#or the simple fact that he saved union people

[pinkniz]

Half an hour with Sachiko makes you reconsider your life choices

[dyns33]

Family honor

So Alfie x Y/N Shelby wife will be a little series now

There were several differences between a Gypsy wedding and a Jewish wedding.

The most obvious being that gypsy marriage was not recognized by anyone except gypsies.

But if it wasn't celebrated, you could walk past a priest, a rabbi, an imam or the fucking King himself, to live for years with the same person, under the same roof, with children, that would not have the slightest importance for the gypsies.

Alfie Solomons muttered several times that none of this was kosher, but he respected all the rites and traditions of Y/N's family. Even drinking alcohol, he who hated having a foggy mind.

"Already quite foggy the rest of the time, love. But if your savages of brothers insist…"

“The savages insist.” John said, giving him a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I can’t believe this asshole is going to become one of us.”

"Oh, Arthur, I'm touched that you accept me so quickly into your heart."

It took several people besides Tommy and Y/N to stop them from killing each other, when they were completely drunk.

Then they insisted on walking together in the horse field, the older Shelby brother ending up giving his blessing before falling asleep under a tree, making it clear that he would slit Alfie's throat if he did not treat his beloved little sister correctly.

The wandering jew left him to return with the others, who were dancing and singing. A perfect wedding, completely normal.

If he was offended when Y/N told him that the Jewish marriage was practically the same, he didn't show it, just made a strange sound with his nose.

There may have been less alcohol, and it was legally recognized, but the rest was a gathering of a lot of loud people, not speaking English, jumping around and congratulating them on their union.

Y/N, however, quickly noticed the biggest difference between gypsy marriage and Jewish marriage.

Although they had been a little surprised and worried by her choice of husband, her family had decided to give a chance to Alfie Solomons, whom they judged solely because of his actions. The rest didn't matter in the slightest.

With the Camden community, it wasn’t so simple.

“Your lovely wife is going to convert ?” an old woman asked, although it sounded more like an order than a question.

"Ah, frau Aldermann. It is true that I am such a pious man myself, it is a very important subject that my wife and I have talked about a lot. Isn't that right, treacle ?"

“Good, good.” sighed a man, patting his shoulder, not seeming to understand Alfie's sarcasm. "This is very important, especially for such an admired member. Perhaps your mother was of Jewish parentage ?"

She could have replied that she had not really known her mother, and therefore even less her family, but her husband saved her from this discussion, which he considered ridiculous, by inviting her to dance.

A true act of love, for him who hated dancing, in addition to suffering terribly because of his back.

It didn't take long for her entire family tree to be dissected in every way. The old harpies of Camden were like all the harpies of London.

The fact that she couldn't answer their question was almost a good thing. This mystery made it possible to say that if we could not verify that she was Jewish through her mother, we could not verify that she was not either. And everything always went through the mother.

The deplorable past of her father and the Shelby family could then have been forgotten.

The problem was mainly that her mother was not Mr. Arthur Shelby Sr. wife, which made Y/N a bastard. A gypsy bastard at that.

Even when she didn't understand the language, she guessed that people were talking about her. These looks and these laughter, she knew them well. Her brothers had suffered them when they were younger, before they used their fists to silence the ignorant and conquer Birmingham.

But she wasn't in Birmingham. Her brothers were not there, and it was her husband's kingdom.

Alfie wasn't the last to comment on gypsies.

"You know, I expected to have to sleep in a caravan for our honeymoon. It would have been terrible for my back, I don't know if Thomas took pity on us or if his petty posh side is to be thanked."

“They had a tent for us, but Finn threw up in it.”

"Fuck off, love. You're kidding me !"

“Then we would have danced naked around a fire asking the moon to give us happiness, health and above all a lot of fucking money.”

"… Yeah, you're totally kidding me, you little rascal." Alfie said, mock irritated, pulling her in for a kiss.

He didn't seem to notice that every little word spoken against her family and their traditions was beginning to weigh on her.

At least it was never completely mean when it was him. Almost innocent, full of prejudice and stupidity, but not crossing certain limits.

The rest of the community was not so kind. Many had not appreciated that the King of Camden, such a prized party, war hero, respected gangster, charming man, ended up with a girl like her. It must have been business, blackmail, or black magic.

There was no other possible explanation.

For several months, she decided to be the reasonable adult, remaining calm and polite, taking the blows as best she could. Tommy had taught her how to do it.

He had also taught her the pride of gypsies. Honor.

So there came a day when she was walking through the bakery, and some of the employees made a little joke about stealing and fortune telling, laughing like the idiots they were.

Normally, she would have ignored him. But Y/N was exhausted, and Polly's voice repeated in her head that no Shelby would ever allow themselves to be treated like this, so before they had time to react, she grabbed the hair of one of them, placing a knife to his throat.

"Tell me another joke about gypsies. Then I'll tell you a joke about Jews. Then I'll kill you."

The boy squealed, calling to his colleagues for help with his big, frightening eyes, but no one dared to move. Because they knew she would go faster. And even if she wasn't moving fast enough, she was Tommy Shelby's sister and Alfie Solomons' wife. Literally untouchable.

"Come on." she whispered in his ear. "Make me laugh. No ? No more jokes ? You're going to play the victim. It's funny, people who complain about being mistreated, then do exactly the same thing to others while thinking they're superior. You're all the same."

She didn't comment on the puddle under his legs, nor the little cry of panic when she released him.

Everyone stood still, watching her leave, and when she met Ollie's gaze, she knew she had just made a mistake. She only proved that she was indeed the savage they all described, the bad person.

Alfie probably wouldn't be happy when his right hand man told him what happened.

He did indeed seem to be in a terrible mood when she found him waiting for her in the living room, sunk into the sofa, indicating that his back was hurting badly, but that he would refuse to talk about it.

"Come, love, have a sit. Come on, sit down here."

Not wanting to act like a child, she remained silent as she took a seat in the chair he indicated to her.

This was obviously not what he expected, because he didn't speak either, staring at her intensely, hands crossed, displaying a small pout.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at the bakery today ?”

“Why ask if you already know ?”

“I would like your version.”

"I threatened to slit the throat of one of your workers and disrupted production. Do you want to spank me ?"

"Tempting. Why did you want to slit his throat ?"

“Unimportant.”

"Unimportant, uh ? Unimportant, love ? Because Ollie came to tell me that some guys were talking bad about me wife."

Groaning slightly, Alfie stood up just enough to push a piece of paper and pencil in her direction onto the table between them.

"Names."

“Alfie���”

"I want the names, treacle. I've already gone around the bakery telling everyone that insulting me wife and her family was insulting me, and I don't like being insulted. Names."

“You always make fun of gypsies.”

"Wrong." he retorted, holding up a finger as if that proved his point. "I do it when your brothers are around, because Thomas can be a little prick, and it's hilarious to see Arthur react like a mad dog. But I have nothing against gypsies. Lovely people. The proof, look at you. And look at me. The two most wonderful creatures our communities could spawn, right ?"

Despite all her strength, Y/N couldn't help but smile, which seemed to please her husband. He then placed his victorious finger on the paper, insisting on names.

If she had shown mercy by not cutting, this would not be the case with the wandering jew, king of Camden Town.

No one insulted his wife. No one looked at his wife badly, no one criticized her, no one tried to take away from her, no one thought of her with bad thoughts.

“Not even you ?” Y/N asked with a mischievous smile.

"Not at all. Now you brought up spanking. You brought it up first, love, not me."

“My brothers would be furious to hear that you beat me.”

"Don't tempt me, I can spread false rumors all the way to Birmingham just for the thrill of them all running here, and finding us…"

“You’re the one who deserves a spanking.”

"Ungrateful wife. Threatening me, under my own roof, when my back is killing me and I have just condemned half the city for the love of her."

The Shelbys never knew about their sister's difficult first months in Camden. Tommy noticed that he seemed to be treated with a little more respect when he walked the streets, but neither Y/N nor Alfie talked about what had happened before this outpouring of acceptance from the community.

On the other hand, Arthur noticed marks on his little sister's neck, and he tried to strangle Alfie, even after realizing that it wasn't what he thought, because it wasn't really better for him.

And Solomons reminding him that he was his brother-in-law didn't help at all.

[txttletale]

how do ml's reconcile with lenin going for a bigbrainhaver hierarchy which just so happened to place him at the tippy top? most of the things he's quoted for writing make a kind of sense in that longwinded academic philosopher way, but, like, russia went from having a revolution against monarchy to having a monarchy, essentially, and what folks do tends to align with their desires, yeah? wouldn't that make everything he said, idk, suspicious?

we reconcile with this because none of this is even remotely true. lenin did not 'happen to be placed at the tippy top' but was in fact elected by the soviets, who worked in a very simple electoral system by which workers and peasants would elect representatives to their local soviet, who as well as administering local services would also elect members to higher bodies. the quote unquote bigbrainhaver hierarchy system in question was as follows:

The sovereign body is in every case the Congress of Soviets. Each county sends its delegates. These are elected indirectly by the town and county Soviets which vote in proportion to population, following the ratio observed throughout, by which the voters in the town have five times the voting strength of the inhabitants of the villages, an advantage which may, as we saw, be in reality three to one. The Congress meets, as a rule, once a year, for about ten days. It is not, in the real sense of the word, the legislative body. It debates policy broadly, and passes resolutions which lay down the general principles to be followed in legislation. The atmosphere of its sittings is that of a great public demonstration. The Union Congress, for example, which has some fifteen hundred members, meets in the Moscow Opera House. The stage is occupied by the leaders and the heads of the administration, and speeches are apt to be big oratorical efforts. The real legislative body is the so-called Central Executive Committee (known as the C. I. K. and pronounced "tseek") . It meets more frequently than the Congress to which it is responsible-in the case of the Union, at least three times in the year-passes the Budget, receives the reports of the Commissars (ministers), and discusses international policy. It, in its turn, elects two standing bodies: (1) The Presidium of twenty-one members, which has the right to legislate in the intervals between the sittings of the superior assemblies, and also transacts some administrative work. (2) The Council of Peoples' Commissars. These correspond roughly to the Ministers or Secretaries of State in democratic countries and are the chiefs of the administration. Meeting as a Council, they have larger powers than any Cabinet, for they may pass emergency legislation and issue decrees which have all the force of legislation. Save in cases of urgency, however, their decrees and drafts of legislation must be ratified by the Executive Committee (C.I.K.). In another respect they differ from the European conception of a Minister. Each Commissar is in reality the chairman of a small board of colleagues, who are his advisers. These advisory boards, or collegia, meet very frequently (it may even be daily) to discuss current business, and any member of a board has the right to appeal to the whole Council of Commissars against a decision of the Commissar.

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

you might notice that the congresses of soviets were not directly elected -- this is because they were elected by local soviets, who were directly elected, in a process that many people have given first hand accounts of:

I have, while working in the Soviet Union, participated in an election. I, too, had a right to vote, as I was a working member of the community, and nationality and citizenship are no bar to electoral rights. The procedure was extremely simple. A general meeting of all the workers in our organisation was called by the trade union committee, candidates were discussed, and a vote was taken by show of hands. Anybody present had the right to propose a candidate, and the one who was elected was not personally a member of the Party. In considering the claims of the candidates their past activities were discussed, they themselves had to answer questions as to their qualifications, anybody could express an opinion, for or against them, and the basis of all the discussion was: What justification had the candidates to represent their comrades on the local Soviet. As far as the elections in the villages were concerned, these took place at open village meetings, all peasants of voting age, other than those who employed labour, having the right to vote and to stand for election. As in the towns, any organisation or individual could put forward candidates, anyone could ask the candidate questions, and anybody could support or oppose the candidature. It is usual for the Communist Party to put forward a candidate, trade unions and other organisations can also do so, and there is nothing to prevent the Party’s candidate from not being elected, if he has not sufficient prestige among the voters. In the towns the “ electoral district ” has hitherto consisted of a factory, or a group of small factories sufficient to form a constituency. But there was one section of the town population which has always had to vote geographically, since they did not work together in one organisation. This was the housewives. As a result, the housewives met separately in each district, had their own constituencies, and elected their own representatives to the Soviet. Here, too, vital interest has always been shown in the personality of every candidate. Why should this woman be elected ? What right had she to represent her fellow housewives on the local Soviet ? In the district next to my own at the last election the housewife who was elected was well known as an organiser of a communal dining-room in the district. This was the kind of person that the housewives wanted to represent them on the Soviet. Another candidate, a Communist, proposed by the local organisation of the Party, was turned down in her favour.

