#ignoring all the context and measuring him against them is wild

[starryjkoo]

I really enjoy charts and numbers and I participate in streaming culture, but I also think ARMYs are placing too much importance in that stuff lately. Especially when it comes to BTS solo work considering they're not always projects intended to chart well (charting well is clearly a bonus for a lot of them, but not the goal). It’s kind of the same issue with ARMYs ignoring the context around why certain things chart well, or around certain achievements, or their promotions and such (solos & kpop stans obviously do this more than anyone). I’ve been following the BP members charting too because I find it interesting and it adds some interesting context/comparison to the BTS solo releases, buuuuuut being fixated on it, especially to just be nasty and antagonistic and participate in silly fanwars and dick-measuring contests (over achievements that do not belong to any of us 😭) is kind of silly at this point too. Ofc it's interesting to follow and have commentary on, not talking about people doing that, but this childish competition and the passive aggressiveness and the obsession (from some, maybe a small minority) is also tired imho. And sometimes just embarrassing. And also kind of related but that one kpop subreddit has been overtaken by Twitter ARMYs and sometimes it gives me secondhand embarrassment. I haven’t been on reddit all that much lately so it’s especially obvious now 😭

[bonemarble]

love your thoughts on Leah! how do you think her relationship could develop or what direction would it go in regards to Anna and Charles after wild sign?

interesting question! i don't think i have a very good answer for a "direction" these relationships could take, mainly because that depends on the larger story pb wants to tell: is this a story where people deconstruct the social order that has generated them or one where they try to find some measure of peace in it? i'll explain better under the cut.

charles and leah, i think, are at a point where they are starting to come to terms with their rivalry and identify its true cause: they were two lonely children starved for affection fighting each other because they couldn't fight bran for it. at the same time i don't know that this modicum of understanding is enough to build a relationship. even seeing the situation with a bit more clarity, the material causes that pit them against each other are not going to disappear, they have centuries of ill feelings between them, and i think at this point they simply don't like each other very much. even more importantly, i think there's a very good reason they are so repelled by each other and it took them so long to see the other's distress: they are very good mirrors. they both spent formative years of their lives with bran as the only (if imperfect) parental (or quasi) figure in their lives and attached the majority of their sense of self to their usefulness to him. to fully recognise the pain of this in the other would come very close to recognising this in themselves. they both know bran doesn't treat them well but they have become accustomed to it, i think. they grow some thick skin over it, shrug it off and get on with things (that's how bran wants them after all). seeing the other's wounds would make their own much more difficult to ignore. there's also an even more convoluted contortion in place: if they each believe bran is somehow unfair only towards them while he is right when he mistreats others, they never need to really question bran's judgement. feeling isolated in this unfairness is preferable compared to confronting the life-shaking truth that the person that moves the sun in your world may be doing it wrong. many other thoughts along these lines but this is already long.

leah and anna also have a mildly antagonistic relationship but of course there's less history there. my main issue with anna is that the only way to give her some true tridimensionality would be to acknowledge with some seriousness the difficulty of her circumstances. she was turned against her will, abused for years, and then latched onto her only saviour. he is a man she knows little when they basically marry and he is violent and possessive. her new life revolves around him and his complex family, with which she lives and has to deal all the time. at the same time, her survival depends on their support and protection, as we have seen how much her 'omega specialness' doesn't really ensure safety without material power to prevent her exploitation. there's no need to turn this into a grimdark novel, but if this context is not always waved away, suddenly she is not an unrealistic fairy always untouched by events: she is someone making strategic decisions to craft the best life possible out of her circumstances, finding love where she can and fighting for it. she has no true interest in anyone besides charles bc she is rightly guarded and balancing her new relationship with him already requires a lot of her energies. + he is the only person she can trust to be in her corner, without which she should be as lost as when they met (she also truly loves him ofc but this hardly explains her isolationist behaviour). she manipulates others not bc she is some quirky genius: it's the only way she sees to obtain what she needs when she is surrounded by aggressive impulsive people that are more powerful than her and feels the need to forestall their worst reactions. when bran and charles start giving her some latitude, she relaxes around them, especially as she realises she has things she can leverage (charles's love and her omega powers) to ensure a better condition for herself. but she is still wary of their flaws and recognises how they impact leah. yet leah is unpleasant. she sometimes makes her life more difficult but not really with the gravity and frequency people seem to assign her. even on good days however anna, so so smart and crafty and sneaky in navigating her circumstances, is almost annoyed by her: how has she not learned to do this better? how has she not learned to make herself likeable and dance around people and avoid confrontation to better obtain what she wants? but there's something else behind it, imo: leah might be brash and crude but she is real. how liberating that must be, to not always feel like your well-being depends on how quickly you past on a smile! the reason anna doesn't like leah, is the reason most people don't: to acknowledge leah's reactions as sensible is to eliminate the displacement of blame that allows life under unfair circumstances. to see leah's anger is justified means asking herself: why is she not angry? leah is a great mirror for her too. she can recognise her pain if she imagines her to be in a much more difficult position, someone to help from a higher standing. to confront her from a position of parity would mean to confront that position of parity: that she doesn't have any more material power than leah and her current better treatment stems from a momentary lucky alignment of events over which she has little control. bran and charles are, in their own ways, as unpleasant as leah is, only 1) anna needs them to survive; 2) since they also need her + they are not threatened by her they generally choose to treat her better. i am not saying anna should roll over and let leah treat her however she wants: leah enacts a similar mechanism with anna after all. disliking anna for being treated better is the only valve available to release her anger: it's not like she can accomplish much by going against bran and charles.

necessary prelude for me to say i don't care if leah and anna become fast friends. much as i don't care if leah and charles do. i think this dynamic is interesting even if it remains antagonistic, as long as either immobilism or change follow some logical exploration of this setting. it can truly go either way i would be ok with both.

[kyber-erso]

Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his ward's hand as they manoeuvred through the crowd, ignoring the slip of nervous perspiration between their palms.

Only the man's frown and wild, graying beard were visible from under a curtain of dark wool. 

His companion, a boy of a height barely to the older man's waist, remained hidden under a hood of muted sapphire. A wisp of the child's hair caught in the light, a shock of blonde against angelic and unusually tense features. 

Settling like a fog, cool tendrils of the dark side swirled into the life around them, curling curiously between sunlit stalls and down darkened alleys. Searching.

Despite the roar of the densely packed crowd, the aged Jedi could still hear his own heartbeat, pounding urgently beneath his skull. Vader had found them.

A gang of laughing street children bustled past carelessly, casting the scents of spiced meats and sweet, bubbling honey high into the canopy of colourful silks above. The boy watched them disappear into the fray with a numb sense of yearning, jolting from stillness as his guardian tugged him along.

The crowd thickened as they neared the beating heart of the markets, slowing their pace. Frustration rose in Obi-Wan as the pair struggled through the press of beings, but he found a small measure of relief in knowing they were well hidden from their pursuers. A fleck of blood red confetti caught on the older man's beard and he spat to dislodge it.

The ocean was close – he could taste it in the air. That’s where their ship was supposedly waiting. So close.

Obi-Wan fought to ignore the commotion behind them as the troopers began ransacking stalls. It was easy to do in the context of Vader’s, all-encompassing shadow. 

Part of him yearned to turn, to see with his own eyes the monster Sidious had stitched from the charred remains of his brother, but to do so would be to expose his ward. He would surely not be able to contain his anguish. They would be caught. 

A woman’s shout cut through the throng, followed shortly by the joltingly familiar sound of rapid blaster fire. Cries of outrage and terror erupted behind them. The boy flinched against him at the uproar, muffling a small sound into where he was pressed tightly against Obi-Wan's side. 

Beru’s face overcame the older man's vision, ashen with blood loss, yet her voice strong with determination. Run, my darling…

Obi-Wan freed himself from the boy’s memory with effort, dazed for a moment by the sheer strength of the projection. Fear spiked in his throat.

Any force sensitive on the planet would have glimpsed that too. 

Vader’s attention crashed over the pair like a raging storm front. The Sith was some distance away, but the strength of his gaze still physically buffeted the pair. Sensing the presence that has heralded the death of his family, the child couldn’t resist throwing a terrified glance behind them.

Through a brief gap in the scattering crowd, the boy's eyes met the sith’s own. A clash of azure against unforgiving crimson. Fate. A bleeding seed plated into a field under a great, open sky. 

He will be mine. 

“No!” Obi-Wan cried, twisting to shield the child from view. The corrupt connection between the child and Sith shattered like glass, the violence of it almost overshadowing Luke's resulting, agonized scream.

A blast from a troopers rifle exploded the stall of their left, and the force swelled with increased panic, the beings around them surging to escape the danger. Obi-Wan hauled the disoriented boy into his arms and dived into the turbulent currents, barely evading Vader once again.

[bokettochild]

About Legend having insane leg strenght: what if the reason he never brags about that is because he's embarassed about it? He thinks that pulverizing a boulder with a kick is either something everyone can do or too similar to a bunny. One day he and Four get dumped into a monster camp without their items or weapons and Legend takes desperate measures to ensure they don't die: anihilating the entire camp with only his legs. He is unironically and literally capable of killing someone with his /1

This ask references this post btw, so, check it out if you need context!

Honestly, I loved this so much! THANK YOU!!! But I am half asleep, so the cool stuff I saw in my head is being stinky and not comng out. I'm sorry, hope you like my half-asleep drabbl of Legend being weak as shit while simultaneously having the strongest kick out of the whole Chain XD

Legend hates being at Ordon.

It’s not that he hates the people; he’s used to country folk, he was raised around them, heck, his grandparents have the same strong twang in their voices that everyone in Twi’s village does! He loves the fresh air and the sounds of animals and the sight of growing things everywhere he looks.

But he hates looking around and seeing Twilight’s entire village (even the freaking kids!) wander around lifting things that probably equal his entire body weight!

Seriously, Malo (that was the terrifying toddler’s name, right? That’s what Twilight said when he introduced them all, right?) could lift up a small goat with ease, and he was an actual toddler!

What was Uli feeding her children that they turned out this strong? Were all the village women using it? How on earth was every person in all of Ordon fully capable of throwing Legend over their shoulder?

It hadn’t happened yet, but Legend was on guard because it was only so much time before someone figured out it was possible, and it wasn’t as if he could fight them off.

He wasn’t jealous, definitely not. Not even when he saw Twilight carrying a mother goat across the village with an easy stride as he brought the nanny back to her pen. When he buried his face in his arms and sighed it wasn’t because he was remembering how much he had to tug and pull to move a basket of apples, no, it was just because the mere thought of carrying goats for the foreseeable future made him tired. Definitely.

But this strength was just an Ordon thing, right? It was totally just something that was common in Ordon, and Legend took comfort in that as he sat on the front porch of Uli and Rusl’s house and helped with the mending.

Even their blankets were heavy, what the heck?

But then Sky walked past.

And Sky was carrying a barrel, an entire barrel. One that swished and clunked with the sounds of grain filling it, and if the small trail of spilled seed that followed after the hero meant anything, then that thing was full.

Okay, so Skyloftians were strong too, no big deal.

Big deal.

Their entire visit to Ordon, helping to hide away animals and supplies before a local monster band stole them, was spent with Legend trying desperately to not be jealous as he watched everyone from Wind to Time lift and carry things that he couldn’t even knock over if he pushed against them.

It wasn’t even that most of thing things were heavy, it was just... he was weak.

Uli’s gaze when she’d figured out the truth had been surprised, eyes blown wide with shock as she watched as Legend, who’d opted to help indoors since he knew working outside would lead to him being more a burden than an aid, struggled to lift buckets of water to fill the wash basin. Dark brown eyes had followed him as he’s left the bucket outdoors and stomped inside, hissing and wheezing under his breath as he moved his attention to his bag and grabbed one of his power bracelets.

“Hun,” Uli’s soft country twang caught his attention as the woman drew close, concern filling her warm gaze. “Are ya’ feelin’ alright?”

And reputation or no, Legend’s Gran would have his hide on a hitching-post if he even so much as dropped his manners. There was something about country folk that was so inherently polite and welcoming, that even the salty vet couldn’t help but return with the same manners that his Gran had pounded into his head since childhood.

“Yes, ma’am.” Crimson trailed up his neck to blossom across his cheeks and shoot up his ears. He tried to ignore that Uli had a baby on one hip and a bushel of food on the other, breath contained and relaxes as she stood there, no hint of strain in her face or body language. His fingers trailed along the clasp of his power bracelet, shame building inside as he shuffled his feet.

You just can’t walk away when lady’s talking to you, especially if she’s being all polite like and just makin’ sure you’re okay.

“Are you injured?” The farm-wife pressed. “You were huffy something huge with that there bucket.”

And Legend would like nothing more than to sink into the earth as he glances over the full bucket of water that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t lift. “I’m just not much of a farm-hand is all, ma’am. I’ll be right as rain in a tick, just needed to grab something I forgot.”

And while the look Uli gives him is a bright smile, he knows worry when he sees it peeking out of someone’s gaze. He tries to ignore that, instead turning back to the chores he’d been assigned and trying his hardest to ignore ethe fact that no one else was wearing power bracelets when they all came back for dinner that evening.

He’s not strong. So what? He can lift his sword well enough, and he can do most other things too when he wears the power bracelets.

Yes, he knows that Ravio warned him about not developing muscles if he relied on objects so much, but he’s never had time to work out or build any muscle mass, so when he needs it it’s a bit more important to just get his work done rather than hope he’ll develop it. He’s paying for that, and he knows it, but he can’t really help that he doesn’t have the time or space to really do anything about it.

Oh well, at least the others haven’t caught on.

Warriors hefts a huge rock over his shoulder and throws it, chuckling deep and loud as he smirks at the rancher. “Beat that!”

They’re clearing a road where an avalanche swept through and blocked off the main entrance to a local town. They’ve been at it for hours, and while Legend tries his hardest to be discreet by sticking to things he can actually lift, even if it does require his bracelets, the others have devolved into a contest to see who can throw stuff the furthest.

There’s nothing on the other side of the road except for the edge of a swamp, and even Legend has to admit that it’s ridiculously satisfying to hear each of the heavy stones go ‘plop’ as they land in the marsh.

Twilight smirks at the captain, all his sharp teeth on display as he hefts a rock that’s the size of Wild and easily bigger than half of the rest of the heroes. “Watch and learn, city boy.” Twilight grunts (well at least it took some effort) before throwing the boulder and watching with the rest of them as it soars through the air and lands with a dramatic ‘splosh’ in the middle of the swamp. Cheers erupt from the younger heroes, and a few even drop their own burdens to give a brief round of applause.

Warriors humphs shrewdly, gaze thin as he looks over at Twi, who only cocks a brow in challenge. “Anyone think they can beat that?”

Legend finds his gaze meeting Four’s swirling hazel, and they both quickly look away from the captain, both well aware that the biggest rocks they’ve lifted are maybe the sizes of their heads, and no where near the horrific loads that the taller heroes are tossing left and right.

“I’ll try!” Wild’s eyes are flashing as the kid clambers over the rock slide, eyes darting to and fro until they land on what has to be the biggest, most horrifically sized piece of rubble Legend has ever seen. The Champion beams, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles briefly before taking the stone in both hands and lifting it over his head and throwing it.

The swam erupts in goop and several of their group yelp and have to dark back as smelly water sprinkles the edge of the path. Wild beams down from his perch on top of the pile, hands on his hips as he looks down at them. “Who dares challenge my strength?”

“How about you, Vet?” Warriors nudges him lightly, chuckling with a cocked brow. The man is just teasing, and he doesn’t mean any harm, but Legend finds himself irritated anyways. He doesn’t know what it is about Warriors, but the man gets under his skin entirely too easily.

“No thanks.” He grunts, hefting his own stone (so small in comparison) a bit higher and adjusting his grip as he walks over to the swamp.

Wild scrabbles around above, knocking stones aside and sending them rolling down towards the vet. Legend rolls his eyes, dodging quickly around a few and kicking some of the larger ones in the direction of the swamp.

He smiles to himself at the satisfying ‘plonk’ as each one hits the surface.

Four’s head aches and the next time they see Warriors they’re going to kick him in the shins.

The captain is good at planning, usually, but if his planning means that Four is waking up to stare around a vast room where people in red and black PJ suits are eating bananas because said plan went wrong, then they think they’re a bit justified in wanting to kick the captain.

They’d reach to rub their head, to adjust the headband that’s riding too low and letting their hair all hang in their eyes, but their hands are bound behind them, and they’re left huffing their breath and scrunching their nose in an effort to relive their irritation. Their mind is too wild to shake their head, but they let their eyes wander.

Legend’s violet gaze meets theirs, sharp fury bubbling below the surface as Legend sits across from them, hands bound behind him, a rope leading from his wrists to a hook in the wall that is definitely higher than either of the two of them can reach.

As unkind as it is, they breathe a sigh of relief to know they aren’t alone (even if being four people in one body technically means that they’re never alone as is). It’s...nice, having Legend around. They don’t know what it is, but the taller boy feels safe and that’s something that they, especially Red, fond comfort in.

But the fact that two of them are here means that Wars is getting both his shins kicked, fair is fair.

Legend squeaks in that harsh way he does when he’s angry, a poor and rather adorable attempt at a growl, but apparently, he’s unable to make any sort of guttural noise, so the squeak is the best he can do. “I am going to strangle Wars when we get back. Yiga? Seriously?”

They raise a brow. “Weren’t we fighting moblins?”

“And a Talus. Unless these guys have transformative rings, then someone messed up.” The vet grates out, but before he can try and unravel their situation any more, a masked face is shoved into the vets own, one of the pajama clad banana eater’s apparently trying to leer over the vet, breath strong and rank even behind his mask.

“So! The friends of the hero awake! You will call me Astorah! Leader of the Yiga and supreme priestess to Lord Ganon!”

“I’ll call you annoying and maybe alive if you let us go.” legend drawls, unimpressed. “Seriously lady, get your face of mine or I’ll knock it in.”

They smirk. Legend is as polite and well-mannered as can be around the country villages, but the minute he’s away from thick mountain drawls and country twang, the Vet becomes a sour and salty speaker who’s as likely to threaten you as o smile at you. It would almost be funny if they weren’t being held captive.

Astorah makes an indignant sound, hand shooting out to smack Legend across the face. The vet can’t do anything to stop it, and the blow sends his head swinging to the side, a faint grunt escaping as the self-declared priestess stands to her full height (she’s taller than either of them at any rate) and promptly orders her subordinates to see to it that the prisoners be brought to ‘the mountain’.

“The hero will be looking for his friends,” The pajama clad leader declares excitedly, hands rubbing together like a villain in a bad stage play. “So, let's help him out, shall we?”

The vet and smithy exchange a glance, each somewhat surprised at how... pathetic their opponent seems to be.

“Their screams should do the trick; all heroes listen to cries of help after all.” There’s a mad waver in her voice and the pitching is all wrong.

She’s delusional. Vio whispers, and the rest of them are inclined to agree.

Across from them, legend scowls as another red and black clad weirdo comes to grasp his binds, unhooking them from above as yet another does the same to Four.

Ideally, they would try and escape now, but legend only follows along slowly as Astorah leads them through the endless halls and up step after step, murmuring, laughing and shrieking loudly as she goes, hands fluttering and gestures erratic as Legend’s scowl grows more and more each minute.

It all seems rather pathetic, all thing considered, until another, larger, more intimidating individual stops them, voice harsh as it grates out something in a language neither hero can understand. Astorah protests and shrieks at the figure, but they disregard her and instead turn to the heroes.

