#is that right? so i think i understand why the comparison exists on a surface level? i need to watch the film before i can talk about it

[corviiids]

your characterization of characters is so good, especially your half-joking death note aus/hypotheicals... i feel as if youre a scientist who's spent years observing lawlight in a confined enclosure and is now sharing your accumulated expertise with the wider public. that being said do you think if light watched american psycho he would be self aware enough to notice the similarities

this is such an extremely nice thing to say to someone who only watched death note in literally february of this year. im humbled and honoured by this accolade. also mildly concerned about exactly how quickly light yagami became a part of my soul and personality

i actually have not read or watched american psycho but im willing to do so to complete this analysis if i must, although i do not really like horror films. unsubstantiated yapping hidden below anyway

my instinct (uninformed) is a soft no? light is remarkably self aware in some ways and absolutely, completely, 1000% untrustworthy about matters of his own self in other ways. my limited understand of american psycho is that mr patrick bateman is not driven to commit murder by a desire to enact social reform? please correct me if im wrong. i think on that front alone light would see someone committing atrocities, especially without being driven by grand ideals, and immediately distance himself from the character regardless of whether or not similarities exist beyond that

actually you know what im adding a condition. post-kira light would say no he's nothing like patrick bateman. pre-kira/yotsuba light would say the same thing but secretly doubt and fear

however this is a heavily caveated take because i need to watch the film and educate myself first

[vanguarddawn]

There's something I've been thinking about tonight that I really don't quite know how to explain, but I'm going to try it anyways.

It all regards a question I've received several times over the years: Why is Walhart one of my favorite Awakening characters, when Edelgard is my least favorite Fire Emblem character? Aren't their goals essentially the same?

This is a question I mostly receive from Edelgard fans who usually don't want to listen to what I actually have to say about either character, and just want to try and put the legitimacy of my biases under scrutiny, usually with accusations of misogyny being thrown in for good measure. And I've never really had an answer for them, not because I didn't want to get involved in that discussion, but because I had always judged Walhart and Edelgard based on gut feeling rather than deeper analysis.

Honestly, the more I look into them both in comparison to one another, the more vast that rift becomes. I'm not necessarily starting to like Walhart even more, but I'm definitely learning to like Edelgard even less, something I'd thought was impossible. I do not have the time or patience to write out a full Edelgard analysis, and honestly I don't want to do that either. So I'll talk about what connects them and what differentiates them.

Walhart and Edelgard are, on the surface, somewhat similar characters. They are both the leader of their nation, and seek to unify the rest of the continent through force, and ultimately intend to forge a world where man can only rely on their own strength rather than that of the gods. Both are armored axe wielders primarily associated with the color red, and both bear inhuman levels of physical strength. Both can potentially end up being defeated by the kindhearted king of the nation they invaded who seeks to strengthen the existing world through structural reform rather than wiping the slate clean, and cherish the power of bonds over the strength of the individual.

So why do I love Walhart but hate Edelgard again? Simple.

Walhart is absolutely fucking delusional. Dude is straight up off his rocker, and the game is actually willing to acknowledge this rather than trying to defend it. He truly believes in his whole "unity through conquest" bullshit, and is only willing to let go of it when he's defeated by Chrom. And you know what he does, instead of Edelgard's "if only i had your strength we could have made the world a better place together" stuff?

Walhart concedes. He basically just tells Chrom and Robin "alright, you guys won, you clearly know what's best for the world. I was wrong, might does not make right, and from now on I'm gonna do things your way." Of course he says it in his own distinctly Walhart way, but the message is still the same. While he doesn't come to accept the real message that Chrom and Robin were trying to send, one of bonds and togetherness, he does realize that his way of going about securing and maintaining peace was wrong. I understand that Edelgard also concedes somewhat in VW/SS, but in AM she tries to murder her salvation after being given one last chance to redeem herself, and in CF she successfully conquers Fódlan so there's no redemption to be done.

It also helps that the god Walhart was trying to stop to begin with was objectively evil and not just a traumatized archbishop. Yes, Rhea does some incredibly fucked up things, but comparing her to Grima, who literally destroys the entire world just for funsies, can't really be done in good faith. Rhea is more compelling as an antagonist because she actually has nuance - nuance that Grima mostly lacks.

I also want to address some localization weirdness regarding both characters. In Awakening's English localization Walhart's goal of crushing the Grimleal is only made clear after the player has already defeated him and is headed to stop the ongoing resurrection of Grima. The English localization of Three Houses, on the other hand, may as well be Edelgard apologist fanfiction with how much it rewrites her character to make her look completely justified in starting her war, including actively writing mentions of civilian conscription and execution, as well as foreign military operations out of the English script, and adding a line to her endings stating that she gives up power once her dream of a Crest-less Fódlan has been realized. She is a completely different character between scripts.

I also like how Walhart is written entirely seriously about even the most mundane of things in his barracks and DLC conversations. If you thought he was crazy about military, wait until you hear his opinion on vegetarianism (he is one and he intends to make it your problem).

Basically, I like Walhart because he isn't meant to be endearing. Awakening makes no effort to redeem him or justify his actions, because they are ultimately unjustifiable. Edelgard did essentially the same thing he did and required a whole game rewrite to justify allowing the player to side with her at all.

[sneakyboymerlin]

I have one silly goofy rule: if you vague me, I won’t always be as transparent in return… especially when you call me a bitch. I also enjoy literary and media analysis as a hobby (there’s a reason it’s my best subject lol), so I don’t exactly mind a chance to talk on it.

Gwen’s boobs visible below the cut.

Breaking: Tumblr user “Arthur The People’s Princess,” who calls Arthur a “tsundere,”’calls ME a bitch and accuses ppl who think Merlin is not a villain of “babygirlifying” him 😭😭😭 very “do as I say, not as I do.” liiiike at LEAST say it on anon 💀💀💀

But this is even funnier because… the show’s main tactic to make Arthur appear superior was by only ever contrasting him to people far worse than he is (e.g. Uther or the villagers in 5x03). But they had a second tactic, where they would “make a character ooc so their fave would seem better.” For example, the 4x03 deleted scene btwn him and Gwen (thank god they deleted it), the format and characterization in 5x01-5x03, etc. It is quite clear that they set up conversations to tell-don’t-show how grand Arthur is, even though he is surrounded by people who have the exact same standards and more. He is coddled by the narrative as a form of overcompensation for his flaws and dormant character progression. This is also influenced by his status as a rich nobleman (prince, then king) wherein a servant like Gwen believing that commoners are just as worthy as nobles means nothing, yet a king believing in this somehow makes him uniquely worthy. Credit and reward is unevenly distributed.

This “babygirlifying” of Arthur (calling him a tsundere and princess) is a pretty obvious attempt to dismiss his serious faults (the bigotry that leads him to act tyrannical towards magical peoples, continuing his father’s genocidal legacy). Because white cishet women are typically viewed as weak and harmless, comparing or associating a character with “womanly” traits/tropes can be used to give the impression of harmlessness or innocence. This is, of course, misogynistic, among other uses.

The slight against Gwaine is also very interesting, because it tends to be the type of merthur shipper that the op is, not the people who pay attention to Gwaine, who reduce him down to “clown manwhore.” But more on that later.

The show is centered on Arthur’s need to progress from a stuck-up bigot into the king who will fulfill the prophecies, bringing peace back to the five kingdoms and returning magic to the land… so why is it so difficult to understand why people might pay attention to Arthur fulfillment of (or lack thereof) the story’s structural promise? Other people possessing flaws does not negate Arthur’s flaws, which had a wide impact due to his excess of power, wealth, and reputation.

Gwaine being tentative towards magic, Morgana indulging in tyranny, and Merlin’s questionable navigation of prophecy do not in any way rescind Arthur’s central flaws. He is the one who continued to ban magic, despite Gaius making Dragoon’s innocence clear in 4x07, despite accepting the Dolma’s aid in 5x09, despite the unicorn incident in 1x11, right after a sorcerer saved his life in 1x10. And still, after a sorcerer saved his life in 1x04. After he recognized how many Druids had been slaughtered for their association with magic. These are events he knew about but chose to ignore to stay in his comfort zone (idolizing Uther and justifying his own privileges).

Also, the fact that op can only approach this topic through a merthur lens (the comments about Arthur and Gwaine both imply merthur) is more telling than any analysis I could write. Merlin and Gwaine do not exist only in relation to Arthur. We’re not the ones reducing him down to “clown manwhore,” because unlike op, we don’t see his character or connections as trivial by comparison. I know I for one have written multiple analyses on Gwaine’s characterization, traumas, and beliefs — flaws and all — because I believe there is more to him than many surface-level readings ascribe. Try looking in a mirror next time you say it.

Toodles 🛳️

[slowdesire]

omg actually keen to hear ur yellowface thoughts once uve synthesised them... im a chronic rf kuang hater but i also do read her books every time so i would love to know what u thoughtttt

hello omg thank you for asking about this, i would love to know your thoughts too actually!

so it's been a day, i was able to sleep on it... this won't be the most serious review ever but i'll freely share both what i've been mulling over and my thoughts as i type. i think the book is good enough for what i personally thought it would be, which is a silly off-kilter story with a very compelling premise. the bare minimum i initially knew, which is that some white girl stole her dead asian-american friend's work, was enough to intrigue me. what i didn't understand was the hype around how "insane" it is on tiktok (which i will readily admit is where i found out about the book's existence) and i had my hesitations to hold it to that standard. turns out i was right to be hesitant. there was room for so much more. like i understand the pov and insights are deliberately limited and unreliable bc of the main character herself, but here's one example: when juniper made a remark on athena not knowing what it's like to be poor, i expected those thoughts to play a larger role in the story or go a bit deeper, but they were left as few among the many bits and pieces of surface level commentary and somewhat valid criticism against athena and it kind of got lost in the mix. this is such a shame especially because it's clear juniper is big on her own family's dynamics and financial situation, so it could've been such a great comparison point (?) for her to really dig into when it came to her resentment against athena.

i feel like that was the biggest missed opportunity in my eyes because when i read the author bio at the end of the book, i was surprised to find that rf kuang herself is from yale. i didn't know who she was before reading the book, this is my introduction to her and i went in completely blind. knowing a bit of her background now honestly leaves a sour taste in my mouth because this time the story feels too self-referential the way some taylor swift songs can be (and i enjoy tswift btw lol). but i don't know for sure since i still haven't looked into her that much. this is why i would LOVE to know why you're a hater bc i feel we'd have similar reasons

also the buildup to the ending and the ending itself were both so underwhelming that it dampened some of the fun i had in earlier parts of the story. like i was enjoying this white woman going kind of crazy but kuang's stab at the uncanny fell so flat i literally could not stop just thinking about perfect blue 1997 and how i did not pick up the same suspense here. not that they have to be the same at all, i just live like this. also in line with this so much of the book feels chronically online. at first i appreciated how online spaces were so heavily embedded in the story but by the halfway point i was like, um.... i thought this was a satire on the publishing industry, not glimpses of publishing interspersed between losing ur mind over twitter and goodreads LOL.

for now this is all i have to say. fun book! i can tell rf kuang is skilled in her own right. i enjoyed the pacing and the writing style, it was such an easy read and there's nothing wrong with that. nothing i want to take too seriously or sink my teeth too deeply into. people on booktok praise yellowface way too highly that's 10000% for sure

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Onimai (I Am Now Your Sister!)

I’ve been trying to put into words why Mushoku Tensei is so infuriating to me for a while. You think it’d be easy, right? All I have to say (and indeed, what I have said in the past) is “this show wastes so much gorgeous animation and obvious talent on a pedophile protagonist who’s never punished for his actions” and everyone with a functioning brain would understand why they need to avoid this show like it’s the scarlet rot in Elden Ring. And yet that doesn’t quite capture the whole of it. That simple explanation doesn’t offer an explanation for just how deep and personal my fixation with Mushoku Tensei has been since its airing. I’ve watched plenty of bad anime and tossed them into the memory hole, but something about this one refuses to stop pestering me. It demands my attention even when I wish I could just forget it ever existed, like a splinter constantly pricking the back of my mind. And despite my best efforts, I’ve been unable to understand or explain what about this particular bad show makes it impossible for me to stop thinking about it.

So if there’s one thing I can thank Onimai for, it’s that it finally helped me realize why.

Sure, on the surface, these two shows don’t have that much in common. They’re both produced by studio Bind, both lavishly animated to a frankly absurd degree, both about adult men being zapped into a new child body for a second chance at life, and both clearly aiming to conquer the lolicon share of the market. But one’s an ostensibly epic fantasy while the other is a pastel-vomit cute girls gender-bender extravaganza. You wouldn’t think there’d be many comparison points to be made here. And yet, these two shows are similar. In fact, I’d argue that at heart, Mushoku Tensei and Onimai are essentially the same story, just filtered through different prisms of genre. And it’s in recognizing those similarities that I was finally able to unlock the reason behind my visceral fascination with Mushoku Tensei, and why this studio’s brand of storytelling leaves me so, so angry.

See, both Rudeus and Mahiro, in their past lives, were losers. And not just any losers, no; they were full on hikkikomori shut-in failures who retreated into extreme otakudom and porn addiction to cope with not being able to understand the world. They’re the embodiment of the saddest, most pathetic depths a person can sink to, the worst case scenario for so many socially-deficient anime fans who come to this medium to escape reality. But in their respective rebirths, Rudeus and Mahiro are suddenly given a chance to live their lives over- and this time, to do it right. Unbound from the failures of their past lives, either by leaving their gender behind or leaving the familiar world entirely, they’re given a clean slate to try, stumble, try again, and struggle their way to achieve the fulfillment and self-actualization they were unable to accomplish before. At heart, Mushoku Tensei and Onimai are both stories about taking the lowest form of human scum, offering them a do-over button, and watching them work through their issues until they’re able to embrace their new life and be a functional human being at last.

It’s not hard to see the appeal of that story. The idea that even the worst, most hopeless person imaginable can turn things around and become a well-rounded person is one of the most inspiring philosophies to live your life by. And I fully understand why those messages resonated so much with people. Hell, I’ll even admit that some moments in MT- Rudeus’ reconciliation with Paul, his hopelessness spiral in the final episode- were so moving that I genuinely felt something for the guy in spite of myself. Bind’s animators aren’t just exceptionally talented at making things move on screen, they make full use of the medium of animation to convey their stories with some of the strongest, most emotionally potent cinematic storytelling in this entire damn medium. They take these stories of broken people trying to be better and imbue them with the kind of artistry that makes them sink into your very soul. You feel the weight of Rudeus stepping over the threshold. You feel the importance of Mahiru coming to terms with her new identity. At their best, these shows will make you believe in humanity’s capacity for change like nothing else can.

At least until the moment passes and it gets back to being horny for twelve-year-olds.

And that’s the smoking gun. That’s the reason Mushoku Tensei and Onimai are both such agonizing experiences. Because in these incredibly affecting stories of personal betterment, these expertly told stories of people overcoming their worst selves and becoming fully realized people, they’re never forced to outgrow their pedophilia. Or rather, the audience of otaku who see themselves in these shows and use them as inspiration to improve their lives are never forced to. Because no matter how much these characters grow or change, the shows they’re attached to still find time to put pre-teen girls in various states of eroticization for the audience to enjoy. No matter how these shows challenges their audiences to see the worst parts of themselves and work on being better, they never portray being sexually attracted to children as something you need to leave behind. Studio Bind sells a fantasy where you can turn your poor situation around and live a worthwhile life without sacrificing your desire to beat off to twelve-year-olds. Don’t worry, it seems to say. We won’t really force you to confront the reasons why society shut you out.

