#like what the actual fuck why do I keep going through this one of them was giving me the same evil look

[dolche-tejada]

"So you agree that if they're alive then they're still going to be put on sentences."

The villains ? Yeah that's kinda my point actually... They constantly suffer from consequences of what they did and even from undeserved shit (both before and after becoming criminals) when the heroes hardly ever does.

"Deku: LOSING OFA but become still a hero."

Firstly, yeah so he didn't really sacrifice anything if he can still be a hero through his super-suit granting him similar abilities to his previous set of quirks.

Secondly since Deku haven't even tried to talk with Shigaraki, it was either renouncing to OFA or dying alongside every other hero and overall the entirety of Japan so "sacrifice" is already arguable.

"significant personal sacrifice, altering his future as a hero. This isn't just about physical healing but about a life-changing choice, which does have consequences."

Lmao what ? It only happened because Deku is fucking lazy and didn't bother training to still be a hero (or even a policeman or firefighter) after losing his quirk. We saw through Aizawa, Shinso, Knuckleduster, Mandalay, Stein or even Nighteye that you can clearly be a hero through training. Yet Deku needed to wait 8 years for Bakugo and Mei to provide him some high-tech suit on a silver plate to keep playing heroes with his buddies instead of doing so by pulling his fingers out of his ass by working out.

"Hawks can no longer fly or use his feathers for combat, reconnaissance, or rescue operations."

I've already answered to that in my initial post, have you even bothered reading it ?

"He retired from become a hero. He lose his identity as a hero"

You mean almost as if it was treated as a good thing for him and not a sacrifice since he was groomed by the HPSC into becoming a child soldier super-hero ? His wings were even symbolically framed as his own cage, because it's through them that he was exploited his whole life. You can hardly do less subtle than that. Losing his quirk isn't a consequence, it's basically a reward from Horikoshi.

Besides, the argument I've made about Deku works here too. Hawks wasn't forced to give up being a hero after losing his quirk. Mirio didn't need a quirk to give Overhaul a ride for his money. Nighteye, Aizawa and Shinso are basically quirkless in a fight and are still able to work as functional heroes. A middle-aged man out of his prime like Knuckleduster can beat the shit out of powerful quirk users, Hawks has no excuses.

"and why can't he be forgiven too ?"

When did Hawks sought forgiveness to begin with ? He was confronted to his crime only twice : The first time he justified it in front of journalists and the second time, he just admitted he was wrong to a clone of Toga before she vanished.

"If the villain is redeemed in your eyes?"

When did I said that ?

"He's been a hero that saves countless lives."

A hero who didn't suffer from any personal consequences for murdering a villain running away.

"Endeavor: Loss of Arm: Endeavor indeed loses his right arm during his battle with All For One (AFO)."

And aside from that, Enji suffered no backlash for abusing the shit out of his family for years and still has his money + Hawks, Shoto, Fuyumi, Rei and his partners at his side.

"His fate was not revealed on chapter 431 but it seems like dubious."

So as I said in my initial post, the difficulties he will apparently have to endure are offscreened (assuming they really happened). From what we can actually see, he's fine despite being now disabled.

"You point out that while heroes suffer seemingly lesser consequences? Do you read manga and think mmm this people continue their lives and careers with little to no real change or punishment."

Because that's the case. The "consequences" you mentioned are either superficial or not even real ones since Hawks and Deku could have continue their hero career if they truly intended to.

"Contrastingly, you imply that the villains do not receive similar leniency or redemption, suggesting an imbalance in how the story handles character outcomes"

I'm not suggesting, I'm stating. Heroes like Hawks, Enji or Mirko can get scott free with the shit they did, meanwhile villains have to assume the consequences of each one of their crimes.

And if you want to talk about the more "physical" consequences, from the heroes' side, once again Gran Torino survived having his ribcage destroyed by Shigaraki, Bakugo his heart blown to bits and Enji to being ragdolled against buildings. From the villains' side, Toga died from a mere blood loss and Kurogiri from a random explosion of Bakugo...

Yes heroes do get a special treatment from Horikoshi, it's just ridiculous to deny it at that point.

"In mha the context might differ, where the societal structure, the nature of Quirks, and the scale of destruction might call for different resolutions."

Except at the exception of All For One, nearly all the time heroes have non-lethal options to neutralize criminals.

"However, the point stands that NOT ALL heroes need to resort to killing to be seen as just or effective."

Which evidence furthermore that Hawks allegedly needing to murder Twice in order to stop him is bullshit.

"Anyway. Twice and his involvement in villainous activities inherently puts innocent lives at risk."

Which still don't justify to murder him when :

Twice was running away.

Hawks could have subdue him at any moment without trying.

It's his fucking job to capture criminals putting innocent lives at risk without killing them. Again if he can't do that, then he's an incompetent.

He had prep time to plan his arrest and even the perfect quirk to counter Double.

"You're correct that modern justice systems aim for rehabilitation over retribution in many cases."

I didn't say that though, just that most modern societies aren't based on a childish principle like "an eye for an eye". Putting criminals in prison is still a form of retribution for their crimes and in most countries, rehabilitation isn't that much of a priority.

"However, within mha the discussion isn't just about justice."

Uh yes, it quite literally is. You can't write a story about super-heroes without treating notions like justice. Also this story has for prominent themes how unfairly treated some categories of people are, racism or government corruption, how can you read this manga and pretend that justice isn't the point ?

"The "eye for an eye" argument here not about endorsing that philosophy but discussing how stories sometimes use it to resolve conflicts."

In your first reply, you argued that the League dying was only karma, that they don't deserve a happy ending and that it doesn't matter if they were "pitiful before". As far as I can see, you were pretty determined to endorse this philosophy.

"Your point about wanting the League of Villains (LoV) to live might want characters to survive for more story or development"

It's not a matter of content or development, it's a question of consistency and good writing. As I've said before : If you promised something during your whole story, that everything you developed goes that way but that you suddenly chicken out at the last second by making a 180°, then your story is ass since your conclusion makes all these themes and development pointless.

There is no point in following Shoto and his family trying to save Toya because he will die in excruciating pain not even 8 years afterwards.

There is no point in following Deku trying to be "the greatest hero" by understanding villains and saving them because each time he got the opportunity to do that, he just resorted to violence at the first difficulty.

There is no point in trying to see Uraraka understand Toga and reaching her heart because Toga killed herself at the end.

There is no point in following this story overall since nothing really changed at the end despite what Horikoshi pretend.

And when some things did changed, it happened magically offscreen (like the heteromorph racism) so no point in following the story here again since we don't get to see how this issue was adressed.

"but within the story's logic, their death might serve a greater narrative purpose."

Except their death served zero purpose except maintaining a status quo repeatedly shown across the story to be blatantly unfair and creating more problems than it solves. And even on a more symbolic or thematic aspect, what does Toga killing herself actually brings ? Or Toya slowly dying after being reduced to a piece of charcoal ? Or Deku punching Shigaraki out of existence after a life of suffering ?

In addition to that, I could point out there's not much value in adding something to your story anyway if by doing so, you contradict everything you've been telling up to that point and convey fucked up messages as if they were good moral lessons.

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[sunderwight]

Shen Qingqiu gets hit by a rare wife plot.

And it actually is a rare one because Airplane didn't even write this one down! He toyed with the idea before ultimately dismissing it as being too controversial for the tastes of his readers, and adapting only a few of the same elements for a subsequent chapter of PIDW.

But apparently the System can pull inspiration even from the author's thoughts, especially when there's nothing to contradict the concept and even a few threads of it still to be found in the original, and somehow Shen Qingqiu runs afoul of this previously-unwritten plot bunny.

The core concept was a cuck scenario, of all things. One of the Luo Binghe's wives gets afflicted by a poison that can only be cured by dual cultivation, but specifically can't be cured by by dual cultivation with anyone who has mastery over demonic qi. Something something conflicting energies, something bullshit something. Peerless Cucumber would have ripped the chapter to shreds if it had actually made it to publication, not just for the insult of implying that Luo Binghe should let one of his wives sleep with someone else, but also because why would Luo Binghe -- able to use both kinds of cultivation -- somehow not be able to keep his demonic energies from influencing the situation just in this one case?

Well it turns out that in his specific case it's because sex gets him too worked up to keep things strictly separate, and the degree of control required to treat the affliction whilst dual cultivating is extensive enough that even a little slip-up would be fatal.

Of course, in the actual chapter of PIDW, this same plot device was altered and used to create a harem orgy where Luo Binghe oversaw several of his wives "treating" one another's "afflictions", but Shen Qingqiu just had to go and get a fatal of dose of the more severe version (he didn't realize the risk, because again, this version didn't even make it into the novel).

Anyway, of course this ends up with Shen Qingqiu trying to figure out another way to cheat death, while Luo Binghe goes through the five stages of grief before accepting that he's just going to have to let someone else fuck his husband. This leads to an argument because of course Shen Qingqiu's not going to cheat on Luo Binghe, and he's especially not going to force one of his martial siblings to sleep with him, come on now, and Luo Binghe trying not to cry tears of blood while bringing himself to explain that a fair few of Shen Qingqiu's sect siblings would be happy volunteers for this task.

Shen Qingqiu's just like, well of course you think that, for some bizarre reason you think everyone wants to sleep with me. Bias is what it is. Really it's flattering Binghe but obviously every other person we know is straight, that's just statistics, and everyone in the entire cultivation world knows that Qi Qingqi would sooner chew glass than have sex with a man!

Luo Binghe, weeping now: Shizun please. This is serious. I need you speak words that make sense in the order you're saying them.

They argue, they reach an impasse, the clock is ticking. So Luo Binghe reluctantly turns to the most reliable source of information (outside of himself) on Manipulating Shen Qingqiu to Do Things That Are in His Own Best Interests -- Shang Qinghua.

At first Shang Qinghua is like, well I'm flattered Junshang but I don't think I could shoulder the baggage of fucking Cucumber-bro for you. But then Luo Binghe is like no I need someone who is way hotter and more capable than you, if Shizun is going to fuck someone else at my behest they're going to be TOP TIER so that when I fuck him better afterwards he's really impressed with me. Liu Qingge, obviously.

Not Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua asks? (He'd take the insult a little more personally but honestly he's just relieved that he's not being asked to navigate this social minefield.)

No, Luo Binghe says. He's not 100% sure he could beat Yue Qingyuan in a fight even to this day, which in his mind also translates to not being 100% sure he could do sex better than him either, so Yue Qingyuan is an emergency last resort. He's way more likely to cry on Shizun too and Shen Qingqiu is into that shit, it's too risky.

Alright, says Shang Qinghua, and he thinks about it, and then he comes up with the beautifully simple solution:

Luo Binghe has to fuck Liu Qingge first.

Because of course the crux of the issue is that even with permission, Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to cheat on Luo Binghe. But in the twisted annals of his mind, Luo Binghe himself is still entitled to a harem, even if Luo Binghe is also happily monogamous in this life. So if he shacks up with Liu Qingge first then Liu Qingge essentially joins Luo Binghe's harem, at which point if Shen Qingqiu sleeps with him it's not an affair, it's the gay version of those fanservice-y 3P scenes that the wives in PIDW did. Shang Qinghua translates the concept as best as he can to Luo Binghe, who -- though slightly dubious -- must accept that so far Shang Qinghua's wisdom hasn't steered him wrong with regards to his shizun's eccentricities.

Luo Binghe's mission: seduce Liu Qingge, or at least convince him to have sex, or possibly to lie and (convincingly!) tell Shen Qingqiu that they had sex. That last one is the longest shot so he's probably going to have to just fuck him (Luo Binghe still underestimates how willing his husband is to believe that just about anyone would have sex with him).

Shang Qinghua's mission: convince Shen Qingqiu that he owes his husband steamy threeway gay sex or something so that this plan he pulled out of his ass doesn't backfire and get him killed.

[anghraine]

I was thinking about "Journey to Babel" for whatever reason, and about how I find Sarek and Amanda super intriguing both as Spock's parents and as a couple.

Like, before watching, I had the vague fandom-osmosis impression that Sarek is Spock's shitty, judgmental father who actually does care about him deep (deep) down and will come through in a pinch, but not much more than that. I'd gathered that his emotional world mostly revolves around being crazy about his wife while refusing to admit he has feelings about anything (and everyone sees through this).

I also had a vague fandom-osmosis impression that Amanda is the normal, supportive, emotionally healthy parent to Sarek's distant, disapproving one and that it's not entirely clear why she even stays with this asshole except some vague "well, she loves him, I guess."

But upon watching the actual episode, I was quite surprised by Amanda—not at first, when she does seem more or less as reported, but later, as the stakes rise and we end up with Spock anxious about Kirk's health (because he got stabbed nearly to death) and insistently upholding his responsibility to take up Kirk's role, while Amanda is anxious about Sarek's health (because he's nearly dead of a congenital problem) and insistently trying to use whatever influence she can bring to bear to save him (the parallel signifying nothing, I'm sure). And the way these collide is kind of heartbreaking, because "Journey to Babel" is entirely clear that her reason for staying with Sarek is not that she's vaguely loving but that she's every bit as insane about him as he is about her.

When she hits Spock for not risking his own life and that of hundreds of other people on board to donate a ton of blood to Sarek in an experimental procedure that may or may not even work and tells him she'll hate him forever if he doesn't do it, I was like... I mean, I get that it's a tough moment for her, yes. But also, what the fuck. This is your son, ma'am.

I don't hate her for this, to be clear. I was just surprised that Spock is such an obviously secondary priority to both of his parents rather than Amanda being The Normal One. Amanda has never been normal about Sarek a day in her life!