“Put them back, screams echo within a cave far better than on a mountain top.”

Four’s stomach sinks. Being outside means being closer to escape, means finding the others easier and kicking Wars for landing the in a battle where two of their own had been captured by the enemy.

Legend seems to be of the same idea, his eyes flashing as he pulls at his bonds, tugging away from the guard holding onto him.

The oddly garbed enemy slaps him again, but Legend doesn’t seem to be affected, only pushing harder and biting towards the next hand that swings his way. Astorah pulls away with a light sob, shrieking when Legend’s teeth keep hold of her hand while the enemies around them erupt into action.

Fours unsure of what happens next, their head is still spinning, and quite honestly, they’re sure Hyrule will declare him concussed when they get back, but he does see blows being thrown Legend's way, blades being drawn as shouts echo around them.

There’s a dark of movement, and one of the enemies falls. Four stares in shock for half of a moment before turning their gaze to Legend, who, for all intents and purposes, looks half feral.

Blood stains the Vet’s bucked teeth and his hair swirls as he spins and ducks beneath blows. His hands are still bound tightly behind him, a rope trailing on the ground as Legend evades contact, yet somehow still manages to down another enemy.

Four would try and help, but their mind is spinning, their brain not yet up to date with what their eyes are seeing, that and they’re still bound themself, their arms are fastened behind them and they’re not even sure how Legend is managing to get blows in.

And the he sees.

The vet’s boot swings up to make contact with one of the jaws of the enemy.

Yiga. Wild had told them about them, the Yiga clan, people out for the hero’s blood. The word only comes to mind now, but they’d had to tune out of the battle for a brief moment to remember it. They’re brought back to it as the sound of an agonized scream breaks through the air, accompanied by the harsh snapping sound that Four knows too well from having broken their own bones.

Legend fights with his hands behind his back, kicking out like an angered horse and injuring any who step near. It’s impressive honestly, watching how blood spurts and bones crumple from the force of the vet’s blows, and all that without having use of his hands.

The Yiga back away, eventually leaving the room entirely as Legend squeaks out an angry Legend sound after them, before turning his attention to Four. Four says nothing, and it appear Legend thinks that that’s okay, because he darts towards the door they had been headed too, leading Four with nervous glances being thrown back over his shoulder every few minutes.

The mountain top they emerge onto is higher than Four expected, and they want nothing more than to snuggle down in the cozy parka Legend once leant him, but they have none of their items, and they’re lucky to even be out in one piece.

It takes a lot of work to climb down a mountain with their hands tied, but their fingers are too cold to make any good of the knots, and they manage in the end to climb down. They’re in the last legs when Four notices what looks like a small group of travelers below, and they can almost hear the singing of the Four Sword from them.

They’d dropped their blade in their battle, the very reason they were caught in the first blade. They’re not happy someone else touched it, but they are glad they didn’t leave it behind.

“Four,” Legend’s voice breaks them from their thoughts, and as they turn to face him, they find that Legend’s face is flushed, ears twitching nervously as he avoids their gaze. “Could you...not tell the others about all that?”

“About what?” They clamber down another stone, Legend still within sight as he trails down beside them.

“The...kicking.” Legend flushes. “I know you guys- most of them anyway- could have it handled better. I just, Wars is bad enough as is, I don’t need him bring up my lack of strength next time he decides he needs ammo to mess with me.” There’s a scowl on the vets features as he hops down and across and small hold in the mountain side. “I get it, I’m weak in comparison, they could probably have beheaded those guys with their bare hands, but mine fingers are shit o a good day and-”

Four doesn’t know if they actually figure something out or randomly spew words, but Legend’s eyes turn to them in surprise when the smithy stares down at him. “You do know most Hylia’s can’t do anything by kicking each other, right? I’m planning on kicking Wars when we get back, and the most it’ll do is bruise him.” Their voice is flat, but they let Viol take over, he always had the best endurance out of them when it came to rocky places anyways. “You kicked a man’s ribs in, Legend.”

And it’s not funny, it really isn’t, but they giggle, watching as Legend flushes before their eyes, and when the others trail up towards them, gazes curious and concerned, Four is laughing hysterically.

It could be the head wound, it could be Legend’s face, but the thought that Legend was able to kick a man's ribs in and hadn’t done so to any of them yet was both surprising and highly relieving for whatever reason, and it’s hilarious listening to Legend try and explain himself as the vet protests and struggles against the fact that apparently Hylian’s don’t usually have enough leg strength to kill people with.

Yes, people died back there. Yes, Four just watched them die. Maybe it’s Shadow’s influence, but Four can’t find that they're overly bothered. They are tired and injured and cold, and if they can laugh about something as ridiculous as Legend’s strange strength imbalance, then Hylia danggit they’re going to!

They never do kick Wars’ shins in, they giggle to hard at the thought that Legend doing so could actually break them, so they topple over before they can lift their feet.

[mandadoration]

before the winter

summary: anon asked: I am LITERALLY BEGGING on my KNEES for a sliver of Din (from that black and white drawing) with a breeding kink. He looks like he fucks wild, like supet dominant, almost primal, but extremely caring. Mando is definitely territorial over his girl. Bitch looks like he invented the breeding kink... I unfortunately cannot help that I am a whore for that man - Fool + anon asked: Could we maybe get some breeding kink din? Claiming his girl in the ultimate way, making her take his seed and punishing her if any falls out. He wants to breed her, wants to fuck himself and his seed so deep she will always be his, telling her dirty things while he does it, how she'll always be his, how she is going to take his cum like a good girl and not waste a single drop

word count: 1, 6222

pairing: clan leader!mandalorian x reader

warnings: smut, breeding kink, mild bondage

a/n: so the context behind the drawing by @magichandthing​ is “what if clan leaders dressed like this” and so uh

I’ve taken some liberties with thinking about if this were the case (i.e. clan leaders =/= covert leaders, but still in high standing? maybe some sort of council?) I’ve also amended the Ways of the Mandalore and Mandalorian culture to try and explain his dress. 

Also kind of expanded on this post?

Read this on AO3

In the turbulent times of today, trying to make sure the Ways of the Mandalore didn’t die out were crucial. Mandalorians were an endangered way of life already, and the current political climate wasn’t the best environment for expanding. Secrecy and discipline were enforced. Mandalorian coverts were hidden with high security and discretion. All members of the covert had to be on the same page at all times to reduce risk. After all, the best way to stop something was to stop it from happening in the first place. All of these preventative measures, but time marches on without a care. A new generation had to be brought up. 

Foundlings were to be revered, but there always seemed to be an undercurrent of tragedy underneath all that. A foundling wasn’t taken in by a clan unless they were all alone, and as death tolls rose, more and more were orphans. There seemed to be an increase of that, it seems. Young children left alone in the cruel world forever torn apart by war. As Imperials do anything and everything to scrabble for power, numbers were growing seemingly by the day as more and more children were taken under wing. They were cared for, and even loved, for a found family was just as important as beskar.

But a child born into a clan was something to be celebrated. 

“Mando--”

Which is why your whimpering voice and the wet sounds of your bodies meeting were echoing around the empty chamber as Mando takes you from behind. 

As a result of circumstance, the Way has amended itself a little, and life became different compared to what it was in the past. It still retained the heart and soul of Mandalore, staying true to the real meaning of what it means to be a Mandalorian, but times have forced change, especially concerning clans. For example, within their home turf, clan leaders forwent the usual pomp of beskar. Of course, anywhere else, and they would proudly show off shining armor and the best gear. The show of bare skin was a testament that they have earned their title through blood and body, a way of showing their status. To have the grace to bare their skin, especially in these dangerous times, was an immense show of power. 

For you, it just means less layers. Less layers meant Mando could sheathe himself into your warm heat faster. Less layers meant it’d be easier and more convienent to fuck a child into you. 

You weren’t a Mandalorian. You weren’t a foundling and you didn’t swear the Creed, but you were unequivocally Mando’s, and you were his to take whenever he felt like it. It’s a high honor to catch the eye of a clan leader, especially one as selective as Mando, and you became a person of intrigue when it was revealed you weren’t bound by the Way. Despite the eyes that follow you and the ever-so fleeting touches from others in the covert, the marks that never failed to show on your throat far above what any collar could hide spoke more than words. 

The last time someone put their hand on you, Mando had no hesitation on showing what happens when someone fucks with something that belonged to him. 

Paz Vizla’s broken arm was a testament to that. 

Mando puts a firm hand on your back and pushes you down, keeping you face down, ass up as his hips snap forward against yours. Each thrust makes you scoot forward the slightest, and punched out moans seem to be the only sound you can make beyond the occasional garbled sound of his name. His grip is bruising on your hips, and he pulls you back to meet him halfway in an effort to increase his pace. Mando’s breathing is labored, a soft groan going through his vocoder every now and then, but he’s rather impassive considered how brutally he was fucking you. 

Mando’s beads and necklaces have long since been discarded, and his pants are only shoved down far enough to reveal his cock. You wish he could pull you flush against his chest, but the horns soldered onto his helmet prevents you from getting too close. You don’t mind, and you mind even less in those rare moments you’re on top, holding on to those horns for stability as you fuck yourself on him. But Mando had descended upon you far too quickly and without any preamble that you had no time to even ask him what was going on. Clothes were taken off, and if too much of a hassle, ripped off, his belt secured around your wrists and shoved to the cold floor of his room. Your hands are bound in front of you with it, the Mudhorn buckle, the symbol of his clan, glinting in the low light of the room. He at least had the sense to lay his cloak underneath you, and the fur trim gave your hands something to grasp at. 

You only feel the slightest bit of guilt when your tears soak the fine fabric. 

Mando moves his hold on your waist to your arms, yanking you back as your back arches and lets Mando somehow sink deeper into you. The moan you let out is filthy, and you think through the haze that you’re being a little too loud, and others were sure to hear. So you bite your lip, teeth tugging on the soft skin as you try to stifle the sounds, only for you to yelp when Mando slaps your ass before he goes back to hold onto your arms.

“Let me hear you, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

Your shoulders are straining at the joints from the angle you’re held up in, but you’re so close that you ignore it in favor of increasing your moans tenfold as per his request. In turn, a deep, guttural growl emanates from Mando, making you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “My sweet girl, so- so tight, so willing, and all mine.” He punctuates each word with a sharp thrust that makes you shake. Mando slips out of you, chuckling under his breath at the needy whine you give, and flips you over so that you’re on your back. One grabs your bound wrists and pins them above your head, and the other comes down to lead himself back into your blushed hole, the sweet drag of his cock curling your toes and making you see stars. As you stare up at his helmet with glazed-over eyes, you can see how truly debauched you look in the reflection. Hair mussed, face flushed, eyes shining with unshed tears, seemingly frozen in a permanent state of euphoria. That’s what Mando saw when he looked at you.

You wish you could kiss him. 

And that’s another thought that’s fucked out of you as Mando resumes his previous pace. Harsh, unforgiving, and with a clear purpose in mind.

He leans in as close as he can. “Are you going to cum with me?” Mando croons. You nod frantically, half delirious from the rising rush of your orgasm, and give a moan of appreciation when Mando dips his hand down to rub at your clit, matching it in time with each thrust. “Where do you want me cum?” he asks, and it’s a misleading question because you know all he wants to hear is you beg for it. “In your mouth? On your face? Wherever you want, sweet girl, I will do it.” Mando’s voice is so tender and soft, borderline condescending compared to how ruined you feel. He’s close, you can tell, the strong, corded muscles under his skin jumping and straining to maintain an even pace, and he gets awfully wordy when he’s about to cum. 

“In me!” you gasp out, clenching and unclenching your hands, nails digging into your soft palms. You strain against your bonds, wanting so badly to bring him close, to touch him. “Please, fuck, Mando, cum in me!”

“Anything for you,” he grunts, “Anything for my sweet girl,” and with one final swipe at your clit with the rough pad of his gloved thumb, you’re cumming, mouth open in a soundless scream as your eyes roll back into your skull. Mando buries himself to the hilt, moaning through the voice modulator as he releases inside of you, and from how much he absolutely fills you, his hot cum has nowhere to go but out, leaking over his cock and smearing over your thighs. His cloak is definitely stained from that. 

As you start to come out of your haze, whimpering one last time with a hoarse voice as he slips out, the ridge of your entrance catching on his head, you’re glad that your hands are bound because you’re sure you would’ve torn up Mando’s back with your nails. You run your fingers over the crescent marks dug into your palm. 

Maybe he’s into that. You’ll have to ask some other time. 

Your heart rate picks up again when Mando makes a displeased sound, almost disappointed, running a finger over your abused entrance. “That won’t do,” he sighs, and he scoops some of his leaking cum to shove it back inside your hole, not caring when you jolt and sigh with each insistent press of his fingers. 

You give him a breathless, “What?” and Mando just hooks his arms under your legs to bring him flush against his hips again. 

“I said, ‘That won’t do’,” he repeats, slower this time, and your face reddens again when you feel his softened cock twitch against the cleft of your ass. “Because you’re a messy girl, and I’m aiming for a child before winter comes.”

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore @lavenderl3mons @jokersdoll​​ @creamysacrilege @blondecity​

Pedro Tag: @mrsparknuts

[crackinglamb]

You Have Chosen Nydha To Be Your Companion!

Hopping off @little-lightning-lavellan's idea to take a DA:I OC and turn them into a companion, may I present Banal'ras Nydha (from Hope Is a Fragile Thing) and her wiki page.

General

Banal'ras Nydha looks human, although there is something that doesn't seem quite right about her. She has dark hair and skin and startlingly green eyes, and speaks with a low, raspy voice. It is often difficult to find her in a room. Nydha first appears, and is available to recruit, in the Temple of Sacred Ashes before attempting to close the Breach. She offers knowledge and combat tactics against demons. If dismissed, or never spoken to, she will then be spotted in Haven behind Solas's cabin. She will not be available to recruit at that time, although once the Inquisition is relocated to Skyhold, she will make an offer to travel with the Inquisitor. If dismissed again, she will become a non-interactive NPC in the Rotunda, usually found near the mural or atop the scaffolding. If she is never recruited, she will disappear from Skyhold after the final battle with Corypheus.

Nydha is not romanceable by any Inquisitor, but can engage in a relationship with Solas if a female Dalish Inquisitor has not done so. She is friendly and bonds well with most of the other party members, especially Cole, Dorian and, of course, Solas. She prefers diplomacy and tends towards mediation rather than confrontation. If a Dalish Inquisitor has romanced Solas, and has high approval, Nydha will offer comfort and sympathy upon termination of the relationship. If low approval, Nydha has nothing to say.

She has strong opinions on the plight of elves, slaves and mages. She is supportive of any measures that would improve the lives of them. Her early banter with Dorian revolves around debating Tevinter's practices and trying to get him to see a better way. She will also speak with Iron Bull about the shortcomings of the Qun, although never with the same level of disdain as Solas. While she never openly mocks the Chantry or Andrastianism, she isn't a strong supporter or believer and has no opinion on who becomes Divine.

Location

In Haven, Nydha can be found behind Solas's cabin, usually in the darkest corner. Once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold, she can be found in either the Arcane Library or the Rotunda.

Approval

Nydha's approval level is based upon empathy. An Inquisitor who is helpful, respectful and curious will gain approval. Nydha has no opinion on quests such as Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts or the outcome of Here Lies the Abyss, but approves diplomatic resolutions to judgments. She will greatly approve allying with the Free Mages, and only slightly approve conscripting the Templars. Conscription of the Free Mages or allying with the Templars will result in full disapproval. She will greatly approve Iron Bull becoming Tal-Vashoth and keeping Cole as a spirit. Actions that are ruthless or cruel will lose approval.

A high approval Inquisitor will learn that Nydha was born in another world and 'crossed over' through the Veil when the Breach opened. She will tell the Inquisitor that her name was given to her as a gift from someone she met in the Fade. She does not, however, say that it is Solas (see below for unique Trespasser dialogue). She will say that her name means 'Shadow of Night', according to her translation. A Dalish Inquisitor can have special dialogue to recognize the name as being Elvish and can question how a human came to have it. Nydha will answer that it is because the native language of the Fade is Elvish, a remnant from when elves held all of Thedas before human arrival.

A low approval Inquisitor will not learn this part of her history and she will remain an enigma. If approval falls to zero, she will refuse to speak to the Inquisitor, although she does not leave and is still available as a companion.

Quests

Survivor In the Shadows – the quest for meeting Nydha initially at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It begins upon speaking with her, and ends with either recruitment or dismissal.

From the Ashes – only available after either In Hushed Whispers or Champions of the Just, but before completion of In Your Heart Shall Burn, Nydha will ask the Herald to accompany her back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to search for her few belongings. The Herald will find a journal, a bundle of unusual clothes and a single unmarked vial. Nydha will approve completing this quest.

A Better Form – Nydha will ask for help in stabilizing her corporeal body if Dagna is brought into the Inquisition. Resolution of this quest will involve having Dagna create a unique amulet that will act as a permanent grounding source, rather like a lightning rod. Components for this amulet are: 1 blank rune stone, 1 wisp essence, and either 5 dawnstone or 5 volcanic aurum (both imbue constitution bonuses). It will act as an Amulet of Power, granting Nydha an extra skill point. This is the only time such an ability will be available to her. This will also allow her to wear other amulets throughout the remainder of the game. She, and Solas, will greatly approve completing this quest.

Twice-Born – available during the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. Nydha, if in the party, will ask to speak with the Augur of Stone-Bear Hold once relations with the hold have been established. If she is not among the Inquisitor's party, she will be found in the main scout camp near Professor Kenric. What the two speak about will be unknown, but at the end of the quest, Nydha will inform the Inquisitor that she has been given the legend-mark Twice-Born from the hold's 'gods'. Cole will greatly approve completing this quest, regardless of whether or not he is in the party.

Note: This quest is not dependent upon approval, but is the only time she will speak with a zeroed out Inquisitor, should that level of low approval be reached.

Ability Tree/Specialization

Nydha is technically a rogue, and can utilize either a bow or double daggers. She has an autolevel preference for the Subterfuge tree, and has an additional, unique starting skill in Fade Cloak. This does not require further leveling to be active. It is the only skill that cannot be deactivated from her skillset.

She can specialize in either Tempest or Rift Mage, due to her nature as a being from the Fade. She is not otherwise a mage. Her decision on specialization can be influenced, as she will ask the Inquisitor's opinion. If no opinion is given, she will default to taking Tempest.

Combat comments

“Come get some!”

“Catch me if you can!”

(If specialized in Tempest) “Burn, baby, burn.”

(If specialized in Rift Mage) “Ooh, the stuff of nightmares.”

Kills an enemy

“Another one bites the dust.”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Then perish.”

Low Health

“This was not on my agenda today.”

“A little help?”

Low Health (Companions)

For all general companions: “I have your back.”

If in a romance with Solas: “Take a breather, fenorain.”

Fallen Companions

For all general companions: “I'll make them pay!”

If in a romance with Solas: “NO!”

Location Comments

Ferelden:

Hinterlands: “Why is it so big? Why is everything so big?”

Fallow Mire: “I have mud in unmentionable places. Can we go now?”

Storm Coast: “I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and sky.”

If companions question her: “It's just from a poem I once read.”

Orlais:

Exalted Plains: “So much death. Can't you feel it?”

Emerald Graves: “This forest is old. Very old.” [laughs] “I always wanted to say that in proper context.”

Emprise du Lion: “Stay away from the bloody lyrium. And wear a hat.”

At Suledin Keep after Imshael, if Solas is in the party: “Ir abelas, lethallin.” (If romanced) Ir abelas, fenorain.”

