once you have experienced it, you will always want to feel it again.

"Do you understand?" he asked again, and you could tell he was getting there too. "Try it again and you are..."

He (who?) didn't say "dead". 

He (who?) never said "dead". 

He (who?) just moaned.

Then he came hard and fast, shuddering as he did so; you could not stop grinding back against his orgasm, riding the wave of power over him - over her - which was even better than an orgasm in more ways than one. 

He withdrew and for the first time, you felt the cold raindrops on your heated skin. He adjusted his pants and silently opened the passenger door for you.

Once in the car, you looked at Raul's face; his nose was bleeding. He was stretched out in the driver's seat, his clothes soiled with blood, saliva and semen. His hand was pressed against his face as he panted heavily.

You smiled.

You loved to see him so wrecked. 

"Cazzo," Raul gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Cazzo. This is really… fucked up. I'm sorry, I don’t know why I struck you. The things I said, I didn't…".

"You don't have to explain anything," you cut off any excuses he might make next. "It's fine. I am good. I liked it. A lot. I came, in fact".

You sprawled out on the seat like a content cat. Raul shot you a side-eye.

“Sometimes I have a feeling it’s me who should be scared of you”, Raul quipped. 

“Maybe”, you said. 

Raul gave you his own reflection in the mirror a weary look, small drops of blood still trickling down his nose.

"Damn, I've got another round of negotiations tomorrow," he said, rubbing his bruised cheek. "And a TV interview. I can imagine the headlines."

You felt as if your soul had been drained; Raul looked the same.

"Mh-m-m," you agreed, not giving much of a fuck. "Nothing a little concealer can't hide."

You watched his semen drip down the dark leather and wondered if you should wipe it off, and if yes, with what. Do you have a napkin? Actually, where is your backpack? 

He handed you over a napkin.

"Don't bother too much," Raul sighed as you got down to work, "there are people whose job it is to clean up, and that's definitely not you or me."

You wiped harder.

"By the way, what's that big deal of yours?" you asked.

"Why? I thought my business bored you”.

“I want to spill it to Interpol”, you whispered. 

Raul threw his head back and chuckled.

"They are already in the loop. And if you're really curious about my business, why don't you come along?” He ruffled his already dishevelled hair. “I am flying to Davos in a couple of days to finalise some... loose ends."

You felt a bitter taste in your throat.

"What do you need me there for?"

What do you think Raphael really gave you warlock powers for? To throw people under the bus? Hardly.

"To keep me company, my little mouse," he replied with a wink. "And maybe help me sway those who aren’t exactly thrilled about my plans – given your knack for persuasion."

A test of loyalty, then.

"There are people that even someone like you needs to convince?”

"I am not the biggest fish in this very big bowl, Anya".

"Not yet".

“Not yet”, he echoed.

"I don't want to be dragged into politics," you said. “I don’t care for it”.

"No? Sweetheart, you are the worst communist I’ve ever met,” Raul chuckled. “No need to be dragged into anything. All I need is for you to stand by me and lend me your support. In return, I’ll spoil you rotten. Sound fair?” 

You gave Raul a glance, one that seemed to say "I don't think Raphael will keep you around much longer after he gets what he wants."

"What is it you want, Raul? What is it that you don't have? You have everything”.

His expression was one of confusion—as if you were speaking an alien language.

"The thing about the things you don't have," he mused as his hand rested on your knee. "You never realise how important they are until they're yours. And once they are, you start to wonder just what else could be missing".

You watched the raindrops hit the car window.

"Do you ever think that sometimes we want too much?"

"Never," he flicked his lighter and a cigarette came to life between his lips. "If anything, I think we wish for too little."

Next Chapter, In Which You Get Spoilt Rotten

or (lemme decide soon)

Next Chapter, In Which Your Father Hanged Himself 

The last one is a flashback chapter from Raul’s POV to get a bit insight into the whole Raul / Raphael situation. 