In other words, both Mushoku Tensei and Onimai send a message that says: “You can become a better person without actually fixing the worst parts of yourself.” And because of how fucking good Bind is at preaching that message, the anime community bought it hook, line and sinker. It’s almost impressive; finally, we have an omega universe KyoAni to balance out the cosmic scales. Never before have I seen such incredible talent and artistry so consistently put to such evil use. But allow me to burst the bubble for everyone taken in; this studio is lying to you. These shows are lying to you. If you want to become a better person, you cannot hold onto your worst impulses like this. You cannot treat the darkest parts of yourself as an acceptable hanger-on. You need to be better than these shows believe you can be. Because the second you accept the half-measures they’re offering as a win state, you’ve already lost the battle.

Also, don’t beat off to twelve-year olds.

Can’t believe I even need to spell that out.

Look, just like Mushoku Tensei, there are moments in Onimai that really soar. The comedy is fun when it works, the animation is infectiously lively, and whenever it decides to take Mahiro’s journey seriously, it’s unironically powerful stuff. But also just like Mushoku Tensei, there’s no way to buy into the strengths of Onimai without accepting a constant stream of sexed-up prebubescent fetish shots (greatly ramped up from the manga, I’ve been told). And there’s just too much good anime these days for this to be forgivable. Countless shows big and small have proved you don’t need to cater to the worst of humanity to craft something truly special. There’s no need to suffer through this slop when countless shows are doing way more without subjecting you to this agony at the same time. So until Bind learns how to weave its magic without dunking it in dogshit along the way, they will only ever be a stain on an industry with far too many stains already. For now, though, I can only give Onimai a score of:

3/10

Welcome to the end of Winter 2023. Expect my seasonal reflection in a week or two!

[roobylavender]

sorry if you’ve been asked this before but could u explain ur bakugou truther lifestyle in a world where anime fans hate him lol

LMAO it honestly genuinely fascinates me how much people hate bakugou bc.. his arc does everything right. he starts his journey as someone so obsessed with expressions of power bc that's what he believes all might is emblematic of, that it drives him to bully others he deems weak and subsequently develops in himself a sheer terror at the idea of being weak. a terror that is then exacerbated into a truly ugly, volatile, festering self-hatred when deku gets an insane quirk that threatens to leave bakugou to the wayside after all of the years of effort. it is a very close parallel to the dynamic between naruto and sasuke as it develops at the outset but obv naruto and sasuke are part of an entirely different world. sasuke possesses the same complexes as bakugou not bc he's aspiring to be some revered hero but bc he lives in fear of losing everyone he loves, all over again. so in that sense i somewhat understand why people make fun of bakugou in comparison bc, well, his troubles really aren't that serious comparatively. he's lost no one and has no real reason to fear his own weakness. but i think to go about reading his character arc that way is a disservice to what it's trying to explore against the backdrop of mha's narrative as a whole, bc the point isn't to say that bakugou is justified in how he feels the way sasuke might be. quite the contrary in fact. bakugou is very much wrong and deku doesn't deserve a single ounce of his violence, but at the same time, bakugou is also a product of the society that they live in

i hate to make a comparison to endeavor bc i truly do not think they are anywhere near comparable (one is a child and one is an adult after all) so briefly bear with the reference here, but endeavor is not an anomaly. he's not the one unique person in this world's entire history who developed such an obsession with strength he was willing to put everyone else in harm's way for the sake of attaining it. if there can be one endeavor, there can be more, and i think it's arguable that bakugou is a brief glimpse of that. of someone who could grow up to become that same person, who cares for no one around him and views every person in his path as an obstacle or a stepping stone. but the difference here is that's not who bakugou actually is. his history with deku is complicated and rife with transgressions but there are multiple instances we're privy to of bakugou caring, of living in the world outside of pure achievement even if only for a spare moment. he has a capacity for kindness that others recognize in him and it infuriates him bc why should it even be impt when juxtaposed against strength. why should it matter. why should he even care. but he does care. about kirishima. about denki. about uraraka. about deku. and that's what all might really grasps onto and tries to pull back out to the surface with all of the strength that he can muster. he knows bakugou is better than what he's fashioned himself to be, and he knows bakugou knows it. if the parents in naruto largely go unaddressed for their failures, the crux of mha lies in its confrontation of the parents and their role in society. bakugou is always capable of kindness, but it's bc all might (and deku and uraraka and kirishima) constantly lets him know that his kindness is a strength in and of itself that bakugou starts to look inward. that he starts to evaluate how he's acted, who he's hurt, why he's done the things he's done. how powerless he's felt—not at the thought of not achieving #1, but at the thought of not being able to save the friends he cares about

it's bc of the fact that bakugou exists in this world, and not naruto's world, that he gets to do everything right. he gets the emotional support and guidance from a mentor figure. he gets to do the introspective thinking where his actions are evaluated and conclusions are made as to how he moves forward. it's precisely bc the end goal does not matter, in fact there is no end goal anymore. all that matters is the here and now and being able to stand alongside the people around him so that they can support each other. the parameters by which bakugou is allowed to receive closure and move on are clear cut in a way naruto's world could never have allowed them to be, and i genuinely believe that makes people angry bc if anything this is what they wanted for sasuke. not the relentless baggage and manipulation and lack of support. he didn't deserve not to have those things even though the point being made by naruto was precisely to highlight what a lack of those things in context of an exploitative military-industrial complex creates. no one seems to understand the point being made by mha, while somewhat analogous in nature, nonetheless goes the other way—not to highlight what a lack of emotional support and stability create, but to advocate for what their presence can constructively heal. mha is not so much concerned with addressing systems as it is with addressing individuals. hence why we even have an arc like endeavor's, where he in all likelihood will never be forgiven by the rest of his family, but his commitment to altering course will nonetheless be critical so as not to perpetuate further harm

and that's why bakugou interests me so much. i'm a sasuke truther too and i love him in his own way but i love that bakugou is in a series where personal accountability is so important bc it means he does all of the work himself. yes, he does receive encouragement and guidance from others but it's ultimately his choice to make whether or not he wants to change, and he does. he is repeatedly, consistently accountable to himself and to the people around him and to deku esp and i can't describe how monumental it is to see him not only put that sentiment into action but into words. the conversations he has with all might, with that one small kid whose name totally escapes me in this moment but if you've read you'll know what i mean, with deku. the fact that he takes a whole lightning strike or whatever the fuck it was (sorry. i haven't kept up with mha for a while it's quite sporadic) for deku bc his whole definition of strength has shifted on its access. talented. brilliant. incredible. amazing. showstopping. spectacular. never the same. totally unique. not ever been done before. etc. when they put him in the meat grinder and killed him i was so overwhelmed with joy bc yes on its face it's sad* but he's come so far. from someone who let so many civilians die on his entrance exam to someone who sacrificed his own life for the sake of others. it's insane! and i love him so, so deeply and he's one of my favorite deuteragonists in any shounen ever. i think everyone seems to be caught up not only on whatever i've been talking about so far but also on the idea that bakugou's a shitty deuteragonist bc he doesn't have his own personal villain the way everyone else does and it's like. hello. he never needed one. bakugou's own personal villain was himself. and he unequivocally beat him

*i really don't care that the death was a fake out.. he's still dead to me my sweet babie

[itsclydebitches]

At the end of 3x10 when Keeley is talking to Rebecca she says that Rebecca would have to be dumb to take her ex back just like that in a moment of weakness. The tone in which she said it, Roy entering the scene right at that moment, the way she nervously turned around to face him and her meek hi... I knew they were not back together so 3x11 didn't surprise me at all.

I honestly don't understand how people were surprised by it? Don't they listen to Keeley at all? Do they just care about Roy?

And all throughout 3x11 she kept saying they're just friends and ignoring Roy's compliments because "You want me to help Jamie? 😊"

And her expression and tone of voice when Roy says he doesn't want to be just friends... she looked ready to (very kindly and offering physical comfort) turn him down.

I mean she was just dumped by her abusive ex and got funds pulled from her firm. She most likely latched on to Roy because he showed her affection (much like she had sex with Jamie after breaking up with him because she was feeling lonely and he was respectful and not looking for sex)

Just give her a break, she doesn't exist just to revolve around Roy's character

And they've barely interacted this season

This definitely doesn't feel like a final season but alas

I think you're implying a bias that's not actually a factor here with the "Don't they listen to Keeley at all? Do they just care about Roy?" questions. I can't speak for anyone else, but it's because I was listening to Keely in that 3x10 scene that I thought they were back together.

First, there's a huge difference between dating Roy and dating Rupert. Keeley is not talking about taking exes back as a general rule, but rather the specific context of Rupert trying to get back together with Rebecca. AKA an abuser trying to lure in a victim again. That's explicitly how she phrases it, talking up the horror that would ensue if Rebecca "fell for it" again and enunciating Rupert's name as the clear disgust factor in this scenario. She then goes on to summarize why Rupert would be an awful individual to take back:

"After all that floppy cock has done, you would have to be insane [to take him back]."

That's the context and it's an important one in comparing Rebecca's situation to Keeley's. As you point out, she's just come out of an abusive relationship, which means that Roy is the comparative gold standard given how well he's treated her in the past + his willingness to improve. For Keeley, taking Roy back is a good thing whereas Rebecca taking Rupert back would, for obvious reasons, be a terrible, damaging choice.

So it's not 'Oh my god only an idiot would ever take their ex back' it's 'You taking Rupert back would be insane.' Yes, there is an element of Rebecca teasing Keeley for the almost hypocrisy (you can see it in her expression) when Roy walks out, but the writing is aware that it's a false equivalency. Keeley is a little embarrassed because yeah, she was just ranting about Rebecca potentially getting back together with an ex and then here comes Roy, her ex, waltzing out in her bathrobe... but everyone there understands that it's not actually the same thing. To me, Keeley's meek little "Hi" was a combination of responding to that playful teasing and the general awkwardness of your lover wandering out when her back is turned and she hasn't told her BFF yet that they're back together... not evidence that she's ashamed/hesitant/regretful/any emotion that would imply a 'just friends' situation. This is just an awkward situation, so Keeley responds awkwardly.

The fact that we do have this (surface level) comparison of getting back together with exes and Keeley NOT correcting Rebecca about her assumptions means that the viewer is most likely to come away thinking they're an item again. Keeley loves Roy; she never wanted to break up. Roy loves Keeley; he was just dealing with insecurities about what he brings to the relationship. Roy shows up on Keeley's doorstep with a love letter, they have sex, there's a setup joke about getting back with an ex, and then the scene ends with Rebecca assuming they're an item and smiles all around. So yeah, I was personally surprised by the "Just friends" angle when, from my perspective, two seasons of writing + the latest episode have consistently pushed them as endgame with, of course, the finale coming on fast.

As for the rest, I'd need to re-watch 3x11 to comment. I really didn't get that 'Keeley was trying to kindly let him down' vibe on first viewing, but again, I'd need to take a closer look to be sure. No, Keeley doesn't exist to revolve around Roy's character... and I think Ted Lasso has done a really good job of writing that. As you say yourself, they haven't spent much time together this season because Keeley has been off living her own life outside of Roy: starting a firm, making new friends, dating new people. Just because she's (likely) getting back together with someone who, again, she's been set up to be with almost since the start of the show doesn't mean she's suddenly lost her individuality as a character. Ted Lasso is a show that is both structurally and textually (Ted's "rom-communism" speech) pulling from Rom-Com tropes, which includes the very common "Leads separate for a time" obstacle. One character needing time to come to terms with the relationship and another dating Looks Good On The Surface But Is Actually All Wrong For Them love interests are both go-to staples of the genre. Unless Ted Lasso pulls a fast one in tomorrow's finale, Keeley and Roy are in their last 15 minutes of the movie stage where they reconcile and move forwards as a happy couple.

Which is precisely why the "Just friend" angle feels weird at this late a stage and with only one episode left. Unless they really wanted a last-minute conflict for them to work through during the finale -- or, again, they're subverting expectations and they won't end up together -- there's no good reason to introduce that when their arc is already pretty complete. Let them be happy throughout the finale and put that time towards established conflicts that need resolving, rather than new ones introduced an episode before.

[dwellerinroots]

Musings on a Prince of Dreams

Since I am now mercifully unburdened by obligations, but way too tired to do anything - plotted, for lack of a better word, I thought I'd finally get around to writing a bit about Daedra, Dreams, and meaning. CW; dark themes, nothing in particular, but 'generally dark.' And remember, we shall not abandon the dream...

I. A brief overview of Daedra and their role; Daedra are often crudely interpreted as 'bad gods.' Part of this is through authorial intent, but a great portion is through reader intent, and reader interpretation. I want to state of course that the latter is entirely valid, it's one of the reasons we're all here, but authorial intent matters as do the tools given to us to interpret. From a modern perspective, the Daedra offer very little. No matter how much power and how good the terms are, it often seems a difficult proposition to approach the Daedra for a bargain, even if you are fundamentally amoral. The cost for entry is high; you will be asked to do something that is either abhorrent, or difficult, and often both. In return, you get - something, perhaps powerful, but in a setting where it is possible for a farmer to trip over tools of great power; perhaps beyond their understanding, yes, but still present. So, why not turn to active gods who are actively good or at least benign, instead? Understanding this means understanding Tamrielic theology. That would be a post several novels in the making, and one I do feel qualified to write, but over time. What we can boil it down to here is this: * Daedra offer extraordinary power for those who take the greatest devotionals, but offer subtler gifts to those of more common bent and desire. * We rarely see these common gifts, but they are described and implied in every game the Daedra are present in. * In-universe, the Daedra are not universally viewed as 'bad gods' or even demons. It is important to remember that the structured pantheism of most Nedic religions, the ancestor cults + gods that are found among some Mer and Beasts, and the very funky Hist are entirely apart from how we understand religion, not just in our present, but in our past. * Though comparisons can be made, suffice to say that it is unlikely that pocket dimensional entities will offer you a cool stick that zorches your enemies into pecan pie right now. If they do, you probably voted for Ted Peterson in the sexyman contest, and it's a proper reward for devotion granted. * Even in areas where Daedric worship - any/all - is soundly rejected, there are regions that, either philosophically or openly, do not denounce them entirely. In Cyrodiil itself, traditionalist Colovian and Niben Valley philosophers will come to very different conclusions on what should or should not be worshipped - or propitiated - and that is right in the Empire. Now know that people like this are scattered everywhere, and so even where Daedric worship is stamped out, it is only done so on a very surface level.

So why do people worship Daedra if they aren't interested in a skull that is arguably one of the most useless artifacts of the game? Daedra grant relief from life. II. Daedra and their teachings; People see Molag Bal, look at his* divine profile, and immediately retreat. People see Mehrunes Dagon, see through his clear bluster, and immediately retreat. You can repeat this for almost all the Daedra without exception, but to a lesser extent to the more 'harmless' ones. But there is no harmlessness in life. Molag Bal's cruelties may effect a fraction of Dagon's chaos; does that make the one worse then the other? If Namira sends a pestilence that kills all of their followers, but many innocents as well, who is 'good' here? Who is 'least vile?' (If you immediately went 'Clavicus,' you can pause here for a brief chuckle. You've earned it.) What the Daedra offer is relief. And you might roll your eyes and think that few would be tempted to petty cruelty to scratch an itch on existence, but think about how many people use words like kill with - obviously hyperbolic intent. Hyperbolic. They'd never. But let's pretend that they really wouldn't; the Daedra are not monoliths. They are Princes, whose demesnes are vast, as the names of the gods have epithets. Namira's domain of pestilence and decay also feeds into rebirth. Canny farmers might look to their gods or ancestors for good harvests, but observe the worms in their gardens, and know. Sanguine's hedonism leads to decadence, sloth, pride, and loss; there are always dark undersides to his revelries. But those who endure them become more disciplined, more aware of the self, and more worldly in turn. The blood-hunts of Hircine are violent and primal; but that is life, a constant struggle for existence where vitality and skill are rarely enough to make it another day. Hircine teaches honour and a degree of understanding, not just of the natural world - but of the shunned, and those that cannot make it. At the end of the hunt, it is their blood that stains the spear; and that is of value, too. None of these are 'good' nor are they 'easy,' but they happen. In a world where gods and spirits, mages and planar powers regularly interact with the world, accepting them is almost as important as our own. So, what then of Vaermina? III. VAERMINA Widely considered to be one of the most undesirable Princes for a follower, Vaermina has almost-total control over the realm of Dreams. This demesne is unfathomably wide; all creatures, perhaps, dream. And even if you view that only 'sentient' souls dream, craving a dividing line between things that think and things to eat, how many souls does that remain? Countless. Countless souls who feed into the power of the Prince, herself. Yet Vaermina often comes across as simultaneously impetuous and shortsighted, authoritarian - even for a Daedra - and almost weak-willed, which seems peculiar. Surely, with such a wide net to draw from, she should be considered one of the most powerful and terrible of the Daedra, and treated accordingly..? We must backtrack, for a moment. Daedra are not wholly evil, nor or are they particularly acknowledged by the known gods. If it were a contest, any of the Aedra could probably one-versus-one them; but the Daedra to the Aedra are as we are to the Daedra.

