#particularly in the latter half of the game

[konotton]

I remember seeing someone respond "why would you want your game to release unfinished" in response to someone saying they wanted DLC for Pokémon Legends Arceus and that's stuck with me ever since

because like

not all DLC—the vast majority of it, even—is new content rather than stuff cut from the base game

I want to say "how do you even come to that conclusion" but I feel like the answer's pretty obvious

[johnbrand]

Kickin' it Straight!

SuckMcDick69 has gifted you Kickin’ it Straight! Downloading now…

Puzzled, Mason clicked on the notification. He had no idea what game his console was installing, nor who this “SuckMcDick69” person was. His only guess would have been that it was Mick, the repulsive, 30-something hetero next door. But Mick despised Mason and his boyfriend Corey, particularly after they had submitted that noise complaint a while back. There were only so many feminine moans and repeated bed-frame slammings into the wall that the couple could handle.

But looking at the game, it seemed legit. Even a quick Google search confirmed this. Sure Mason did not know where the gift was from, but what was the harm in playing it anyway? The couple had a date night planned but Corey would not be home for another hour. And Mason had already taken a shower. His slim, shaved body still glistened with a few drops and his wavy fringe was still too wet to style. So, without a second thought, Mason decided to launch the game.

“Kickin’ it Straight!” had a simple premise: land the ball into the miniature goal on the other side of the map. However, each kick was incredibly uncoordinated, curving in random directions so that the only way to win the game was to punt a perfectly-straight shot. Each attempted shot earned the player in-game currency, either beer can tabs or the super rare single dollar bills. With these, one could save up and purchase bonuses to straighten out their intention. 

The graphics were decent and the gameplay fine, but this was not Mason’s usual style of game. He was surprised at its addictive quality, having soon racked up enough can tabs to purchase a bonus. +10 MUSCULATURE! Almost as if delivered directly from the game through his controller, Mason felt a tingle of excitement crawl along his body. That added muscle was definitely going to help straighten him out! 

With a slightly stronger grip, Mason began kicking again, noticing his aim had barely improved. He assumed the game was structured purposefully for players to dedicate time in order to complete it. So Mason saved a little longer, waiting until he could purchase two upgrades at once. With another +10 MUSCULATURE, Mason could practically feel his abdominals hardening with elation, but he also secured a +5 HEIGHT. He stretched his buzzing arms and legs, kicking the latter set up onto the futon and spreading them across the cushions.

Now able to rack up more can tabs, Mason was soon hoarding a good amount of cash. Previewing the shop, he ended up selecting three different bonuses. He grabbed the final +10 MUSCULATURE and +5 HEIGHT to round off those two categories. After completing an additional challenge, Mason also earned a +15 ANDROGEN. He did not know what that meant, but he did not care. Mason did however notice the tingling sensation in his lower half again, but after scratching at his furry legs he disregarded it, his feet now hanging over the edge. 

Suddenly, a big hoop presented itself to the left of the goal, offering dollar bills if Mason scored the shot. Thanks to his bonuses, he could better predict the angles of his kicks, allowing him to punt it directly in on the first attempt. Immediately he ventured into the shop, purchasing +5 CLEATS out of the three options assuming he would be supplied with better shoes. Navigating out of the shop, Mason subconsciously rubbed his feet together, seemingly ticklish as they thickened and plumped into much larger soles.

As he continued on, the amount of bonuses Mason had available began to change, each checking off as his aim shrunk narrower. +10 MATURITY, +20 VIRILITY, +25 CONFIDENCE. Eventually he no longer processed what he was purchasing, obsessively venturing back and forth from shop to field to check each item off. +20 POWER, +20 AGGRESSION, -10 INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT, -20 INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT, -30 INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT. 

Near the end, Mason only had two more bonuses to purchase, both only attainable with dollar bills. Scratching between his crew cut and scruffy beard, it took him a few moments to realize he could purchase both. REMOVE HOMOSEXAULITY DISADVANTAGE, INSTALL HETEROSEXUALITY ADVANTAGE. With this came a purchase animation, showing Mason’s character placing the dollar bills into the waistbands of busty, oversexualized cheerleaders. He groped himself casually, feeling his juicy man meat grow hard. 

Once it was finished, he was put back in the game for the final shot. With pure determination, Mason kicked the ball straight down the line into the goal. Obnoxiously, he shouted out a booming, abrasive victory cry for everyone in the building to hear. Everyone would now know that Mason was "kickin' it straight!"

After closing the game, Mason received a notification on his phone. It was from Mick next door, asking him to come over to discuss something. Without a second thought, Mason got up and left, not even bothering putting some clothes on. He was promptly greeted at the next door by a man of similar size, stench, and sense.

“Sorry I'm late, honey!” Corey announced a while later once he finally arrived home. Looking around, he was surprised at how empty the apartment looked, as if it had recently purged. His eyes momentarily went vacant, processing something, and then reanimating.

Who was he calling "honey?" He lived alone, unlike the two dickheads he could hear shouting at their game next door. The pair were like twins: both twelve inches taller, ten years older, and a whole lot manlier than Corey. The traditional moral contrasts were somehow even starker than the physical differences. With a sigh, Corey just hoped he did not have to file another noise complaint–something warned him Mick and Mason had the means to retaliate.

[lelengerine]

pairing. jeno x reader

synopsis. based on this req!

genre. not so confession au, just jeno getting his world shaken hehe, reader uses she/her prns and is implied to be female, reader is DENSE and im putting that lightly... lmk if anything was missed :D

wc. 1.4k

notes. anonie i support u fully because THIS IS SOOO HIM >< highly recommend listening to crazier by le sserafim for this one! sorry it took a while TT i was trying to see if my tags would fix but sadly that isnt the case... likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

you’ve always been jeno’s constant, his best friend, the person he shares his dumbest jokes with, the person who never fails to laugh when he falls out of the race track at mario kart, the person who knows when to cheer him up without him needing to say much. there was always an ease between you that others would envy, the kind of closeness that lets you steal fries off his plate without thinking twice or crash on his couch for hours without either of you caring. 

that’s just how your friendship was.

at least, he needs to keep reminding himself that was how it was between you two because his thoughts were beginning to steer in the opposite direction. lately he had become hyper aware of your presence, noticing the way the bridge of your nose would crinkle ever so slightly when you smile, how you completely disregard his personal space to sit beside him closely, and even your reliance on him when you can’t seem to twist the lid of a particularly stubborn jar off. it was always the subtlest of things that lingered in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. 

though, it seems like his friends were more than aware of the answer he was searching for from the way they were teasing him during one of your spontaneous meetups in his dorm.

you and jeno sat side by side on the couch, surrounded by the familiar chaos of his friends. chenle and jisung, as usual, had been locked in a heated game for the past hour, their playful bickering filling the room. across from you, renjun and jaemin watch the scene unfold in their usual, quiet way, content to simply observe. you’re half-tuned into whatever conversation was floating in the air, mindlessly scrolling through your phone—with the occasional nudge to jeno’s shoulder, sharing a meme or video that made you snort on the inside, the casual, easy comfort between you both flowing naturally amidst the background noise.

haechan who was lounging lazily on the opposite end of the couch, passes jeno a look—a sly, knowing smirk that immediately puts the latter on edge. there’s always a hint of mischief behind haechan’s smile, but for some reason, it felt even more suspicious today.

“so,” haechan begins, stretching the word out, eyes never leaving jeno. he leans forward slightly, as if settling in for something big. “what’s been up with you lately, man?”

jeno raises an eyebrow, confused but wary. “what are you talking about?”

“oh, you know…” haechan waves a hand in the air, his smirk widening into something too smug for comfort. “you’ve just been acting a little… different.”

“different how?” you chime in with sudden interest. “did he start doing something weird?”

“not weird, just... off.” jaemin continues the bait haechan’s laid out, the innocent smile plastered on his lips testing jeno’s patience to not go over and close his mouth shut before it starts spewing nonsense.

“off?” jisung perks up from the floor, focus starting to shift away from the large screen in the room. “what do you mean by off?”

“oh, he’s definitely been weird for weeks now,” chenle adds, jumping into the conversation with a grin, catching onto his friends’ intentions fairly quicker than others.

jeno shifts uncomfortably, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t forget to shoot chenle a glare after joining the rest and their sudden urge for mischief. “i’m not weird. you guys are just being paranoid.”

“nah, you’ve definitely been jittery. more than usual.”

“yeah, i noticed it too.”

“jittery?” you ask, your confusion deepening, causing your forehead to form subtle creases. “why would he be jittery?”

before jeno can respond, chenle cheekily cuts in after pretending to ponder on his thoughts. “i don’t know, maybe something’s been distracting him.”

haechan snorts, clearly enjoying the whole spectacle a bit too much. “yeah, pretty distracted, don’t you think?”

you frown, gaze drifting towards your best friend. “is he losing sleep over video games again?”

chenle bursts into laughter, occasionally hitting jisung by the shoulder. “oh yeah, totally video games,” he teases, the sarcasm thick in his voice for anyone to pick up on. “he’s definitely been staying up all night thinking about those.”

"shut up," jeno mumbles, his ears burning as the heat creeps up his neck, trying to fend off the rising embarrassment. with every pair of eyes in the room glued to him, the pointed stares and teasing smirks are becoming impossible to ignore.

"this is so weird," you mumble, glancing between the boys. the playful tension crackles in the air, but you're completely clueless, unable to grasp what was so funny or why they were all being so persistent today.

mark, who’s been quietly observing from the kitchen, finally steps in after the conversation piques his interest. “maybe it’s a girl,” he waves the gentle suggestion in the air, and despite his tone being casual, you easily could tell he was just as in on it as the rest were.

the room falls into a brief, stunned silence. the first of the night.

you choke on your own breath, turning sharply to jeno, feeling a bit betrayed that he’d kept this from you. “jen, you have a crush and didn’t tell me anything?”

jeno’s brain goes into overdrive, panic flooding his chest from the thought of you getting the wrong idea. “no! what are you even talking about?” he sputters, flustered beyond belief. 

as if there weren’t already enough misunderstandings, haechan dramatically nods, paying no heed to jeno’s frantic denial. “oh right, he’s been losing sleep over someone. the poor guy’s probably been agonizing over it.”

jeno’s pulse races, the teasing voices of his friends blending into a chaotic blur. he couldn’t explain it, not when he doesn’t fully understand it himself, but his mind immediately thinks of you. the way his stomach twists when you’re around, how his heart picks up pace whenever you smile—that jittery feeling jaemin mentioned... it’s all starting to make sense in the worst possible way.

there’s a moment, as the others keep prodding and nudging at him, where it clicks. he’s always been comfortable around you, always enjoyed your company, but now—with their teasing pushing his thoughts into overdrive—it feels different. the way his heart seems to lurch every time your shoulder brushes his, how your laugh makes his chest bubble with a ticklish feeling he can’t explain, the way his thoughts keep drifting back to you even when you’re not around.

do i… like her?

the realization hits him like a freight train, and suddenly, all the pieces that were once scrambled come together one by one. the teasing, the jokes, the way he’s been acting lately—it all connects into one perfectly clear line. he’s fallen, and he didn’t even realize it, and now, with every single person in the room staring at him, he feels like the biggest idiot on the planet for not seeing it sooner.

“i don’t…” jeno starts, his voice low, struggling to find the right words as they stick to his throat. his gaze flickers to you, sitting there still utterly confused by the entire conversation.

“oh my god, jeno’s speechless,” jisung deadpans, eyes wide in slight surprise. “this might be the first time in history.”

“must be serious,” haechan chimes in and from what you could tell, there’s no ounce of worry in his tone. instead, the boy is grinning widely, like a cat who’s caught the canary.

jeno can’t find it in himself to respond, the load of the realization still sinking in, heavy and overwhelming. even jaemin, who’s usually more subtle, can’t help but throw in a quick, “just admit it, jeno. we all know.”

you huff, still frustrated and completely lost. “am i seriously the only one not getting what’s going on here?”

“sadly, yes.” haechan confirms with a muffled snicker from his end, leaning back into the couch, enjoying this far too much.

jeno glances at you again, feeling his chest tighten. his head is spinning, his thoughts racing. you’re oblivious to all the teasing, still in the dark about what’s really happening, and maybe that’s for the best. maybe it’s easier if you don’t know—at least, not yet.

“i… i need to get some air,” jeno announces abruptly, standing up from the couch and bolting for the door before anyone can stop him.

“...should we go after him?” you propose, biting your lip out of nervousness, not having seen jeno act this way in all the years the two of you had known each other.

“just let him be for now.” chenle pats your shoulder out of genuine consolation, “he’ll find his way back to you.”

[rip-quizilla]

While in This World

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) X Teacher!Reader

Summary: A purely self-indulgent one shot where Teacher!Reader and Logan frequent the same bar, and when Logan comforts reader after a rough day at work, they get to know each other a lot better.

WC: 7k

Tags: 18+ SMUT🔥🔥🔥, Reader has female anatomy, p in v sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), dom/sub undertones, grumpy/sunshine dynamic, Hozier references, X-Men: Evolution references

Minors DNI. All divider credit goes to @saradika-graphics

Logan only knew two things about you: you were a teacher at the local high school, and you drove a yellow Honda Civic. 

The latter was easy for him to figure out; that car was hard to miss, and whenever he saw it parked outside of Dusty’s when he’d pull up for a pint, he knew you’d be sitting at the bar when he walked in. 

The former, he didn’t even have to ask about for you to tell him. In fact, he never asked you anything, never so much as spoke to you. But did that stop you from talking about whatever happened at work that day? Fuck no. You’d yap about it unprompted every damn time. 

It was like you’d created a game of it. He’d walk into the bar, wearing an expression that clearly says ‘Don’t fucking talk to me’, sit down on the same barstool he always sat at, order a drink… and just when he’d start enjoying the silence you’d start in on him.

“Damn, today was brutal. Was it brutal for you too?”

“Whew! Wednesdays, am I right?”

“Well you look chipper this evening! Good day today?”

He never answered. You knew he would never answer, you just seemed to love ruining his peace and quiet. 

In the face of his silence, you would usually just carry on the conversation alone. You’d tell him about some kid who’d been particularly annoying that day, or a student who’d finally understood a concept you’d been spending weeks trying to teach them. 

You’d ranted to him about how Kash from your second period class never turns in his homework, which drove you nuts because you knew how smart he was. 

You’d told him about Lily, whose essays were some of the best you’ve ever read from a sophomore even though the kid had convinced herself that she hated history. 

You’d vented to him about Lindsey, the math teacher next to your classroom who complained about every little thing- including the students- careless of whether or not they were within earshot. 

…Okay, so maybe Logan knew more than two things about you. Wasn't like he wanted to, though. 

Today, he knew enough about you to be absolutely sure that something was wrong.

He was sitting at the bar, already down to the last couple sips of his drink, and you hadn’t said a word since he’d sat down. Nothing. 

He fought the instinct to look at you so badly, he really did- but he couldn’t help himself. He’d half expected you to be waiting for him to do so, grinning smugly when your prediction proved correct. Instead, when he finally succumbed to the urge to glance at you out of the corner of his eye, all he saw was your profile wearing an expression he had never seen on you before: stern.

He swiftly turned his attention back to his drink when the bartender emerged from the back and wordlessly started pouring Logan another glass of bourbon before going to crack open another beer for you.