And ... I mean, Spock himself has repeatedly jeopardized the lives of everyone on the Enterprise for slim chances of somehow saving Kirk, well past the point when even McCoy was telling him to stop. Oh, and Spock led a different outside chance of saving Kirk that failed and left the Enterprise with only impulse power, and Spock's response was to keep going towards Kirk's location on impulse power and spend the 58 days it took him to get there barely eating or sleeping.

So, like, yes, I don't get the feeling that Sarek or Amanda are particularly good parents, though they love Spock in their very different ways. But I do kind of respect them for being the only TOS couple who I genuinely feel are absolutely unhinged about each other in the same way as Spock and Kirk. As far as TOS is concerned, I'd love to be a fly on the wall at their family gatherings.

[wee-larceny]

Time to Orbit: Unknown liveblog Chapters 011-020

Chapters 001-010

So recently I've been reading Time to Orbit: Unknown by @derinthescarletpescatarian who may or may not appreciate being tagged in this thing again; a sci-fi mystery you've probably heard about if you're on this webbed site. I am definitely having Thoughts about it, so I'm abandoning my uncomfortably long post for a shiny new one, and also grabbing the opportunity to organise some of those thoughts; we have 180+ chapters and any minor detail might be key. It's only getting more complicated, so let us go through unanswered questions and assorted fuckery. Mysterious, frankly bizarre, and/or outright shady behaviour exhibited by characters:

Captain Joshua Reimann: grabbed an axe and started attacking the walls. Wrecked CR1 and his own arm in the process. Died of an untreated infection. Science Officer Claire Rynn-Hatson, possibly also Science Officer Mohammed Aziz and/or Maintenance Officer Ash Dornae: did some sort of experiment involving dangerous chemicals: the experiment ended in disaster killing Rynn-Hatson on the spot and Aziz&Dornae later due to poisoning. The experiment was conducted for unknown reasons despite the lack of any available medical professionals. Captain Kinoshita Keiko: did not authorise the jettisoning of CR1 even though it cut more than half the crew off from her and made it impossible to turn fore engines on from her position. To be fair it's kind of understandable considering the number of people in there. She also died trying to move a giant, heavy crate of protein bars for some reason. Engineer Leilea Arc Hess: spilled coffee all over a keyboard and didn't clean it up. Also kept a physical calendar even though I don't think you need the AI for the calendar or timed reminders to work. The ship's AI: so many things. Didn't wake any new crewmembers when the deaths started; didn't decrease "gravity" or do anything else to save Captain Kinoshita; woke Aspen and Aspen alone when the fore engines needed turned on; needed Aspen to identify by chip even though it was the one that woke them up just a bit ago, who the fuck else would they be; is definitely lying about CR1; is definitely acting outside its parameters; other stuff probably. The organisation that sent them up here in the first place: doesn't allow personal effects which is comic-book villain behaviour. Also made the AI. Doctor Aspen Greaves: upset the bees.

My questions at this point: Why did Captain Reimann try to damage the ship? I've read Solaris, I know that sci-fi characters don't just go crazy for no reason. Why did no one treat Captain Reimann's wounds? Whose body is missing and where is it? There were only three frozen corpses for four potential dead people in the back of the ship. What is in CR1? How did the 120-something people die there? If a guy with an axe in the process of being subdued can actually cause a hull breach then that's not a spaceship I'd like to travel on. When and why was CR1 locked ? We know when it was damaged but not when it was password-locked. Which captain did it? Riemann probably didn't have the opportunity (it was still open during his rampage and I sure wouldn't have allowed him computer access after.) If it was Kinoshita, why? Why didn't the two halves of the crew reestablish contact? What killed the people at the front of the ship? What's up with the disgusting air filer? What was the experiment that killed three members of the crew? Why can't the new captain override the previous one's orders? Captain locks a door, dies, door is locked forever. That's just bad design. How did the aft engines get irreparably damaged? What happened when the ship lurched sideways? It can't have been just the rotations slowing, because that would decrease gravity unless there's a complicated science reason as to why it doesn't. There can't be a complicated science reason because Derin explains those immediately. Did the crew keep logs? If yes, read them. Current suspects:

Captain Reimann: convenient scapegoat but probably not the root of the problems. The AI: could be. Computers sometimes do stupid shit. My company had to change one of their domains once because a widely used cybersecurity AI decided that we're a phishing scam pretending to be ourselves and wouldn't let the programmers whitelist us. The organisation that launched the Courageous, whatever their name is: programmed the AI. Aspen: no, that's stupid.

[meerkatp]

I made this a couple years ago. Been feeling relevant again.

Honestly I'd argue that currently BIDEN is more responsible for the current death long covid and sickness count. And that's not to downplay what likely will happen in the future, but it was FUCKING INFURIATING how they dropped all covid restrictions way too soon because it wasn't Trump insisting on it, it therefore wouldn't look bad to go "back to normal", the lives of vulnerable civilians be damned. And while I'm sure things will get worse again in the future, especially considering we've now got fucking bird flu to be worried about, Biden's part in the spread of covid in this country should not be downplayed.

But hey, now that it's Trump doing it, the genocidal maniac that most people are willing to admit is a genocidal maniac is in control again, and now that he's got other obviously cartoonishy evil people in charge of departments like the CDC, people will start to care again and admit this shit is bad and fucked again, right? Right?

Anyways at least do your part in protecting you, your loved ones, and anyone else you come into contact with as well as anyone that person comes in contact with and wear your fucking mask. Surgical masks are good and effective but N95/KN95 masks offer so much more protection. General cloth masks don't give much protection at all so if you want a non-disposable one seek out one that offers actual protection.

Get vaccinated. The CDC said that generally you should be vaxxed about every 8 weeks. With RFK Jr. now heading the CDC you should do this sooner rather than later.

Don't eat out at restaurants, get takeout/ delivery or if you're able to, make something at home. I shouldn't have to explain how eating out is a fucking stupid idea but I can't even get my parents to get it through their thick skulls so if you don't get it, when you eat in public, you need to take off your mask. And around other unmasked people covid can spread. Even if you are vaccinated it you can still spread covid, even if you don't have any symptoms. And eventually it could get to someone who's either not vaccinated or immunocompromised and give them the permanent disability of long covid, or kill them.

As for bird flu, while there currently haven't been any cases of it being transmitted from human to human, humans have still gotten it from birds (wild and domestic). Cows have also been documented getting it. Also cats are extremely susceptible to bird flu and there have been several cases of them dying from it. So keep your cats indoors. There already are a bunch more reasons to keep them indoors but this is currently the most dire. Bird flu is already a big reason why eggs are so damn expensive right now. It's because captive birds keep getting it, leading to the farmers having no choice but to kill their entire flock. And let's not forget the whole bird flu thing got it's start under Biden who proceeded to just ignore it. And yes Trump will make it worse, there's no doubt about that, but we cannot forget Biden's part in all of this either.

[adkawariatka]

Back of or I will bite

Cold rain drips from Danny’s jacked, water slushes in his shoes when he walks through dirty streets of Gotham. He is cold. It should be rare experience for him nowdays, since his death actually. However, recently he discovered that if he mistreats his human half, this is what happens. He hadn’t eaten anything for too long and now cold can affect him. He is starting to get used to that feeling, when hunger twists his stomach and chill runs on his skin like snake. Normal humans would be already dead. Unfortunetly he isn’t normal human. It is why he is in this streets anyway. When goverment with your own parents hunt you like an animal you try to be invisible.

There is no better place to dissapear than city as dangerous as Gotham. Here no one will pay attention to some homeless kid when every other week some psycho tries to murder bunch of civilians while a furry in bat costiume fights them off. That is why he and his friends chose this place. He blends in, dissapears. They decided he needs to lay low. He can do that he can be invisible goddamit. Well could be invisible like a week Ago. Right now his physical state isnt really cooperating. Where is super-healing when he needs it.

Right now he turned to his other special abilities. Ones he buried deep, into The back of his head, as deep as sands of The cursed desert he was born on. Right next to The memory of a twin that he loathes with his whole existence. He moves with practise even if his stealth skills are a little rusty. They were trained in him since he was a baby.

He needs to find Food, Danny lived in gotham for three weeks he knows some spots for leftovers, not fresh ones, but enough to sustain him. Sometimes he steals something fresh but lately he has no energy to do so. His gun-wound is still healing even if it should be gone by now. It is not deadly obviously but painful enough to remind him of its existence from time to time.

Danny checked trashcans behind two restaurants before he found one that wasn’t already occupied. He learned hard way to stay away from others who will do everything to eat, even long expired goods. He is not proud of it. However, Danny survived far worse. He died for fucks sake! Some trash Food isnt going to do him.

Danny was just peaking into The containers before he Heard loud bang and angry shouts. It was a little early for big fishes to get out on street. Sun heven’t even set yet. He needs to hurry. As he was to pull out that half eaten sandwich, footsteps Sounded behind him. Before he turned around there was also a heavy thud and loud groan. Immedately, he turned around and came race to face with Nightwing. He was doing so good up until now. He just had to came across one of Batman’s sidekicks.

- Hey there, you alright?

He sounded genuine but was also part of justice league that worked for goverment. So he was a big no no for Danny. That’s why he nodded and sweeped his eyes around to find possible exits. They were in backalley with only one exit which was a source of fight noises.

- Okey kid we need to get out of here. I can see that you prefer to keep your distance but Right now we don’t have time for comforts

Then he catches Danny by his waist and hoists them both on The nearest root. His left side with a wound is on fire, vision goes white for a moment and he stumbles when Nightwing lets him go. Danny doesn’t know what happend after but when he can normally breathe he is alone. On a roof. How The hell is he supposed to get down without his powers or any gear in the matter!? He goes to The edge and observes The fight. It looks like one of The gangs had some sort of a deal and The Bats had a tip that it will take place here. Just Danny’s luck to end up in The middle of a mess. At this point it can’t really get worse. There is no sense in trying to get down now. He will wait until fight is over. There is too much gangsters and people in spandex for Danny’s liking down There. So he sits and waits. Eventually fight dies down. He might have dozed off there a little bit. Light footsteps alerts him of new presence on his roof. Danny stands up when short figure in black yellow and green costiume stops before him. He assumes that it is his lift to the ground but the hero stops suddenly. He watches long enough to make Danny uncomfortable. Then Danny hears words he hoped never to came across again:

-Danyal?

He sharply backs away. No! he thinks. Not him! Not now! He knows that voice. God Dammit! And he thought that his situation couldn’t get worse. He was already starving, wounded, without roof above his head, hunted by goverment and his parents! Why not add an assassin cult to the mix?! Whoever fucks with his fate has twisted kind of humour. Danny heels hit the end of the roof. But the hero is still getting closer.

-Danyal its you. I know it is you. You need to stop…

- Stay away from me! - Danny thinks that he might be screaming. He is not sure. He is terrified, last time they saw each other didnt end well for him. His vision starts to swirl again, his wound stings, he might throw up. Does he even has something to throw up with? Danny is pretty sure he is going to die. Maybe that’s why just in spite for monster of a brother he bends backwards just a little too much. Last Think he hears are Damian’s screams he does not know why he seems so panicked. He probably came here to finish the job so why bother? Or worse he came back to bring Danny back. Doesn’t matter not Right now. He is falling, it reminds him a little bit about flying. God he loved it. He wonders if second death will hurt as much as the first. Will he get to go away? Will he be able to fully die? Or will he gets stuck as a full ghost? It is his last thought before his vision goes black.

I know I wasn’t here for some time. But I had this idea and wanted to share. I will probably continue it. I want to include interaction of Danny with Damian. There is a lot of fics with them loving each other and they are amazing, However, the concept of Danny hating Damian peaked my interest. How would that work? Besides, Danny’s angst is of course a must😆

[lsunstreakerl]

for kink prompt...SH!verse, the possessive jealous threesome that never was with max charles + lewis. either it actually happening or max riling charles up by talking about it 😎

1.9k words because they spend too much time yapping. kink prompt fill! SH lestappen and the threesome that never was. explicit, obviously.

pairings: charles leclerc/max verstappen, (in spirit) lewis hamilton/charles leclerc/max verstappen

relevant heads up: slight feminization? in a little bit of a derogatory way but that's more so a thing Max isn't willing to admit he likes. I think the most outrageous thing here is charles taking a picture without asking (but it doesn't go anywhere except the private folder on his phone)

"Max, are you mad at me?"

Max is currently firmly on his side of the bed, trying very hard not to be mad at Charles.

It's not even anger, it's just-

"No."

Charles sighs, half rolling over to drape an arm across his waist.

"I don't believe you."

Three points to Charles, because despite how he's behaving, apparently he isn't an idiot.

"That is because I am lying."

There's a beat of silence. Charles is clearly giving him space to elaborate, and Max is very clearly not interested in elaborating, because it's stupid.

Charles grips his waist and rolls them, settling them so that Max is facing him, even though he's avoiding eye contact.

"Chéri- I cannot fix it if you don't talk to me."

Max frowns.

"I thought you'd be more interested in talking to Lewis."

Charles makes a face like he's swallowed a lemon, and it's the closest to unattractive Max has ever seen him, which makes him feel slightly better.

"What?"

Well, Max has already gone and stuck his foot in his mouth, why not make it worse.

"Since you two have been so cozy lately."

The root of the problem here is that Max is acting like a jealous, bitchy WAG. Ferrari had done some dumb clothing collaboration for the winter, and it had involved Charles and Lewis and a fucking log cabin. With one bed.

"Max, what are you-"

Max tries to roll back over, but Charles snags him around the waist, pulling him back in. Max ducks his head down, catches his teeth around the edge of Charles' collarbone and nips.

"Ow- Max. What do you mean by that?"

Max keeps his head down.

"Your stupid winter ad went out today, and everyone on the internet is talking about how you are both 'so boyfriend coded' and it is stupid."

Charles is quiet for a moment, and Max is sure he's coming up with some kind of apology, appropriately dramatic for the situation.

Charles laughs.

Max practically gives himself whiplash yanking his head back, eyes narrowed.

"Sorry- Max, baby, I am sorry, really, it is just-"

Max groans and rolls away. Yes, it's stupid. Yes, he knows. Yes, Charles would rather step on a slobbery dog toy than get in bed with Lewis. Still.

"Chéri, come back-"

Charles can barely speak through his laughter, and Max flips him off as he stalks out of the bedroom.

Stupid boyfriend. He turns his head slightly, calling out over his shoulder in a parting shot.

"Maybe I should go dig up the tweets from 2021, where everyone was talking about how Lewis bends me over after every race- see how you feel then."

The laughter abruptly cuts off, and Max has to fight not to choke on his own sudden giggle.

He turns to poke his head back through the doorway, and Charles is sitting up, duvet pooled around his waist, eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry, what tweets?"

Oh- oh Charles doesn't know.

Max can't stop the smug grin playing at his lips as he tugs his phone out of his pocket.

"You did not see them? It was practically every weekend Charlie, all these accounts saying Lewis puts me in my place after every race, or that I was just being bratty- Lando sent me one that called Lewis my dom once-"

Max lights up, delighted at the way Charles' face has gone shadowy. This whole thing could have been avoided if he'd just apologized.

"I mean, really- if everyone thought he and I were fucking, and now you and him are fucking, we should just invite him in, see if he fucks as good as his reputation."

"Max."

Charles' voice is dark, and Max freezes. When he looks up, Charles' eyes are locked onto his, and they don't waver as he speaks.

"Leave your phone on the counter, and then you're coming back to bed."

Max hadn't intended to make Charles act like... this.

He's not complaining. He drops his phone off on the dresser before making his way back onto the bed, and his knee has barely hit the mattress before Charles is manhandling him, laying him out flat with his wrists pinned above him.

"You can still apologize for that, and we can pretend it didn't happen."

Max is not fucking apologizing, if anything Charles needs to apologize, for doing such a stupid photoshoot.

He raises his chin.

"Maybe you want him on the phone to hear it also? I can moan his name very easily as well, want to hear-"

Charles grips his jaw hard, bringing his teeth down into the meat of Max's shoulder, and Max gasps, jerks at his hands, but Charles keeps them held firm.

"Don't be a whore, Max."

Max hates how those words, in that tone, is rapidly making him hard, pressing his hips up into Charles.

"You really think you would want Lewis here? You want him to see you beg for fingers, start crying on my cock? You want him to see how desperate you get to be full, the way you fall apart if I don't give you something when I'm done?"

Max tilts his head back, because Charles' tone is dark, and he's still holding his jaw in his hand, but Max is grinning.

"Maybe he would fuck me better. Maybe he would not tease, maybe he would not even-"

Charles shoves three fingers into his mouth and Max gags, knows he's dug his own grave.

"What if I said you were right? What if I called him right now, left the phone next to you on the pillow and edged you all night?"

Charles scoffs, pulling his fingers out and wrestling Max's shorts off, pressing his thighs apart, and Max moans.

"You- you would not, you get too impatient to get your dick in me-"

Charles presses his thumb meanly into the tip of Max's cock, and Max jerks underneath him.

"Fuck, you're as wet as a girl, aren't you baby? You want it that bad? You really are a whore, if this is all it takes."

Max twists underneath him, thighs flexing.

"No- no, it is not-"

"Right, of course not. You'd probably love if I called him over, let him see you fucked out and messy. Maybe I'd let him have my sloppy seconds when I'm done with you, yes?"

Max's face is violently red, and he didn't mean for any of this, the way he's so hard it hurts, the way Charles isn't fucking stretching him, the way his words are ringing in his ears.

He opens his mouth to respond, but Charles flicks his wrist again, and Max's head flies back into the pillowcase.

"Charlie,"

Charles continues talking over him, like Max hadn't said anything at all.

"He seems like a tits guy, and you've got plenty."

"They're not-"

Max hates when Charles calls them... that. It makes something in his gut churn, makes him feel hot. He squirms underneath Charles, wants to hide his face or have his hands back, but Charles doesn't give him the option.

Charles laughs at him again, lowers his head around one of Max's pecs and bites, and Max's hips jerk up off the bed, legs wrapping around Charles as tears bead at his eyes.

"Hurts, Charles please, please I didn't mean it-"

Charles lets go, bringing his head back up to kiss Max, wet and filthy and messy.

"I thought you wanted Lewis, no?"

Max bites at Charles' lower lip, pulling him in with his legs to grind against him.

"You- I want you, fuck me, please."

Charles squeezes his wrists together for a moment, grinning against his skin.

"See, I would, but-"

He presses Max back into the mattress, sucking hickies into his throat where they'll be impossible to hide.

"-you are being a brat."

Max moans, half out of desperation and half out of frustration, fruitlessly grinding his hips up for friction. It's not enough.

"Please, I was-"

Charles squeezes at the base of Max's cock, long fingers wrapped around him, and Max could cry. He's not getting fucked tonight. He'll be lucky if he gets off at all.

Charles must be able to see the resignation on his face, and he laughs at him as he brushes his fingers across Max's tip- gets them wet and sticky before bringing them back up to his lips.

"Suck."

Max lets his mouth drop open, and he's trying not to cry around Charles' fingers, even as he can feel Charles rutting against his hip, because it's not fair-

Charles tenses, groaning as his fingers press deep into Max's mouth, grazing the back of his throat. Max gags, feels sticky and wet and hot, and he's not going to come tonight, but Charles still looks so pretty above him.

He's still trying to swallow down the excess saliva when Charles pulls his fingers out, wiping them against Max's cheek.

Charles leans over him, grabbing his phone off the dresser before sitting back on his heels, and Max is still so pent up, so close to coming he really thinks all it would take it just a bit of pressure.

Max doesn't realize for a second until he hears the shutter noise, and then it hits him- Charles has taken a picture of him, debauched and messy, desperate and wanting.

"Oh, oh don't send that-"

Charles huffs a laugh, tossing the phone down by Max as he lets go of his wrists.

"If you want to get off so bad you can call Lewis and beg him."

Max whimpers, because he doesn't fucking want Lewis, he wants Charles.

"You, just you, I only want-"

Charles brushes his fingers lightly against Max's hip, so close to where he wants him, but not close enough.

"That's right."

"Please."

Charles grins down at him, gorgeous and beautiful and terribly mean.

"You can beg prettier than that."

Max feels tears sliding down his cheeks, and he's so close, he might even get there just by Charles taking that humiliating tone with him.

"Please, please get me off, please let me come, only you- I never wanted anyone else, just for you, Charles please-"

"There we go."

Charles finally wraps his fingers back around Max's cock, and Max sobs, gasping as Charles jerks his wrist, and then he's done, feels his own come painting stripes across his stomach, trembling underneath Charles' hands.

"That's it, there you are."

Charles carefully strokes him through it, letting go right before it tips into overstimulation, leaning down to gently kiss Max.

"You were so good for me, you are so beautiful like this, I love you."

Max steadies his breathing, tugs Charles into him to hide his face in his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, I'm sorry-"

Charles presses a kiss into his hair.

"Nothing to be sorry for, unless you actually want Lewis in the bedroom."

The post-nut clarity is starting to hit, and Max recoils slightly.

"Eugh-"

Charles bursts into laughter, peppering kisses on Max's face and cheeks, dropping one on his nose.

"So now it is not okay? You are ridiculous, did you know that?"

Max turns his nose up, avoiding eye contact.

"I of course do not know what you're talking about. I was very mature about the whole thing."

Charles squawks, looking affronted.

"This whole thing started because of you-"

Max is going to pretend he doesn't know what he's talking about.

[dellamortethelesser]

The Wigmaker Job

Notes and Thoughts - Part 4

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5

DISCLAIMER: These posts I'm doing are my own analyses and are done with the intentional eye to examine the relationship between Lucanis and Illario. I try to source all my assertions from what the text is giving me. This is not Lucanis critical nor should it be taken as such.

Despite his earlier jab, Lucanis had to admit, if only to himself, that his cousin looked at home among the local gentry. Illario winked at strangers as if they'd known each other for years, and the Vints were either too drunk or thought him too attractive to question his familiarity.

Starting off strong this time! As Lucanis circles from the roof, we get a chance to see Illario shine and Lucanis's perspective of it. This is actually one of the kinder remarks we've received so far irt: Illario's abilities. And we get more!

We watch as Illario takes the guard-captain's drink and downs it and somehow charms his way into getting her attention. This next passage actually expands on how Lucanis feels about Illario's work.

Lucanis groaned—not only at the line, but that it worked. Even from his position, he could see Camille was hooked. He shouldn't be surprised. This was old hat for Illario. But it was always amazing to see what one man's smile could accomplish.

This is one of my favorite passages re: examining their dynamic. It's some of the ostensibly kinder narrative we see from Lucanis towards Illario and it is exclusively aimed at praising his skills with seduction.

Illario goes on to deftly remove the key ring from the captain and give get it on track towards Lucanis via a waiter's tray. In his hurry to swipe the keys, Lucanis thinks as to why Illario couldn't have just held onto them? ← Fair enough I suppose he could've before extricating himself to join you.

One could argue that he's keeping the captain at bay and that the longer the keys are on his person the more risky it is, but that's me writing a defense not entirely based in the text so let's keep moving.

Lucanis pulls off some fun acrobatics and gets inside with the keys. I'm going to be brushing over details that aren't directly about the Lucanis/Illario relationship or that aren't particularly relevant to Lucanis's characterization in that context. Everyone cool with that? Cool, let's go.

Lucanis thought about securing the entrance—leaving it unlocked could raise suspicion—but decided not to in case Illario decided to work tonight. He could already hear his cousin's honeyed excuses—(But seducing a beautiful woman is work!) He snorted and pushed further inside.

All I wrote down in my notes here is "And yet dismissive? He got you the keys!" so that's all I'll say on that. I'm not sure how Lucanis ever feels at any given time about Illario's skills… he got you inside and is distracting the guard-captain. This does imply that Lucanis does not see that as 'work'—only the killing seems to count as work to him.

I'm also very obsessed with Lucanis's observations about the estate itself. He remarks on how similar it is to a Chantry(!) and that the opulence must have been costly in terms of coin and slave labor. He considers the ones that were blinded by gilding or broken backs from working with the stone.

"There was patriotism and there was obsession. Neither was worth it." ← really obsessed with this. It just isn't the sort of thought process that I predict a Crow is supposed to have whilst working through a job. (It also makes me wonder what he thinks of Teia's patriotism re: the Crows in Veilguard?)

"He had a rule when hunting Venatori. Follow the headache." ← Again I would have liked to have seen more of his sensitivity in Veilguard; someone pointed out that Spite took precedence over Lucanis's abilities and while understandable… rah.

That stupid fucking Crow rhyme. Goddammit. Okay brushing past the fight scene—all I'll say here is I actually do really enjoy the use of the garrote. It's a really impressive scene that highlights Lucanis's skills in quickly eliminating enemies while outnumbered, and I also have to give authorial credit because fight scenes are hard to write and keep entertaining.

"Eight marks the final kill. Do you still recite that old nursery rhyme? The one Caterina made us memorize during training?" ← Insane question in this moment Illario. Insane. Did she beat that nursery rhyme into you too? Also the Crows have nursery rhymes?! I would love to hear more about who is teaching this to fledglings.

"What can I say? It's catchy." / "That's a word for it." ← I did have a note where I circled Illario's dialogue here and wrote "resentful?" but I'm not sure I stand by that coming across in the text now. I think it's just more teasingly morbid than anything lol

Lucanis narrowed his eyes. "Your tunic's rumpled." Illario flashed a sheepish grin. "You weren't the only one tussling with guards." "Tussling, huh?" Lucanis shook his head. "That's a word for it."

Really interesting here to me that Lucanis, despite having previously having made plenty of mental potshots about his abilities, doesn't seem to think too much about Illario getting comfortable with the captain. Maybe because he thinks it's expected of Illario?

Illario wrinkling his nose and asking to clean up the bodies <3 ooohhh pookie who hates getting messy ily sooo much. cutie patootie. okay sorry back on track.

"Leave it." "What? Out in the open?" "You bring a mop?" Illario glowered at him. "No, but you've half an armory stored in that coat. I thought maybe—"

I really want to know what Illario thought Lucanis could've possibly brought for the express purpose of cleaning up bodies. IN Lucanis's defense I too would've made a snarky remark about a mop.

Oop! Elven woman walks in on them. I'm gonna pause it there because the next interactions between them are really important and will take up so much more space and time to go over.

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

[ruins-of-tragedy]

Will be actually watching RWBY instead of just keeping tabs on it 'cause I need a new personality for the foreseeable future.

Thoughts on the first trailers ahead...

- "Summer Rose: Thus Kindly I Scatter." That's a nice thing to have on one's memorial stone. Especially if you get cremated. Or in this case, can turn into flowers am guessing.

Red (Riding Hood):

- I too want to disappear in a flurry of roses.

- The lyrics of the song playing here give glimpses of Weiss, Blake and Yang... "White is cold and always yearning, burdened by a royal test. Black the beast descends from shadows. Yellow beauty burns... gold." NOICE!!!

- Blood turning into rose petals is a nice touch.

- The music here is making me want to go on a medieval adventure.

- The fuck. A gun that can turn into a scythe too?! 🤯❤️‍🔥👏🏻

- Ruby killing wolves when she is supposed to be inspired from Little Red Riding Hood makes me happy.

- Holy hell. Badass two-in-one weapon being wielded badassedly.

- The background score used had such a haunting quality to it. Much kudos to the people behind the piece.

White (Snow):

- I love that it starts with a quote. And a good one at that. Gods, am already falling.

- The Schnee are in total three siblings, if I remember right. When Weiss is singing, it begins with one shadow. Then two. Followed by there being three lights on her, and it gives the stage three folks beneath her own self. Am I reading too much into it?

- Weiss fighting a big knight-like figure. Snow White is delivered to the jungle by a soldier. Perhaps I am forcing the parallel, but I like it.

- The song in this one is giving me chills. Amazeballs.

- Okay, the fade to black got me for a second. I thought it would end here.

- Weiss really be regal elegance personified. Her fighting style is so put-together. That bitch-slap from the giant knight really drove it in.

- Her sword has colourful modes of varying prowess. Probably not queer coded but that won't stop me. ✨🌈💖

- The stepping bases Weiss makes out of thin air, are they snowflakes?! The designs on them look so intricate. WoWie.

- Huh. I thought the mark on her left eye was an injury bleeding. Apparently not. Whoa.

Black (And the Beast):

- This one also has a quote. Which makes sense 'cause she be very well read from what I have heard. I don't know why, but I think Yang's trailer won't have an opening line like this. Or if there is one, it would be something funny.

- The setting is extra beautiful here. Red trees. Ugh. Really does something for my brain.

- Oh my Gods. Blake turned to the guy and said okay and now I must protect her at all costs. Am sure she can do it herself, but still.

- Holy hell. The hilt of her sword can turn into a lasso gun?! Brilliant.

- So this is Adam. His katana-like weapon is the only thing I want of his. And maybe his shoes. And pants. And mask. And jacket without the embellishments. And shirt. And hair... Fuck. I will just kill him to get them all. 😤😈😶‍🌫️

- Already proving he don't deserve the good swag. The way he says he will set the charges... Doesn't inspire a lot of confidence. The crew members didn't do anything wrong. Thank you Blake for thinking of them.

- She looks to the side sadly and it makes me wonder if this isn't the first time such a conversation happened.

- Also, two different songs play for Blake's trailer. Both are awesome. And the second one feels like it's supposed to be for the Faunus species.

- Adam may look good, but the heart within is ghastly. That is why he is the beast who got left behind. YAYYYYYY!

Yellow (Goldilocks):

- Holy shite. Yang's quote hits the hardest for me somehow. I was so wrong and yet so happy about it.

- So this is the famous motorcycle am assuming. Coolio. It's making me want to learn how to ride a bike just so I could work this beauty. 🤩🤌🏻🫂

- Little umbrellas are one of the best things in life. I approve.

- "You can call me sir." And she has him follow through... Oh my Gods. I want to be her but since that's not possible, I want her to teach me her ways.

- Yang uses gauntlets for hand to hand combat which double as bullet shooters. And the way she reloads them... can she get any better?!

- Also, Junior is the bear. And is it just me or do Miltia and Melanie look like Ruby and Weiss wannabes?

- Yang's trailer is the culmination of all the songs used in the ones before, and then we hear hers... It's making me feel things.

- Super Saiyyan. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! And her eyes turned red. Huh.

- Aye, we meet again. Ruby and Yang truly are siblings... "It's a long story." LoLLL! She will probably tell her what went down later. Keep the might of her legend alive.

The fight scenes are well-executed. The music is immaculate. The moon appears to be breaking into pieces. I am ready.

(Follow in the footsteps of my parents and refrain from spoiling me!

Also, someone should gift yours truly all of the weapons from this show. Pwease. And thank you.)

[tabsters]

wiege observations - part 1 (because of tumblr's 30 image limit)

part 2 here

first of all:

WHAT ON GOD'S FUCKING EARTH DOES THIS IMPLY???? does it mean that the luka we know killed all the other lukas??? it looks like he hit a switch of some sort, causing all the other lukas to spill out of their pods and presumably die. we've all been saying that the other lukas died because they weren't perfect enough, but what if they were killed accidentally, by our luka's negligence? there's also green shit all over them, someone said that could be alien blood, so what's the implication there? does hepuru have something to do with them all dying as well?

these shots were beautiful. I love hyuna. and it shows her reminiscing about the times she spent in anakt.

edit: someone said that the top image is her with the rebellion members. she's smiling in the first one, because she cares about her fellow escaped humans, but she'll always value the time she spent with luka more.

this is depressing. it's already probably been stated, but this is the only way luka can ever see or touch hyuna after she went rogue.

people have also already said that this means that originally, sua had the black dress and mizi had the white one. does this mean that the aliens originally thought that mizi would look better in white because white = innocence and mizi is the most innocent anakt contestant? and then does that mean mizi gave sua the white dress because white = holiness and sua is her god?

also been said, till is spray painting his shirt because he's a rebel and he always does things his own way.

this is presumably after hyunwoo dies. hyuna is obviously in shock and she's crying about hyunwoo's death. but luka is happy. he's happy that he now gets all of hyuna's attention, that he can be the ruler of her heart the way she rules his heart.

this is a picture presumably drawn by hyuna, given how only she and hyunwoo have eyes, and how she's the only one who has a mouth. however, an interesting thing to think about is that this could be a callback to this:

notice how hyuna is the only one who has her eyes and mouth uncovered. hyunwoo has his mouth scribbled through, while luka doesn't have a face at all. this could imply that luka was actually the one that drew this picture.

what's interesting about these photos is that this shows that human connection wasn't just limited to our main six. there were humans all over, in the slums and anakt, connecting with each other and finding the reasons to live in each other. and I think that's beautiful.

THE FUCKING XYLOPHONE.

as @hoisinblackcat pointed out, that is chu chu from revolutionary girl utena. if you're a mizisua enjoyer, go watch revolutionary girl utena.

as many people have pointed out as well, THEY WERE MARRIED IN ANOTHER LIFE.

what is bro doing. is he doing karaoke. get it till.

this picture is a callback to this one picture at the very beginning, in round one:

this implies that mizi took the fish out of water to keep as a pet, and then it died.

4NAKT. I love 4NAKT. this is my new wallpaper. this is also a callback to the one alien from round 3 and round 6:

now, this interesting to me because what I immediately thought of when I saw this alien was Cerberus, the three headed dog to the underworld in greek mythology. this could imply that this alien serves as a guard for anakt, making sure that no kids escape. however, Cerberus has three heads. this alien could have three heads, but only two are picturesd. however, there is also a two headed dog in greek mythology named orthrus. what did orthrus do? guarded cattle. yet another reference to how humans just animals in the eyes of the segyein.

now, this scene. it has a possibility to be connected to this scene:

where there is AN ENORMOUS FUCKING BEETLE ON LUKA'S HEAD. I think this is the direct reason for why luka killed hyunwoo, hyunwoo hit luka on the head to kill the beetle, luka hit him back because he didn't understand what was going on, hyunwoo's head got smashed into a rock, and luka smiles and goes "oh well, less competition for hyuna's love."

what the fuck is this. is luka looking at even more clones of himself. but these guys look taller. what the fuck.

mizi's still crying over till's death. hyuna's still injured. IVAN, TILL, AND HYUNA ALL DIED ON THE EXACT SAME DAY. WHAT IF I DIED.

anyway post 2 coming soon because I decided this was more important than AP precalculus.

[lycheeloving]

Second chapter!! Happy Valentine's day <3

Bruce finds you at work and doesn't leave you alone.

< first chapter

The next day at work, it all feels like a fever dream. Did you really meet Bruce Wayne? And talk to him all night? You feel a bit nauseous just thinking about it, but you just remind yourself that you'll never see him again. Even if you did get along really well...

Whatever, you'll just daydream about kissing him in the moonlight, that's just as fun as the real thing, right? Not that you could compare it to the real thing,  you'd have to kiss someone at some point to know what it's like.

Maybe you should have kissed Bruce yesterday, he certainly seemed like he would have been ok with that, but that was probably just wishful thinking anyways. Oh well, too late now.

The bell that lets you know somebody entered the store rings and rips you out of your thoughts. Fuck. You hate when there's costumers, which is why you chose to work at the shittiest bookstore in Gotham. And are hiding in the back.

You're supposed to say something like "I'll be right with you!", but you're not going to do that. You hate talking loudly. Especially to strangers, especially when you can't even see them. But you never even say anything when you're out in the front and making direct eye contact with them, so whatever. You just hope they won't ask you for help with finding anything, just having to ring them up is bad enough...

Why do you have to get costumers at all? Fuck, you should really look for a job with less contact to people, but this is the best you've been able to find so far.

You reluctantly leave the safety of the back room, only to find a guy in an oversized hoodie and sunglasses absolutely beaming at you. Why is he looking at you like that? Should you know him?

Only when he takes the sunglasses off do you realize that it's Bruce. No way, how did he find you? You feel your palms getting sweaty.

"Finally! I found you! Do you know how hard it was to find this book store with the minimal description you gave me?" 

Not hard enough, apparently, considering that he was able to find you this soon. It hasn't even been a full day!

He's still smiling at you. "I've been to multiple book stores this morning! I'm so glad you told me you'd be working today, or I would have had to ask everyone if you're one of their coworkers!"

"Yeah, well, if I had wanted you to show up here, I would have given you more details, probably." You deadpan, hoping your voice isn't shaking.

He's not deterred, he just keeps talking as if you hadn't said anything: "Wanna get lunch with me? When's your break? We could go to that café around the corner that I saw on my way here!"

Is he not getting that you don't want him here? Well, you do want him here, but you don't. You want him to think you don't want him here so he'll leave before you can embarrass yourself.

"I can't leave for my break, I have to stay here. I'm the only one working right now, I can't just- just lock up and get something to eat." Your boss actually allowed you to do just that, but when you came back from doing it the first time, an angry costumer was waiting for you and yelled at you for 10 minutes about how it's rude to just close the store in the middle of the day. You don't want a repeat of that, so you started eating your lunch at work whenever there were no costumers. Which is almost always, luckily.

"I could go get you something and we can eat here! It doesn't seem like you get a lot of costumers so we won't even be disturbing anyone!" Why is he so persistent? Can't he go talk to some supermodel or something?

"I'm not hungry." You kind of are, actually.

"That's fine, we can just talk! I just wanted to spend some time with you. You know, I haven't clicked with anyone like this in a long time, I couldn't just let you go."

Wait, is he serious? Well, why else would he go through the effort of looking for you... But still, you can't quite believe it. Are you being pranked?

"You should go. What if costumers start showing up? I'm sure you don't want some weird fan to recognize you."

Bruce ignores what you say and stays. He talks to you for about half an hour, well, mostly he talks at you, until he has to leave because his lunch break is over. You just stand there, perplexed. Does he really want to hang out with you?

He returns the next day. And the next. And the next. Every day, always during his lunch break. It takes a few times until you stop trying to ignore him, a few more times until you start actually talking to him, and a few more times until you agree to eat lunch with him. Not go anywhere else, just eat your own lunch at the bookstore.

You can't stop yourself from trying to push him away a little bit, though.

You put down your fork. "You know, it's rude of you to keep visiting me at work, where I can't just leave. This is basically harassment."

"If you want me to go, I'll go. Just say so, and I'll never show up here again, I promise."

You don't want him to leave. Well, you do, because you don't want to get even more attached, but you don't, because, well, you're getting attached. You can't bring yourself to make him leave.

You huff and roll your eyes. "Whatever." You pick your fork back up and continue eating.

He tries to suppress a smile. Gross. He's so cute.

Whenever he catches you playing a silly game on your phone (which is basically every time he enters the store, as you love slacking off), he insists on befriending you on it if possible, so when you're not hanging out he'll send you a booster on your candy-crush-esque game, or play against you on a quiz app.

Sometimes he uses the chat option there to tell you to go to sleep when it's late and he catches you playing, even though he's obviously awake as well! Hypocrite. It makes you smile every time. 

One day while you're eating lunch together, a few months after he first showed up, he puts down his fork and says: "I think I need to make this more clear. I am interested in you romantically. I want to date you."

You almost spit out your lunch, but manage to swallow it without choking. "H- Wh- Huh? What?"

"We can just be friends, I'd love to be friends, we already are friends, in my opinion, but I would also love to date you. So if one day you decide that you want to date me, please let me know."

You already want to, but you will absolutely not be informing him of that, thanks. Asking for what you want? What are you, a well adjusted person? You blink owlishly at him instead of saying anything. That should suffice as a response, right? No, you should probably say something.

"...Look, even if I was interested in dating you—", which, again, you literally are, but why would you tell him that;

"—you're famous, and at some point it would come out that I was dating you, and the paparazzi would publish one single picture of me and I'd immediately panic so hard I would pass out and die. This—" You point your fork between the two of you. "—is already risky enough. Whatever this is, anyway."

Bruce, as always, chooses not to address the parts of what you were saying that were clearly your anxiety speaking and simply grins.

"So you do want to date me? It sounds to me like you're just looking for excuses. Don't worry, if I don't want anyone to know about you, noone will! People don't tend to recognize me when I'm not wearing a suit, especially in environments where they're not expecting me, so anywhere outside of my workplace and fancy parties. It's worked so far, hasn't it? Not a single person has recognized me here! Dating won't change that. So, if you do want to go on a date with me, just say the word. Please."

What word? Wait, he means that metaphorically, right? No, but seriously, what would you say, how would you say that without sounding totally weird?

"That's not what I was saying. At all. Stop misinterpreting me." You roll your eyes at him. He changes the topic, but he keeps smiling until he has to leave.

Lying awake that night, you think about what he said. Does he actually like you? Or is he just pretending, because he likes a challenge? Knew you'd be difficult to get close to, and he gets a kick from being someone's first relationship, kiss, everything, and then leaving them? You feel nauseous and you suddenly feel cold. How are you supposed to figure this out? You try to tell yourself that it's only your anxiety speaking, that Bruce is actually a nice person and wouldn't do that, but you can't quite convince yourself.

The next day, your way home after work (and after pretending your conversation with Bruce yesterday didn't happen, which luckily he played along with), you see something on the ground that reflects the light in a way that catches your eye.

What is that? It's kind of hidden behind a trash can.

You take a step closer, hoping it's not some kind of trap, but you can't think of a villain who would hide shiny things on the floor to kill civilians. At least not in that color, the Joker would make it colorful, and this object appears to be... black?

Oh, it's a Batarang! You've never seen one up close, but they can't be super rare with how often people online post about having found one, there's even one guy who collects them and has an entire wall plastered with them. Allegedly. People online are saying that most of them are probably replicas, but you can't tell, as you've never seen a real one. Until now.

That makes you think, just how many Batarangs does Batman have? More than enough if he let's random people keep them. You think about picking it up and taking it with you. It would be really cool to have a Batarang...

You reach out towards it, but stop right before you touch it. Is it stuck in the floor? Fuck, just how sharp are those things...?

Maybe you should leave it here, you'd just cut your hand open on it, trying to get it unstuck.

Plus, maybe Batman will find this one if you leave it here, and then re-use it! Reduce, re-use, recycle, Batman!

You leave it where you found it, after taking a few pictures of it as proof.

The next day, Bruce asks you if you did anything interesting yesterday, like he does every time he sees you. Usually you'd say no, but you did find that Batarang... Would Bruce care about that?

While you're contemplating, Bruce says: "You'd have said no by now if nothing had happened! Come on, please tell me?"

Fine! Whatever! You'll tell him, even if he'll probably think it's boring.

"Ok, so, on my way home yesterday... I found a Batarang. And, um, it got me thinking, well, first of all, how many of those does that guy have? If he's just leaving them lying around like that, right? Oh, and, it was so sharp, it was stuck in the floor, though I guess maybe that just means Batman is really strong? Either way, I thought he doesn't kill, right, but considering what he's working with it's a miracle no criminal has ended up dead yet, right?" You stop rambling, realizing that Bruce hasn't said anything yet. At least he appears to be amused.

"You have a lot of thoughts about Batman, huh?" He grins. "Yeah, he must have tons of those things, I've seen the posts. Did you take it with you?" He didn't respond to your killing thoughts... Oh well, you did give him a lot of information all at once.

"No, I didn't... But I thought about it! I mean, it seems like that's what everyone else is doing, but with it being stuck in the floor like that I was worried I would cut my hand open trying to get it unstuck! And with my luck there would have been germs or poison on it and my wound would have gotten infected, like, immediately, and I would have died. So I left it there for Batman to hopefully find again. I mean, he should probably be reusing the ones he already has, right? Reduce, reuse, recycle, I'm just helping Batman be more climate friendly!" There you go, rambling again.

Bruce seems almost too amused at all of this.

"Well, do you want it? I can come with you when your shift is over and help you get it unstuck, if you want. If nobody else has already taken it. I'm sure Batman won't mind. And if it ever comes out that he's not trying his best to be climate friendly, I'll personally go kick his ass, I promise."

"Uh. Um. You don't have to do that!"

"...Kick his ass or go get the batarang for you?"

"I meant getting the batarang, but also please don't fight Batman. He'd wipe the floor with you. No offense."

"Well, first of all, I think I'm just as strong as Batman-" You roll your eyes at him. Dork.

"And second of all, I don't have to get it for you, but I want to. Please let me?"

Ok. Fuck. Whatever. This is the first time you'll be seeing him outside of work, excluding your first meeting.

"Uh. Ok? I, um, my shift ends at 8."

"I'll pick you up in front of the store, then. It's a date!"

"Uh! No, well, yes, but, it- um-"

"I'm just teasing you." He winks at you. Winks! Is he trying to kill you? You turn your face towards your food so you don't have to look at him. Asshole. Stop being so hot.

Later, at 8, he's already waiting for you in front of the store while you're locking up.

"Ready to go?" He smiles.

"Uh, yeah! Sure!"

You start leading the way to where you found the batarang, talking about whatever comes to mind on the way.

Finally, about halfway on your way home, you reach the place where the batarang should be. You hope it's still there, but somebody else could have taken it. You push the trashcan it was behind to the side, and...

There it is!

"Look, it's still here!" You turn around to Bruce, smiling. He smiles back. You fight the urge to giggle or hide your face behind your hands, he needs to stop being so cute.

"Didn't you say it's stuck in the ground? Why wouldn't it be here anymore?"

"Uh, you said you'd help me get it out? Somebody else could have done the same thing!"

"Right. But they don't have my getting batarangs unstuck from the ground skills."

You roll your eyes. How often could Bruce have come in contact with a batarang? His only advantage compared to you is that he's stronger and not afraid of cutting his hand open. At least that's what you think.

You watch as he grabs the batarang and gets it unstuck in seconds. Seriously? It was that easy?

"Woah. I think I would have been able to do that myself, that looked super easy. Sorry to have made you come all this way..." Apparently it wasn't stuck in there as much as you thought? Even if a considerable part of it disappeared beneath the ground. Hm. Weird. Maybe there was a batarang shaped hole there before it landed there? Or Bruce is just a lot stronger than he looks.

"No, I'm glad I came along! I wouldn't have wanted you to cut yourself accidentally." He wraps the batarang in a piece of fabric. Some kind of rich people tissue, maybe.

"Let me carry it home for you?" He looks at you in a way that makes you melt a little bit. Ok, fine.

"Oh, uh, sure!" You did enjoy walking around with him. And not just because walking with someone in Gotham is safer than doing it alone.

"Also we could maybe order dinner? And eat together at your place?" And let him into your apartment that's not cleaned up? That looks shitty even when it is cleaned up?

"Don't push it."

"Or we could go somewhere? I'll pay, of course."

And absolutely embarrass yourself and make him never want to see you again and talk about you to journalists that you're a horrible person, which gets published in every newspaper ever so you have to move and change your name? Ok, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

Bruce can clearly see the anxiety on your face.

"It doesn't have to be a date, if you don't want that."

Be brave! Be brave! You can do this!

"Uh." You almost choke on your words. "And... if I do... want that...?"

You might actually pass out, this is horrible. If he doesn't respond in less than a second, your flight response is going to win and you'll run away. And quit your job, so he can't find you again.

"That would be wonderful! We can take it slow, ok? Absolutely no pressure to do anything you don't want to do whatsoever, I promise."

You nod, not feeling brave enough to say anything. Maybe those were your last words ever.

"So... Dinner at your place? As a date?"

You nod again. Shit, fuck. Are you actually going to date Bruce Wayne? What were you thinking? Wait, does going on one date even mean you're 'dating' him? What's the definition here?

You start walking again, leading Bruce to where you live. If he hates your apartment and leaves and you never see him again that's fine and you'll be able to handle it, right? But that won't happen, so calm down. But if it did happen, you'll be fine and ok and fine. It's fine! Oh fuck, what if you misunderstood him? Did he even mean dinner tonight? Are you embarrassing yourself by assuming he'll come with you right now?

Bruce walks right beside you and starts talking again.

"I'll order. What do you want?" While saying this, he puts an arm around your shoulder. You tense. Woah.

"You said you'd take it slow!" Look at that, you can talk again.

"Too much?" Yes. But also no. But yes. But no.

"I don't know! Maybe?" He takes his arm away and you can breathe again, but somehow at the same time you miss his warmth.

"Don't worry, I'll take it so slow. The slowest. You won't regret dating me, I promise. This'll be so much fun, you'll see." He smiles.

You don't know about that, but you do know that at the very least it'll be interesting. You hope he won't notice you looking up what the definition of dating is on your phone while he's ordering food later.

[heylittleriotact]

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤-𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤.

Here's an ao3 link because apparently we're still not auto-formatting

Two Weeks Later

Rook nibbled at her lip and sat up straighter to get a better view of the curb. Parking was a bit trickier on side streets once the windrows of melted and refrozen snow and ice started accumulating, but she managed to negotiate the uneven surface, pulling up alongside the curb and putting the car in park. “Am I good?”

Emmrich opened the passenger side door and glanced down. “Perfect - about five inches from the curb. Well done!” He closed the door and Rook set the parking brake, then cut the ignition. 

“Thanks Emmrich - I really appreciate you letting me do this.” 

For the past week he’d been letting Rook use his car after work to practice driving in preparation for attempting her road test. Practice, being the vital operative to their arrangement: Emmrich wasn’t actually teaching her anything, because as she had been brutally quick to point out when he initially floated this idea to her that: ‘I don’t need you to teach me anything: I already know how to fucking drive, Emmrich. I did the in-car lessons and everything when I was 17, I just never actually got around to doing my test.’

So ‘practice’ she did, and thankfully she hadn’t crashed his car yet. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, unable to keep the smile from his face: her long black hair fell in soft, shiny waves around her face and over her shoulders today, and she looked very pretty under the streetlights outside of her apartment. 

“Good! I feel like I’m getting more confident each time, which is what I need, honestly. I think I should be ready to try my test soon - I’m thinking after Wintersend is a reasonable goal.”

Wintersend was five weeks out. 

That meant at least five more weeks of practicing with Rook.

His heart leapt at the thought. There was no denying that he looked forward to their time together each day, and he genuinely missed it when they couldn’t get together due to one or both of them having days off, or an evening cropped up where he was scheduled on a visitation or prayer service. 

He’d only managed to falsify excuses to avoid being alone with her for a week after Mrs. Gardner’s funeral. Only had it in him to come up with reasons why he couldn’t drive her home for a few days until finally he could no longer resist the self-serving appetite to be in her company, and resumed offering. On days he couldn’t drive her home, he always made a point of texting her to make sure she arrived safely, because again: any occasion in which he had a convenient reason to converse with her was a happy one.

She slipped off her seatbelt and put her hand on the door handle, pausing for a moment as if she wanted to say something, but clearly thinking better of it before opening the door and stepping out of the car. 

Taking this as his cue to get back in the driver’s seat and head home for the night, Emmrich got out too, walking around the back of the car until he was on the driver’s side. 

Rook hadn’t moved. She was just standing there, clutching the open door of his white Audi like she might fall if she let go.

“Rook?” He inched closer, concern piercing through the ever-present haze of infatuation that lingered in his head these days.

Her eyes drifted to her hand on the door, her face set in an uncharacteristic look of consternation before her gaze met his. 

Then she let go of the door and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in her chest as she squeezed him tightly.

“Thanks,” she said, voice somewhat muffled as he attempted to come to grips with what was happening.

He was just about to return the unexpected embrace when she released him suddenly, parting from him only for a second before she stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his - a quick, impulsive connection that made his stomach bottom out. 

Then she was looking up at him again: she was tall, but he was taller than most people. 

Her gray eyes that reminded him so much of the cleansing summer storms that rolled across the plains during the dog days of summer searched his, though she remained silent.

The dwindling warmth left by her lips on his punctuated the continuance of time as he stared at her, his mind reeling.

Her fingers curled around the knot of his tie, and the warmth returned when she dragged him down and crushed her mouth against his, her sweet soft tongue sweeping past his lips, brushing hungrily against his and tasting him with a desperation that caught him off guard.

His mind stopped reeling and immediately went blank instead. He leaned into the kiss, returning her enthusiasm, one arm snaking around her waist, the other slamming onto the roof of the car, bracing them both, as her hand relinquished his tie to palm the side of his face.

She wanted him. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her…

Their teeth bumped, and she kissed him harder, biting down gently on his lower lip before pulling away only enough to breathe, “I need you to fuck me, Emmrich.”

Certainly. He could absolutely acquiesce to that. His mind was all but consumed with sinful thoughts of fucking her lately: this would pose no inconvenience. 

The journey from the car into the warm lobby of her apartment building was a blur, as was the time it took to climb the stairs to whichever floor she lived on. And then he was kissing her again, even as she closed and locked the door behind them, then dragged him down the hallway to the bedroom, leaving her coat in a heap on the floor, tugging his suit jacket from his shoulders and down his arms, discarding it with the same exhilarating carelessness.

Then there was a soft bed beneath them, their hands frantically wandering, squeezing, and groping as they undressed each other with little pretense or ceremony: his tie was loosened and yanked over his head before it vanished into the comforting dimness of her room. Her shirt was hauled up over the perfect tits he had been fixated on since the day she sent that cheeky photo to him, and he filled his hand with one, plunging under her dark blue bra while her fingers darted between the buttons of his waistcoat and his belt-buckle, seemingly unsure of which article of clothing she wished to do away with first. 

She eventually seemed to settle on his pants, conquering the belt with his assistance, and slipping loose the button, then the zipper that were concealing his throbbing cock. She slipped him free from the confines of his underwear, stroking him with a keen urgency that made him buck into her hand as he undid her jeans with one hand and yanked them down over her ass along with her panties. 

Not wanting another second to go by without being inside of her, he lined himself up and thrust into her sodden core, his hands finding her beautiful, tattooed wrists.

“Ohhhh - Emmrich… fuck!” She groaned, looking up from under him, her black hair splashed over the red sheets like it had been in that perfectly scandalous picture.

He claimed her lips once more, swallowing her moans as he took her with a instinctive hunger he did not know he was capable of - filling her tight, soft pussy; feeling every inch of her as she clenched and flexed around him before withdrawing and slamming back into her sopping heat, the lewd sounds of their frenzied tempo filling the room. 

“You feel just as amazing as I… as I knew you would,” she panted, squirming against him and palming his ass with one hand, urging him deeper - harder. “You feel so fucking good,” she whined through clenched teeth, managing to wriggle free from her jeans and drawing her knees towards herself, opening further for him. “Fuck me hard, Emmrich - fuck me the way you’ve wanted to fuck me since you met me...”

He was about to do exactly that… but then his phone rang. 

That awful, evil, damnable Marimba tone that in that exact moment made him feel positively murderous.

His eyes snapped open. The dream vanished.

The Marimba did not. 

Disoriented, blinking into the darkness, he grasped for the phone on his nightstand, picking it up with an anguished groan.

‘Call-Center, McDermott & Rafferty’ said the name on the call display. The time in the upper left corner was 2:17.

He slid his thumb over the screen to answer the call and flipped his legs over the edge of the bed, the sheets still covering his leaking, rock hard cock. “Hello, this is Emmrich.” He put on his most professional voice - certainly not the cadence of one who was just dreaming about being balls deep in a coworker. 

“Hey Emmrich,” came the familiar voice of the overnight receptionist, Jen. “Got a first call on the line. Vital stats are done. It’s for Mr. Phillip DeSouza - he passed away at Crystal Grace Hospital, we have permission to transfer him into our care, and his son, Gio is on the line and wants to talk to a funeral director.”

Emmrich took a deep, grounding breath he hoped that Jen couldn’t hear. “Thank you Jen, you can put him through.” 

He took the call, answered Gio’s questions with the appropriate amount of compassion and kindness befitting someone who had just lost their father, booked an appointment to meet for arrangements the following morning, and put the phone down when he was done, drawing both hands over his face, raking his fingers through his sweaty, untamed hair as his cock continued to throb insistently, clearly not interested in calming down despite the early hour.

Sighing, he reached for the phone again, opened his messages and found the ongoing exchange he had with Rook. 

The most recent messages were from earlier this evening. She had said ‘Thanks for the parallel parking brush-up - it’s fucking crazy to me that you can do that with a hearse no problem lol’. He had said ‘It’ll be second nature in no time’ and even dared to tack on a smiley-face. 

He could probably text her now and get a reply: even when she wasn’t out on the town with her friends, she was a self-proclaimed night-owl and by her admission she rarely went to bed before three. 

He tapped the message field and the keyboard popped up. 

But what would he say? ‘Hello Rook, I just took a call from a family with a raging hard-on because I was in the middle of an exceptionally vivid dream of having sex with you when the phone rang. How is your evening going?’

Hardly palatable late-night conversation between professionals…

He tapped out of the message and scrolled up and up and up until he found the picture she’d sent him: he couldn’t bring himself to save it to his device. If he did that it would be admitting something he wasn’t yet ready to admit.

There she was, crash-landed on the dark red pillow like she had been in his dream. Snarling up at him defiantly - daring him… taunting him as if this static image of her from weeks earlier knew exactly what he had been dreaming about minutes earlier. 

He grasped his cock and imagined her pale fingers around him instead of his own. Lost himself in the quirk of her plump lips and the delectable fantasy of them wrapped around him; her perfectly white teeth scraping gently up his shaft before she took him until he hit the back of her tight throat.

It was far from the first time he’d jerked off to this particular photo, and it was unlikely to be the last at this rate. 

Breathing heavily into the darkness he worked his cock feverishly, giving himself over completely to the image of Rook and the intoxicating hold she had on him.

His balls tightened, pressure reaching its breaking point deep within, and with a shuddering gasp he spilled into his hand, feeling the heat of his cum as it dripped onto the sheets and ran down between his legs, moaning softly as his movements slowed and then finally ceased. 

Down the hallway he could hear the telltale warble of Manfred, followed shortly by rhythmic wheezing and a wet ‘splat’ as the cat ejected a surely massive hairball onto the floor.  

His timing was as impeccable as ever.

“-So instead of spending your break or your lunch scrolling through your phones, we’d really like to see you socialize: talk to each other.” 

Rook had to actively force herself not to roll her eyes at the ludicrous imposition put forth by Derek: the audacity it took to think that he had the authority to tell any of them what to do with their time during their unpaid breaks was astounding. 

Asshole. 

Why was it that every Derek she’d ever met (only two, to be fair) turned out to be a massive prick? 

She felt the tingle of someone’s eyes on her, and Rook stopped regarding Derek with an expression of subtle disgust to look across the huge lunch room table, meeting Emmrich’s gaze in time to see the corner of his mouth curve slightly upwards. 

He looked tired: the dark circles around his eyes were darker than usual. He must not have slept well, she decided, though despite that he looked as put-together and handsome as always. 

Her heart skipped in her chest, and whatever Derek was droning on about at the weekly staff meeting no longer mattered.

Did he have any idea? The slightest inkling of what that sweet, clever smile did to her? 

She’d basically resigned herself at this point to the fact that she was smitten with Emmrich: she was no stranger to infatuation and the ferocity with which it would blow into her heart, ravaging her carefully crafted barriers and walls, laying waste to her various doubts and reservations until all that remained was a burning fixation - an all-encompassing curiosity that begged to be satisfied until she either bent to its will, or waited for it to run its course, letting it burn itself out until it was little more than smoldering ash. 

In this case, she’d just have to be content with the excuse of driving practice to scratch the itch until the urge to shove her tongue down Emmrich’s throat subsided in a month or two, and she could get back to fantasizing about someone else - a celebrity or something - when she got herself off. 

How many times had she wanted to test the waters? See if he would be interested in more than letting her drive his car? 

How many times had she talked herself out of it because there was no way someone like him would be into a train-wreck like her? 

Oooh, but she did rather like imagining him smiling like that at her from between her thighs…

Fuck… 

Her panties practically flooded at the very thought.

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Derek looked around the table, finally finished outlining his grand vision in which they were all best pals as well as colleagues. God she hated his stupid pink face and his stupid haircut that was identical to his father’s, except it was blonde instead of white.

“The RSVP deadline for the annual Wintersend Dinner is this Friday - if you haven’t already, please respond to the invitation that would have been sent to your personal email address and let us know if you plan to attend, and if you’re bringing a guest.” Myrna, making a rare appearance outside of the chapel in the south end of the city that she managed, tapped the end of her pen on the table as she spoke, looking about as interested in the prospect of the Wintersend party as she sounded. “It’s at a new venue this year, so you don’t want to miss it.” 

She looked like she wanted to miss it. 

Before she’d gone on maternity leave, Tessa had told Rook that the party the year before was a mess: the venue ran out of food and over a third of the staff in attendance either didn’t get dinner at all, or they got a very small portion. The only silver-lining to the night was that Tom Rafferty got especially into his cups and was buying drinks for anyone who so much as said ‘Happy Wintersend’ to him. 

Rook was still on the fence about going: she didn’t have anyone to bring with her, and she’d been to enough work parties over the years to know that she had little interest in getting drunk with or around the people she worked with. 

They didn’t need to know that side of her. 

She didn’t need to know that side of them. 

“Thanks Myrna,” Derek said, “I think that’s everything. Have a good week, everyone.” 

Rook pushed her chair back from the table and stood, picking up her coffee, ready to file out of the lunchroom with everyone else. 

“Rook.” 

She turned to see Derek pushing in his own chair, his pudgy, well-moisturized hands without a single callus on them gripped the back of it. “I need to speak with you. Meet me in the clergy office in five minutes, please.” There was no depth in the expression on his face: no genuine emotion on it. It was empty and unreadable like something that had been soullessly rendered by AI. 

Emmrich, having overheard this as he passed behind Derek, frowned at Rook from behind the future-owner. She shrugged one shoulder slightly to indicate she was just as confused as he was.

“Uh… yeah, of course,” she said, mind racing to try and figure out why the hell Derek would want to speak with her. Was she getting fired? Had a family finally complained about her? Had it been brought to management’s attention that Rook was actually a cantankerous cold bitch, and a terrible, terrible fit for a career that required patience, kindness, and the ability to pretend you weren’t fucking annoyed constantly? 

She slipped out of the lunch room, joining Emmrich as he climbed the stairs to the main level. 

“What does Derek want with you?” He asked. Ascending the narrow stairwell together put them in close proximity to one another, and Rook couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled today: grounded and earthy, like wet cedar and oakmoss.

“I have no idea, but I get the feeling it isn’t good,” she admitted, trying not to let nerves get the better of her: she’d tried so hard over the past four and a half months to be perfect. She still had a month and a half left of probation, and they could let her go for any reason until that six months was up…

Emmrich let her pass through the door at the top of the stairs first. He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly - such a small gesture, but one that made her stomach do backflips. “Try not to worry,” he said quietly so no one else in the hallway could hear. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Rook nodded, wanting to believe him. She couldn’t make her voice work, so she just nodded some more and then made her way to the clergy office, one door over from the main admin office. 

She sat down at the desk and resisted the urge to screw around on her phone till Derek showed up: if he wandered into the office and found her on her phone, he’d flip his shit.

Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long: Derek appeared in short order, closing the door behind him and sitting across from Rook, holding a pen and a sheet of paper - a termination letter?

Rook’s mouth felt dry.

“Sorry for interrupting your morning,” Derek began, folding his hands over the paper on the desk so she couldn’t make out what it said. “I won’t keep you long, Rook. I just wanted to chat with you about an urn you sold last week - the cloisonné for Mrs. Strickland?” 

Rook felt herself frown. “Uh… okay.”

“Let’s start with you walking me through exactly what your process was when you ordered the urn for her.”

“I don’t understand,” Rook said, her ears heating up. “Was there some sort of problem?”

“If you could just start with your process, please,” Derek insisted, his face the same placid expression of absolute nothingness as always - it was like it was supposed to be friendly and assuring, but it missed the mark completely and was just fucking creepy instead. This dude literally was the perfect image of the stereotypically creepy funeral director. 

“I… I… she came in - Mrs. Strickland - last week and said she wanted to buy a keepsake urn for a portion of her husband’s cremated remains,” Rook began, still completely at a loss, but taking care not to sound defensive or nervous. “I took her up to the selection room and showed her the urn catalogue as well as some of the actual samples we have up there. She was quite indecisive, but was especially drawn to the cloisonné urns - she just didn’t know which colour she liked more. I spent the better part of an hour with her, listening to her thoughts on the different colours as she weighed her choices, making suggestions or offering my opinion when she asked for it. 

“She wound up settling on the blue butterfly cloisonné because her husband had some sort of deep spiritual connection to the colour blue or something.” 

It had taken forever to get her to pick an urn, and Mrs. Strickland had that rich-bitch, Karen energy about her that implied that Rook should be thanking her lucky stars that she was so blessed to be the one helping the widow with this magnanimous undertaking. Honestly, she was awful to deal with, but Rook could at least try to chalk that up to grief and not a consistent personality trait.

“I brought the urn with me and took her to this exact office, actually, to finalize the purchase and take payment. Once that was done, I gave her a copy of the receipt, the urn catalogue, and then updated Mr. Strickland’s file with the purchase so I could email the arranging director and have them order the urn.”

“And you specifically meant to select the blue butterfly on the dropdown list in the file?” Derek inquired.

Yeah… that’s what I fucking said, right? I’m fucking sick of this dick jerking me around.

“Yes.”

Derek sighed and fidgeted with the pen in his hand. “Listen, Rook - you ordered the wrong urn. When Mrs. Strickland came back to pick it up, she said she’d actually ordered the brown butterfly cloisonné, and since Mr. Strickland’s remains were already placed in the blue one, we’ve had to charge it back to the yearly bonus because as you know, we don’t resell used merchandise.”

“What?!” Rook’s voice rose incredulously. “But I’m sure she wanted the blue one - I said the words ‘blue butterfly’ no less than thirty times - I even had it sitting here on the desk when she paid for it!”

“Sometimes we mishear or misunderstand when families ask us something,” Derek said in his sage, holier-than-thou tone that implied he’d pursued his solemn calling as a death-professional with stalwart passion his entire life, rather than fucking off years earlier and fooling around as an investment banker until he lost everything came crawling back to daddy and his business. “Which is why we’ve got to be really careful when we’re assisting them with these important and meaningful decisions: they might not seem like a big deal to you, but they’re huge to them - that woman just lost her husband.”

Her heart pounded in her ears as she reined in the desire to tell Derek where he could shove his arrogant, condescending bullshit.

“Perhaps you clicked the wrong urn on the dropdown menu and meant to click the brown one?” He suggested. He was trying to give her an out: a way to excuse the mistake that would reduce it to a careless mis-click rather than a blatant overlooking of a family’s wishes.

“I clicked the blue butterfly cloisonné and had it ordered because that’s what Mrs. Strickland told me she wanted,” she asserted, unwilling to admit to something she didn’t do - even if it might save her ass. “Perhaps she was confused and forgot that she ordered the blue one - I can only imagine she’s going through a lot right now.”

Derek’s lips pressed into a thin and rather disapproving line. “We can’t blame families for our own mistakes, Rook. That’s not fair.”

I didn’t make a fucking mistake, you asshat! That broad forgot which urn she ordered, and rather than admitting that, doubled down and insisted that we fucked up!

“I can tell you’re upset about this - that’s good. It means you won’t forget the lesson to be learned from it. You’re a great employee, and you do good work, Rook - we’re thrilled to have you on the team, but just try to be a little bit more attentive when you’re ordering merchandise for families, okay?” 

Fuck you, man.

He slid the piece of paper and the pen across the desk to Rook. 

McDermott & Rafferty - Chargeback Form, said the header at the top.

“This just outlines what we’ve talked about today, what you’ll do to avoid it in the future, and indicates the cost of the urn, which will be taken out of the shared company bonus.”

$210. Son of a bitch.

She didn’t want to sign it. Didn’t want to put her name on it because if she did, it meant that she was agreeing that this was her fault and she’d done something wrong when she knew she hadn’t.

But… she didn’t have a choice. 

She scribbled her signature on the bottom of the form and slid it back to Derek. “Can you please email me a copy of that?” She asked, keeping her voice amiable and professional. She’d learned the importance of keeping a paper-trail the last time she’d been unceremoniously canned from a job.

“You bet.” Derek said, signing off on the form as well. “Try not to take it too hard, Rook - we all make mistakes.” He set the pen down - oh lovely, he wanted to talk more. “Are you planning on attending the Wintersend party?” 

Her eyes meandered over the platinum wedding band on his left hand, and she immediately felt uneasy with the direction of this conversation.

“Haven’t decided yet. Maybe,” she said shortly, reverting to her defensive, guarded way of interacting with men she didn’t trust.

“Since it’s your first year with us, we’d love to see you there.”

We, he said, like there would be some sort of committee of McDermott & Rafferty employees eagerly wringing their hands the night of the party, hoping she’d make an appearance. 

“Yeah if I’m not busy that night, maybe,” she said again, standing up. “Am I free to go now? There are arrangements starting any minute that I need to help with.” 

“Of course, Rook.” Derek stayed seated, but she breezed past him towards the door anyway. “Have a good day.” 

“I’m driving us to a bar,” she announced hours later, looking over her shoulder and backing out of Emmrich’s parking space. “You can choose to leave me there and I’ll find my own way home after I’ve had a fucking well-deserved drink, or you can stay and have a well-deserved drink with me.”

She’d been in a mood for the rest of the day after her chat with Derek. Emmrich hadn’t needed to inquire what it was about: she’d texted him as soon as she was done and told him about the nightmare with the urn.

He felt for her: as far as chargebacks went, it was a particularly lazy one. Eating the cost of the urn wouldn’t have blown the bottom line of the business, and doing so would have avoided planting the seed of distrust in Rook’s mind that would almost surely take root and grow wild in time after more and more microaggressions and petty implications that she wasn’t good at her job: He’d seen it enough times in nearly thirty years.

“I’ll have a drink with you,” he said. “But you won’t be getting back behind the wheel this evening.” 

Rook’s learner’s license had a zero tolerance for alcohol condition. 

“Fine,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road as they exited the parking lot and she navigated towards her side of town.

The bar was a hole in the wall: a locally owned little place called Ray’s that occupied a spot in an old strip mall in between 7-11 and an adult store. The neon sign was half burnt out, and one of the windows had a large crack spider webbing across it from a central impact point as if someone had kicked or punched it. 

Not really the sort of place Emmrich regularly found himself, but he was hardly one to judge. 

“Just a moment, please,” he said when Rook went to get out of the car. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosened his tie pulling it up over his head and folding it carefully before depositing it in the glove compartment. Then he put his jacket in the back seat, very aware of how close the twist and stretch put him to Rook, who he noticed smelled like apples and magnolia and the freshly baked cookies that they served to families at arrangements.

He undid the top button of his shirt and said, “There we are - now we can carry on perpetuating the notion that funeral professionals cease to exist outside the walls of the funeral home, or the boundaries of the cemetery.” 

Staff of McDermott & Rafferty were not to be seen in places like bars with their uniforms or name tags on. They were not to take or distribute photographs of themselves in their uniforms either: the business was fiercely protective of the reputation of their brand, and Emmrich was aware of at least half a dozen staff over the past decade who had been fired without question for breaking that particular rule. Of course, all of them would have gotten away with their crimes if someone they worked with who didn’t like them for one reason or another hadn’t seen their social media postings and immediately ratted them out to management. Trusting people in this line of work was nothing short of a gamble, no matter how nice they seemed, hence why Emmrich didn’t have - nor would he ever have - a ‘Facebook’ or an ‘Instagram’.

The smell of bleach and stale beer hit his nose as soon as they got inside, and Emmrich followed Rook to a booth along the far wall: wood panelled, with mirrors spanning the wall above it. This place looked like it was untouched by time, frozen somewhere in the late 70s. 

Sitting across from Rook, he rolled up his sleeves and ordered a pint of whatever she was having from the server who approached them. 

He listened to her go off about her conversation with Derek, hands waving through the air, pausing occasionally to take a long drink from the rather skunky lager in front of her, while he occasionally sipped from his own. 

It’s nice to be able to offer a supportive ear to a colleague, he told himself as he silently marvelled at the colour of her eyes, the shape of her delicate, feminine fingers; and the way she filled out the Misfits t-shirt she was wearing. 

Having taken her winter coat off when they got inside, he’d never seen so much of her arms, and he was fascinated by the sheer variety and clarity of the tattoos now visible: a swallow, a red rose, a Zippo lighter, a coffin, and a dagger through an anatomically correct heart were only a few of. He was of the mind that he could stare at them for hours.

“- and honestly I wouldn’t be so stuck on this if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t know what I could have done differently to avoid it,” she said, pausing to take a breath. “I have no problem with admitting when I’ve fucked something up, and I’m happy to do things differently in the future to avoid it happening again, but like… what can I learn from this? What, am I supposed to… to like make families sign off on their purchases to confirm and verify that we’re on the same page? That seems shitty: people will think I don’t trust them!” She took another drink and set her pint glass down a bit harder than she needed to. “I need a smoke,” she muttered, sliding out of the booth and grabbing her coat and swiping a pack of smokes from the front pocket of her backpack. “I’ll be right back.”

Emmrich was already on his feet. “I’ll come with you.”

“Oh you don’t have to - it’s cold out and you’re not wearing a jacket. Don’t worry - I’ll be fine on my own for five minutes.”

“I was actually going to ask if I could impose myself upon you and bum one.”

Rook looked from the pack of cigarettes in her hand to Emmrich, then back again, looking delightfully bemused.

“I’m sorry - you smoke?”

“I’ve been known to partake from time to time - not habitually of course, but as more of a social experience.” 

“Uh… okay. I am legitimately shocked.”

He laughed, unable to help himself, and held the door for her. “Why?”

“Because you’re so… proper and… good.” She slid two smokes from the pack and put them between her lips, lighting them both and handing him one. 

“And good people can’t indulge in the occasional enjoyment of a harmless vice?” He quirked an eyebrow and took a drag, savoring the powdery, artificial taste of her lipstick on the filter.

“Smoking kills,” she quoted. 

“Everything kills, eventually.”

“Touché,” she shrugged, shoving her free hand in the pocket of her coat. “Sorry for sitting around ranting this whole time - I know it’s a downer, but I’m really pissed off about that chargeback.” She puffed on her smoke and ground the toe of her boot into some snow. “Are you gonna go to the Wintersend party?” She changed topics abruptly.

“I usually do.”

“Does it suck as much as everyone says it does?”

He chuckled again. “It’s not all that bad when there’s enough food to go around. Were you planning to go?”

“Dunno.” She stubbed her smoke out against the metal ashtray fastened to the brick wall, clearly too cold to linger outside long enough to smoke the cigarette down to the sponge. “Are you bringing a ‘guest’?”

What an interesting question.

He extinguished his own smoke and dumped the butt inside the ashtray, “I wasn’t planning on it. Are you?”

“I never said I was going,” she smirked, ducking under his arm to pass through the door, back into the heat of the bar. 

She got back to the booth and slipped out of her coat as Emmrich sat back down. When she went to hang it from the hook at the top of the booth, a wayward sleeve caught her pint glass which was still roughly a third full, causing it to wobble, then tip over.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, watching as what was left of her beer dripped off the edge of the table onto the vinyl seat of the booth on her side. “Typical,” she sighed. “And they didn’t give us any napkins. Oh well.” 

Emmrich didn’t have any time to question her - she just shook her head and slid into the booth alongside him. Their thighs brushed and he nearly leapt out of his skin as she sidled up next to him innocently. 

“Rook, what are you—?” He stammered.

She righted her glass and dragged the laminated drink menu over the table towards herself. “Hm? Oh, I’ll get the server to bring a rag when she comes back to take our order - I’m assuming you’ll have another one?”

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, truth be told: he certainly was not in the habit of going out for drinks after work with colleagues - especially not ones half his age. To say he was out of his element was an understatement, but the lascivious details of his dream the night before kept intruding on his train of thought, and now Rook was sitting right next to him…

“I really like you, Emmrich,” she said, looking sidelong at him, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic softness. 

“Thank you - I like you too, Rook,” he responded cheerfully, and for some reason, Rook sighed heavily, put her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. 

He thought he heard her mutter, “Holy fuck,” but he couldn’t be sure.

They each had one more drink, then Emmrich drove Rook home. She was quieter than she had been all evening, and she looked distracted and worried on the ride home - he chalked it up to the weight of a stressful day, and was sure to tell her to try to have a relaxing rest of her evening when he dropped her off. 

Bad days happened to everyone, but there was no denying that in this profession they tended to hit harder and sting a bit more than they did for most other people. 

He set down the book he’d been reading in bed for the past hour when his phone buzzed. Picking it up, he saw it was a message from Rook, and his stomach immediately leapt at the sight of it. He really loved hearing from her - he was quite taken with her, as inappropriate as it was, but— oh.

He’d opened the message and was now staring - bug-eyed, his mouth slightly agape - at the screen, and the image of Rook on it. 

The other picture she’d sent him was an innocent moment of drunk impulse. This was something altogether different… and unmistakably deliberate.

She was posing in front of a mirror, holding the phone up to her reflection, wearing a snug gray chemise trimmed with light pink lace. Her long, thoroughly inked legs were visible right up to the hem of the chemise, which was very short. The flimsy material of the garment made it clear that her hard, perky nipples were pierced and her free hand was splayed sensually over her hip as she pushed out her chest, emphasizing her narrow waist and the luscious curve of her hips. 

‘Thanks for listening to me vent today. I feel much better now - Rook, xoxo 😘♥️’

What…? Surely this was meant for someone else…

It was bad enough when he was just drooling over her like a depressed, unmarried, middle-aged man, but unless he was completely mistaken and way off base, this new photo and the message that came with it seemed to indicate some sort of romantic interest - or physical attraction to the recipient at the very least.

“I really like you, Emmrich,” she had said at the bar. 

Emmrich’s blood went cold and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the photo and the suggestive little smile on her crimson lips. 

No wonder she looked like she wanted to cry when he responded like the oblivious fool he was. 

But if she… if I…

What do I do?

The right thing would be to politely inform her that this wasn’t appropriate, and he’d appreciate it if she refrained from sending him any more pictures of herself.

But Emmrich Volkarin had done the right thing for his entire life, and in his mind that more than made up for the words he tapped out in response. 

‘You are beautiful.’

His cheeks heated, his stomach roiled on itself and his hands went clammy as the three bouncing harbingers of an imminent response popped up. 

‘I’m off tomorrow… do you wanna come over?’

He nearly vibrated out of his skeleton as adrenaline shot through him at those words and the blatant meaning behind them: she wasn’t asking him over at this hour for a friendly chat.

He could just stop. 

He could just not reply at all, put his phone down, and go bitterly masturbate in the shower like a mature human being, knowing that getting tangled up with someone - a colleague - of Rook’s age was begging for trouble - not to mention a potential danger to his professional career and reputation. 

Knowing that it was unfair to take advantage of someone as youthful and full of potential as she was in order to stroke his own aging ego and soothe the cruelty of his own inadequacies. 

Knowing that if he went through with this, he was almost guaranteed to regret it.

Instead, he typed out: ‘See you soon.’

He hit send and got out of bed, unable to stop his hands from shaking as he dressed himself in a hurry in a cashmere sweater and chinos. 

He felt strangely disoriented as he beseeched Manfred to please not get into anything while he was away. Felt like he was dreaming again, even though he knew he was not as he threw on his peacoat and grabbed his keys before setting the alarm system and vanishing into the garage, unable to get the image of Rook’s incredible body from his mind. 

“I really like you, Emmrich.”

[zappedbyzabka]

Some of my general thoughts on CK season 6 part 3

Ralph and Billy's tearful scenes with 'Miyagi' and Kreese were phenomenal. They're such great actors 10/10.

I have a lot to say about Johnny's scene with Kreese but just to keep things short, I'll talk about that another time. But wow wow wow. Dominique Swain applauds.

Daniel's nonstop anxiety about his family getting hurt :/ least he had fun getting tipsy with his wife. Amanda looked gorgeous with that new hair (though she always does.) He really tapped into offense side this season. Looove how he knew exactly what to say to make Silver blank-face and leave lmao.

I'm SOOOO never getting over 'You're alright, Lawrence!' and lawrusso recreating the nose swipe scene with Daniel acting as Kreese for Johnny to inspire him. Johnny was MUCH enjoying that.

Daniel basically buying Johnny his building back?😭 AGHHHH. 'I believe in you'....

Tory being dressed in the same gi as young Johnny, and Robby being dressed in the Miyagi Do gi with a hurt leg—paralleling Daniel—in combination with those scenes being where they get back together makes me insane. Like, lawrusso in another universe.

I feel Robby could have gotten a more smoothed out and rewarding end but at the same time, I'm glad he's happy and taken care of now. Angel.

Sam and Tory's scenes together were so heartwarming. Especially the scene of Tory getting emotional over the LaRusso's kindness and generosity to her. Finally getting some one on one with Daniel and Johnny.

When Sam brought up having something to tell Daniel but being worried he'd be disappointed in her, my mind instantly went to a coming out scene tbh.

The montage of binary boyfriends and samtory as Bobby's reading the vows? What are you trying to say???

Bobby and Johnny meeting up again <333 Bobby still gives him that special 'I would actually do for you' stare (whether platonic or not) and I squeal about it. I love that Ron got some time to shine<333 I thought Jimmy would appear, but he sadly did not.

I also thought Anoush was gay but I was obviously mistaken since he was kissing Ralph's daughter (Julia's performance was hilarious.)

Silver speeding away with Johnny in that car was crazyyy. Billy had yet another Scott (not the werewolf) Mccall moment except he didn't get locked in a tower this time. You would've thought the employees would have seen Silver in the papers months ago and called the cops.

His envy over Daniel and Johnny having things to live for and people that actually love them was sad—especially with him being ill. If you think about it, Kreese was all he had besides the money, and when he didn't have Kreese the only way he had anyone around him was pretending to be someone else.

His jealousy over Kreese's love for Johnny really shined through as well with that 'I don't know why you messed up what I was doing with Kreese' (paraphrasing) and the way he called Kreese pathetic for groveling to Johnny no matter how many times he rejected him. Silver felt that he himself was pathetic for having always crawled back to Kreese no matter the rejection he faced.

Also the fucking grenade boat explosion scene??? INSANE???? Literally died in each other's arms. I know many people have problems with it but I don't see what else they really could have done for the two villains with endless crimes (which I love about them alright) that wouldn't be worse.

Think about how Silver probably thought he'd die alone, but didn't. When I realized Kreese was set on offing himself and taking Silver with him the whole time, and that was the reason he spent most of his scenes apologizing to the last few people he loved...

Would like to know more about what happened to Wolf. His bitchiness almost rivaled Johnny's, and damn did he eat up every scene he was in. Just a great character.

Johnny with the tailor? There's my prissy brat.

Considering everything wrong with the baby plot, I at least liked how they did end up choosing to show it. Johnny going full girl dad and being so sweet and coddling to the baby + Miguel and Robby made my heart SOAR. He's always been tender with them but the writers never really did let him to just relax and love. He deserves to be happy, like every imperfect victim irl and in fiction who gets bashed for not meeting people's standards does.

Carmen is a baddie. Just chilling truly

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

What do you think about the finale? Anything you wanna change/add? Not just in the finale ep but in the show in general.

So, my thoughts on Episode 12…And let me preface this by saying that the actors all did a fantastic job. This isn't about their acting or portrayals. I love them and they deserve all the praise.

But as for the finale...

It was just…ok. 

There were cute moments that I really liked and moments that I really loved. But there were a lot of things that I didn’t like at all. (And this doesn’t mean I hate the show! I still enjoyed watching it. It has been such a fun time, you guys!!! But I still have my issues with it)

Good things I loved. Style and his unending love/lust for Fadel. That man worked his ass off so he could BUY FADEL HIS RESTAURANT BACK!!! That is true love right there!!! And he looked hot AF the whole episode. That outfit he was wearing when he was lamenting to the captain about how much he missed Fadel and his dick was just…perfection lol 

I also loved how Fadel kept trying to keep a straight face and be serious. (because he’s in jail and it’s SERIOUS) but he couldn’t, because he loves Style so much that he can’t help but give into his ridiculous demands and smile every time he sees his face. 

I loved their bed scene at the end, where they bring back the 100%...and the making out. All the making out….

I liked Kant’s plan this time. I mean, they could have held out a little longer….but like…in the grand scheme of things, sneaking in as a teacher isn’t terrible. And they were actually teaching. (even though Fadel says he didn’t learn anything, I think that is a lie lol) So they were helping other inmates alongside just seeing and sneaking some make out session with their boyfriends. 

I liked Kant and Bison going to see the northern lights. 

I liked Style’s dad being ok with Fadel being a hitman. Like that man didn’t even sweat it. In fact, he was like…no…this makes sense. My son is friends with car thieves and people that forge ID’s…why not add a hitman to the list? Maybe he’ll calm his ass down. And he is so real for that. 

So, yeah. I liked some things, but I also have some gripes. 

Number one being, bringing Khun Lilly back for ten minutes at the end to stir up unnecessary drama. There was literally zero need for her to come back. It didn’t add anything to the narrative at all. Other than showing that Fadel and Bison are, in fact, willing to kill her. (but again, we didn’t actually see her die…so what was the point???) And who cleaned that whole thing up? How did they get away with poisoning her??? Because if it was that easy, they should have done that in episode 11, since her ass wasn’t going to go to jail for very long anyways. And why bring in Jay and Babe?? Just to show them the truth about Fadel and Bison?? But even then, neither of them care so it doesn’t matter anyways???? It was just really dumb to shove that in there. 

AND I don’t believe for a second that they came out of jail penniless. It makes sense for the police or someone to have seized their property, ie the house and restaurant, but before they got accosted by Cap Chris, they were already on their way to running. They had fake passports and had their shit packed. They had MONEY. They had stuff set up for them to live their lives on the run. So, you can’t tell me that they just…handed over everything. Fadel and Style in particular would have set something up for Fadel to have access to anything he squirreled away. 

Ok, So gripe number two: The whole prison thing. It was set up so fucking weird. Like, I don’t mind prison stories or shows when they are done correctly and show/talk about the hard AF things that happen in prison and what inmates go through and how it changes/affects their lives going forward, (they make my stomach twist when watching them but If done right I tend to do ok with them) but this show was NOT that kind of show. 

They did try to show it a little bit with Bison being sexually harassed, but then it just…goes away. No one bothers them. They aren’t really that distraught about being there either. There’s no internal or external struggle for control or fear or anything. There’s never any authority figures harassing them. They are pretty much left to their own devices. And then their boyfriends show up and it’s like…they get to cook and take classes and make out with their boyfriends. Which, yeah, FEELS good in the moment because we don’t actually want them to be a sad, suffering mess, but that is the WHOLE point of them going to JAIL. That was why the emotions were so fucking HIGH in episode 11, because they knew they were going to have a BAD time in jail and Kant and Style were going to MISS them. 

So, again, what was the point???

And the weird timeline things. Like, you mean to tell me that Bison never saw anyone fucking until year 3??? When he and KANT were fucking the first day Kant showed up as a teacher?? I know they were trying to do a birthday thing, but it fell so flat because it didn’t make sense. AND the whole Fadel being upset thing. That would have worked so much better in year one or two. When he is still feeling a bit raw and maybe still thinking that Style should go on and live his life without him. That Style deserves better and should focus on himself and not Fadel. Because Style has his whole life ahead of him and Fadel is just going to be a felon. 

If they had done this in year one or two it would have hit JUST right. And if they had expanded on it and made it more about Fadel wanting Style to be free of him, and not about Fadel getting his hopes up or his expectations crushed, it would have been so GOOD, but they slid it sometime into year FOUR!!! He had a little more than a year left. At that point it doesn’t make sense for Fadel to say those things or push Style away. He’s literally months away from freedom. So, that was a HUGE gripe from me. 

The emotions also felt pretty flat this episode, and maybe that’s because episode 11 was such a rollercoaster, but even the happy feelings that we were probably supposed to feel, just didn’t land for me. They really didn’t. Like I was happy that they got to be together and not miss each other but it didn’t feel realistic. And I LOVED that Style got the restaurant. But I felt like Fadel’s reaction to that was a little too chill. Like Fadel still doesn’t show his emotions outwardly too often, but he DOES to STYLE. So, I think he would have shown more emotion there and would have had a deeper talk about how much that gesture meant to him. 

KantBison felt flat to me too. And i DIDN’T want them to. Because I love those two, especially FirstKhao, but yeah, they still didn’t draw me in. (Loved watching them make out though. The chemistry is chemistrying lol)

Anyways, those are the things I can think of off the top of my head about the finale, and since this is so long, I may make a different post later about things I would have changed and things that were done super well.

[marzipanilla]

I read your keep reading break as my keep reading break and this whole rant almost showed up, ass out for the dash xD

I do my best to be like 'yeah that's a kid, limited experience/perceptions whatevs' but also... that is a fictional character written by an adult. At the end of the day if you fail to make me feel anything but annoyance/rage at the character, I will unapologetically dislike them and age is not a limiting factor lol Plus you have so many opportunities to not make him obnoxious (or at the very least justify his obnoxiousness) and then you don't it's like ?? Then you pile on the added factors of why the fuck is Debbie his main parent, and are we ever going to address why Nolan felt compelled to actually produce another child in the middle of his suicidal depression after fucking up his last one- like... Not only is he a plot device to make Mark think about shit that he has plenty of other plot devices making him think about anyway (his dad's 'we're better than them' speech, finding out every other version of him is a prick- like Oliver saying 'what if dad is right' is SO pointless bc it's a thought that should have already occurred to Mark and been faced and- dealt with or not - we didn't need this specific character to talk about it!) so Oliver just basically fucks up other characters arcs/personalities in the process of asking a question THAT SHOULD HAVE ALREADY BEEN ASKED.

I WILL sit down and write Kregg or Lucan using toddler purple boy as a bludgeon against Nolan's head and him having to sit their with his dead son's brains in his mouth and actually face the immediate consequences of his actions instead of getting to run off to a secondary location and decide how to approach it from a distance. Literally NO ONE had to die on Thraxa Nolan. You could have just left.

Yeah the purple-ness is BS. It's like 'Nolan has red blood, Andressa has blue skin... those two colors make purple!' like SIR ??

It almost feels like the characters personalities have been retconned a bit. Like. Mark guilt magnet 'I must control myself' Grayson absolutely failing so hard at that or even apparently caring at failing so hard at that. I already had my secondary post ranting about Debbie's parenting thus far this season lol Like, do these people not remember anything that happened to them previously ?? The trajectory was wobbly, but you had a trajectory! Mark TRYING to get in control and finding it harder could have been a thing ! But no, he just had strength training and now murders his way through his problems ?? Maybe Debbie overcompensating because Nolan WAS a murderer so she put too many heroes vs bad guys shit in Oliver's head ?? but no ?? they're just ?? acting weird ??? instead ??

Nolan disproved that viltrumites aren't inherently incapable of experiencing empathy! He just had to learn it ! And Oliver was definitely raised in a situation where he should have been learning it ! SO WHERE IS THIS ELITISM COMING FROM. WHERE WHERE SHOW. Did his thraxan mom kissing him on the forehead and calling him the specialist boy ever (worth the destruction of her planet!) fuck up his head?? we ever going to talk about Andressa again?? ever?

So like how you talked about not wanting to read the manga while watching the anime bc it changes things- I am unfortunately anticipating way too much and it's kinda throwing things off for me lol I genuinely wonder if I will like this season a lot more on a second watch bc I won't be spending the entire time screaming at the screen about things almost happening. Like. I knew who was the king of Earth in the future, so, the slow ass build up to it just made me fucking impatient. Not to mention my future comic knowledge of how that story line comes around at all just makes me roll my eyes at everything that happened there- tho at least show Mark points out that Immortal could have just, y'know, STOPPED- something his comic counterpart never seemed to realize was a valid thing to say. Like dude. Suicide by Mark is still suicide. Throw your ass into the sun! You met Mark and Kate at the same time, but you remember him and not her? You've had hundreds of wives? Get this man a pocket pussy, apparently he can't experience any empathy for living things unless his dick is getting wet on the reg. Like. Immortal just annoys me so much. Enduring while everything around you dies is an interesting story ! Somehow every time he tries to bring it up I just hate him.

Though he is just another example of something that I think Kirkman had done a few times- which is it doesn't seem to occur to characters that they can say no. Nolan, bud, maybe DON'T become emperor of the people of a planet you know nothing about ?? Did it ever occur to you that would be a BAD MOVE ? You can help out and not be their ruler. Same for Immortal. Not to mention future Mark being so into dictators he assigns one to Earth is wild. Kirkman just seems to really love dictators.

I think Nolan's almost execution and the break out was done SUPER well. Love watching that pathetic man try and drown himself in regret like this bitch doesn't full on have two kids he is escaping responsibility for in the process. Sir. It is time for you to use your punchy punch powers to maybe start punching things back together.

I thought the reveal that Viltrumites were almost extinct was going to happen at the end of last season, so, to say I have been waiting for this news is an understatement xD I also thought one thing I was super worried about got addressed to never come back to haunt me, only to realize it is still VERY possible for it to be brought up and I just have so much anxiety about that- that until I know one way or another my enjoyment of what is in the eps is SO limited. Like, I NEED TO KNOW so I can know whether or not to be mad and just deal with it, or I can be relieved and just enjoy what comes next.

Fun fact, we now know more about Rae- and have seen her in civilian clothes- then we do about Kate. WILD.

I like PFT but having the narrator come back was so unnecessary. They tried to push the comedy so hard this ep, and I imagine it's supposed to be a breather before more oncoming shit hits the fan but.. Allen is enough comedic relief. I don't need a random voice.

Also Mark, your mom has had some serious traumatic experiences with people breaking into her house- maybe don't sneak people in and not tell her about it. Maybe. Yes haha funny moment (and I was full on waiting for Debbie to be like 'tell Eve I said goodnight' through the door) but I will still sit here and be like stop lying to your mom about stupid shit! Let her know whose in the house so she wont be freaked out by it!

And to jump back to previous ep- Mark faced consequences for once, Immortal? The kid who got a mace through the gut? Almost died to his father? Had to go to Atlantis by himself to face the crimes his father committed? Who almost died getting sent on a mission he had to tell Cecil he would be a good dog for ?? Whose mother and brother almost died bc of a guy who escaped the aftermath you IMMORTAL were supposed to be cleaning up? You think Cecil blowing out his eardrums was the first time he faced consequences?? go fuck yourself. Mark was being stupid but that response is so dumb. 'for once' SIR. you have just been dead and depressed you haven't been around. fuck off.

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[why-the-heck-not]

me, a responsible being, working on the coding project as I should vs. me, a dysfunctional shithead, getting distracted by reading about brains (once aGAIN damnit (it's my favorite "I need to study my field but bc I should do that it's an impossible unthinkable feat now, so I'm reading about something else to fool my brain I'm still being productive"-topic))