Solas's reply (only translated if the Inquisitor is Dalish): “Ma serannas. Ea lam'an.” (It is in the past)

At the Pools of the Sun, regarding the trio of dragons: “Can't we just leave them alone? They really won't hurt anyone if we keep our distance.”

Hissing Waste: “You know, if you ignore the endless vista of sand, it's really quite beautiful. In a bleak kind of way.”

Western Approach: “Hot. Hot and blighted. I need a drink.”

Forbidden Oasis, upon reaching the second camp: “That's it, I'm never leaving.”

Arbor Wilds: “Mind your footing. This place is full of secrets.”

In Val Royeaux: “Pretty place.”

Frostback Basin: “I could stay here forever. Even with the varmints.”

The Descent: “Nice and dark, just the way I like it.”

At the Wellspring: “Wow...that's amazing.”

Trespasser: “Now it all ends, my friend.”

If the Inquisitor questions the statement: “You'll see soon enough.”

Companion/Advisor comments

Varric – Gotta watch out for Spooky, there's something about her I can't put my finger on.

Cassandra – She is an able fighter, but I would not trust her out of my sight, which is far too often.

Solas – She is secretive by nature, but I would assure you that she means no harm.

Iron Bull – She's a tricky one. Good fighter, lotta secrets. Good at keeping them too. I don't think I've cracked a single one that she didn't tell me herself.

Dorian – She's fascinating. I am not at liberty to say why, of course, if you don't already know.

Cole – Bright as the sun and scattered as the stars. She wants to help, just like I do.

Vivienne – She seems capable enough, my dear. But I would not dare to trust her. She is an accomplished player of the Game, for all her smiles and good cheer.

Sera – She's as bad as Creepy, although she's better at jokes. She's better at hiding than I am!

Blackwall – She knows something. She knows too many somethings.

Josephine – She keeps to herself and has caused no diplomatic incidents. I wish I could say the same for some of the others gathered here.

Leliana – I find it curious that I cannot find any solid evidence of her existence before the Conclave, but that does not automatically mark her a spy. However, her nature makes me no more inclined to trust her. I would be wary of her.

Cullen – Who? Oh, the...shadowy...person. I hear she can handle herself. I can't say I've spoken with her, so I don't have an opinion.

Trespasser

There is a unique dialogue tree available to the Inquisitor while speaking with Solas if Nydha was recruited as a companion.

“Did you know about Nydha?”

“Yes, I am the one who gave her her name. I found her while I yet slept, and she became corporeal after the Breach.”

(First branch) “Is she one of your agents?”

“No. She has only ever been my friend.”

(Special, if not romanced) “Your friend? It seemed to be more than that.”

“In another world, perhaps.”

(Second branch) “Is she joining you?”

“No, I would not wish her on this path.”

(Third branch) “She knew this whole time. Why didn't she tell me?”

“She had her reasons for not telling you. (If high approval) I hope you will not hold them against her.”

Regardless of approval, Nydha disappears after the Exalted Council. She settles in the Frostback Basin among the Avvar. A high approval Inquisitor will receive correspondence from her from time to time, but she will refuse to come back to the 'civilized' nations of Thedas, preferring privacy and isolation.

Trivia

If in the party during Here Lies the Abyss, the Nightmare demon will speak to her in Elvish. Her reply is a scoff and nothing else.

Nydha can be a third option at the Vir'Abelasan if she is in the party. If she is chosen to drink from the Well, Abelas does not object, although he will still point out that she will be bound as they are. If Nydha drinks, she will summon Flemeth and work with the Inquisitor to tame the dragon for the final confrontation with Corypheus. If she is in the party during Trespasser, she will be able to provide the password to the spirit guards, preventing a fight.

If Morrigan is allowed to attack Abelas, she will attempt to defend him and will argue that the witch is not worthy of the knowledge she seeks if brutality is her only way to get it. If there is a peaceful alliance with the Sentinels and Morrigan is chosen to drink, Nydha will slightly disapprove but hold her tongue on the matter.

If the Inquisitor drank from the Well, and succeeds in finding enough clues to determine that Solas is Fen'Harel, Nydha will appear saddened when the Inquisitor rebuts to the Viddasala that they already know. She will state that this was what she'd been waiting for. The Inquisitor will have the option to accuse her of knowing the whole time. She will answer yes, but she won't explain.

If Nydha is never recruited, and remains an NPC in the Rotunda, one will hear her occasionally speak with Solas. These conversations range in topic from books they are reading to the mural. Never about Inquisition business. There is a slight chance to hear them speaking in Elvish, and their words are not translated, regardless of Inquisitor's race. Solas's replies appear to be noncommittal.

Nydha will remark upon the Inquisitor's romantic choices, usually with something supportive and a hope that they are happy together. She will also comment something generally pleasant about each companion if asked. The exception to this is if Iron Bull remains Ben-Hassrath. Nydha will caution the Inquisitor to be careful of telling him too much since his loyalty is now unknown.

It can be implied from various interactions and from high approval conversation that Nydha was in fact aware of everything that would happen during the course of the game. She never gives a reason for keeping her silence on matters pertaining to what foreknowledge she had, although any input given during the game events is sound and often given in such a way so as not to risk suspicion.

It can also be implied that regardless of what Solas says during Trespasser, Nydha has actually left the Inquisition to join his ranks, or at least does not stand opposed to him. This is not confirmed, however, and according to her epilogue card, she is enjoying a quiet life in the Frostback Basin with no intention of ever interfering with Thedosian politics or events again.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you, but do you have any good "enemies to lovers" recs, may they be books or movies?

I neeeever am bothered by people asking for recommendations.  Those are my favorite asks because I am nothing if not in love with my own opinions, lol

Books

Obviously, The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn, the best Bridgerton book, because I’ve been blogging about it lol.  If you haven’t read it, it’s basically “rake tries to seduce the beauty of the ton, beauty’s older sister cockblocks him, he realizes that He Is Into It” 

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne is a classic.  Very light and fluffy contemporary, two people who’ve always hated each other begin competing for the same job and fall in love.

Kate Quinn’s Mistress of Rome series is a saga and the initial big ship of the first book (which you do have to read lol) is not enemies to lovers.  However, the NEXT ship which dominates the last two books of the series (which is four books long, and tbh... I recommend the second book but it’s a prequel and can be skipped technically) is SOOOOOOO GOOD.  It’s really “childhood friends to young lovers to SEVERE ENEMIES still secretly in love” and it’s literally epic lol.  Essentially, the series is set in Ancient Rome and Sabina (very bitchy Roman noblewoman) and Vix (child of a former gladiator, soldier) are friends who I think lose their virginities to each other?  And are in love as kids.  But then she fucks him over and marries the emperor.  Who he actually begins to loyally serve!  But he haaaates Sabina because she.... constantly backstabs him lol.  But he also looooves Sabina and gets off on everything she does.  And she wants him so badly.  And it is delicious.  And I live for it.

Both of the Evie Dunmore books I’ve read, Bringing Down the Duke and especially A Rogue of One’s Own are very enemies to lovers.  In Bringing Down the Duke it’s a bluestocking versus a duke who for political reasons is her enemy.  In A Rogue of One’s Own it’s another bluestocking versus a rake who has known her basically all their lives.  They have to begin working together and fall in looove.

Sarah MacLean LIVES for this trope lol.  Her first true enemies to lovers was Twelve Scandals to Start to Win An Earl’s Heart, in which the heroine is a scandalous young woman and the hero is a duke determined to avoid scandal--and he rebuffed her before the book began, so they hate each other.  But he also has a massive boner around her, of course. 

My favorite MacLean book, A Rogue By Another Name is another “childhood friends turn enemies to lovers”.  The leads, Penelope and Bourne (last name lol) were best friends as kid and he basically fell off after life set in.  Her family now has hold of his ancestral lands, and Bourne essentially blackmails Penelope into marrying him so that he can get those lands, after which she DESPISES him even though they had..... extremely great sex lol.  It’s SUPER GOOD, and it involves borderline voyeurism, which is great.

Then No Good Duke Goes Unpunished is very enemies to lovers.  The heroine was set to become the hero’s stepmother--then he woke up covered in blood with her missing. He then finds out, after years of being despised by society as a presumed murderer, that she is very much alive with a fake identity lol.  It’s WILD.

The Rogue Not Taken is an enemies to lovers roadtrip romance.  The heroine thinks the hero is a horrid rake who purposefully ruins marriages.  He thinks she’s a stuck up brat.  They end up journeying together and he eats her out in a moving carriage.

Theeen there’s Daring and the Duke.  The hero literally thought the heroine was dead (MacLean loves this) and is OBSESSED with her, but she hates him because the man who raised them both basically pitted them against each other after their days of being childhood sweethearts.  It’s very dark and delicious, and there are blow jobs!  Blow jobs don’t happen enough in romances, especially historical romances.  More BJs!  They are fun!

If you’re interested in a dark and BONKERS romance, Desperate Measures by Katee Robert is a retelling of Disney’s Aladdin about a modern Jafar and Jasmine getting together after he takes over her father’s criminal empire.  It’s definitely extremely explicit and a bit fucked up.  The book comes with content warnings; the first sex scene is dubcon.  (Like you’re reading from her perspective and she WANTS IT but she says no.)

Beach Read by Emily Henry is a cute contemporary in which the hero is a literary author and the heroine is a romance novelist.  They find themselves in neighboring beach houses and basically challenge each other to write in the other person’s genre.  Very light enemies to lovers.

A Heart of Blood and Ashes is a fantasy romance by Milla Vane!  Essentially, the hero’s parents were killed by the heroine’s father and he’s out to kill her father and overtake his throne.  Luckily, she’s on board.  But he needs to marry her in order to accomplish his goals.  They do not trust each other whatsoever and torment one another a lot.  For context, within the first fifty pages she gives him a handjob while her hand is covered in her own brother’s blood (and yes, he did kill her brother).  It’s great.

The Worst Best Man is about a wedding planner who suddenly finds herself needing to work with her ex-fiance’s brother... who she holds responsible for her fiance leaving her at the altar.  Very fun and sexy contemporary.

The entire Four Horsemen series by Laura Thalassa.  In each book, the heroine falls in love with a literal embodiment of one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, who is here to bring the end of the world.  VERY heavy enemies to lovers.  Kinda dark at times?  Kinda fucked up at times?  I love it a lot?  It begins with Pestilence; War and Famine have already been released, but Death has not.

From Lukov with Love by Marina Zapata.  It’s a figure skating romance; a down on her luck skater pairs up with a male skater who is extremely successful, and who she’s known for years and hated.  Verrrrry slow burn, but fun.

Movies

The Proposal, of course, starring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds.  You’ve probably seen this, but the setup is that she’s his evil boss, he’s her assistant, and she’s about to lose her visa so she bribes him into marrying her so that she can get citizenship.  But ruh-roh, they have to go to Alaska for his family reunion and he’s also got a great body and is like, an Alaskan Rockefeller?  

Obviously, Clueless which is enemies to lovers by way of former stepsiblings, and also by way of the only valid retelling of Emma.  Emma itself is not enemies to lovers, really, but Clueless amps that aspect up a bit.

If you want a super tragic version, warning lol--House of Flying Daggers.  It’s a wuxia movie, so melodramatic to the max.  She’s a blind daughter of the leader of a vigilante group, he’s a soldier who’s gone undercover to follow her to their stronghold.  Many reveals and one of my favorite dramatic love stories ensues.

Princess Diaries 2, duh.  Baby Chris Pine?  Anne Hathaway?  PLEASE BITCH.

365 DNI.  If you haven’t watched yet, watch it and thank me later.  The greatest cinematic contribution of the last decade.

Down with Love.  It’s a delightful take on like, 50s/60s sex comedies in which the heroine writes a book that convinces women to ignore love and men, which makes the hero look bad and makes it difficult for him to get laid.  So he sets out to basically.....  wear a different persona?  And seduce her?  It is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen, and I adore it.  Renee Zellweger and Ewan Macgregor have great chemistry in it too.

The Thomas Crown Affair, starring extremely hot Pierce Brosnan and Renee Russo.  She’s an insurance investigator, he’s a billionaire who basically is suspected of stealing priceless works of art because he’s bored.  She investigates him and immediately begins fucking him.  Has a scene where she dances with him while wearing a completely transparent dress.  Then they fuck everywhere in his house.  I have never wanted to be between two people more.

The Painted Veil.  A socialite marries a dorky scientist for convenience, then cheats on him.  He finds out and basically forces her to go to China with him, where he is fighting the cholera epidemic, as an extremely long and petty murder suicide attempt.  But they get to know each other!  And the ice begins to melt!  Warning: tragic but lovely.

Casino Royale YES I SAID THAT.  The James Bond reboot movie that explains why he’s such a whore!!!  HE WAS BROKEN!!!  Basically James Bond is not like... a learned man... in this movie.  So he’s a cocky bastard and the Bond girl is impossibly sexy Eva Green as Vesper, who’s the “money man” on his mission.  They begin as bickering assholes and then fall in love.  But also!  Tragedy!

The animated Anastasia movie is one of the finest enemies to lovers movies of any time, I will defend this forever

Anyway....  Hope this gives you some ideas!  Lol

[bottlecapbaby]

Touchy Subject| Gage/SoSu

Pairing: Porter Gage/Fem!Sole Survivor

word count: 1432 

Summary: Gage doesn’t like being touched. But he’s starting to want to make an exception.

Sole was an intimate person by nature. Despite all her ruthlessness and capacity for sustained cruelty, she could be damn near cuddly. Probably too cuddly for her own good, too. Just another of the many traits working against her and her reputation as Overboss. 

The first time she touched Gage, it felt like ice water had been dumped all over him. And not in the poolside summer fun way, where he was in his swim trunks and totally ready. This was in the ‘he opened the door and the bucket precariously placed on the door fell over and soaked him, his favorite shirt, and all the shit in his pockets’ kind of way. One touch to his forearm and he was holding back a straight up scowl. Needless to say, Gage did not like to be touched.

And she read that, awkwardly withdrawing, leaving the heat from her soft palm behind. The touches did not come for a while after. At the time, he was thankful for it, despite the little tug he felt deep inside his blackened heart whenever he saw her wrist flinch backwards as she caught herself. 

Sometimes, Sole would leave. That’s just the way it was, everyone has their own shit to deal with, no one minded. She was never gone for too long, and compared to Colter’s entire year of doing fuck all, she packed enough action in Nuka-World to last the next decade. Sometimes, when she came back, there’d be some dog on her heels. Sometimes literally. 

The Irish brawler. The wide-eyed French medic. The mouthy reporter. The grouchy merc. A fucking super mutant. 

That last one got her some major reputation points. She even let him in on some of the Pack’s cage matches, where he literally tore apart the competition. 

But no matter who she brought, she was draped all over them for the whole visit. She kept her legs over Piper’s lap while they chatted on the couch. Linked arms with Curie on every elevator ride. Slung her arm around MacCready’s shoulder, and surprisingly he didn’t seem to mind. Even Strong was guided everywhere by the hand. And goddamn if Gage wasn’t starting to feel a little left out. The last time he was touched in a positive way from outside of the context of a casual fuck with some jet-fueled raider chick was… Well, it was that touch from Sole. And before that, his parents. Which left a pretty big gap he hadn’t really bothered to process before. 

Gage. Well known cyclops, tough ass, and manipulator, touch starved after a little touch on the forearm from the boss. Unbelievable. 

—————

Another park down, Safari Adventure, and it had gone to the pack. As if Sole needed any more brownie points from Mason. But how could she not give it to them? Animals were their whole thing, after all. She went straight to the Amphitheater upon their return. The flag had sent the news ahead of time, even if no one admitted that they waited with baited breath to see it raised after she and Gage had been out for a while.

 But she liked to inform the leaders personally. To be polite, to flex that she could do what none of their dumbasses could manage in a whole year in just a few days, or to demand respect and tribute, he did not know. The Pack celebrated her arrival. Gage was largely ignored, but he was fine with that. That was the price he paid for being the right hand man instead of the boss, and he didn’t like to be fussed over anyhow. 

But Mason. That son-of-a-bitch Mason. He got up to see her. Approached her almost tenderly, his form towering over hers. Confidently, but with measured caution, he laid his hands to grasp her shoulders. He leaned in, and she followed. Their foreheads touched, and in theory that may not sound so bad, but right then? It looked like the most important thing in the world. Like they’d established a complete link— total understanding. He lowered a yao guai necklace over her head, one not unlike his own, and that was intentional; it showed her complete acceptance from the Alpha, and therefore, the rest of the Pack. 

“Y’done good by us, Overboss. Kept your promises, and the promises made before you. The Pack thanks you. Now, everyone? Go fuckin’ wild!”

Mason let her sit on his throne— which kinda dwarfed her, by the way— while he sat on the arm. They watched the revelry, sneaking snide remarks to one another which Gage couldn’t hear from where he stood (nearby, but not crowding). The Alpha kept his hand on her shoulder, shooting the older raider a challenging leer. Gage glowered back, against his better judgement. 

When Mason went off to micromanage or whatever the fuck, she called him over. Clearly she didn’t want to yell, but did want to be heard over the noise of the party. Something in him fluttered at the excitement in her voice, which she never bothered to contain. Something about the way she said his name just made it sound a bit better than he’d ever heard it from anyone else. 

He took a knee. So she wouldn’t have to yell, given that he was already much taller than her and her stature had been further reduced in a seated position. He had found himself doing thoughtful shit like that for her, things he’d rather have dropped dead than do for Colter. Something about her made pretty much everyone around want to try a little harder, and he was no exception.

“What’s up, boss?” 

“Thanks for sticking around. Don’t know what I’d do if I was alone out here. You’re not too bored, are you?”

And there she was, being all thoughtful n’ shit when it came to him. He chewed on those words a little more. Surrounded by the Pack, in spitting distance of Mason, she’d be alone, but with Gage right there, she wasn’t? Fuck if that didn’t make him feel an alarming amount of special. The kind of special that gives a man ideas. Makes a man wanna act up. 

“Nah boss, don’t worry about me. I’ve sat through worse. Next time you’re at a disciple party I might have to abandon you, though.”

She giggled. Clear as a bell. She didn’t laugh a lot in public, and he could see why. She had a kiddie kinda laugh when she was really tickled by something. It made him smile every time. Then, her arm moved and her wrist twitched backwards in that telltale way. She was thinkin’ about touching him. And again, maybe against his better judgment, he spoke up. 

“S’okay, boss. You can touch me if you wanna.”

God, had he dreamed of saying that, but never in his imagination did it sound so stupid. The raider cringed inwardly at his own voice. Goddamnit, he was getting soft. She was making him get that way. And he couldn’t bring himself to dislike it. 

“Really? I mean. I do, but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, Gage. Even if I’m your boss, there can be boundaries.”

Sole interpreted the strain in his voice for discomfort with the idea, and for that she worried about him. Just like always; she was always thinking of him and his comfort. There was that little uninhibited twinge of excitement when she said ‘really?’ that was about to fucking end him. On top of that, she said his name again in that sweet, comforting way. He didn’t stand a chance. 

“I mean it, Sole. I mean it,” he all but sighed, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He only used her name like that to make points and be personal, which was seldom. 

She put her hand on the forearm he had resting on the armrest of the chair. Her hand slid its way, slowly, with her hypersensitive to any discomfort. Gage felt like he had to hold his fucking breath, or everything would disappear. It would all end. Her fingertips reached his wrist. He took a chance. 