“Something stronger, please.” you sighed. The bartender stopped, a beer bottle already held in one hand with an opener poised and ready in the other. “What he’s having is fine.” you added, nodding to Logan’s fresh glass. 

He and the old bartender both raised an eyebrow at you simultaneously. You didn’t usually order ‘strong’. You usually got something bubbly with a perfectly reasonable ABV. 

A second passed before the bartender simply shrugged and did as you asked, exchanging the bottle in his hand for a larger one and pouring you a glass of liquid amber. You sipped it, wincing slightly before taking another. 

Don’t ask. Logan thought, Don’t say a word, you fucking softie-

“Rough day?” Logan mumbled, his voice like sandpaper after barely using it all day. 

Weak-ass, he cursed inwardly.

You didn’t look at him, just nodded. Logan cringed; he wasn’t good at carrying conversations- that was usually your job. You were so good at it, too, he never even participated and still you always carried on completely unphased. He wished you’d at least give him something to work with here.

“Some kid mouth off to you or somethin’?” 

You shook your head and took another sip of bourbon. “No,” you mumbled, “kids were great. Phenomenal, even.” 

Logan exhaled a soft sigh of relief through his nose, fogging the side of his glass. At least you were talking now. He waited silently for you to continue; he knew you had more to say than that. 

“I taught this lesson yesterday…” you paused before chuckling under your breath. “...I think it might have been one of the best I’ve ever taught. The kids got so involved with it, they practically ran the class themselves.”

Logan watched your shoulders sink sullenly as you sighed. “As a way of helping them relate to the issue of race as it was being discussed during the Civil Rights Movement, I printed out articles for them to read about the issue of Mutants’ Rights.”

Logan didn’t let it show on his face, but that was surprising to say the least. The topic of mutants- outside the walls of Charles’ school, of course- was taboo. It was an important issue, yes, but he didn’t expect it to be brought up in classrooms, at least not while it was still in the news.

“I mean, they’re already seeing it on the news- anti-mutant crime is increasing, advocates for mutants’ rights have started earning followings all over the world. They’re already discussing this topic amongst themselves, so why not use it to help them understand that less than a century ago, their grandparents were discussing policies not much different than the policies being debated today?”

Little did you know, mutants’ rights were also being discussed even then. Being discussed in rooms full of important men who had the power to change the future- for the better or for the worst. Logan remembered it well; he'd been alive when those talks had happened.

“So what happened?” Logan asked, before he realized he’d said the words out loud.

You scowled. “Some kid went home and told their parents what they did at school yesterday. Next thing I know, I’m in the principal’s office getting told off about sensitive topics and keeping politics out of the classroom. How can they expect me to teach U.S. History and keep politics out of the classroom? It’s ridiculous!”

Slamming another gulp of whiskey down with a shudder, you seethed and stared at the wooden bartop like you were trying to set it on fire. “And I’m not even angry for my sake. I’m angry for the sake of the mutant kids that go to that school- and I know there’s got to be at least one, I’ve seen the statistics. They aren’t as rare as people want to think they are, and if even one kid in that classroom is a mutant then they’re about to learn they aren’t even allowed to be themselves at their own school.”

Logan was quiet- as per usual- before replying. “They knew that already.”

Your brow crinkled. “What?”

“They already knew they weren’t allowed to be themselves at school.” Logan said. “Hell, a lot of ‘em aren’t even safe enough to be themselves in their own homes. Parents throw their kids out when they learn they’re mutants, happens all the time. I’m sure your statistics showed you that.” 

This was the most Logan had ever spoken to you. You were rapt with attention, clinging to every word as protective fury for all of those uprooted children clenched your fists. Your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms while Logan contemplatively brushed his thumb over the grooves between his knuckles.

“A mutant in this world learns pretty quick that it isn’t safe for them to be themselves. What you just taught them is that not everybody thinks less of them. Not everybody wants them gone.” Logan hadn’t looked at you this whole time, just kept his eyes forward. Now, as he brought his glass to his lips, you saw his hazel eyes glance your way. “You taught them that at the very least, they’re allowed to talk about this shit at all.” 

You blinked. You gulped. You blinked two more times. All the while, Logan’s eyes stayed trained on you.

“Thanks.” you whispered, too stunned that he had just comforted you to say anything else. 

An awkward sort of silence settled between the two of you. Normally, silence was difficult for you to sit with; you felt this compulsive need to fill the quiet with words. Now, though, silence felt right. You allowed it into your mind to calm the raging typhoon of resentment toward the bitter world you lived in and instead focus on smaller things. You let the sweet burn of your whiskey warm your insides and trickle down to your nerves. You took deep, mindful breaths through your nose and exhaled through your lips, taking note of the way that the air smelled smoky sitting next to your drinking buddy.

It occurred to you now that you’d never actually learned his name, so you asked him. 

He chuckled, grinning ruefully out the corner of his mouth in a way that made your heart sputter. “You don’t wanna go down that road, kid.”

You smirked, acting a bit more like your usual spunky self. “And what road is that?”

“Knowing about me.”

You threw your head back and cackled. “Wow, you’re really committing to that dark and brooding act, huh?” He shook his head but you caught the glint of a tooth as he smiled into his final sip of bourbon. “Fine, I’ll guess. Josh?”

He raised a single eyebrow at you and said nothing. 

“Not Josh, then. What about Eugene? You look like you could be a Eugene.”

“I am not a Eugene.” He grunted. 

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Geez, sorry, not a Eugene then.”

He sighed, throwing you a hard sidelong glance before muttering, “It’s Logan.”

“Logan.” You threw back the last of your bourbon and let the taste of it mingle with the feel of his name on your lips. Both burned deliciously. 

“You gonna give me yours?” Logan asked, his voice rough and quiet, like lonely tires on an empty gravel road. 

You held your glass up in the dim lighting, turning it this way and that to admire the way the image of the neon Michelob Ultra sign behind the bar warped when it shined through.

“That depends, are we getting another round?”

We. The word was new to Logan in the context of you and him. He liked the way it sounded on your tongue. 

“Another bourbon?” he asked you.

“Rye this time, please.” you purred. “That bourbon was a little too sweet.”

You were definitely the first to tell him that his drink of choice was too sweet. 

Shaking his head and fighting a grin, Logan ordered two glasses of rye whiskey as you continued telling him about the lesson you’d taught yesterday. 

He noticed a shift in you as you described the way your students had discussed social issues with the fervor of seasoned politicians. He clocked the way your posture straightened and your eyes sparkled when you told him how proud you were of those teenagers in those moments- how it was like they had all been waiting for someone to simply give them permission to discuss the intricacies of their social structure and how little it took for people to turn against each other when standing by their neighbor became something controversial. 

Before you both knew it, hours had ticked past while the two of you sat at that bar. As usual, you did most of the talking, but a crucial change that had set this conversation apart was Logan. This time, his hazel eyes never left yours. He listened- really listened- to every word you said. He’d never taken the time to learn the way your lips always looked like they were about to quirk up into a laughing smile. He’d always thought that you were funny- pretty, too- but he’d never known that when he actually laughed with you, you got this triumphant look in your eyes like making him laugh had been your only goal all along. 

He was noticing a lot of new things tonight- like the tattoo on your upper thigh that only showed when your dress rode up over your crossed legs. He noticed the dimple that appeared when you smiled wide enough. Noticed the looks you threw his way when you finished laughing that made him feel… something. 

By the time you’d both had three rounds of neat whiskey, it was nearly two in the morning. The bartender had given you both sweating glasses of icy water as a silent reminder of closing time. 

“Don’t you have to get up early, teach?” Logan asked as you gulped down your water at a speed he knew would freeze your brain. 

“I do,” you acknowledged, wincing from the passing brain freeze. “...but I’m a natural night owl.”

Logan grinned teasingly. “That’s pretty irresponsible… aren’t teachers supposed to be role models?”

“What can I say,” you shrugged, “I like my whiskey neat and my bed at three.” 

Something in Logan’s eyes darkened then. “Your bed, huh?”

You caught his drift; you were already drifting that way, too. Your knee drifting closer to his as he reached for his wallet. His hand drifting to the small of your back as he walked you out of the bar. Your eyes drifting to his lips while you struggled to maintain eye contact.

That was how Logan ended up slamming you against the front door of your little townhouse at quarter past two in the morning. 

“Fuck-!” you exclaimed, arching against the chipping white paint and gasping at the feel of the cold glass window as the skin of your back prickled. Logan’s hands- large and grasping at the soft material of your sweater- pulled your torso closer to his as his mouth devoured the lingering spice of rye on your lips. 

For a man of few words, he was suddenly louder than anything else- his noises, his touch, his scent, his taste…

“‘Fuck’ what, doll?” He grunted as his lips traveled behind your ear and down your neck, “You never run out of things to talk about, is this all it takes to shut you up?”

“-ngh… That depends, are you trying to shut me up?” Your voice was breathy, blood racing through your veins as his lips teased the skin where your neck met your shoulder. Logan made a noise that sounded almost like a growl just before biting down on your heated flesh, ripping a surprised moan from you that came straight from your core. 

“Nah,” he grumbled into your shoulder, licking the abused spot that would bloom darker tomorrow. “I wanna hear everything.” 

You whimpered. Actually whimpered at the way you could feel his voice rumbling through his chest as his solid pecs pressed against you. Cradling your face in both hands, he brought your gaze to meet his own. The dim porch light shone through the windows just enough that you could make out his smoldering hazel eyes as he brought your lips to his. 

The kiss was tender this time; richly sweet and intentional as he captured a sigh before it even left your mouth. You relaxed into him, melting into the kiss and letting the heat of his touch unravel the tension that still lingered in your muscles from the day’s stress. His hands left your cheeks, caressing down your shoulders and arms until they found your hands and lifted them to encircle his neck and shoulders. He grunted, grabbing your hips before tapping them in a wordless command to jump. Which you did.

With a little hop, you found yourself wrapped around Logan, ankles locked behind his back and his stubbled jawline prickling your fingertips as you held his face and kissed him hard. You mumbled directions into his lips while he maneuvered the two of you through the house until he found your bedroom at last. 

Mere seconds passed before you were practically thrown onto the bed, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he yanked off his flannel. Your mouth watered at the sight of his arms- not a lightswitch had been flipped since the two of you had entered the house, so the moon remained your only lighting as it filtered in through your gauzy bedroom curtains. Logan was haloed by a bluish, moonlit glow that made him look ethereal as he stood over you in only his jeans and white undershirt. 

Something sparkled under that moonlight… around his neck, you noticed he wore a piece of jewelry that glinted silver. Funny, you thought, he doesn’t seem like the jewelry type. 

You were soon granted an up-close view of it when he crawled over you on the bed. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the cold bite of metal hit your collarbone and you recognized what it belonged to. Dog tags. You made a mental note to ask him about them when you weren’t so preoccupied. 

You gasped suddenly, feeling his hand start to creep up your bare thigh beneath your dress. Your breath hitched in your throat when his warm fingers started to trace the intricate patterns of lace on your panties. 

“Those feel fancy.” Logan’s husky voice whispered into your ear, “Can I see?”

You nodded, eyes blown wide with lust and submission. 

“Talk to me, baby, tell me I can touch them.” he reminded you.

“Yes, you can touch them.”

You could barely see Logan’s face in the dark, but you could tell that he was grinning. His fingers slid into the waistband of your underwear, working them off your hips as he repositioned himself between your legs.

“Good girl.” He purred as he pulled them down your legs and off of you completely. Then you felt him pushing your legs further apart before-

“Holy shit-!” 

One lick up the center of your bare pussy was all it took to rip the expletive from your mouth and reduce your muscles to gelatin. 

“Mmmh..”  Logan’s muffled growl from between your legs sent a wave of pleasure through you, synchronizing with the way his tongue flicked over your clit. You could feel your pussy getting wetter just from hearing him, weeping into his mouth as you unraveled under his ministrations.

Your eyes rolled back with ecstasy as his tongue continued its work- you moaned and arched your back with every lick and every noise he made that sent chilling vibrations through your body. It didn’t take long for you to feel that familiar mounting pleasure rising inch by inch within you.

“Fuck, Logan,” you sighed, “If you keep that up, I’m gonna cum.”

Those were the magic words. Logan looked up at you from between your legs with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat and your walls clench- which he felt, since your admission of how close you were was all he needed to slide two fingers inside of you.

He worked you like it was his full-time job, tongue and fingers working in tandem to pull noises, movements, and delicious pulls of his hair from where your fingers had snaked down to his locks. His fingers drove into you, veins and muscles bulging from his forearm as his tongue circled and flicked your clit at a breakneck pace. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, letting overstimulation devour you in waves as you clamped down on his fingers and came hard. “ohfuckohfuckI’m…I’m cumming-!”

It was music to his ears; his fingers kept going, pumping into you and keeping pace with your release. Someone would have to physically rip him away from you to get him to stop before you told him to. It took him a second to register that something wet was dripping down his forearm, and it was you. 

When he finally felt your spasms starting to slow, he gently removed his fingers from your pussy and held his arm up to the light. 

“Damn, baby,” he whispered, his husky voice full of awe and admiration. “Did my fingers make that pussy cry? She needed to cum for me that bad?” 

You watched, wide-eyed and panting as Logan’s tongue caught the bead of your arousal from where it had dripped down to his elbow, all the way up to the tips of his fingers. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored your taste.

“So fucking good…” he sighed, almost to himself, before his hands reached for his belt. “I’ve gotta feel you, baby, you have a condom?” 

You nodded, reaching for your bedside table. You knew you still had some in there, but you’d bought them what seemed like ages ago- you hadn’t brought anyone to your bed in quite some time. 

Feeling around in the nightstand drawer, you finally found the box of condoms… and the single remaining condom inside. 

“I have one left.” You said, holding out the small square package to Logan.

You heard him huff out a little chuckle. “Busy girl.” 

“No, ah… quite the opposite, actually. It’s been a while. I’m lucky I had some left in there, really.” you laughed nervously. 

“If anyone’s lucky tonight, it’s me.” Logan whispered, kicking off his jeans and underwear after yanking his undershirt over his head. You cursed the darkness of your room, wishing you could see more than his moonlit silhouette standing over you in your bedroom- but God, was it a silhouette. Broad shoulders lined in bluish-white light, sweat-sheened pecs and a strong jawline that dipped half an inch when he saw the way you were gazing at him.

Unlike you, Logan could see everything. The night sky was littered with stars beneath a full moon, and all of it graciously allowed him a gorgeous view that practically left you glowing- but he knew you could glow brighter if you bared the rest of yourself to him right now. 

“Clothes off, doll. Let me see you.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion- this was a command. A command you eagerly obeyed as he got to work ripping open the condom wrapper and sliding the rubber down his cock. He was so ready for you, even the soft touch of his own hand rolling the condom on made him twitch as he watched you remove layer after layer until you wore nothing but the moonlight. 

“Goddamn beautiful.” he swore. 

You gazed at him through thick lashes and heavy lids, propped up on your elbows and smiling demurely as you slowly widened your legs for him. 

He couldn’t take much more of this; a growl resonated in his chest as Logan practically pounced on you, enveloping your mouth in a molten kiss as he lined himself up with you and plowed into you without warning. 

