#sometimes i remember that bastard exists and it’s over for me

[bethiewhimsy]

can’t believe i’m experiencing “i cant watch anything because nothing else will be as good as this” over BRYCE a show by brandon rogers.

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three

cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts

the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.

no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.

it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.

it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?

"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"

as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.

it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.

"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"

it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."

"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.

"why do you care?"

"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."

"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.

"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"

"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."

"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.

ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."

you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"

"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."

you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?

"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"

"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.

your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."

"no," it answers with ease.

"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.

"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.

"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.

"no," it responds.

your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"

suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.

you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.

nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.

"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.

then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.

you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.

you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.

you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.

a silent apology before it vanishes completely.

when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.

you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.

you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.

do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!

[tricksh0t]

★ comfort

☾ jaime lannister x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ prince charming jaime lannister (s1 jaime) is my fav; also genuinely the first fic of mine where the pairing kisses lip to lip

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 3.0k words

cw: long intro, lighthearted s*x, reunion s*x, soft, cheating, light incest (don't sue me, it's game of thrones, they're very distant cousins however many times removed) , calling your lover names playfully (bastard, asshole), more plot than porn (entire second part is s*x, but not focused on the s*x)

"Did you grow up with boy-cousins, Lord Tywin? Sons of your father's bannermen, squires, stable boys."

"Of course."

"And you... never..?"

"No."

"Not once? Not in any way?"

"Never."

You were never destined for anything.

You were born a Lannister, yes, but you were so far from the main line that you were set to inherit nothing. You were only a Lannister by name, long lines of second sons marrying outside of important houses over and over until your blonde locks were nothing but dirty.

Your father did not own a large sum of Lannister fortune. His greatest achievement was being the squire of one of Tywin's lesser brothers; but his brother never lead any wars, and so that was hardly a feat anyway.

When you were born, it seemed like you would follow in your father's footsteps. There was hardly anything Lannister about you.

Your greatest feat would probably be setting foot in Casterly Rock to shovel horse shit to and fro. At least then you'd get to admire your distant cousins, the glorious ones, the ones you'd use in your fantasies as the shoes you'd like to wear.

Except, one day you stole a sword and caught the eye of Tywin's lesser brother, the very same that your father had squired for. He showed you, in turn, to his brother, Tywin Lannister.

Under the Lord of Casterly Rock's eyes, you showed promise.

Before Jaime Lannister ever took up the sword with a purpose that wasn't "because daddy told me to", there was you in the training grounds as far as he could remember.

There was you, strong, barely a teen yet.

You became friends, then, under the sword. Tywin bid you an example for his son. As a boy, you were hardly fit to be an example, so instead you became friends.

Between his overzealous sister, his outcast brother, his jealous cousins and the frightened servants, you were the best friend he could ever have.

From friends, you became... not lovers, but something close. It was hardly romance, it was hormones, it was just boys being boys, and it was only fooling around. A kiss or two, sometimes longer, sometimes with tongue; playing at maturity.

With you, Jaime got a taste for breaking the rules and the thrill of sneaking out of his bedroom under the bright cast of moonlight. He got his first taste of romantic companionship, and he liked it.

You were only a couple years older then, but Jaime's dislike for letters caused him to be bound to the book for several hours a day, and so you were the stronger swordfighter.

He admired you. You were more literate than him, though most people are, and stronger, taller, more built, more worked.

You knew hardship and, as the heir to Casterly Rock, he didn't.

He got his first taste of hardship when you were summoned to become a King's Guard, and he did not like it.

Jaime had never begged before. "Don't go. Please, don't go."

And you had never denied him. "I must."

That's why, when you left for the King's Guard, he was left in despair. Despair caused impulse, and he fell back to his sister.

You did not send any ravens the years you were gone, so you grew apart. Jaime held some resentment too, for the first couple of years when he became a King's Guard, so you grew further apart.

He had his sister now, and she was a jealous woman.

The older you grew, the more you thought of your little youthful escapades as just that, things of the youth, inconsequential to anything else of your now adult existance.

Jaime came around eventually.

He became the better swordsman. He was quite fine with letters, and stronger, taller, more discreet, more dutiful.

You were lovers once more, but only that. This time, you knew how to please a man, but again he was only learning. You pleased each other under the influence of wine, or maybe not. Maybe sometimes your minds were unobstructed, and instead, you were more truthful, softer... and some rare nights, you only talked, you shared heart-to-hearts.

But you weren't friends, not by actions. You did not talk often enough, freely enough, unguarded. You were just lovers.

Regardless, to Jaime, there was great comfort in knowing that you were somewhere in the Red Keep, still there for him, still alive. It was one of the things he fought to remember during his year-long journey back to King's Landing.

When you open your door to leave your chambers, you are quickly pushed back inside.

Jaime's there. He's different, but he's there, and he slams the door behind him. You take it as another moment where he seeks the comfort of your body, especially after what you heard had happened to him. The idea occurs naturally to you, even after a year apart.

You kiss him roughly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, because you've missed him.

Jaime breaths hard into the kiss. He's breathing hard in general, and it's more evident when he pushes you away.

You lose your footing in a daze and land on a chair. It'd be a great position, and you'd be quite excited in anticipation, if it weren't for the look on his face.

"Jaime?"

"You didn't come see me." He says, angrily. His arms are crossed, hands—hand folded over his inner elbow.

Standing before you is a shadow of the man Jaime once was. His hair is shorter, darker, his skin is tanner, he's got dark circles under his eyes. He looks worn.

This is a man who has gone through hell. This is a man going through his second war, a man who was held prisoner for a time, who had to kill his cousin, and who tracked through mud and shit to get back to his home. He was missing a bloody hand!

And you didn't go see him.

"No, I didn't." You sit up quickly, fixing the smirk on your lips to a neutral one. "I thought Cersei would keep you, or that you'd be busy recovering...or that our family would want to see you."

"Cersei saw me." Jaime said pointedly. The next moment, he's climbing onto your lap, bracketing your legs with his. "I saw Joffrey and Tommen. Myrcella is gone, and I just found out. Tyrion had his opportunity. Father wished to do nothing but scold me. I was recovering from my journey in my chambers for three days. You didn't come see me."

"I didn't... and now I see I have no excuse." You keep your eyes on him. Past his heavy lids and dark circles, his eyes are the same as you last saw them, a beautiful green.

"All I could think about was getting back to you." He says through gritted teeth, and though it was a lie, you would believe it. He shifts his hips to rub against your length, a subtle grind.

It loses all subtlety when he continues, over and over. Pleasure rises.

"You are." You say with shaky breaths, heavy enough to mirror his. Your eyes close instinctively, head tilted down to the source of your pleasure.

You haven't had him in a year. You miss him, his body. A brothel whore cannot compare.

"Look at me." His teeth are still gritted. He grasps your face with his hand, squeezing your cheeks in the pull to make you look at him.

"Jaime." You say, acknowledging him, looking at him once more.

He looks angry. It's in his gritted teeth and wide eyes and his heaving chest, it's in his words—but he's not violent, no, never to you.

You kiss him, lick into his mouth to urge his tongue to meet yours. His teeth separate, not with a screeching difficulty, but easily. It's almost familiar, the way his tongue feels against yours, the taste of his saliva.

You have known this man longer than you haven't. Perhaps he is missing a hand, perhaps he is wrinkled and older, but he is still the same man you tousled with in your youth.

You find yourselves eventually on the bed, like you have a hundred times before. You on your back, him on your lap.

Except this time it is not quite as swift, and this time he is struggling with the clasps of your armor.

"Let me."

"No."

You do it anyway. Jaime watches you sit up and he sighs. He thinks of himself as helpless, a mope of a man settled on your lap like a peasant sitting on the Iron Throne.

He sighs out of his nose once more, but to you, he only seems like a sad puppy. "Knights can hardly do this themselves. That's what squires are for. I'm sure you've never heard of a one-handed squire."

"That's not helping." Jaime huffs.

"Look," You say, with all the parts of your chest plate, shoulder parts and neck pieces off. You fix his arms around your neck, "you can still wrap them around here. That's all that matters, hm? All you need is to hold on tight enough."

"Asshole." Jaime says as he pushes you onto your back again, though there's a bit of a lift to his lips.

It's the third time he pushes you. "Pushy."

"Asshole." He repeats.

There's little else to remove after that, just the flowing scales covering your crotch that he removes easily with new determination, and your shin guards, but those won't obstruct the path to your dick.

He undoes the laces of your pants with two harsh tugs and then your cock is free to him. With the way he's looking at it like a meal, you're sure he's missed it.

"Do you still keep oil behind the curtains?" Jaime asks, already reaching behind the canopy's bedpost, where the curtain is usually wrapped securely around the flask.

"No." He looks disappointed then, for a moment. "At least it means I've been loyal to you?"

"It can just as well mean that you've only been visiting brothels." Jaime laughs, leaning his forearms on either side of your head to kiss you before you can protest.

You like this, it's easy; it's carefree and humorous. You can feel his smile against your lips.

He shifts his position to press his ass to your cock and grind against the length of it, swallowing your groan with his lips. You hardly noticed when he tugged off his own pants.

For a moment you think that might be how he gets you off, but then one of his arms leaves the mattress, and his fingers are gathering precum from the tip of your swollen head.

It sacrifices his balance, and you catch him before his full weight falls on you. "Bastard." You breathe out a laugh.

"What?" Jamie returns a grin, though it falls open just slightly when he stretches himself out with your precum as lubrication. Quite the sight.

"One journey from the North to King's Landing on foot, and suddenly you don't care for cleanliness?"

He winces slightly, "One, I was also tricked into drinking horse piss. Two, you're cumming inside sooner or later, it's not very different, is it?"

"One," You mirror with raised eyebrows, "what in the Seven Hells? Two, fair enough."

Holding up his thinner body with one hand is easy enough, and if it weren't, you'd have sacrificed the possibility of him falling onto you for the opportunity to hold his face.

You cup his cheek. In another time, a year ago, your fingernails would've been tickled by boyishly long hair. Now, his hair is only prickly.

"Will you grow it out again?"