Unworthy of notice.

Each, despite having unfathomable power to us, is limited by how cunningly they can interpret their domain, and the rules within. This is dangerous; Sheogorath famously 'cursed' himself and Jyggalag, or perhaps the inverse. It hardly matters; if Jyggalag truly saw and understood the situation, I think you will find that relevant as we discuss Vaermina.

'Safe' Princes attempt to hew to their boxes of sky, or merge them into our known material world. Both of these are less risky then expanding too quickly, and being struck down by powerful gods - or Men, or Mer, or Beasts - for there are heroes who might challenge even Daedra and win. (Also, the Argonians. Dagon, you absolute clown. Get fucked throughout all kalpas.)**

'Aggressive' Princes dream of how they might use their powers to greatest advantage.

But Vaermina rarely dreams; they are for others. Her actions see her most often acting like a petty-tyrant. I don't think I need to detail her quests, here.

And yet...

People continue to seek her out. Why?

Life is hard; life is often terrible. There are countless people who might dream of horrible tortures, alien skies, cruel and unknowable creatures and think -

ah this gentleness is a relief

and i would stay here, forever, if i might.

Is it so strange to think that - if your dreams are demon-haunted realms, but they are a momentary reprise from things you do not, cannot bear - That even the faces of imagined tormentors might one day be thought of as friends..? The gentleness of nightgaunts is not something everyone would understand. Vaermina does not need this; after all, she has a near-monopoly on dreams - though that is not enough, of course. For there is one last thing to mention. This is entirely my personal thought, and though I'd strongly defend the above as - at the very least - canon-adjacent, this next bit is guesswork. A dream, if you will. IV. the death of dreams Dreams have special significance in Elder Scrolls. All of the world is a dream, or perhaps the dream that is all of the world. The edges of the world are a dream, and when you forget what they look like, you forget what you look like in turn. Some think that the Dwemer understood the dream, and were destroyed by it; or destroyed themselves. What matters is that Vaermina, as master of all dreams, must surely be aware that no matter how great and powerful she is, it is in fact just another dream inside a dream. What is the most infuriating thing you could imagine? How would it feel to be aware that reality is fake, lack the words to articulate, lack the creativity to depict it in anyway, and be bound to holding up the corners of the illusion, forever? Might you grow cruel, and vicious, especially to those followers who worshipped the fake reality, their idealised and painful dream, over the dreams you might even wish to grant them..? This maze of dreams goes incredibly far; farther than I could do credit. Blessed as I am by the Prince, I notice these things. How could I not? After all, when you first start a certain journey, born under a certain star, one of the first things you hear, is... As all Princes can be aspects of - if not good things, things that inspire growth - I think it is worth taking a look at just how fittingly ironic the shackles that hold the Daedra back are; self-inflicted flaws in their plans or schemes, or perhaps Vaermina being stuck in a quagmire she cannot quite escape from. Her frustrations leading to her relying on the quick fix of nightmares, of terror without purpose, ends up closing the door on followers who seek anything BUT nightmares, even if just as a balm. These are the least likely to understand her own frustrations and limits, leading to further frustrations - a fittingly Sisyphean punishment, one ensuring that the end of the dream will ever be out of reach. But to those few whose affections reach her, Vaermina can be generous, even kind - and perhaps even the cruel and mercurial Prince wishes, at times, that she might grant sweet dreams - or even just the peace of a night without thought, adrift in a starless sea. * Obviously, Daedra are sex/gender agnostic. I use the pronouns they are most known by; but they're Daedra. ** I just love the canonical lore of the Hist being like 'hey little lizard buddies/pollinators/friends/serfs (interpretation may vary), could you go fuck the ever-loving shit out of the weak planar parasite bothering me i'll give you buffs owo' and then it does. I'm not saying the Hist is the best true divine/intercosmic entity, but......... *** Here's the punchline. I have a diagnosed sleeping disorder, it's quite manageable, but my eyes are dark portals into the void and my (likely former) roomie pointed out I was clearly in with Vaermina. So that's it. That's why I'm here to talk to you about Our Prince of Nightmares.

[americasass91]

The Shield and the Sweater

Hello lovelies! This little fic came to me when the lovely, beautiful, talented @stargazingfangirl18​ asked a very important question on her blog. Would you rather be enemies to lovers with Steve Rogers or friends with benefits with Ransom Drysdale. Well my greedy ass wanted both. Thus the birth of this story. I also turned it around a little to make it fit into Siri’s 5k Soft Dark Challenge! I’ve never written anything dark before. Also not sure if this classifies as soft!dark or if it’s more dark. But it’s one of those! If that makes you uncomfortable, then please don’t read it. This is also my first time writing a threesome, so let me know if it sucks! I hope you enjoy it! 😘

General prompts:

8)The town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

Dialogue prompts:

3)”Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

11)”I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

Rating: Explicit(if you’re under 18, please leave)

Words: 6.2k(this one got away from me, sorry)

Warnings: soft!dark/dark themes, unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, threesome(M/M/F), manipulation, language, model!Ransom being an asshole, Steve not being who you think he is

“And I really think if everyone pitches in to make these changes, it’ll really make a difference in the long run.”

Wow, so this is how you were going to die. In your whole 20 something years of existence, you never thought boredom would be your cause of death.

Sure, you were the lead Accountant at Stark Tower and these monthly meetings were mandatory. But did you really have to be here to listen to Rogers go on and on about how we can ‘improve our working environment’? Why did he even care anyway? He was barely ever here as it is.

You must have been zoning out worse than you thought because next thing you know your coworker, Janet, is poking you in the side and pointing towards Steve.

With a quick glare sent her way, you move your gaze to the Captain. He is giving you the same look he always does. Like he’s disgusted with you. “I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N. Am I boring you?”

A scoff escapes your mouth. “No, not at all Captain Rogers. I just love when people who are never here seem to always have an opinion on how things are run and how they could be better.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Do you have a problem with me, Y/N? Cause if you do, I’m sure there’s a way to solve that.”

You stand up and match his expression. You lean forward with your hands resting on the table. You can’t help but notice the Captain drops his gaze to your cleavage that’s now on more display than before. But just as quick as it was there, his gaze rises back up to meet your face. “Is that a threat, Captain Rogers?”

“Oh, it’s more than a-“

Tony quickly stands up and claps his hands together. “Okay! Meeting adjourned! You two, come here!”

You quickly straighten yourself up and make your way over to Tony. You always try to make sure you show him as much respect as you can. He’s your boss after all.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. My emotions got the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

He nods to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I accept your apology. But what I’m not understanding is why Steve here wanted to fire you?”

You both turn to look at Steve who has a sheepish expression on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that, Tony. She just seems to bring out this ugly side of me. I’ll try to keep it more contained next time.” He then moves his gaze to you. “Sorry, Y/N. I promise to be more professional moving forward.”

He makes a quick exit, leaving you shocked that he apologized at all. Ever since you started here almost a year ago now, you’ve been at each other’s throats. It was your fault really.

It was your first week and you were in the break room grabbing some coffee when you overheard a few of your coworkers making fun of Steve for being a virgin. Now, you weren’t sure if it was true but you wanted to fit in so you made your way over to the group and asked if anyone calls him Captain Virgin. That earned you some big laughs. But the laughter died down quickly as Steve entered the room to grab some coffee. Judging by the glare he gave you, he heard what you had called him.

You went straight to Tony after that to apologize. You really didn’t want to get fired. But you wanted to make sure Tony heard the story from you before Steve got the chance to talk to him. To your utter surprise, Tony found the name hilarious and gave you a high five, saying you were going to fit right in.

Well long story short, it’s almost a year later and Steve is still getting called Captain Virgin. Oh but don’t worry, he has names of his own for you. His favorite is Tony’s Pet. For some reason, it really eats at you when he calls you that.

But the one thing you hate the most about Steve?

Is how utterly, hopelessly, and desperately attracted you are to the son of a bitch.

That happened in your second week when you went to use the complimentary gym and saw him beating the shit out of some poor punching bag. Your panties and your workout were definitely ruined after that.

The more you fought with Steve, the more you just wanted him to bend you over any surface and have his way with you.  

It was despicable how horny you were for him. You were pretty sure all he’d have to do is snap his fingers and point to the floor in front of him and you’d happily drop to your knees and take him down your throat.

So that left you leaving work every day in a horny state. You started by taking care of it yourself when you got home. But after a while even that wasn’t cutting it. Then you started bringing home one night stands. But after the 4th disappointing non-orgasm, you gave up and just learned to live with it.

Sure, you could attempt to start being nice to Steve and maybe ask him out. But you were pretty sure he hated you. Plus you have way too much pride to actually do that.

So that leads to now. It’s Friday night and your workday is almost over. You’re inputting the last few numbers from the last expense report in your pile.

You get the last number put in when Janet approaches you. She sits on the corner of your desk. “So, you coming tonight?”

You take your glasses off and lean back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. “Coming where?”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Oh, come on Y/N! You know we go out almost every Friday night. You never come and you always say you will!”

You start to clear off your desk and put things back in their place. “Yeah well I could. Or I could go home and sit on my ass and do nothing.”

“Well, that explains why it’s looking a bit bigger lately.”

Janet’s jaw drops as she directs her gaze at Steve, who is now standing in front of your desk.

You smirk and lean on your elbows towards him. “You like looking at my ass, Rogers?”

He scoffs. “Well when it takes up that much space, it’s hard not to notice. But here, I came to give you this.”

He hands you what looks to be a 10 page expense report. “Sorry it’s late, I’ve been busy, you know. Saving the world.”

You ungraciously take it from him and throw it in your to-do pile. “That can wait until Monday. I’ve got plans. We’re going to-” you look towards Janet for clarification. “Lavo.” You turn your gaze back to Steve. “Yeah, we’re going to Lavo. So this will wait til Monday if that’s okay with you, sir.”

Steve does his best to move his bag and jacket subtly towards the front of his pants so you won’t notice his growing hard-on. He hates how turned on he gets when you guys get into it. And then you call him sir? Jesus. He clears his throat. “Of course, I'm the one who turned it in at the last minute.”

Janet speaks up quickly. “You could always come with us! It’ll be fun!”

You grin widely at him. “Yeah! You could finally get your cherry popped, Captain Virgin.”

Steve can’t help the blush that covers his cheeks. “Uh, I can assure you my cherry has been popped since the 40’s. But thank you for your concern. And thank you for the invite, Janet. But i think I’ll stay in tonight.” He takes out his phone and sends a quick text before turning around and walking towards the elevators.

Wow. He didn’t even try to retaliate. You shrug your shoulders and grab your purse before standing up. “Alright, I’ll go! But on one condition!”

Janet claps her hands in excitement and starts walking with you towards the elevators. “Sure, anything!”

You press the button for the lobby. “You are going to be my wingwoman. Cause this girl definitely needs to get laid.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Lavo is super packed by the time you guys arrive. Of course you all had to go home and change.

You decided to go with a simple, yet effective, little black dress that showed off just enough to get men’s attention.

Thankfully you are able to score the last table. The waiter comes over and gets everyone’s drink order. You decide to stick with your favorite. You don’t want to get too drunk on the off chance you find someone to take home.

About a half hour into hot office gossip, Lucy, who is sitting across from you, taps your arm. You raise your eyebrows in question towards her.

She subtly nods her head towards the bar. “Okay I’m pretty sure the hottest guy I have ever seen is checking you out.”

You can’t help the smirk that crosses your face. “Yeah? Which one?”

“You can’t miss him. He’s fucking hot. Like no comparison to any of the other dudes sitting up there.”

You glance down at your drink and quickly finish the remainder. You stand up and adjust your dress, pushing up your breasts in the process. “Well, then I guess it’s time for a refill.” You wink and turn to make your way towards the bar.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. And boy was Lucy not kidding. He was fucking hot. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a smug smirk that would normally turn you off. But on him it worked. And who even looks that good in a fucking cream colored cable knit?

You go up to the bar, not too close to Mr. Hottie of course, and patiently wait for the bartender.

Hottie McHothot not so subtly moves his gaze up and down your body. He must like what he sees. “Hey honey, have you ever raised chickens?”

Uh. That’s definitely not the first thing you expected to come out of his mouth. You look over at him with confusion on your face. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “Just kinda figured you might. Cause you sure can raise a cock.”

Okay, you’ve definitely never heard that line before. You crack up. You’re pretty sure you even snorted on accident. Once you collect yourself you ask, “Has that line ever worked for you?”

The bartender makes his way over to take your order. After reordering what you had before, you turn towards Hottie and wait for his answer.

“Not sure, my buddy told it to me yesterday so this is the first time I’m using it. Did it work?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It was pretty cheesy.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it got you to laugh. So I’d say mission accomplished. Name’s Ransom. What’s yours, pretty girl?” He holds out his hand for you to shake.

Ransom. Now where have you heard that name before? You accept his hand shake. You can’t help but notice how much bigger his hands are than yours. Jesus. You could already feel your panties getting wet.

“My name’s Y/N. Ransom, that sounds familiar. Do I know you?”

He releases your hand and goes to take a sip of his bourbon. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you read magazines or have you seen the side of the city bus lately?”

You quickly wrack your brain. You don’t read many magazines. But the bus drives by you everyday on your walk to work. Holy shit! That’s it! He’s in his underwear on the side of the bus. You’ve drooled over that picture plenty of times.

“Oh, yeah! I remember now! I’ve seen you on the bus! What’s it an ad for? I can never really get past the almost naked man. A bit distracting on my way to work.”

He smirks as he briefly glances down at your breasts. “I’m glad you know my work. It’s an ad for Calvin Klein. For their new line of men’s briefs. Sorry I’ve been a distraction.” He sends you a wink.

Fuck. He was a model. And a popular one at that if he’s in an ad for Calvin Klein.

“I didn’t say I minded. You can make it up to me you know.” You wink back. Holy shit. Were you really flirting with a model?

“Yeah? Well, how about we get out of here and I’ll show you a fully naked man.”

Okay. Cheesy line number 2. Was that really going to work on you?

Yes.

Yes it was.

“Let me just go grab my purse.”

Drink forgotten, you go back to your table as quickly as you can without looking desperate. “Sorry, girls. But this is where I leave you.”

Janet glances down at her phone. “We haven’t even been here an hour yet! Where are you going?”

You send her a wink. “I’m leaving with that guy! You guys know him! Remember that ad on the side of the bus?”