“Holy shit-!” you yelped into his mouth, the size of him surprising you as you took his whole length at once. You hadn’t realized how empty you had felt until you suddenly had something to fill you wholly and completely- the stretch was overwhelming and beautiful all at once. You moaned wantonly, clutching at his bicep with one hand and his shoulder with the other. 

Logan groaned as he slowly began pumping in and out of you, reveling in the pleasure he received with every fraction of a movement he made inside of you. You were so tight, muscles already primed and contracting from the first climax he’d brought out of you. 

“You tell me what feels good, baby.” He said, working one arm under your head to cradle it with his forearm, and using the other to lift one of your legs up to hook around his lower back. Once again, his tone left no room for argument. 

“Okay.” you agreed meekly, all the fight you normally had in you suddenly gone now that you had this man seated deep inside you. One thrust and you’d become putty in his hands. 

Logan pulled out about halfway before slamming into you, and the sharp moan you gave him as you clutched his shoulder drove him forward like a war cry. Every thrust was harsh and powerful enough to make you see stars, and you wondered briefly if it was possible for a dick to shatter someone from the inside. 

“What did I say?” Logan grunted into your ear as he fucked you, “I told you to tell me what feels good, baby, didn’t I?” His movements started to slow. “If this doesn’t feel good I can stop-”

“No!” you whined, actually pouting despite yourself. You were a grown ass woman, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d pouted. Apparently he could see it, because Logan chuckled as he lifted your leg from around his back to reposition it over his shoulder, opening you wide for him. 

“Then if this feels good, you better tell me, doll.” 

One thrust in that position was all it took for you to know he’d have you cumming in minutes, maybe seconds. 

“Holy-!” you yelped, and the bastard had the gall to laugh as he speared into your pussy over and over again, hitting that spot each time without fail. “So deep… oh my God, you’re so fucking deep, it feels so good, I’m…” Your voice trailed off as your back arched, pelvis pushing into him as his cock drove into you repeatedly while you moaned loud enough that it didn’t even sound like your own voice anymore. 

“That’s it, baby,” Logan sat up on his knees, cock still sheathed inside you as he looked down and spat onto your pussy. He lifted both of your legs this time, hooking them both over his shoulders before swiping his thumb through the glob of slick that sat cooling on your clit and moving it in little circles as he continued to mercilessly rail you. The movement was even smoother now, allowing him to hit that spot deep inside you that had you seeing God with every thrust. He felt you getting tighter, his dick combined with the soft, wet movements of his thumb were working you into a blithering mess. “You gonna give me another one?”

The way you looked up at him then- eyebrows pulled together helplessly over starlight eyes and bottom lip reduced to a quivering, spit-shined pillow- it was the stuff of dreams. Logan did everything he could to commit this moment to memory; he filed it all away and prayed to whatever god was listening that he never forgot the way you looked like an angel as you writhed under him, whimpering as your second orgasm crashed into you and made your pussy spasm around his cock- somehow feeling strong and soft and wrapped in fire all at the same time. Logan knew his own release wasn’t far behind, and the blood that was rushing to his cock drove him into you deeper and harder until-

Snap!

You both felt the rubber snap open inside you. It launched your eyelids open, had Logan’s movements reluctantly slowing as you looked up at him in alarm. 

“Fuck.” Logan muttered. That had been your last condom; he felt his heart start to plummet as he pulled out of you, inspecting the condom with his hands and sighing frustratedly through his nose when he felt nothing but his bare cock covered in your arousal. 

“Um…” you piped up, your voice small and breathy beneath him. “We can still keep going… if you want.” 

Hell yes. Logan began rolling the broken condom off his cock, perking up at the thought of fucking you raw. He tried not to make a habit of unprotected sex, but if you were on the pill…

“I have an IUD,” you added, as if you could read his mind. 

Logan had forgotten those were a thing. Moments like this always reminded Logan how fucking old he was… he tried not to dwell on that right now. 

“...You sure you’re alright with that?” Logan said softly. “We can stop if you aren’t comfortable.” 

You smiled, running a feather-light hand down his forearm. “I’ll feel a lot more comfortable when you’re back inside me.” 

Something darkened in Logan’s eyes as he looked down at you, lying bare and sweat-sheened on your bed beneath his looming form. He’d been getting closer before, but now that he knew he’d get to savor you without a barrier, without anything to numb the pleasure of feeling you completely… he wanted to make this last. 

“You want it?” 

Logan’s tone was different now; there was a dominant edge to his words that made your heart skip a beat. You suddenly felt the urge to play dumb, to eagerly grant him whatever he asked for and beg him for all the things you wanted from him. Your dignity was fading with every second you spent underneath this man.

“Yes,” you nodded, “yes, I want it.” 

Logan looked down at you appraisingly, making you feel smaller in the best kind of way. He gave a little nod. “All fours then, doll.” 

A thrill rushed through you as you rose to line your mouth up with his cock, before he stopped you with a click of his tongue. 

“Other way.”

Oh. 

Slowly, you shifted, spinning around until you were on your hands and knees facing away from him. Your cheeks heated, knowing how exposed you were to him this way. It made you feel like you were under a microscope, but for some reason that part turned you on even more. 

You shivered as Logan’s hands came down to rest on the flesh of your ass, caressing and squeezing without hesitation. 

“You know how many times I’ve watched this ass walk away?”

You waited for him to continue, but his silence told you that he actually wanted you to answer the question. “Uh… more than I’d ever noticed, I’m guessing.”

You gasped as his hand came down on your ass with a slap. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, just enough to surprise you. 

“Every time you left the bar before me, sweetheart.” He said, his voice gruff and thick with lust. “And sometimes I’d go home and think about this ass in this exact position… my fantasies didn’t do you justice, baby.” 

You jolted at a second slap that he delivered to your other ass cheek. Knowing he’d fantasized about you, the feeling of presenting your ass to him like this, the fact that you couldn’t see him from this angle- all of it was overwhelming enough that you actually yelped in surprise when you felt Logan’s tongue on your pussy again. 

“Oh my God-!” You half-gasped, half-moaned as his tongue slid over your lips, into your hole, around your clit. You almost whined when his mouth left you, but definitely whined when you felt him spit on your pussy before slapping your ass again. 

“Good girl,” Logan growled, “keep being loud for me.” 

That was the only warning you got before he plunged his dick into you raw and started pounding you relentlessly from behind. 

You did as you were told, that was for damn sure. Your moans, your cries- all of them merged together into a train of incoherent wailing in rhythm with Logan’s ruthless thrusting. He felt so good, his length reaching places at this angle that made your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open- at one point you might have even drooled. 

Logan was enjoying himself too, grunting and growling as he felt every inch of you squeezing him tighter, tighter. You cunt clung to him, and the soft, wet heat of you was driving him crazy.

“Such a sweet thing,” he muttered, and he was so quiet you couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or to himself. “Always so sunny… so- fuck- dirty now… were you always this dirty, baby? Or is this just for me?” 

You moaned a response, but the mounting pleasure within you muffled your words into more babbles into your sheets. 

Slap!

Logan rubbed the spot on your ass cheek that was inevitably turning red now. “Words, baby, answer me.” 

“Just you-” you moaned, suppressing a sob of pleasure as you felt yourself reaching your third climax of the night. “No one’s ever- ah!- fucked me like this- mmnh!” A strangled moan cut your sentence short as Logan felt you start to spasm around him. Those words, your hot cunt squeezing him tighter than he thought possible- it was enough to push him over the edge as well. 

“Aaahgh- fuck!” Logan’s pleasure overtook him, and he continued his relentless pace as he filled  you while you came around him. Your moans intertwined in that moonlit bedroom, and by the time you were both completely spent your knees had given out, leaving you sprawled on your stomach beneath Logan’s exhausted form curled over yours. 

A couple of moments were all it took for you to wonder what happened now- if Logan was the ‘stay the night’ type, or if ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ was more his style. You had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t a fan of cuddling after sex, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up about him staying the night. Besides, you worked tomorrow, so it wasn’t like the two of you would be getting breakfast in the morning anyway-

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Huh?” You rolled over, turning until you and Logan were both on your sides facing each other on your bed. “Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I know what you look like when you’re thinking about something, you know.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. All those nights at Dusty’s when you’d chattered on and on just to see if you could coax him out of his brooding silence.… you’d just assumed that you annoyed him, that he’d been trying to ignore you.

 But maybe… maybe he’d actually been listening this whole time. 

You sighed, conceding. “I’m wondering if I should ask you to spend the night, and if you’d even want to.” 

Logan looked at you- really looked at you- then slowly leaned toward you until his lips softly touched yours in the gentlest kiss he’d given you tonight. 

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me, doll.” he said when he pulled away, before placing one more of those soft kisses to your forehead. 

You woke the next morning to the sound of your alarm and the smell of coffee. 

It was still dark, and you followed the scent of morning brew like a zombie until you found yourself standing in the kitchen with a mug of hot coffee in your hand. 

With Logan, who also held a mug of coffee. 

Wait…

Oh shit. 

The events of last night flooded your mind, and when you finally registered that not only had Logan stayed all night, but woken up before your alarm and made you coffee? You felt like you were dreaming.

“...Good morning.” you mumbled, your voice croaky as it always was in the morning. 

Logan smirked at you, taking in your bed head, your smudged makeup from the night before, your sleepy eyes- all of it was endearing to him. He nodded, raising his mug in a toast. “Morning, doll.” 

You stared at his mug, then yours, focusing on it as if it were a puzzle you couldn’t solve. “You made me coffee.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I did.” 

You took a sip before staring at the mug again. “How’d you know I like it black?”

He shrugged, “Figured anything else would be too sweet for you.” 

You chuckled, inching closer to him and tilting your chin up to meet his in a sleepy kiss. “I have to be at work in an hour.” you groaned.

“I have to be at work in half an hour.”

You gasped, “Oh my god, are you going to be late?” to which he simply shrugged.

“They’ll wait on me. Boss is a softie.” 

“That’s something you two have in common, then?” You grinned, knowing he’d probably hate being called a “softie”, what with his gruff exterior and strong, silent type vibes.

Logan rolled his eyes, pairing them with a wolfish grin. “Is that what you’d call the way I fucked you last night? Soft?” 

You felt a rush of heat at the reminder of last night- you’d be thinking about this encounter for a long time. “That was definitely not soft.” you said, sighing wistfully. “Waking me up with coffee, however-” You clinked your ceramic mug against his and smiled up at him smugly. “-soft. In a very good way.” 

Logan grunted, shaking his head with a rueful smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Logan had left soon after that, leaving you to shower and get ready for the day. You hadn’t had a very in-depth conversation with him about where the two of you went from here… but you put that out of your mind for now. You’d have plenty more evening’s at Dusty’s with him to DTR. 

The day hit the ground running at work, keeping you busy enough that the night before only crossed your mind when you sat down and felt the echoes of Logan’s thrusts between your legs. Everything seemed normal for the most part- until fourth period, that is.

“Excuse me,” murmured Kurt, one of your quieter students. “Can I go to the front office?” 

Kurt had seemed off since he’d walked into your classroom that day; nervous for some reason. He was stumbling through his words, his German accented English tumbling from his mouth clumsily. 

“What do you need to do in the office?” you asked him gently. 

He seemed fixated on his watch, fiddling with the dials obsessively and refusing to meet your eyes. “Someone is dropping something off for me. I really really need it.”

Something strange happened then. Kurt’s features- his raven hair, his pale skin- glitched. For a second, his skin was royal blue and his eyes shifted to a golden yellow. Then, as quickly as the changes had appeared, they changed back and Kurt was Kurt again. He glanced down nervously at his watch again. 

Realization dawned on you then, Logan’s words at the bar last night echoing in your head.

 A mutant in this world learns pretty quick that it isn’t safe for them to be themselves.

Your eyes must have widened dramatically, because Kurt went from nervous to frantic. He looked like he was about to try and salvage the situation somehow, but you stopped him. 

“This-” you gestured to Kurt’s watch. “-does it help make school safer for you?”

His eyes were nervous saucers as Kurt bit his lip and nodded. 

“And it’s acting up, so someone from home is coming to help?”

Kurt nodded again. 

“Would you feel better if I walked down there with you, or worse?”

He thought about it for a moment before nodding again. “Better.” 

It only took a moment for you to ask the teacher next door to you to watch your class while you walked with Kurt down to the front office. The whole time, your mind rolled through anything and everything that you knew about Kurt.

He was one of the kids from that Xavier Institute that you always drove past on your way to work. Not much was known for sure about the strange boarding school. Officially, all you knew was that some students learned every subject at the school and rarely left, while others studied their core subjects here at the public school and got all of their other credits from the Institute. The rumors, however… they were much more elaborate than that. 

There were several rumors floating around about the Xavier Institute, but the most common one you’d heard was that it was a school for mutants. 

Kurt came from that school, and you were starting to wonder how much truth there was to those rumors. 

“Oh danke Gott!” 

Kurt’s relief was evident as he entered the front office, running immediately to…

Logan?

“Dammit, Elf, I told you to have Hank look at this thing weeks ago- oh.”

Logan’s sentence was cut short when he saw you frozen in the entryway. Slowly, his wide eyes and surprised expression shifted into a devilish smile of recognition. “Hey you.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Hi.”

Kurt looked bewildered as he tinkered with his watch, fitting an attachment onto the face of it that he’d grabbed from Logan the second he saw him. “Do you two know each other?”

Your mouth opened and closed, not quite sure what lie to tell before Logan swooped in with, “All teachers know each other, kid.”

Kurt seemed to accept that answer, shrugging and turning to face the front desk and ask the secretary if she had a screwdriver. You took the opportunity to inch a little closer to Logan.

“You’re a teacher? You didn’t tell me that.” 

Logan shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” 

You smiled ruefully, shaking your head. “Well whatever you teach at that Xavier place…” You beamed up at him.  “they’re lucky to have you.”

He looked back at you, a tender smile stretching his lips just enough to crease the outer corners of his eyes. “They’re lucky to have you too.” 

You felt your cheeks heat at his praise. Eager for something else to look at, you watched Kurt as he expertly worked the dials on his watch. “Kurt’s a great kid. Super smart.” You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the way Logan was watching him, too- proud, fatherly admiration was evident in his gaze. He had been the one Kurt called when he’d needed help…

“You wouldn’t happen to be his…” you asked, to which Logan replied with an immediate-

“No!” he shook his head quickly, “No, far as I know, I’m nobody’s dad.” His voice was low and gruff as he chuckled the question away. He glanced back at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eye before lowering his lips to your ear, only speaking loud enough for you to hear his whispered addition.

“‘Course, I don’t think I’d hate it if you called me ‘daddy’-”

“Okay, Kurt!” you practically jumped away from Logan, face feeling hot as the summer sun. “You almost done with that thing? Mrs. Smith can’t watch our class forever, can she?”

“Just a second!” Kurt mumbled, still focused on his watch.

Your eyes darted to Logan for a moment, taking in his smug little grin and the way his pecs puffed up when he crossed his arms over his chest-

Damn. Barely twelve hours after he’d fucked you into your mattress and you were already horny for him again. 

Taking a deep breath to bring yourself back to earth, you grabbed a post-it note and a pen from the receptionist’s desk, scribbled your number onto it, and handed the little neon pink paper to Logan. 

“Here. In case…” Your eyes flitted around in search of a reason other than in case you want to fuck my brains out again. “...in case this isn’t the last time something like this happens.” 