Jaime thinks on it. He thinks about how it stuck to his face whenever it was dirty with muck or grime, about how easy it was to tug at his hair, how it was used to tug him backwards into horseshit or some other crazed punishment... but he also thinks about how much you liked it, how you often sweetly pushed it off his forehead when it stuck, how tugging at it did feel good in intimate situations such as this.

"I might." Is what he settles for, and he relishes the sight of your smile.

He's good at prepping himself and keeping a smug face. You've seen it thousands of times before, when he's tired of being ordered around and decided he needed to take control for once. You've seen him the other way around just as many times, quite willing to give up the reigns because he's just so tired.

There's just something about another person's hand.

"Oh..." Jaime moans as you push his hand away and replace his fingers with yours.

Furtheremore, you let him slump forward. You're almost—nay, you are cuddling in this way. Your legs even tangle. You've got him right on top of you, one hand over his back and the other prepping him, letting him just relax.

"That feel good?"

He's practically melting on top of you. It's rather funny how nonchalant he replies with the subtle nod of his head and, "Yeah, uh-huh."

You drag your other hand over his spine and up to hold the back of his head. "Tell me about your journey."

"Okay," He hums pliantly, "Robb Stark captured me in an ambush... which, though it cost me hell, is quite admirable for a boy born after the war. I spent several months travelling behind the army convoys as a prisoner, without a roof, without a floor. Just a stick in the mud and a shitty cage."

He recounts the journey while you prep him languidly like you have all the time in the world.

You don't have all the time in the world. You'll only have tonight, and perhaps the next night, thought it is quite unlikely. Before long, you're sure, Cersei will stop this grudge of hers and Jaime will be gone again, only crawling back after another lovers' quarrel.

"Are you listening?" Jaime suddenly asks, voice rather soft. He looks up at you, beautiful green eyes batting under his eyelashes. Yes, you're looking.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." You say dismissively.

"Hold on a moment."

Jaime sits up to straddle you once more. You watch him go up all the way, eyes locked onto his. He's beautiful; different, worn, but still beautiful.

He shakes his head with a small laugh, "What are you looking at?"

You're so distracted with his face that you don't realize him sliding down onto your cock in one swift motion. "Fuck."

"Fuck is what you're looking at?" Jaime teases.

"Bastard."

"Ah, ah, ah," He tuts his tongue, hand on your abdomen as he rolls his hips. "you already used that one once. Be a little more creative, for once?"

You roll your eyes yet reply anyway, "Dickhead."

Jaime grins, "Better."

You settle a hand on his hip, helping guide his movements as well as make sure he doesn't lose his balance, what with the hand and all. It's... he's probably fine, but you can't help but be cautious.

You wrap your other hand on what remains of his wrist, almost as if to hold his hand. He notices the gesture.

His voice is soft when he says, "As I was saying?"

You nod your head, "As you were saying."

"About losing my hand... suppose I was way in over my head. I'd managed to convince that bastard of a man, Locke to leave lady Brienne untouched. I thought I could convince him to do more, to give me a decent meal and a fire, but instead, he convinced me that he was following along with my orders. Next moment, his men are pinning me down and he cuts my hand off himself. For the next months, he ties the bloody thing around my neck and I can't even take it off."

Grueling business to talk about while he rides you, but you've never held off from venting during these moments. It makes release all the sweeter, releasing your problems as well as your pent up sexual frustrations.

It's soft, all of it. The hand holding, the slow pace and desire to clench around every part of your cock, the eye contact, the easy way he tells you the entire story without sparing details to save his dignity.

"I should've gone after you." You sigh, kissing his bandaged wrist.

"No, you're a King's Guard, not a foot soldier." Jaime shakes his head, heaving a sigh. "You–"

You flip him over easily. "I should've gone after you." You say, and it's almost like you have authority over him, leaning over his body. You do, really, you're in control of your pleasure now.

Speechless, Jaime doesn't fight you. "Yeah."

You start up slow again, but quickly build up in chase of his pleasure. Jaime breathes out a shaky sigh, breaths growing heavier with each thrust.

"I'm sorry for all you've been through," Jaime has half the mind to protest, but you give him a look and continue, "and I wish I could kill every man that wronged you myself. I'm glad for Catelyn Stark, and glad for lady Brienne. I'm also happy that you're back, back to me. Happier than women leaving Maester Pycelle's room."

He wraps his arms around your neck, like you'd showed him earlier, and his legs around your waist. He's holding you close, for comfort, as if to make sure you're really there.

It's silly to do so. You're in front of his very eyes, your cock is fucking him open, and you're very much real.

"I'm happy I'm back with you." He mirrors with a grin, "Happier than even your cock is, I'm sure."

You kiss. No teeth, no tongue, just him and you holding it for as long as possible.

Maybe he will go back to Cersei. You think it almost inevitable; but at least you're sure there's a little part of him that loves you dearly, even if you might never admit it to each other.

For tonight, he's yours.

Yours to lavish, yours to pleasure, yours to fuck.

Yours to love.

[i-cant-sing]

Veiled princess reader and yandere Knight Dabi, sitting on their balcony, wrapped in each others arms as they stare at the moon above them. Your head is on Dabi's chest, your veil cast aside now that you're alone with your husband. Dabi is rubbing your forearms slowly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked. Your eyes met his as you smiled.

He's always able to read your mind.

"Do you believe in God?" You aksed cautiously. Religion was always a sensitive topic for most people.

Dabi exhaled as he pondered over the question. "I didn't used to. I was taught religion as a child, but I never really believed in it. Why would God make me be a "bastard"? But then-" He looked at you. "I met you. And I knew instantly, God existed. There is no chance, no fate, no coincidence that could've made our paths cross. It must be something supernatural for us to meet. And when you took off your veil, I knew only God could've made such perfection. For there is no way, the universe just spontaneously made you. Something Divine must've taken their time to craft you, perfect you, mould you into a little piece of heaven and then for us to be together? Only He could have such power and plans."

He wiped the stray tear from your eye. "I won't say I'm always religious though. I try to remember God as often as I could, but sometimes I get entangled in worldly affairs. Then I'd take one look at you, and I'd remember Him, for He was the one who was benevolent enough to give you to me. Even when I was astray, even when I was sinful, he blessed me with you."

"Dabi~" you whispered. He smiled and kissed your eyes.

"I am ungrateful to Him sometimes. When I don't win the battles, when I don't conquer some land because of traitors, I complain to Him, blame Him when things don't go my way. But everytime I lay my head in your lap and look at your face, I realise how He has already given me paradise in this life alone. I don't need to conquer lands or win gems, for I have the "envy of the Moon" right in my arms." He said as he kissed you, your cheeks wet with your tears.

"I may not get into heaven because of my past sins, my love, but I am forever in His debt for granting me a little piece of heaven on Earth."

[doesthendnlive]

I'm so tired. Sorry for bad grammar or mistakes.

TW for rape/pedophilia/slavery/domestic violence/violence against Indigenous women and girls specifically

It makes me so angry we Sacagawea and "Pocahontas" are known our figure head Native "Women". If you want to go a litter further the fact that "La Malinche" is idolized as well in the same way. But we don't learn about their actual lives.

Why are public schools obessed with these pedophilic relationships between Native girls and old gross ass white males as "The country coming together" or a "unity between 'Indians' and whites'" or "the creation of our mestizo race" or whatever else.

Sacagewa was only 12 when her "husband" bought her, and 16 when he impregnated her. I didn't learn this until I looked it up and searched for it myself.

"Charbonneau was also known for his short temper with his wives. On August 14, 1805, Charbonneau struck Sacagawea during a domestic argument, and was told to stop by Clark. This one incident has led to Charbonneau's reputation as a "wife beater," although it was the only time during the expedition that this type of behavior was noted. Coupled with the rape incident described above, however, Charbonneau seems to have been a sometimes violent person with little regard for women Native girls . His consistent record of marrying Native girls under age 16 also makes one wonder about a possible need to exhibit power over women Native girls

Charbonneau is known to have had a total of five wives, all young Native American women girls whom he married when they were sixteen years old or younger. He may have had more wives who have been lost to the record, however. His last known wife, an Assiniboine girl, was 14 when she married him in 1837; he was more than 70 years old."

Matoaka was even younger if I remember right, the bastardization of her real life story and the fetishization of her story and Native women and girls beause apparently we're all from her people. The fact the "Pocahontas" even exists, the disregard for her actual story and scraping details out to make it more palatable.

Despite the fact the she didn't get to have palatable, she had to endure violence, forced removal, rape, and forced impregnation by her rapist(s). She didn't get to have that comfort or safety but everyone else gets to when 'learning' about her.

"La Malinche" or "Malintzin" (we literally don't know her birth name) was around 11-16 years of age when she ended up on the hands of Spaniards

What makes it worse in regards of "Malintzin" is that Hispanic Males fetishize the "Mestizo race" and the rape of Indigenous women and girls especially to create this race.

They only claim their Indigenous decent when it benefits them, while they are still actively anti Indigenous themselves and hate actual indigenous peoples/communities.

Argentina specifically, it's called chineo, criollo males are known for targeting Indigenous women and girls to rape/gangrape them. It's a old colonial practice that still happens to this day.

Im just so angry that our figure Indigenous "women" are just these little girls adultified into these grown women just to make people less uncomfortable with the power dynamic imbalance and pedophilic relationships and colonialism and colonization in general

Racist white males (Spanish, English, French, whatever flavour of white idc) love this idea of conquering Indigenous women and raping them. I heard way too many gross comments from old white males with rapey undertones to them about them being white and me being a Indigenous girl.

Or even them mocking the sexual violence we face, one of my ex white male friends mocked me for being abused when we got into a argument not related to it at all he also was more and more racist to me as time went on.

In both of the Americas Indigenous people, but especially Indigenous Women and girls aren't safe. It's scary how much violence is forced onto us and how these figure head "Women" are watered down into comfortability for the general public.