[...]

The election of delegates to the local Soviet is not the only function of voters in the Soviet Union. It is not a question here of various parties presenting candidates to the electorate, each with his own policy to offer. The Soviet electorate has to select a personality from its midst to represent it, and instruct this person in the policy which is to be followed when elected. At a Soviet election meeting, therefore, as much or more time may be spent on discussion of the instructions to the delegate as is spent on discussing the personality of the candidates. At the last election to the Soviets, in which I personally participated, we must have spent three or four times as much time on the working out of instructions as we did on the selection of our candidate. About three weeks before the election was to take place the trade union secretary in every department of our organisation was told by the committee that it was time to start to prepare our instructions to the delegate. Every worker was asked to make suggestions concerning policy which he felt should be brought to the notice of the new personnel of the Moscow Soviet. As a result, about forty proposals concerning the general government of Moscow were handed in from a group of about twenty people. We then held a meeting in our department at which we discussed the proposals, and adopted some and rejected others. We then handed our list of pro¬ posals to a commission, appointed by the trade union committee, and representing all the workers in our organisation. This Commission co-ordinated the pro¬ posals received, placed them in order according to the various departments of the Soviet, and this co-ordinated list was read at the election meeting itself, again discussed, and adopted in its final form.

—Pat Sloan, Soviet Democracy (1937)

Between the elections of 1931 and 1934, no less than 18 per cent of the city deputies and 37 per cent of village deputies were recalled, of whom only a relatively small number — 4 per cent of the total — were charged with serious abuse of power. The chief reasons for recall were inactivity — 37 per cent — and inefficiency — 21 per cent. If these figures indicate certain lacks in the quality of elected officials, they show considerable activity of the people in improving government. The electorate of the Peasants' Gazette, for example, consisted of some 1,500 employees, entitled to elect one deputy to the Moscow city soviet and two to the ward soviet. For more than a month before the election every department of the newspaper held meetings discussing both candidates and instructions. Forty-three suggested candidates and some 1,400 proposals for the work of the incoming government resulted from these meetings, which also elected committees to boil down and classify the instructions. These committees issued a special four-page newspaper for the 1,500 voters; it contained brief biographies of the forty-three candidates, an analysis of their capacities by the Communist Party organization of the Peasants' Gazette, and the "nakaz," or list of "people's instructions," classified by subject and the branch of government which they concerned. At the final election meeting of the Peasants* Gazette there was literally more than 100 per cent attendance, since some of the staff who for reasons of absence or illness had not been listed as prospective voters returned from sanatoria or from distant assignments to vote. The instructions issued by the electorate in this manner — 1,400 from the Peasants' Gazette and tens of thousands from Moscow citizens — became the first business of the incoming government.

—Anna Louise Strong, The New Soviet Constitution (1937)

does this mean that the soviet project was some utopian perfect system? no. there were flaws in the system like any other. it disenfranchised the rural peasantry (although not, i would like to add, to any extent greater or even equivalent to the extent to which the US electoral system disenfranchises the urban working class) -- the various tiers of indirect selection created a divide between the average worker and the highest tier of the executive -- and various elements of this fledgling system would calcify and bureaucratise over time in ways that obstructed worker's democracy. but saying that it was 'a monarchy' is founded in absolutely nothing except the most hysterical anticommunist propaganda and tedious orwellian liberal truisms.

even brailsford, in an account overall critical of the soviet system, had to admit:

Speaking broadly, the various organs of the system, from the Council of Commissars of the Union down to the sub-committees of a town Soviet, are handling the same problems. Whether one sits in the Kremlin at a meeting of the most august body of the whole Union, the "C.I.K.," or round a table in Vladimir with the working men who constitute its County Executive Committee, one hears exactly the same problems discussed. How, be-fore June arrives, shall we manage to reduce prices by ten percent? What growth can we show in the number of our spindles, or factories, and in the number of workers employed? When and how shall we make our final assault on the last relics of illiteracy? Or when shall we have room in our schools, even in the remotest village, for every child? Was it by good luck or good guidance that the number of typhus cases has dropped in a year by half? And, finally, how can we hasten the raising of clover seed, so that the peasants who, at last, thanks to our propaganda, are clamoring for it, may not be disappointed?

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

genuinely, i think you should take a moment and think about where you learned about the soviet union. have you read any serious historical work on the topic, even from non-communist or anti-communist sources? because even imperialist propagandists have to make a pretence at engaging with actual facts on the ground, something which you haven't done at all -- and yet you speak with astounding confidence. i recommend you read some serious books instead of animal farm and reflect on why you believe the things you believe and how you know the things you think you know.

[defectivevillain]

indigo

pairing: Eddie Brock/Reader/Venom Symbiote/Agony Symbiote

reader's pronouns are they/them; race and gender are ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used

summary: “You’re….” Eddie chokes out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together. “Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”

word count: 4.2k | ao3 version

I did some research on the wiki and watched a few clips of the movie, but that’s the extent of my canon knowledge. As such, this won’t be canon compliant.

In this fic, the reader (you) is an experiment of the Life Foundation. Dr. Drake decides to try bonding you with a symbiote. While the union works, it ultimately backfires for him—as you manage to make your escape and go into hiding with the symbiote. Without a symbiote to bond to her, Dr. Skirth ends up living… and once Eddie escapes from the facility, she introduces the two of you.

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, cannibalism, and human experimentation; vomiting and sickness

There’s someone Dr. Skirth wants Eddie to meet. He hates meeting new people, but he owes Dora a favor, so he agrees to meet up with you in the park under the cover of night. Eddie doesn’t know anything about you, other than the fact that you’re a friend of a friend. According to Dora, you’re also tied to the Life Foundation (how that connection manifests, Eddie isn’t sure). Honestly, Eddie just hopes his meeting with you will be useful. Meanwhile, Venom is, understandably, skeptical about the meeting. They make sure to complain to him several times as he makes his way to the park, and they are only satiated with the promise that they can eat you if you somehow turn out to be a villain. 

Unfortunately for Venom, you don’t appear to be a villain. Rather, you’re wearing deceptively casual clothing: a simple sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. Your hands are shoved in your pockets; there are dark circles under your eyes and you’re staring down at the cracks in the pavement as you stand under a flickering streetlight. There are scars marking nearly every visible part of you—stretching up your collarbone, running down your face, laced across your hands. One thing is abundantly clear to Eddie in that moment: Life Foundation has left its mark on you, too. 

If you sense him staring, you don’t comment on it. Instead, you just look up and send him a hesitant wave. “Hi,” you say, extending a hand to shake as you introduce yourself. Eddie blinks at you for a moment, before introducing himself in return. After a second, he takes your proffered hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes catch on your cracked knuckles and everything seems to fall into place. It appears you’re far more similar to Eddie than he first thought. 

“You’re….” He finds himself choking out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together. 

“Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”

Eddie stares at you in disbelief, amazed by your composure. Right now, he feels as if Venom is in complete control. Yet you seem able to switch between your symbiote and your own visage at will. It’s as if the two of you are in complete agreement. “How…?” He trails off. 

Half of your face is overtaken with the alien entity. “We are Agony.” A warped voice responds, a blend of your voice and the alien’s. Slowly, the alien—Agony—drips down your face and disappears from sight. You’re staring at him with a patient expression now. “We can help you.” You state matter-of-factly. 

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with that offer. He finds himself mechanically proceeding through the rest of the conversation, just barely staying afloat amidst the realization that there may actually be someone willing to help him. A few days ago, Eddie would’ve maintained that he didn’t need help;today, he’s grateful for the offer of assistance that he knows he needs. He has no idea how to navigate this tumultuous new existence he finds himself sharing with the alien creature inside him. 

He locks eyes with you, and an unspoken understanding passes between the both of you. There is a visceral fuzzy feeling in Eddie’s chest, as he stares into the eyes of the one person who could ever truly understand his new life. You stare right back at him, evidently having similar thoughts. The two of you are tied together by fate and its cruelties; you have virtually no choice but to lean on one another, lest you both return to your loneliness. 

Eddie leaves twenty minutes later with your number in his phone and plans to meet with you the next morning. He’s fairly hopeful about it—from what he could tell, you seem like a genuinely kind person. Worn thin from the trials you’ve been forced into, but kind nonetheless. Eddie tries to puzzle out how you could still have sympathy for a world that has shown you nothing but malice. 

“Don’t trust them.” Venom growls, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. He feels the symbiote’s restless energy humming along his skin, creating goosebumps that run down his arms as he walks home.

Whether Venom’s remark is a profession of their suspicion or a warning, Eddie isn’t sure. He sighs. “Let’s give them a chance,” Eddie maintains, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues down the street. “If they somehow turn out to be evil, you can eat them. Okay?” 

Venom is silent for a while. “Fine.” They eventually respond, clearly not happy about it. But the renewed promise of food must be too good for them to turn down. 

Eddie nods, secretly relieved. Admittedly, he’s pretty optimistic about you: you appear healthy, sane, and most importantly, comfortable in your own body. You don’t appear to be constantly at war with yourself, which is rather similar to how Eddie feels at the current moment.

“War,” Venom remarks. There’s no telling whether they possess the same spectrum of emotions that humans do, yet they’re speaking with clear sarcasm. “Very dramatic, Eddie.” Eddie just rolls his eyes. 

The rest of his day passes without much fanfare. He eats a rather bland dinner and falls asleep earlier than normal, if only to quiet his restless thoughts. Before long, it’s the next morning—and he’s freshening up before heading out to the diner you agreed to meet at. 

You’re waiting for him in a brightly-colored booth. Eddie walks over to you, muttering a greeting as he takes the seat across from you. You slide a coffee mug over to him, which he drinks gratefully. His curiosity seems to linger in the air around both of you, until you’re relenting and telling Eddie about yourself. He told you about himself when you met last night; now, it’s your turn to tell your story. 

What Eddie hears is enough to turn his stomach and effectively rid him of his appetite. Essentially, you were one of the human captives used as experiments by the Life Foundation. You describe a constant state of numbness at war with dread and fear. You explain how you were practically left to rot behind those glass walls, until it came time for you to be the next test subject. You recount how you were exposed to the blue symbiote… and how, upon your successful union, Life Foundation planned to experiment on you further. By the time you’re describing your escape, Eddie is resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand over your shaking one—desperate to provide comfort to the one person who understands what it’s like to have a parasite living inside them. 

“Not a parasite,” Venom hisses, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. They sound strangely offended by the remark.

“Right, they don’t like being called that,” you murmur, tapping your fingers rhythmically against the table. Eddie blinks, thrown back into reality. “Symbiote is better.” Agony interjects. You seem entirely unbothered by the interruption. 

An awkward silence descends across the space for a moment, before Eddie blurts out the first thought that comes to mind. “I’m hungry,” Eddie frowns. Indeed, his stomach aches with emptiness—despite his knowledge that he ate just before falling asleep the previous night. 

“We’re hungry.” Venom corrects him. 

You’re looking at him— them, Eddie reminds himself—with amusement. The expression is fleeting. “Right,” you then say, as if you’re just remembering. A grimace rises on your face. “Well. There are two options: chocolate… and human brains.”

Eddie stares at you warily. He didn’t think you were the type to joke about things like this, but it just sounds too far fetched to be real. He must’ve misjudged you, somehow. As if sensing his doubt, you attempt to explain further. 