They all turn their gaze to him. And they all make it very obvious. He just waves and sends them a smirk.

“Holy fucking shit! That’s the new Calvin Klein guy! Oh my god you lucky bitch!”

“Wait! Listen. We’ll let you go on one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Okay?”

Janet gives you a naughty smirk. “On Monday I’ll need a report on if they had to stuff his briefs to get that delicious looking bulge or not.”

You give her a naughty smirk of your own. “I can totally do that.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Monday morning you were all smiles as you stepped off the elevator and headed towards your desk. You give Janet a wink as you pass by her. She quickly makes her way over just as you sit down. “Um, excuse me hoe. But is that the same dress you were wearing Friday night?”

You quickly grab the cardigan you always keep in your desk out and put it on and button it up, attempting to look a little more professional. “Maybe.”

Janet opens her mouth in shock. “You stayed the whole weekend with him? You little slut! How was it?”

You turn on your computer and grab for the expense report of Steve’s you left in your to-do pile. Then you turn towards your nosy coworker. “Well, if you must know, yes. I did stay the whole weekend with him. And I’m pretty sure I was in an orgasm-induced coma the whole time. It’s all kind of a rough, sticky, mind-blowing blur.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you put in your login information on the computer. “I haven’t decided yet. While the sex was the best I’ve ever had, he’s kind of an ass. Talked about himself and all the famous people he’s hooked up with since becoming a model. I honestly kept initiating sex just to make him shut up.”

She gives you a look like you’re stupid. “I’m not seeing the issue here. So what if he talks about himself a lot? The sex was amazing. You need to lock that down girl.”

You roll your eyes at her. “That’s the thing, Janet. He doesn’t do relationships. He told me so multiple times. Plus I’m pretty sure he was texting another chick in between our ‘sessions’. I suppose if I’m desperate, I’ll get a hold of him.”

“You know you could always just have him on backup for sex. Like a friends with benefits situation.”

“Janet, I’m in my late 20s. I’m too old for that kind of relationship.”

“Exactly, you’re in your late 20s! This is the perfect time for that kind of relationship before you settle down and get married! Have one last final hoorah!”

“I can’t have this conversation before caffeine. I’m going to get coffee. You act like I’m dying soon or something.” You turn to walk away but then remember you were supposed to tell her something. “Oh yeah and by the way. The bulge is definitely not stuffed.”

You give her a wink and then head to the break room for some much needed coffee. When you see who’s in there, you almost contemplate going downstairs to a different break room.

Steve is standing at the counter, preparing his coffee. He turns when he hears you come in and gives you a once over. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You grab a mug out of the cabinet beside him. “Sorry my appearance isn’t up to your standards today, Rogers. I was a little...busy this weekend.”

He takes a sip of his coffee to make sure it’s right. Then he moves out of your way so you can get to the coffee, but still staying close. “Busy getting run over by a truck? Cause that’s kind of what you look like.”

You pour yourself a generous amount of coffee and take a long sip, letting the bitter liquid slowly make you human. “Yeah, well. I was busy getting fucked all weekend, Rogers. But I know your little innocent mind wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

That wipes the stupid little smirk right off his face. He almost looks pissed. He moves even closer to you. Almost pressing himself right up against you. So close that you can smell his coffee-scented breath. If you were wearing panties, they’d be ruined.

“Not all of us feel the need to sleep around. Some of us are looking for a real connection. Not just a one night stand of meaningless, mediocre sex.”

You press yourself just a little closer to him, his chest now touching yours. “Oh, it was anything but mediocre. Maybe if you actually got some, you’d know what that feels like.”

He leans his head down until his mouth is next to your ear, his left hand now resting on your hip. “You really need to stop insinuating that I’m a virgin sweetheart. If you were nicer to me, I’d show you that I know how to fuck.” With that he backs up and heads out of the break room.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Jesus Christ. You swear you almost came.

And if you were nicer to him? Fuck him. He’s not nice to you either. That’s okay. You have someone who can scratch this itch.

You pull out your phone and send a quick text.

To: Fuckboi

You busy tonight? I could really use a release.

The reply came almost immediately.

From: Fuckboi

Didn’t get enough of my cock this weekend huh? I suppose I could make myself available.

You roll your eyes and quickly reply with your address and what time to be over.

The rest of the day passes by slowly. It takes you half the day to enter Steve’s expense report. God he’s descriptive. At least it’s completed. You can’t really say that much for the other Avengers. They usually half assed them and made them barely acceptable.

You are shutting down for the day when Steve approaches your desk. You remove your glasses and look at him expectantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Steve?”

A blush creeps it’s way across his cheeks. “Um, I was actually just wondering if you had time to go over the new expense report forms? They should be a lot easier to fill out.”

You glance down at the clock on your computer. Ransom is going to be at your place in about 20 minutes.“Can we do it tomorrow? I have company that’ll be showing up at my apartment in like 20 minutes.”

His hopeful smile falls. His face is now unreadable. “Would your company happen to be whoever you spent the weekend with?”

Confused, you grab for your purse after getting your computer shut down. “Actually, yes. Should I have asked your permission first?” You attempt a joke to ease the sudden tension.

He pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. Wow. You weren’t aware he knew how to text. You hear it ping with a reply before he angrily puts it back in his pocket. “Sure, we can do this tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your whoreing around.”

Your jaw drops in surprise. Sure you guys were always throwing jabs at each other. But he’d never said anything like this before. And in such a mean tone.

You round your desk and stand right in front of him. “Fuck you, Steve.”

You hurry towards the elevators before he can see the tears that have welled up. You couldn’t let him know he had that power over you. Asshole. Thank god Ransom was coming over. Hopefully he could fuck what Steve just said right out of your head.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms Ransom has pulled from you with his mouth when there’s a knock on your door.

Ransom looks up at you from his kneeling position on your living room floor. “Did you invite someone else to join us, pretty girl?”

You scoff and push him away so you can stand up. You pull your dress down as you make your way towards the door. “Yeah. I can barely handle just you. I’m pretty sure if we added someone else, I’d actually die.”

You open the door and gasp in surprise. “Steve? What are you doing here?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Look, I know you probably already have company but I felt really bad about what I said to you earlier today and wanted to apologize.”

You have so many questions. “How did you know where I lived?”

That sheepish smile makes its appearance again. “I may or may not have looked in your employee file.”

You shake your head. “And you felt the need to come all the way here and apologize? Why not just text me?”

“It would only have felt right to me to do it in person. I really am sor-”

You feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. “Well, who do we have here? Why is Captain America at your door?”

You turn your head to address Ransom. “He just came by to apologize to me. I think he was just leaving.”

Steve has a disappointed look on his face. “Yeah, I suppose I was.”

“Awe, what a shame. I thought you were gonna ask him to join us, pretty girl.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide at the thought. You quickly speak up. “No, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with that. He’s a little old fashioned.” You give him a sincere smile. You didn't think that was a bad thing.

Steve looks back towards the elevators and then back to you. He clears his throat. “What if I wanted to join you?” Seeing your wide eyed look, he quickly adds, “Only if Y/N would be comfortable with that of course.”

You contemplate what the consequences could be in your head. But then you get distracted when Ransom starts grinding his hard on against your ass. “Come on, pretty girl. Make a decision.”

The next word comes out of your mouth faster than what your brain can process. “Okay.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Now you were standing awkwardly in your bedroom with Steve and Ransom looking at you expectantly.

You’ve never done this before so you’re not sure how this is supposed to go. “So, um. How do we start exactly?”

Ransom smirks and comes up behind you. “I think you should call the shots, pretty girl. If you’re okay with that, Steve?”

With the mention of his name, he walks towards you and places his hands on your hips. “I think that’s a great idea. Can I kiss you now?” He places his hand under your chin and raises your face up to meet his. “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” With that, his lips meet yours. It’s explosive. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck and press yourself up against him.

You get so lost in the kiss, you forget that Ransom is there. That is until he presses his lips against your neck and presses himself against your ass. It presses you even further against Steve, making you feel his excitement against your lower belly.

You’re so overwhelmed already and you’d barely started. You may not survive this evening.

As you move your hands down to remove Steve’s shirt, Ransom is unzipping your dress, pressing kisses to every inch of exposed skin.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve moves his hands around to unhook your bra so he can get his hands on your breasts. He pinches your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. He moves his lips to your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

After successfully removing your dress, Ransom stands back up and turns your head to connect your lips. He starts rutting his clothed hard on against your naked ass. His left hand reaches around to bat one of Steve’s away so he can squeeze your breast.

Steve takes the hand that had been swatted away and moves it down to your soaking wet core. He starts lightly circling your clit. Just enough pressure to make you mewl.

You reach behind you with your left hand and tug at the waistband of Ransom’s briefs. “Off.” You moan out as you take your right hand and start attempting to take off Steve’s jeans. He smirks into your neck and helps you out. He barely gets them unbuttoned and unzipped before you’re reaching your hand into them and his boxers to grab his cock. It feels big.

Ransom grabs your left hand and places it on his now free cock. You wrap your hand around it and give it a squeeze before you start pumping your hand up and down. You do the same to Steve’s, making the both of them let out grunts against both sides of your neck. Steve increases the pressure on your clit a little. Still not enough.

“Nee-need, you. Please.” You weakly moan out. Ransom moves his mouth up to your ear. “How do you want us, pretty girl?”

You reluctantly pull away from both of them so you can think. You decide to be greedy. You point to Steve. “I want you to lay on the bed, please.”

He does as you ask. Putting his hands behind his head as he awaits further instructions.

You get on the bed and straddle him. You turn around and reach your arm out for Ransom. “Want you behind me.” You lean over and open your bedside drawer to grab the lube and toss it at Ransom. He smirks as he straddles Steve’s legs and gets behind you. He uncaps the lube and starts coating his cock with a generous amount. “Need my cock in that ass, pretty girl?”

You hold up your hand. “Wait.” You lean down towards Steve and give him a quick kiss. “Are you okay with this?”

He nods his head. “As long as you are.” You raise back up and smile at him. You turn your head and look at Ransom. “I’m assuming you're okay with this?”

He just smirks and squeezes some lube out so that it slides down the crack of your ass. “More than okay, pretty girl. Need me to stretch you out first?”

You smirk and pull him in for a quick, filthy kiss. “I think it got plenty stretched out this weekend.”

He matches your smirk. “You little slut. Wanting both of our cocks stuffing you full.”

You whimper as he lands a smack on your ass. Leaning up on your knees, you grab a hold of Steve’s cock and start running his tip up and down your folds. He places his left hand on your right hip and his right hand on your left thigh. “Condom?”

You quickly shake your head and pause your actions. “On the pill. Unless of course you’d be more comfortable with one.”

He shakes his head. “No, just making sure.”

You turn back to Ransom. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

He nods and places his hands on your shoulders, waiting somewhat patiently.

You slowly sink down on Steve’s cock. He’s stretching you out so deliciously. It burns in just the right way. Ransom may be longer, but Steve is definitely thicker.

After you get fully seated on him, you take a minute to adjust. It only takes a few seconds. You turn your head towards Ransom. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He removes his right hand from your shoulder and grabs the base of his cock and starts pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He’d been in there a lot over the weekend. But it was still a tight fit regardless. He doesn’t go as slow and sheaths himself to the hilt, causing you to moan out in slight pain and pleasure.

Holy fuck. You feel so full. You think you might die. That is until Ransom removes his cock until just the tip remains and then forcefully thrust back in, causing you to grind on Steve’s dick.

Steve grunts out from the movement and starts thrusting up into you the best he can from his position. Ransom wraps his left arm around you and continues his thrusts, not letting up his pace. You don’t even really have to move, the both of them doing it for you. They somehow find the perfect rhythm. Each of them pulling out and pushing in at the same time. One of your hands is behind you, resting on the back of Ransom’s head while the other is resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve sits up suddenly and pulls you in for a kiss. “Like being stuffed with both of our cocks, pretty girl?” You hear from behind you. “Yes. So good. So full. Gonna cum.”

Ransom removes his arm from around you and reaches down and starts circling your clit. “Do it. Cum all over us. Make a mess.”

Steve can feel you squeezing him. “Please, sweetheart. Need to feel you cum on my cock. You’re gripping me so good.”

You explode. You clamp your eyes shut, seeing stars behind your eyelids. You let the both of them fuck you through it.

Ransom’s hips stutter. The fluttering around his cock is too good. He cums with a shout of your name, filling up your ass to the brim. He gives you a few more thrusts before he pulls out and collapses beside you two.

Steve’s been patient while you come down from your high. He lays back down, pulling you with him so that your chest to chest. He bends his knees and grabs onto your hips. “You ready, sweetheart?” You raise up, both of your hands on each side of his head. You give him a nod.

That’s all he needs. He starts fucking you, hard and fast, chasing his release. He can feel it building. He just needs to feel you come undone around him again. He moves one of his hands and starts circling your clit with his thumb. “Need you to cum for me again, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Can’t. Too much.”

Ransom sits up beside you. “I know what she needs.” He reaches over with his left hand and wraps it around your throat, squeezing gently.

It makes you clench down on Steve’s cock. “Yeah? That all you needed, sweetheart? A hand wrapped around your pretty throat? I know you like it. Can feel you squeezing me.” He picks up his pace. The only sounds that can be heard are his grunts, your breathy monas, and skin slapping against skin.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to hit you. This one is somehow even more intense than the last.

You must’ve blacked out for a few seconds because the next thing you know, you’re waking up in between Steve and Ransom.

Steve smiles down at you. “There she is. We lost you for a second, sweetheart.”

You feel drunk. You smile goofily up at him. “Did you cum?”

Just as you ask that, you can feel his release seeping out of your overused cunt. Then you feel cum leaking out of your ass. You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Ransom removes one hand while Steve removes the other. “Nuh uh uh. No hiding allowed, pretty girl. I have no regrets.” He looks at Steve. “Do you?”

Steve smiles down at you and leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “None from me. You tired, sweetheart?”

You let out a big yawn and nod your head, slowly closing your eyes. “Get some rest, pretty girl.” That’s the last thing you hear before sleep takes you.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You wake up sometime in the early morning, stretching out your sore limbs. You know you have a dumb smile on your face. But you can’t help but notice your empty bed.

You sit up and hiss at the deliciously sore feeling between your legs. You grab your robe and slip it on. You can smell coffee coming from the kitchen. You giddily make your way out of the room and down the hallway. They both barely just come into view, still unaware you’re there, when you hear Steve speak.

“I thought you were going to be an asshole to her? Make her see I’m not that bad.”

You hear Ransom next. “I was an asshole to her. I’m sorry I dicked her down so good that she wanted more.”

Steve scoffs. “I never gave you the okay to fuck her!”

“You also didn’t tell me it was off limits. Look you got what you wanted right?”

“No, actually I didn’t. I didn’t pay you so we could have a threesome together.”

What the fuck? Steve paid Ransom to help him get in your pants?

“Ok, how about this? I’ll give you all of your money back if I can fuck her one more time before I go? Then we’ll be squared away.”

Steve seems to be conflicted. “Fine! But this is the last time Ransom. I have to get to work anyway. After this, she’s mine. And make sure she’s not late for work herself.”

Before you have time to react, Steve rounds the corner and sees you standing there. He has a deer caught in headlights look. Ransom comes up beside him and sees you. “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

You slowly start backing up towards your bedroom. Steve moves towards you, stopping once you put your hands up. “Stay away from me! Both of you! I want nothing to do with either of you!”

Ransom moves past Steve and grabs onto your arms. “Oh, please. You’d fuck us again if we wanted. Wouldn’t you?”

You spit in his face. “Fuck you, Hugh.”

He gets a sinister look on his face. “Wrong move, pretty girl.” He looks toward Steve. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck the brat out of her. You better tell her boss she won’t be in today.”