The violence we face is pretty much the same in the Americas, and its scary to know we are stuck in places that hate us despite being on our lands in the first place.

all of this but THIS PART ESPECIALLY:

[jacenbren]

My Saiki K headcanons because I can’t think of any other ways to satisfy my hyperfixation rn:

Nendou is fully aware that Saiki has psychic powers but it never crossed his mind that that was weird

Kaidou fucking LOVES magic: the gathering and has one of those books full of cards

He also loves digimon. Aren is a devout pokemon enjoyer. yes they are constantly at each others throats trying to insist that their favorite is better

It took much convincing, but the rest of the gang managed to convince Saiki to join their weekly D&D sessions. Saiki whines and complains every time they drag him there. he then proceeds to have the time of his life every session without fail

Aiura was one of those girls who had a shit ton of Barbie dolls as a kid and sometimes she and Toritsuka get together to play with them (aka act out horrific and violent soap opera scenarios that every child who owned Barbie dolls concocted)

Mera and Nendou bond over their mutual love of food and watch food network cooking contests with the enthusiasm of white suburban dads watching the Superbowl

Nendou regularly picks Saiki up like a sack of potatoes to hug him. Saiki will never admit in a million years that he absolutely loves it

Teruhashi saw that Saiki barely acknowledges her existence and had a realization of “oh wow he isn’t obsessed with me simply because of my looks and treats me like a person rather than some unattainable object of desire I want to spend more time with him because he doesn’t superficially adore me” but she misinterpreted it as a crush and is EXTREMELY confused

Akechi & Saiki = adhd/autistic besties

Nendou & Saiki = also adhd/autistic besties but in like a queerplatonic way????

Saiki won’t admit it but he likes hanging out with Akechi because the guy does all the talking for him and all he has to do is listen

Saiki secretly really likes Hairo because his internal monologue is pretty much the same as how he presents himself to others (Saiki finds Hairo’s sincerity oddly comforting)

Saiki also finds it oddly comforting that he can’t read Nendou’s mind because when spending time alone with him Saiki isn’t constantly bombarded by an internal monologue

Aiura and Saiki casually bully Toritsuka on the regular

“Just get a boyfriend arent you bi” “damn Toritsuka nobody wants you fr”

Kaidou can’t whistle. Aren constantly teases him about it. Kaidou will then attempt to climb his body like a tree and strangle him.

Aiura is a stoner

Saiki is very much affected by weed

Saiki + Aiura’s “special” coffee brownies she made one day and put in the fridge not remembering that Saiki is an utter bastard when it comes to stealing other peoples snacks = utter chaos

Saiko secretly really wants friends but due to his upbringing he doesn’t know how to act around people in lower tax brackets

Saiki sometimes sits next to him at lunch out of pity

Nendou learned how to make coffee jelly after finding out that Saiki loves it

Every year for Saiki’s birthday the gang throws him a surprise party (Saiki is never surprised because of his powers but he’s always so touched by the gesture that he can’t help but play along)

[stellisketches]

why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE

EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy

For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.

"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier

It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it. 

Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.

Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.

"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet

Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.

“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from. 

"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King

God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be. 

Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.

So he leaves. 

Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.

“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”

Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from. 

But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress. 

It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.

But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way. 

‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’

Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau. 

With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe

“Your love is where you breathe.”

He can take his armor off, too.

[liondrakes]

“You Can’t Take Me”: To Be Ontopunk in 2025

by Sivaan of Candlekeep

Blurb: Personal reflections on embracing ontopunk ideologies and practices in the wake of today’s climate. This is my final entry for @who-is-page’s Alterhuman Writing Challenge.

Day 30 of the AHPI Writing Challenge

“Don't judge a thing until you know what's inside it. Don't push me, I'll fight it. Never gonna give in, never gonna give it up, no— if you can't catch a wave, then you're never gonna ride it. You can't come uninvited. Never gonna give in, never gonna give it up, no— You can't take me, I'm free,” Bryan Adams.

Sometimes, I change shape based on my emotions. When I’m aggravated, I don’t become a lion. I don’t become a bear, or a gryphon, or a dragon. I don’t become any predatory species I belong to, contrary to the assumptions tied to those ‘types.

No, I become an oryx. I become a gemsbok, to be exact. My anger doesn’t look like unsheathed claws or gnashing fangs. It looks like a pair of slender, black horns, piercing through flesh. If not that, it’s in the form of an elk. It sounds like a furious, restless bugle that’s a little too close, like whatever’s coming is giving its final warning before it charges.

I am a bull who’s sick and tired, especially with the United States as is. I don’t need to air out the list of reasons why my country’s government is looking to fuck over me and those like me. All of those changes in one day make that evident enough.

However, I will make one thing clear. Politicians hold no authority over my identity. Things are bleak, very bleak, but when haven’t they been that way? I can count the times I’ve truly felt safe in this country on one hand, but that didn’t stop me from putting my foot forward and making the effort to see another day.

As years came and went, I grew more determined in spitting on the image of politicians and billionaires since my country is so adamant about propagating their filth. That included those who bootlick them so much that they forget they too are affected by the class disparity perpetuated between them and their “idols”. Said determination also meant emotionally preparing for outcomes like our recent election. It’s hard to find hope under these circumstances, but that doesn’t mean I can’t inspire hope for myself or those around me who need the support.

When the second inauguration of that bastard and his fraternity of fascists unfolded, all I could think of was a song. It was a short and simple song from my childhood, albeit through a DVD bought by my parents many years after it released. Given the topic of this entry, I’ll admit that it’s not a punk song in terms of genre. It’s a song that came from the animated film Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002). Nonetheless, it still holds so much power to me.

Performed by Bryan Adams, this song, “You Can’t Take Me”, plays as Spirit is dragged to a military encampment where he is expected to become a war horse. Despite how hopeless his situation seems, Spirit himself refuses to give into that hopelessness. He snaps at his captors, fights against their ropes, and digs his hooves into the dirt as the song progresses. Although he made a sacrifice to protect his herd, he is determined to return to them. That means securing his freedom at all costs. “You Can’t Take Me” stresses this in its chorus, but this isn’t the last time that this goal is given focus.

Spirit’s freedom is the heart of the film’s plot. Freedom is also a recurring theme alongside resistance against oppressive systems and solidarity with other marginalized parties. Spirit defends his freedom no matter the circumstance, even when things take a turn for the worst. At the same time, he couldn’t do it alone nor could he abandon those in the same spot as him. Spirit knew a life of exploitation isn’t a life at all, not just in his case but in the case of other captured horses and Little Creek. To me, remembering this song and the context in which it exists may have been coincidences, but they sure were useful coincidences given my position.

Yes, I am angry. I’m not devoid of a conscience, though. I can’t afford to give into hopelessness. No one can. It’s what our pathetic excuse for a government wants, and hopelessness will get us nowhere in the days ahead. Instead, I’m putting that energy into something that will provide better structure to my world view.

Earlier last year, I familiarized myself with two ideologies within the alterhuman community: ontopunk and beastpunk. Both subcultures are alike in their values and practices, but have a set focus at their core. Ontopunk centers radical acceptance of all forms of existence and the autonomy within it, whereas beastpunk centers radical reclamation of nonhuman animal identity. I'm more familiar with the latter of the two since a couple of my friends are beastpunk. That said, I've found myself gravitating more towards ontopunk as a personal ideology.

Ontopunk is often associated with kinpunk, a communal concept that technically predates it. However, I learned recently that the conception of ontopunk and its connection to kinpunk were coincidences. Ontopunk happened to come around the same time as the coining of kinpunk. Created during discussions within the Alt+H Discord server, two terms with similar approaches as kinpunk came to be: alterpunk and ontopunk. From what I could tell, these terms essentially meant the same thing. When kinpunk started floating around on Tumblr, these terms were then suggested as all-inclusive alternatives.

Of the two, ontopunk won out due to its emphasis on being. Since ontopunk’s point of reference is usually a clarification for what the term is and its purpose, I personally go off of Sapphire (@/bigendering)’s proposed outline for alterpunk due to these terms’ shared basis:

Radical acceptance, in which you are what you say you are.

Open exploration of your identity, including exploring and/or supporting affirming practices such as body modification.

Advocacy for the natural world, which includes supporting animal rights and plant/environmental care.

Rejection of anthropocentrism. This includes the idea that people = human, that humans are more important than other life forms, and that humans are better and different than animals in exceptional ways.

Rejection of the idea that the body is the center of identity, that one can have only one identity, and that identity can’t change.

Rejection of the idea that one can't choose one's identity, or that chosen identities are lesser in comparison those that aren’t chosen.

Rejection of intercommunal bias, particularly towards mammals as the nonhuman side of our community contains a vast quantity of mammalian members.

Note: much of this is paraphrased from the original thread covering alterpunk / ontopunk. The original thread is linked in the passage that first mentions ontopunk and beastpunk.

With this considered, ontopunk isn’t exclusive to alterhumans either. It’s open to all. Whether inside or outside of this community, it’s about embracing all who express themselves how they see fit.

Furthermore, there’s the nuances of being besides oneself to acknowledge. Ontopunk isn’t only for those who actively define their own means of being but those who’re treated as if they have no perceivable sense of being as well. Mord (@/vagabondsun) quoted itself on how ontopunk could be applied in this context:

“vagabondsun (77): [...] i think a line in there about like, acknowledging the... not ‘personhood' exactly, but the sovreignity of inanimate objects? I...] especially if we're alluding to ontology, like, object oriented ontology is a philosophical theory that exists which rejects anthropocentrism by saying that all entities, including inanimate objects and concepts, have some kind of (in very simplified and not-quite-accurate terms) a subjective awareness.”

This caught my eye as someone who’s *multiposic (aniposic and psyposic, to be exact). For the objects in my day-to-day life, my relationship with them is usually platonic or familial in nature. Although I don’t always talk to them, I know that they coexist alongside me and are close to me as individuals. I appreciated this approach from Mord since not everyone considers the presence of objects and concepts in these conversations.

*Multiposic refers to an individual who is POSIC+ for multiple reasons; the following two labels are why I’m POSIC+. Aniposic refers to an individual who is POSIC+ due to being a practicing animist. Psyposic refers to an individual who is POSIC+ due to psychological reasons but either chooses not to disclose why or does not know why.

Aside from those details, I thought of my own sense of being. Here are some examples:

I am not from this dimension, at least not originally. Many versions of me exist across different points in my dimension of origin.

I see myself as a scholar, a quest guide and a figure akin to a wise serpent through my archetropy.

I am transspecies. I experience having multiple forms outside of the human body I occupy, specifically through phantom bodies.

I am a fictional character and creature. I hold connections to other fictional beings through soulbonding.

I am also a creature with earthen connections, be it through my experiences with earthen animality or earthen mythology.

I am an agnostic animist. In my opinion, the existence of deities and other manners of higher powers exist solely through the practitioner in question. The act of belief is what makes these figures real; otherwise, all other means of their existence can neither be proven nor disproven.

That said, I believe objects and concepts have their own form of sentience. Lack of verbal, expressive and overall physical communication does not rule out the possibility of said sentience.

I am many, many things that question the boundaries of being as proposed by the society I currently live in. If I said I was any of these truths aloud, I would be given a sideways glance by your average citizen in the United States. I don’t particularly care about that result, so long as I am in the right company. Most of them believe one inconceivable, all-powerful spirit of a man created the pots we piss in, and also use him as an excuse to condemn my existence, but you don’t see me casting judgment upon the possibility of said spirit’s existence or the beliefs inspired by him. The problem is when people fully believe their way of being is superior to others or that someone else’s way of being is weird, questionable, or generally “wrong” when it doesn’t harm anyone.

Perhaps, that’s why I gravitate towards ontopunk ideologies so much. The very margins of how I perceive my existence, the existence of others and the worlds surrounding us challenges those norms. It doesn’t stop at my alterhumanity. It extends into my relationship with my environment and my day-to-day life. It includes how I envision not only my existence in this world, but how I envision the existence of all things. It is thoroughly, unapologetically about embracing what it means to be anything.

So why not embrace all of me? Why not wear that on my sleeve, defying the “policies” proposed by those who aim to destroy people like me? You can’t put a law on existence. Damn them all if they do. I’ll continue to take heed of existence and the autonomy it provides.

Everyone is deserving of ontological freedom. As the coiners addressed before, ontological freedom isn’t exclusive to us alterhumans either. We share many of those freedoms with orthohumans and non-sapient beings simply by existing alongside each other. Hell, I insist that we assert our ontological freedoms even more.

Self-denial has held me back in my past, but I refuse to let it cage me in the future. I will lock my horns together and wrestle hatred to the ground. I will pierce the throats of fear and compliance until my dominance is made clear. I will drive them from my home, from those I share space with and from myself above all else.

I will still be here, and I will continue to be who I am. That is what being ontopunk means to me, especially at the start of this year.

Come what may. Know that I am free.

[stepmarchen]

Analyzing Shuri and Lucas' Relationship

Mostly a Lucas rant because he's one of my favorite characters (even though we love to hate this bastard)

spoilers up to Ch. 126

Despite our not so lovely introduction to Lucas' character in the early chapters of the manhwa, It's so interesting how Lucas' villainy took a complex route in later chapters and the role his strengths and weaknesses play to Shuri's misfortune and favor.

Shuri often recounts memories of Lucas during their childhood in Bretten and we get an inside look on the person he is inside.

"Lucas Ighofer, my brother... He thought I was slow and dull-witted because I didn't know how to be tough... but he would also sometimes step in like an older brother in front of the rough neighbors. Whenever that happened... He made me think that maybe some things would go his way."

- Shuri, Ch. 125

He wasn't exactly "nice" but the two relied on one another in that way that only siblings would relate to. While he totally belittled her, Lucas also trusted Shuri with his earnings, the code to his safe, and defended Shuri like a true big brother.

In a way, I think it's actually thanks to Lucas that Shuri also dreamt of a better life. We see this in the way she seems to remember him in a positive light (literally basked in warm light). There's also major significance in how her core memories of him are usually about his hopes and dreams, as opposed to say, his gambling habits or laziness.

Shuri could've had the same humble dreams as her bff Anna but I think she looked up to Lucas, who was the only real role model in her early life.

The main difference between the two was the vehicles in which they took towards their shared goal. Shuri planned a more earnest living, selling crops for a chicken, and the eggs for a pig, and so forth. Meanwhile, Lucas made bets, resulting in quick and large sums of cash while simultaneously losing it all in the process.

Lucas knows exactly how corrupt the world can be and he's fully willing to go down with it. It's just unfortunate that he's also willing to drag down Shuri along with him.

In the end, Shuri got an involuntary ride to the top of the food chain and Lucas... climbed his way to the capital... eventually.

Now let's talk briefly interlude about Lucas' time in the capital.

While he's a selfish mf that tried to extort his own baby sister (multiple times), he is also one of the most motivated characters in the series, even to the point where he becomes a pest. He'll take all the shortcuts he can take, but if it doesn't work out, he's not totally unwilling to take the long and hard route. In their first on-page meeting, Shuri calls out Lucas for lying about starving for 4 days. But this is never actually confirmed. I want to say that it's pretty likely that he really was starving. Now, the reason why? Proooobably because he gambled away his food money.

Anyway, back on topic.

Eventually, Lucas does make it and opens the Sheiss Gambling House at the call of Cardinal Meissner.

"He used other people's weaknesses for his own selfish interests... yet despised being exploited himself. He, more than anyone... wanted to live a life where he could use others."

- Shuri, Ch. 125

The thing about Lucas is that he's also one of the smarter characters as well. His outer farce makes him seem like a small threat, but he singlehandedly started the gears for the upcoming Holy War.

Think about it. He somehow gathered tons of blackmail on the church because he disliked the idea of being used by Cardinal Meissner over his Gambling Business. Blackmail that at this point, only an insider (with access to secret tunnels in the Vatican) like Richelieu had privvy to. We don't know exactly how Lucas gathered this material... but the fact that he did makes him a pretty big threat.

Which is exactly why the church captured him.

And it's only thanks to years of growing up side by side together that Shuri knew her brother well enough to know that the blackmail existed and where/how to retrieve it.

The only concern now is that Lucas may have also given the Church vital information regarding Shuri. And we don't know what he disclosed.

At this point, we know that Shuri still has some lingering sisterly love for Lucas, but it's unconfirmed whether Lucas feels the same way. Lucas is an asshole but I would like to think that in his final moments, Lucas would still protect Shuri like he did years ago.

In the end, Shuri outgrew her "dim-witted" nature and took advantage of the information waiting in her lap. She evolved past Lucas' shadow used his brains to her advantage. But she never used anything against him. Even in the bitter end, she tried to save him. And he ended up killing himself.

[askthefivefallen]

Failure to Communicate

Righty blinked.

In her existence, she’d had a lot of interesting experiences. The Exterminations, Falling, working at the hotel- not unique, but interesting.

However, she was almost certain no Exorcist angel had ever been thrown through an infernal portal conjured by an Ars Goetia.

Until her, anyway.

“Uh… okay… guess that was a long shot anyway.” Righty picked herself up off the ground and dusted off her hotel uniform. “Where’d that bastard send me, anyway?”

Righty had seen a lot of Hell by this point. More than when the Exterminations were happening, anyway- she’d been to other Rings, she’d ridden the elevator a few times, all that- but she didn’t recognize the shadowy, fog filled field she seemed to be. Actually, could it even be a field if there was nothing but dirt and rocks? Lefty would probably know.

She spread her wings, intending to fly up and get a better look… but every time she flapped them… nothing… happened? She couldn’t get off the ground. She couldn’t fly, as if something was keeping her in place. But infernal magic couldn’t do that, she was pretty sure; Angel Dust had tested if they could break handcuffs and other restraints their first week working at the hotel for reasons he refused to elaborate on but she suspected were tied to Vaggie’s yelling a few days later.

Which… would imply there’s some… Holy power at work… but where could an Ars Goetia send her that would be under Heaven’s-

“Oh… no… am I in Purgatory? That place actually exists!?” Righty groaned, stamping her foot. “Why? Why here? How the fuck do I get out of-”

From behind, she was tackled to the ground, and she turned ready to shout but a hand covered her mouth as a face appeared over her.

Another Exorcist, still in her black and silver uniform, orange eyes blazing with a long burning fury that pinned her in place. Just beyond orange and brown hair, Righty spotted something truly horrifying flying above- four wings but eyeless, with long pikes clenched in demonic claws, and open jaws filled with serrated teeth. Lesser Dominions, those who could only hear, and listened to purge the souls trapped in Purgatory.

It flew over them, seeking its next target, and the Exorcist above her watched it fly away before glaring and letting her up.

“Thanks,” Righty said, her voice far softer as she pushed herself up and dusted herself off. So much for her one claim to uniqueness. “What’s an Exorcist doing down here?” The question sparks nothing from the other Exorcist. “Um, okay, maybe that’s a touchy subject. Well… uh… my name’s Righty. What’s yours?” Nothing- and now she was walking away. “Wait!”

The moment Righty grabbed her, the Exorcist reacted, and Righty did as well, summoning her halberd to her hand to block… the… fist?

Her brows furrowed while the other’s shot up in surprise. “Where’s your weapon?”

The Exorcist backs away and tilts her head, pointing to her ear.

“You can’t hear me?” Righty presses her lips into a thin line. “I don’t remember that being a rule of Purgatory- oh! Are you deaf?”

After saying the word, Righty remembered that she is, as Lefty often put it, a bit dumb sometimes.

Thinking quickly, she used the butt of her halberd to scratch into the dirt at their feet.

‘Deaf?’

The Exorcist read the word- upside down, because Righty didn’t think that far ahead- and nodded.

Righty smiled. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” She quickly wiped the word away with her shoe and scratched out another word.

‘Name?’

She then pointed at herself and shook her right hand while speaking slowly. “Righty. My name is Righty.”

The flat look she received in response seemed to convey that speaking slowly wasn’t helping. However, the Exorcist motioned for her halberd and Righty handed it over, watching as she scratched out her name.

‘Rin.’

“Rin.” Righty nodded, then looked up to see Rin cross two fingers, then extend her pinky, then loop her two fingers over her thumb. Three hand gestures, three… letters? Was that how to spell her name? Righty raised her left hand and mimicked the motions, much to Rin’s surprise. “Like that?”

Rin tilted her head, her lips curling slightly. She did the motions again, then capped it off by crossing her fingers and moving her hand like… a sword? No, wait- if the other gestures were letters, maybe this was… pronouncing the word?

‘R-I-N, Rin?’

Rin nodded. She did only the gesture and pointed towards Rin and received a nod in response.

“Okay, so I know how to say… er, well… I’ve got your name.” Righty once again resorted to drawing in the dirt. ��Out?’

Rin shook her head, looking crestfallen.

“Yeah, I figured.” Righty sighed, looking around… but there was nothing to see. So… they had time. 

‘Teach?’

Rin raised a brow, and only then did Righty really adjust to being in Purgatory enough to notice the scars on her face. She’d either had to fight one of the Dominions or… that was from before…

Righty pointed at Rin, then at her own ear. She did the signs for Rin’s name, then wrote her own name in the dirt and pointed to it.

Rin rolled her eyes and turned as if to leave but stopped a few steps away, shoulders falling as she turned back. One of Rin’s wings extended and, for all the time Righty had been gone from Heaven, her stripes remained. While nothing else about them might be the same, their wings were similar enough that Rin turned back, tapped her foot against the ‘g’ in Righty’s name, and made a sign with her hand.

Righty smiled.

Now, they were really getting somewhere!

—

Time didn’t really exist in Purgatory. There was no day or night, just a persistent gray miasma that weighed everything down. After hours of learning how to do the hand language, they started walking. The direction didn’t seem to matter as their footing never seemed to change, just the desolate wasteland of Purgatory. In the distance, Righty could hear others lamenting their fate and the rush of Dominion wings hunting them down, silencing them. There were others in the fog, quieter, but still holding out hope that it might end.

Righty felt bad for them… Purgatory was supposed to have an end point but, after the Exterminations started, Heaven had closed the path up the mountain and shrouded the whole of it in fog. There was no salvation awaiting them. Hope and faith could not save them.

Rin, of course, couldn’t hear them, but she could see their shadows in the fog and steered clear of them. It made sense. They didn’t really resemble the Dominions but mortals would see wings and jump to conclusions. Rin probably would’ve avoided Righty if there hadn’t been imminent danger, and the way the Exorcist tensed, as if she could sense the Dominions’ approach… she’d been there for a long time.

They walked until they were tired, then sat and Righty learned some more. Hunger and thirst weren’t much of a concern but sleep was- at least, for Righty. Rin seemed content to sit, hunched over, and just rest.

Well… none of that.

Righty waved to get Rin’s attention. ‘Down.’

‘What?’

‘Down.’ She didn’t know the word for sleep, so she spelled it. ‘S-L-E-E-P.’

Rin shook her head.

‘N-O T-R-U-S-T?’

‘Yes.’ Righty huffed out a breath and got to her feet. ‘What?’

Righty explained, brokenly, that she’d remain standing until Rin laid down, to which the Exorcist shrugged and acted as if she didn’t care.

So there Righty stood for a few hours, at least, before Rin became frustrated enough to lie down on her back, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at Righty. Righty smiled and sat down, laying the shaft of her halberd across her lap. ‘Me, F-I-R-S-T W-A-T-C-H.’

‘You S-U-C-K.’

Righty stuck out her tongue and Rin rolled her eyes. Little did Rin know, Righty had experience dealing with Ass’ stubbornness, but the cantankerous Fallen had one really solid point: when they were all they had left, it meant they had to stick together. There was no escaping Purgatory. So, for all intents and purposes, it was just her and Rin. They had to take care of each other.

After about ten minutes of glaring, Rin had resigned herself to the situation enough to fall into a short but deep sleep.

Interestingly, she snored. Righty thought it was kinda cute.

—

It took a few nights for the exhaustion to wear off enough that Righty understood why Rin had refused to sleep. Nightmares plagued her, left her gasping and watching with a silent cry on her lips and tears in her eyes. Whatever had caused her to be sent to this place, the wounds were not visible but they were deep. 

Righty felt for her. At least through all the things she’d experienced, she had Lefty at her side. Sure, she was around less after getting together with Tits, and that was… an adjustment, at first. But, still, she had someone. Rin had been alone for so long.

They walked in the same direction every day. Rin eventually explained she wasn’t looking for an exit- she knew none existed- but sitting still would drive them both crazy. They were Exorcists, hunters of Sinners- they were meant to be restless and persistent. So, they walked.

Rin didn’t seem to like talking about her existence prior to Purgatory and Righty didn’t exactly have the vocabulary… but she tried. She explained the hotel, the other Fallen, some of their hijinks; she learned how to ‘say’ their names. Junior got a ‘J’ with both hands, kinda, but it was mixed with the word ‘change’. Lefty got ‘knowledge’ that then formed a ‘L’. Tits was a ‘T’ combined with ‘happy’. Ass got ‘A’ and ‘fight’. The one for Righty, she couldn’t really figure out; it was ‘R’ that Rin shook from her head. She refused to elaborate and Righty accepted it.

But what Rin didn’t tell her, Righty learned in other ways. Deaf she might be, Rin was still an Exorcist with the senses and skills of a trained huntress. She remained calm and poised throughout everything. There was never fear in those blazing orange eyes but just anger, burning just as hot as it had when they first met. Righty never got the sense Rin was mad at her- just… mad at being there, probably.

Honestly? Fair.

—

Righty had first watch again. Rin was beginning to stir from nightmares. She probably shouldn’t but… Righty moved quickly to Rin’s side and put a hand, gently on her shoulder- just to try and reassure her, maybe soothe her back to sleep. Rin leaned her head towards Righty’s hand in her sleep, as if needing the comfort…

She didn’t really… get it, when Lefty talked about Tits. She didn’t understand why Ass would risk her actual fucking existence for a joke. When her heart skipped a beat, though… she got it. She understood why Lefty got so flustered, why Ass faced down Sera’s wrath. Her lips lifted into a smile and she moved her hand to, very carefully, cup Rin’s cheek, avoiding her scars and just soothing her back into slumber.

It was probably stupid of her to think it… but Purgatory might be worth this feeling.

—

Maybe it was just wearing her down or some good, nightmare-less ‘nights’, but Rin started to loosen up a little. She smiled a bit when Righty got through a whole story without having to spell out any words. She even laughed!

Righty wished the others could meet her. Tits would love to learn how to do the hand language and Lefty would find it stimulating. Junior got along with just about everyone. Even Ass, if she’d made it back to Hell, would have a blast learning a new way to curse.

Little daydreams like that got her through the monotony of just… walking. She’d never walked this much before. Even around the hotel, she usually found an excuse to use her wings at least a little bit.

She also found herself wondering if she should say anything… it wasn’t like they were pressed for time. They had all eternity. She could wait.

Honestly, she probably should.

Righty heard the wings first and quickly put her halberd out, signaling to Rin for both of them to kneel down as a Dominion passed overhead.

Rin smiled at her and nodded. ‘Good job.’

She smiled wide in return.

Fuck, she really wouldn’t last long, would she?

—

They sat side-by-side, preparing to get through another ‘day’ of walking. Righty cleared her throat. “You know… I really like you.”

From the corner of her eye, she could tell Rin wasn’t paying her much attention. She couldn’t hear Righty. So, no risk.

“And… it’s weird because I’ve never felt like this before… I thought I was happy just having friends but… I get it now. What love feels like. So… if nothing else, thank you for… being my first love.”

Rin blinked and turned towards her, brows furrowed. ‘What?’

Righty smiled in response. ‘Thinking out loud.’

Rin drew back and raised a brow. ‘You can think?’

Righty shoved at her shoulder, laughing, and saw the laughter in Rin’s eyes matching her.

—

They were walking again, of course, when she suddenly felt a… tug… and stopped.

Rin stopped, too, looking at her with a questioning tilt to her head.

Righty shrugged- then was tugged again, backwards, stumbling a step.

In that moment, for the first time, she saw fear in Rin’s eyes. ‘Rin-’

A portal ripped open behind her and black talons sunk into her. Righty dropped her halberd to reach out for Rin even as the Exorcist tried to grab her- but too late. She was ripped backwards through the portal…

… and into the hotel lobby.

“Righty!” Lefty and Tits spoke in unison, Tits offering her a hand up while Lefty dropped down beside her.

‘Send me back!’ Both of them just stared at her. Right, they can hear her. “Send me back!”

“Absolutely not.” She twisted around, watching as Prince Stolas shook his head. “Opening a portal to Purgatory puts all of Hell at risk. If one of those Dominions gets loose, it will be pandemonium!”

“Okay, then go back and grab Rin!”

Owlish features furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“She’s another Exorcist- she’s down there and-”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I was only able to get you back because you are not marked for Purgatory. I can’t yank any soul from that dreary place. Lucifer might have that power but I doubt it.”

“Wait, there was another Exorcist there?” Lefty put a hand on Righty’s shoulder. “A Fallen?”

“N-no.”

“Ah, then, yes, she would be far beyond my power to… save.” Prince Stolas bowed his head, truly contrite. “I’m dreadfully sorry, my dear.”

“But… Rin… she’s still there…” Righty looked between the three of them… but to no avail. “No…”

Lefty pulled her into a hug as she started to cry, and Tits joined them. For the first time since Falling, she truly feels like she’s in Hell.

((@lost-rin))

[psyduc]

i was tagged! at some point!! by i believe @tjarry and @muppetjohntavares and maybe another person idk!! for the hockey player wrap thing and it's the Last Day Of The Year and i wanna do it before i forget again!!!!! this list should. surprise none of u imma be so real.

(i'm putting this under a cut because oh no i rambled didn't i)

ONE) matthew tkachuk he's my pfp. on discord i am in a few different servers as either "rat boy lover" or "matthew tkachuk girlie". he has bewitched me mind body and soul. i think in like.. february(?) i saw a photo set of him and his eyelashes and went now hold on a second, i think this is the hockey boy for me. i adore him so much and am constantly annoying my besties by talking about him So Damn Much Yall. he's a rat bastard and a great player and a sweetheart and a pest and he lives rent free in so many people's heads, both in a positive and negative way, and i am just completely captivated. remember when the cats won the conference finals and in the final seconds of the game, he was leaping for joy on the ice like an over excited kid??? i love him. ur honor? i love him so fucking much.

TWO) kris letang gateway player that got me back into hockey tbqh. tumblr user charlie tjarry showed me a picture and Immediately got my attention- picture a dog perking up at hearing a squeaky toy. that was me. sometimes i remember that kris letang exists like, out in the world, in real life, and i just have to sit down and sigh dreamily about it. i love his cool hot bitch persona and how he's actually really a fucking freak (the bug halloween costume. his dislike of sandwiches? his cat like tendencies). he's perfect when he's fucking up on ice and scoring own goals and he's perfect when he's fucking crushing it and breaking records. kris letang u truly are a legend

THREE) brandon duhaime i didn't really know this man existed until i logged on one day and saw that my dash was in flames because he got traded away from his family and boyfriend the wild. like a baby duck imprinting on the first person it sees, i was smitten Immediately. he barks! he gets into fights and loses! he screeches on the bench! he cracks coconuts open with his bare hands like some sort of floridian cave man!!! i'm so very very happy he's enjoying his time in washington and is surrounded by other freaks who adore and cherish him. it's what my sweet sad beautiful cringe son deserves

FOUR) pierre-luc dubois back when i was first getting into hockey, i saw a gifset of this man and immediately yelled at my hockey friends because how dare they not tell me that he Existed. he's always been in the back burner of my mind but only recently (when he got traded to the caps because. ya know. see above) have i done a deep dive into one mister pld and man i just. love him. skittish horse of a man. he's such a goofball actually and i love how he sets up plays for other people and like my beloved dew, i am so glad that he has found someplace that cherishes him. i hope washington is his forever home, i really, really do. also did yall know he has a bulldog named chowder. this is important information to me and i needed to share

FIVE) evgeni malkin i just love geno. so much. my first jersey was actually his breakaway jersey!!!! i just think he's really neat- i don't have as much of a like... "must study him under a microscope" urge like the other four boys listed here but i would kill for geno, if he asked. i don't think he would but like ya know, the option's there if he ever needs it ig. he's so fun to watch when he plays and i love how sometimes he's so on point and is this giant, insane machine of a man, and other times he decides that he doesn't want to play hockey while in the middle of actively playing hockey. we have to respect it.

i think i'm supposed to tag people but i do believe most of yall have done this already so ! idk. u can do it if u want, be free, make ur own choices

[noirvette]

WE NEVER EXISTED

[band smau]

[FOURTEEN]

masterlist.

prev. | next.

extra.

note: the black italics is Michael singing. The lyrics aren't in order though haha

"You guys out there don't mind if we play a cover right?" Michael calls out to the crowd. The crowd responds with loud cheers.

The guitar strum of 'Black Hole Sun' by Soundgarden starts to fall over the crowd's ears. The crowd cheers in delight at the prospect of this particular cover. From the sidelines as you watch the band; Graveyard Soldiers, your openers for the night play, you couldn't help but get into the groove of Michael's captivating voice.

"In my eyes"

Michael, last name unknown, he keeps it mysterious like that; is the band's front line singer, and electric guitarist. Last member, and from what Kyle told you was the whole reason this band (Graveyard Soldiers, not your band) nearly didn't happen.

"In disguises no one knows"

Pete Thelman, back up singer and plays the bass guitar, you and him had a fun time talking about what were the best bass guitarists of all time earlier. Second member, he was awkward, but overall a refreshing person to talk too.

"Lies the snake"

Henrietta Biggle, lead guitarist and sometimes keyboardist. She kept to herself mainly, but loved to talk to about music with you and Nichole. First member, she started this band to raise money to help find her missing brother. You remember the day he went missing, your band even helped pitch in with money before.

"Boiling heat.. summer stench"

Firkle Smith, drummer; absolute menace. He was scary, intimidating in a way you'd never thought was possible. He was nice, polite when needing to be but you know what they say about how the eyes are windows to the soul... He was the third member to join.

"Call my name"

From the corner of your eye you can spot Kyle walking over towards you, "They're good yeah?" He tilts his head towards the Graveyard Soldiers.

"Yeah! I'm really loving their style, I've heard their eps and now that they got an album, I'm excited to listen to more of their stuff." You gush.

"And I'll hear you scream again."

Kyle hums and you see his face become more serious, "Stan told me that Cartman's worming his way into causing havoc for you, that true Y/n?"

"Won't you come?"

Sighing, you look away from him and back towards the stage, "I really don't know. Cartman's never really interacted with me too much before, now he's tagging me in an update about his podcast? He even called me like four days ago. I'm sure it was a misclick, considering I say his name pop up for maybe three seconds before it disappeared."

"Cold and damp"

"God I hate him so much. You'd think he'd leave us alone, but he uses our band as a way to gather more fame for himself. Miserable bastard."

"For honest men"

You've never really seen Kyle badmouth anyone, sure for Cartman it's warranted and you've heard of the weird friendship they used to have, before it fell apart suddenly in high school. However it's still a bit surprising to you, seeing as Kyle makes it a point to be amicable towards everyone, even if he's not the biggest fan of them.

"In my youth, I pray to keep"

"It's fine, Kyle. He's a dickhead sure and he's the world's biggest attention seeker but that's all he really is. An attention seeker. No matter what he's going to do tonight, I'm not letting his bad mood ruin one of our best nights."

Kyle sets his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, "If he continuously causes trouble for you, let me know. You've helped me out a lot Y/n, let me return the favor. Besides, beating up Cartman is an easy task, it's refreshing seeing him get knocked down a peg."

"No one sings like you anymore...

Black hole sun"

Kyle removes his hand from your shoulder and you can still feel the warmth of his hand. "Thanks Ky, I doubt I'll need you to go extreme like that but if he becomes an even bigger thorn in my side, you'll be the first to know."

"And wash away the rain"

A bemused smirk dawns Kyle's face, "First? To know? Over Nichole?"

You chuckle, "Okayyy.. so maybe not the exact first, but it's the thought that counts? Right?"

"Won't you come?"

"Yeah, maybe when you're not lying.. miss L/n," Kyle teases,.

Your face holds one of mock annoyance as Kyle teases you and as Graveyard Soldiers do the instrumental part of the song you and Kyle just stand there, looking at each other.

"Hang my head... drown my fear... till you all just disappear"

"They're ending soon, make sure to do your last tune in." Kyle softly says.

"Won't you come"

"Got it captain!" You head further in towards the back to quick test your guitars, leaving Kyle to himself.

"And wash away the rain?"

Kyle turns to the band performing as Michael repeats the last lines of the post chorus.

You had decided to not bother checking twitter nor Cartman's podcast episode during the set change, the whole band decided against it, not for a lack of curiosity, but considering set changes were so hectic. You were curious, the nausea feeling of not knowing the answer to any form of a question of "why" eating at you.

You weren't even sure if Cartman had gone live, you doubted it, the crowd was just having a fun time talking to each other from what you saw when you peeked around the curtains earlier. Some people were on there phones but you doubt it was for Cartman.

In all honesty, you didn't need the stress of Cartman in your mind. What you needed was to give South Park the best god damn show you've ever done. You've grown a lot since your last big performance here, hell the whole band has grown.

So instead of giving Cartman another thought, you focused your mind on the set change.

Set changes were annoying, it's why Clyde actually hated having opening bands or opening for other bands like you have done in the past. Of course, opening bands were good in your eyes, it paved the way to allowing the crowd to experience new bands or genres.

"Dude, where did you put my drumsticks?" Clyde asked one of the stage workers in passing.

"Clyde. They're on your seat on stage." The worker replied, you could hear the disbelief in their tone. You couldn't help but feel bad for them.

With that, the worker left and Clyde was standing there like an idiot, but he was your guys' idiot and you had to let him do his own thing.

However, Clyde had a point to complain, the backstage workers going insane as they try and get everything put together properly did take a toll on you even. The quick instrument check before they were put up on the stage by the stage crew. Lights crew making sure they'd have no problem.

You could see Craig was munching on some crackers, having the time of his life knowing all he had to do was go on stage and take pictures of the band and the crowd and then call it a night.

Beside him, Nichole was going insane on making sure the stage looked absolutely perfect even though it'd be too late to change anything right now.

"Y/n! You don't think the stage is ugly right? I've been staring at this one sheer cloth placement that Craig took a pic for me, bless him, anyhow for like twenty minutes. It just looks off to me." Nichole rushed over to you, a picture on her phone that Craig took.

You look down at the picture, "Nicky.. the cloth is fine, besides Craig took the photo at angle look," You gently grabbed her phone and tilted it to the right, that way the picture was centered.

"Oh thank you, I was nervous that it was off center this entire time, I was about to jump on stage to fix it. Good thing I didn't it was just Craig's poor photography skills."

Craig looked at the two of you with a pointed look of "What the fuck" written all over his face; "You know, how about you guys find a NEW photographer then."

"Nooooo! Craig I'm sorryyyyyy." Nichole drawled. And the two started going back and forth.

Kyle looking lost as he ran out of things to do but you could see stress and worry marks all over his face as he ran through every scenario in which the band suddenly had the worst experience performing. Stan not caring about anything, he was really just taking in everything while he was doing last minute vocal warm ups.

You hadn't bothered to say anything to Kyle as he was trying to do something; not because you didn't want to but because you're not even sure Kyle would hear you. Whenever he got into this stressed manager mode (or as Clyde would call it; normal Kyle Broflovski), he tended to tune people out.

Tweek was playing with Craig's camera, or.. a spare. You doubt Craig would ever let Tweek handle his camera. There were three things Craig loved in the world; Tweek, his guinea pigs, and his camera.. but no matter how much Craig loved Tweek that camera did cost a whole lot.. and it was Craig's profession.

The lights were dimming out.. which meant go time. Everyone else paused and got into show business mode. You shook the nerves out of your body. No matter how many performances you did, you doubt that you'd ever go on stage without some sort of performance anxiety.

"Good luck guys! Have fun out there!" You hear Kyle call out as you all start to head out onto stage.

"You too!" Clyde responds before smacking his forehead with his hand.

From the podcast studio, Cartman and Heidi go live.

TAGLIST: @captivq @kimiesstuff @bwljules @the-cooler-kira @1one1person1 @kenny-the-ken @neenieweenie @n0tangeliccc @frogindisguise @revzxn @mirophobic @gonefiishiing @musiclovebot @bootsieboo @bonez4brainz @s0l4riss @1996kj @sweetadonisbutbetter @scinclaitnoir @okarigold

[seirooo0]

Rui lacks in content so much I'm gonna strt crying, anyways take this rui x reader I made out of desperation for rui oneshots

words: 2,806 💀

plot: u sick as fuck and rui takes care of you

gn reader, use of you/your pronouns, also established relationship

What a great day it was for you— was something you wish you could've said but unfortunately, "sick days" exist (you probably forgot about them with how "healthy" you are). Spending the day doing nothing but dreading the headaches and the pain of being sick, maybe you're too dramatic that you'd fit in a theatrical scene but this is what it felt like for you. How long has it been since you last fell ill? It felt like a millennial or it's an exaggeration.

You wouldn't mind having such a day today, but it's so damn boring for you. Nothing to do all day other than resting and eating and resting, or perhaps you're into that if you're such a lazy guy. But anyone with shame in themselves wouldn't use this excuse to skip school, you're not an asshole after all. Clearly, you're worried about what's happening at school right now. Given that you had a test today, but your mother seemed persistent to make you stay in bed. Quite annoying, but it's the motherly nature in her, you can't blame her at all for worrying. Looking dully at the ticking clock, you wondered; how many hours had passed by now? With nothing to do, no sort of entertainment (you chose not to use your phone for health's sake), and you're just literally laying in bed like some sort of corpse in a coffin; motionless as hell.

And either your mom was so nosy that she had to call your boyfriend (weirdly enough, can't she just call dad or you're dadless (I'm sorry)) or one of your friends noticed that you weren't around so they called Rui in to visit you. But right now, all you know is that the purple male is right in front of you, cooking something in the kitchen. You had to drag yourself out of bed just to see who the hell entered, you would've freaked out but then you remembered your mother probably gave him the spare keys that you were looking for for the past 3 months. Standing behind him, you covered yourself in your blanket as if you're freezing to death, and you wondered if it's even enough to warm you up despite the scorching weather outside right now. Rui felt your presence almost immediately by the time you entered, and on his face he wore his signature cat-like grin (something that you always wondered; is he some sort of cat reincarnation or what) "You're awake, or perhaps you weren't sleeping at all? I heard you were sick today, so I came here just to watch over you, dear." He said, and despite his little cat-like grin, you can tell he's worried about you. "And which bastard?" "Don't call Tsukasa a bastard! Do you want me to snitch on you?" He replied with a laugh, honestly, it doesn't make a difference. You kind of wished Tsukasa pretended you existed in school today, but with how much you two hung out together you figured that won't be the case. "What about classes?" "Oh, don't worry about that, worry about yourself first." With his simple retort, you figured he might've skipped classes today just to tend you. You feel a little guilty now, but sometimes you're an ass. You kinda don't care about that, at least he's spoiling you (no shame at all, it seems). Maybe sick days aren't as bad as you thought.

"Come on now, standing up won't do at all." He said, and clearly you could feel some sort of evil teasing intent. And surely enough, without warning he lifted you up as if you're a small little thing (with his height, it's almost impossible you're not at least a few centimeters smaller than him unless) and what's worse, it's bridal style. Anyone who has no idea that you two are in highschool would mistake you two for an old married couple but Rui's uniform is still on, so that's a given. "H-Hey!" "Don't squirm around now, or else I might drop you!" The male laid you down on the sofa, which is fortunately comfortable enough to lay down on. You watched as Rui fixed the blanket for you, neatly covering you up like some sort of delicate, beautiful thing. "Now then… Hmm.. I'm less experienced with these types of things, but I assure you I'll take care of you, okay dear?" You feared he may blow up your kitchen with his limited culinary skills and with how experimental he tends to be, but right now he looks promising. You simply nodded your head, giving him a soft smile that would easily melt his heart but of course, this is Rui. You wished you would've seen him blushing a little more though. "Yeah, but isn't carrying me a little too much? I can walk, mind you." "Fufu~ I just wanted to be as close to you as possible. is that the answer you're looking for?" And like the usual you, his words managed to tug your heartstrings, enough to make you blush. His choice of words and his charm always managed to hit your heart like cupid's arrows whenever he's around. And thinking about him like this makes it feel like you guys aren't dating, that was 4 months ago dear, you already have his heart and he has yours. "Anyway, stay put alright? I'll bring you some tea and some porridge." He said, his figure slowly getting farther and farther away from you and towards the kitchen. You watched him attentively, and it's probably the sickness hitting you like alcohol but you seem to notice every little detail in your surroundings but specifically; on him. The way sunshine hits him that he seems to have come out of a beautiful photograph, his golden eyes shining in the dimly lit kitchen, you thanked the weather with how sunny it is today, otherwise you wouldn't witness such a scene. Everything feels as if it came out of a dream, that it took you a few moments to realize he's walking towards you. And like the observant little shit he is, he always seems to notice your actions the same way you take note of every detail in today's scene. "You always seem to love staring at me, don't you?" He teased, breaking you out of your dreamy reverie of him. His head tilted at an angle as he placed the tray of food on the center table, sitting down next to you. "Can you feed yourself, or would you like for me to feed you?" You can't tell if he's teasing you or if you're really high from your fever, he looked at you awaiting an answer that you can't seem to find in your head. How empty was it at the moment? I doubt you can even think straight. And for anyone who knew you as a complete stranger with no deep knowledge of each other, your prolonged staring could become off-putting. Thank the gods Rui was patient with you, but since you couldn't answer he decided to take things to his own accord. Right now, all you can see is him picking up the bowl of porridge and the spoon, you've already forgotten his question and looked at him in complete confusion. He seemed to notice that little expression on your face. "Well, it doesn't seem like you want to feed yourself. I'll do it for you instead." He said with such a smile, you can't tell if it's a cheeky one or a warm smile, all you knew is that you'd fall head over heels for him all over again like this is the first time you've seen such a man so fine (despite his awful choice of casual clothing and his eccentricity).

Bringing the spoon-full of the porridge, he brought it closer to your mouth (he made sure it's cool enough to swallow down), and with a bit of reluctance you opened your mouth and ate up the food he had offered. He seems to be pleased that you didn't deny it at all. This cycle continued on until the bowl was empty, you wondered how much time had passed because for you, it felt like hours. Handing you the cup of tea he prepared, Rui took the dirty dish and went ahead in the kitchen to wash it. Today seems calming, he wasn't acting out his usual teasing bullcrap which was a little odd. You watched him wash the dishes, weirdly enough you seem to focus on him more than anything today. And you're sure he noticed that from the moment you two had seen each other in the house. Comfortable silence engulfed the both of you as Rui worked on the dishes and you stayed on the couch, sipping the warm tea he had prepared for you. The taste of the porridge was still on your tongue, and if you were to be completely honest it doesn't taste really well. But you couldn't really voice that out, unless you're a cruel bastard or some sort of brutally honest person, regardless you kept those words to yourself. But Rui can tell you didn't like it from the moment your face contort to an expression similar to disgust, and you feel a little bad you wished you could've hid it better the same way he hides every emotion with such a calm demeanor. Upon taking your final drink of tea, you looked back at him and with perfect timing, he's done cleaning the dishes as well. Rui looked back at you while he's wiping his hands, he simply gave you a smile before walking back towards you. You're not quite used to this side of him if you were to be frank. "You act weird today." You said, and you just realized the word choice of yours. How stupid, you thought, you could've said "odd" or anything similar to that. But well, he didn't seem offended by that, rather he just gave you a simper grin as he sat down on the couch (with what's left of an empty space, since you're laying down) "Do I? I don't seem to understand what you mean, elaborate please!" That came out more unserious than what you had expected, but this is Rui after all. And it's not a heavily serious situation, both you and Rui knew that given by the light atmosphere around you two. This time, you actually took enough consideration with your words making sure no sort of misunderstanding happens "You don't seem to be— well… Rui? How do I put it into words..—" And as if he's reading your mind, he immediately replied to you with a knowing smile "You mean the usual teasing and the eccentricity everyone and you know me for?" He looked at you with arms crossed, and you nodded ever so slightly. It feels a little embarrassing to voice that out now. "Well, I figured you're not in the mood for that since you're sick. And don't I throw in some jokes for a light-hearted atmosphere? Did the sickness get to you so bad now, dear?" Oh, and the usual him is back. You smiled at his consideration, though you wanted to say he can just keep his usual teasing around, a moment like this isn't so bad once in a while. Sure, you kind of miss it (even if it's just a single day without it), but it can't be helped now, can it? You let out a chuckle "Maybe? Well, it's a natural thing I suppose." He let out a laugh as a response.

Rui's hand gently landed on your forehead, checking your temperature. He treats you so delicately that you wished it was an everyday experience. You took a mental note of getting sick again some other time for him to dote on you all over again. "Hm, your temperature is still high… I'll go get a wet cloth for you." That was the last thing he said before standing up and leaving you behind. Sounds sad doesn't it? Don't be so gloomy now, he just went to the bathroom to get a basin and a cloth to soak it in water. Generic first fever kit, the same way your mother always does, don't you know that? But knowing you, you're a clingy bastard towards him. It's not a surprise you'd like to be near him almost all the time. And it just became worse with your fever putting you in such a silly little goofy mood that you don't want him to leave at all. Oh, and while you're doing your little monodrama, he just came back and it hasn't even been an hour. Yeah, this is all the work of your fever, sure. And you're not quite sure what kind of expression you were making, but Rui looked at you in amusement (kinda worrying, don't you think?) "Is my brief disappearance such a huge problem that you'd be making an expression beyond describing?" Frankly, you wished he wasn't such a teasing type of guy, but here's the situation you ended up in. You looked at him with a cranky expression and he simply laughed as a response. Watching him place down the small basin on the table, you wondered if this was even necessary at all if you were the type to just sleep off an entire fever and wake up all healthy again. His hands squeezed out any excess water on the cloth before placing it on your forehead, the coolness was enough to make you relax as you let out a soft sigh. He looked at you with a small smile on his face before placing his hand on your head, "Get better soon, otherwise I might start missing you at school." he said, grinning playfully. You laugh at his little statement, kicking him playfully (since he sat by your legs). "Hey, hey!" "I'll be back in no time, I'm a healthy person after all unlike you." You joked, earning a little laugh from the man himself. Rui looked at you with a little coy smile before placing a hand on your head "Well, even so who knows if it'll be worse," He started as he planted a fleeting little kiss on your cheeks, enough to make you flush from surprise. "That's why I want to make sure you're alright so long as you're in my care, dear." His sudden endearment was a sure surprise for you. It doesn't mean he doesn't show any affection though, don't get me wrong, but to see him with such an expression full of genuine love and worry for you is such a dreamy scene. You wished you could see this almost everyday if possible. Sure, you miss his little antics, his teasing, but having something like this for compensation isn't so bad after all. You smiled at his little declaration, letting out a giggle, "I'll be alright, after all my dear Rui Kamishiro is taking care of me." You said, cringing a little at your choice of words. He seems to take that excellently, letting out a soft laugh before his hand (that was previously on your head) breaks contact. Oh how you wished it lasted a little longer.

"Then I'll let you rest, you can call me if you need anything.." He said, standing up and beginning to walk away and as if you were possessed by some unknown force, your hand reached for his, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at you, a little confused and curious. Gathering enough of your thoughts to construct a coherent sentence, you spoke out with what's left of your shame. Is it too much to ask if you simply wanted to be with him? "Stay with me for a little longer.." You managed to speak out after a moment of awkward silence. Rui looked at you, not reacting whatsoever. That simple action made you a little worried that subconsciously, you let go of his hand. But it didn't seem like that was his plan, as he immediately grabbed it again the moment you break contact with it. "No need to act so shy about it, why are you acting as if we're not dating?" He laughed out, before sitting on the floor, next to your face. It may be a way to tease you, perhaps, or he simply wants to be near you as possible. Either way, you smiled at his little gesture of endearment. "Thank you." "Anything for you, dear." Those were the last words you heard from him, drowsiness hitting you like a truck as you slowly fell into dreamland.

And as for how Rui is going to explain this to your mother if she ever found out he skipped school just to tend you, you can find out about that in another time.

I can't take it anymore doggey

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[cws: violent ableism and fantasy racism, anti-indigenous racism mention, dehumanization, abuse culture, implied SA/CSA which did not happen but sure would have looked like it to outside parties.]

-

every single time i see someone talk about how the ancients (more specifically the amaurotines, because they always mean the amaurotines) weren't that bad--sure, their society had a few little problems, but overall they were responsible and compassionate and knew what they were doing, and had a good thing going that shouldn't have been interfered with even internally--i think about them turning the violent death of a grieving coworker's disabled daughter, the events of which they mock him for, into a funny story to share around the water cooler.

i think about how someone in a high position of authority, who was in charge of the legal aspect of her existence--of deciding whether she should be euthanized or not, in fact!--ignored blatant red flags for her being sexually abused when he was fully in a position to help. obviously, as fucked as what was happening with meteion was that was not the case. and hermes, i love you. but holy shit is 'haha yeah i made a little girl servant i have complete power over, and didn't register or approve her existence with the government like i'm supposed to. which also would have involved people looking her over. because she's my pet project :)' a REALLY bad look. people should have been investigating him, and the person whose primary job it was to investigate him went 'oh okay, you're an authority figure and i know you so i'll take your word for it :)'

i think about how that authority figure barely remembered she died or even existed, and thought the idea that she could be murdered or should be grieved at all was an odd little thought her quirky dad was self-harming by making such a big deal out of. i think about the fact that these people preen about their ~vigorous intellectual debates~ and ~constructive free exchange of ideas about society,~ and yet after untold thousands of years this idea is such an utterly unthinkable fringe position that supposedly no one has ever heard of it.

(no shade on hythlodaeus enjoyers but holy shit i do NOT like this man, and this is one of the biggest reasons why. jesus fucking christ.)

like i'm sorry but no amount of pretty parks and sharing and being polite and paying lip service to responsible creation, and speaking nicely to children (sometimes) and meaning well (sometimes), and just generally not being a bunch of malicious mustache-twirling cartoon villains, changes the fact that amaurot was a society of cruel evil selfish bastards who had the power to treat the world like their personal toybox and get away with it. and who are also strongly implied to have been colonizers long before the final days, no less. and it horrifies me how it sails over so many people's heads that the entire point of the Nicey Nice Everyone Shares and Gets Along and is Happy is that it's absolutely fucking terrifying how effective they clearly were at stifling any meaningful accountability, opposition, or reform.

(don't get me started on the take i keep seeing everywhere that the amaurotines are analogous to real-life indigenous genocide victims, oh my god do NOT get me started, jesus wept)

like. this isn't just annoyance over incorrect or kind of insensitive takes. the vast majority of the time when i see people try to defend the ancients, they say with their whole chests a mountain of absolutely horrible things--implied or mask off--about real life issues, and seeing things like this reduced down to 'having a few little problems, but really what society doesn't' is just. upsetting. it is really upsetting and i wish it was not such a constant, and that i could find more people actually talking about the nature of amaurot's fuckery without at best getting immediately derailed into SO YOU'RE SAYING THEY SHOULD ALL BE DRAGGED OUT AND SHOT IN THE STREET, IS THAT IT

all this is to say: setting aside any wider-scale events, it boggles my fucking mind that just for that passage alone the fandom as a whole wouldn't cheer hermes on if he started setting people in his vicinity on fire lmao

[c0rpseductor]

bluhhh

this is truly really stupid but i'm feeling bad about crush shit again. maybe its just bc its 3am. ik that's like. I woke up at midnight so its morning for me but still

it's just like. Humiliating to like someone and know they have no interest in you and never will. I haven't even spoken to this guy in like months, it's like, it should just be over by now, but on the rare occasion he'll like my dumb posts or whatever I'm like "oh wow teehee" and get all excited again. FOR NO REASON. STUPID. STUPID IDIOT. and that would be like, I would feel like a repellant little creature anyway but it'd be tolerable, except like. hate talking about DID stuff. but there's a part who is extremely jealous of this guy and despises him and wants to kill him with a rock and becomes Frantic with jealousy if i think about him and sometimes angry at me. so usually any kind if momentary pleasant buzz is immediately killed off by "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!!! I HATE THAT HOMEWRECKING BASTARD!!!!!" so i in fact just like. get upset and despairing and feel sick. the whole thing is a net negative. Over someone I haven't spoken to in months and doesn't probably even think about me or care that i exist. UGH!!!!!

i don't think about him a LOT thankfully but every time i do its a disaster. i wish i could press a button that would make me not care about him in any way shape or form and not remember him when he isn't directly in front of my face. i don't like having feelings for people it's embarrassing and nobody ever likes me back that way because i am not particularly charming or attractive

[adultswim2021]

The Boondocks #41: “Lovely Ebony Brown” | July 11, 2010 - 11:30PM | S03E11

Half-assing this write-up, just giving you a heads up. In this one Granddad has sex. 

In this episode Robert Freeman, also known as “granddad" of "granddad has sex” fame, starts dating a woman who is simply too good to be true. Most of the humor comes out of these fairly isolated but recurring moments of double entendre meta-commentary about the show itself, with this woman saying she wants to become a character in their lives, a “recurring character”, if you will. She’s basically dating the show itself, and commenting on the fact that the show will probably not be on for very much longer. You know, stuff like that. 

Sorta found this one to be light on laughs, but, being white, I did laugh at the Ferris Bueller reference. Matthew Broderick killed a couple of people with his car in 1987, severely injuring Jennifer Gray in the process. Matthew Broderick has atoned for this by being in a sexless marriage with Sarah Jessica Parker. May he never see the light of heaven and may he exist eternally in his current state of hell. He is a bastard

EPHEMERA CORNER:

MAIL BAG:

Sorry for being bad about updating, but my job immediately started making me do homework as soon as I started doing this again. It’s not that much, and will be over soon. Most of this is me having a attitude problem. Hey… let’s answer some letters shall we 😎

Sometimes I think you take delight in saying "no" to stuff people ask you without actually considering why you are saying "no". I know you grew up on Snappy Answers To Stupid Questions but I think it's getting a little tiresome.

Was more of a Cracked Magazine Shut Ups kinda guy but to be honest saying no can cut either way. Sometimes it feels like giving up. Sometime it feels like I'm freeing myself from the burden of effort. But sometimes, and this is very important, no simply means no.

Are the Boondocks the only black people you like? Do they put the BLM in your jixBLMy? Does calling you jixby or even jixblmy count as doxing. If so PLEASE CENSOR IT, I don't want you to get banned on X.

X is the everything app created by Elon Musk and his friend Donald Trump. Unfortunately both are racist and it's weird to be talking about them. Why are you doing this

Ephemera corner for children's hospital those guided by voices videos rob corddry and his brother were in. Don't remember what year sorry

Okay, here it is

I think the paper guys on Frankenhole was a way to save money to easily create new characters by printing out some paper and folding them up. Personally I think it's racist for wh*te people to appropriate the japanese art of origami so I hate it

Thank you Kon (this is kon by the way), yes, I for some reason did not think of this. This show reminds me of a time when it was still fun to use the printer on something.

From what I remember Children's Hospital could be fun and funny but it's setting isn't really a deep enough well. Might as well turn The Californians into an adult swim show (or the Kissing Family if that's not Wainy enough)

David Wain directing a kissing family movie would be a match made in heaven. It's one of the few reasons to be happy that heaven doesn't exist.