“I know, I was skeptical too,” you admit, rubbing a hand over your face. While your relationship with Agony seems a lot more clearly defined than Eddie and Venom’s, there’s still a lingering exhaustion written in the lines of your face. You take a slow breath. “Their species requires different nutrients than ours: namely, phenethylamine.” 

“Human brains are better.” Agony states. 

You sigh. “It’s true. Chocolate is really only a temporary fix, because it doesn’t last nearly as long. The two of us have struck up an agreement to only eat bad people, so there’s at least a bit of morality involved...” You break off, clearly sensing Eddie’s impending dread. 

There’s no way around eating humans. It takes him several seconds to process this. Eddie doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t want to think about the feeling of human matter stuck between his hooked teeth; doesn’t want to think about waking up in the morning, sweat-soaked and stained with the dried blood of a dead stranger. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your brows furrowed. Eddie hates how sincere you are. And he especially hates how he takes comfort from your reassurance. It shouldn’t mean anything to him—he never cares what people think of him. But the fact that you can not only sympathize with him, but also empathize with him, is rather significant. 

“We can do this,” you promise him. Eddie finds himself oddly appreciative of your choice of wording. You chose to say “we,” as if explicitly confirming your support for him. “We’ll help you.” You repeat. 

“Okay,” he responds stiffly, not trusting himself to say anything else. The two—four—of you spend the rest of the meal in silence. Eventually, the warm sunlight trickles through the windows next to you and breakfast is over. Eddie and you leave the restaurant and stop on the sidewalk outside, turning towards one another. 

“I’ll text you,” you promise. “Let me know if you need anything.” Eddie nods quietly. As if sensing how overwhelmed he feels, your expression morphs into one oddly reminiscent of… affection. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Eddie assents and tells you to do the same, at which a smile rises on your lips. Oddly short of breath, Eddie manages to tear his eyes away and utter a goodbye—though your smile remains in his thoughts for the rest of the day. 

Eddie begins to make progress, slowly but surely. With your guidance, he learns how to communicate better with Venom; fight with their assistance; and even nourish himself better. None of it seems to be important, in the face of the realization that his life will never return back to normal. But, somehow, the satisfied smile on your face when he accomplishes something is enough for Eddie to keep pushing himself. 

Since your first meeting, Venom has warmed up to you a lot more—to the point where they have started speaking to you directly, instead of just speaking to Eddie. Agony has still remained a bit more withdrawn and silent, but their presence is keenly felt regardless. 

Eddie still has moments when he feels as if the world is caving in on him—as if the faces of passerby are contorted in disgust and fear (which was an unfortunate reality in the beginning days of his union with Venom). There are nights when he wakes with dried blood flecked across his skin, but he has grown accustomed to washing it off and forgetting it in the morning. You are a constant companion during these moments, and, sometimes, your touch is the only thing that grounds Eddie to the world around him. Safe to say, the two of you have taken to staying at each other’s apartments more often than not. 

On a few rare occasions, Eddie is the one to hold you—as you remember confinement behind cold glass walls and calculating eyes watching your every move. Eddie can’t imagine what your captivity and torture at the hands of Life Foundation was like… And he’s certain he doesn’t want to think about it, because it will only make him feel even worse. While you’ve both been bonded with symbiotes, Eddie escaped the cruel experimentation that you were subjected to. He was just visiting to get information for an article; you were bound in chains and thrown behind nearly impenetrable barriers. 

Overall, though, things are going well. At least, Eddie wants to think so. But then the universe wants to spite him, and he wakes up one morning feeling as if he was hit by a truck. He’s practically stuck to the cushions of his couch, his limbs as heavy as bricks. His throat is overwhelmingly dry; there’s a bitter taste in his mouth; and, try as he might, he can’t seem to wrench his eyes open. 

“Eddie? …Eddie? Shit.” 

Eddie wakes to a frigid cold. He shivers instinctually, blinking past a strange sheen over his eyelids. It takes his vision several moments to clarify past a swirling blur. His temple is nearly pulsating with pain; his stomach aches and his skin is coated in sweat. Eddie twitches, recognizing your blurry silhouette and realizing you must’ve dumped cold water on him to wake him up. Even now, as he’s been torn from sleep, he’s struggling to stay awake. 

“Eddie?” You ask, sounding very concerned. Eddie isn’t sure he can remember the last time someone was so worried about him. The thought saddens him. Your hands move to his shoulders and you shake him slightly, your brows furrowed. “Can you hear me?” The most Eddie can manage is a weak nod in response. 

“Doesn’t… feel right.” Venom adds. This may be the first time Eddie has ever agreed with Venom.

“Eddie’s sick,” you respond to the symbiote. 

Eddie isn’t able to register much more of your conversation with Venom—not when his ears are ringing and he feels a familiar prickling nausea at the back of his throat. Eddie slowly pushes himself up. Upon realizing that the feeling is steadily climbing up his throat, he clumsily gets to his feet and stumbles towards the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Eddie can’t quite comprehend what’s happening, other than the burning sensation assaulting his throat and the sudden feel of someone rubbing his back reassuringly. You’re crouching next to him, saying something he can’t make out. Venom responds for him. 

At some point, he stops throwing up and attempts to rest his head. You put the toilet seat down and flush it, before allowing him to do so. Eddie feels a foreign gratitude for the kindness you’re showing him, despite the monster living inside him. The cold porcelain is a welcome sensation on his sweat-soaked skin. 

“Not a monster,” Venom reminds him. Even his companion’s voice is quieter, as if accommodating the headache migrating through his temple and down into his cheekbones and jaw. Eddie doesn’t have the energy to argue. He blinks slowly, the lights of the bathroom only making his headache worse. He feels rather woozy. 

“Here, let’s get you up,” you suggest. Eddie can hardly move, yet your hands bracket his arms and you’re pulling him up as if he weighs nothing at all. (That is likely due to Agony’s help, but he doesn’t exactly have the wherewithal to recognize that). Eddie lurches to the side ominously, but Venom extends a makeshift arm and rights his balance. With Agony, Venom, and you combined, Eddie makes it back to the couch easily. You help him sit down before walking into the kitchen. You return moments later to press a glass of water into his hand. 

Eddie gulps it down greedily. Or, at least, he tries to—only for you to reach out and stop him from drinking any more. “Not too fast,” you remark, taking the glass from his hand and placing it on the adjacent coffee table. “Wait ten minutes or so, just to make sure you can keep it down.”

Eddie stares at you for a long moment, frowning. He hears himself blurting out his thoughts before he can think any better of it.“Why are you here?” Eddie croaks. He is the complete opposite of presentable at the moment; the last thing he wants is for you of all people to see him looking so pathetic. Eddie isn’t exactly sure why he wants to make such a good impression on you, but… he supposes that doesn’t matter now. He can muse on the exact nature of his feelings towards you at a later date, when he doesn’t feel so uncomfortable in his own skin. 

You blink at him for a moment, evidently contemplating the question. “Alone.” Agony responds. Eddie squints at you, watching as the symbiote’s midnight blue mass crawls up your shoulders, as if wrapping an arm around you in reassurance. You don’t even flinch at the sudden presence of your companion. Instead, you take a slow breath and look at Eddie once more. “When it happened to me, I was alone. It was… an isolating experience. I don’t want you to feel the same way.” You explain. 

You then reach down, as if to touch him, only for Venom to protrude from Eddie’s shoulder and snap at you. At least, they attempt to—only for Agony to intercept them and snap threateningly in return. Eddie watches the whole scene through hazy eyes, half-convinced that he’s having a fever dream. Eventually, Agony and Venom seem to resolve their dispute and you reach out towards Eddie again, placing your hand on his forehead to check for his temperature. Eddie can’t stop himself from sighing in relief at your cool skin. You only frown, looking more worried. “You’re burning up,” you say to him. 

“Hot.” Venom adds, clearly feeling a bit of Eddie’s own discomfort. “Like flames.” 

“He has a fever,” you respond, getting to your feet and moving to the kitchen once more. You come back moments later with a towel in hand. Eddie dazedly watches as you approach, folding the towel before placing it on his forehead. He exhales slowly as the cold fabric brings a welcome sensation of frigidity trickling down his temple, fighting off the flames licking at his skin. He’s not sure how long he sits in silence until you’re breaking through it. “Here, it’s been ten minutes. Can you sit up a bit?” You ask. 

Eddie lets out a pained whimper, practically sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Venom stretches out of his back and props him up to a sitting position. Thank you, Eddie thinks. Then the symbiote rises to grasp his forearm, guiding him to grip the glass of water and take another sip. Venom and you then help him return to a reclined position. 

Eddie’s eyelids are stinging with exhaustion. He’s desperately fighting off sleep—blinking tiredly with extra effort. “It’s okay, you can rest,” you reassure him, noticing his fatigue. “We’ll be here when you wake.” 

That comforts him far more than he’d like to admit. Before long, Eddie is slipping into sleep once more. 

“Cared for you,” Venom says days later, when Eddie has mostly recovered. They’re sharing a quiet moment in Eddie’s apartment, sitting on the couch and staring at the television on low-volume. “For us.”

Thinking about his sickness last week, Eddie can’t help but feel humiliated and weak. He’s still embarrassed that you saw him in such a state; frustrated that he needed assistance with even the simplest of tasks; and… grateful, despite it all. You stuck with him in the following few days, giving him medication when needed and ensuring he had enough to eat and drink. You were a constant presence, to the point where Eddie found you asleep on the armchair in his living room numerous times. That sight will be forever burned into his brain: the peaceful expression on your face as your chest rose and fell calmly. He had never seen you look so vulnerable before; and even in the midst of his sickness and the ensuing vulnerability he was forced to show, he felt himself wanting to protect you. It was a foolish thought: Eddie knew you were more than capable of protecting yourself. But perhaps it was just the domesticity of it all—the thought of you becoming a permanent fixture in their life. 

Venom breaks him from his thoughts with a gentle tap at his wrist. Eddie recalls their prior statement and hums. “They did care for us,” he agrees. Venom crawls down his forearm, stretching to inhabit the space between his fingers in what he assumes to be an imitation of hand-holding. There’s an unsettled energy to the symbiote’s presence. Eddie feels a frown overtake his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“It was too quiet.” Venom’s confession settles in the air around him, inhabiting every nook and cranny of his dimly-lit apartment. 

“Sorry,” Eddie eventually murmurs. He’s not sure why he’s apologizing, when the sickness wasn’t under his control. But that tone in Venom’s voice provokes guilt and remorse in him, for reasons he can’t quite elucidate. 

“Don’t do it again.” Venom commands. 

“I don’t really have control over that,” Eddie huffs, attempting to diffuse the sudden tension that settled over the space. Venom lets out a threatening growling noise and he quickly caves. “Fine, fine. I’ll try.”

“Try.” Venom repeats, equal amounts of wry amusement and frustration in their voice. Eddie just hums in response, grasping the symbiote’s tendrils with renewed vigor. Now that he thinks about it, Venom seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn during his sickness: as if they were afraid of pushing him too far past the brink of his energy.

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers again. Venom tightens their grip on his hand in response, and the two of them sit there for a long time after—hands conjoined and fates lovingly intertwined. 

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to thank you until a few days later, when he’s sure his sickness is gone and can safely dismiss the thought of getting you sick. Eddie and Venom meet Agony and you as the sun sets over the horizon, in the same spot where you first met all that time ago. 

Standing under the flickering street light in the park once more, Eddie is unspeakably thankful that he took a chance on you. He can’t imagine where he would be now, without your support. The thought dominates his mind, to the point where he finds himself uttering it aloud moments later. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Eddie says. 

“You’d be just fine,” you remark with a smile. The way you look at him only adds more fuel to the fire of Eddie’s foolish hopes. When he sees that gleam in your eyes, he can’t help but envision a shared existence: not among two beings, but among four. The thought is misguided and horribly insistent, popping up during the most inopportune of moments. 

Eddie sighs. “I’m serious,” he maintains, trying to convey his sincerity. It seems to work, because you pause and look at him with widening eyes. “I- I couldn’t have done this alone. We couldn’t have done this alone.” Eddie corrects himself, when he can sense Venom about to object. The symbiote drags a tendril down his ribs, in an approving movement that makes his heart race. 