[jekinabox]

some rambles on my takes on Curly from Mouthwashing

I understand that a lot of people see Curly’s reaction to Anya telling him about her SA and what he did after as him ignoring it for Jimmy’s sake- and maybe that’s true, the point could very well be that people (especially those close to the abuser, especially men) will just set that kind of thing aside because the abuser “wouldn’t do that” or “will be better” or whatever, especially because Swansea ends up doing the same thing when Anya tells him, as well as the consistent theming of responsibility and trying to fix things.

But I think that maybe there’s more to it? If you don’t, feel free to look away, this is just my thoughts and take. But I think If the story is about SA and the consequences of not rooting the people out, I don’t understand what Diasuke’s role in it could be, so that just isn’t the moral of the story that I see. Of course, if this is how you see the story, that’s ok! People can have different views on media, and art is as much about people’s different responses to it as it is about what the creators meant.

Onto my little ramblings about the guy!

1- I think it’s very probable that Curly’s been manipulated by Jimmy, and for a long time. They’re “best friends,” and Curly believes Jimmy “won’t try that bullshit with me” even though he clearly does. Even at the birthday party, Jimmy is uncaring to his “best friend,” and during the confrontation near the cockpit, Jimmy outright twists what Curly’s said in the past. (Not to mention what he does to Curly afterward, but that doesn’t exactly count since it’s afterward.) I also wouldn’t be surprised if Jimmy helped Curly out of some situation in the past due to his savior complex and Curly now feels like he owes Jimmy something. It’d be easy for him to overlook Jimmy’s smaller problems if he feels he owes Jimmy something, especially if it’s something bigger, and he seems more of the “deal with it” kind of person anyways, so he’d obviously toss any grievances aside since he thinks everyone needs multiple chances. At first, Jimmy probably unsettled him. But he got used to it, just like his job. He deals with it for the last day, then another, then another.

2- Curly seems legitimately concerned when Anya tells him about everything, at least when he gets confirmation. We don’t see much after the she asks him about the locks on the doors, and we don’t see how much he actually learns, and thus no clue as to how bad he believes the situation may be (Harassment is nothing to scoff at, but if he just believes someone’s being a creep or annoying her, he’s obviously going to try to learn more and deescalate before anything else.) We also never see how much or what they say when she asks for the gun, but what we know is that Curly is freaking out when he thinks she has it, and actually believes it at first to be that she wants to kill herself due to the recent termination of their jobs. He’s first confused, then after her few words of explanation says he’ll talk to Jimmy. We never see an actual talk, but he learns definitively of what happened only “1 day before the crash,” and it takes time to sort through emotions, plans, and decisions, let alone when someone you thought was good did something like that and if you realize that they were a shitty person all along. Curly also then needs to decide what they’re going to do with Jimmy (they can’t lock him in the cockpit or medical because they need those, nor the hold because he would obviously mess up whatever they’re shipping as a hissy fit against them, and considering you get pay docked for complaining, using the cryopod or the gun would probably make this whole deal worthless for practically everyone.) Even if he did decide to just get rid of Jimmy, he’s not going to tell anyone that in case Jimmy finds out, and especially not Anya, since she seems forgiving enough and in a bad enough spot he has no clue what she may try to do if he tells her “I’m going to go kill Jimmy.”

3- Inaction and not taking responsibility doesn’t feel like Curly’s issue. Curly has the responsibility of everything on the ship, even baking a cake, and even when told not to tell his crew about the loss of their jobs, he still does. He even takes roles that aren’t his, like doing Jimmy’s psych evaluation when he sees Anya’s uncomfortable. This is why he and Jimmy are the two characters we play as, and are seen as opposites and each other’s foils. Jimmy’s whole thing is unreliable narration. By the end of the game, he’s convinced himself Curly crashed the ship and he’s the better man for leaving Curly alive after what he “did.” Jimmy’s an aggressive man who uses people for just what they can give him, and he causes problems for the express purpose of trying to fix him so people worship him, but messes up even with all the time in the world to “fix” things. Curly’s the one blamed, but he’s a genuine guy who tried his best and gave people the benefit of the doubt until he couldn’t anymore, but didn’t have the time to fix anything because Jimmy broke that chance.