He uncurled his fingers, and moved to face his palm upwards. Probably the most open body language he’d displayed in years. Her nails tickled him just slightly as her hand continued up his palm, leaving electricity in their wake. Her fingers slid perfectly into the gaps between his. Or at least, that’s how it felt. He mirrored her actions. 

They held hands. 

And honestly? It was more intense and emotional and intimate than anything he’d had before. 

[the-darklings]

can i request for march blurb night in advance?? like a santi/v au where they meet after a few years of v being manager and santi being married (and expecting a kid)? im really curious about how the conversation would go down👀👀

—IN MY PLACE;

⤫ pairing: santino x reader!V

⤫ wc: 2.9k+

⤫ notes: BRO. For context, please read this first. Also, blast “In My Place” by Coldplay for extra feels.

“I’m afraid that I cannot—”

Your head snaps up, the pen in your hand stilling as you raise your head towards the door of your office. Charon’s voice is familiar to you but you rarely hear it anything other than soothing monotonous. The unease, the reluctance—those are not things that you hear often, if at all.

Has that dreadful individual arrived already?

No—no, Charon would have rang to inform you first. The Adjudicator is distant in their ruthless professionalism, but they won’t force their way into your office. They better not.

The door slams open and your fingers rest against the comforting weight of a sharpened blade, tensing. Your role now may be to keep order but very few do it as efficiently as you do. There is a reason why you have become such a renowned manager and it has little to do with kindness.

But—

Something clenches around your heart, your spine, dragging you years back at the sight of the face in front of you.

You haven’t seen him since—

Since Santino came to you personally after the news about his engagement broke—not since you told him face-to-face that the only way to keep his power was to follow through with it. Camorra council was getting antsy for heirs, for the security that comes with a continuous line of succession. He could not delay any further without risking an outright rebellion or attempts to take his power.

The power that’s been in his family since Camorra was founded centuries ago.

He hasn’t changed. Same hair, same irritated expression, same arrogant posture, same fancy suit.

Same intense eyes that latch onto you like he’s been starved for the sight of you.

You try to ignore the stab right into your heart at the glimpse of a golden wedding band around his finger.

You try to ignore the way he exhales slowly, like some invisible weight has dropped away from his shoulders now that he’s in front of you.

“My apologies, Miss,” Charon begins and you drag your eyes to your right hand, rising to your feet. “But I’m afraid Mr D’Antonio was rather…insistent on seeing you. I told him you were busy and unavailable—”

Santino’s lips part, his expression dark, but you speak before he can. “Don’t worry,” you reassure Charon, giving him a measured look. “This will not take long. Please continue with the preparations.”

A polite dismissal.

Charon hesitates. Behind his glasses, his dark eyes slide towards the Italian—one of the most powerful men in the world, now—and if you didn’t know any better you would say that Charon gives Santino D’Antonio a warning look before he nods at you. 

He obeys without another word, closing the office door softly behind himself and all is silent.

You have no idea what to say to him. You told him that he should never see you again. That it would be for the best; a clean break. His presence here, now, is like a knife—a slow, dull, searing knife you could spend days twisting inside your heart. Always just a bit more, just a tiny bit longer; you would hold onto him till you can almost pretend that you’re both happy and free. 

“(Name).”

He seems to choke on your name; exhale it from deep inside his chest, soft and loving and hungry. His eyes journey over your features and you see, feel, taste his longing for you in that simple gesture alone. In turn, you chain your own longing tighter. Chain that part of you that wants to do nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and—

I’ve missed your stupid, sleepy face. 

“Congratulations,” you whisper gently instead, trying to keep the pain from your expression and voice by injecting coolness into your words. “It’s wonderful news. I hope it’s an easy pregnancy—”

“Don’t,” he snarls, his expression twisting with rage as he cuts the distance between you but you step back before he can touch you. “I am not here because of that. I’m—”

“Then why are you here, Santino?”

He exhales loudly, the frame of his body restless as it is tense. Upon closer inspection, you realise that you were wrong. He looks miserable. The bags under his eyes are so deep and dark, he looks at least ten years older. Like the cocky ease with which he’s always held himself has crumbled away into nothing. 

“Why?” he breathes unsteadily, and tries to reach for you again but you pull back again, the back of your thighs almost brushing against your work desk. “Why won’t you let me touch you, amore? Let me. Let me.”

His voice is a wrecked whisper as he steps closer, leaning his face closer while his fingers come to cup your cheeks. He’s as frantic as he is hollowed out, unsteady, and you both exhale when your skin meets his. A shudder rolls across your limbs and you have to swallow down your own relief. You know him intimately; the heat of his palms, the tickle of his breath, the scent of his cologne and the security of his presence by your side.

For a moment you simply stand together, your foreheads almost touching, your breaths mingling. You breathe. Deep, haggard breaths. A part of you wonders if this is the first time in a year since either of you has been able to breathe properly. 

“Mi manchi,” he exhales in the space between you, his voice thick, warped. His fingers trace over the curve of your jaw, breathless, and your palm settles against his chest and the thundering beat of his heart alone betrays him. “So much I can’t sleep at night. Every minute, hm, every minute of every day, you haunt me. Tell me—tell me I am not alone in this sickness. This longing. Please, amore.”

Your fingertips hover over the round curve of his cheek, his chin, and you only offer him a pained, “You’re not.” 

You’ve been just as sick with longing for him as he’s been for you but—

He slams into you. The back of your legs crash against the desk but you don’t care because he’s kissing you and god—

It tears through you like a bolt of lightning, just like the first time you’ve kissed and all the times that followed. All those secret, stolen moments between you. The overwhelming heat that explodes through you every time.

His hands are cupping your face, his tongue eager and desperate as it refamiliarise itself with the taste of you and you lean into him too. Your nails scratch against his neck and he groans—that deep, rumbling sound—his hips pressing against yours and you can feel every inch of him. Every exhale and the heat and the taste of him—

You’re burning. You’re not drowning. You’re burning and you want to burn till there is nothing left of you at all. Till you’re both ash and can blow into the wind together, never to be controlled or dependant on the wills of others ever again. 

Your fingers slip into his hair, and he caresses your cheek, jaw, neck. His other hand trails down your neck and the curve of your breast before settling against your waist, greedy and selfish. His movements are barely controlled—like he wants to rush but knows that he needs to savour this—and you grind yourself into him, making him hiss out a breath when you break apart for a second. 

His self-control has snapped long ago, and his fingers snake around your thighs, coaxing and sensual, and your body knows his, so you obey. With his help, it takes only a tiny boost for you to settle on top of your desk. His slender fingers trace up your skin and your legs part for him, making all the room he might want or need. He slips between them easily, without hesitation; a dance and a play you have done a thousand times before. An effortless shifting and coiling of your limbs and—

And his lips are on your neck, the hollow of your throat, the cut of your collarbone. His burning fingers rest against the back of your neck and you sigh at the hotness of his mouth on your skin. Ravenous. His lips and tongue turn the blood in your veins into liquid flame as he explores. Your own fingers are in his hair again and that welcoming, warming heat in your lower stomach blooms—

“Ti amo così tanto.”

You crash back into reality. 

And with it, you push him back so hard, he stumbles.  

You get off the desk at once, smoothing your clothes as you gasp for breath, trying to not look at him. 

“We can’t—” it sounds like you’re talking through a mouthful of crushed glass but ignore the weakness of your own heart. “We can’t do this anymore, Santino.”

“Why not?”

He barely sounds coherent, but you still don’t look in his direction. Because he has such a way of ripping those walls down. Ever since he’s found a way to do it, he can do it with a blink and you hate him for it. You have to be strong now, more than ever, and you resent the fact that it’s you that has to be strong for the two of you.

You douse the heat in your veins, the inferno in your heart that only he has ever managed to ignite to such a degree, and lift your head.

Santino is breathing so heavily, his shoulders are moving with his inhales and you ignore the wild look in those green eyes of his.

“Because you’re married,” you spit out, pained, forcing the words out even as they shred your heart into ribbons, leaving a gushing, bleeding mess behind. “Because you’re expecting a child. Because there are lines we can’t cross anymore. I’m not that kind of person. We—we can’t be together. It’s time to accept that. Let me go. For your own sake just—”

But he’s shaking his head, his fingers flexing, and he approaches you purposely. Fury deepens the line of his face, sets his jaw into a rigid line. “Never.”  

“Please, Santino. You have a wife—”

“I don’t love her,” he snarls lowly, and stalks even closer, his eyes flashing. His gaze is merciless, almost cruel, as he murmurs his next words to you like a confession. “I will never love her. I can’t stand the sight of her, do you understand that, hm? She repels me in every way. On our wedding night, I imagined it was you.”

God, you don’t want to hear this. You can’t—

“Stop.” 

Your plea goes unanswered as his digits settle on your forearms, and he stares at you imploringly, still effortlessly cruel.  

“When I kissed her, I imagined that I was kissing you, tasting you,” he continues softly, and you shake your head, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block his words out if you don’t see the despondent look on his face. “When I fucked her, I imagined that it was you underneath me, amore mio. I imagined that it was love when I forced myself to touch her and make her feel good. And when I came it was with your name on my lips, not hers. How lucky for me that it only took once, no?”

“Stop,” you growl harshly, and shove him away from you again, your blood roaring in your ears. “Stop it. I don’t want to hear this. I—”

Your eyes burn as you turn your head away, trying to control the tsunami of emotion battering against your heart. 

You don’t want to know about a woman—his wife—who exists in your place now.

Santino is silent, his expression drawn, empty. 

It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair. 

“Do you still love me?”

Your heart stops in your chest for a second, your throat closing up as your head jerks back towards him. 

“You know that I do.”

But it doesn’t make a difference. How you feel never makes a goddamn difference. Life never allows you happiness—not really. It throws you scraps of something good before its torn away from you again and again. 

Alone. Always so terribly, awfully alone.

“I don’t want to see you again,” you tell him quietly, and you feel your heart tear itself into tiny pieces. But it needs to be done. It needs to be. “And I forbid you from ever touching me again.”

He’s so still, he doesn’t look like he’s breathing. His expression frozen, his eyes wide, and lips parted in disbelief.

You place your hand against the back of your desk, gripping it so tightly your fingers ache. Something to anchor you to reality, something to help you ignore the lost look on his face, the bob of his throat as he forces himself to swallow. 

“You have your new life, and I have mine,” you tell him, your words devoid of emotion. “We finally got what we both wanted. Power. Don’t you think we should stop ruining each other’s lives? We should both move on and be happy.”

His gaze is frantic. 

“Don’t do this—” 

A sharp knock interrupts him. Santino’s mouth snaps shut and you turn towards the door.

“Come in.”

The door swings open before you’re even done speaking and Charon’s guarded stare goes straight to Santino as he enters. The tall man regards the Italian coolly for a moment before his head tilts in your direction respectfully. 

“Miss, the Adjudicator has arrived and wishes to see you at once.”

Santino is still staring at you, and every second of silence that stretches between you just leaves you colder and colder. 

You both have power now. But there is a price to pay for everything as he’s always been so fond of reminding you. 

Santino straightens, his chin tilting in that painfully familiar, proud manner and you almost crumble then. He empties his features of that longing and desire. Empties himself of everything till you’re left staring at the shell he projects. 

“This is not happiness, amore,” he says, his voice tinted with resentment, and his hands slip into his pockets. “This is not—”

His eyes go to Charon and he looks up the silent man up and down before his eyes cut back to you. 

“Lo sceglierò sempre te,” he states coldly, and you suck in a breath, gripping the table tighter. “Keep that mind, cara mia.” 

With that, he turns around and stalks out of the office, taking your heart with him. 

His footsteps disappear down the corridor and the silence left behind is so dreadful, you can’t bear to look at Charon.  

Minutes drag, but you can’t seem to get rid of the burn in your eyes. You hiss an angry breath from behind your tightly clenched teeth, and press your palm over your eyes. 

“Am I—”

The lump in your throat won’t let you speak, and you work to get rid of it for another few moments before you finally articulate your thoughts. 

“Am I really that undeserving of happiness, Charon?” you wonder in a fragile, wet whisper. “First John, now Santino. Am I really that awful that I can never be h-happy?” 

Crisp steps draw nearer and you lower your hand, staring at the floor. Charon pulls out a serviette from his pocket, offering it to you but you only shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“You more than deserve happiness, Miss,” he says quietly, almost kindly, and your watery stare raises to his face. “After all you have been through, it is not selfish to desire for such a thing.”

He puts the serviette back into his pocket and seems to hesitate. “Permission to speak freely, Miss?”

Your eyebrows knit. “Always.”

Charon sighs faintly, his head tilting slightly as he gives you a piercing look. “I do believe that if Sir were here, he would tell you to the hell with the rules. Go with your heart as they say.” 

You chuckle weakly, glancing towards the floor before your eyes lift back to the man before you again. “Winston cared about rules above all else.”

Charon’s eyebrow arch into a pointed line. “I do believe, Miss, that it would not be presumptuous for me to say that he cared about you even more. This hotel has always been more than a job, more than a duty to him—it was Sir’s legacy and he entrusted it to you because he believed you could lead better than anyone. But not at the expense of your own happiness.”

Inhaling deeply, you clear your throat, pressing your fingertips against the corners of your eyes. 

“Would you like me to contact Mr D’Antonio—”

“No.”

Charon’s expression slackens with surprise, and you give him a firm look. 

“We have business to attend to,” you tell him resolutely, wiping your face of emotion, of vulnerability you showed him because you trust him just as Winston once did. “Like you said, we have a legacy to uphold. Let’s go and show that terrible, annoying Adjudicator what we’re made of.”   

Charon stands taller, his posture ramrod straight, and he inclines his head with that cool professionalism. “Of course, Miss,” he says, but you see the sadness buried deep in that dark stare. “As you wish.”

Santino has his new family. 

And you have yours. 

It’s time to wake up and live in reality. 

… 

an: AS IF I WAS GONNA WAIT FOR A MONTH FOR THIS PAIN FEST. I would have written this sooner but this ask came through in the middle of my 48 hour COA 11 lockdown and then I had work. But maaaaaan. The pain of this AU………it hit differently. We are here to suffer and suffer only. Hope you “enjoyed” it!!!     

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: The Top 10 Anime OPs of 2020 According to YOU!

  As we near the voting period for the Anime Awards where we will collectively determine the anime bests of the year 2020, the well-worn adage of “never skip the OP” comes to mind. I’m confident we’ll make the best choice, but there were many great OPs this year that won't make the cut to be highlighted in the nominations. So let’s take a look back at some of the year’s greatest not determined by our admittedly extremely qualified panel of judges, but by numbers and you, the fans.

  We’ve been posting up OPs on YouTube all year and have even made a playlist for 2020 — so what better way to unbiasedly look at the year's best than with the most important votes of all? Views. Below I’ve composed a Top 10 list of anime OPs featured on Crunchyroll Collection YouTube Channel by views at 30 days so as not to give an unfair advantage to OPs posted earlier in the year. This is not a perfect metric — as I’ll get into a bit later — but delivers either an interesting look at what people have been watching this year or, at the very least, some great new additions to your playlist on YouTube ...

  10. Black Clover - "Everlasting Shine" by TOMORROW X TOGETHER

    The collision of anime and K-pop will become a theme on this list, so it’s only natural that it should begin with the collaboration between TOMORROW X TOGETHER and the anime that has never missed an OP. Black Clover hit off its next slate of anime-original content under the supervision of Yuki Tabata with a killer opening highlighting the magic knight captains. "Everlasting Shine" cleared 800k views in its first month and joined the series’ killer playlist snuggly between songs by Snowman.

  9. HAIKYU!! TO THE TOP - "Phoenix" by BURNOUT SYNDROMES

    BURNOUT SYNDROMES brought in the new year with a bang, heralding the beginning of Haikyu’s spring tournament arc with yet another absolute banger of an OP to compete with their own iconic "Hikare Are" and "Fly High!" Phoenix rose to claim 900k views in 30 days, especially impressive since Karasuno had no highlight opponents facing them down in the first half of the new TO THE TOP season.

  8. Black Clover - "Stories" by Snowman

    Black Clovers 11th OP had a lot of weight to carry introducing the first post-manga content the anime had to offer and nailed it with a Snowman collaboration so good that the group not only got signed to return for OP 13, but Daisuke Sakuma voiced an anime-original character designed just for him in Episode 140. "Stories" came just under 1 million views in its first month at 950k, joining the pantheon of hit Black Clover OPs.

  7. Rent-a-Girlfriend - "Centimeter" by the peggies

    I don’t know about you, but ever since Sarazanmai’s spectacular ED "Stand by Me" featuring the peggies, I’ve been waiting for more anime music by the group, and it is absolutely not a surprise to see their next collaboration on this list. They delivered an absolutely addictive song which TMS elevated with some great dance moves and brilliant color work. A smart move, as we’ll see later in this list.

  No metric for measurement is perfect and "Centimeter" may be the best example of where this list sells an OP short. The song barely cleared 1 million views in its first month and placed the peggies in the Number 7 spot, however, the viewership on Rent-a-Girlfriend’s OP has only accelerated since, and it now sits comfortably at 6 million views, tying it for second place in overall viewership. Looking back again in another six months, it might even be Number 1 ...

  6. Black Clover - "Black Catcher" by Vickeblanka

    The original Black Clover OP artists returned to close out the anime’s last wildly-escalating manga-adapted arc with a killer OP that got served up twice. First in a dark black-and-white aesthetic going into the series climactic battle, then again in brilliant color after the conclusion of the epic conflict. 

  "Black Catcher" brought in 1.1 million views in what is an astonishing sweep in popular viewership for this list. Every OP Black Clover dropped this year made it into the top 10. A spectacular feat for a series that serves up a new one every cour.

  5. Re:ZERO Season 2 - "Realize" by Konomi Suzuki

    In a series so notorious for outright ignoring it’s OP and/or EDs for the majority of its episodes to pack in as much extra time as possible for Subaru’s continued suffering, it’s absolutely amazing how quality each of its OPs has been. "Realize" rapidly ascended to 1.5 million in its first month and has since aged like a fine wine as the events of the series slowly added context to many of the unusual and intriguing visuals therein.

  4. JUJUTSU KAISEN - "Kaikai Kitan" by Eve

    Launching one of the most anticipated new series in years and adapted by studio MAPPA, who has acted as the headline studio of 2020 with multiple hit productions, "Kaikai Kitan" was a shoo-in for this list. JUJUTSU KAISEN didn’t disappoint with a slick OP directed by one of the all-time animation greats and Naruto alumni Shingo Yamashita. "Kaikai Kitan" cleared 2 million in its first 30 days, and if anything, is only accelerating as the series’ sterling production continues to draw more fans. Also, TOHO released the video early on their own channel, where it’s performing even better.

  3. Boruto - "Hajimatteiku Takamatteiku" by Sambomaster

    This ED stands out as a love letter to Naruto in an anime that is essentially one big love letter to Naruto. Returning to the franchise after crafting what may have been the original Naruto’s most iconic OP, "Rhapsody of Youth," Sambomaster delivers yet another bop, while Pierrot seeded the visual sequence with references to many iconic Naruto OP visuals. "Hajimatteiku Takamatteiku" cleared 2 million views in its first month and was the perfect introduction for the series' slow build toward the manga’s Kara arc.

  2. The God of High School - "Contradiction" ft. Tyler Carter by KSUKE

      Subtlety is not The God of High School’s thing and "Contradiction" dropped like a punch in the face with some completely wild visuals and music. Techno doesn’t often make appearances in anime OPs, so a song composed by KSUKE featuring the American metalcore vocalist of Issues, Tyler Carter, was a galaxy away from ordinary even in a year where an avalanche of K-pop has been dropping into anime. The accompanying visuals could only be described as aggressive with fight scenes set under a color-swapped psychedelic blacklight style effect. 2.5 million viewers tuned in in the first month, and the song recently cleared 6 million to continue competing with Rent-a-Girlfriend's "Centimeter" from the same season.