Your eyes go wide at his words. You start thrashing against him, trying your best to get away. Steve has had enough. He comes over and yanks you away from him and presses you against the wall. “You better calm down, sweetheart. I’ll treat you like a princess if you can be my good girl. Can you do that?”

You shake your head. “Why would you think I’d want anything to do with you after finding out you paid someone to help get into my pants?”

He gives you an evil smirk. “Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to release the tape of last night on the internet. Let everyone see how much of a slut you actually are.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re bluffing.”

He smirks and turns his head towards Ransom. “Show her.”

Ransom gets his phone out of his pocket and swipes at the screen for a second before turning it in your direction.

Holy shit. They weren’t bluffing. There you were, getting fucked by the both of them. That would ruin you if it got out. Not only would you get fired, but your parents would probably disown you. You’d never have a normal relationship again. You’re fucked. Even more than you were last night. How had you not noticed they were recording it?

Ransom must have read your mind. “I set my phone up while you were busy with Steve’s fingers on your cunt and his tongue down your throat. I think you need to ask her again Steve.”

Steve grabs your chin and moves your gaze onto his face. “I’ll ask you again. Are you going to be my good girl? Let Ransom fuck you one more time and then it’ll just be me and you?”

You drop your gaze to the floor. You feel a tear run down your cheek as you whisper out, “I’ll be your good girl.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @lllols @patzammit​ @quxxnxfhxll​

Steve Taglist: @donutloverxo​

[morgana-ren]

SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom? 

Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.

Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.

There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.

Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.

All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.

Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.

He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.

So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.

Great.

True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.

His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that. 

So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.

So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then? 

Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.

Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track. 

So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him. 

Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?

You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.

Strangely though, you don’t run off.

If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.

Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.

It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.

Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.

You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He’s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.

He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.

Except he forgets one crucial detail-

The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves. 

You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.

It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.

You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up. 

All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.

It makes him smile.

His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right. 

lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass

KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.

Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot

KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face

st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol

Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.

He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.

‘Here, you decide then.’

Thus the shitstorm begins. 

st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao

lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u

Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already

VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch

lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol 

VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?

Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all

VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move? 

Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will 

lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do

VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up

Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself

It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?

Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.

Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.

But you don’t. 

This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.

 ‘Maybe I will.’ 

That’s how it starts. 

Snowball into snowstorm.

With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.

Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.

So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties. 

The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?

He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils. 

Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now. 

He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.

The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.

Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.

It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.

He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-

Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-

He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties. 

“Shit-” 

Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.

He thinks so.

Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.

With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?

Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.

There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.

He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.

Speak of the she-devil.

“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!” “N-”  He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you.  “Yeah- yeah, sure.” 

He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.

“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“

Yeah you will.

Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.

You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.

He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.

“Oh- okay, yeah-“

Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.

“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.

“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”

“Oh, take your time. No rush.” 

You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.

He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.

And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.

Oh, this should be fun.

[phiralovesloki]

This is a stellar post, but I really, REALLY want to talk about rapid tests.

(I'm a cell biologist and biology educator, and this post is based on my own understanding of COVID testing. I do not work in healthcare, I'm sure that there are exceptions to some of what I'm talking about here, and I'll bet that I'm oversimplifying. However, anything you can find fault with here is nothing in comparison to some of the bizarre bs I've seen people think is true about COVID testing.)

One thing I've seen a LOT of due to rampant misinformation and lack of scientific literacy in the general population is a complete misunderstanding of rapid tests. It's been wild.

The way that rapid tests work, in the simplest terms:

When you have COVID, your infected cells are used by the virus to replicate the heck out of the virus, including all of its bits and bobs. This includes all of the surface proteins and lipids (fats), which I know most people are familiar with because of the ubiquity of images like this one from the UN:

Eventually, the viral particles inside of the infected cell will lyse (burst open) the cell, killing it and releasing more virus to infect more of your cells and, of course, get sneezed or coughed out of you in order to infect other people.

A rapid COVID test can detect some of the surface molecules from the virus. One of the pieces of news you may have missed is that some rapid tests are better at detecting certain variants than other tests are. Like OP said, their infection was not detected by every brand of test they tried. So depending on the particular strain you have, and the particular test you have, you might be dealing with a situation where none of the surface proteins of your particular infection are going to be picked up particularly well by your particular test.

And if you don't have a lot of cells lysing, releasing the virus, and the virus particles are just hanging out in your cells, you might not detect it with a rapid test. And if the majority of your infected cells aren't in, say, the first itty bitty region of your nasal passages, then you might not detect it with a rapid test.

Essentially, to get a positive rapid test when you have COVID--

You need to properly perform your rapid test by swabbing for a long enough period of time at the right depth in your nose, with the right technique, and then add the sample to the buffer properly

You need to have infected cells in that part of your nose

Those infected cells need to be at the stage where they're beginning to lyse to release the virus (and therefore the surface junk that the test can detect)

You need to be using a test that works well to detect whichever strain you have

And you need enough sample to be detected

One of the reasons why false negatives are so much less common with a PCR test is that a PCR test is not detecting how much viral protein is in your nose. Instead of asking how much protein exists (which depends on a lot of factors, particularly how long you've been infected and what stage of the infection you're at), a PCR test is asking a yes or no question: is there any viral genetic material* in ya nose? Because if there is any, even a teeny amount, PCR can amplify it. That's what PCR does. Zero times anything is zero, so if you don't have COVID, there won't be any viral genetic material to amplify. But if there's a tiny amount, then PCR will exponentially amplify it so you can see that yes, it's there!

But a rapid test doesn't amplify anything, so it's not asking a qualitative question ("Is there any virus in my nose?"). It's asking a quantitative one ("How much virus is in my nose?"), and it's very easy for the answer to be, "Not enough to show up right now."

The viral genetic material can remain in your body for a long enough time that you can test positive on a PCR test well after you've recovered and are no longer contagious. However, a rapid test will not continue to be positive unless you've got cells actively infected with the virus shitting out lots of viral particulars to be detected by the rapid test. So if you're testing positive on a rapid test, you could still get people sick because your infected cells are actively producing more virus.

Finally, I like to tell people that rapid COVID tests are essentially the same as home pregnancy tests in terms of false results. It's incredibly easy to get false negatives on home pregnancy tests when you're early in a pregnancy. That's because, similar to COVID rapid tests, home pregnancy tests aren't actually asking a yes or no question ("Are you pregnant?"), but instead are asking a quantitative one ("How much of this one specific hormone have you got in your pee?"). Anything from being too early in your pregnancy, to diluting your urine too much from drinking a shitload of fluids (Looking at you, popular quirky film Juno), to not getting enough pee on the stick will give you a false negative.

Meanwhile, false positives are super rare (which I had to explain to my mother, who did not believe I was pregnant until her colleague explained that actually home pregnancy tests are exponentially more accurate than they were in the 80s when she was having kids). If you have a positive test, it's almost invariably because you have enough hormone in your pee, as a result of being pregnant, to react with the test.**

COVID rapid tests work the same way. A positive test means that you almost definitely have COVID, whereas a negative test could mean that you don't have COVID ... or that you DO have it, but that for whatever reason, it's not showing up on the test.

All this to say:

If you have COVID symptoms and a negative rapid test, assume you have COVID unless you have a negative PCR test as well

If you've had COVID and are still testing positive on a rapid test, you are probably still contagious and should act like it

All of the info about how long you need to isolate for is absolute bullshit capitalist propaganda, and if you CAN isolate until you're testing negative, please do so. COVID doesn't "know" that you "aren't supposed to be contagious" after 5 days.

If you DEFINITELY don't have COVID, but you're sick, please still behave with compassion and thoughtfulness for other people. For many of us, a "little cold" can be ruinous.***

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk, etc. And sorry, OP, for rambling on!

*I'm being a little annoying here because while SARS-CoV2 is an RNA virus (its genetic material is RNA), PCR only works to amplify DNA. So you have to reverse transcribe (make a DNA copy of) all present RNA, and then amplify that DNA. It's fun.

**I've actually gotten a false positive on a home pregnancy test! It was because I had suffered a miscarriage, and my partner and I resumed trying to conceive before waiting for me to have my next period. So when my next period was late, I thought, "Ooh!" and sure enough, positive test! Except it was because my body was winding down hormone production from the non-viable pregnancy. Oops!

***My kids miss so much fucking school because other kids have parents who send them to school sick, and I'm not that kind of parent. My youngest has reactive airway disease (asthma when you're too little to be diagnosed with asthma) and we have been to the ER at least once every fall since he was 1 year old because of how sick he can get from "a little cold, totally mild." It's awful.

Things I've learned from getting covid for the first time in 2023

I wear an N95 in public spaces and I've managed to dodge it for a long time, but I finally got covid for the first time (to my knowledge) in mid-late November 2023. It was a weird experience especially because I feel like it used to be something everyone was talking about and sharing info on, so getting it for the first time now (when people generally seem averse to talking about covid) I found I needed to seek out a lot of info because I wasn't sure what to do. I put so much effort into prevention, I knew less about what to do when you have it. I'm experiencing a rebound right now so I'm currently isolating. So, I'm making a post in the hopes that if you get covid (it's pretty goddamn hard to avoid right now) this info will be helpful for you. It's a couple things I already knew and several things I learned. One part of it is based on my experience in Minnesota but some other states may have similar programs.

--------

The World Health Organization states you should isolate for 10 days from first having symptoms plus 3 days after the end of symptoms.

--------

At the time of my writing this post, in Minnesota, we have a test to treat program where you can call, report the result of your rapid test (no photo necessary) and be prescribed paxlovid over the phone to pick up from your pharmacy or have delivered to you. It is free and you do not need to have insurance. I found it by googling "Minnesota Test to Treat Covid"

--------

Paxlovid decreases the risk of hospitalization and death, but it's also been shown to decrease the risk of Long Covid. Long Covid can occur even from mild or asymptomatic infections.

--------

Covid rebound commonly occurs 2-8 days after apparent recovery. While many people associate Paxlovid with covid rebound, researchers say there is no strong evidence that Paxlovid causes covid rebound, and rebounds occur in infections that were not treated with Paxlovid as well. I knew rebounds could happen but did not know it could take 8 days. I had mine on day 7 and was completely surprised by it.

--------

If you start experiencing new symptoms or test positive again, the CDC states that you should start your isolation period again at day zero. Covid rebound is still contagious. Personally I'd suggest wearing a high quality respirator around folks for an additional 8-9 days after you start to test negative in case of a rebound.

--------

Positive results on a rapid test can be very faint, but even a very faint line is positive result. Make sure to look at your rapid test result under strong lighting. Also, false negatives are not uncommon. If you have symptoms but test negative taking multiple tests and trying different brands if you have them are not bad ideas. My ihealth tests picked up my covid, my binax now tests did not.

EDIT: Just remembered another helpful resource for I used and should add, The People's CDC had a link to this directory for the National Alliance on Mental Health Warmline - it's like a confidential hotline for emotional support, so you can call if you're in emotional/mental distress. Can vouch that the person I talked to on the MN warmline was lovely. Can be particularly helpful if you're in isolation and need support.

--------

I know that there is so much we can't control as individuals right now, and that's frightening. All we can do is try our best to reduce harm and to care for each other. I hope this info will be able to help folks.

[antiterf]

(Prefacing this to say that I'm not trying to convince you to move from neutral to pro transandrophobia- i think you being neutral is ur right and I can definitely understand why you are neutral. Just wanted to state my own perspective as a trans man, esp. As a trans man of color. Feel free to delete if necessary!)

I'm personally pro transandrophobia as a term because just as Trans Women have unique experiences due to their intersection of being Women and being Trans, and Black Trans Women experience a particularly unique blend of issues due to being Women who are Trans and black, Trans men also face a unique set of issues. Of course these issues can vary depending on where Trans men live, what their race is, how well they pass (as BS as passing is as a concept)and other factors, but so too might a Trans Woman's experience of transmisogyny/transmisogynoir vary based on similar criteria. Until recently, I've felt that there has been a major lack in information/discussion of transmasc specific issues, especially as a black Trans man. I've always felt like the specific intersection of transness and agab of transmasculinity causes unique issues combining misogyny and transphobia that isn't the same as transmisogyny. On top of that, Trans men of color like myself have the added issue of racism, adding to the bigotry stew we face. imho there just hasn't been adequate language to describe these issues until the introduction of transmisandry followed by the (more apt imo) term transandrophobia. I feel like this term adds to the toolkit we need to break down the systemic and societal issues we face. Ofc this is just my personal perspective, but I feel like the transphobia, misogyny, racism, and homophobia I face varies greatly from the same issues others face due to my identity, and I feel like discussing transandrophobia helps Bring light to how differently Trans men may be affected by these issues.

I'm not sure if I'm making sense, and apologies if my thoughts are all over the place, but hopefully this adds a perspective that others can see and take into account in the conversation surrounding transandrophobia...

I felt the same with lack of discussion around the issues trans men face. And I've thought about how I can make many shallow excuses, but overall I think I simply don't know enough about what's going on to speak on it.

I'm only 21, and what you get from everyday interaction with other trans people in activist spaces when learning about 20+ years ago in written history is limited if not non existent. Much of it focuses on a broad view that would be put through the individual lens of the historian or the person recording it, and there aren't many of those people. Basically, I can't relate to what I've learned of queer history back to this because the most queer history we have with trans men is "look, a trans man, or a possible one" and nothing about theories or activism from other trans people. This also applies heavily to trans women. So what we end up with is a cisnormative lens of what gender and how one gender is oppressive against the other, without much solidly believed theory from actual trans people.

This is part of what transandrophobia does. Its taking the issues of being men and having masculinity, but not as what we expect in a cisgender world, and the struggles that come with it. This can possibly applied to men in other minorities, like Black men or in my case disabled men, but much of that I've seen is surface level ("oh, look how masculinity hurts these groups in different ways" rather than "so how about we theorize how we see structural gendered oppression through this"), and that would be my responsibility to find out more for comparison about how this can work out.

I think transandrophobia has potential to finally take "but what about men?" And actually make it productive in the examination of gender rather than anti feminist nonsense. But what it seems to do as of currently is focus on the inner LGBTQ+ community more than anything, especially trans women for some fucking reason (transmisogyny, blaming them for hypervisibility), rather than the cisnormative societies that mainly hurt us.

Like, the other day in the gay trans men being called fujoshis post, someone added these tags. I never mentioned trans women once. I've always focused more on the experiences of trans men because I am one, but the fact that I talk about it now and shade is thrown at trans women is incredibly worrying.

And what I said there is probably inaccurate because right now it's so new and there hasn't been a common ground established. Everyone that is loud about it, either for or against, are automatically biased and will show extreme negatives with each group. I don't know how the community is doing as a whole, what's going on as a whole, and do it reliably. That coupled with a lack of history doesn't sit well.

And I kind of wrote that rant because its really not because I don't see the use of transandrophobia, and I think it can be important especially with trans moc or honestly any of us who have intersecting minority statuses. I genuinely hope it can carry on to be critically looked at and discussed. But right now it's just chaos and please don't compare it to transmisogyny because thats on the basis of intersectionality, and transandrophobia would not fit under that same concept.

If something clicks from the research I do either in school or my free time I'll definitely talk about it.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (March 16/2021) - Worst Day

“May the best day of your past be the worst day of your future.”

—-

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tubbo

Ranboo

Quackity

Badboyhalo

Captain Puffy

—-

- Foolish continues work on the mansion.

- Ranboo goes mining and talks about his ARG plans while getting chat to gamble. It’s the calm before the storm.

---

WORST DAY.

---

- Quackity’s stream opens with a shot of Schlatt’s Grave. The sound of a chest opening can be heard.