4- My main bit is over, but another piece of his psychology- Curly probably hates himself, considering how Jimmy talks about him seeming like he’s at the edge of a bridge with cinderblocks on his feet, and if he hates himself, a way he may try to cope is by insisting everyone isn’t tied to their worst moments! Just like how he talks about how pain is a symbol one’s alive, which sounds like another coping mechanism. Jimmy isn’t the only one who hopes it hurts.

5- And Curly was right, most of the time, about how bad things don’t define people. Swansea’s rude and abrasive at times, but a pretty good man in a bad life. Diasuke was unplanned for the journey, but he’s a good intern who’s trying his best. Anya may have only completed the Pony Express medical course, but she keeps Curly alive for four months, even despite his quadruple amputations and missing skin and the complete lack of a lot of medical equipment that she could’ve used. The unfortunate thing is- his kind nature let bad things in, and it was so slow and manipulative he didn’t even necessarily know, consciously, how bad it was, until Jimmy crashed the ship, got everyone killed, and fed him his own leg. 99.9% indeed.

[spot-the-antisemitism]

cecil, i swear the questions are genuine, in good faith and not meant as a gotcha, i know you get a lot of backhanded ones.

can you please tell me, what to avoid while criticising the israeli government. things like not lumping every israeli (and every zionist) as a monolith is obvious, but what else is there? bc while i dont want to stay silent abt bibi, ben-gvir and their buddies, i also dont want to cause any harm to jews in general, while criticising these guys (obviously)

also, what sources you would deem generally trustworthy? bc ive seen you name a bunch of institutions, not all of them that obvious, as untrustworthy, so i want to know, who you consider to usually have it correct/true to facts/etc.

and this one isnt that much of a question, as it is an observation, bc reading your posts i sometimes feel like we live in different realities (in some sense we do, i guess, since im a goy), but from people around me, who identify with pro palestine movement, ive seen genuine interest in learning from different sources and understanding all the nuance, elections in usa not changing anything. not to mention, none of them being antisemitic (at least not intentionally and when on rare occassion of something like that happening, met with the information, that this might be, usual response is "shit, i had no idea, thank you for telling me, i wont do/say that anymore"). it is also just one of many "things" (for the lack of a better word) they care about, we are all generally interested in politics, social issues and local activism. but my social circle may be a bubble, since i am careful about who i befriend, not to mention i live in an entirely different country. idk. this last part may have been a dm, honestly, i just felt like sharing it with you, bc dissonance between our experiences is on my mind a lot.

tldr, im trying my best to be an ally to jewish people and im asking your advice

Dear Zina,

"can you please tell me, what to avoid while criticising the israeli government?"

If what you're saying sounds like a desparagement of all Jews rather than certain idviduals you're doing it wrong. The moment you imply people are cruel or doing harm because they're Jewish or Israeli, you fucked up.

But sure go off how the Likud silences hostages when they talk about their rapes but say the real rape is them not being able continue the war.

Talk about how Ben-Gvir finds Muslim call to prayer upsetting and hires police to harass Mosques and claim it's for "safety" and that the calls "drown out the bomb siren" but never imply it's because Jews are evil and hate Muslims or that's it illegal for Muslims to pray in Israel (it's currently not, but Ben-Gvir wishes he could change that)

"also, what sources you would deem generally trustworthy? bc ive seen you name a bunch of institutions, not all of them that obvious, as untrustworthy, so i want to know, who you consider to usually have it correct/true to facts/etc."

that's hard as all media either has a pro-Israel bias and sometimes softens the things they do or more usually an anti-Israel bias and exxagerates it to stoke antisemitism. Al-Jazeera and the grey zone and mint media exist for this sole purpose. Avoid them. Know that Haaretz and JPost are biased in the other direction. As for the rest plug that into Media bias

Media bias is your friend

"bc reading your posts i sometimes feel like we live in different realities (in some sense we do, i guess, since im a goy), but from people around me, who identify with pro palestine movement, ive seen genuine interest in learning from different sources and understanding all the nuance, elections in usa not changing anything."