  1. Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! - "Easy Breezy" by chelmico

    It really couldn’t have been anyone else. Storyboarded by Masaaki Yuasa himself and animated with some surprisingly analog techniques by the talented French animator Abel Gongora, "Easy Breezy" cleared 3 million views in its first month and has breezed its way past 10 million over the course of 2020. This OP was easy, it was breezy, and it was super meme-y. The riffs of the girls of Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! dancing to chelmico’s addicting tune were absolutely legion and for good reason, the loud colors, the simple style, and the Drake references were a perfect breeding ground for some truly inspired fan content, making it, in my opinion, the only choice for OP of the Year for 2020.

  Gotta say I’m overjoyed to see Eizouken at the top of the list even after spending half a year working that earworm out of my head, as well as so much love for Black Clover's OPs which have really been an achievement in quality even against Pierrot’s own storied legacy in Naruto and Bleach music.

  And don’t think I’m stopping here. While many fans studiously never skip the OP, I also never skip the ED ...

  What's your favorite OP from this list? Let us know in the comments. And tune in tomorrow for the top EDs of 2020 according to YouTube!

      Peter Fobian is an Associate Producer at Crunchyroll, writer for Anime Academy and Anime in America, and an editor at Anime Feminist. You can follow him on Twitter @PeterFobian.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features! 

By: Peter Fobian

[feed-the-birdss]

Take Me Away

Thank you so much to @blitheringmcgonagall and @jilystar04 who tagged me in the Motivation Monday yesterday. It really helped me to finish this. Also, a thanks to @petals-to-fish and @flippin-fins who are another two big motivators of mine!!

Author’s Note: I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus due to a mixture of travelling, birthday festivities and health reasons. However, I’ve had this idea for a while now, and I really wanted to share it before I leave for my next big trip. I hope you all enjoy, and it’s loosely based on the song “Cowboy Take Me Away” by the Dixie Chicks.

Read it on Fanfic

The flat was quiet—too quiet. There were pieces of parchment scattered all over the floor accompanied with the occasional ink blot. Opened and half-empty containers were strewn across the countertops and tabletops of the kitchen with labels like “Aconite”, “Ginger”, “Frog Brain”, “Dragon’s Blood” and “Boomslang”. On the stove was a large pewter cauldron with purple steam billowing out of it. And on the window ledge, with an empty wine glass on the floor next to her sat Lily Evans. Her knees were tucked in close to her chest, with an elbow resting on one knee, and her head in her hand.

Her dark and puffy green eyes were wearily following the movements of the grey clouds in the sky searching for even the smallest sign of sunshine. It’s been so cold and rainy lately, thanks to the dementors, that she’s forgotten what the sun looked like. Even it if it were sunny outside, she doubts she would be enjoying it. She’s either in the flat working on potions for the Order, under James’ invisibility cloak running after and spying on likely Death Eaters, or so focused on duelling a Death Eater and escaping death that her surroundings are not even noticeable to her.

Lily misses the earth. When she was little, she was always playing outside. Her mother and sister would often berate her for her constantly dirty dresses. Yet, little Lily would frolic bare-footed in the green grass and dirt without a care in the world. Now she’s lucky if she has the time to take a simple stroll through a park with shoes on.  

Severus and she used to lie under the large Elm tree by her house and make the falling leaves magically race each other to the ground. Lily once begged her mother to let her and Severus camp out there for the night, but Rose Evans wouldn’t even hear of it. She never trusted that “Snape boy”, and while Lily always believed that was Petunia’s influence, her mother’s concerns ended up being spot-on in that regard.

However, camping was sounding pretty great to Lily right about now. She could finally take the chance to just touch the earth and feel it in her hands without worrying about the Death Eater throwing killing curses at her every second. She could frolic among the wild and unruly plants like she used to when she was a little girl. The corners of her lips started to quirk up at the thought.

Right at that moment, the unmistakable sound of someone apparating outside the door met Lily’s ears which was proceeded by her and James’ secret knock. Lily went up to the door and asked through it, “Who is Luke Skywalker’s father?”

“Darth Vader,” asserted James.

Lily undid the lock and opened the door to find James pointing his wand at her with a teasing smirk on his face. He never could take this security measure seriously. “Who was your best shag?” he asked confidently.

“Sirius, obviously,” Lily responded with a smirk that echoed the one that quickly vanished from his face at her response.

“Not funny Evans,” he pouted.

“Well you know what Dumbledore said last meeting, the Death Eaters have Sev—uhh—well,  their own Potions Master, and we should be prepared for the possibility that they’re making Polyjuice Potion,” she sighed, turned around and headed to the kitchen to check on her potion.

James was going to continue whinging about her cruel joke, but once she brought up her ex-best friend’s current activities, he thought better of it and followed her into the kitchen. “Fine, I’ll ask a better question. When was our best shag?” He asked with the smirk back on his face as he walked up to Lily, whose head was bent over the cauldron, and put his arms around her waist.

Lily rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up on her face, “You’re such a prat,” she said as she turned around in his arms, put her arms up to his neck, and reached her face to kiss his. James greedily returned the kiss, pulling her even closer against him and lifting up her shirt a little so that his hands were touching the soft skin of her waist. Lily’s hands moved from the nape of his neck into his messy black hair as she sucked on his bottom lip.

Just as James’ hands were about travel South in order to pick her up and carry her to their bed, a gentle tapping noise interrupted them. Both of them turned their heads toward the noise to see Sirius’ owl, Owl, at the window with a slip of parchment attached to its claw. Lily detached from James, and as she walked over to the window she said, “And our best shag was that time a few months ago on Remus’ bed.”

“Too right, it was,” James smiled and sighed, “And yet, Remus couldn’t find it in him to be happy for us.”

“Well love, to be fair, I mean, you still give Sirius shit for shagging uh…whats-her-name, on your bed in sixth year.”

“Yeah, well, this was me and you, a couple Remus loves and knows dearly. Sirius fucked a stranger he hasn’t spoken to since. There’s a difference.”

Lily rolled her eyes, an occurrence that happens quite a lot whenever she’s around James, as she opened the window and untied the scroll from the Owl’s leg.

James—me and Remus are going to Hog’s Head for drinks with a few other members tonight, are you and Lily in? (Peter’s a no-show…again…bloody rat)

Lily quickly read the note and handed it over to James with a sigh. She loved everyone in the order dearly, she honestly didn’t know what she would do without them in this mess of a war, but she needed something different right now. Going to the Hog’s Head for drinks was the only fun thing order members could do together without drawing attention to themselves and blowing their cover; so they do it quite often.

“Do you want to go Lils?” asked James.

Just as Lily was about to, begrudgingly, say yes, she remembered something, and her eyes glimmered with excitement as she looked at James, “James, I’m going to go camping,” she stated.

“Okay….so…uh…wait, is that a ‘no’ to the drinks then?” baffled James with furrowed brows.

“Yes.”

“So…’yes’ to the drinks?” he puzzled again.

Lily rolled her eyes, “For someone who got seven NEWTs, you’re awfully dense sometimes. It’s a ‘no’ to the drinks, because tonight, we’re packing up and getting ready to go camping tomorrow morning.”

James’ brows were still furrowed in confusion, and his mouth kept opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. To Lily’s relief, he finally uttered something, “Can you just repeat that please, and maybe offer me some, like, well, much-needed context?”

“Uh..right, that’s probably a good idea. So, again, no to drinks because we are going to camping tomorrow morning. Why are we going camping—well, because I need this James. I need this.” James’ look softened at the desperation in her voice, “I have been going mad lately. I feel like my whole world has just become running into battles, hiding from Death Eaters and potions. I want to experience the earth again.”

“You want to experience the earth again?” James asked with a teasing smirk.

“Fuck yes. Make fun of it all you want. I know it sounds cheesy, but I know you know what I mean James Potter. Like…don’t you miss the earth? We’re in bloody London all the damned time. I mean…you haven’t gone out with Remus and the boys for a full moon in months. You can’t not tell me you’re not going a little mad here,” Lily ranted. “I want to just walk through a forest, where there’s no building in site, only trees and grass, and leaves. I want it to just be me for miles and miles.”

“What about me?”

Lily smiled and put her arms around his waist, “I guess I want you there too. Merlin knows I don’t really want to experience this earth again without your smile there with it,” she assured pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“What about the cold?”

“The stars will be our blanket,” teased Lily

“Uh…what?”

“James, are you a wizard or not? We can handle the actual camping parts of this magically.”

“Right,” nodded James in agreement. Yet something in the stiffness of his body, and the slight furrow left in his brows told Lily he was still hesitant. Come to think of it, James has been acting kind of shady like this for the past few weeks.

“Do you not want to?”

“No, it’s not that at all. I think I need this just as much as you,” he assured, “it’s just that, I mean, well we had those special dinner plans for tomorrow night.”

“We can cook ourselves a nice dinner tomorrow night love.”

James sighed, and nodded slowly, “That’s true I guess.”

“Don’t you want to go flying love? I want to ride your broom. I haven’t done it in so long.”

James smirked, “I want you to ride my broom too Evans.”

Lily ignored the obvious innuendo in his statement, and said “Great, let’s get packing then.”

“Um, right okay, I’ll go cancel those reservations and the…uh some other stuff, and I’ll let Dumbledore and the order know we’re going to take the next few days off.”

The next night, after a day of frolicking in the grass, walking and not running, and flying in a clear blue sky without a building in sight, Lily was snuggled within the comfort of James’ arms under a blanket of stars. The sound of their laughter played in harmony with the chirping crickets and the rustling of the leaves as the wind breezed through them. She and James always manage to have fun together, but this was different. They could have fun without worrying for right now. Even after their day on his broom, she hasn’t felt this free since she found out she was a witch, and she’s never felt closer to James than she had on this day.

After bickering and laughing about whether or not the dog star was named as such because it’s twinkle was kind of shaped like a dog, Lily turned her head towards his and asked, “So are you finally ready to tell me why you’ve been acting shady the past few weeks?”

James chuckled and sighed happily, “You know what…yeah, I actually am.” He turned his head to meet her eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” smiled Lily moving her head in for a kiss, but James used the arm she was lying on to lift a very confused Lily up on to her feet instead.

Once they stood face to face, stars still twinkling above them, surrounded by only trees, grass, flowers and wildlife, James’ hands lightly against Lily’s waist, did James say, “I originally wanted to do this after that dinner we were supposed to have tonight at this fancy muggle restaurant in London, where after I was going to take you to Hog’s Head with all of our friends waiting there.” Lily was starting to see where this was going, and her eyes widened. “Once we got there, Sirius was going to start playing that muggle love song you love so much by that Elvin guy on that mini guitar thing I begged him to learn how to play,” her widened eyes softened with her chuckle and started to glisten with tears, “then I was going to get down on one knee,” James got down on one knee, “pull out my grandmother’s ring,” James pulled out his grandmother’s ring, “and say this: ‘This war is the worst thing that has ever happened to the wizarding world, and yet, you still manage to keep me smiling. Do me the honor of making me smile for the rest of my life, and let me do the same for you. Lily Evans, will you marry me?’”

Just as Lily was about to respond, James snapped the box shut, got up and said with a smirk, “It’s too bad you wanted to go camping instead.”

Lily’s mouth opened in shock, “James!” she exasperated punching him in the arm.

James laughed, “I’m kidding Lils! Only kidding! This place is a way better spot for a proposal…how’d you put it again? Blanket of stars? Now that’s just pure poetry. So this is really the best possible place for you to agree to put up with my shit forever,” he teased, “so what do you say Evans?” he asked opening the ring box once again, “Will you continue to put up with my shit for all eternity?”

Lily rolled her eyes, “Sounds good to me,” she said with a smile as she jumped into his arms and proceeded to kiss him.

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: The Basic Concepts of Islam: Part 5