“Alex...you know, you and I? You know I wouldn’t do anything disadvantageous...”

-

Chapter One.

-

- Quackity climbs up to the roof of Punz’s tower, where he comes face to face with Bad.

Bad: "You keep getting in my way, Quackity...”

- Quackity asks why Bad brought him up here. He tells Bad he’s just an asset to the Egg. Bad replies that he’s not just an asset -- he’s serving a purpose Quackity could never understand.

Bad: “You call it the Egg...that’s just the surface. That’s just what you think it is. It is so much more than that. It is something you cannot even comprehend.”

- Quackity asks if all Bad is is an “asset to power.”

Quackity: “You don’t know what power is, Bad, then that’s your issue. That’s why I’m getting in your way. It’s ‘cause I know the ins and outs of business, I know the ins and outs of power. And I’m sorry that’s something you’re never gonna understand yourself.”

- Quackity tells Bad to not waste his time. Bad replies that he called Quackity to tell him to stay out of his way.

- Quackity then says he can show Bad what he’s been working on: real power.

- A cutscene shows Quackity and Bad riding off into the distance, making their way to:

Las Nevadas.

-

Chapter Two.

-

- At his cow farm, Quackity finds a book in the chest, wondering who put it there. It gives instructions to follow a railway track above.

“You had the fattest ass in my cabinet.”

- Quackity follows the line down into a cave where Glatt is waiting for him. It’s...a gym? The Big Man Gym.

- Austin from Austinshow is a dead guy with Glatt.

- He can’t go upstairs or else his skin starts falling off, so he stays down in the gym with his dad.

- Wilbur goes to the gym every day in his beanie.

- Tommy also came down to the gym.

- The dead all come down to the gym to lift weights.

- Quackity asks who else is up there. Glatt says he just wants to reconnect with Quackity.

- Glatt has apparently been learning Spanish.

- Mexican Dream also comes down to the gym. Neither Quackity nor Glatt know who he is and Quackity asks if Dream’s been visiting. He hasn’t helped Glatt learn Spanish.

- Quackity tells Glatt he hates seeing him, so he’ll give him five minutes.

- Glatt gives Quackity a preposition: He wants to escape the confines of the gym and wants to be revived. He knows of a thing that exists that could help him: a book.

- The green guy who comes down to the gym sometimes has this book.

- Quackity tells Glatt he has a business venture, and is willing to offer him a bet: 

If Quackity loses, he goes to Dream and gets the revive book and gives it to Glatt to use. If Quackity wins, Glatt never gets revived and works for Quackity forever.

They agree on the bet and start walking, Quackity asking Glatt about his other adventures...

-

Chapter Three.

-

- It’s raining. Quackity is standing outside Bee ‘n’ Boo as Sam walks up to him. He apologizes for calling Sam in on short notice.

- They head into the Big Innit Hotel, and Quackity tells Sam it’s time for him to visit Dream.

- Sam is hesitant. The last visit didn’t go well. 

- Quackity says that there are issues with the prison, and that’s that Tommy died in there, and as Sam’s business partner, he wants to know Sam is reliable.

- Sam replies that his job isn’t to keep the visitors alive, but to keep Dream there.

- Quackity asks, even though Sam has Dream locked up, what stopped him from killing Tommy? Nothing.

Quackity: “He has power, Sam. He still has power. Why haven’t we killed him?”

Sam: “We can’t kill him, Quackity, he’s the only one who can bring people back to life. It’s the whole reason we put him in the prison in the first place.”

- Quackity suggests, then, that they go in, take the book from Dream and then they won’t need Dream anymore.

- Sam points out that he’ll refuse to give anyone the book, since Dream knows that’s the only reason they’re keeping him alive.

- Quackity asks that he at least be allowed to try. 

- Sam says it’s not that he doesn’t trust Quackity, it’s that he doesn’t trust Dream. But, as Quackity points out, that’s the safety issue.

- Sam still doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Quackity starts backing away from the hotel slowly.

Quackity: “So how am I supposed to rely on you for any business opportunities, when you won’t even grant me one simple visit?”

Sam: “What is that supposed to -- I assume you’ve seen the work Awesamdude Constructions has done in Las Nevadas?”

Quackity: “Yeah, but Sam, that’s...You’re good at what you do, you’re just not cooperating though. That’s what I need from a business partner, cooperation.”

- Quackity has an idea. He places two item frames on the wall with an axe and a sword and asks to bring them in with him. That’s all he needs to get the last bit of power Dream has.

- Sam is still doubting, but Quackity brings up Tommy’s death, asking if Sam is going to let Dream get away with it. He assures Sam that he won’t kill Dream, just talk with him.

Quackity: “Sam, there’s an underlying safety issue, he killed Tommy. Do you really have any control of him right now? Is there any control you have over him right now, Sam? I can fix that, I can fix that! All you gotta do is let me in and bring these two in.”

- Quackity assures Sam that he knows what he’s doing and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get that book.

- Sam finally agrees, and they walk over to Pandora’s Vault. They enter the prison and Sam asks Quackity the entry questions:

“When’s the last time you visited the prison?”

“This is my first time. I’ve never visited the prison before.”

“Where is your place of residence located?”

“Las Nevadas.”

“Do you believe the prisoner deserves to be locked up?”

“No doubt about it, of course I do.”

“What are all your prior relations with the prisoner?”

“We don’t get along, I’ll leave it at that.”

- Quackity seals the waiver book without signing it.

- They go through the security measures and Quackity does the same with the other waivers.

- They make it to the lava wall. Sam gives Quackity some food.

Sam: “The tools you have are whatever, but...if you’re gonna do this Big Q, do it right.”

- Sam throws Quackity shears, Warden’s Will, Warden’s Hammer and some item frames. He tells Quackity to not hold anything in his hand.

- The lava lowers, Quackity crosses on the bridge and comes face to face with Dream.

- Quackity asks Dream how it feels to be in there. Must feel bad.

- He brings up what Dream did to Tommy. Dream asks what people think about it. Did they think it was cool? What were they saying?

Quackity: “What matters is the very concept of it. You have a book that can bring people back.”

Dream: “And now people will believe me!”

Quackity: “Yeah...I know you have that book, Dream. Everyone at this point knows you have that book.”

Dream: “Yeah! That’s good!”

Quackity: “I mean, depends on the eyes of who you see it.”

Dream: “Well, I mean...it’s good for me.”

- Quackity tells Dream that he wants -- needs the book.

- Dream tells him that he burnt the book. Now it’s just knowledge in his head.

Dream: “I’m the book.”

- Quackity asks him to tell him what he knows, or else. He puts up the item frames on the wall and puts Warden’s Will in one of them.

Dream: “How did you -- “

Quackity: “I’m asking the nice way, Dream, and you didn’t want to tell me.”

Dream: “You’re not gonna kill me.”

Quackity: “I”m not gonna kill you, but --”

Dream: “SAM!”

Quackity: “I’m gonna make your last days in this fucking prison hell, Dream.”

Dream: “SAM! HOW DID YOU -- “

Quackity: “Don’t fucking touch me man, alright? It’s simple, Dream, alright? You’re gonna tell me all the knowledge you have in that fuckin’ book or I’m gonna come here every. Single. Fucking. Day. To make your life hell. That is exactly what I’m gonna fucking do, and I”m gonna stick to it until you give me that fucking book.”

Dream: “I’m not gonna tell you anything!”

Quackity: “You have no other choice. If you want me here every fucking day, then you’re gonna give me the fucking knowledge on the book. I’m not fucking around, Dream, you’re gonna tell me!”

Dream: “SAM!”

Quackity: “You can scream for Sam all you want, Dream.”

Dream: “How -- there’s no way -- How did you sneak it in?!”

Quackity: “Alright, alright, you know what? There’s been enough talking. There’s been enough talking, Dream. You’re gonna tell me, or we’re gonna do this the fucking hard way for as long as we need to do it.”

- The screen fades to black.

- Quackity walks to the El Rapids poster, his clothes splattered with blood. One by one, he takes down the faces of Sapnap, George and Karl. He leaves his intact.

- As Quackity goes to the peak of El Rapids and begins to take it apart, voices can be heard in the background.

...

Quackity: “This means nothing, George, this means nothing in comparison...to a challenge to power.”

“At the end of the day, what this is is a new beginning, okay? This is a new beginning for the country El Rapids. Ready? Let’s just hit each other at the same time, ready?”

“Three...”

“Two...”

“One...”

“Yeah!”

Sapnap: “I wanna fight Dream.”

Quackity: “Step by step, Sapnap, step by step. We’ll get there someday.”

Ghostbur: “What is Mexican L’manburg?”

Quackity: “Mexican L’manburg was a little place we made next to L’manburg, to kind of commemorate...”

“It’s time to say goodbye and rename it to El Rapids, baby! Have you heard of Cedar Rapids, Ghostbur?”

Ghostbur: “Yes, I’m just chilling there! Most of the time.”

Quackity: “YES!”

...

- Quackity removes his face from the picture.

- There’s a final shot of Quackity from the back, looking at the picture...

It cuts to live-action as Quackity crumples the shot into paper, puts down a whiteboard calendar with all the days marked “Visit Dream,” crosses off the first and throws his briefcase down, spilling its contents of poker chips and a pair of scissors.

- End of stream.

---

- Bad gets a pet horse named Pebbles! 

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[terrence-silver]

Please do a dialogue reenactment of Terry in a therapy session.

-"Tell about your co-dependence to this --"-

-"John Kreese."- Terry finishes his Therapist's sentence instead of them, already knowing fully well who this was about. The name like a well-known vintage on his tongue. -"Captain John Kreese."- He adds after a mere second, straightening out in his seat, with a sense of dignity and poise, his posture immaculate, feeling his own voice stiffen as he observes his Therapist take a note (Terry wonders what they scribbled down), the light peeking through the shutters of the high end, glossy office casting a long, dark shadow over their face as they perk up, looking at him. -"Tell me about your co-dependence to ---"- They begin again, mechanically. Terry didn't like that phrase. Co-dependence. It didn't sit right with him. Felt like it entirely stripped him of his agency and made it seem like he was controlled by psychological factors, mental factors, trauma and literally everything under the sun except his own choice to care for someone because he merely did. To be devoted for the sake of devotion.

It was some new age bullshit.

-"It's not co-dependence. That oversimplifies the issue. Banalizes it."- Terry cuts them and their strawman argument off, impatient, tobacco smoke in a nearby ashtray --- he was allowed to smoke in here, but then again, Terry never asked for permission considering the hourly rate of these meetings, even though he did plan on quitting, purely as an act of self-control. Johnny has been a frequent topic of debate on his seances for months now, actually. So was Vietnam. He approached the issues with the spirit of debate. One could say Terry came here to argue, at times. He came here to argue his point. He wasn't about to allow to be convinced of anything he didn't wish to be convinced of on his own accord. -"So, what would you label it as, if you could?"- The Therapist applies a gentle tone, lulling, trusting, sometimes verging on the edge of motherly understanding and fatherly firmness where Terry forgot their gender and merely saw them as a confidante. A chameleon and a snake with a diploma, he reminds himself. Just like yourself.

-"I label him as a friend. The person I love most in life. Which is what he is."-

Terry inhales his cigar, a cloud of smoke in his nostrils.

-"Ever had one of those?"- He quips and smiles, prodding at his therapist. They reminded him of Margaret, rest her soul, in a strange sense. Maybe that's why he chose them in particular? A visceral need to be connected to the past --- the people he once felt pleasant around, now only a distant memory. Yet, his Therapist? They were so fun to tease. Much like Ms. Spencer was. Less intelligent, though. -"I'm not the subject of debate here, Mr. Silver. Please, stay on track. You've been making such remarkable progress in communication."- They tap their pen on the surface of their notebook, chiding and he has to chuckle. He remembers his first session here. How tense it was in comparison. -"Do you think friendship and love can be co-dependent? That its prime foundation lies on trauma bonding?"- They ask --- the million dollar question. Here it goes. The unavoidable, inexhaustible topic that highlighted Terry's entire existence. -"We were in Vietnam. Of course there was trauma involved!"- Terry snorts, matter-of-factly, playing and tinkering with the signet ring on his pinkie finger. He often felt people fundamentally misunderstood military friendships. When you have another man guarding your back to ensure you don't get killed, it is a camaraderie baptized in blood. One needs to be, co-dependent, as they say, to survive, like a pack animal would be to the leader.

Individualism ensures the jungle will swallow you up whole.

There's only a unit out in the wild; there's no mean and you. There's us.

-"We weren't exactly going door to door selling boy scout cookies in Saigon!"-

Terry has to remark, tilting his head and leaning back into the leather recliner of his armchair. The Therapist was in their fifties while Terry himself was in his late fifties, merely some odd several years older. Age fifty nine, to be precise. He intentionally chose someone older, because he felt a younger person wouldn't understand him and he had no intention be understood by a freshly graduated Ivy League infant who's own parents probably weren't even born when Vietnam happened or they were off smoking pot out of a van by a roadside somewhere while Terry and John were knee deep in monsoon mud, piss and shit --- he needed to clear the generational gap and speak to someone vaguely similar, but at times, Terry still didn't feel understood. They've never been to war. Connections bloom, like a flower of carnage, on the battlefield, but they're no less worthy for it. -"Do you feel that due to the extreme setting of the place where this friendship took place led to the connection between you and John Kreese to be inherently extreme as well?"- The Therapist affixes their glasses, pushing their frame up against the nose bridge. -"Define extreme?"- Terry has to demand, careful of not falling for verbal traps. -"Volatile. Unhinged."- They list off their addendum. -"Yes."- Terry confirms, flat-out. He wasn't even going to deny it.

Extreme situations require extreme measures.

Terry's whole life was one big extreme situation after the other.

-"I'd kill for that man."- He leans forward in his chair, meeting the Therapist's gaze.

-"Even on meds. Even on prescriptions. Even on a new diet."- The confession doesn't fall because it is unplanned or because he blurts it out by accident. Those words are deliberate. Poignant. Intentional. His therapist ceases scribbling momentarily. They merely sit there in silence together. -"Even with the added baggage of his disappearance and thirty year absence?"- They ask. Yes. He's told them all about that and the tournament loss of '85. In arduous detail. -"Even then. Especially then."- Terry doesn't hesitate with opening the subject of his murderous tendencies. There's nothing to hesitate about. He's been taking his pills for over a decade now and still felt the same. The chemistry in his brain didn't budge an inch where his feelings were concerned --- they were merely dormant, it seemed. -"Do you feel like you owe him this unprecedented loyalty? Due to what happened in the POW camp? Him saving your life?"- Their voice is once more, oddly soft. He always figured they applied this softness when they wanted to get things out of him. Encourage him to open up. -"I want to owe him."- Terry crosses his legs, telling them something they didn't seem to expect by the look on their face as he places special emphasis on the word want. Terry did want to. He gave a promise; For everything you need. All your life. Always. He meant that shit. -"Why do you feel that is?"-

-"I know this is hard to believe,"- Terry chuckles, crushing the cigar in the ashtray.

-"But, I've a sense of honor."-

-"Do you ever feel burdened? By your own sense of honor?"- Their gazes meet again. The Therapist knows of his particular reputation, albeit he washed and curated it extensively since the 80's and 90's. They know who he is. What he dabbled in. How many run-ins he had with the law. They know of Dynatox. His past. His character. His everything. He's bragged about it, perversely, hoping to shock and throw them off. There's no judgment, though. When he brings up honor, no. Just a quiet, professional acceptance. -"Do you ever wish you could simply place the load down? Be free?"- For the first time, there's a question that hits Terry, ramming his senses like a fist to the ribs. Be free? And do what, exactly? Find meaning in what? He had the whole world on a silver platter, the best of food, liquor, mansions, private chefs, a staff, suits, cars, the company of handpicked airheaded wannabe tokens making him seem digestible and grounded, he travelled the whole world ten times over, but if he removed his own substance, the slippery thing inside of him, Terry was as good as dead --- merely a reanimated carcass sifting through the motions. Loyalty and devotion were his substance. -"No."- He answers, looking out the window and the subsequent fenced off garden in his view, the residue tobacco smoke heavy and pungent in the air, making the room appear hazy. Terry's mind was crystal clear, though. -"I wish I had two lifetimes more to do the same things I always did."-

[five-rivers]

Loved chapter 4

Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 3: Portal, even though the connection is sort of tenuous.