Logan grinned, tucking the post-it into his jeans pocket. “Of course.” he tapped a sarcastic finger to his temple. “Smart thinking.” 

“Okay!” Kurt said, jogging over to the two of you from the front desk. “Alles gut! We can go back now.”

Logan nodded to Kurt. “Then that’s my cue to leave. See ya, kid.” Then turning to you, he added, “Ma’am.” He dipped his head as if tipping a hat, pulling a small involuntary giggle out from under your breath. 

“Sir.” you replied, mimicking the gesture. Logan’s eyes darkened in the most delicious way when you called him that, and he looked to be biting the inside of his smirk as he turned and exited through the front doors. 

You hadn’t even made it all the way down the hallway before you felt a buzzing in your back pocket. Upon checking your phone, you saw a text had been sent from an unknown number. The content of the message, however, left no question as to whom the sender was. 

Drinks tonight?

You grinned giddily as a schoolgirl, quickly typing out a reply and hitting send just before you re-entered the classroom. 

Do you even have to ask?

A/N: I've never written for Logan before, so I hope his characterization feels right! Writing this felt like walking around in brand new shoes- still breaking them in. If you enjoyed this, let me know! ❤️

Taglist (just a few people I thought might be interested): @the-unforgivenn @ghost-proofbaby @pastel-pillows @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult

[kradogsrats]

Revisiting the Arc 2 Opening

So particularly @raayllum had done some detailed analysis and predictions based on the comparison of Viren and Callum's variant arc 2 openings, but I want to return in the post-s6 space now that we have Claudia's opening as a third point of comparison because that addition has an impact on how the original two relate to one another and what each one is saying.

The basic sequence of each opening is the same: from the initial star-map zoom (associated with destiny/time-blind vision of future events) the camera circles the principal character, placed at the celestial Sea of the Castout, as they turn to stone. Aaravos's giant hand swoops down and plucks up the statue, now contextualized by size as a pawn or other game piece, to admire from within his prison with a satisfied smile.

The most important point to understand about this sequence is that Aaravos doesn't personally turn Viren, Callum, and Claudia to stone, but is able to capture and manipulate them as pawns because of it:

This doesn't seem like much of a distinction at all, particularly because the petrification that results in Aaravos's satisfied claim on each mage is a representation of dark magic, which is... what allows Aaravos to influence/control those who resort to using it.

We get the direct link between the heart, dark magic, and Aaravos's influence/control explicitly spelled out by s6, and (as many noticed before)... go figure, in all three openings the corruption petrification begins at the heart.

Now, Callum is actually the only one who knows explicitly about the connection between dark magic and influence/control by Aaravos. Viren has sort of intuited it by the end of s5, in that we can see by portions of his dream that he's aware on at least a subconscious level that he was not in his right mind during at least the latter half of s3. This is why the distinction between the petrification being a factor allowing Aaravos's control, rather than an effect of it, is important—the conflicts and dynamics being represented are more complex than that. For example: Viren's opening, it turns out, isn't about Aaravos at all.

That's a Reach

When the primary arc 2 opening, featuring Viren, was revealed as part of the lead-up to the s4 release, there was a decent amount of speculation as to what it meant—the connection with Avizandum's death was recognized immediately, but what did that signify? Would there be further-reaching direct consequences of Viren's involvement and the archdragon-killing spell? Would Avizandum himself somehow have expanded significance? What is Viren reaching for: Aaravos, redemption, another chance at life?

Mostly, it set the tone for s4 and arc 2 in general, particularly regarding Viren's character arc, with strong mood and themes of helplessness, the past, regret and consequences, cyclic harm, and (of course) death. Not even to mention the looming presence of Aaravos and his relationship with Viren as his pawn. It was a vibe.

It wasn't until after s5 and/or s6 that the opening came into full context: Avizandum, in his final moments, turns his back on the battle with Harrow—the cycle of violence that he, himself, has contributed to perpetuating—and reaches for the child he will now be unable to protect from that violence.

Viren, as it turns out, does the exact same, as we see explicitly in s5 and continued implicitly in s6. Like Avizandum, he reaches for his children, unable to save them from the damage he has already done—all of it through dark magic.

On its own, it's an elegant implementation of the parallels TDP is so fond of to demonstrate that both sides of this long-time conflict have inflicted harm on each other and themselves in very similar ways for generations. Even at the time of s4, however, we had Callum's opening obviously derived from Viren's, and after s6 we have Claudia's, as well—both of which come with their own context that builds off of Viren's in different ways.

Lost Child

So while Viren's opening actually has very little to do with Aaravos (prior to Aaravos's actual appearance grasping him as a literal pawn), Claudia's (and Callum's, which we'll come back to in a bit) is difficult to interpret as not being related to her personal dynamic with Aaravos.

Interestingly, Claudia's opening places her at a very specific point in time, since it's visibly between two major physical changes to her body/appearance—her lower leg is missing, severed by Rayla in the Sea of the Castout at the end of s5, but she still has her long hair from before prompting Terry to cut it off for her early in s6. Even more specifically, she has the half-and-half split of black and white hair, which is already majority-white in s6e1:

This is Claudia in a moment we don't see on-screen—when, having failed to collect Aaravos's prison and not knowing that Viren has been offered and rejected the Infantis Sanguine spell, she turns to Aaravos in the dark of night and is willing to do anything to save her father.

I could do a whole thing here about the nature of Claudia's perception of Aaravos as both a paternal and divine figure, but the relevant part is that her only association between dark magic and Aaravos is a positive one—as far as she's concerned, Aaravos gave humanity dark magic as a benevolent gift, and her main reason (at least that she's willing to voice) for hesitating to give it up is that Aaravos kept his promises to her and it would be right to keep her promise to free him. In her opening, she goes from pained and defeated to looking upward with total trust and hope—looking to Aaravos the way she would have looked to Viren.

Her petrification shares the single tear with Viren and Avizandum, really cementing her place as another loop in the cycle of harm between humanity and Xadia that has dark magic at its heart. That callback to Viren's opening also puts hers in dialogue with him as much as with Aaravos, placing her in the same position as he is in a reflection of his horror and dismay that she has followed his path and example so closely.

Given that Claudia dramatically changes appearance (and, to an extent, attitude) immediately after this opening is introduced, it's possible that we'll see a different variant for s7... but given the end of s6, she actually hasn't really changed all that much. She has doubts about how to proceed with her life after Viren leaves, but as soon as Aaravos re-enters the picture, her conviction is back. She may not have done any dark magic after s6e1, but I don't think that's because she's decided to give it up.

Key Framing

Given the context of Claudia's opening, Callum's opening becomes unusual because it references Viren's without tying back to Avizandum and that cycle of harm. It's still on some level about dark magic, but Callum's relationship with dark magic isn't tied up in family and inheritance like Claudia's and Viren's are—instead it's focused entirely on fate vs. freedom, and on Aaravos specifically.

Callum's opening appears only for s4e4 ("Through the Looking Glass"), where he is possessed by Aaravos and it is established that his single use of dark magic is what allows that control, and for s5e8 ("Finnegrin's Wake") when he uses dark magic a second time. The shared opening puts those two episodes in obvious dialogue with each other, since s5e8 never makes explicit that the danger of dark magic for Callum is control by Aaravos—something he has already asked Rayla to end his life in order to avoid.

The focus in Callum's opening, both by its visual prominence and Callum's own gaze directed at it, is the Key. While Viren and Claudia's petrifications end the way Avizandum's does—with the single tear—Callum's ends with the Key in a blaze of light.

I expect we will see Callum's opening return for s7, possibly even as a primary opening, but it will almost certainly be recontextualized at some point and possibly even changed to a variant that reflects that new context. The Key is an element that will contribute to Callum's doom or salvation—or both, as a key can both lock and unlock—and its prominence in his opening reflects that and will likely be informed by how that resolution develops.

All of Us, Stardust

Speaking of alterations to the openings:

The final, altered version of the Viren opening kicks off s6, acting as a last, fun little extension of the "is Viren dead?" cliffhanger of s5. Aaravos's hand reaches down as usual, but instead of firmly grasping the petrified Viren, he very briefly hesitates before pushing it slightly, instead. The petrified Viren then crumbles and collapses into dust.

We first saw (or rather, had described to us via frantic convention attendee note-taking) this opening at the first reveal of s6e1, which was originally shown without any of the scenes revealing Viren to be alive. There are a lot of ways it could be interpreted, from a straightforward "he'd dead, Jim," to my own kind of fanciful theory from the time regarding Viren, dead or alive, having been made unusable by Aaravos as a pawn.

One way to contextualize this opening is with this old illustration from Patience, which ties in closely with the Aaravos chess/pawns motif (and was a significant part of contextualizing the arc 2 opening as "pawns"):

Now, there are a lot of things about this image that are important, not least the confirmation/reinforcement of the chain of manipulation of dark mages by Aaravos across thousands of years from Ziard to Viren, with the implication of Callum in the future. What I'd like to call attention to is that in chess, tipping over a piece is a gesture specifically used only with the king, and specifically to indicate that you are resigning the game and the opponent is victorious.

I don't think there's anywhere we've seen Aaravos truly lose, except for possibly when he was imprisoned, because his plans have levels of redundancy that mean they don't depend on any given individual—a game of chess hinges on the king, but Aaravos is essentially playing six or eight interconnected games at once, and a loss on one board only reinforces his remaining pieces on another. Losing Viren, deliberately or not, empowers his influence over Claudia... exactly as we see in the sequence of arc 2 openings. It would be difficult for them to have replicated the tipped-over/toppled king imagery with the petrified Viren without having to do some labor-intensive camera work on the existing opening pattern (e.g. do they show the ground when he falls? What even is the ground?)—so I think there's a strong likelihood that him crumbling to dust is meant to have a similar resonance.

Anyway, I'm kind of dancing around some complex theorizing and analysis of Viren's death that I go back and forth on depending on the day, but basically I do still think the important takeaway from this opening variant is that as far as Aaravos is concerned, Viren is off the board. That it's the opening for s6e1, rather than a special use for s6e8 (as Callum's variant openings are handled) is also IMO a positive sign regarding Aaravos's loss of control and direct manipulation of Viren over the course of s6. I don't think we've heard the last about Viren, and between Claudia, Soren, and Kpp'Ar there will definitely be a multifaceted interpretation of his legacy with significance in s7.

Opening the Final Season

Ultimately, given the dialogue between the three (four?) variant openings we have seen so far for arc 2, I think for s7 we can expect:

the Callum variant will appear at least once

at least one new Claudia- or Callum-based variant, OR possibly even an Aaravos variant

a new variant (possibly one of the ones from the previous point) to close out the arc for at least s7e9

That's my fevered ramblings about this 20-second repeated sequence, thanks for coming to my continuing insane TED talks on this and other ridiculous topics.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have anything for high school cheerleading? Tips on writing sports-related work would be appreciated as well. Thank you!

Writing Notes: Cheerleading

Cheerleading - team activity in which elements of dance and acrobatics are combined with shouted slogans in order to entertain spectators at sporting events and to encourage louder and more enthusiastic cheering.

Once exclusively a sideline activity geared toward supporting school sports, cheerleading has gained recognition as a sport in its own right and often operates outside the school context altogether.

HISTORY OF CHEERLEADING

Although cheerleading is today predominantly associated with femininity, the original cheerleaders were men.

Cheerleading was connected to the emergence of gridiron football at Ivy League colleges and universities in the United States in the mid-1800s, and the growth and formalization of cheerleading paralleled that of football.

The first organized cheerleading squad was formed at the University of Minnesota. The squad, consisting of 6 male students, was tasked with leading crowd cheers and chants at football games.

Over the latter half of the 19th century, as attendance at college games grew, large stadiums were constructed, and spectators were distanced from the playing field.

Cheerleaders—or “yell leaders,”—led cheers from the sidelines both to encourage the spectators and to serve as a form of crowd control.

Cheerleading remained a male activity until the early 20th century when women began to participate (and the first megaphone was used), leading to the formation of the first all-female cheerleading squad at the University of Minnesota in 1923.

The megaphone made it easier for the spectators to recognize and take up the battle cries. With the entry of women, the nature of cheerleading changed:

Gymnastics, dance and even acrobatic elements were incorporated into the program, and cheerleading was introduced into high schools.

CONTEMPORARY CHEERLEADING

Cheerleading remains “feminine” not only in terms of its supportive sideline function but also in the performance and appearance demands placed on women:

short skirts

hair ribbons

makeup

the expectation to smile constantly and express enthusiasm

Competitive cheerleading - even more highly feminized than sideline cheerleading insofar as there is a heightened emphasis on showmanship and performativity.

Although there are stylistic variations among the cheerleading companies that oversee competitions, competition routines are typically:

loud,

fast, and

energetic.

They exude glitz, glamour, and glitter, particularly in the all-star context: bows are extra large, makeup is extra sparkly, and dance moves are brash and sexy.

Since the 1990s, “alternative” forms of cheerleading have emerged alongside the mainstream variants discussed above.

An extensive national network of adult LGBTI (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and intersex) teams (modeled after Cheer San Francisco, the oldest and largest) perform at community and gay pride events, and “radical cheerleaders,” groups of young feminist activists, use cheerleading as a vehicle for protesting social injustice.

Although less popular and less visible than mainstream cheerleading, such alternative groups similarly use the energy, spirit, and performativity of cheerleading to communicate with and influence audiences.

THE WARM UP

The warm-up involves moving the whole body, as well as individual joints. It consists of 4 main functions:

Warming-up

Preparation

Preventing injury

Building team spirit

STRETCHING

Over time, the following 2 stretching techniques have prevailed:

Active stretching - a self-directed stretch, i.e. a muscle is stretched because its antagonist is working.

Passive stretching - an other-directed stretch, i.e. it requires an external influence, e.g. a partner, piece of equipment, etc.

Both techniques can be further divided into static and dynamic stretching.

Basically, you should stick to the following points when stretching:

Always stretch calmly and gently

Always concentrate on the muscle being stretched

Always breathe regularly and calmly, increase the stretch when exhaling

Stretching should never be painful

The practice area temperature should be comfortable

MOTIONS

Motions - form the basis of many important cheerleading movement patterns.

High V - Arms are stretched above the head in a V shape.

Low V - Arms stretch downward to form an upside-down V.

T-Motion - Arms are stretched out to the sides; arms and body form a T shape.

Half-T - Arms are still at shoulder height, but in this motion, they are bent at the elbows instead of being fully extended to the sides.

Touchdown - This motion is so-called, because the football referee performs the same action after a touchdown. The cheerleader touchdown motion is, unlike that of the referee, performed with locked arms. Extend the arms above the head, with the upper arms almost touching the ears. The hands can form a fist or a blade, the important thing is that the palms of the hands face each other.

Right Diagonal - The right arm hits a High V and the left arm a Low V. The arms should form a straight line from the right fist to the left fist.

Left Diagonal - The left arm hits a High V and the right arm hits a Low V. The diagonal runs from top left to bottom right.

Right L - The arms form an L-shape. The right arm is in the Touchdown position and the left arm is in the T position.

Left L - The left arm is in the Touchdown position and the right arm is in the T position.

Punch - The right arm hits the Touchdown position close to the right ear and the left hand is placed on the left hip. The left hand forms a fist and the back of the hand faces forward.

Clap - The hands are held in the blade position and pressed together. The fingers are together and the hands are flat. The elbows are held close to the body.