The Concept of Morality

The concept of morality in Islam centers around certain basic beliefs and principles. Among these are the followings: (1) God is the Creator and Source of all goodness, truth, and beauty. (2) Man is a responsible, dignified, and honorable agent of his Creator. (3) God has put everything in the heavens and the earth in the service of mankind. (4) By His Mercy and Wisdom, God does not expect the impossible from man or hold him accountable for anything beyond his power. Nor does God forbid man to enjoy the good things of life. (5) Moderation, practicality, and balance are the guarantees of high integrity and sound morality. (6) All things are permissible in principle except what is singled out as forbidden, which must be avoided. (7) Mans ultimate responsibility is to God and his highest goal is the pleasure of his Creator. The dimensions of morality in Islam are numerous, far-reaching and comprehensive. The Islamic morals deal with the relationship between man and God, man and his fellow men, man and the other elements and creatures of the universe, man and his innermost self. The Muslim has to guard his external behavior and his manifest deeds, his words and his thoughts, his feelings and intentions. In a general sense, his role is to champion what is right and fight what is wrong, seek what is true and abandon what is false, cherish what is beautiful and wholesome and avoid what is indecent. Truth and virtue are his goals. Humbleness and simplicity, courtesy and compassion, are his second nature. To him, arrogance and vanity, harshness and indifference, are distasteful, offensive and displeasing to God. More specifically, the Muslims relationship with God is one of love and obedience, complete trust and thoughtfulness, peace and appreciation, steadfastness and active service. This high – level morality will, undoubtedly, nourish and reinforce morality at the human level. For in his relationship with his fellow men, the Muslim must show kindness to the kin and concern for the neighbor, respect for the elderly and compassion for the young, care for the sick and support for the needy, sympathy for the grieved and cheer for the depressed, joy with the blessed and patience with the misguided, tolerance toward the ignorant and forgiveness of the helpless, disapproval of the wrong and rise above the trivial. Moreover, he must respect the legitimate rights of others as much he does his own. His mind must be occupied with constructive ideas and serious pursuits; his heart must beat with compassionate feelings and goodwill; his soul must radiate with peace and serenity; his counsel must be sincere and courteous. The Muslims moral obligation is to be a vivid example of honesty and perfection, fulfill his commitments and perform his tasks well, seek knowledge and virtue by all possible means, correct his mistakes and repent his sins, develop a good sense of social consciousness and nourish a feeling of human response, provide for his dependents generously without extravagance and meet their legitimate needs. Nature and the world are the field of exploration and the object of enjoyment for the Muslim. He must utilize their elements and ponder their marvels, read them as signs of Gods greatness and preserve their beauty, explore their wonders and discover their secrets. But whether he uses them for utility or for sheer enjoyment, he must avoid waste and excess. As a responsible agent of God and a conscientious trustee, he must always be mindful of others who share the world with him and who will succeed him in the future. The moral principles of Islam are sometimes stated as positive commitments which must be fulfilled and sometimes as negative prescriptions which must be avoided. Whether they are stated positively or negatively, they are designed to build in the human being a sound mind, a peaceful soul, a strong personality, and a healthy body. There is no doubt that these are necessary requirements of the general welfare and prosperity of mankind. And to help man to satisfy these requirements Islam has, among other things, laid down the following regulations: 1. To bear witness to the Oneness of God and the Messengership of Muhammad in a meaningful committal way; 2. To observe the daily prayers regularly; 3. To pay the religious tax known as alms or the poor-due (zakah); 4. To keep the fast of the Holy Month of Ramadan; 5. To make a pilgrimage to the Holy City of Mecca at least once in his lifetime. The moral and social implications of these regulations will be discussed later in detail. Besides these positive measures, there are others which may be called preventive and precautionary ones. To protect man from insanity and degeneration, from weakness and indulgence, from indecency and temptation, Islam has prohibited certain things pertaining to food, drinking, recreation, and sex. Among these are the following: 1. All kinds of intoxicating wines, liquors, and spirits (Quran, 2:219; 4:43; 5:93-94); 2. The meat and products of swine (pork, bacon, ham, lard), of wild animals that use claws or teeth to kill their victims (tigers, wolves, leopards, etc.), of all birds of prey (hawks, vultures, crows, etc.), of rodents, reptiles, worms and the like, of dead animals and birds that are not slaughtered properly (Quran, 2:172-173; 5:4-6); 3. All forms of gambling and vain sports (Quran, 2:219; 5:93-94); 4. All sexual relations out of wedlock and all manners of talking, walking, looking and dressing in public that may instigate temptation, arouse desire, stir suspicion, or indicate immodesty and indecency (Quran 23:5-7; 24:30-33; 70:29-31). This Act of Prohibition is introduced by God for the spiritual and mental well-being of man as well as for the moral and material benefit of humanity. It is not an arbitrary action or a self-imposed intrusion from God. On the contrary, it is a sign of Gods interest in the welfare of humanity and an indication of His good care for man. When God prohibits certain things, it is not because He wants to deprive man of anything good or useful. It is because He means to protect man and allow him to develop a good sense of discrimination, a refined taste for the better things in life, and continued interest in higher moral values. To achieve this, good care must be taken of man’s spirit and mind, soul and body, conscience and sentiments, health and wealth, physique and morale. Prohibition, therefore, is not deprivation but enrichment, not suppression but discipline; not a limitation but expansion. To show that all prohibitions are acts of mercy and wisdom, two Islamic principles are worth mentioning in this connection. First, extraordinary circumstances, emergencies, necessities, and exigencies allow the Muslim to do what is normally forbidden. As long as these circumstances exist and to the extent that he cannot help the situation, he is not to blame if he fails to observe the moral rules of God (see Quran, 2:173; 5:4). Secondly, God has inscribed for Himself the rule of mercy: any who do evil out of ignorance, but thereafter repent and amend their conduct, will be forgiven; surely God is Merciful and Oft-forgiving (Quran, 6:54). In a remarkable, typical passage, the Quran has laid down the grounds and philosophy of sound moral conduct. The passage may be rendered as follows: O Children of Adam! Wear your beautiful apparel at every time and place of prayer; eat and drink, but waste not by excess, for God loves not the wasters. Say: Who has forbidden the beautiful gifts of God, which He has produced for His servants, and the things, clean and pure (which He has provided) for sustenance? Say: 'They are, in the life of this world, for those who believe, (and) purely for them on the Day of Judgement. thus do We explain the Signs in detail for those who understand, Say: The things that my Lord has indeed forbidden are: shameful deeds, whether open or secret, sins and trespasses against truth or reason; assigning of partners to God – and saying things about God of which you have no knowledge (Quran 7:31-33). The range of morality in Islam is so inclusive and integrative that it combines at once faith in God, religious rites, spiritual observances, social conduct, decision making, intellectual pursuits, habits of consumption, manners of speech, and all other aspects of human life. Because morality is such an integral part of Islam, the moral tone underlies all the passage of the Quran and the moral teachings are repeatedly stressed in various contexts throughout the Holy Book. This makes it difficult to devise any reasonably brief classification of these moral teachings according to their citations in the Quran. Every principle is mentioned many times in various contexts. It appears either as a single significant principle or as an element of a total system of morality, which itself is an element of a complete religious supersystem. In view of this, the following passages must be taken only as representative selections from the Quran, rendered and interpreted by human endeavors which, inevitably, fall short of the perfection of the original and complete version of the Book. Serve God, and join not any partners with Him; and do good; - to parents, kinsfolk, orphans, the needy ones, neighbors who are near, neighbors who are strangers, the companion by your side, the wayfarer (you meet), and what your right hands possess (captives, slaves, animals, birds, etc.): For God loves not the arrogant, the vainglorious; - (Nor) those who are niggardly or enjoin niggardliness on others, or hide the bounties which God has bestowed on them; for We have prepared for those who resist Faith a punishment that steeps them in contempt; (Nor) those who spend of their substance, (out of hypocrisy) just to be seen of men, but have no faith in God and the Last Day. If any take the Evil One for their intimate what a dreadful intimate he is! (4:36-38). Say (O Muhammad): Come, I will rehearse what God has (really) prohibited you from: join not anything as equal with Him; be good to your parents; kill not your children on a plea of want; for We provide sustenance for you and for them; And come not near to the orphans property, except to improve it, until he attains the age of full strength; give measure and weight with full justice; no burden do We place on any soul, but that which it can bear; and whenever you speak, speak justly, even if a near relative is concerned; and fulfill the Covenant of God. Thus does He Command you that you may remember. Verily, this is My Way, leading straight; follow it; follow not (other) paths: They will scatter you about from His Right path. Thus does He command you, that you may be righteous (6:151-153). God commands justice, the doing of good, and kindness to kith and kin, and He forbids all shameful deeds, and injustice and rebellion: He instructs you, that you may receive admonition. Fulfill the Covenant of God when you have entered into it, and break not your oaths after you have confirmed them; indeed you have made God your surety; for God knows all that you do . . . . Whoever works righteousness, man or woman, and has Faith, verily, to him will We give a new Life, a life that is good and pure, and We will bestow on such (workers) their reward according to the best of their actions (16: 90-91, 97). Invite (all) to the way of your Lord with wisdom and beautiful preaching, and argue with them in ways that are best and most gracious; for your Lord knows best, who have strayed from His Path, and who are truly guided (16:125). Who is better in speech than one who calls (others) to God, works righteousness, and says: I am one of those who bow in Islam. Nor can Goodness and Evil be equal. Repel (Evil) with what is best. Then the one between whom and you there was hatred will become as it were your friend and intimate! (41:33-34). Whatever is given to you (here) is (only) a convenience of this Life. But that which is with God is better and more lasting. (It is) For those who believe and put their trust in their Lord; those who avoid the greater crimes and shameful deeds, and when they are angry even then forgive; those who hearken to their Lord, and establish regular prayer; who (conduct) their affairs by mutual consultation; who spend out of what We bestow on them for sustenance; and those who, when an oppressive wrong is inflicted on them, (are not cowed but) help and defend themselves. The recompense for an injury is an injury equal to it (in degree), but if a person forgives and makes reconciliation, his reward is due from God, for God loves not those who do wrong. But indeed if any do help and defend themselves after a wrong (done) to them, against such (persons) there is no cause of blame. The blame is only against those who oppress men with wrongdoing and insolently transgress beyond bounds through the land, defying right and justice. For such (oppressors and transgressors) there will be a penalty grievous. But indeed if any show patience and forgive, that would truly be an exercise of courageous will and resolution in the conduct of affairs (42: 36-43). If any do wish for the transitory things (of this Life), We readily grant them such things as We will, to such persons as We will, but in the end, We have provided Hell for them where they will burn, disgraced and rejected. And those who do wish for the (things of) the Hereafter, and strive therefor with all due striving, and have Faith, - they are the ones whose striving is appreciable (by God.). Of the bounties of your Lord, We bestow freely on all these as well as those: the bounties of your Lord are not closed (to anyone). (17:18-20) Take not with God another object of worship: or you (man!) will sit in disgrace and destitution. Your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him and that you be kind to parents. Whether one or both of them attain old age in your life, say not to them a word of contempt, nor repel them, but address them in terms of honor. And out of kindness, lower to them the wing of humility, and say: My Lord! bestow on them Your mercy even as they cherished me in childhood. Your Lord knows best what is in your hearts. If you do deeds of righteousness, verily He is Most Forgiving to those who turn to Him again and again (in true penitence). After render to the kindred their due rights, as (also) to those in want, and to the wayfarer. But squander not (your wealth) in the manner of a spendthrift. Verily spendthrifts are brothers of the Evil Ones; and the Evil One is to his Lord ungrateful. And even if you have to turn away from them (the said people), in pursuit of the Mercy from your Lord which you do expect, yet speak to them words of easy kindness. Make not your hand tied (like a niggard) to your neck, nor stretch it forth to its utmost reach (like an irresponsible squanderer, if you choose either way), you will become blameworthy and destitute (respectively). Verily your Lord does provide sustenance in abundance for whom He pleases, and He provides in a just measure; for He does know and regard all His servants. Kill not your children for fear of want. We shall provide sustenance for them as well as for you, verily the killing of them is a great sin. Nor come near to adultery; for it is a shameful deed and an evil, opening the road (to other evils). Nor take life – which God has made sacred – except for just cause. And if anyone is slain wrongfully, We have given his heir authority (to demand equal punishment or to forgive). But let him not exceed bounds in the matter of taking a life; for he is helped (by the Law). Come not near to the orphan's property except to improve it, until he attains the age of full strength; and fulfill (every) engagement: for (every) engagement will be enquired into (on the Day of Reckoning). Give full measure when you measure and weigh with a balance that is straight. That is the most fitting and the most advantageous in the final determination. And pursue not that of which you have no knowledge (idle and useless curiosity); for every act of hearing, or of seeing or of (feeling in) the heart will be enquired into (on the Day of Reckoning). Nor walk on the earth with arrogance; for you cannot rend the earth asunder, nor reach the mountains in height. Of all such things, evil is hateful in the sight of your Lord. These are among the (precepts of) wisdom, which your Lord has revealed to you. Take note, with God, another object of worship, lest you should be thrown into Hell, blameworthy and rejected (17:22-39). We bestowed wisdom on Luqman: Show your gratitude to God. Anywho is grateful does so to the profit of his own soul. But if any is ungrateful, verily God is free of all needs, worthy of all praise ..And We have enjoined on man (to be good) to his parents. In travail upon travail did his mother bear him, and in years twain was his weaning. (hear the command), show gratitude to Me and to your parents. To Me is your final Goal. But if they strive to make you join in worship with Me things of which you have no knowledge (or do any wrong), obey them not; yet bear them company in this life with justice (and consideration), and follow the way of those who turn to Me (in love). In the end, the return of you all is to Me, and I will tell you the truth (and meaning) of all that you did O, my Son! (said Luqman): Establish regular prayer, enjoin what is just (and right) and forbid what is wrong; and bear with patient constancy whatever betide you; for this is firmness (of purpose) in (the conduct of) affairs. And swell not your cheek (for pride) at men, nor walk in insolence through the earth; for God loves not any arrogant boaster. And be moderate in your pace, and lower your voice; for the harshest of sounds, without doubt, is the braying of the ass (31:12-19) O you who believe! Intoxicants and gambling . . . are an abomination, of Satans handiwork. Avoid such (abomination), so that you may prosper. Satans plan is only to excite enmity and hatred between you, with intoxicants and gambling, and hinder you from the remembrance of God and from prayer. Will you not then abstain? (5:90-91). But seek, with that which God has bestowed on you, the Home of the Hereafter. Nor forget your portion in this world. But you do good, as God has been good to you, and seek not mischief in the land; for God Loves not the mischief makers (28:77). These selections can be supported by many others from the Quran and the Traditions of Muhammad. In themselves, they are sufficient to portray the fundamental morals of Islam. These Islamic morals are unique in their nature under all circumstances. They are introduced by God not simply to be admired occasionally but to be enforced and effective. They are meant to help the individual to develop his personality and cultivate his character in the most wholesome manner, to strengthen his bonds and consolidate his association with God, the Source of all Goodness. Never were the Islamic morals designed to intimidate the individual and make him passive or indifferent. One example will illustrate the point. If a Muslim is wronged or oppressed, he has the free choice either to resist and retaliate in an equal measure or to forgive and entrust God with the results of his deed. He knows that he is authorized to take either action, and he equally knows that it is better for him to forgive. So when he forgives, he does so with his own free choice for the love of God. Similarly, when he retaliates he is not violating the Law or acting unjustly; he is defending his rights, an attitude which is a sacred duty in itself, and is helping the rightful authorities to establish order and justice. If Islam were to demand absolute forgiveness as some other creeds do in theory, many undisciplined people would be tempted to do wrong and exceed all limits. Likewise, if Islam were to demand only retaliation, as some other creeds uthlessly teach, there would be no room for mercy and patience nor for spiritual reform and moral maturity, in which case many fine qualities of man would subside and many moral potentials may never be actualized. It is common knowledge that the people who are taught to forgive under all circumstances do not, and probably cannot, practice their teachings, because it is not the interest of humanity in the long run, nor is it in the interest of morality itself. Likewise, the people who are taught to practice stern retaliation have little or no respect for human virtues and care less for moral values as universal rules. But Islam, the Divine foster of human nature, has given the right answer to human problems. To those wrongdoers who are looking for a second chance, who may improve or benefit by granting them pardon, forgiveness is recommended and preferable. But against those who might misunderstand the motives of forgiveness or be tempted to pursue the wrong course, equal retaliation is authorized. Thus, the attitude of the Muslim, in either case, is sound and beneficial. When he forgives, he pleases God, retains the upper hand and contributes to the reformation of the delinquent. And when he retaliates, he defends the right, establishes order and justice, and helps to arrest evil. Now, which is sound morality? The attitude of the person who is a ruthless avenger indiscriminately? Or the attitude of a Muslim who makes room for mercy and forgiveness, and who allows for extraordinary circumstances? And who is normally sound? The person who forgives because he knows that he is not allowed to retaliate? Or a Muslim who forgives while he is fully aware that he can lawfully retaliate? Which is real forgiveness? The one resulting from external compulsion and prohibition not to act otherwise? Or the one resulting from freedom of choice and freedom of action? It is no wonder that the moral principles of Islam are sound, unique, and adaptive. They are the instructions of God, the Source of all goodness and morality.

[dubsdeedubs]

An Outreached Hand [7/?]

Summary:  On a cold winter’s day in 1982, Stan Pines shows up at his brother’s door with two cats tucked in his jacket and no heartbeat in his chest.

[AO3]

Notes: I actually posted this like two days ago but didn’t make the Tumblr post for it till now.  Probably says a whole lot about how distanced I’ve been asojioda

There's someone staring at him from across the diner. A waitress, to be more precise, squinting at him suspiciously under heavy purple eyeshadow, a sharp twist to her expression that even his tired mind can read immediately as 'trouble.'

Ford's fairly certain that he has never met her in his life. But then again, his life hasn't been entirely his for several months now.

Lady over there's giving ya a real stinker of a look.

He can't help but start at the echo of Stan's voice in his head. It's... not something he's used to, hearing his brother in what used to be the domain of someone - something entirely different.

He thinks maybe it's something he will ever get used to.

You stiffed her on tips before or what?

Now that Ford thinks about it... no, yes, he had made a visit to this establishment once before. He's sure of it. It had been shortly after Fiddleford had left him, and around when Bill had decided to up the ante where psychological torment was involved. The memory of being surrounded by a dozen pairs of yellow-slitted eyes flashes before his mind's eye, and he grimaces despite himself.

Had this woman been there for that disaster of an attempted breakfast? Did she remember him from his frantic escape?

Not for the first time, he's thankful that for all of his brother's abilities, he either could not - or did not at all want to - read Ford's thoughts.

His left hand lifts itself up and flicks his nose, hard.

Ford flinches, more out of surprise and confusion than any real pain. It takes him a moment to make sense of what had just happened.

"Stanley -"

'Stanley' yourself, his brother says flatly, entirely unamused. You've been sitting for a full ten minutes in this place without moving a muscle. Have ya ever heard of ordering food when you're in a restaurant? Or is that something hermit scientists don't do?

Ford bristles. "I know perfectly well how to order food, I just haven't done it yet because the waitress has been staring at me for the past -"

He blinks, looks again.

In the span of this extremely distracting exchange, said waitress had disappeared entirely from his view.

Ford's mental alarm bells go off almost immediately.

He had long held suspicions about the local townspeople, which were only exacerbated by the recent appearance of mysterious hooded figures around town. And, considering that Bill was perfectly able and entirely willing to manipulate other people to get to him, being around anyone at all was a security breach of the highest magnitude..

The waitress had seen and recognized him. She must have noted that he was here, vulnerable and out in the open without any of the defensive measures he had set up around his home.

There is just one reason he can think of for her disappearing so immediately, and that was to share that information with others.

He knew this was a terrible idea, Ford thinks, heart racing.

He knew, but his brother just wouldn't listen to logic and sense (but why would he, when for all Stanley must have thought, Ford was just being paranoid? Because he couldn't know, not about the extent of Bill's powers, not about what had happened to Fiddleford, not about everything that Ford had been manipulated into being a part of -)

Ford needed to leave, the sooner the better. There was no telling how much time he had left before they - whoever they was, whether the hooded figures or a pawn of Bill or something he had not even anticipated - used his vulnerability to their advantage. He had to -

"Are those wild animals in your coat, mister?" Says a voice right behind him, far too close for comfort.

Ford jolts forward with a sharp noise of surprise that he refuses to call a squeak.

When he twists his head back, eyes wide, the waitress is staring back with a scrunched Look of deep disapproval. He thinks somewhat stupidly that the heavy magenta eyeshadow added magnitudes more to its power.

For a moment, his brain just doesn't process the words.

"Wild - wild animals?" He repeats.

She points down at the two furry heads poking out from the neck of his old trenchcoat.

Mabel - he thinks, it's not nearly as easy to tell the two apart as cats than as children - offers a single cheerful meow.

Ford stares down at them, speechless. He... had entirely forgotten they were there. How had he forgotten about two live animals tucked inches away from his own body?

"We don't allow animals in here," the waitress says with a frown. "Got a sign on the door and everything."

She points at it for emphasis. He stares after her finger for a moment too long, expression slack.

The waitress squints at him. "You alright there, mister?"

Ford, Stanley says flatly, you're useless.

Just like that, his mouth stretches into an entirely unfamiliar kind of grin, slow and flirtatious, the kind of expression Ford doesn't think he has ever made in his life.

"Sure I am, sugar," Stan says smoothly. There's an easy confidence to his words that's enough to make Ford feel just a twinge of envy. "I would ask ya the same thing, uh -" He squints at the messy scrawl on the woman's name tag. "- Susan. But I gotta say, it looks to me like you're doing just fine."

He winks. Ford cringes.

The waitress - Susan, he reminds himself - stares at them for a long moment, looking very flustered. Understandably, Ford thinks to himself, considering that from all appearances, he had switched gears from 'confused' to 'Casanova' at the drop of a hat.

"See, I think there's a little bit of a misunderstandin' here."

"How so, mister?"

"This is a family diner, yeah?" Stanley says. He gestures at the door. "Says it right there. 'Greasy's, for the whole family.' Right above that sign about wild animals."

He squints. "Why - why do you have that sign about wild animals anyways?"

Susan blinks. "Well," she says after a moment, "whaddaya know, it sure does!"

"So thing is. These two here, they ain't 'wild animals.'" His brother pauses, for what Ford highly suspects is just for dramatic emphasis. "They're family."

Her eyes widen. Her jaw drops.

Stan leans in closer slyly, going for the kill. "And this can't be a family diner if the whole family can't eat, right?"

In the privacy of his own mind, Ford lets out a deep sigh. This... was entirely ridiculous. It spoke magnitudes about Stanley that he had thought it would actually work. Everything else aside, they had snuck two full-grown cats into a dining establishment in their coat. There were - there were rules against these things, he was sure, rules that he doubted a waitress would -

"Oh hon," Susan chirps, and slaps them on the back hard enough that they choke on their own spit. "Ya should have said somethin' earlier!"

In the span of what feels like a second, the woman's demeanor had transformed entirely. Easy understanding had replaced suspicion on her broad face, and there was a new friendliness to the way she held herself.

"For a moment there, I figured you were one of those characters that come in marrying woodpeckers and kissing raccoons -"

"One of those -" Ford chokes. "Marrying what?"

"- but I can tell now, you're nothin' like 'em. Heck, I can already tell what you are!"

A chill goes down their back, and he doesn't know if it's from him or Stan. Maybe it doesn't matter.

"And," Ford says slowly, with a tone of vague concern, "what is - that?"

"A kindred spirit, handsome!" Susan winks like she doesn't know how to.

"...Oh."

Aaaaaalright, Stan announces, I did the heavy lifting. You're on your own now, Sixer.

Wait -

Somehow, he can tell that his brother is studiously ignoring him. Ford sighs.

"Family! What a perfect way of puttin' it!" Susan gushes. "You're right, why keep 'em cooped up in there? Let your kitties stretch their legs!"

"Are - are you sure that's alright?" He starts to ask, an eyebrow raised. "The sign -"

"Oh hun, this is Gravity Falls," She scoffs. "Just about everyone around here has seen much, much worse in this diner, I bet ya."

That... did absolutely nothing to ease his worries. Ford nods dumbly, more than slightly alarmed by the casual revelation.

The cats stretch out on the diner table, low and lazy. Which... probably wasn't hygienic, but considering the stains and flecks of unknown substance already present when he had sat down, he supposed a few animal hairs wouldn't do much worse to the establishment's bacterial ecosystem.

Mabel, or at least he thinks it's her, looks between him and Susan. She gives him the feline version of a wink. Ford looks at her in horror.

"What are their names?" Susan asks, drawing close, a soft expression on her face. "Your sweet little fur babies."

"They're my niece and nephew, actually," he corrects quickly, edging away, and realizes too late how odd that statement came out without the benefit of context. "But, ah. Dipper and Mabel."

Susan doesn't seem to mind the slip-up, however. In fact, judging by the extra sparkle in her eyes, that only seemed to endear him to her even more.

"Well, my oldest is Mr. Snookums," she says conspiratorially. "He's getting up there in years, maybe just a year or two older than your kitties here. And then there's Mittens, except she's the kind of lady that likes ta put a twist on things, so lately she's been trying out something new. Look, I've got pictures!"

Ford blanches.

It's after noon when Ford peers through the window of the local grocery store with an air of dawning apprehension. No one inside but a lanky teenager with a stunningly large cranium, manning the cash register with an almost physical air of general rebelliousness.

Ford swallows. "Stanley, are you sure it's fine to, ah -"

Relax, poindexter, his brother groans. I take the kids everywhere I go, and I've never run into any trouble.

Very carefully, Ford wonders if that was less about the actual regulations in place and much, much more about nobody wanting to tell a certain casually terrifying individual that he needed to leave his pets outside.

Besides, bringing the cats worked out fine in the diner, right?

"That doesn't count," he retorts immediately. "That woman was - she was obsessed with cats, Stanley, I didn't even know half the things she was talking about., and we talked for two hours."

Hey, I'm not seeing how that's a bad thing.

"Two. Hours."

Hell, I didn't even know the 'not having a collarbone' thing. I mean, it's not like the kids would have known about that. Though, Stan says thoughtfully, that definitely explains some of the crazy places they've gotten into over the ears.

"If you enjoyed it so much," Ford snips, "perhaps you should have spoken to her instead."

Nah. By the looks of you, Sixer, you haven't talked to another human being for a loooong time. Better a nice lady with a whole lot to say about cats than, uh. Mr. Potato Head inside there.

"Stanley."

What? I call it when I see it. Guy's head is disproportional.

Ford lets out a long sigh, and carefully does not admit that his brother was right about Susan. The social interaction had been overwhelming and occasionally bewildering, but it had been - a comforting sort of normal, in a way that nothing in his world had been for a very long time now.