So first off you're a gentile and really really miss a lot of Dogwhistles. secondly I debunk terminally online slactivists who wish to join Hamas but can't even go the polls, you are friends with people with lives and actual activism. Your friends and my enemies simply aren't the same

"but my social circle may be a bubble, since i am careful about who i befriend" yeah see you might be activist Georg who is the outlier since you don't befriend abusive people and so you just don't hang out with antisemites

"i live in an entirely different country" you live in POLAND. one of the more nationalistic, xenophobic and antisemitic countries. You are lucky not to be Russian like myself but I know how your countries treated and continues to treat immigrants and Jews. Your friend group sounds great but beware of the substrates of your culture seeping in.

"bc dissonance between our experiences is on my mind a lot" you do know this is just my online experience and most of my friends IRL who do care about Palestine are very reasonable people? it's just very dangerous to be a jew with any degree of fame online right now

please write again,

Cecil

[fourthactdrawsstuff]

Long rant (about 800 words) about Romeo’s ability to be redeemed under read more. I’ve been seeing some stuff about this here and there and I wanted to get my personal thoughts about the topic out there, especially as someone who draws Romeo so much.

So my opinions on Romeo and his ability to be redeemed are a bit complicated. To start with, I don’t think people are obligated to— or even should— forgive him for all the things he did. I’m not going to sit here and say everything he did as an Admin is in any way okay, nor am I going to say that he should be forgiven by all those around him. What I will say, though, is that it’s clearly shown that he wants to at least make an effort to be a better person after the whole wake up call of his fight with Jesse and subsequent removal of his powers.

Now, I know a lot of people claim that there’s no way in hell that Romeo actually, truly wants to get better after the fight with Jesse, but I beg to differ. As someone who of my own admission used to a shit person when I was younger, I’ve had a moment like that, an intensive wake up call after years of being an asshole, that made me genuinely want to be better then and there. And I proceeded to make efforts to do so, even if they did take time. I think Romeo underwent a similar thing in the Terminal Zone.

It’s clearly shown that if Jesse doesn’t save him, he’s fully willing to literally kill himself to save Jesse and the others, to be literal human bait and get left behind without complaint. I believe that’s because that’s what he thinks he deserves, and that’s shown through dialogue in that section. If he is saved, he’s hesitant, and in my opinion, he’s shown to be guilty for having been let live when everyone gets out of the Terminal Zone. He says he wants to take actions to make things right, and even when you tell him Xara might kill him on sight, he’s willing to take that risk. He’s fully willing to endanger his life to try to become a better person on two different occasions, even in the very short time we see him after he has his Adminhood removed.

Basically, all that to say he genuinely does want to better himself and make up for all the things he did, and I do believe he took actions to try to do that after the game ends. Obviously, this doesn’t mean that he deserves forgiveness from those around him, and I honestly think it’s important that he doesn’t get fully forgiven. He did unforgivable things, period. That doesn’t mean that he can’t be redeemed, though, those ideas are very separate things, at least to me. I do genuinely believe he can learn to be a better person, and that he’s willing and able to take those steps, especially with the help of Jesse— who if he is saved, shows genuine belief that he can be redeemed. I don’t think it’s a stretch to think he’s be willing to help Romeo become a better person, especially with who Jesse is as a character. It’s a major reason why I like post season two Romesse so much, but that’s a separate conversation.

Either way, I totally get that people don’t like or forgive Romeo, but I do personally think it’s unreasonable to say there’s no way he can be redeemed at all. Even without getting into my headcanons about the reasons behind why he did a lot of the things he did, I still think that he shows genuine remorse after his wake up call, and even if most of his actions cannot and should not be forgiven, I don’t think that means he can’t be redeemed as a person in time.

— - —

PS, Regarding Admin Romeo stuff, in my case I have a lot of headcanons and whatnot that make that topic more complex, and that’s a whole different conversation on a personal level. As for strict canon, Admin Romeo is a horrible person, and does not start improving until after he gets his Adminhood taken away in the Terminal Zone. As for my headcanons and personal interpretations, the topic is a hell of a lot more complicated, but this whole rant isn’t about my headcanons, so yeah. Basically if I draw Admin Romeo in a ship or sympathetic light or something, it’s either because of my extensive headcanons, it’s an AU-ified version of him, or it’s not that deep and I just like the vibes.