Clasp - The hands clasp each other when they touch. The elbows are kept close to the body.

You can combine the motions together, thus giving new variations.

CHANTS

Chant - a combination of words and actions.

It is a kind of speech song consisting of very few words, used for encouragement.

Unlike cheers, chants can be shouted spontaneously throughout the game.

The crowd is supposed to shout the chants along with the cheerleaders, to support the team. The cheer team shouts the chant once by themselves and the second time, the crowd ought to join in. Examples:

"Defense Go!"

Defense: Take one step to the right with the right leg, then slap your thighs twice, shouting “DE-FENSE.” Lean forward slightly.

Go: On the word "Go," bring the left leg in and the feet together and the arms perform the motions shown. After the word “Go” there is a short pause. This chant is now performed in the other direction, i.e., starting with the left foot.

"Go, Fight, Win!"

Go: On the word “Go,” perform the K motion to the left, with the head facing forward.

Fight: On the word “Fight,” bring the right leg in and hit a High V with the arms.

Win: On the word “Win,” bring the arms down from a High V to a Low V. Make a lunge forward onto the left foot. Bend both knees and distribute your body weight evenly over both legs.

CHEERS

Cheers - consist of a combination of words and movements.

Much longer than chants and are not repeated.

Always consists of several lines, most of which rhyme.

Not only longer than a chant but also has a completely different purpose.

Tell a short, appropriate story and cannot just be inserted during the ongoing game, unlike the chant.

Only performed during the official time-outs or before and after a game, i.e., during a pause.

This should always be observed, for during a cheer, the cheer team wants to ensure that they have the crowd’s full attention during the cheer. This can only happen during a break.

Should always have a positive message to motivate the crowd and the team.

Examples of Cheers

"Come on Team"

Come on: Step forward onto the right foot, keeping the back straight and leaning forward. Outstretched arms are crossed in front of the body, knees are bent.

Team: The left leg is pulled into the pose, the left foot is next to the right knee so that the left knee points forward. The right arm hits the Touchdown motion and the left hand is placed on the left hip. The left elbow points backward.

"Let's be Proud"

Let's be: Make a lunge forward onto the right leg, so that you are kneeling on one knee, while crossing the arms in front of the body, and bending the head toward the floor.

Proud: The arms are stretched up into the High V position. The upper body is straight and the head is raised. The tip of the right foot touches the ground.

JUMPS

The role of the cheer team is always to entertain the crowd and to provide a good show.

A well-executed jump is particularly eye catching, and a successful, well-synchronized jump is a real crowd-pleaser.

Jump Phases

Every jump can be divided into 4 phases, and the cheerleader must master all four.

Preparation

Lift

Execution

Landing

Examples of Jumps

Tuck - In this crouch jump, the upper body remains upright and the legs are tucked up toward the upper body, with bent knees. Make sure that the feet are together. Take off from and land on both feet. The arm position can be changed and means that the arms can be held in either the High V or the Touchdown.

Toe Touch - Extend legs to the side immediately after take-off, and tilt her hip forward. The legs should be brought up as high as possible, making sure that the knees face upward and not forward.

Pike - The legs should be parallel to the ground. Immediately after takeoff, the legs are raised and straight. At the same time, bend your chest toward your legs. Straighten the arms and touch your toes with your hands. Don’t deliberately try to touch the toes, as this can prevent you from jumping as high as possible. In the Pike, both feet are together for take-off and landing.

DANCE

Dance has become the most important component of cheerleading for many teams. These teams are called dance teams. Most commonly used dance styles:

Jazz

Hip-Hop

Funk

Novelty

Character

STUNTS

Stunts - the formation of pyramids of various sizes with at least two people.

Double stunts - usually carried out by two people.

Partner stunts - by 3-4 people

Pyramids - by as many people as desired.

These numbers do not include spotters, of course, who must always be present at any kind of stunt.

In every stunt, there are 3 different roles:

Base - the person who remains on the ground in a stunt; supports another cheerleader (the mounter) on her hands, shoulders, back, arms or legs

Mounter - the person who does not have ground contact during the stunt, as she is standing on one or more other people

Spotter - additional person who supervises the whole proceedings but does not take part in the stunt; always stands where the mounter could fall, and, when necessary, intervenes and catches the mounter

Every stunt consists of 3 phases:

Set up

Execution

Dismount

STYLING

Hair and make-up naturally help to create a unified appearance, and they are part of the dress code along with clothing.

Every team decides for itself which hairstyle the members want to wear and how they want to make themselves up.

It is not necessary for all team members to wear the same make-up, as skin type, face shape and eye color differ from one person to another, so it is difficult to find make-up that suits everyone.

Deciding on a certain lipstick color and the intensity of the make-up can already go some way to ensuring a unified look. But these decisions are made by the team and the coaches. There are also teams whose cheerleaders wear identical make-up, which is also fine.

The main thing is that everyone understands the decisions and that everyone is totally present. Presence shows as soon as you step onto the field or the stage.

OTHER ELEMENTS

Music

Formations

Props

Tumbling

Tips on Writing about Sport

Tell a story. Sport is all about what-happens-next – an open-ended form of storytelling in its own right, presenting rags-to-riches parables, fairy stories, farces, thrillers, tragedies and cautionary tales, sometimes all at once. Books about sport should aspire to the same sort of narrative excitement. Triumph and disaster should remain in play until the final whistle.

Tell a larger story. While the game, the race or the tournament is afoot, sport can seem all-encompassing. But the best books manage to place sport in a larger frame. Write sport as something that ripples beyond mere winning and losing.

Have a central character. Imitate the action of the traditional novel by narrating the trials and tribulations of an individual life. It is not easy for stories about team sports to attain the level of human drama that belongs to individual adventures.

Take us behind the scenes. Readers love to peek through the curtains of what we see on television to glimpse real stories, real voices.

Look behind you. Modern sports pages have become promotional vehicles: today’s newspapers describe tomorrow’s games. Live TV coverage has replaced ordinary reporting, leaving a gap in the market for detailed retellings. Sport is theatre, so dramatise, dramatise.

Write about sport as if it matters greatly – and also not at all. Its struggles are only figuratively life-or-death, and failure is just as gripping as success. It is in these gaps (between sport’s importance and its triviality) that irony and humour can take root and ripen.

Strive to avoid back-page jargon. Sports punditry is dominated by ex-pros who agree that everything is the referee’s fault, and articulate this in terms that have already been much parodied. So it is important to refresh the vocabulary. Not every opportunity has to be “golden”; not all penalties are “hotly disputed”. In fleeing from these, it is also important also to avoid the language of art criticism. Banging on about beauty, the sublime and the paradoxical sounds boastful when the subject is … darts.

Accept your niche. In the name of populism it is tempting to woo readers who don’t care for sport with populist or self-deprecating gestures. But aiming a book about motor racing or boxing at people who dislike such pursuits will only alienate those who might have enjoyed it, while failing to engage the attention of the non-interested. By the same token, never talk down to readers: safer to assume that they know more about this than you ever will.

Break some or all of the above rules, when necessary.

In sport, as in life, something is always hidden.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Thanks for the request. This was so interesting, I learned a lot. Hope this helps with your writing!

[oneknightstand-if]

All Hallow's Eve (Interlude Broderick)

"Why are we watching scary movies now? Isn't our life already enough of a shitshow B-grade horror movie as it is?" Broderick groused from his place sprawled out on the right side of the couch.

To his left sat Gwen, front and center with a giant tub of freshly popped and highly buttered popcorn, and beyond her Lorelei perched on the sofa's plush armrest, eyes wary and every muscle tensed, as if she half expected the group to be attacked at any passing moment. Maybe by the movie that they were now settled down to watch.

Granted, considering what'd been happening to them lately, that wasn't a particularly unlikely outcome. So why were they even tempting luck by...

"Tis a modern-day Samhain tradition!" Merlin merrily exclaimed from where she's ensconced in an overstuffed armchair to Broderick's other side. For a moment, he merely squinted suspiciously back at her artfully tousled locks and the smug curve of her perfectly plump lips. "All Hallow's Eve... or rather, your quaint Halloween and all its candy-pillaging customs."

The mage's chair was tilted just so to keep a convenient eye upon both those sitting at the couch and also the small group gathering around the table at the back where a Ouija board was currently being set up after Percy had declared that dicking around with a haunted Ouija session would be safer than watching the movie.

Although obviously phrased differently and using far less words. Despite that announcement, the slim boy was currently wearing a pair of aviator-style 3-D glasses.

Of course, the movie that they're watching wasn't in 3-D. Had there ever been a good 3-D horror released? Because it certainly hadn't been Jaws 3-D or My Bloody Valentine, that he can personally attest to!

MC had joined the latter after announcing that Merlin wasn't allowed to play. A strangely sensible sentiment from the other so-called Harbinger for once. What daft idiot would trust a self-proclaimed succubus during a Ouija session? And of course Adrian had gone to join them, even as he pushed up his eyeglasses and stared dubiously down at the board game.

Did that damn pair of glasses even properly fit him with how often it kept sliding down his face and...

Wait, what was that?

Halloween special (with spooky sound effects!) featuring ę̸̡̧͇̭̝̐͊̒̅͋v̸͚̖͖̮͎͉̀́̅͘è̷̱̞̹̜͍̰̉̂̑̒̚r̵͎̈́̈y̸͉̭̪͓̎̈̃̈́͜o̸̭̹͑͂ṅ̶̦͇̪̻̱̏̏ë̸̯̦̼̤͖́̎̄ available on the Riders of the Apocalypse Groupies + above tiers of my Patreon.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Wanted to ask, is Eridan's relationship with his dad ok? Like when Eridan was learning how to use his harpoon gun he seemed very much distressed and not enjoying any of it

The only real canon characterization we have of seahorsedad is that the version of him that's Cronus's lusus is "stern, fatherly" and that he ditches Cronus for Hussie, although that last one is mostly just a Bit so I don't really count it as characterization. He's also willing to go along with Eridan "doing something ridiculous," though, again, that's kind of a Bit and it's unclear how canon that is.

((cw for abuse and stuff beneath the readmore))

As such, pretty much anything I say is going to be pure extrapolation that serves my characterization of Eridan, and I can't really back it up with hard textual evidence. But, personally, I think Eridan believes his relationship with his lusus is "good" in the way that many children growing up beneath strict, emotionally neglectful, and even outright abusive parents do.

We know that Eridan has very few friends. He doesn't even really talk to half the people in their group chat, and according to Feferi, he's never spent more than a few days underwater, total, in his whole life. Add onto that that lusus murder (and, by extension, the culling of the orphaned troll) has been his duty long enough that he describes it is "the only thing i evver did," I think it's a reasonable assumption to make that he also has no IRL friends, aside from Feferi.

And to give an idea of how old Eridan was when he started having to murder lusii, here's how old Vriska was when she was expected to start feeding spidermom:

This, and the fact that Dualscar was called "Orphaner" because the job of feeding Gl'bgolyb was his even into adulthood (as he lived before the Summoner's rebellion and the removal of adult trolls from Alternia), and the fact that no one, including Feferi, ever shows any gratitude towards Eridan for performing the job, supports the idea that feeding Gl'bgolyb has always been a violet blood's responsibility. After all, Feferi makes overtures about not being better than other trolls, but she sure does revel in being royalty when she can get away with it. It'd be in character for her to not be particularly grateful to Eridan because she sees lusus murder as fundamentally being his responsibility, especially if he started when they were both REALLY young.

In other words, Eridan was expected to start murdering lusii (and by extension, other trolls) from the moment he was old enough to do so, which, judging by how old Vriska was when she started killing trolls for Spidermom, is not very old at all.

Also, given the lifespan of violet bloods, it's entirely possible - and my personal belief - that Seahorsedad was Dualscar's lusus as well as Eridan's. Even without that being the case, since it was always Eridan's job to hunt and kill lusii, the biggest possible culprit for inducting him into his role would be his lusus.

And let's be clear, I think the fact that having to murder lusii/trolls is the biggest culprit for what's fucked Eridan up the most. The pressure of having the safety of the entire race on his shoulders, the fear of Gl'bgolyb and what happens if he ever fails, and the guilt of taking lives (which we do know Eridan thinks about) have left him with genuine struggles caring about other people, a nasty martyr complex (which isn't unjustified), extremely unstable and negative emotions, shattered interpersonal relationships, and a deep, nihilistic sense of resignation towards his place in society. The latter has directly led to him attempting to embrace that place by tricking himself into thinking he believes in hemocasteist, sea dweller supremacy rhetoric - which his actions contradict - because, without the game's intervention, he had no other options available for him but to become a key figure in the imperial army, continue murdering other sapient creatures until he died, and watch all his few friends die before him, either when they got culled, killed on the battlefield, or purely dropped dead of old age.

And, like... a parent who does that to their child, even if we assume the absolute best (that Seahorsedad does genuinely care about Eridan), can't possibly have a fully healthy relationship with said child. And I think it's not unreasonable to assume that the best is not what's happening between Eridan and Seahorsedad, because Eridan's psychological profile is so fucked up that I highly doubt he was receiving much, if any, actual affection or support from his lusus. Personally, I think his lusus was "stern and fatherly" in the worst possible way - high expectations, no emotional warmth, and complete disregard for Eridan's psychological well-being, as long as he was producing adequate results.

Because Eridan craves attention, and has very little distinction between good and bad attention. He's naive and trusting to a fault, hardly ever suspects anybody of lying to him, and has basically no social skills. These all say to me that Seahorsedad is just, like... not giving him any emotional attention at ALL.

And poor Eridan is just 13 years old - still too young to fully realize how poorly he's being treated by people who are supposed to care about him. Like, yeah, he's completely obnoxious and exhausting to talk to, and you can't really blame Feferi or Kanaya for being sick of listening to him, but at the same time, some of the shit they do to him as a result is honestly just mean. Like Kanaya is just actually bullying him- training him up to be a wizard as a joke, shitting on him behind his back with Rose, making fun of him to his face - and yet:

He's just that fucking desperate for people to care about him and support him; I can't help but think he's just not getting that at home, you know?

So I think if you asked Eridan, he'd say that his relationship with his lusus was good, and that his lusus was proud and noble and stoic, and absolutely a great custodian, and there were no problems at all.

But I think if you were to dig deeper into their relationship, you'd start to hear worrying things like that Eridan never got to celebrate Twelfth Perigrees, and was instead dragged out to go lusus hunting because it was particularly easy to do so on that day. Or that his lusus had to pull the trigger FOR him the first time they ever went hunting, because his own hands were shaking too hard. Or that he'd be locked out of the hive every time he cried, until he stopped crying altogether. Or that he thinks he's never been sick a day in his life because he was never allowed to have an off day and not go hunting and now he's just used to ignoring any and all symptoms. So on and so forth.

He reacts EXTREMELY POORLY to Feferi saying she feels like she needed to look after him - more poorly than to the initial news that she was trying to break up with him:

And I think that's because weakness was punished in his household growing up. He wasn't allowed to be weak - he was nobility, royalty. He had duties, responsibilities. If he faltered, their whole race died. And when you consider the fact that "you have to kill things for the good of everyone you care about, all the time, constantly," is the abject lesson that's been hammered into him since he was old enough to walk and talk, the fact that he's so incredibly fucking adamant about murdering angels starts to be a little... sad. He's just stuck in that mindset. He doesn't know how to escape it.