Just chatting with a waitress in a diner about the best way to brush a cat. Nothing like his angry confrontation with Fiddleford, or the conversations he had with Bill that just thinking about made him reel with self-disgust. Nothing like everything that had happened since his brother had shown up at his door, just yesterday.

He walks into the store with his back straight, carefully ignoring the furry ears rubbing against his chin.

Then just as Ford steps over the doorway, there's a loud welcome chime.

He flinches, and jerks back with so much force that he knocks over the store display right next to him.

The cardboard figure hits the ground with a too loud thwap. The teenaged cashier glances up at him, a strangely intense look in his eyes.

"Apologies," Ford says stiffly, and awkwardly moves to stand it back up.

What the hell was that?

"I didn't expect the sound," he admits reluctantly.

"Who are you talking to?" The teenager asks, an odd look on his face. His voice is an entirely unexpected baritone, one that fits his craggy face but is strange with his frame.

"No one," Ford says, a bit too quickly. "Just - ah, just wanted to hear the sound of my own voice -"

Ford, shut up and just keep walking.

He does clumsily, and almost trips over his own feet. The cashier's stare feels heavy on his back all the way.

So. Grocery shopping. You want some of uh. Eggs, or something? Cheese? People buy cheese, right?

"...Stanley?"

You're on your own for this, pal. Look, I'm dead. I haven't had to eat for a long, long time. Thank God, because from what I remember hunger was uh.

A long, telling pause.

Not fun at all.

Ford looks up, and then even further up at the cans and boxes that line the shelves and seem almost to reach up to the ceiling. There's oats, then organic oats, then something about added sugar or reduced sodium and -

"I'm a bit rusty with grocery shopping myself," he confesses.

What, Stan says skeptically, you would rather eat out, now that you've got a college degree and big science money?

"Stanley, I told you, that's not how research funding works. I can't just spend that money on anything I want - "

Ford cuts himself off before he can go on the whole rant. He has a sneaking suspicion that telling his undead brother about the intricacies of research grants and scientific stipends was pointless.

"No," he says instead, voice clipped. "I just didn't eat."

His brother goes quiet at that. ...Well, all I know how to buy is food for the kids, and as horrible as I'm guessing your eating habits are I doubt you wanna get cat food -

Ford coughs. "Yes, not cat food would be good."

...You want stuff that doesn't go bad quickly, right? Canned stuff would be good for that, you can probably figure out how to fry bacon or something for the extra protein. Hell, you know what, eggs aren't a bad idea. And maybe some uh, green stuff. Vegetables. Spinach, kale, whatever.

"Stanley -"

Eh, what do responsible adults eat? Hell if I know.

"Stanley, that's - a great deal of food," he says carefully.

That's the point, Sixer.

"The issue is, ah. I can't afford all of that."

There's a long silence.

You can't - afford all of that, Stan says blankly. Like, you don't got enough money for it?

"Y-Yes, that's usually what it means to not be able to afford something -"

But you have money, his brother argues uncomprehendingly. You went to college, didn't ya? Isn't that what going to college is for?

Ford blinks, entirely thrown off-guard. "No, that's -" He starts off weakly, and then goes quiet with sudden realization.

He had been away from his family for years now, keeping the bare minimum of contact. So it had been easy to forget, surrounded by other college students and even more educated professors, that his household had always held a very fundamental misunderstanding of what higher education entailed.

Filbrick Pines had lived his entire life working for a living, and the idea of putting effort into studying something with no direct financial reward was entirely disjointed from his reality. Ford had smiled (grimaced, if he had to be entirely truthful) along with his father's loud boasts about how his boy was going to make the whole family rich, that his college admission meant they were all set for life.

It had been easier then to just stay quiet. Though, of course, that just meant the inevitable fallout was just that much more explosive.

But Stanley hadn't been there. He had left home long before Filbrick realized that Ford's research grants weren't free money, before the big argument that had ended with Ford admitting that no, his studies weren't going to make them rich, not any time soon, and no, that was never what college was for. Not for him, and he had gotten his degree for himself, not anyone else.

Which meant, this whole time, his brother had thought -

"Going to college didn't make me rich," Ford says at last. "It was... almost the opposite, really. Backupsmore gave me a full scholarship, but I had to take out loans and work on the side to eat and pay for textbooks. I got money to come out here for my research, and I suppose it's a large enough amount as a lump sum. But I need to justify all of my expenditures to the committee that approved me, and..."

He smiles wryly. "As it turns out, research scientists don't prioritize 'quality of life' too highly."

...Huh.

The words had come out almost terrifyingly easy, and it hits Ford suddenly that it's the most he's told his brother about his life in their years apart in... well. Very possibly ever. It's an odd feeling, one that comes with something like regret and slightly more like panic.

But mostly like relief.

Geez, Stan says suddenly, you could've just said so earlier. And here I thought you were stuck on an actual problem.

"An actual problem," Ford repeats blankly. "So you're saying this isn't an actual problem."

Sure. We can just steal.

A beat.

"You," Ford says, horrified, "want to do what?"

His voice cuts off suddenly, entirely out of his control.

You wanna say that any louder? Stan groans. Trust me, Mr. Potato Head doesn't want to care, but keep shouting about robbing this place and he's gonna have to.

"Don't call him tha - Stanley, I refuse to steal," Ford hisses under his breath, entirely scandalized.

Eh, suit yourself, his brother mutters casually, too casually. There's a loaf of bread down your shirt, by the way. And half a dozen oranges up your sleeve.

He freezes. "How did you - when did you -"

Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, pal.

"Stanley."

Stan hesitates, then sighs.

Look, I didn't have to eat, but I had to feed the kids somehow. And it wasn't like I was getting any kind of real job, with how I look. You figured out a way to make the system work for you, and guess what? So did I. Maybe it isn't as pretty. Or as legal.

He's quiet, for a moment.

...But it works. So shut it, alright?

Hearing that makes Ford's mouth goes dry. For the second that day, it hits him just how thankful he is that Stan can't hear his thoughts.

"Alright," he says hoarsely. "Do what you have to do."

"There's something wrong," Ford says quietly, about thirty minutes after they leave the store with something like a week's groceries stuffed in various pockets and folds.

Not about the stealing. The cashier - 'Ivan', as his name-tag introduced him as with an unfitting cheerfulness - hadn't looked twice at him when he paid for a single carton of eggs to keep up appearances. He hadn't seemed at all thrown off by his meager purchase, or even the two cats peeking out from the neck of his coat.

But there was a strange intensity in the way he had stared after him as he left, It reminded him of the looks the townspeople had given him on the streets that morning, how some of the other diner customers had turned to glance at his table as he talked to Susan and ate an uncomfortably filling breakfast.

"I'm being watched."

What, like right now? Stan says skeptically.

"No, this - this whole day. People have been staring at me. Following my movements."

Ford, you haven't showered in a week, you've got two full-grown cats hitching a ride in your coat, and as far as everyone's concerned you've been talkin' to yourself this whole time, Stan says flatly, sounding distinctly unimpressed.

"Still -"

Honestly, Sixer, I would be shocked if people weren't staring at you.

That... was true.

But...

For just a moment, Ford hesitates, ready to argue -

- and doesn't.

He lets out a sigh. He's tired, the bone-deep exhaustion and general stress of the past several months hitting him all at once.

Ford... doesn't want to think, can't think. Not right now.

"You're right," he says at last. "Let's go home."

They do, but it's Stan who pilots their body for most of it.

He's the one who gets the groceries put away and cooks an omelette that turns into scrambled eggs somewhere along the way, on a range that sputters and dies before the liquid gets all the way solid (Ford scarfs it down anyways - he's facing a host of much more immediate dangers than salmonella.) He piles firewood that Ford had completely forgot he still had into the fireplace, and struggles to light the flames with a box of soggy, year-old matches.

It ends with him curled up on the least destroyed armchair he has, moth-bitten blanket clumsily draped over himself, two warm bodies snuggled in and purring on his lap.

Somewhere distantly, he wonders if, just maybe, he had forgotten something.

With the fireplace roaring just a few feet away and the feeling of soft fur under his hands, Ford doesn't even notice when he falls asleep.

[phantomwingbeats-blog]

Desire, Being-For-Itself, and Being-For-Others; An Essay on Persona 5 and it’s Ending.

Persona 5 is an interesting beast. It is a sequel to one of the most beloved, and similarly milked franchises to come out of Japan. Combat both streamlined and expanded in equal measure, providing both more options for play and less confusion of effects. It opens doors for the future, provides windows into the past, and offers canonical insight into the nature of Persona’s world… But I’m not here to discuss any of that. Sure, I could talk about the cast’s strengths across the board, or the wonderful addition of Light and Dark skills actively having damage variants rather than Instant Death moves I ignore, or how Mementos, Palaces, all of it directly confirms my myriad theories about the Sea of Consciousness and the possibilities inherent… But I’m not here for that.

I am here to discuss the final villain, against our hero, the ideological dispute inherent to the game. How, where once SMT was defined by Order versus Law versus Neutrality, and Persona has been defined as Bad versus Good (or Golden) endings, Persona 5 mechanically follows the order of Bad versus Good endings, but in doing so showcases a dynamic rarely effected in video games; an argument against Bad Faith, in favor of Choice. Still, I’m getting ahead of myself. To grasp this argument, we will be diving into spoiler territory. So. Under the cut we go. Oh, and if you enjoy this little essay, I’d request sharing it so that we may get a conversation going on the ideology of this game we all enjoy.

So then, I’m hoping you’ve finished the game, because otherwise this will be spoiling everything to do with it’s ending. You’re sure you’re good for this? Okay then.

Before we dive too deep, let’s clear up what our main villain is. Yaldabaoth, the Demiurge is a cognizant anthropomorphization (or human form given to a concept) of order. Specifically, he is order at any cost without thought to the morality behind it. If we take Yaldabaoth’s word literally, that he exists as a creation of the mind, then we can take him as the eventual conclusion and extreme of the Japanese mentality that order is better than justice. And, yes, sadly that is accurate to Japan by and large. Non-Japanese views on the protagonist getting arrested for protecting a woman from rape may vary, but most cultures would argue that the ends (saving someone,) justify the means (assaulting the criminal,) whether those means were true or not (since the protagonist did not do such.)

Still, best to take all this with a grain of salt, given what we know. We know Persona has gods and goddesses, has real-life artifacts and science capable of generating supernatural scenarios, and so on. While Yaldabaoth may be a creation of the populace’s mind, it’s reasonable to think he’s just a real life deity like Nyx or Izanami who decided to act as a creation, so as to gain the direct support and belief of the mass populace. It’s also possible all deities in the franchise, past present and future, are creations of the human mind at large that exist in some layer of the Sea of Consciousness. It’s just that one or another may latch onto some popular thought and become powerful enough to affect reality, outside the Sea. We know that much to be true. After all, Mona being able to turn into a car is, to paraphrase the cat himself, “because people believe cats can turn into cars.” A My Neighbor Totoro reference explains how a self-aware cat can turn into a car. Considering that, it’s not hard to believe that religions created the gods that appear in Persona, rather than the gods creating the religions.

So then, what is Yaldabaoth standing for? As he puts it, the Demiurge is offering humanity “the freedom to surrender choice.” To give up the freedom of choice itself that all sentient beings enjoy at every moment of their lives, in an attempt to in turn be free from any repercussions. To never feel guilt for a mistake or accident, to never feel pride for an achievement or glory, to never feel envy or greed or gluttony or lust or wrath. To be free from sin itself, Yaldabaoth attempts to offer humanity freedom from choice. But, as you may have noticed, this offer is false. It’s not a choice, it’s not a freedom, and it’s certainly not a way to live. Why exactly, though?

Well, Yaldabaoth is removing the sense of self from human consciousness. As written in philosophical heavyweight Jean-Paul Sartre’s Being and Nothingness, existence for humans rests within three states of being. Being-In-Itself, the solid state of non-conscious being. Being-For-Itself, the fluid state inherent of dynamic choices of a conscious mind. And lastly, Being-For-Others, the awareness of the state as described by others than the individual itself.

To put it in blunt terms, the protagonist’s Being-In-Itself is a human, with a brain, working body parts, and living tissue. It’s the literal interpretation of a being that is always static, and can describe anything from people to trees to air.

The protagonist’s Being-For-Itself, then, is the choices that he makes, and the person as a result that he is both from past choices and future ones. This is what the player has active control over most of all, and everything you do does in fact constitute a choice. Whether it’s walking versus running versus fast-travelling to your destinations, choosing to spend time with someone versus working the job versus just going to sleep, or doing a Palace as soon as it’s available versus putting it off to the last minute to not doing it at all and getting a bad ending. Within the context of the game, the protagonist is making these choices, and as a result is built from them.

Finally, Being-For-Others is what we are defined as by others, so for the protagonist it’s most easily identified by the Phansite or the little bits we here from other people. He’s identified as a thug by his fellow classmates despite them having no evidence to support this outside of hearsay. He’s identified as a criminal by Akechi, Sae, and the Police as a result of him doing something outside the law, controlling another person’s heart. He’s identified as a hero by those he saves in the Metaverse, and near the end of the game is threatened with erasure of existence by Yaldabaoth erasing the public’s consciousness of their ever existing.

All of these come together to make up a person’s existence, though how each aspect is weighted against others is up to that person. What makes this interesting then is how Yaldabaoth’s actions try to remove both the Being-For-Itself, and the Being-For-Others, from all of humanity.

As Mona points out, humanity cannot exist without Desire. As it turns out, this was a veiled reference to the Being-For-Itself within humanity, something that many characters have challenged. While often acting in villainous ways, every character with a Palace had a strong Desire inherent to their being. Each one was associated with a different religious sin, but they were also still desires; things that made them have a sense of self, different from any other Shadow. Similarly, the Persona users have no Palace but have strong senses of themselves and goals to achieve. They had individual identities that pushed them to action, something that made their Being-For-Itself just as, if not more powerful than those with a Palace. In finding their place in reality, they found the power of spirit to go along with it. It’s the same logic behind their Persona Second Awakenings; at the end of each route, the Persona user finds a better sense of themselves. They make choices (whether it’s to not join the track team, or become a better model, or live as an artist both with a desire to make a living from it but without the greed from it’s extreme,) that shape who they are as people in their own minds. And as such, gain better Persona to boot… Going from the semi-real like Captain Kidd and Zorro to full mythological gods like Sun Wukong and Mercury. Meanwhile, people who don’t yet have Palaces inside the Metaverse take the form of regular Shadows. They have no connection to each other, but they have a distorted view of themselves born from a desire. They don’t have to be malicious, or have the distortion beaten out of them however, as Mishima proved. The point is, all humans have this desire, have this Being-For-Itself… Or should, anyway.

The flipside to this is the Being-For-Others. How others perceive you. And we get multiple uses of this throughout the game. Obvious examples include ranking up Confidants so as to gain power. The unique benefits of each are mostly unique to P5, but the idea of your sense of self growing by connecting and bonding with others is heavily explored across the series. However, P5 also briefly touches on the opposite side of this; on not making connections, and being forgotten or ignored by the public. Akechi is a Wild Card user, whose sense of Being-For-Itself is so strong that it birthed one of the most absurdly powerful Initial Persona in the series to date in Loki. In fact, if we take the idea that he had no connections aside from the Protagonist to it’s conclusion, we can guess that he outright created a second Persona purely from his own force of self in Robin Hood. That Loki was born from the sense of self he found in his early life, and Robin Hood is the sense of self he portrays to the public. But even with such a strong sense of self, he still loses to the Protagonist and his friends, purely because their bonds create a larger strength overall. This isn’t just numbers, however, it’s that the Protagonist’s sense of self is enhanced by the perception of those around him of him… Including Akechi himself. Falling back on a line I love from Persona 3, “Two in harmony surpass One in perfection.” Indeed, it’s the erasure of that perception by the public that is Yaldabaoth’s final plan to erase the Phantom Thieves from existence; in merging Mementos with Reality, Yaldabaoth uses his influence to make the public cease to believe the Thieves exist, thereby erasing them from reality itself… Given that thanks to Mementos entering reality, losing the sense of Being-For-Others means not existing in public minds… And thus in reality.

And thus we get to the crux of Yaldabaoth’s plan. In removing the sense of Being-For-Itself that all humans have by making such desires taboo, the eldritch god forces humanity to slide into a state of stasis. In giving up their freedom of choice, the public loses what makes it unique in any way. They become the husks we see in Mementos Depths, locked away in cages in perpetuity. They believe there is nothing more to life because of what they’ve been told. And as such, merely are wasting away into nothing. Quicker than you’d think, because without that sense of self, suddenly they also begin to vanish thanks to exactly what happened with the Phantom Thieves. They vanish from reality because they no longer have personal desire, nor are they acknowledged by those around them. We don’t know how many vanish before the Phantom Thieves start to break the public’s apathy, but we can assume many. Hell, this may explain why Akechi goes completely unmentioned in the finale of the game; he too has been erased from public consciousness, and thus ceases to exist in our world. Whether his sense of self would be enough to ignore this is up for debate.

For those of you who may have sat there reading all that, or watching the people in Mementos Depths worrying, “Am I like them?” Never fear. You are making choices. You’re appreciating the art of the game, or reading the story, or making connections that matter in your life, or simply enjoying yourself. As a result, you playing this game still have Being-For-Itself. In talking to others about this game, you are enhancing your Being-For-Others. The only way you would be in the same state as those poor souls in the game was if you effectively curled up into a ball, and tried to think about nothing, not just for a set period of time, but for as long as you could before you died. In short, as long as you have something you desire, you won’t fall into that pitfall.

That is where the Protagonist shines in the finale. By being the culmination of all these concepts. His sense of self, fueled by both his Being-For-Itself, (Arsene,) and his Being-For-Others, (Confidants, party members, and eventually 100% of the population) creates Satanael, the largest and potentially most powerful Persona in the franchise to date. Granted, Satanael is gone now, given that it’s form was given in part by the populace… Which now cleanly is split in two as to whether to believe in the Thieves or not. Regardless, he still stands as the counterpoint to Yaldabaoth’s offer. Where Yaldabaoth offered humanity meaningless existence without desire, (and in turn, no existence at all,) Satanael offers humanity life lived through desire, and yes, sin. The protagonist reminds humanity of the freedom of choice it truly has, and that taking no choice, no responsibility for your actions, is no choice at all. It is the cessation of existence.

And that’s the point of P5’s ending; that we are built of both the choices we make and how others see us, and it is our responsibility to live for what we desire. So go forth. Enjoy a New Game Plus, go write, draw, roleplay, discuss, theorize. Live for your desires.

[nopears-blog1]

Shiro, Keith and prompt #14

this is so many things it wasn’t meant to be: sheith, and domestic!space!canon!fic, and apparently i’m obsessed with the word ‘pretty’ who knew??? thank you for the prompts, dee! hopefully this isn’t beyond the bounds of things you like :)

w: body image issues (shiro), implied identity issues (keith), heavily implied (but not explicit) sex, a wild star trek reference

14.“You’resupposed to talk me out of this.”

Even if Shiro had stopped towonder if hair dye were a thing in space – which: it must be, right? They weredying hair back in the dark ages with berries and things, Shiro’s pretty sure,so surely in space they’ve figured out hair dye. Even if hehad, which he hadn’t, he wouldn’t normally have picked it up absentmindedly andstared down at the packaging he can’t read like it holds the secrets to takingdown the Empire in the alien’s coy smile as they show off their newly brightgreen hair. If hair is what it is – it’s sort of feathery. Close enough, Shirofigures.

It’s just it’s been a weirdday. Allura kicked them all out of the Castle first thing this morning with thewords, “get out now before I murder you all.” Which isn’t asharsh as it sounds. Pidge and Hunk nearly blew up the entire shuttle bayyesterday, trying to retrofit something into something – what with the avertedexplosion, Shiro hasn’t gotten around to prying an intelligible explanation outof them. Lance has been sulking around the Castle all week, sighing anddisappearing off on his own a lot regardless of what they’re trying to do, butstill always seems to be around to wind Keith up. And Keith’s been trying, hehas, but he’s been annoying everyone, too, pushing everyone to train pastexhaustion and giving even Shiro half a minute of a lecture on being preparedfor what’s coming before he remembered who he was talking to and flushed as redas his Lion.

Shiro had tried to stay inthe Castle with Allura, had said, “Princess, please, what if the Galra attack?”

She’d hooked a foot behindhis ankles and he was flat on his back looking at the ceiling before he knewwhat hit him.

“I will be just fine on myown, Shiro,” she’d told him. She offered him a hand up and shoved him into theshuttle with the others before charting them a course for the Space Mall.

So now here Shiro is, staringdown at something he’s pretty sure is hair dye from the context, the row ofsimilar bottles lined up on a shelf in what’s something like a pharmacy, allwith pictures of aliens with nearly-hair in different colours. He’s rememberingthe girl in his class in his first year at the Garrison with a bright purpleshock of hair. He remembers he’d thought it looked cool before Iverson made herdye it back to blonde; he’d thought so in a slightly envious way he sometimesgot when he looked at non-regulation things back then. In the way he gets nowsometimes when he looks at pretty things, like people used to tell him he wasbefore all the scars and the limb-loss and the trauma.

 And before the white hair.That doesn’t help.

He hears someone coming justa tiny bit too late, shoving the dye back on the shelf and turning towards themwith affected nonchalance pasted on his face.

Keith meets his eyes withmuted curiosity, glancing at the hair dye for a moment and pausing, taking amoment to consider it. When he looks back at Shiro his eyes go first to hishair and Shiro feels his cheeks warm.

“What’s up?” he asks, takinga step closer to Keith and taking advantage of how that always distracts Keithjust a little. Keith’s lashes flutter minutely, he firms his shoulders, andShiro’s pretty sure he’s succeeded in distracting him. If part of him thinksback to Keith’s bitten off lecture – the one on taking advantage of any openingyou’re given and fuck morality – with amusement, he’s never claimed to be abovea little friendly vindictiveness.

“Nothing,” Keith says,because like Shiro his first thought is always that something’s gone wrong andhe knows to get reassurance that it hasn’t (yet) out of the way first. Shirohad known from the measure of Keith’s footsteps, but appreciates it anyway. “Hunkknows a guy and said he’ll get us free lunch. Want to join us?”

Shiro smiles easily, puts ahand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezes as he turns him back towards the door outof the pharmacy as he nods, saying, “sure, you won’t catch me turning down freefood.”

Keith grins at him, leaninginto him just a little, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Shiro feels hispulse jump a little, feels his own smile soften, and silently acknowledges thetwo-way street that is their weakness for each other. 

~

Later, back on the Castle,Shiro gives Keith’s hip a parting kiss as he makes his way back up Keith’sheaving chest. He kisses Keith’s throat and the corner of his lips, lifting hisweight off him to where he can grin down at him, pushing Keith’s hair out ofhis eyes.

Keith’s lips are red andswollen as he smiles back, lazy, the way he only really gets in their quietestmoments alone or when he’s just had really good sex. He pulls Shiro down withhis fingers tangling in the white tuft of Shiro’s hair for a wet, open-mouthedkiss that Shiro laughs into, wrinkling his nose, saying, “you hate the taste-”and getting cut off by Keith’s insistent tongue.

Shiro lets him have his kissthrough several long, slow moments that are way too easy to sink into. Finally,though, he pushes himself up, lips still close enough to Keith’s to brushagainst each other as he says, “I’m going to go brush my teeth. 

Keith mock-frowns indisapproval, watching Shiro get up, stretch, and walk into the bathroom. Hecalls, “brush mine for me too,” and laughs when Shiro reaches back through thedoor to flick him off.

Shiro notices the bottles ashe turns back to the sink. There are three of them, one each in purple, pinkand blue. He definitely didn’t buy them, and there was only one person who sawhim looking.

Keith loops an arm aroundShiro’s waist, holding onto his hip with one hand as he reaches past him fortheir working replacement for toothbrushes and toothpaste with the other. Shirolays a hand over Keith’s on his hip, tangling their fingers together, and asks,“why did you get them?”

Keith takes his time inanswering, waiting until they’re both done brushing to hug Shiro with both hisarms, chest pressed to Shiro’s back and presumably standing on his toes so hecan dig his chin into Shiro’s shoulder as he watches him in the mirror withserious eyes.

“I got them for you,” Keithsays. “For if you wanted to try them.”

It’s hard not to look awayfrom Keith, to not look at what Keith’s watching so intently, to try to figureout what Keith sees with his serious eyes when he does.

“Do you not like the white?”Shiro makes himself ask, and is grateful that Keith’s reaction is muted; hiseyes flash with confusion and concern for a split second and he digs his chinin a little harder.

“Don’t make it about me,”Keith tells him. Shiro ducks his head, half a nod and half ducking away fromKeith’s eyes.

“Sorry,” he says. Pauses,then admits: “it’s easier.”

The thumb on Shiro’s hip pressesin, starts stroking up and down in a tiny, comforting movement as Keith says,“I know,” and kindly leaves off the idiot implied by histone. He doesn’t say, I’m part-Galra and you don’t care, either, but that’s implied, too.

“You could have got black,”Shiro says, and continues watching Keith’s hands on his skin as Keith replies,“that’s not what you were looking at,” and as Keith’s fingers meet and tracedown one of Shiro’s biggest and ugliest scars like it’s the most precious partof him. Sometimes Keith gets like this: intense and gentle. It drives Shiro tothe brink every time.

Keith fills the silence withsimple reassurance: he’s had Coran look over the ingredients and he’s prettysure there’s nothing in them, and Lance had suggested doing a patch test justto be sure before using it if he decides to. Shiro spends half a second thinkingabout getting annoyed that Keith got the others involved before he remembersthey’re seven people on a single ship and no one has any secrets.

“I can’t have pink hair,”Shiro says, ignoring the budding twist of nervous excitement he feels at theidea even as it makes him smile. “This is dumb, Keith, I’m having amid-twenties crisis and you’re encouraging me.”

A kiss to the sensitive spotunder Shiro’s ear has him squirming, squeezing Keith’s hand in reprimand fortrying to distract him. Keith smiles against Shiro’s skin and says, “I thinkyou’d look pretty with pink hair.” He kisses him again in the same spot andit’s just a coincidence that Shiro forgets to breathe for a moment.

“You’re my second-in-command,Keith; you’re my Spock. You’re meant to be the voice of reason.” Shiro findshimself tilting his head to the side so Keith can get at the skin he’s sointent on kissing. It’s easier than normal to look at himself in the mirror, tosee the white shock of hair he doesn’t remember happening and the scars hedoesn’t remember getting alongside the ones he does and the arm. It’s easier tobear with Keith’s arms wrapped around him and his distracting mouth holding himtogether and here.

“Allura is your Spock,” Keithtells him. Shiro waves him off; they’ve had this argument before.“I’m your Bones.”

“You’re supposed to talk meout of this,” Shiro says, meeting Keith’s eyes in the mirror as presses hislast open-mouthed kiss to Shiro’s neck before turning Shiro around with thehands on his hips.

“You hate this,” Keith tellshim, running his fingers through Shiro’s white tuft. He presses a firm, chastekiss to Shiro’s lips, then says against them, “don’t ask me to argue againstthings that might make you happy.”

Shiro shakes his head, halfautomatically just at Keith’s tone. He kisses Keith, says, “okay,” kisses himagain, and adds, “sorry,” and “I won’t,” and “let’s stop talking about my miledeep issues and go back to bed now,” between kisses.

Keith lets himself be pulledthat way, lets himself be bundled into bed where their limbs fall tangled andShiro gentles his touch against Keith’s skin as he nuzzles and nips at thesensitive hollow of Keith’s throat; quid pro quo, after all.

Their last serious moment ofthe night comes when Keith takes Shiro’s hand, pressing the metal palm to hislips, and says, “I like you so much, you know, and that includes all yourissues.”

“That’s so not fair,” Shirotells him after taking several moments to recover from how that’d made hiswhole body tingle. “You’re my favourite person in the universe and I stillcan’t think of anything I can say that’d beat that.”

Keith rolls his eyes, says,“we are not competing,” which is a lie, and, as if to prove it, “every time yousay something that dumb I’m going to tell you how pretty you are until youbelieve it,” and grins at Shiro’s furious blush.

“You’re evil,” Shiro tellshim. “I’ll find your weakness one day, too.”

Keith laughs. Says, “sure,babe, and on that day I’ll regret this.”

“No you won’t,” Shiro says.

“No, I won’t.”

~

Some days later, when Shiroleaves his room he passes Lance in the hall and asks if he’s okay because he’sflushed and dropped his towel, then sees Hunk and is concerned when he has torepeat what he said three times before Hunk answers. Coran acts normally andPidge is too busy with some tech thing to do more than grunt when he says goodmorning. Allura stares at him, though, until Shiro’s left trying not to squirmin his seat and asking, “are you okay, Princess?” She startles, eyes widening,and hurries to say, “yes, of course. Good morning, Shiro,” in her most regalvoice. 

Keith, when he arrives, sitsnext to Shiro close enough that their thighs are pressed together. He takes alook around the table, turns to Shiro, threads his hands through Shiro’s newlycoloured hair and pulls him in for a heated, proprietary kiss.

“Pretty,” he breathes againstShiro’s lips when they part. “Told you.”

His smile against Shiro’slips, as Shiro, predictably, flushes and as Keith goes back in for a morebreakfast-appropriate peck, is smugly happy.

[mrclaudeknowsbest]

The Kids are Our Future

The Children are Our Future... so what does “The Baarn ... a ...Baby” issue say to them

Roll out the song cue…"The kids are our future, teach them well, and show them the way. Conflate with “Baby, baby it's a wild world, it's hard to get by without a smile”.

In my humble opinion (”IMHO”) the overall direction of society has followed a consistent historical trajectory of self-interest and hypocrisy. Improvement may not be demonstrable while recognizing improvements in intellect, knowledge base, or technology. Different folk will cherry-pick whatever period of mankind resonates with them, and their particular narrative. That can change easily to whatever is expedient at any time, situation, or audience.

So, what are the most important issues IMHO that today’s adults are leaving our next generations:

1. Climate Change, and its impact on economies, prosperity, population movements and unequal impacts on countries or continents.

2. Inequality in Society and growing disparities are certain to challenge the Western Democratic Model. The constant challenges from alternatives cannot be naively discounted, as appears the norm.

3. Expanding Debt, both public and private, and all its trailing issues. Yes, too many to detail at the moment (”ATM”).

4. Intangible expenses, such as pollution, climate change, and all changes in technology, social cohesion or perceptions of a good life. How they are measured, and how they are communicated to an economically unsophisticated populace. The merits of GNI over GDP is a meaningful starting point.

5. Whatever issues an observant dog, of sufficient mental bandwidth, can sniff out?

Now to “The Baarn…a…Baby issue” (”BaB”) as an aphorism, metaphor and parable (”AMP”) to today’s media beat up as a distraction, and competitor for limited public attention spans, when compared to my list of critical issues.  

For future reference, any AMP requires the background lyrics, soundtrack and visuals by AC/DC to their song ‘TNT’).

IMHO ABC program “Insiders” is the best current affairs offering ATM. The 18/02/18 episode devoted much time to BaB, so why?

Gerard H said words to the effect of - a furious statement by the PM initiated an equally emotional response by Barnaby Joyce (”B”). To the less involved, other side of the brain, thinkers such as GH “fury is best handled privately”. Wow, what does that mean to a dog? My perception is whatever you want it to mean. Any wide statement can be interpreted by anyone for whatever narrative they seek to perpetuate. So, surprise, politicians and media commentators from the left and right start bickering. Any subset of otherwise “emotionally intelligent” folk share many values of narcissism, cognitive dissonance, willful blindness, hypocrisy, hubris, self-interest for the greater good of the tribe ("my filters").  IMHO, Pollies are just pecking at the seeds as a usual course of conduct. I suggest a good lick to discern the pheromones and relevant neurotransmitters being released.  

The PM has a strong view on marriage. That may be limited due to his success at meeting his true soul mate. I often see Lucy and Malcolm walking, hand in hand, completely at ease with each other's company and on display for all to see. Half or more of the population should be in envy. The media have many examples of opposing examples such as Donald Trump and other partners. I refer to this President as Agent Orange (”AO”). Has he followed precedent and introduced some dog sense of values into The White House?    

I submit that the PM has limited experience of family breakdown, or Family Court of Australia ("FCA") matters. I describe this mental vacuum as no personal skin in the game. Accordingly, the PM should stay out of issues, such as BaB, that he is largely ignorant of. An empathetic dog can construe B’s statement and use of the emotive word “inept” in that context. Maybe it is partially true in the entire context of FCA issues that B is currently submerged by. This is not suitable material for political glibness, and I repeat a matter that the PM has no skin in the game. Strangely I have heaps of it. When the subject of divorce is raised in discussion with acquaintances, and lesser relationships, I mention my master's circumstances in this quagmire having a wife who is a more competent lawyer than him. It is unsurprising that the conversation mostly stopped, until a circuit breaker was introduced. That is an example of excessive skin in the game. Perhaps better and further particulars may be relevant in another blog.

The AMP of “oil and water” was raised to elucidate the entire context of many contradictions encompassing personal matters, or family issues, and politics. Agreement with the outstanding broad-brush AMP, yet where is the public interest test for any Government ("G") funded person or position? The timing of the introduction of “The New Code” comes into question and may be the Emperor’s New Clothes. It cannot apply to B, either retrospectively or due to the fact that the PM has limited ability to direct leadership decisions for its Nationals coalition partner. However, the timing was a barb that B, as a compromised individual experiencing family trauma, could not ignore. The lack of foresee-ability shown by the PM to this certainty is breathtaking and disappointing to my master. Furthermore, this distraction from real policy making for the public good was fodder for an opposition attempting to gain traction amid good economic and employment news.  

I submit that the decision for B to take a week off to consider his options was appropriate and necessary in the entire political and FCA context. His priority ATM should be to manage as best as possible the vexed issue of his children’s welfare and the future of his new union, including a yet to be born baby. FCA papers, and counselors, discuss the theory that divorce proceeding initiate various lengths of temporary psychoses in about 80% of applicants. Therefore, I submit that B has a good chance of being affected, especially when conflated with the extreme pressures of politics.

The optics of whether B should have accepted free rent from a mate is more political chaff. Need and greed, overlaid by timing and other distractions, are relevant issues for subjective navel gazing. The journalists with their usual premised questioning techniques have managed to obtain a narrative of different ‘facts’ from B and the friendly landlord. Wow, what a revelation? Seek, often and repeatedly enough, and you will find ‘gold’. Any dog knows that you have to sniff out the entire turf, just to cover the field of possibilities.

That luminary social commentator, Karl Stephanovic ("Karl"), raised doubts about the PM’s possible different treatment of B compared to previous Ministers. I suspect he may be a cat lover. Karl alleged that the PM knew of all manner of mischief, while taking advantage of all the investigative instruments of State. This was likely to have been, months before us mere mortals were informed by the ever-vigilant media. The argument raised by one hypocritical politician, or media commentator, against other equally morally compromised members is that you must be consistent. I submit that Karl has recently been in a similar situation to B, and therefore in my doggy notion of fairness has standing to comment. The issue is likely to have tickled his nerve on the hypocrisy exhibited by the PM and many other journalists and Pollies.  

In summary, I suggest that asking a Pollie to be consistent is akin to asking a flossy such as Kim K to justify engaging in a sexual act on social media for added exposure. OK, perhaps a mental stretch, yet still an intellectual departure for a nuanced PM. Are the Nationals actually unable to remove a leader to the standards expected of effective politicians? The optics of going into a by-election in a Conservative jurisdiction with a leader who has left his family and is now living rent free with his pregnant former staffer requires some review by the local voters. It is not a loyalty to the National Party issue, or the hidden elephant of the G’s tenuously hold on power, yet a question of political judgement. These may be watershed moments when a 24/7 social media enabled electorate require greater transparency from the PM for appropriate information to determine his ability to perform the job.

Legislating personal liaisons of any nature between consenting adults, including the specter of a moral police on a Monotheist Iranian or Saudi model, should appropriately raise the hackles of most Western Libertarians. The opportunities for abuse, conflicts of interest, and by whom are too obvious to require review. However, the matter of moving a well-paid position that already existed in the Nations party office to that of senior ministers is well within the public interest test. Note, not a created position as touted by unsympathetic media outlets, yet the variation to salaries is also relevant. Exposing hypocrisy may be embarrassing to both the accuser and accused. The legal analogy in Equity is that if you seek relief, then you must approach with clean hands.  

Subjective review, and Key Performance Indicators (”KPI”), for which job are merely far too salacious matters for a dog. Geoff asked me if a previous standard existed regarding the issue of moving jobs to shield B or others from political harm? My assessment was a conceded pass to a vague and subjective concept, requiring a tasty bone to mull over the marrow. The issue of a possible breach of existing Ministerial Conduct wrt informing the PM or others is worthy of greater scrutiny. The fact that B was not an active Minister at the time of job movements, moving into free accommodation or when relevant persons should be fully informed has some traction. No journalist to my knowledge has raised the issue of relevant timing. Requirements for a possible breach of conduct by B resurfaced immediately after a position of trust was engaged, and more so, if re-engaged. The reasonable person test kicks in, with a greater expectation due to the previous experience. It is easier to sniff a butt when the tail is raised.  

The new lady journalist to the Insiders panel, Annika S raised further hypocrisy when cherry-picking B’s words on the campaign trails. Specifically, B advising folk to move to the country to obtain cheaper rent was a zinger of Bill Short- of- Integrity optics. Perhaps a well-paid Government Minister could afford to pay a friend a sensible rent, even if he offers otherwise. Conflicting recollections of negotiations, invitations to treat, leading to oral contractual relations and past conversations are emerging. I confess to being a cynical person in relation to the conduct of all business-folk, especially regarding tax minimization. Therefore, should some cunning person or the ATO sniff out if the ‘landlord’ providing free rent to B was negatively gearing this particular complex, or his wider property portfolio, within his tax affairs?

The observation recalling the 2016 election tussle with Tony Windsor was a true political gem or nauseating to a right-minded person or their dog. The “running off with Julia barb” was regurgitated. The salacious suggestion that Tony was engaging in an illicit extra marital affair with a former PM was outside The Pale. Yes, it offended most of my value set and alerted all my sensory filters. Maybe, B's canine pals can provide some relevant insights?

The vexed issue of the scarce resource of water and conflating such with the performance of the (Federal) Murray Darling Water Authority and other State entities was salient and relevant political inquiry. IMHO, this is the really meaty issue that B should be answering in regard to a waste of taxpayers' funds. Geoff assures me that the quantum of money and political machinations far exceed the tantalizing and salacious content of BaB. When he asked me if we could chase this simmering saga into another blog, I merely opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue to taste the air, and wagged my tail in approval.

Mike Bower’s photo zooming in on B, with other Pollies out of focus was potentiated by a musical option. The cartoon of pigs covered in crap was identified by Mark Knight as worthy - of a culinary award IMHO.