.

Bad things happened when Vlad came to Amity Park. For that matter, bad things happened wherever Vlad was. It was part of what made Vlad Vlad. Some part of his otherness, some twist of the shadow-fabric he was made of that left rot and ruin wherever his hem brushed. Of course, Vlad was never affected by this misfortune. In fact, he seemed to suck the luck out of everyone around him. Like a vampire.

Along with sanity. But that was a given for the others, even partial others, like Vlad. Or Danny.

But Vlad didn’t even try to hide or ameliorate the effects he had on people, didn’t try to keep them safe, to make their lives shine like the precious lights they were.

(Danny drummed his fingers on his chest and wondered, if, perhaps, it would feel less empty if Clockwork let him become a jewel box.)

But that was the way Vlad was, and Danny felt him enter Amity Park like nails on a chalkboard. His skin started to itch. His teeth hurt. Pressure pulsed in his head like waves of heat coming off asphalt. Being human, being real, was too tight, too heavy. It would be so easy to slip into the cool waters of the Dream and cut through them to wherever Vlad was.

No. He couldn’t. As shown time and time again, that would just exacerbate things. No matter what Vlad did, it would be worse if they fought, especially if there was anyone there to see it. Like what had happened with Jazz…

Danny was beyond lucky he’d been able to snap her out of whatever Vlad had done to her, but she still was quite right. The Vultures had actually apologized on Vlad’s behalf, after that.

(And wasn’t that strange, standing in the Dream on ground covered by bones and feathers, the Vultures on a dead tree, speaking as one. A thing of terror, apologizing for their ward. For pain suffered through Love. For lines crossed.)

Still. He had better… supervise Vlad, for a lack of a better word. Make sure he wasn’t getting up to anything. He’d go as a human – as himself.

He sighed and splayed his hands out on the table.

“Something wrong?” asked Sam, who had been making a complex sigil out of her fries and ketchup.

“Vlad’s in town,” said Danny. “I—”

The doors to the Nasty Burger were thrown open with a bang as Jazz came running in. She ran halfway through the store, to weak protests from the employee behind the counter, and skidded to a stop in front of their table.

“Vlad’s here,” he said.

“You saw him?” asked Danny, concerned. “Did he try—”

“No,” said Jazz. “I can just—It’s like he’s under my skin, and I—” She made a sound of frustration and gripped both sides of her head with clawed hands.

“Hey,” said Danny, gently, grasping her wrists. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, breathing deeply. “Alright. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“It’s okay,” said Danny. He looked back to his friends. “Anyway, I’m going to go see what he wants, okay?”

“I’m coming with you,” said Sam, standing.

“Me too,” said Tucker. “Sort of. Halfway.”

“You really shouldn’t,” said Danny. “You know what happens when we get together.”

“Which is why we want to back you up,” said Sam. “As long as he stays physical, there’s stuff we can do.”

Unless Danny was prepared to do something incredibly inadvisable, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her. “Okay,” he said. “Just… be careful. If it looks like it’s going to turn into a fight, you need to leave.” He didn’t want them to get anymore spiritually messed up than they already were.

“We know, we know, you give us the spiel every time,” said Sam.

Yes, and Sam ignored it every other time. Danny shook his head. “Alright, let’s—”

Danny was promptly interrupted yet again, this time by his parents rushing in wearing… He could loosely call them clothes.

“It’s retro night, baby!” shouted Jack.

It was not retro night. There was no such thing as retro night at the Nasty Burger.

“I’ll take care of them,” said Jazz.

“Thanks,” muttered Danny, sliding out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go out the back.”

The alley behind the Nasty Burger was fetid in a way that made Danny’s shadow lift from the pavement and float on the air. Something that inhabited rats skittered in the corners at Danny’s presence and ran for a storm drain. He breathed shallowly.

“Which way?” prompted Tucker.

“He’s actually coming this way,” said Danny, frowning, debating facing him in this alley, just to see the disgust that would surely paint itself on Vlad’s face, paper-thin mask that it was.

Reality rippled, the surface tension that kept the Dream from bleeding in snapping. A miasma rose from the ground. Vlad stumbled into the alley, clutching at his face, which was melting. No, transforming. No, stretching. No, layering over itself a in dozen sickening ways, all the masks Vlad wore flickering over whatever truth he had all at once.

“Help me,” he grated. His words felt sick, diseased.

“Guys,” said Danny, fighting back the urge to vomit, “run.”

“No!” shrieked Vlad. “Help me!”

And sanity fractured like glass.

.

Whatever Danny’s parents had done to stabilize Vlad had worked, to a degree. It hadn’t fixed the underlying problem, which Danny could still feel slinking through the Dream. It also didn’t fix whatever he’d done to Sam and Tucker, although it had kept it from progressing further.

Danny took a slow, angry breath and ran a mental count of the lives stored inside his chest. They were there, all of them. Whatever happened to Sam and Tucker, they wouldn’t die.

But Danny knew there were fates worse than death.

His fingernails left half moon impressions on his palms as he clenched his fists. The Dream roiled with his fury, the force of it enough to keep Vlad’s diseased thoughts away.

“Daniel,” croaked Vlad. “Cure me.”

“That’s what Mom and Dad are trying to do.”

“Find a cure for me,” said Vlad, as if he hadn’t heard Danny at all, “and you’ll find a cure for your precious little friends.”

Danny stilled. “You did this on purpose.”

Vlad laughed. “Of course, I did, my dear boy. What value is a simple human mind compared to those such as we?”

Any rage Danny had felt up to this moment paled in comparison. The mirror over the sink cracked down the middle, never to show a true physical reflection again. He hated—

A concerned tug at Danny’s throat jolted him from his thoughts. Clockwork. Clockwork would know what to do. He turned, and without a second glance at Vlad, strode bodily into the Dream.

.

It took Danny even less time than usual to find Clockwork, and, when he did, he immediately found himself at Clockwork’s center, deep within the castle that was his metaphor. Dozens of Chains were fixed to Danny’s collar, each of them completely taut, holding him perfectly immobile, the embrace of a relieved but panicking parent. Clockwork’s emotions, too vast for Danny to fully comprehend, were transmitted directly through those chains, microscopic vibrations raising gooseflesh on Danny’s skin. A wordless noise both distressed and pleased wound its way from Danny’s throat, continuing to echo long after he’d run out of the breath to maintain it.

Clockwork’s avatar cupped Danny’s face in its hands, long fingers almost completely encircling his head. There was more of Clockwork in it that there usually was.

“Clockwork…?” asked Danny, weakly, confused and overwhelmed by the sudden flood of affection.

Poor little one, whispered the avatar, this is what happens when matters are not properly attended to. The Vultures should know better, should take care of him properly… It pressed its forehead to Danny’s, startling a squeak from him.

Danny, reflexively, brought his hands up to clutch at the avatar’s robes.

My poor child. What are they thinking, letting him run around so ill, so that he might infect other children?

Clockwork saw Vlad as a child, too. Not surprising, considering how ancient Clockwork must be, but good to know.

That emotion! It was only a shadow, and even so-!

“Emotion?”

Hatred, hissed Clockwork’s avatar.

The collar around Danny’s neck constricted, a tighter, more Loving, more comforting, hug. Danny gasped, although breathing here was psychological rather than physiological. The cloth of the avatar’s robes began to wind up Danny’s arms.

Even the pale, human shadow of it is not something you should experience, my child.

Danny didn’t like being that angry, but—

Even the concept of it is too much, too heavy. You should not have to bear it. I should not have overlooked it. The avatar’s hands moved to the back of Danny’s head, pressing his face against its shoulder. It must hurt you so,murmured the avatar, carding fingers through Danny’s hair. Fear not. I will excise it. All of it, even the idea of it shall not touch you, shall not sully your thoughts.

The avatar stepped away.

“Wait!” shouted Danny, panicking.

Not being able to hate? Danny had mixed feelings about that, but he doubted he’d be able to talk Clockwork out of it, not with how damaging Hate could be. In the end, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss. Not being able to understand that it existed? Not being aware of hate at all? Being unable to understand that, sometimes, people would go out of their way to hurt one another?

That was dangerous. That would render him unable to even begin to comprehend vast swathes of human history and humanity.

“If I don’t know what it is,” said Danny, “if I don’t know that it exists, how can I protect myself against it?”

A gust of wind blew through Clockwork’s sepulchral hall like the sigh of a giant. It is my duty to protect you, my child.

The sheer possessiveness of the words lingered on Danny’s skin. He wanted to lean into them but held his imaginary breath.

But very well.

Danny let himself relax, slightly, even as the avatar walked to somewhere he couldn’t see, its silent footsteps giving him no clue as to where it was. With only the constant, regular hum and tick of Clockwork’s gears to stimulate him, it was hard for Danny to stay vigilant. He found himself drifting, his thoughts wandering.

Did his hatred of Vlad cause him pain, as Clockwork said? What was it going to be like, to not be able to hate at all, rather than just not being able to Hate? Would he still be angry at Vlad? He hoped so. The man deserved it.

Two points of frigid cold touched the back of his head, contracted into a single point, and pulled. Danny felt something within him come free, and he sagged as much as the chains would allow him.

The avatar walked back into view, and Danny recoiled from the thing he was carrying, clasped in a long, silver pair of tweezers. “Is that,” started Danny, before he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Was that in me?”

Yes, said Clockwork’s avatar, lowering it into a small, jeweled box. Danny felt relieved as soon as the lid closed on it and he was no longer forced to look at it. At the same time… Fear not, said the avatar. I could never destroy something of you. It will be remade into something more useful.

Danny nodded as much as he could and shuddered. He felt… dirty. Unclean. Just remembering what he’d felt, what he’d thought… It left a deep sense of wrongness.

Come, said Clockwork. I have just the thing for that. You are due for a bath. A cleansing, inside and out.

The metaphor of the chains fell away, leaving just the one, usual, slack one. Danny knew Clockwork could call them back at any time, that, in truth, they had not gone anywhere at all.

“What about Vlad?” he asked, twisting his hands around the hem of his shirt. “And my friends? Can you help them? Please.”

He felt Clockwork examine him appraisingly.

Perhaps the bath can wait for another day.

.

The mirror was a portal, tall and wide as a door, glassy surface gleaming with otherworldly light. The edges were crimped, filigreed, flared. Beyond the reflection, Danny could just make out the suggestion of movement.

It is not real, said the avatar, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, but a might-have-been.

“But I can find a way to fix things in there?”

The avatar did not answer. A prickling feeling rose up inside Danny, settling in his stomach. Somehow, this felt similar to when he’d eaten the mirror with the bad future.

It is,confirmed the avatar, briefly nuzzling Danny.

“Why?” asked Danny, just a little horrified.

Is it not satisfying to complete two tasks at once? I told you, back then, that our next task would be to remove those presents that seek to exclude you.

Danny didn’t understand.

You will. Clockwork’s avatar paused, as if thinking. This is what the Vultures should have done for young Vladimir, although they would have accomplished it differently.

“Oh,” said Danny, trying to wrap his head around that.

Clockwork’s avatar nudged him forward. Follow the chain when you are ready to come home.

.

Danny wasn’t connected to anyone in this might-have-been world. It was odd, watching every eye slide off him as if he wasn’t even there. If he wanted to interact with someone directly, he’d have to put a lot of force of will into it.

It was strange. Other than that, everything here seemed perfectly real. Not imaginary at all. The sun shone. People spoke to one another. The grass crunched under his feet.

The University of Wisconsin-Madison lay before him in all its questionable glory.

He’d have to find Vlad and his parents. They had rented a small lab space for their experiments with the Dream and research into the others.

Normally, he’d follow his connection to them to find them, or the disturbance Vlad made in the dream, but neither of those things existed, now. Not yet. Danny didn’t exist yet.

He could just wander, try to seek out questionable lab space, but the university’s campus was large. Normally, he’d ask for directions, but…

Yeah, the no one being able to see or hear him thing really didn’t allow for that.

But there was one other thing he could try to do, one other thing he could try to sense. Their experiments. They should send waves across and through the Dream.

He let his eyes drift closed and walked blind across campus. When he opened them, he was in a lab, watching his parents and Vlad working on a kind of magic circle, inscribed with runes.

A portal, intended to let humans directly access the Dream. A portal that had created Vlad, all because he leaned too close, watched too closely, seen too much, became something else, changed.

Something like anger stirred under his skin. After this, his parents had continued to experiment, continued to try to reach the Dream, to create a weapon against the others, and in doing so both doomed Danny himself and Amity Park by making what amounted to a highway for the others to come to the real world.

But they hadn’t intended to do that, he knew. They’d been trying as best as they could to fix things. Had been trying to defend the world the best they knew, portal or no portal. And speaking of the portal… If others could damage human sanity, if Danny, small and weak and almost-human as he was, could damage human sanity, then how much more could a direct link to the Dream do? Discounting, of course, that normal dreams could lead to the Dream… That connection was more tenuous. Filtered.

His anger was a distraction from what was really bothering him.

These people, they looked like his parents. They were his parents. But… they weren’t. There was no attachment there. Nothing. It was like looking at empty shells. No Love.

It was distressing.

He watched, waiting, making note of the symbols and the placement of the ritual objects and the technological enhancements. There had to be something here that would help explain why Vlad was having such a hard time, while Danny had transitioned to his present existence without much problem.

He leaned over his not-mother’s calculations, then his not-father’s, made note of the differences. Looked at the fire, the knife, and the carved cylinders. Some of them didn’t feel quite right. One of them had been nudged out of alignment by a soda can put down by not-Jack, shifting the circle, making it bigger. Could that be something?

Vlad leaned over to examine the circle, and, at the same time, not-Jack pushed a button on the tape player, which started chanting. Danny could feel the hole boring into reality before the first syllable was finished. They’d made the portal both too well and too poorly.

Danny reached for Vlad and pulled him back, out of the way of the opening portal.

.

Danny may have made a mistake.

He’d saved Vlad from becoming other. In doing so, he’d changed things, altered this entire make-believe world. The way the story was progressing was no longer the same as his own. Which meant that it might be useless for collecting clues for fixing Vlad, Sam, and Tucker. Mostly Sam and Tucker.

(He’d help Vlad if it wouldn’t hurt his friends, he didn’t hate the man, not anymore, didn’t desire his suffering. But his friends were, of course, his main concern.)

But he couldn’t just leave. He’d made note of all the flaws in the portal, but that wasn’t in any way conclusive, wasn’t a guarantee.

And, in the meantime, his not-parents and not-Vlad had continued working on the portal, which they hadn’t shut down, unlike in the proper timeline. Or had it been disrupted by Vlad? He didn’t remember the exact sequence of events. His parents had never been clear.

But the portal was on, it was working, and it was wrong. Everything was wrong. The portal was in a class of things that should-not-be.

Just like Danny, in this world. He… With the portal, and the way things were going, he shouldn’t exist here, the butterfly effect would keep him from being born, and he was becoming painfully aware of that fact. Literally painfully. It was starting to hurt, being here, a throb in the back of his head.

Or was that the portal?

Either way…

(He couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was breaking things just by being here. Everything was going wrong. So many little accidents.)