So... yeah. In summary: his relationship with his dad is great!

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 24 Months

Well, these past couple months have been hell, with a light at the end of the tunnel that I’ve now reached, but still. Anyway, on with the show…

So, before I get into the really gritty stuff, my jaw and teeth were converted pretty early on, as well as my ear bones. The former were a little funky, but honestly nothing really changed there, since I already don’t need to chew things, losing my teeth was no big deal, and for the latter, there was a small blip in my hearing - for a few minutes - but then it came back, honestly better than before. I wasn’t super worried about the hearing loss, particularly after eyes taste and smell, only how long I'd be deaf for, but fortunately, as I said, it really wasn't a problem. I’m pretty sure that my slime has just replaced my inner ear’s function innately, and since hearing is just interpreted vibrations, and slime is pretty good at vibrating. What was and has been nice is the cat ears I made a few months back can now actually function, which took a little getting used to, but my hearing is super good now, if a little overwhelming at times.

Right, on to the less pleasant parts: Remember how in the last update I said that apparently you know when your brain goes, yeah, that’s true, and it’s ‘cause it’s genuinely the most painful, disorienting, and scary thing I have ever experienced. First of all, unlike a lot of other changes, it kinda just goes all at once - I think it’s a survival thing, the brain/core wouldn’t function while being half transformed, and it’d probably kill you if they tried to. Only issue is that this means that your brain basically dissolves over the course of a few hours, which is excruciating, and the weeks leading up to that absolutely suck as well.

The first thing I noticed was the pain - headaches, some of the worst I’ve ever had (which I know I’ve said a lot over the course of this, but I was fortunate before to have very little issues, and turns out transforming your whole body hurts). I tried to take some painkillers to help, but they don’t seem to work any more - not sure if it’s ‘cause my biology is so different now, or ‘cause my body breaks them down too well, but either way they don’t work, so I had to suffer through the pain.

Either on top of or because of the pain, I've had a general sense of disorientation. It started off as just sometimes getting a little turned around in games and the like, but it progressed to getting lost if I tried to go anywhere (which was compounded by some other stuff too). Frankly it's a good thing in the final days before my brain changed that I hurt too much to go anywhere, else I probably would have ended up somewhere entirely unknown at a really vulnerable stage in my transformation.

I also have had some memory issues while things have worked things out. My memory has never been amazing in the first place, but I started to get very forgetful, forgetting appointments, plans, even eating (I'd usually ‘remember’ when I started idly eating random things I had around, which has meant I've lost a few things, but I don't remember what so I'm keep finding things I need to replace). I’m also pretty sure I lost some older memories too, but it’s really hard to tell if that’s from normal forgetting or forgetting ‘cause my brain was becoming mush, it’s kinda scary not knowing. This is also part of what compounded my disorientation - when telling left from right is getting hard, forgetting where you're even meant to go or have come from only makes things worse. Also, try reforming yourself from a puddle when you barely remember what you were before… definitely had some interesting shapes recently. Honestly, it was terrifying, I actually didn't know if I'd ever be able to remember things again (obviously I can, but I didn't know that at the time, and my memory of that period are sketchy at best)

Of course, the pain I mentioned earlier made it hard to focus on things, but even beyond that my ability to focus seemed to vanish. I have been so easily distracted over the past couple of months. Genuinely a glint of light or something could completely draw my attention from whatever I was doing, and then I'd usually completely forget what I was doing, get distracted by something else and wonder off. I apparently walked off in the middle of so many games and videos and just any activity I was doing. Frankly it's a miracle that I have any notes, or remember enough to actually write this entry, I kinda spent most of this last month piecing together what I do remember and have notes of (the notes are not the most legible, worse than my normal handwriting which is awful anyways (there's a reason I type these updates)). 

On top of all this, I also had nightmares and hallucinations. The former sucked, but honestly asides from waking up in some weird shapes in attempts to either fight or defend myself from whatever was jumping me in the nightmare (assuming it was a monster one) they were over once I woke up. The hallucinations were worse, since they could appear at any time, and oh boy do they seem real. Sometimes they were small things, noises, or a shape in my periphery. Other times they were blurry, intimidating figures in the distance. And of course with my inability to focus on things, these hallucinations would only be another thing to distract my addled brain. The worst though, was waking up from a nightmare, a puddle unable to reform, and the nightmare continuing as a hallucination in the real world. That'd usually shake me up for a day - and annoyingly my memory issues didn't really seem to extend to them. I'm still working out what was real and fake from that time, and it has not been easy, or fun. My ‘brain’ feels like goddamn soup whenever I think about that time. 

On top of everything else, sometimes I'd faint. Sometimes due to pain, other times (particularly towards the end of the transformation) I'd just keel over, only to wake up in a puddle of myself. It was really disconcerting and scary… kinda felt like my brain was just cutting out, and I was a little scared it might not cut back in at some point… and of course that’s one of the things I remember clearly, the fear and worry of that - very clear that the ‘remember bad shit’ survival instinct was and still is functioning, as annoying as that is.

Since I don't particularly want to linger on those thoughts more than I already have, an interesting thing to note is that even through all of this, my actual mental faculties didn't diminish - while I was forgetful and distracted, if I managed to make myself, I found myself just as capable as before. I partially did this to help assure myself I wasn't losing myself, but also because, let's be honest, slimes aren't known for being the brightest bunch, and I've been a little worried this whole time that I'd get dumber or something. The pamphlet I was given didn't really say anything about this happening, but I know from trans hrt that the information your given doesn't always include every possible effect (I know it certainly failed to mention the attention issues during the most recent stage, and the blindness from before) 

But, despite last month being basically the worst month of my life, I have survived, albeit a little scrambled, and I'm slowly putting everything back together. And of course, now, there's nothing human left in me! I'm all slime!!! (It makes me so unbelievably happy to be able to say that now).

Interestingly, unlike everything else, my brain hasn't fully gone, instead I ended up with what I quickly realised is a slime core! For those unfamiliar, slimes can have a core, which is essentially like their brain/major organ inside them, usually looking like a small coloured sphere. While slimes are usually pretty hard to damage permanently, damage done to a slimes core can be very debilitating, like heart, brain, or lung damage for humans and stuff. 

I actually think I had a kind of proto-core before hand, but didn't notice it, and I think it came around about when my digestive system was changed, since I think my core manages matter-to-slime conversion (I'm guessing this ‘cause that's improved since my core has now fully formed). I guess I didn’t spy it before ‘cause it was too small or something?

On that note, my core is/looks like, interestingly, a kind of verdant green gem. It mostly just seems to float inside of my goo, although I can move it around my body wherever I like, but I tend to keep it either right in the middle of my torso, or in the middle of my chest (at least in human form). Both areas have a decent amount of goo protecting my core, and it looks neat to have it there. 

It does actually look really pretty, especially when taken outside of my body (don't worry, it can be taken out of my body, so long as it remains in contact with my goo I'm completely fine), and yeah, just kinda looks like a funky green stone/gem. I am curious as to why it's green, and I'm kinda hoping it's gonna boost the efficiency of my photosynthesis, and that it's green ‘cause of chlorophyll, but I don't honestly know yet, need some nice sunny days to properly test it out. 

I did find out that if my core does become separated from my goo, I can just reform another body from stored goo around the core, leaving the old body to fall (but I can just reabsorb it afterwards to maintain mass). Oh, and before anyone worries that I was being reckless, I made sure to check that I wouldn't die before I tested anything.

On the note of stored goo, it seems like excess goo/matter is stored in the core, like fat in humans. I'm not sure what or if there's a limit or what happens if I try to eat too much, but as far as I've gotten for now, it seems to be fine. I have noticed that I actually seem lighter now, I still seem to weigh about as much as I look like I should (maybe slightly over) and as such it changes if I make myself grow bigger, but not really if I eat things. I'm not entirely sure quite what's going on there, as that seems like some physics defying shit, but it's actually super useful, means I can store as much mass as I'd like and not break the sofa when I sit down. 

So asides from all of those experiences and changes, I've found a couple other things that have sprung up from these changes. Firstly, I've found that my body feels much more coherent, I'm very much now one gelatinous entity, rather than bits of one and bits of another. Movement feels much more fluid now, especially outside of a humanoid form (not that I've gotten worse at being humanoid, just better at everything else) and I honestly find myself kind of hot swapping between slime ball and slime girl as I need/feel like it. Also navigating crowds is super easy now, just kinda slipping and moving between any gaps (I could kinda do this before, but again, now it feels so second nature). On top of this, my multitasking seems to have improved. I still can’t say one thing while writing another, but I've gotten better at physical multitasking; I struggle less coordinating my ‘hands’ when I try playing the piano for example (I still can't play it, but I've got more of the coordination for it). Add in that I can very easily have several limbs/pseudopods/whatever you want to call them at once (which is honestly why I think my multitasking has improved, it's to facilitate control of the numerous structures I can now produce) and it’s become very easy to manage multiple, physical, tasks at once. 

One thing I have noticed myself doing, almost subconsciously (and honestly, this might've started a little before now, but I'll talk about it here, since I've really noticed it now), I'll just adjust my body however I need in the moment. Now, this may sound kind of obvious, but it's a little funky (but mostly neat) to just suddenly grow an extra limb, or pseudopod to hold or grab something quickly, or to just adjust my mass to better balance or manage something. Again, very neat, but a little funky to realise when I didn't consciously think about it. 

Relatedly, shaping has become easier, not sure if that's due to practise, or having a more compatible neurological centre, but I seem to be able to shape myself quicker, and I seem to have gained a better memory for shape too, the latter is definitely due to recent changes, or at least, definitely due to the treatment.

I've  also still been working on my acid control, which feels like it's gotten easier, but again I can't say whether that's from practice or the recent changes, but I can at least somewhat reliably keep an area of my body acid free now for a bit.

Unrelated to the treatment, but I'm actually much shorter now, at least in my humanoid form, clocking in at around 4’4”(slime ball form has remained the same size, at around 30cm tall). I always liked the idea of being really small, and I can now, and it's not like it really offers any disadvantages, since I can just reach tendrils up to grab things from high up (with eyes/vision so I can see what I'm doing), plus it means I have more spare slime to spend on other, more fun things than just being tall. This all being said, the idea of using all my slime to become really big also has its appeals, but it's less practical for day to day life. 

To touch on one final thing, I definitely don't feel human anymore. I'm a slime, through and through, humanity is just a memory. I've mentioned before feeling more and more detached from humanity (if I ever felt truly attached) as this process has gone on, but now that I'm seemingly done, I don't feel human at all. Interestingly, I find this aspect has been remarkably similar to gender transition, with the feeling of being a guy slowly fading away until it seemed alien to think of myself as one, which kinda feels like where I'm at at the moment. I'll likely catch myself still including myself in humanity from time to time for a while, but I can safely say I'm a slime, and I am so happy I can now. So that’s what my life has been for the last couple of months, and while parts sucked - like, really sucked - the end result is so unbelievably worth it. While this feels like the end of slime hrt, I do have an appointment planned with the doc to talk about my next step and hopefully get myself onto shapeshifter hrt, so my next update will probably be about that. See y’all then!

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@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog

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[dingodad]

This might be a ridiculous question, but does Lord

English have control over sburb? The alpha timeline

Is set to only be the one that allows the creation of

Lord English after all. Does being Lord of Time mean

that he is the one causing all the doomed timelines

to be destroyed or that he is causing Skaia to do it?

Is Skaia just in a way another one of his unwilling

servants? I guess what I’m saying is, are Lord English

and sburb even against each other? Sure his

machinations cause the destruction of universes,

which is the opposite of sburb’s purpose, but also

his influence is why those universes were made in

the first place.

one of the biggest persistent misconceptions homestuck readers have is that all events in Sburb are controlled by some overarching, interfering intelligence, and that this intelligence's name is Skaia. when a character is given a particularly cruel or gruelling hero quest, "Skaia orchestrated it"; when a character's actions cause a timeline to become a doomed offshoot, it's because "Skaia didn't want that to happen". but this is explicitly untrue:

ROSE: ... Skaia is a very passive entity. It only "knows" and "sees," but it never quite "acts." ROSE: When it is asked to change everything, there is only so much it has control over. ROSE: In fact, it has control over exactly one thing. The defense portals. ROSE: It can decide to send important meteors to different points in time than originally planned, thus creating alternate realities.

(remember how all games of Sburb start off with the exact same parameters, and it's only data input by the players that causes events to deviate?)

this is related to, and compounded by, another misconception which came to be common toward the latter half of the story: people fundamentally misunderstand what a "narrative" is and therefore get it into their heads that in order to be a narrator a character needs some kind of "narrative powers" - where did dirk get his "narrative powers"; how can doc scratch be the author-figure of alternia if he "doesn't have narrative powers"? people think that, in order to have dominion over the incipisphere, Skaia must be some kind of wizard, capable of both predestining events and shaping reality to match its predictions. and i have occasionally humoured or implied support for this interpretation by referring to "what Sburb wants" or "Sburb's agenda", but these are merely convenient anthropomorphisations. the fact is that anyone can tell a story, and almost any kind of power can be wielded to reinforce a chosen narrative: highbloods control the narrative on alternia simply by living a long time; lord english controls the narrative not by conducting every single event to his whim but by being present at the beginning and setting small, key events in motion... Sburb is much the same. a video game is a type of story which can control its outcome with rules and code, but that's the full extent of its power; the rules and code can't change, no matter who's playing the game, no matter what the supercomputer running the game "thinks", and no matter what immortal time-travelling demon may or may not have hijacked the process.

in one sense, yes, Skaia has been made Lord English's "servant". but in another, more important sense, Skaia cannot "serve" anything, nor can it be "for" or "against" anyone, because it is not a moral entity. Skaia is simply the cosmic force of creation, and creation and destruction are not good and evil. creation is an intrinsically neutral act, which can be at one time beautiful and at another time devastating - as in cancer, which is a disease caused be cells reproducing without limit! (and in the inverse: not only is destruction not always a net negative in homestuck, it is almost always a requirement for growth and rebirth; heroes must die to become gods, planets must die to give birth to new universes... the destruction of universes is not a uniquely disparagable crime that Lord English is committing, but rather a larger manifestation of a pattern that is intrinsic to the ecosystem of Paradox Space itself, just as it is intrinsic to real-life ecosystems.) this is in fact exactly what Karkat alludes to when he speculates the universe he created is cancerous. as should be obvious, there's nothing actually physically wrong with the universe he created; it's just that, like a virus or a cancer, Lord English has hijacked the process of creation for his own ends and made his own birth inevitable if the process of creation continues unchecked - a process which the horrorterrors, gods of death who at first seem to be malevolent but are in fact revealed to be victims, attempt desperately to prevent!

[dvdmitri]

A bit more on the violence in Doctor Who.

I'm currently exactly halfway through The War Games, Second Doctor's last story. And I'm happy to see how it gave Jamie a chance to shine.

Jamie McCrimmon, to be frank, is an English stereotype of a Scottish person. Fiercly loyal, painfully earnest, not particularly bright and prone to aggression. Frazer Hines is the main reason he's so likable, I feel.

The character's role was to be the Second Doctor's muscle. Whenever solution called for an application of brute force, Jamie was always called upon. However, that means he got worfed pretty often, since there's gotta be a lesson for the kiddies, that violence is not the answer. In later seasons, Unit would take upon this role.

Sure, it was fairly justifyable most of the time, since the Tardis crew was going up against the Ice Warriors and the Cybermen and the like. The sort of foes that are implied to have enough strength to break a regular human in half with their hands. The mere fact that Jamie got out of his many scraps alive is a badge of honor in itself. But in the long term it means that we're saw his kilted ass get kicked every other week, because, again, Violence is Not the Answer.

And so, I can hardly, just how happy I am to see my top 5 favorite fictional Scottsman actually wreck some fools. In The War Games, he's going up against regular humans mostly. So, when the main characters get ambushed by a bunch of troops, Jamie punches out some before they have to retreat. Later on, after being separated from the group, he hijacks a horse from under a Confederate soldier. Then, he leads the resistance's infiltration of the War Chief's base. The latter was straight into another ambush, but A for effort.

I'm just glad he got to be a badass before it was all over.

[impishjesters]

Mafia Boss Jax x Reader

warning(s): gun mentioned, stalking mentioned, domestic/soft Jax, marriage mentioned note(s): Honestly couldn't really see much worth tagging, it's all just stuff you'd expect to see mentioned in a mafia/gang headcanon... A/N: So I saw a fanart thingie (and I've had it on the brain anyway) and it made me thirsty for some mafia boss Jax and I just... I might have to write up a one-shot (or series) at some point but this was enough to quench my thirst...temporarily. I can definitely see myself building a universe around this idea though. I'm excited as you can tell because I just kept fuckin' going in writing this out... Also feast upon domestic Jax in the latter half, I got mushy...

Jax is a tricky boss, it’s hard to get a solid read on him, as an enemy or an ally. He’s almost always sporting a grin, making it difficult to gauge unless you can tell those smiles apart. If he’s frowning? Ha.

He’s that fine middle ground of laid-back yet strict. His word is law, get shit done and do it right and he doesn’t particularly care about the rest.

This person needs to be killed, but before that, they need to be tortured for information. How you torture or kill them doesn’t matter, you get that information or else.

Rabbits are his motif design, not originally by choice but it stuck. Purple rabbit head, his signature grin, it’s childish—which is why it’s perfect, only idiots see that childish design and think “Oh this will be easy” and then it’s fuckin not.

Working for him means nobody is an exception to his little pranks and fuckery. Nothin’ too bad—not intentionally anyways. Bunch of wackos with guns, who thought they’d get trigger-happy when startled?

If you work for him, chances are he finds you a fun target for his mischief.

He might seem buddy buddy with you, but remember he’s your boss. Chances are you are acquaintances at best, not friends. At least for now—who knows?

If you’re dating him, well howdy hey aren’t you a pretty little thing on his arm?

Just kidding, regardless of whether you work under him or not you are given standard gun training as protection for yourself and him, but mainly yourself.

He does like it when you are his date for any events, though he’ll never say it. Jax is the type to bring up an event and do the whole shtick of “guess I’ll need to find a date” sorta guy.

Back on the topic of dating him and gun training—on the off chance you are dating and don’t know about his little crew and lifestyle… What the fuck’s wrong with you? Are you that blind? His position isn’t some well-kept secret, well not to anyone who knows anything.

Jax is pretty straightforward about it, except with his track record of joking there’s like a 97% chance you thought he was kidding when he said he’s a mafia boss. Ha, surprise.

Now if the two of you are dating, and you aren’t part of his little world then he does do his best to keep you out of it. This means that there are periods when you won’t see him, whether it’s because he’s busy or for safety reasons.

You aren’t safe from spam texts, calls, and video chats though. Nah, that’s all fair game to him baby.

Oh, you got work in the morning? Tough, he’ll stay on the phone/video with you until you pass out—he might go a step further and stay on the call for hours even if you are unconscious.

He does it for one of three reasons…

One, it gives him fuel to use whatever shit you say or do in your sleep to tease you with later.

Two, your company, albeit silent and unaware that you’re keeping him company, makes him feel less alone. Moments like this are often when he’s not working and at home, alone. Hearing you breathe, babble, and shuffle around on speaker has him feeling less alone in that big home of his.

Three, it gives him some piece of mind that you are okay, he can see and hear you, and no guns or glass are breaking to be heard. You’re safe. Moments like this are usually after stressful events, whether it’s a job gone wrong, someone injured, etc.

Those calls usually last through the night into the morning and you wake up and see the call still on or see him on the screen. He’s never told you about why some calls continue into the morning, or rather why he’s still awake when he should’ve been sleeping. Though it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s not just him being a stalker, but something more serious—if the oddly sweet tone he uses when telling you good morning and asking how you slept is anything to go by.

That said, Jax is not a morning person—even to you. Though if he’s awake before you or has yet to sleep, he’s oddly tender and domestic when it’s just the two of you.

“How’d ya sleep, angel? Dream of me? Nah, don’t answer that, I know ya did.”

“Hey sleepyhead, got ya coffee and breakfast ready. No, I didn’t put anything suspicious in it. I’m wounded doll, ya think I’d put in all that effort to make you breakfast just to ruin it?”

Okay so he’s still a little shit, but he’s got an unspoken soft spot for you.

Speaking of soft spots, if he’s truly down bad for you then that means you are his weakness. He can’t have those—no he’s not gonna kill ya Christ calm down—that means you’re at risk of getting hurt if word gets out.

So if the two of you aren’t at that level yet and are still living apart, he tries hard to keep his distance to keep the attention off you.

But if you are living together? You’re still at risk but he’s got his security measures, and bodyguards galore—even if you don’t live together he always has someone watching you—sure it’s a little creepy but just don’t think about it alright?

I said don’t think about it.

Jax does yet doesn’t understand the line of stalking. To him he’s keeping you safe, to you it’s likely an invasion of your privacy—but if you are anything like me then as long as there’s no malicious intent he can do his own thing. I dunno bout you but I’d rather him have eyes on me than something bad happen to me.

While living together it doesn’t take a genius to tell you that Jax visibly relaxes in your presence, especially when he comes home and gets into bed with you. He’s such a domestic sucker deep down, but you don’t need words to see that.

Overall, I feel like Jax wouldn’t date you if he didn’t have serious feelings for you. His lifestyle isn’t for everyone and he doesn’t open up to just anyone, it could take years before he finally allows himself to even ask you out on a date before considering more. But once the two of you are together he sees the two of you in for the long run, he’ll probably be upfront about it and say if you aren’t in this for the long run and potential marriage then he can’t do it.

Your Jax’s ride or die, please allow him to be yours too.

[literallys-illiteracy]

New Trailer thoughts and notes:

Oh wow im so gay:

Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mommy?

I dont even like Rodion, in fact i still dislike her but... Uh. wow?

Theres not too much to note here, im the EGO person not the ID analysis person (at least for now :3), but for the skills.

Skill 1 appears to be 2 coins piercing. Skill 2 appears to be 3 coins, likely Piercing. Skill 3 appears to be 4 coins, almost certainly Piercing as well. Unlike the other 2 La Mancha Land ID's we've received so far, she seems to have a skill 4 rather than an empowered skill 3, being Dulci's Finale attack, which appears to be 4 coins of AOE piercing.

Finally, she appears to mark the return of playable clashable counters, hopefully we get an unbreakable coin counter, but thats just being a bit too hopeful.

also this ID has the most fanservice of any in the entire history of the game, and of COURSE it needs to be on a character that i dislike just so i cant thirst as hard over her.

Fell Bullet Yi Sang:

First i want to note some things about the art within this EGO's art; most notably is the shattered glass effect and presence of the fluchshutz itself in the background, while it does appear in Heathcliff's fell bullet ID, with its back facing heathcliff's, instead it appears in the centremost shard, with its barrel facing Yi Sang's head.

This note is furthered by the awakening line making mention of "The gun barrel on *My* viscera", rather than another's as in the fluchshutze's story.

The second divergence from Heathcliff's art is the lack of the fluchshutze's traits, having not the halfed face covering that heathcliff had, nor the reddened scarf. This is notable for the main reason that, in the awakening animation of heathcliff's, his face was entirely obscured with said mask of the shooter — These differences in appearance could be due to a number of reasons, even as an arbitrary choice, but it is likely due to resonance with the EGO itself, Heathcliff's being much stronger and thus taking on more traits of the abnormality.

The third divergence and one i will return to later, is the lack of a pendant. If you look at the shooter's art, at Heathcliff's fell bullet art as well, there is a clear pendant visible around their neck, the last remnants of their loved past. Keep note of that i suppose.

Now onto the awakening skill, something interesting to note is the fact that it seems to hit an ally as well as multiple enemies, shooting through heathcliff's Heart'(?), (its not a visible enough detail to note for sure, but i am assuming that this is intended), just in the same way that the devil's final bullet peirced the heart of the freischutz. Also, I think that PM still don't really know how guns work, because, just like the Thumb's "Muskets" that is a rifle. Im not particularly into guns but im 90% sure so.

If we're counting friendly fire, then it seems to have an attack weight of 7, with the latter coin (as he fires twice) seeming to only hit 2, the ally and one of the enemies targeted by the first.

The Corrosion is interesting, the sprite making Yi Sang take the form of a mirror, likely the form of the pendant itself (although there are like 4 mirrors in the sprite so take with that what you will). Contrast this with Heathcliff's corrosion sprite, being that of the heart, for that same reason that Heathcliff seems to be the one used as a friendly fire target in the awakening, for the devil wishes for despair, and to eventually claim their heart.

The corrosion appears to have one coin, and about 6-7 attack weight, once again counting Heathcliff, who remains in the very centre of the ironsights, (Or scope rather, as the gun is changed in the corrosion to include one, despite the art of the Fluchshutz' depicting the ironsights.

The screen that flashes before the shot is "IFF system - Level 3: Deactivated". From what i've found, an IFF system is "Identification Friend or Foe" which should be pretty self evident to its relation here.

Ill make a longer/separate post discussing the WHY of Yi Sang getting this EGO, and any other tangents along the way, but from what it seems, this is likely going to be a Pride or Gloom skill (if i were to guess), and have 2 coins on awakening. It seems to be the first awakening since SOUPCLAIR to be indiscriminate.

[thegenderdruid]

now that I've had a bit of time to reflect I have thoughts(tm) about the ending of 1000xRESIST, spoilers below the cur for the ending of the game although weirdly not in a way that touches on any major plot spoilers, more about themes and message and I'll try to avoid unnecessary details to minimize the spoilerage as much as possible

Ok so at the end of the game you get a sequence where you're asked to pass judgement on all of the characters of the game and decide whether or not to let them live into the future or not, when I first got to the ending my first instinct was to try saving everyone but doing so resulted in what the game clearly presented as a bad end since it didn't roll credits and kicked me back to the start of the scene which I found extremely unsatisfying, but after a quick break and some reflection I took the hint that the game was very clearly shoving in my face and chose not to save the pro-fascist rebel character who was shown in the first ending to be a problem(tm) but did once again chose to let the fascist government's soldiers live and that gave another bad ending where the main character of the 2nd half seemingly randomly became a dictator herself and executed all of her old friends for some reason, and finally I once again took the hint and chose not to save the old regime's soldiers too and that finally got me the game's real ending, notably I still saved the morally grey leader and lieutenant of the fascist regime but the renegade and ths grunts had to go to get a good ending. Which is fascinating to me, particularly the latter, at first I hated this decision but the more I think about it the more I think I respect it even if I personally disagree, like this is specially a game in part about refugees from the fascist regime in Hong Kong and while it's easy for me as an outside observer to take my moral high ground and say that in a post-fascist regime we should forgive and try to reintegrate the people who chose to serve out the state's evil will, I can absolutely see why this is an issue the game wants to take a stand on and while I disagree with their conclusion, the fact that it forced me as a player to grapple with that issue is something I actually respect a lot now that I've had time to reflect on it and a very creative use of the video game medium to present this ethical question, so yeah, great game, really interesting ending that grew on me the more I thought about it

[crusherthedoctor]

💛 💚

💛: What is a popular ship you just can’t get behind, and why?

Sonamy, predictably. Three decades worth of official material, fanfics, fanart, a month dedicated to it on this site, and I still feel nothing towards it, and in fact have been actively turned off by it for multiple reasons. Including: little consistency among fans over how it would function and thus making it hard to imagine the "true" dynamic, fans often neglecting Sonic's needs and seeing him as little more than a trophy that Amy has earned, official teasing in stuff like Boom and Prime requiring dodgy characterization in order to back it up...

Outside of Sonamy, as hinted at earlier, with me tending to be more interested in rarer Sonic ships, you could say that very few popular examples do it for me, with Sonaze being the only mainstream exception that comes to mind. Sonadow? Meh. Shadamy? Meh. Silvaze? Meh. Is it an oversaturation response? Is it because a lot of the time, they tend to use their pre-established popularity as a shortcut for not having to put effort into their actual chemistry together? Who knows.

Whispangle is particularly tragic, because in an alternate timeline, I think I could have enjoyed it. With what Tangle and Whisper were apparently set up to be as individuals, I think it could have been cute and perhaps even comforting in the right hands. But of course, like Starline's self-destructive simping for Eggman, the comic had other ideas, and so we're left with rampant flanderization and conjoined twins who ended up being more toxic together than the writers probably realised, not helped by them also having Lanolin the Sally alongside them.

Shame.

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favourite character?

I've already explained why Eggman being less evil than other Sonic villains is James Somerton levels of delusional, but it goes beyond that.

"Eggman is a family man" Nope, robots he built don't count. Excluding temporary allies and certain simps, he is very much a lone wolf compared to someone like Bowser, with even his thoughts on the late Gerald largely stemming from a selfish lens of the latter's genius making himself look good by association. Given his ego, he also probably wouldn't be interested in having a heir to his throne, because it's HIS empire, and ONLY his: he would just find a means to immortality instead.

"Eggman can't plan" If that were true, 95% of the game plots would never have happened. Using this to handwave shitty writing in a comic whose premise leaped off of Forces, a game where Eggman is constantly planning, is Mr. Fantastic levels of reaching. The intro cutscene for Unleashed, a moment that I'm pretty sure fans fondly reminisce over to this day, had a setup that specifically relied on the idea that Eggman can plan. If you're going to claim he can't plan because he makes some mistakes and ultimately loses to his nemesis, then you might as well claim that all video game villains can't plan... including other villains in this very franchise.

"Eggman is cowardly" My man is so hands-on that he's the sole boss of half the games. He also made a beeline towards the Time Eater mere seconds after it appeared in front of him without warning.

"Eggman is physically inept" He punched a wall of ice.

[melmac78]

Here’s chapter seven of the Lexington story. The picture on the left is from the main entrance, but shows a good picture of the flags discussed in this chapter. (If it looks familiar, this is the background that @lenle-g used as the backdrop for the amazing artwork based on this story, but you can get this on the flight deck too. The flag on the right is W and sourced online.)

The photos below include the bridge, which accesses the flag area, the flag bag and information about it, and a T-34C mentor which is at least painted like a Flying Tiger. This plane, however, would’ve trained pilots and not for battle. (This is a plane model I’ve flown in.)

Previous Chapter 6

••••••

About and hour and a half later, after treating patients in the wardroom and checking up on others, the Tracy brothers discussed options on what to do next.

Each brother started discussing means to contact other ships minus using Four.

This lead to a huge argument between Scott and Gordon, especially as the latter postulated he could use sonar to make his way to land.

Virgil tried to mitigate the argument via walkie-talkie.

John, who was sound asleep fighting off his illness, didn’t hear a peep.

The youngest, who was already feeling a headache and warm in his uniform, was fed up. Alan said he’d start searching the flight and bridge deck.

Miffed when neither brother was listening, he started on his course, stumbling slightly on the fairly smooth floor. Shaking his head he pinched his nose to stave off the uneasy feeling he had.

A few minutes later, the older two brothers realized he was gone.

Scott contacted the youngest, who explained what he planned to do.

The eldest confirmed the idea might work, and Scott and Gordon, along with Jacob, started working on ways to prevent more illness.

Little did they know a person had overheard as they treated a camper, and left before the duo did to keep eavesdropping on the Tracy brothers, particularly the aquanaut.

They had been told to let this run its course, and work on a way to explain any hospitalizations… or worse. After all - the product needed to be refined, and the less known how much of a disaster this test was, the better.

•••••••

Alan looked around the flight deck, and saw nothing but the blue water of the Atlantic Ocean.

"I've got to find some way to get an alert out to people we're here," he thought and looked at the one of the planes still blocked on the flight deck.

He looked at one painted like a Flying Tiger and placing a hand on it, sighed.

"I really wish we had some jet fuel - Scott could go and fly, but we don't know where…" he started then paused when his head again swum slightly, making him take a few fast breaths.

Alan didn't quite get why he felt like a fish out of water so to speak. It seemed simple climbs were a little bit more laborious, but his breathing now was clearly panic in his mind.

He took a deep breath and sighed. "OK, need to calm down… hyperventilating won't do John any good,” he said, ignoring the niggling feeling in his gut something was wrong.

The youngest then turned to go back up to the main bridge to get a better look of the area around the ship for possible means to signal help.

As he started he felt the wind blow again, making him shudder as though he had a sunburn and the air conditioning was on.

He rubbed his face tiredly and turned to his right where the T-34C was, sitting heavily on the stairs.

"I don't believe it Virgil … I'm frying in this outfit," he said to the vehicle, tapping his comm briefly. "You know, like one of those Astro Dogs at the Astros game we went to…"

The comm clicked off when he leaned toward the plane again and patted it, trying to get it to laugh.

When the plane naturally didn't say anything, he frowned at the painted on snarl. "Come on Virgil - don't snarl. That was supposed to be a joke," he said, playfully punching the plane.

He recoiled in pain from the punch, and had a moment of clarity he hit a plane.

Shaking his hand, he confirmed he hit the plane. “That isn't Virgil…I'm getting to be as bad as John did with those dummies..." he said, pausing and wincing as a wave of dizziness got him.

It was starting to make sense… and that uneasiness came at him stronger. Double with the recollection of the night before…

Alan realized to his horror he had it too. "And John also is… no, not me too. I need to get us help - and fast,” he said, shuddering in the wind. “But how..."

The astronaut braved a glance upward to the bridge, and saw the colorful flags in the air. They were doubling… or blurry… but they seemed to be important.

“The tour yesterday - Gordon said….”

His eyes widened in fevered delight as a plan formed in his head. It was risky with his health but it was a way to get help.

The youngest astronaut hit his sash. "Gordon, you're a genius," he said and started up the ladders to the bridge.

Gordon who was near the open bay near the fo’c’sle, frowned, confused at the comment.

He was thankful however there was one spot the baldric comms worked.

“How am I a genius Alan?" he said through the comm.

All he got was a cut off speaker, hit again when Alan bumped into a railing from vertigo and caught himself.

The aquanaut frowned. "Alan... you OK?" he inquired again, tapping his sash. This time he didn't hear a response.

The youngest astronaut however groaned from collision, but continued as though the others could hear.

"I'm going to set up a signal flag! There has to be a ship nearby - maybe even WASP - that could see it and get help," he said, pausing at the top of the bridge area when he felt a bit dark and unlevel.

He steadied himself. "If I can get there… take it slow Alan, don't pass out,” he said, half feeling his way to the door leading to the flag bag area.

Alan made it to the spot, a small lookout like area where the signal flags were and, tracing then rope with the flags, was able to free it from the tie-down.

He quickly lowered the flags, pausing only a moment when the world spun alarmingly. Alan rested his head against the wall, appreciating the coolness. "I could get used to this…" he started, and started to slide down a little.

A slight burst of friction heat woke him up and he straightened, tilting wildly. Fortunately the flag box was sturdy and wide enough Alan was able to catch himself and keep from flipping over the side to an unforgiving flight deck..

"Nope! I've got to stay awake - John, the others… I need help, and we can't get it … without the flag," he said as he removed the decorative flags until there was a bare rope.

The youngest Tracy then rummaged through the flags, searching for the "W" flag, and whooped faintly with joy when he found it.

Alan's hands were starting to shake as his body fought to keep him alert. He fumbled with the clips, and was thankful the design was the same no matter how he pinned it up.

He felt his vision again start to go again as he grew more ill, but he was going to raise that flag. It was their only chance.

Thanks to the growing darkness pulling at him, every hand pull felt like like he was trying to lift TB5 from underwater.

Still he was determined to get the flag raised, even if he became a human anchor again.

"A little more," he said, gritting his teeth, but finally, he felt the rope not move and secured it to the holder in a figure 8 formation.

Alan looked up and blearily saw the "W" flag waving clearly in the breeze.

"I did it," he sighed wearily, only to feel the world around him darken and waver once more.

He tried to fight it, tried to even hit his sash's comm, but his arms wouldn't comply. Alan realized this time he was going down.

So, he used those fleeting seconds of awareness to stumble toward the wall, rolling onto his back to help him through this part safely.

"I hope the guys …. can find me," he thought vaguely as he felt himself slide down, aided by the wall. He then fell sideways into the massive amounts of flags on the ground, cushioning the now oblivious teen's head.

•••••

Gordon tried his sash comm again. "Alan, will you please respond?" he said urgently.

"What's the trouble Gordon?" said Scott instead, who had arrived to where his aquanaut brother stood.

"I don't know. Alan said I was a genius, but when I asked what, he just disconnected the comm," said the aquanaut. "Seemed a bit odd for him to say that though. Kind of out there -"

"No kidding, just like that frying Astro Dog comment earli…" started Scott, who then frowned.

The younger man also frowned. "Frying?... He did sound a bit out of it," said Gordon, who then paled. "You don't suppose he's sick now?"

Virgil, who had been listening to both communications, pursed his lips. "It's possible. He's been around John the most, plus had to keep him from falling into a medical storage bay," he said.

"Starting to sound more than likely," said Gordon. "We need to find him, and fast before he tries to swan dive off into a storage bay.”

Scott immediately went into action. "Gordon, you take the captain's quarters tour,” he said. “I'll take the fo’c’sle."

Virgil heard a different squawk on the radio. “This is Virgil, go ahead Jacob,” he said.

“Virgil, do you or your brothers need my assistance?” Said the older man.

The medic looked at his other ill brother and sighed. “Can you keep an eye on John?” He queried. He knew the older man had wrenched his shoulder earlier catching a football playing college student when he collapsed, and couldn’t assist in a rescue.

“10-4 Virgil. Will be there in 5. There’s an extra radio for Scott on the front desk in the office.”

Virgil switched off the radio. “Did you get that?”

"FAB Virgil. You head to the flight deck when Jacob comes over,” said Scott as he and Gordon started their search. Each grew frustrated as their searches were not proving fruitful.

••••••••

A few minutes later, Virgil had reached the flight deck and started searching.

After searching bow to stern, he growled. "Come on bro, this is NOT the time to get lost," he said, hoping he did not succeed in doing a nosedive off the ship.

He looked up as though in prayer.

It was answered… just not the way he'd expected.

Virgil saw one flag now on the mast of the Lexington - and paused for thought.. "Scott, Gordon, do you know if they were going to change the colors today?" he said.

"I can't believe the 'oh so polite' Scouts managed to spell a curse word in the order they flew them," said Gordon with a chuckle on his radio.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "Not the time Gordo - were they for sure?" he asked.

Hearing both men grunt in the negative, he nodded firmly. "I think I know where Alan may be. If I'm right, and he's down, I'll need your help to lower him."

"Lower him?" said Scott, concerned.

"No time to explain bro, just head to flight deck. I'll contact you as soon as I know," said Virgil as he rushed up the bridge ladders.

He hoped that Alan was where he suspected and didn't try to go another 50 feet up to higher parts of the ship with their grapples.

Virgil carefully made his way around the steering wheel and chairs to the exit where the signal flags were stored.

There, in a bundle of nautical flags, was Alan, unmoving.

"Alan!" he said and quickly kneeled by the youngest, checking his pulse.

Feeling the heat radiating off the younger man through his gloves, Virgil shuddered, then switched on the radio. "Scott, Gordon, Alan's in the bridge area,” he said and started checking teen’s vitals.

Scott, who was in the office, pursed his lips. "How is he Virg?" he inquired as he hurriedly left the office and headed toward his brothers.

Virgil gently lifted one of Alan's eyelids and checked the ill man's eye response. "Out cold and burning up," said the medic.

"Darn it," said Gordon on his radio, growing angrier. "Scott, we've got to use Four and seek help."

The eldest shook his head, and remembering the others couldn't see it, spoke up. "Belay that Gordon. Right now we need to get Alan to safety," he said.

“But…”

“Gordon, it’s too risky. We can’t have you drive off in Four and end up falling ill too,” he said.

"FAB," said Gordon, who turned off his radio and started to head up to the flight deck, and upon arrival, then turned to the bridge entrance.

He paused, shaking his head. The risk was great yes, but the reward greater, he mused, and decided to ignore the order.

With that, Gordon turned another route, toward the bow where Four was located.

"John has been out of it most of the morning and his fever keeps going back up despite our efforts to cool him down. And he’d be angry at Scott if we didn’t try to get help for the kids," said Gordon sternly to himself as he jogged to his beloved sub. "Now Alan is sick too, I'm going!"

Gordon climbed into Thunderbird Four and using the emergency thrusters pushed his craft off of the flight deck.

"AaaWeee!" Gordon cried as Thunderbird Four fell the few hundred feet into the waves below. Under other circumstances he would have thought it fun, even though his yellow sub landed on its top in the waves.

"Oof! Don't want to do that again," groaned the aquanaut as he rubbed a bruised shoulder where the harness hit him.

Gordon used the thrusters and soon righted his Thunderbird. The duo dove down deep, hoping to escape detection from his brothers.

Little did he know: he already had a stowaway - one who had already overheard his idea and was in a life pod inside, ready to give him help.

Just not the aid needed.

••••••••

Meanwhile, Scott had arrived to the flight deck and looked up to the bridge area. "Virgil, I'm here. Where are you?" he said through the radio. “What do you need?"

Virgil leaned over the railing briefly to show his location. "See if there's a stokes or something we can carry him in," he ordered.

"Do you need any rigging to get him down?"

"No, I’ve got my grapples and they’re designed to carry double my weight,” said Virgil. “The winds up here are a little stronger - but we’ll have to risk Alan colliding with something. Meet me on the hangar deck."

"FAB, I'll be back shortly," said Scott as he went to search for the items needed.

Virgil finished removing the last flag when the youngest murmured briefly and opening his eyes, blearily looked up. "Are you my guardian angel," Alan asked innocently.

"Not quite bro - I'm still alive for one," chuckled Virgil as he checked Alan's pulse. "Do you know where you are?"

Alan looked at the flag in Virgil's hand. "I think I've either lost a fight with MAX and the laundry again or I got that flag up and passed out," he said.

Virgil smiled. "No on the former - though I want to hear that story someday, but yes on the latter. Crazy move brother, but it just might work," he said, leaning forward to lift his brother. "Now, I'm sure you know the drill now right?"

Alan saw Virgil's body language and winced. "You're not going to carry me are you?" said Alan, whining like a three year old.

"Yeah - sorry Al, I'm going to have to in order to rappel down. There's nothing but ladders here and if you collapse again -" he said, and again checked the younger man's pulse and response.

"Not going to," said the younger, weakly brushing off the hand.

Frowning at his finding, Virgil continued honestly. "Sorry bro, but I'm afraid you will from what I'm seeing. Even if you don't, in your condition we don't need you falling down the stairs from a dizzy spell and get hurt worse."

"No I won't…" Alan murmured and tried to sit up. He sagged back against the wall, supported by Virgil. "O-K, FAB… you win…" he said tiredly.

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, let me do the work this time," chided Virgil as he gently pulled his brother into a standing position.

The move unfortunately was too much of a position change and Alan indeed once more blacked out, sagging into his brother's shoulder with a soft, barely heard moan.

Virgil held on to his brother as he felt the teen go limp. "Easy Alan, I've got you," the medic said in reassurance as he swiftly stabilized his brother and connected the two baldrics together to rappel.

Scott, who had been able to get a backboard to carry their brother, had seen some motion at the spot and frowned. "Virgil? What's wrong?" He half shouted in the radio.

Virgil chose to wait briefly as the feedback faded, then responded. "Alan passed out again."

"Panic attack?" asked Scott. He didn't blame Alan if he did have one at the thought of being rappelled down against his will, ill or not. At least they could carry him down the long frozen escalator.

"No, I think from orthostatic hypotension."

"FAB," said Scott, understanding now it was from a drop in his blood pressure standing an ill Alan up to connect the harnesses.

"I am heading to the fight deck," Virgil said as he carefully connected a rappel charge to a sturdy pipe.

Once assured of its security, he went down the “exit” route with his precious cargo. "Do you have everything ready?"

"FAB, and what I could find to cool him down," said Scott as he laid the items out on the hangar deck.

A few minutes later, Virgil landed on the flight deck, and after removing the harness link, lifted Alan into a fireman’s carry.

Virgil walked a few yards to where Scott was with with a gently moaning Alan. "He's been mumbling on the way down," said the medic as he carefully lowered their brother to the ground. "I think he'll be like John and wake up a little more when we cool him down."

Scott covered Alan with the cooling blanket and checked his pulse. "Why was he up there in the first place?" said the pilot.

"Probably to put that one flag up to get attention," Virgil said, pointing. "I think that one means 'quarantine' or 'medical help' if I've kept some of Gordon's ramblings in my head."

Scott gave an exasperated chuckle. "You're right Virgil - it is one. That crazy kid - no wonder he said Gordon a genius," he said. "Hopefully it'll get us some help - a local trawler, a cargo ship, WASP."

"I hope so too. In the meantime we need to get Alan to the berthing quarters and out of his uniform into something more comfortable," said Virgil.

They both knew like John's suit, it was designed to keep in warmth in a space environment. Alan's fever combined with the suit would cause further issues.

There was a soft groan from the deck, and the two eldest looked down. "Alan, can you hear me," said Virgil gently. "Just relax, we'll have you cooled down soon enough."

The youngest looked at Virgil with dizzy eyes. "Hate being an Astro Dog, Mr. Cheeseburger. Can you hold the anchovies?" muttered Alan before subsisting again.

Scott looked at the teen and gave a weak grin.

"FAB, Astro Dog," said Scott, looking at a slightly bemused Virgil. "Come on Mr. Cheeseburger... let's get Astro Dog here some nice cold ice water to cool him down."

"Definitely," said the medic as he and Scott picked up the stokes to take the youngest to the berth.

In their haste to get Alan cooled down, neither of the fully alert men noticed TB4 was not on the deck.