“I’m happy I met you,” you admit. “Selfishly speaking.” Agony crawls up your skin and pops out of your shoulder; Venom does the same, and the two have a conversation in a chittering language that Eddie and you can’t hope to understand. Meanwhile, Eddie is unable to deny your magnetic presence; he can’t help but gravitate towards you. He takes a step closer—past a socially acceptable distance—and stops, trying to study your expression and ascertain your comfort. Eventually, he surrenders and decides to just speak his thoughts.

“Can I…?” Eddie breaks off, unsure of what he’s asking for at the present moment. His thoughts are quickly cascading into a territory far past platonic companionship, but suppressing them is a lost cause. He’s spent too long denying himself the life he wants. Venom crawls up his chest and stretches across his shoulders in a reassuring gesture. Comforted by the reminder of Venom’s presence, Eddie clears his throat and summons the courage to finish his sentence. “Can I kiss you?”

You take a step closer, rendering the distance between the two of you nearly nonexistent. Your hand falls to his forearm and Eddie looks into your eyes, a nervous anticipation running through him as he sees you nod in agreement. “Yes.” You whisper, so quietly that Eddie nearly convinces himself that he imagined it. But before he can second-guess himself, you’re closing the gap between you and kissing him. 

You’re standing so close together that the two of you are practically fusing. Eddie’s hands fall to your waist; your hands cradle his jaw. Agony and Venom prickle along their partners’ shoulders, dripping down your chests and mixing together. Distantly, Eddie remembers how lost and alone he felt when Venom first fused with him. He has long grown out of the feeling, and wonders if, perhaps, that sensation was trying to tell him something. Perhaps, this entire time, existence was meant to be shared amongst three others—rather than just one. 

These philosophical thoughts quickly fade to the back of his mind, as your fingers trace his jaw and slip down to the nape of his neck. Venom rises to meet your hand, just as Agony trickles down your side and runs along Eddie’s knuckles. One realization immediately takes precedence over everything else running through Eddie’s mind: 

He’s never felt so alive.

endnotes: this is definitely the queerest fic I've ever written. and I love it.

Me: I can hardly write kissing scenes with two people. My writer’s brain, cackling: Hear me out. What about… two people and two symbiotes? Me: What. The. Fuck.

thanks for reading! <3

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[lampiche]

An Aventurine-centric analysis of the 2.1 Trailblaze Quest - Part 2

This is so late I’m sorry :( Life has been keeping me busy and I just didn’t have the time to look over this one last time and post it. I focused only a small part this time because nothing else interested me in the quest. Plus, next up is All the Sad Tales, and I feel like that’s gonna take a massive amount of time… It’s probably gonna be divided in two parts! Anyway, enjoy my rambling!

Warning : Spoilers for Honkai Star Rail’s 2.1 Trailblaze Quest “Cat Among Pigeons” (still putting it here just in case)

Part 2 : Heaven is a Place on Earth

Memory

Indifferent Male: So, No. 35, you're back. Like your new lucky charm?

Aventurine: ...Can a "commodity code" really be considered a lucky charm?

→ I don’t actually have much to say about these lines, except that I searched the meaning or symbolism of the number 35 and I found none. The number 34 is more interesting, but I’ll talk about it later ! (See line 3)

→ Other than that, the whole dialogue talks a lot about luck, and there’s definitely something ironic about Aventurine’s master referring to his (Aventurine) mark as a lucky charm in these lines. It’s obviously mocking, a way to taunt Aventurine for being someone’s property even though he’s naturally lucky. Also, it’s another way to tell him that his luck is meant to be used, specifically for or by someone else. There’s basically a double layer to the way Aventurine’s master strips him of his identity and freedom. Also, with the link made between the commodity code and Aventurine’s luck, the latter appears as something oppressive, that binds Aventurine to a certain path. His luck is not shown in a positive light but as something that brings him trouble, exactly the way he sees it in the present.

2. Indifferent Male: The guys in black didn't say much, so I've no idea what you did to save your skin in that massacre back in the day.

Indifferent Male: But I figured you must have had good luck, so I bought you. From now on, you and your good luck are MY assets. Are we clear?

→ Nothing much to say here, except that it’s once again so ironic that the IPC, who said they would protect the Avgins, ended up selling Aventurine to this guy. And the fact that Aventurine ends up being forced to join the IPC in the end makes it even more twisted, it shows he’s always just been the property of the IPC all along, even if he was in the hands of someone else.

→ Also, Aventurine’s luck is again shown as something detrimental to him, the reason he was bought by this guy in the first place, so by extension the reason he became a slave. Throughout the whole memory, we’re really shown that Aventurine’s luck has never been an asset for him, even though the Avgins considered it a blessing.

3. Indifferent Male: Your first task is simple. In addition to you, I've purchased thirty... well, thirty-four other slaves.

Indifferent Male: Go and play a "game" with them. You came [sic] out alive after two days. It proves that you are the real deal.

→ So, like I said before, the number 35 doesn’t have a meaning, but 34 does. First, in ancient Egypt, the number 34 represented the union of heaven and earth. And the name of the quest is “Heaven is a place on Earth”. However, it could easily be a coincidence. But then I kept reading, and I saw that in Sumerian culture, the number 34 was associated with divine protection and spiritual strength. So obviously, I made the link between “divine protection” and “luck”. It seems that these lines are saying that Aventurine doesn’t just prove his luck to the man who bought him by killing the 34 other slaves, but also reinforces his luck. Basically, killing people gives Aventurine more luck. Once again, Aventurine’s luck only benefits him and no one else, putting him on a pedestal while other people suffer. This time it’s even worse because he directly participates in others’ suffering in the name of his luck. He’s no longer a bystander that could do nothing, he’s straight up a murderer. So we’re once again led to believe that Aventurine’s luck is more of a curse than a blessing.

→ Also, the use of the word “game” to replace the act of killing definitely has some meaning. It gives a twisted dimension to the death of the other slaves, making them look like a form of entertainment. Also, it puts the killer, Aventurine, in the position of the victor. “Game” has a positive connotation, so Aventurine’s survival is seen as a good thing, even though he had to kill everyone else to win. This definitely affected the way he values life, but also the way he approaches games and gambles. And yes, you can definitely make a link with the “Final Victor” lightcone.

4. Indifferent Male: Hahaha, are you trying to strike a bet with me? Well, you've got some guts!

Indifferent Male: Sorry, but that won't do. Don't forget your place, slave. You're not qualified to be at the table.

Indifferent Male: You're just a chip, a life thrown away in someone else's hands. Either you come back with more chips for your master, or... you never come back.

→ In these lines, there’s more vocabulary related to gambling. But just like before, the game, the gamble, is associated with the risk of losing your life, which probably shaped Aventurine’s mentality. It’s also possible that Aventurine gambles specifically because he knows that it’s the only game in which he has control over his life. Meaning that gambling is his way of no longer belonging to anybody except himself. If his life is a chip, then it’s his own and no one else’s.

5. Indifferent Male: It's all or nothing. Don't embarrass me, my lucky hound.

→ This line caught my attention. I find it pretty interesting that Aventurine uses the sentence “all or nothing” pretty often despite the fact that he probably heard it from this guy originally. Why would he regularly use a sentence that was used against him in the first place? I think it’s for the same reason as before : it’s his way of being in control of himself. There’s no longer someone to force him to follow that mentality, he’s the one who does it because he’s his own master. By claiming that sentence as his own, he’s probably showing off his freedom, or at least it’s his way of reminding himself that he’s free to a certain extent.

→ Last thing that’s not related to any line in particular, but for some reason in this memory the name that appears on top of Aventurine’s lines is “Aventurine”, whereas in the next memory, the one with Jade, the name “Kakavasha” is written on top of his lines when he speaks. Which is just strange. This memory is the only one where “Aventurine” is written on top of his lines, all of the others say “Kakavasha”. It might just be an error, but I don’t see how they could have messed it up for only one memory. I’m thinking that it could be a way to underline how this moment shaped Aventurine’s beliefs and actions up until the present, but I’m not really sure. If anybody has suggestions, do drop them!

[valorxdrive]

Gotta speak my truth.

A reason why the passion has dwindled on this blog, why I've sought other avenues. It hasn't really been the drought of content as much as the issue in what's already here. In short, it's the new angle of SQ's direction with the KH series that leaves me uncertain.

It all begins with a game called KH3, moreso, how it really feels like it was a title that didn't care about itself in terms of a grand finale or the fans who wanted a solid conclusion before a new chapter.

I genuinely dislike it with a whole lot of my heart.

I'll dip into why down below! Stick around for the ride if ya like.

I've sat here across the years genuinely contemplating it. Seeing people heavily defend it (myself too at one point), though who abhorred it for seeing things sooner (or just took it too far.) Had discussion with friends and it truly clicked to me what bothered me so much with the KH3 title.

It genuinely does not give a fuck. In a bizarre way, this is the first time I've seen a video game, even with it's complicated history that's just so utterly prepared to be finished with itself.

What struck me the most about this is how done it was with dealing with Xehanort as an antagonist. Bringing no connection with him to the worlds, or to the main cast, how he was simply relegated to the hurdle that had to be surpassed. This in kind extends to the heroes dealing with him too, that remains connected. So that brings the question, what did warrant all of their attention?

Verum Rex and Union X. Two aspects which are vividly 'new'-, the more exciting, new grounds to no longer have to bring concerns with the current epic that was being made.

The way these things were shoo'd in at the expense of the characters and the wonder of the KH world really miffs me. So much of the actual effort was made in turning KH3 into a springboard FOR these concepts, the new beginning and it allows for the keyblade war to be entrenched in a piss poor execution.

Another aspect I'd love to really dive on, being a Sora blog, is Sora's particular journey. This holds a firm eye towards the Disney worlds and mixing it with the cast of characters in there, and the KH originals. You can entirely omit the Disney journey and have literally nothing change. From the moment you hop from Yen Sid's tower, to the moment you go and save Aqua, this part of the game from the story perspective is entirely pointless. To those who care about the story. To those who CARE about disney 1 for 1's (like singing Let it go in new graphics fml), who are more concerned about the shiny new Verum Rex (vs XIII reboot) or the perspective of the Union X things, it'd be a fine enough meal.

I want to actually dig into why however. It's a simple angle, they don't care about his current goals in lieu of bringing shiny new worlds in akin to jingling car keys. The goal of finding a means to bring Roxas back, and in order to draw back the Power of Waking that found itself lost in DDD.

Both of these don't require external adventures. It needs insight, it needs the retracting of old grounds, and I'm damn sure that the perspective of Disney was not going to allow for that. So on this front unless a heavy push was warranted, I genuinely wouldn't of seen it changing. How are you going to find clues for Roxas in Arendelle for example?

Unless Sora has more Heart related ventures after each world, what in the fuck was this roaming going to do to unlock the power of waking again? A journey to find something important in KH is usually coupled by heavy character development, a way they come to re-look at how they see the surrounding world, their situation and themselves. The fact that a completely unrelated situation from Sora, despite his caring nature was the trigger to unlocking this.

For Ventus's disembodied heart to say it was always there was a pitchfork through the heart of this.

The fact that they've always said that recovering this power was essential for saving Aqua, when you literally can hop in and kick her butt, prompt no connection of ripping corruption away or anything via the Power of Waking says more than enough. You genuinely see that by the end of a lot of main cast characters being nods to the audience, or bots made for exposition, they've outright abandoned these concepts before your eyes.

I genuinely could continue on but this has become bloated.

For the journey for the current cast, the premise of KH3 is perfect as an adventure and inevitable showdown, but the execution is atrocious (the raw lack of opposing parties facing each other, showcasing the threat of Xehanort set to end all reality), and would genuinely require an entire game overhaul. Again, the execution. This extends to so much of the story decisions, to a LOT of the gameplay (whole dif can of worms) on top of that. I've really needed to recognize this and really have my genuinely lens set on it, no other opinions diluting my opinion on the matter.

I can understand why people who KH3 has the laughing stock/joke of the series.

Recognizing this has felt refreshing to me. It gives me a more distinct image that down the line, I really don't mind taking a canon divergent perspective at all. The mythos of KH and so much it has built is a fever dream of the best proportions, I however, genuinely want to carry on that I tenderly love which has always been the try and true flame of this series. I won't let nostalgia blind me, nor the ~future excitement~ either.

My nostalgia and my value as a fan is worth something to me. Nomura and co genuinely have to begin cooking again for me to gamble in that corner again.

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

Wakes up in a cold sweat

Axiom Verge 1 is a subversion of the classic masculine power fantasy, while Axiom Verge 2 subverts the classic feminine one.

Hear me out. First let's define both really simply. The masculine power fantasy is essentially one of becoming one's own self, and exerting their power upon the world in their name. The feminine power fantasy is one of union, nurturing and caring for another. We can further simplify these ideals into two lines. The masculine power fantasy is to kill the father. The feminine is to save the daughter.

That's the most barebones description but it's just to get us off on the right foot. Essay below the cut going into detail

In AV1 we follow Trace. All along we're set up with a simple idea, Trace must survive, grow to master his environment and his abilities, and go on to slay his foes. The Rusalki.

Wait what?

Yes, the Rusalki are a controlling force on Trace. For him to fight his way into the masculine power fantasy he must use his power to buck the control of another and choose for himself what is right. But that's not what happens. In fact, he works with them. Why?

Athetos is the final position, the ultimate masculine form of Trace. He makes clones of himself and each fail to become. They're stripped of name and identity and these "lesser selves" are now subservient only to Athetos. The Father. The Master. If Trace wishes to become a man, he must prove himself unconquerable and stand evenly with Athetos.

That's the nightmare segment. We see Trace literally chasing after an ideal self he can't keep up with. We see him become one of the failed clone monsters and experience being a puppet, it's the masculine nightmare. He is a failure, he will be subsumed, he must become his perceived ideal self.

But it's all a trap. Trace doesn't just man up and beat the toxin that's mutating him. He has help from Ophelia. See, there's been a secret this entire time in the background, have you caught it?

When Trace finds his mutated other selves, he tries to reason and they will not listen. They're caught up in the masculine narrative and there are only two ways out of it. Destroy Athetos, or change the script.

Trace, who has been nurturing and healing the Rusalki despite their power over him. Trace who has to use his understanding, and for whom a boss fight isn't glorious single combat. Trace who bears the ultimate yonic symbol in the Axiom Disruptor. Guns are generally phallic symbols but this one's design but this one disrupts (heh) the narrative symbology to a different one.

Empathy, sacrifice, and grace are often hallmarks of the feminine power fantasy. There is much to be said about whether these are healthy themes but for now, in present moment, that's often what they are. It is in showing empathy to his failed clones that he finds purpose beyond meager violence to face Athetos. It's through empathy that he connects with Elsenova and the other Rusalki who then grant him the power of making connections to defeat his foe. He sacrifices his own pride and it allows him to see the world for what it truly is rather than a playground to be remade in his image. The address disruptor may seem a tool to do just that at first, but in actuality it cannot change what has not already been changed. Most of all, he sacrifices his ultimate masculine form in Athetos, refusing to become powerful to become understanding. His method is not to subjugate his potential lesser selves and become the standout example but simply to be, in the world he is in.

Indra is taken by the hand along the path of the feminine. She comes to rescue her daughter and must work under the mercy of the Arms. A class of people who have power, and power over her as a kind of patriarchy. Indra! A world-class CEO is now a victim of a system and a culture that simply doesn't value her for what she is.

And just like Trace, the further she goes along this path the more misled she is. She is expected to sacrifice everything, even her life for her daughter. She must care for Damu and balance catering to the desires of the figuratively-masculine Amashilama.

Trace suffered being the victim of toxic masculinity. Becoming isolated and dejected and discarded. Indra becomes the victim of toxic femininity, sacrificing until there is nothing left to give. She is used for her body and her mind is a discarded, useless thing. But it is from that mind that Indra flips her own script.

She remakes her body in her image, as she likes. Have you noticed the hacking tool that makes her the master of her demesne? The phallic symbol of the ice pick? Each tool she has leads her closer to her destiny and the more she makes a name for herself the more empowered she becomes, to the point she makes her own name for herself in the world. Everything Indra is given puts her in the position of that brave and empowered masculine, even and especially, the ending.

Should I talk about how Indra's body is used so that Amalshilama can get at her real goal? The next generation of Arms. How she is literally used to produce and bequeath the next age to the patriarchal Arms? At how Indra's past self takes on the feminine role of sacrifice and fulfills the idea of motherhood by reuniting with her daughter, and how that leaves our mechanical Indra free to pursue her name? (Presumably Ophelia?)

Indra's pursuit saves her life, in a sense, and she becomes greater than the simple story she was placed into. As Trace did. As they both did and in so doing did not become victims of masculinity and femininity. In fact, all throughout their games they win by pushing past the constraints humanity would place on them.

And just. AUGH. The symbolism! The way Trace carries larva on his back being "injected into". The way Indra is given actual soldier's weaponry. The way Sudra is still until the Disruptor is picked up, almost a symbol of beginning life. The way Indra seeks a way to allow Damu to build a body and follow in her example. To literally make himself.

Axiom Verge is so good actually.

[satansluckycigarette]

As a working class American living below the poverty line: fuck Bernie and Pelosi both! There is absolutely no excuse to vote for an ultra-nationalist like Trump: if you voted for him, you are trash. Plain and simple. Trump let Americans die in the streets during covid, and it was absolutely not cheaper before then. I was lucky. I was an essential worker during 2020, and I managed to stay employed throughout Trump's first term. I struggled to pay a $500 rent despite that. Biden raised my wages because Indiana follows federal wage law. When Bernie says that didn't happen: he is a fucking liar.

Another lie Sanders pushes is to say Biden is anti-union. That is complete and utter bullshit. Biden signed executive orders strengthening unions in his first ninety days and is the first president to have ever marched in a Labor strike. To say otherwise is to deny facts that you can just Google. Sanders is a fucking liar who is afraid of losing the white Vermont vote and he can eat shit.

Pelosi is no better if she wants to deny that corruption exists within the party. Hiding from internal problems is a guarantee path to failure every time. The way I see it: they are both looking for ways to make nice with the incoming regime. Fuck them. The Democrats are not going to save us and real leftists have known that for decades.

Why did Harris lose? She didn't get the same votes Biden did in 2020. Plain and simple. Trump's margins did not increase- every body who voted him did it again. Why didn't Biden voters vote for Harris: four reasons:

1. Gaza. Obviously. You can't win the Palestinian vote when you're giving money to the people murdering their friends and family.

2. The Border. Obviously. You can't win the Latino vote when everyone remembers the day you went to the border and cheered on the mounted cavalry you sicced on their friends and family.

3. Sexism/racism. Liberal men suck just as hard as conservative men. Cis straight men are trash: any idiot could've told you that.

4. Appealing to centrists. Obviously. There is no middle ground between us and the people threatening to kill us. Attempting to find that middle ground makes you look weak. Obviously.

Trying to pretend anything else happened is ignorant at best and pandering to Fascists at worst, and wasting time arguing about who really screwed the pooch here does nothing to protect the people that Trump will kill. The Democrats as a whole fucked up for very glaringly obvious reasons. Sanders and Pelosi are equally guilty.

For the real average American and everyone else fucking terrified right now: don't cry, organize. The IWW, The Socialist Rifle Association, and whatever you and your friends can think to do to fight back and stay alive are all more helpful than anything the Democrats are going to come up with anytime soon. Stay furious.

[catboy-bride]

my ada wong headcannon masterlist

warning - this is kinda long and yes it will be going all over the place, small tw for a vague mention of self-harm

also please feel free to add any of your ada hcs, i wanna hear them !!

general stuff

mtf trans

even though "ada wong" was initially a pseudonym (something she used actually pre-transition), she pretty much considers it her real name at this point

she's originally from hong kong but spend a fair amount of time in mainland china as well as a few countries in the former soviet union as a teen

speaks several languages besides english but is most fluent in mandarin chinese, cantonese, russian, polish, spanish, french, and japanese

things about her that make me want to scream and cry

she has very specific methods she uses to ground herself in order to keep her composure

tensing every muscle one at a time from her jaw to her feet, and if interrupted it can make her lash out 

she pinches herself to force herself to focus

she avoids certain foods that she associates with her life before abandoning her original identity

she also just avoids eating things that she didn't make out of a general paranoia of being poisoned

double or even triple checks that her weapons are on her person as well as their functionality due to a past slip-up

paranoid of wiretaps/people having hidden microphones and obsessively searches people (usually leon) which she often does under the guise of initiating romantic interactions

repeats the same phrase in every language she knows as another way to ground herself and it can again make her lash out if she is interrupted

over time she's trained herself out of showing any emotion which leads to really unhealthy was of emotional release that typically involve indirect forms of self harm

she was really upset by luis' death, as she had grown to see him as a friend and even possibly as a lover, but had to disguise her feelings to avoid showing weakness to krauser and wesker

in fact she very seriously thought about going to desprate measures in order to save luis through the use of one of the virus samples she had collected, but decided against it because she knew how wrong and twisted reanimated human life could be

she's saved leon more times than he or even the audience knows, even on smaller missions, if she learns that leon is out doing government work, she will (directly or indirectly) keep an eye on him to make sure he's okay

no matter how much time has passed, she still can't fully explain why she saved leon the first time in 1998

other tidbits :3

ada was a gymnast from early childhood into her teen years

part of the reason she dresses in a very hyper-feminine (specifically in re2 and re4) was to curb dysphoria, even to the point of being impractical, although overtime she learns how to make the outfits practical (ie; the blade hidden in her heel in damnation)

learned how to play violin, flute, and piano when she was younger but only really remembers how to play piano

she is a very giggly (but emotionally unpredictable)

her ideal date would be either going to a very fancy opera/orchestra performance or a very simple home movie night

she's only genuinely ever really let her guard down around leon and to a slightly lesser degree luis

she's been "romantic" with many people but has only really had a few intimate relationships, those being with wesker, leon, and luis

wesker was absolutely smitten with her for a while and she very much used that to her advantage

she's a vers top c:

ik this is more of a leon hc but she was leon's first

she enjoys classical music but sometimes listens to shitty 90s/2000s emo/rock because it reminds her of leon

she cannot stand certain textures of fabric

a lot of her clothing is custom made because it's hard to find clothes that are cute and practical that also use fabrics with palatable textures

in re2 she clocked the shit out of leon even before seeing that he was binding so she kept trying to drop hints that she was also trans but since leon is a little bit bad at picking up on implicit tone she eventually had to just straight up tell him

[dionysus-complex]

good story as ever from Adam Serwer:

--

There’s an expression reporters use, that you’ve “reported yourself out of a story.” That is, you had a hunch or a tip about something, but when you checked the facts, the story didn’t pan out. Sometimes, though, reporters stick to the narrative they’ve decided on in advance, and they don’t let facts get in the way.

The United Auto Workers union is striking for a better contract. The combination of a tight labor market and President Joe Biden’s pro-labor appointees to the National Labor Relations Board has given workers new leverage, leading workers in writers’ rooms, kitchens, and factories to demand more from their employers. This has been broadly beneficial, because many of the gains made by union workers benefit other workers.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, it was Biden who went to support the striking autoworkers, joining a union picket line—something not even his most pro-union predecessors in the White House had ever done. “You saved the automobile industry back in 2008 and before. You made a lot of sacrifices. You gave up a lot. And the companies were in trouble,” Biden told the striking workers Tuesday. “But now they’re doing incredibly well. And guess what? You should be doing incredibly well too. It’s a simple proposition.”

A president on the picket line, telling workers they deserved to share in the wealth they had helped create, was a genuinely historic moment. Franklin Roosevelt didn’t do this. It’s shocking that Biden did.

But that wasn’t as interesting for many in the political press as the hypothetical story, the one that didn’t happen: a Republican presidential candidate winning over striking autoworkers by supporting their struggle for a better contract. Trump didn’t do that. In fact, Trump, who governed as a viciously anti-union president even by Republican standards, chose to visit a nonunion shop to give a campaign speech in which he said, “I don’t think you’re picketing for the right thing,” and told them it wouldn’t make “a damn bit of difference” what they got in their contract, because the growth in electric-vehicle manufacturing would put them out of work.

Telling striking workers that they should give up trying to get a better deal is not supporting workers or supporting unions; it is textbook union-busting rhetoric that anyone who has ever been in a union or tried to organize one would recognize. In other words, Trump did not go to Michigan to support striking workers at all. He did what cheap rich guys do every day: He told people who work for a living to be afraid of losing what little they have instead of trying to get what they deserve. This is not comparable to, nor is it even in the same galaxy as, supporting workers on a picket line. It is a poignant metaphor for the emptiness of right-wing populism when it comes to supporting workers—a cosplay populism of superficial “working class” aesthetics that ends up backing the bosses instead of the workers.

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 497

John 1:4

DIVINE ORDER 62: Law Of The Tree Of Knowledge 10

Gen 2:16-17 But the LORD told him, "You may eat fruit from any tree in the garden, EXCEPT THE ONE THAT HAS THE POWER TO LET YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RIGHT AND WRONG. IF YOU EAT ANY FRUIT FROM THAT TREE, YOU WILL DIE BEFORE THE DAY IS OVER!" CEV

COMPLETE LAW 3

Again, I would like to stress that all of creation is set by Laws and Principles, and cannot perform well when they go outside the parameters of their guiding Laws.

Take the concept of Motion and Energy for instance, they only have identity when they are seen operating within their Laws.

So how could Man hope to be without “compelling” Laws?

1Co 9:21 To those who are without the law I became like someone who is without the law. I did this to help save those who are without the law. (BUT REALLY, I AM NOT WITHOUT GOD'S LAW—I AM RULED BY THE LAW OF CHRIST.) ERV

Apostle Paul was sharing the experience of preaching the Gospel to men who never had Mosaic Laws, but he was careful to add that he was strictly under God’s Divine Laws himself.

Even if the Law by Moses was completely abolished, we can’t disregard the fact that Jesus has established Law by the Gospel, can we?

Rom 8:2 For THE LAW OF THE SPIRIT, WHICH BRINGS US LIFE IN UNION WITH CHRIST JESUS, has set me FREE from THE LAW OF SIN AND DEATH. GNB

Now that Jesus is the Perfection of the LAW, we can easily be set FREE. Now, in Christ Jesus, the Law makes all Perfect.

But you see, I have a question: if indeed the Law [then] made nothing perfect, as we’ve read from the scripture shown again below, how did people like Enoch experience profound Righteousness and fellowship with the Holy God?

Heb 7:19 FOR THE LAW HAS NEVER MADE ANYONE PERFECT, but IN ITS PLACE IS A FAR BETTER HOPE WHICH GIVES US CONFIDENCE TO EXPERIENCE INTIMACY WITH GOD! TPT

The answer is simple! Jesus is same yesterday, and today, and forever.

Therefore, the true Law of Righteousness, which is according to Faith, came before even the Law of Moses.

The covenant with Abraham was based on that Law, and was before Moses was even born.

Gal 3:8 AND THE SCRIPTURE, FORESEEING THAT GOD WOULD JUSTIFY THE HEATHEN THROUGH FAITH, PREACHED BEFORE THE GOSPEL UNTO ABRAHAM, saying, In thee shall all nations be blessed. KJV

Before the Law and Gospel came, God manifested the Tenets of the Gospel: “justification by Faith” to Abraham.

So the Law of the Spirit of Righteousness had been manifest to people who had good relationship with God from the beginning.

That Context of “The LAW” made Enoch, Joseph, Daniel, Job etc PERFECT even before Jesus arrived here.

Gen 5:22,24 After that, ENOCH LIVED IN FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD FOR 300 YEARS and had other children…HE SPENT HIS LIFE IN FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD, AND THEN HE DISAPPEARED, BECAUSE GOD TOOK HIM AWAY. GNB

Of course there are Rules to walking with God, aren’t there?

Mic 6:8 You mortals, the LORD has told you what is good. THIS IS WHAT THE LORD REQUIRES FROM YOU: to DO WHAT IS RIGHT, to LOVE MERCY, and to LIVE HUMBLY WITH YOUR GOD. GW

Before Jesus and the Grace dispensation came, many men, Kings and servants of God have been acknowledged as faithful in their walk with God.

They kept the “real” LAW.

Mal 2:6-7 THE LAW OF TRUTH WAS IN HIS MOUTH, AND INIQUITY WAS NOT FOUND IN HIS LIPS: he walked with me in peace and equity, and did turn many away from iniquity. FOR THE PRIEST'S LIPS SHOULD KEEP KNOWLEDGE, AND THEY SHOULD SEEK THE LAW AT HIS MOUTH: FOR HE IS THE MESSENGER OF THE LORD OF HOSTS. KJV

But the contentions between the Flesh and Spirit in Man just keeps disrupting the sweet fellowship men could have with their God, especially when men easily succumb.

Rom 7:22-23 For I delight in the law of God in my inner being. But I see a different law in my members waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that is in my members. NET

That’s how David, Abraham, Jacob and many more, fell into demeaning errors that broke fellowship.

I pray for you beloved: nothing will be able to weaken the fellowship which you are building with God. Rather, it will only get stronger by the day, IN JESUS NAME.

Come back on Wednesday, as we proceed in digging into this inspiring Subtopic.

Brother Prince

Monday, April 15, 2024

08055125517; 08023904307

[seashoreshell]

I originally wanted to write a long, well thought out pseudo-analysis on what makes Thane's story work. However, I also wanted to get it out before his awakened form is released and it's the case that I'll spontaneously combust if given any sort if deadline so here's a ramble instead.

(While I have beef™️ with the webcomic because of all this, I'm not going to touch on that. I'll also pretend that I'm not inhaling every chapter the minute they're released. [edit] I was proven delightfully wrong and I've now come around on the webcomic.)

Now I'll be honest and admit that his backstory is a very simple one, although that's the exact thing I think it has going for it. It's the age old tale of a prodigy who arrives at the false conclusion that since nobody have bested him yet, there is nobody who can best him. He's proud, reckless and blinded by hubris, and that eventually lands him in a sticky situation when he overestimate his own abilities and gets unceremoniously disarmed (pun intended). And if this was a fair story Thane would bear the consequences of his mistakes alone. But he doesn't.

The fact that Baden sacrifice his own life to save Thane isn't only heartbreaking in the sense that somebody so dear to him died due to his own folly, but that this person was, for all intents and purposes, a better man than him. That's not to say that Thane was a particularly bad person. His deceptively aloof charade hides a heart that cares deeply, and he's fiercely loyal to a fault, but Baden was the archetypical "shining star of tomorrow". A born leader that's humble, gracious and kind, and whose bearings can lead the people towards a bright future. What was lost wasn't only a loved one, but the hope of the Rayne family and by extension mankind as well. It's another reason why Thane attempts to atone by dedicating his loyalty and servitude the Rayne family. It's perfectly understandable that he's riddled with such a survivor's guilt that he's downright suicidal, yet death cannot absolve him of this "crime", and so he's chained down by his inability to make amends.

Baden's sacrifice is what cause the destruction of Thane's "ego". Through its destruction he's forced to re-examine how he views himself, the world and those around him. The pieces of his old "self" will be used to rebuild it, and since Baden is the catalyst of this transformation Thane's new "self" will be informed by this. For better or worse.

What this story does that makes it compelling to me (beyond what I've written), is that it sets up for an interesting and powerful character arc. The potential of where this story can go is hands down its best quality.

His story has been expanded bit by bit over the years. In Thane and Estrilda's union story we see the importance she holds to him, how he sees a piece of Baden in her eyes, and how his strict and detached manners didn't conceal how teaching her made him happier. Estrilda represents the future that was lost when Baden died. She has his character, his virtues and determination, and her dearest wish is to restore the glory of her family. In that sense, guiding Estrilda is Thane's way of repaying his self-imposed debt. But it goes beyond this.

As we learn more about them it's clear that Thane cares greatly for her. When she's acknowledged by the King and finally starts walking her own path, Thane is gripped by worry. Perhaps since he sees Baden in her, he's afraid she'll meet a similar fate to him. Even so he supports her with unwavering conviction, and lets her choose her own path. She eventually proves herself to him in a sparring match, winning against him for the first time since they met. At that point, Thane realizes he's taught her all he can, and there's little else he can do. She's ready, and the future of the Raynes are safe in her hands. She has to brave the future on her own, and thus he has to let her go. This part of the 'debt' comes to a close, but his arc is still not concluded.

Estrilda is not a convenient way for him to clear his conscience. She's one part of the puzzle, but there's another important piece remaining. The person who'll bring the cycle of pain, guilt and debts to a close can be none other than Baden himself.

Since Baden is now a Graveborn, he can't be the "tomorrow's star of Rayne" he once was. He's doomed to walk the rest of his undetermined existence in a state of gradual decay, having no home in the Lightbearer society or with the Graveborn of Bantus. On top of having such an achingly lonely fate, he's trapped in his own body, only being able to watch as the lich who doomed him to this unlife stain his hands with the blood of others. His fate is so incredibly cruel, and the one who has the power to make it easier to bear is Thane. Like Thane will be Baden's salvation, Baden will be Thane's in return. Salvation for salvation, giving and receiving in equal measure.

It's almost poetic how Thane's arc begins and ends with Baden. He's the source of his anguish, and he'll be the one to save him from it. The cycle will be come to a close when Baden is freed from the lich and Thane takes his place by his side. From then on and onward, there will be no more debts and untimely sacrifices. From what I can discern from awakened Thane's trailer, that seems to be the direction they'll be going in. There's a direct callback to the tragedy that started it all through a parallel where Baden yet again attempts to save Thane by putting himself in danger. This time, however, Thane will save him in return. There's an emphasis on "side-by-side, together." All hardship, pain and loss of the past, all will be shouldered by both going forward.

I'm just, so emotional about the fact that Thane originally wanted to die for Baden so he could clear his conscience, but what he'll need to do in the end is to live for him. These two Istg.

[glitterytidalwavedragon]

Sesshomaru x Human Head Cannon

So here is my first Headcannon for our big and powerful Demon General. Firstly, I wanted to say that I am very excited to add to the Inuyasha content on both tumblr and on AO3. From what I saw there wasn’t many on AO3 and here, there are a few consistent people who do headcannons or one-shots. I am excited to join them in spreading the love for one of the most icon characters in anime.

This head cannon is a relationship one, based on the manga more than the anime. I love the anime, but the final act just kills me. I often call it Inuyasha-on-fast forward. But anyway, here it is!

Let’s start with a human companion first. Sesshomaru is literally heading down the same road as his father, one way or another, so a human shouldn’t be too surprising. This will also take into consideration the lore of the dog-demons his kind is based on.

For Sesshomaru to be impacted by a human, there has to of been a service of some kind provided to him by the person. Should it be that you aided one of his wards or himself, doing such will have the demon lord have the smallest amount of respect for the human.

Another way to grab this demon’s attention is to be powerful. Human or not, all creatures are able to obtain power either by training or some other force. But a human who sells themselves for power will never be respected. This power had to be either given at birth, trained for, or earned. A human that can hold themselves well will get respect of some kind from the demon.

Let a human gain respect with him, it would not be unusual for that person to sometimes accompany them on short journeys. It is during these outings does Sesshomaru either get closer or more distant to his human.

As time passes, it will not matter if the human is strong or not. If Sesshomaru had declared the human as part of his wards or pack he will aid in defending or protecting them.

One of the things Sesshomaru can not stand is false flattery, lies in any way (as when he had to do it, he found it beneath him), and disloyalty. Even if its something that he wouldn’t like, he will respect those who give it to him straight rather than come up with excuses. Hell, he’ll even prefer silence over a lie.  

Loyalty, respect, and honesty. Give the demon lord all three and there is a chance for something to blossom.

Falling for a human is nothing he would just accept. Humans have been the death for many a strong demon, his father being the most notable victim of all. Sesshomaru see’s the trend, see’s the warning signs, and will not address the issue. Not. At. All.

Sesshomaru has to work out his emotions and deal with the stigma of being with a human. But there is hope.

Should Sesshomaru have already aided in the defeat of Naraku, then he knows he has surpassed his father. This could lead him to believe that he can succeed where his father failed. His father could not save himself and his wife; if Sesshomaru has surpassed the greatest demon whom ever lived, then he should be able to protect himself and his love. But this conclusion may take a while.

Sesshomaru’s love language is a hard one to place, but gift giving and acts of service seem to be there. It would start small. A knew outfit here or there. Maybe he wished to spoil his human with a fresh kill. Don’t expect it to be traditionally given. He’ll drop the kill, say its for tonight and order Jaken to prepare the animal. Its as random as it sounds.

When alone with him, there may be some causal touching. The wind caught their hair? He’ll gently take his clawed hand and tuck that lock of hair behind their ear. Cold? Without a word he will move closer so they can feel his warmth.  

On clear nights, Sesshomaru will ‘ask’ for you to walk with him with a simple ‘come’. The walks are long enough to lose the imp, but short enough that they can return to camp without the night being lost. Finding a comfortable place to sit, he will tell his human to do the same. No words would be exchanged on this point, at least not from him, and a night of stargazing will ensue.

He’ll also listen, to everything that comes out of their mouth. He won’t comment unless curiosity really grabs him, but mostly, he’ll let them talk uninterrupted unless danger appears.

Through these sublet actions, is how he will let the human of his affections know his attention has been grabbed. Confessions aren’t his thing, in fact, he is very poor at expressing much besides anger, displeasure and boredom. Comes from being a loof demon. But the human around him will be able to tell between his expressions.

Let the human not get the hint and try to wonder romantically, well. No.

Sesshomaru will make it clear with a swift action. A kiss either on the lips or the corner of. A gentle caress of one’s cheek or his nose nuzzling into their neck or hair. He will show affection if he must but would prefer for that to be in the privacy of home or in a thick forest.

When his human gets the hint, life will be blissful, but journeying does not stop. The best way for Sesshomaru to protect their human is for the human to be with him. Leaving them among humans puts them at risk, more so if the humans do not take kind to demons or half demon that may be born from the union. This human is his and will remain alive as long as possible.

When alone, there is a tenderness that can not be denied. While Sesshomaru might not spend hours holding his human, he will wrap them up in his fur, or nuzzle close to share each other’s warmth or scent. This only will occur if both are truly alone.

Sesshomaru loves his human, while it may never leave his lips, his actions and caring gestures speak volumes.

I hope you enjoyed my first Sesshomaru headcannon! I try my hardest to keep characters in character as they were originally written, so I hope I did it right. It’s been a very long time since I last written for the Sesshomaru fandom. I plan to write more and I do take request on reader type x Sesshomaru. Thanks for reading!!!

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙔 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

∘ request(s):

Ooh maybe edgy!karl teaching skateboarding :o. I’m also in uni and I remember my first frat party was quite interesting 😂 -🦋

ahhhh part four of your edgy karl was soooo good!!! could i get jealous karl? maybe someone else is hitting on the reader at a party

please please please more edgy!karl if u can. like maybe where him and reader get into a fight because he gets like jealous and he just shows the reader who they belong to fjsjjsj thankyouuu !! 🤍🪐 x

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, light bdsm, jealous, somewhat toxic behavior, crude language, frat boys (again), mentions of masterbation, biting, domination, spanking

∘ word count: ~3200

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: not me having to watch daddy tony hawk tutorials for this bc I'm uncultured and only skateboarded for like three months when I was 14 :)))

thank you for all the requests (especially 🦋 ily). if any of you have ideas for what I should call this series, lemme know! as always, have a great week and happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

The parking lot behind the campus union was barren. The morning dew in the air left a sweet smell to combine with Karl’s cologne as he walked beside you, his arm bumping yours as he listened to you nervously ramble on about one of your classes. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of falling on your ass in front of Karl terrified you more than anything. This man had degraded you and made you completely submit to him in the past, yet you were worried that not being able to master his ~craft~ would ruin his image of you. 

He dropped his skateboard, his feet settling on it lazily as he rolled beside you. You watched quietly as he stopped, kicking his foot down on the front of his board so it popped into his hand. “You won’t fall. I’ve got you,” he joshed, tugging on your hand so you were in front of him. 

He set the board down, his hands going to your hips as you stepped on it. His fingers dipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, your skin lighting up at his touch as if his hands belonged on you. “You look like an anemic Victorian boy. I don’t trust you as a safety net,” you grumbled, your hands covering his. You knew, roughly, how to skate from a middle school phase you had. Karl only promised to teach you a few tricks, but to say you were rusty would be an understatement. 

He chuckled darkly, nudging you closer to the middle of the board and peering over your shoulder to look at your stance. “I’ve fucked you without your feet touching the floor. I think I can catch you before you hit the ground, baby,” he chided, making you scoff. 

Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you mumbled. He instructed you on how to kick the board up to where you needed it. His words were simple and almost plain like he knew you could figure it out. You attempted to push the board up, but crashed into Karl’s arms, your back thumping against his chest. 

He giggled slightly as he straightened you up, setting you back on the board as his foot kept it from rolling out from under you. His hands hovered over your hips again as he moved his foot, leaving you to balance on your own. “If you fall correctly, people will just think you were giving really good head,” he jested. You shoved his arms away at his words as he laughed at his own joke. 

You attempted a few more times and nearly had it down before Karl’s hands were on your hips again, giving you further instructions. You fought not to smile as his breath ghosted against your neck. You knew he cared about teaching you something that---on paper---was seemingly so easy, but his vulgar teasing was beginning to swarm your head. With his next steps set as your goal as well as the feeling of his hold on you, you kicked the board up and attempted to jump with it. While your brain was up to speed, your feet weren’t, sending the board out from beneath you and you to fall into its place. 

Karl snorted as choked back a laugh at you scrapping your hands on the concrete. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Try again,” he chided, voice uneven and laced with whatever dark humor he was getting from watching you do this. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him tug you up in front of him. As you wobbled on the board once again, you let his hands dig into your sides. Obviously, it seemed that he actually was worried about dropping you again, despite the fact that he was holding back some kind of sick laugh. “You would be great at teaching a kid how to ride a bike,” you quipped, the fact that he called you a pussy seeping into your mind. 

You gasped slightly as you slipped again, this time Karl’s arms wrapping around you tightly, pressing your body against his. “Awe, you want me to put a baby in you, pet?” He jeered with his lips near your ear. You shrugged out of his grip, breaking up your indecent thoughts at his comment. 

You could feel the heat rising to your ears as you balanced on his skateboard again. “Stop, you perv,” you deflected, hoping he couldn’t tell how hard you were having to bite back a smirk. 

After your skateboarding escapades, you sat typing away at your computer, Karl occasionally looking over his phone to peer at you. His legs were thrown lazily on either side of you as he stretched out on his pillows. 

An alarm went off on Karl’s phone, startling you in the process. He fought against smirking at your surprise as he sat up, crawling over to you. “Okay, I gave you two hours,” he stated, leaning forward to press his lips against yours and gently close your computer. The taste of him on your tongue was like a drug for you, leaving you constantly wanting more. 

You smirked into his kiss as your brain finally caught up with you. “I hope that document saved, asshole,” you groaned, pushing him back into his pillows as he chuckled at you. His fingers dragged up the length of your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands as you straddled him. “Fucking weirdo, timing me. Who are you, my dad?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his neck and digging your fingers into his hair. 

He moaned lowly, grinding against you. “Oh fuck yeah. Call me daddy,” he cantered. 

“No,” you answered simply. You sat up, reaching over to his top drawer in search of protection, but running your fingers over a lacy garment instead. Your brows knitted together as your gaze shot to the drawer, your underpants dangling from your finger. Karl tucked his hands behind his head, looking up at you nonchalantly as your mind flashed with memories of your time in the bathroom. 

Before you had the opportunity to ask him what he was still doing with them, his door popped open to reveal one of Karl’s roommates, his name beginning with a D but slipping your mind. “What are you guys doing in here?” He asked with a rather dopey smile, gesturing to Karl still between your legs. “Everyone’s downstairs, come on.” You and Karl shared a look as he left. 

You leaned back down to him, kissing him briefly before pressing your lips to his neck again. “Wanna come over instead?” You suggested softly, your lips ghosting over his ear. 

Karl loped down the stairs in front of you, a heavy layer of smoke hanging in the air above your heads. A mass of people crammed themselves together, finding solace in each other after the long week. If you weren’t so hung up on getting into Karl’s pants, you might have considered joining them. 

Before the two of you could reach the door, someone called out for Karl. Their voice boomed over the loudness of the music, making Karl wince slightly. His face flattened into a frown as “Todd” waved at the two of you. Karl took a few slugging steps to stand close enough to Todd’s group that they wouldn’t have to yell at each other. You settled your hand on Karl’s hip as you wrapped your hand around his waist, leaning against him. Todd’s eyes traced over you. 

He wet his lips. “You guys leaving already?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and accepting the joint offered to him. From an outsider’s perspective, he looked like the king of the castle. Luckily, you knew better. “Come on, play a game with us!” He suggested, patting the empty spot beside him. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell Karl was rolling his eyes. “I got a seat warmed up for you, baby girl,” he nodded towards you. 

You perked an eyebrow in his direction and Karl slipped his hand into yours nonchalantly. “Thanks, but no,” Karl stated. 

“Come on, Karl. Don’t make me pull pin.” At Todd’s words, Karl groaned reluctantly, the sound barely audible. You furrowed your brows at him. “Fifteen minutes. We were gonna play Never Have I Ever.” 

You leaned towards Karl. “What’s pulling pin?” You mumbled. 

“Flexing rank,” he grunted back. He tugged you with him to join the group. Before you could sit down, Todd pulled you into the spot beside him. You laughed nervously, watching as Karl’s features darkened as he sat across from the two of you. Todd handed you a drink, which you took but avoided sipping out of. 

A boy beside Karl piped up. “Okay, so never have I ever graduated high school. My degree is literally fake.” The boy smiled before taking a drink, making you giggle slightly. Todd draped his arm around the back of the couch where you were sitting. He wasn’t touching you exactly but every ounce of his being was getting under Karl’s skin. 

Todd smugly shook his head. “No, Zeke. Those aren’t the rules. You have to say something that’s not true about you. Like…” he trailed off slightly, his gaze settling on you before his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Never have I ever slashed someone’s tires.” 

You humored him with a subtle smile as if to ask if he was serious. He gestured towards Karl, who took a drink. You bit back a grin. “Well, never have I ever masturbated to a girl my roommate’s sleeping with,” Karl retaliated. Your eyes grew wide, suddenly happy to watch the event unfold before you. 

Todd took a drink after glaring at Karl. He leaned closer to you, this time his arm dropped to pull you against his side. “Do you wanna take a turn?” You shook your head, flashing your eyes to Karl before looping your fingers with Todd’s. Karl chewed the inside of his cheek, looking like he was holding back another laugh. “Alright, I’ll go.” Todd brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm. “Ah, I know. Never have I ever betrayed the secret oath of the frat and called the police.” 

Karl took another sip, his eyes on you. “Yeah, because never have I ever set the house on fire trying to light a bong,” he answered, making you snort. 

You let your free hand settle on Todd’s knee. “Awe, I’d light your bong for you,” you chided, making Todd laugh as he took a drink. 

“I bet you could do a lot for me, Princess,” he flirted, his lips nearing your ear. You raised your eyebrows in Karl’s direction, who was sitting with his chin in his hand. His expression was darkly entertained as you flirted with Todd. “Speaking of,” Todd looked to Karl again. “Never have I ever fucked someone on my roommate’s bed,” he teased, tucking his nose in the crook of your neck. 

Karl smirked. “You’re right, you probably haven’t,” he stated simply, downing the rest of his drink. Todd tensed slightly beside you. Karl stood, ruffling the hair of one of the other Brothers that were in the group before holding his hand out for you to take. As the two of you left, you heard one of the guys whistle and say something about never having peed in a pool before. 

As the two of you left the house, you walked in time with Karl’s heavy steps, swinging your entwined hands as if you were completely oblivious. “I can’t believe I made you jealous,” you taunted. You could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders as he opened the passenger car door for you. Before you could slip into the seat, Karl’s hand gripped the back of your neck, bringing you to press your lips roughly against his. He pinned you between him and the cool metal of the car as the taste of beer spread across your tongue. 

His fingers dug into your hips, his other hand tightening around your throat. The coolness of his tongue ring was a welcomed sensation as you attempted to find friction against his hips. Your fingers moved to close around his wrist as he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. His face was expressionless as his gaze danced from your lips to your eyes. “I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you for the way you acted,” he ribbed, stepping away from you. 

You nearly slid down the side of the car at his words. “Okay,” you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks and ultimately to your core. 

Karl’s calm exterior followed you until you finally got your apartment door open. Karl pinned you against the wood of your bedroom door, reaching to twist the lock as his lips began to commandeer your own. His hands dragged up your thighs beneath your skirt, squeezing at the flesh roughly. He yanked your shirt off, grinding his hips up and against yours as his teeth moved to nip at the skin of your neck before returning to badger your lips. 

The taste of beer on his lips blended with your flavored chapstick as your tongue slipped into his mouth. In a mess of tugging and biting each other, your body melted into his rough grasp. You wanted whatever repercussions his twisted mind could come up with. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to you. You fought against diving your hands into his jeans to beg him to continue, but he broke away from you as you fought to catch your breath. 

Your lips were buzzing as the feeling of him still lingered. He brought his hand up to your jaw, tipping your chin up to him. “Fucking slut,” the devil’s grin painted across his face before he continued, pressing his lips against yours once more, his grin dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “You act like I don’t fucking own you,” he nearly growled, his face hovering over yours as his hand squeezed your throat. You moaned quietly as he regulated your breathing with his hand. You wanted to drink in his dark, commanding appearance. 

He pushed you back on the bed, making you instinctively crawl up towards the pillows. He smirked slightly, undoing his belt and slipping it into his hands. He put the garment on your bedside table. After tugging his shirt off, he was on top of you again, pushing you into the pillows and the fluffy comforter. Karl’s lips seared yours, showing you how much command he had over your body. He ground his hips against yours, the fabric of his jeans digging into you to elicit a moan echo from your mouth. You could feel his erection hardening against your leg, the tension deep within you tightening at the prospect of what he was going to do to you. 

His fingers tugged at your skirt, gripping the material in his fist and dragging it down your body as if it was nothing. He flipped you, your elbows crowding the pillows as you felt him sit on your back, snapping the belt in his hands again. You let out a short breath as Karl’s nails raked up your back before his fingers dipped in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him. “I want you to scream my name tonight,” he groaned. You obliged as he dropped his grip on you. 

He pulled your wrists between the bars of your headboard before binding you to the metal with his belt, yanking the leather to sinch against your skin. He dropped his head to press his lips against your shoulder, a tender nod of affection you knew would be the last. You leaned on your side to watch him sit back on his knees to unbutton his jeans. “Be gentle,” you leered, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your grin again as you watched him spit into his hand and stroke himself in preparation.

He chuckled. “I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured darkly through a smirk. He pulled your hips up and against his own, forcing your face into the mattress. Your hands tightened around the metal bars, as he angled himself at your entrance before driving himself into with an act of force you knew you deserved. A moan of his name slipped past your lips as his fingers dug into your hips, thrusting into you to drive himself deeper into you. “That’s right. I want the neighbors to know who’s fucking you,” he groaned, snapping his hips against yours. 

Moans of pure bliss escaped your lips as his head neared yours. Karl used your hips as leverage for his unwavering pace, leaving you a mess of pleasure beneath him. His lips found their way to your neck as he nipped against the sensitive skin. You wanted him to mark you, to claim you, and he deserved to. His hand from your hair became wrapped around your throat as he began to reach his peak. 

His hand slapped your ass with such force you knew there was a handprint, but you were too overwhelmed with the noises escaping his lips and your climax threatened to disobey your control to be concerned with the sting. If anything it threatened to push you over the edge. Your hands pulled against the leather of his belt as he pounded into you. 

Your toes began to curl as he leaned over you, his breath fanning against your shoulder as you bit back heavy moans of pleasure. Karl’s hand was knotted in your hair again, his other fisting the sheets beside you. “Who’s making you feel this good? Huh?” You moaned out his name as he punctuated his sentence with the thrusts of his hips. “That’s right, you fucking slut.” You tightened around him, your orgasm sweeping over you with an element of shock. 

You could practically hear Karl’s smirk as he moaned at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. He continued to ride you, finishing rather abruptly. He pressed his lips between your shoulder blades before loosening the belt around your wrists. Your back popped as you were finally able to move freely. He bit back a chuckle as you gingerly snuggled beneath the covers beside him. You slipped your hand across his torso, hugging his side against your chest as he rested an arm behind your head. 

As you laid your head on his chest, his heartbeat began to steady, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. “I’d rather eat my own feet than sleep with Todd, you know,” you croaked, realizing just how much your voice was weakening, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

Karl chuckled softly. “Me too,” he commented, making you smile slightly. “I’m actually…” he paused slightly before continuing as if searching for what he wanted to say exactly. “I’m actually not sleeping with anyone else.” 

You couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face. “I’m not either.” You hugged him tighter, letting his fingers twirl into your hair. “I’m good with you.” 

“I’m good with you, too,” he mirrored, a smirk evident in his voice as his other hand traced over the red marks on your wrists from his belt. 

Tags: 

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx

[purplelea]

I love how they chose to show Strelitzia in the very first KH4 trailer we got. For multiple reasons, excluding the obvious "because she's one of my favourite characters".

1. It gives the time to those who haven't played KHUX to catch up with the story. Like, the trailer basically said "hey you know this girl that was shown for like 5 min in the mobile game you don't care about? Well now you'd better learn a little more about her because she's going to be really important for the next game". At the end of kh3 people might have thought "oh I just need to watch back cover cutscenes since we saw the foretellers and it tells their story", but now they quite literally have to watch KHUX too. As they should.

2. It gives Strelitzia a pretty direct link to Sora and thus, links Sora more tightly to the next story. Let me explain.

Sora has pretty much finished his mission, hasn't he? He defeated Xehanort, brought all of his friends back, even those he never met (Xion my beloved) and the only thing he had to do was to find a way back after "dying". But nothing linked him to the foretellers nor to the union leaders story, and I was afraid that Yen Sid would just ask Sora to save the day again without having any other reason to do so than because he was the hero and that's what heroes do. (when Sora is in fact just a child and needs a huge nap for the next ten years or so)

Now to get back to Strelitzia. We still don't know much about her, but her connections with the living characters are pretty thin- she is linked to Lauriam and Elrena who will be recompleted for the next game for sure, and to the foretellers. Where is Sora in this? Nowhere. That's why it's so great. This is creating bonds between the characters and that's what Kingdom Hearts is about. Sora is fighting to save his friends from the very beginning and he keeps on doing so. That's what pushes him forward.

By meeting Strelitzia now, Sora creates that bond that will push him naturally to the next story, without him being an external intervention in a story he isn't a part of. During Kh3 we saw multiple times that Sora, when he doesn't know anything about the world, tries to help people if possible, but only against the heartless, or for simple tasks. He doesn't fight other people for others, at least until he becomes friends with them. Then he can intervene, because he's not doing so as a keyblade wielder, he's doing so as a friend. So during the conflict between with the foretellers, Sora will be able to intervene as a friend, as he always did.

Tl;dr : I'm so glad we saw Strelitzia again and I can't wait for kh4

[ruki--mukami]

i hope comfort is okay to ask for— if not always feel free to delete this;

—

“ Ruki— or, Master if that works better— may I request a bit of comfort… It doesn’t have to be too much, and may even ridiculous to ask this of you, but i hope that you’ll spare me some time, just this once.

Today has been awful… I haven’t been able to eat very much, and personal affairs in my day to day life have been taking such a toll. I’m exhausted— It’s just so much to deal with, and I have no idea where to go.. And once again, I may not be worthy of your comfort and embrace, but I have come to ask for it. Even if only for a few moments. Even a simple pat, or reassuring phrase is enough; i could never ask too much of you. “

—-

Again, Jas, feel free to delete this if you need to. I know you get so many asks already. So if this one isn’t in your wheelhouse, or if you don’t wanna answer/are maybe uncomfy with answering these, I get it!!! Do what you need to. :’) I just adore your content, and your Ruki portrayal, and over the past couple days Ruki has grown to be a favourite. Your content truly makes my day better, whenever i need it. I appreciate you for creating this blog, and please. have an amazing day/night. take care of yourself :) ♥️

“Good grief, Livestock. It seems the tribulations of everyday life leave little room for you to care for yourself. Hmph, what a sorry sight. First you forsake your meals and only until you are miserable beyond belief do you seek my company. Took you long enough. Though I must say, it’s a bit naïve of you to think a Vampire of all people can offer you solace. Have you finally gone mad? Well, I’m not saying no.”

When Ruki enveloped his arms around you, one hand supported your back with soothing pats like the ocean’s waning tide while he cascaded his slender fingers through your hair with the other, retreating to the crown to repeat the process as the Vampire engulfed you in an embrace strong enough to revitalize one from the most abject despair.

“As you wish… I shall comfort you this once, just like you asked. If it’s the state of your personal affairs plaguing your heart, then I want you to forget about it as long as I hold you like this. Think only of me, Livestock. How does it feel? A hug from your master, I mean. This is where you are meant to be. You belong only with me; and I, you.”

Chest pressed against chest; one sole heartbeat resounded between you both, shattering silence save for the sounds of fabric shifting in his grip. Despite how much as he lacked a pulse or how frigid his body felt in contact with yours, the comfort of Ruki’s arms inspired a surprisingly deluged balm of shelter, safety, and love. From how his algid hand caressed the small of your back and left in its wake a spreading, springlike warmth, to the laggard waterfall running through your hair.

“It’s not only because you are my prey… or because I am your master,” he whispered into your strands, “but because you are someone dear to me. Don’t say you aren’t worthy of me when you’ve done nothing deserving of punishment. Instead, I believe a reward is in order.”

Releasing from the union, Ruki’s refulgent ceruleans gazed into your eyes. Suddenly, he threaded his fingers through yours and headed for the exit of his bedroom, encouraging you to follow with a forceful tug accompanied by each step.

“Surely you must be starving right now. Fortunately for us, there are still some leftovers from the previous dish I cooked. Now let’s hurry and sate that appetite of yours. The taste of your blood will no longer suffice should you continue to forgo a healthy, balanced diet. I believe it is one of your favorite foods as well—so you lucked out this time, Livestock.”

🧩 Aww, of course comfort asks are okay!! In fact, they are some of my favorite asks ever! I'm so happy people would come to Ruki for things like advice or just for some cheerfulness as opposed to the usual stoicism and violence on this blog, ahaha. I don't get to write a fluffy Ruki very often so this was a very pleasant experience for me as well, Anon. I hope you are doing well and that things will get better for you from now on. Just know that you aren't alone and even if things seem dire that tomorrow will always be a better day and you will come out of it a stronger person. And I'm very flattered that Ruki has grown on you as a character as well and that you adore my portrayal of him, that means the world and so much more to me. T_T Please, take care!! 🧩