(Or was that the portal?)

He kept watching.

It had been… a while, now. It was easy to lose track of time like this, with no one to talk to. Days? Maybe? He’d been drifting, which should have been troubling.

Maybe he should go back. Cut losses.

(Besides, it was disturbing watching his parents flirting with each other. And Vlad. Even if they weren’t really themselves.)

Then his parents wheeled in a… What was that? He walked closer. This was about the same size around as the pillars that had done this to him.

Danny would never forget those, after all.

Something hummed inside him, picking up a kind of resonance between the active portal and the pillar.

The ground fragmented beneath his feet.

Reality followed soon after.

.

He found himself nowhere with nothing. Only nowhere and nothing.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.

What had he done? He’d, he’d destroyed a world, he’d—

There was a gentle, but insistent tug on his chain. He followed it home.

.

He clung to Clockwork’s avatar, gasping, as if he was the only real thing in the world. His emotions were too much, too great, uncontained and roiling. They battered him like a stormy sea.

It’s alright, it’s alright, comforted the avatar. It wasn’t real, and now it never will be. All those worlds where you would not be. All gone.

No. No. No. Horror buzzed in his brain. He couldn’t have destroyed so much.

Never were,continued the avatar, Clockwork apparently oblivious. All disproven. Paradox. You could not be and yet you were. You were in the places you were not. So, now you exist, in all these places, in everywhere that could be, and always will. It stroked Danny, brushing away tears. Only one more to go, until you never were not, my beloved child, until you always were mine, as you were meant to be.

Danny keened into the robes of Clockwork’s avatar, distraught. Wind ruffled his hair.

Considering the point in time in which you were placed, said the avatar, Vladimir will be well again.

Danny looked up, hopeful for the first time in hours.

Mostly. The underlying cause has been removed. You should bring the rest to your… progenitors. They are at least competent in this area.

Danny nodded vigorously and attempted to extract himself from the avatar’s grasp. He was unsuccessful, although the avatar did adjust its grip on him.

You have had a difficult day, it observed. It then presented Danny with a cookie.

Confused, Danny took it.

A gift, said the avatar, Clockwork having evidently returned to his normal laconic mode.

“What’s it made of?” asked Danny, suspicious.

Love. What else?

.

“How do you feel?” asked Danny.

“Weird,” said Sam. “But okay.”

“What was it like?”

Sam shrugged. “It was like…” She waved her hand. “Watching a thousand different movies of my life, but they were all wrong. Like if they were crappy biopics done fifty years after I died or something.”

“Speak for yourself,” grunted Tucker. “I just got a lot of sand. So, so much sand. And sun. Do I have a sunburn?”

“No?” said Danny. “You look fine.”

“Ugh, I forgot you were white. You don’t know what sunburns look like.”

“I’d argue,” said Sam, “but you’re not wrong.” She fell back against her pillows. “I just want to sleep.”

“Same,” said Tucker. “I never want to see the sun again.”

“We’ll make a goth of you yet,” joked Sam, tossing a pillow at him.

“Okay,” said Danny, backing away. “Should I get the lights?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Sleep well,” he said. He hoped they would.

(Because he would not.)

[pizzazz-party]

Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

In the world of Ring Fit Adventure, there exist monsters, ghosts, cyborgs, robots, gods, a curious array of animals, human beings of enormous size…and Ring. Ring—a creature so entirely unique, he fails to fit into any of those categories.

Everyone has their own idea as to what Ring is, and as to where he came from. So here’s mine.

(Spoilers for the end of the main storyline. Various postgame dialogue spoilers beyond that.)

If we’re going to talk about where Ring might have come from, it makes sense to look for clues in what he’s presented as. Physically, and subtextually. So let’s take it from the top.

Stepping away from the confines of the game, Ring’s shape is based off a Pilates ring, a piece of exercise equipment who’s history dates back to nearly a century ago, as of the game’s release. It was invented to help rehabilitate wounded soldiers through physical therapy following World War I. Design-wise, though…Ring’s face draws heavy inspiration from depictions of Ancient Inca art. Specifically, he looks a lot like the figure atop this ceremonial tumi knife.

The prominent nose. The familiar jawline. A headpiece bisecting the brow. The blue commonly set into the eyes of the art. The ears—heavy earrings were unisex among the Inca nobility, resulting in long, stretched lobes. But most importantly—the statue is gold. And in the ancient Inca Empire, gold was revered as being sweat from the very sun itself. Metal nowadays is often associated with machinery, with invention. But raw metal has always been a fruit of the earth, as natural as any wood or leaf. The Inca took it a step further. They thought of gold as mystical.

Likewise, Ring’s design is meant to invoke these traits. Despite being made of metal, Ring visibly lacks gears or wiring or nozzles or hatches. His mouth may have a hinge and his flaming little hair piece may spin around. But in terms of “build,” Ring (the magical metal donut) has more in common with Pinocchio (the magical wooden puppet), than with an actual machine.

On a surface level, Ring really is best described as a “magical creature.” He’s obviously not made of flesh and blood. But he’s alive in a way that the closest comparison—sentient robots—just aren’t. Ring sweats, breathes, sleeps, eats. He ages. His metal face flexes and grows and shrinks as he speaks. Ring wields exercise energy, much in the same way that humans do, and more. He crafts, enhances, and stores things with it. Its raw essence flows through him like a fiery kind of lifeblood.

Ring’s not a human or a cyborg. He’s not a monster or a ghost or an animal. He’s made of metal like a robot, and that’s about it. And while Ring may (presumably) have the long life of a god, he lacks everything else. Right down to the proper shape and abilities. Ring, whatever the specifics, is a “magical creature” that exists in a class of his own. We never ever meet another being quite like him.

…At least. That’s what I used to think.

———

The thing with Ring is, it’s hard to tell whether he’s actively omitting facts or just forgetting them. He’s got a terrible memory. But he also as good as lies to us in the beginning, pretending as though Dragaux’s just some enemy to him.

So here is what I understand.

We meet Ring, and he and Dragaux are positioned as these perfect opposites, as perfect enemies. Ring builds others up, and Dragaux tears them down. Dragaux is flashy, an eyesore, the purple to Ring’s yellow, and yet he steals the stage every time. He’s a jerk, but he’s Ring’s jerk. We show up to every boss fight because we are invested in his story, his opinions, his downward spiral.

And that’s our first mistake, really. Because Dragaux’s accent color isn’t purple, it’s pink. Because Dragaux’s opposite isn’t Ring, it’s Trainee. And Ring’s real foil was never Dragaux, but Dark Influence itself.

———

Have you ever thought about how strange it is, this particular parasite. From a narrative standpoint, I mean. As much as it’s referred to as “Dragaux’s influence” or “Dragaux’s aura,” Dragaux is only its latest meal, not its source. And that meal has been lasting anywhere from decades to a century, at least. Dark Influence is, by nature, negativity incarnate. It could be as old as the hills. Older, maybe.

Dark Influence is voiceless, faceless. A parasite composed of pure negative exercise energy, it can theoretically exist on its own. But it thrives best when entrenched in the heart of a host. Its host—a physical creature that, once ensnared, starts exhibiting traits that belong to the Influence: like great swathes of flame in its signature color.

Does that not sound. Familiar.

Because Ring and Dark Influence? Fulfill eerily similar roles, in regards to their syncing partners.

Both of them harness their partner’s exercise energy. Both of them augment the abilities of their partner. But unlike Ring, who’s always actively helping Trainee in precise and creative ways…Dark Influence doesn’t care. I’m not sure if it can give a care about anything that doesn’t include “amassing power” and “spreading itself.” (And I think those are just instincts. I’ve yet to see proof that this thing has anything approaching a complex personality.) But whether or not it cares about Dragaux, it’s fully anchored within his body. It shares its strength with him because there’s nowhere else to store it.

Because unlike Ring, Dark Influence lacks a physical body of its own.

And that thought. How it “lacks” a body. Just sort of stuck around in my head. Because it’s funny, isn’t it? That Ring speaks and this thing doesn’t. That Dark Influence, this wildfire, is so strong and potent and infectious while Ring’s inner flames are so small and orderly and self-contained.

And then I started thinking about coins. Isn’t it funny, that they’re shaped like little rings. Isn’t it funny, that they sometimes just. Spring out of the ground.

How does a free-to-play gym turn a profit. How do all of these gyms, turn a profit.

If NPCs canonically collect coins on their travels just like Trainee… If someone isn’t just throwing away buckets of money into the mountains and rivers and skies… if golden little rings can just spring into existence alongside someone as they’re jogging…

What if it’s not a quirk. What if it’s not just a game mechanic.

What if everything—the coins, the EXP medals, the treasure chests with Ring’s face on them—what if they’re all byproducts that occur when a physical place is saturated with high amounts of foot traffic. With high amounts of exercise energy. People in Ring Fit Adventure constantly expel this stuff as they jog or work out or engage in fit battles. They don’t really direct it anywhere after its release. It just kind of gets absorbed into their surroundings. I always assumed that it helped make the land so lush and pretty, but what if it doesn’t stop there. What if, when large quantities of it gather, exercise energy naturally builds up and condenses itself into permanent, physical solids.

And I thought of Ring. Of the coins that are shaped like him. Of the medals that eerily share his face. Of the treasure chests especially, the way they scream and run and flex as though alive. (And I thought about Dragaux, who’s canonically brilliant, and how even his best statues fell short of capturing that same quality of animation.) I thought about how all three of these byproducts are golden. Just. Like. Ring.

Something like “dark” influence should have a natural counterpart. It’s a tale as old as time; perfect opposites, perfect enemies. But we never meet the Influence’s other half, do we? Just Ring.

Ring, our buddy, our pal. Ring, who’s a person in every way that matters, with hope and dreams and insecurities. Ring the “magical creature,” who, despite all of this, has more in common with Dark Influence than with any other creature in all of Ring Fit.

———

So here is the heart of my crazy theory.

Ring isn’t “partially” made of energy. He’s all energy, all the way down to his every last piece, whether it flows like a river or shines like a stone. And it could be that a long, long time ago, he existed much in the same way as the Dark Influence we fight in the game: as an unrestrained and formless entity. Not as a ring, but as a bright and brainless swathe of flames.

(Because if Dark Influence is insecurity and self-destruction and decay, balance would dictate its opposite be positivity, self-improvement, rebirth. A dangerously Bright Influence.)

And maybe it was just a natural process that got triggered when the conditions were right. But either way, somehow, someway, this particular Influence reincarnated into a shape that could better interact with people, without overwhelming or eating them. And that most natural shape condensed itself into Ring.

A baby Ring.

———

Even if you don’t buy into the existence of “Bright” Influence, Ring fully being some sort of life energy incarnate answers too many questions. It would explain why Ring is so good at manipulating exercise energy; it’s the most natural extension of himself. It would explain why Ring has the unique ability to sync with people; it’s how he originally used to exist, as life energy drifting in and out of living creatures. It would explain the aging. It would explain why Ring never mentions a parent or creator watching over him during childhood; because he came into this world totally alone. (Baby Ring belonged to no one before he belonged with Baby Drags.)

But Ring’s theoretical past life answers a few more questions. It could explain parts of Ring’s personality, his interests. (His dream of spreading positivity across the land.) It explains why there aren’t ten million Rings floating about, when coins and medals and chests are so relatively common. (Because there’s a key ingredient missing). It actually explains his five special powers. (Because I’m betting Influences have human-related origins. It’s either that, or “live humans being consumed” was part of the “perfect” conditions surrounding Ring’s birth. Which, cringe.) But more than anything, it addresses the sheer power imbalance happening between Ring and Dark Influence right now.

Dark Influence lacks boundaries and spreads itself like a virus, thoughtless and instinctive. Ring’s natural weapon against this thing should be to “infect” it right back. (I would expect some sort of sick light show to dance across Dragaux’s body during battle; yellow flames squaring off against purple.) But it doesn’t work that way. Ring the Person no longer works this way.

If Dark influence is a forest fire, then Ring is a fireplace set behind glass. At their core, these two are both energy. But the modes in which they exist divide them into separate skill sets entirely.

Dark Influence is wildfire of brute strength. It’s got range—in the spatial sense. It can spread to as many secondary hosts as Dragaux directs it to, so long as it’s fed well enough to reach for them. Compared to Ring’s measly one syncing partner, Dark Influence can sink itself into whole regions, can simultaneously feed off of so many people. It doesn’t have outright mind control powers; it’s more subtle than that. But its presence as negativity incarnate naturally works like a magnet to draw out the worst in people. There is nothing it enhances in a person that wasn’t already there, no matter how small the weakness. Coupled with the rush of power it imparts in its vessels, it makes bad decisions feel right. Even to good people. It’s, quite simply, a bad influence. (And then it consumes them.)

But other than that, Dark Influence doesn’t really do much.

Our bud Ring may only be able to light one house at a time, so to speak. But as contained as he is—Ring’s powers are more varied and nuanced, because Ring is more varied and nuanced. He’s always actively (and thoughtfully) applying energy to construct, convert, and amplify. For all its fearsome strength, the only thing Dark Influence can seemingly do on purpose, is feed.

———

(If Ring was once a being like Dark Influence, then that solves the final mystery of synchronization. If Dark Influence “infects” its host by sinking into the body, then Ring syncs with a partner by “planting” a piece of his essence inside them. This is why Trainee’s energy signature changes to mimic Ring’s; because she now carries a part of him in her beating heart. This is why Ring can freely access her energy; because this makes her a part of him now, too.)

———

So. Let’s pretend I’m not crazy. Say that all of these little details I’ve collected were intentionally laid out by the game developers. Say I’m correct, and that Ring really is, essentially, the child of Dark Influence’s greatest natural enemy.

The real question is: how self aware is Ring about all of this.

Because unfortunately, Ring not knowing his own backstory could be pretty on-brand for him. I love Ring, but from his point of view, it really could be that he just appeared one day, somehow—as an entirely clean slate. “Dark” or “bright,” these entities are brainless. Literally. No body means no brain. They can’t store memories, so they don’t have memories. Just energy.

Ring must know that he’s made from energy, too. He might even think of himself as one very lucky byproduct. But if this is really what Ring used to be (if there’s even a shadow of a chance that his predecessor used to eat people), then he might not know the full extent of his own story.

And maybe that’s for the best. I can’t imagine him choosing to get close to people otherwise. He loves people, cares so much about every single silly soul that he meets.

This would hurt him.

———

Whatever Ring’s origins may be, whatever he might have once been (if he’s ever been anything else at all)… I do know one thing. And it’s that I prefer him prefer him just the way he is.

Weird comments about my sweat aside, I wouldn’t have him any other way.

———

TL;DR: Our bud Ring has more in common with Dark Influence than with any other creature in all of Ring Fit.

If a flaming entity of negative energy can exist, then why not one made of positive energy? If positive energy condenses into permanent solids naturally and often…if Ring is made of positive energy…if Ring has more in common with Dark Influence than with anything else in this game…

Who’s to say that Ring himself, wasn’t once a flaming yellow mass of energy.

———

This marks the end. I could run wild with all the implications this theory leaves in its wake. But I’ve made my point. I’ve found every answer I was looking for. And they may not have been the answers I was expecting (or even wanting), but they’ve satisfied me all the same.

I’m done. Believe what you will.

Thanks for reading, and for sticking with me all this way. It’s been real.

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DISCLAIMER: My name is Pizzazz and I take this game way too seriously. This is all for fun! At the time of this post, I am on World 36 of the post game. I feel pretty strongly about my conclusions, but I’ll go back and edit this if/when/where applicable.

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RING ANALYSIS

Part 1: Synchronizing—How it Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

Part 2: Ring’s Powers—And What They All Have In Common

Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins