#the children will just figure out what they mean from context

[captainpikeachu]

I don't know why Tumblr decided years later to tell me there is a response to me for this post. But since I see your response now, it is only fair I give a full response in return since I did not address some things in my short reply.

Regarding your comment on Anakin having not seen Palpatine for years, that is actually not true. In canonical comics and novels, we know that the Jedi allowed Palpatine to be a mentor to Anakin since he was a young boy. They have interacted numerous times for years, and this is why by the time of Attack of the Clones, Anakin and Palpatine already have a relationship, why Palpatine says "your patience has paid off" and Anakin answers "your guidance more than my patience". Because they have been interacting, because Palpatine has been whispering in Anakin's ear for years.

Now again, this is not to say that Anakin can't be responsible for the choices that he does make. But we can't ignore that Palpatine actively manipulated, exploited, and groomed Anakin. And that influence does matter in the context of this story. This isn't just Anakin on his own going off the handle, this is someone for whom life has already been a struggle, who already feels isolated even among his fellow Jedi and then Palpatine comes in to carefully and slowly over the years pouring fuel on the fire before it becomes an inferno.

And as for Padme's reaction to Anakin's revelation about the Tuskens, she was shocked, she was clearly thrown off, but note that she takes a moment before she considers her next words, because she can see that Anakin is crying, upset, and clearly feeling conflict and guilt over what he did. So yes, she says to be angry is to be human, because saying "You're insane!" is hardly going to actually resolve this situation. This isn't Anakin all proud and happy going LOOK I KILLED ALL OF THEM! If that was the case, then yes, Padme's reaction would not be appropriate. But Anakin wasn't proud, he was angry, he was upset, he even says he should have behaved better than what he did. It's clear to Padme that Anakin recognizes the wrong in what he did, but he lost sight of that in the heat of moment because of the murder of his mother. And sure, we see the signs as an outsider with a clear perspective, but there is a reason that people within a relationship has a harder time seeing things clearly. To Padme, she is seeing that young boy who was a slave torn away from his mother, she is seeing and understanding where that rage and anger would come from, and she is seeing that he feels conflicted and guilty, not proud. So she tries to help, she tries to de-escalate. She also wants to see the best in Anakin, the same way that we all want to see the best in the people closest to us.

And in any case, whether Padme and Anakin would have had a happy future with the twins, it doesn't change the fact that they deserved a chance, they deserved a chance to figure things out and have a life with their children.

---------------------------

And regarding your other comments in the original post. I wanted to address some things.

I really find it distasteful to compare two women through saying one is better because she was willing to die to have a child while the other couldn't stay alive for her children. It oversimplifies a lot of things, particuarly regarding emotional trauma, and it is blaming Padme for her own death. It is in many ways painting a woman as vapid and shallow for dying of a "broken heart" instead of being alive for her children, and then effectively implying that it makes her a bad mother and that's why she doesn't deserve to have her children with her and they should be raised by someone else. Maybe you don't mean to come off that way, but it just comes across as very unsympathetic to the ways emotional trauma can affect a person. Someone losing the will to live after being dealt with a huge emotional trauma (the collapse of her entire world, both everything she fought for and the life she wanted with Anakin and their family) does not mean she was choosing to just abandon her children. And having seen people waste away and die because of "heartbreak" from losing a partner, as silly as that might seem to some, it's not something people just choose to do (like depression) or that they just up and decided to abandon their other loved ones, including kids because they weren't fighting hard enough for them to stay. Trauma doesn't fit in a neat little box with a rule book, and the way you have framed Padme's death in this as a negative mark against her just rubs me the wrong way.

As for Bail not being able to stand up after being told his daughter was killed versus Anakin torturing Leia, this is just missing the context that Bail knew it was his daughter and Anakin didn't. If Anakin had still done torturing even though he knew Leia was his daughter, then this comparison would be more valid and fair.

And as for "Breha and Bail put themselves in danger by adopting Leia selflessly" - I'm not saying they didn't do a good thing or that it wasn't dangerous, but it also wasn't entirely selfless. They wanted a child and they got one. It would be more selfless if they had not intended to have any kids but took Leia in anyways. Ultimately, this opportunity gave them something THEY wanted.

Lastly, I'll just reiterate what I said before, both sets of parents are valid, and Breha and Bail clearly did a great job raising Leia, as Owen and Beru did for Luke, but Leia and Luke clearly also did inherit good qualities from their biological parents, qualities that both sets of adoptive parents nurtured and helped to blossom, qualities that ultimately led them to saving the galaxy. I would never want to remove Breha/Bail and Owen/Beru from Leia and Luke's lives, but I would also always stand up to say that Anakin and Padme deserved a chance to have a life with their children. Maybe it wouldn't have been a perfectly idyllic and romantic life, but they still deserved a chance.

"Anakin and Padme deserved to raise their twins"

Breha Organa literally suffered at least 5 miscarriages and was willing to die for her children, and almost die with her last miscarriage.

Bail Organa literally couldn't stand up straight after being told her daughter was killed.

Breha and Bail put themselves in danger by adopting Leia selflessly.

While:

Anakin murdered women and children BEFORE Palpatine's manipulation and his fall to the dark side and tortured his own daughter.

Padme not only didn't care Anakin killing children, but she die because she was heartbroken after Anakin turning bad, leaving two babies who needed her.

NO, I WOULDN'T CHANGE BAIL AND BREHA ORGANA AS LEIA'S PARENTS FOR ANYTHING

[tippifunandprose]

I love when other parents are like, "Your kids have such a big vocabulary! What app are you using for that?" and meanwhile this is how my kids learn big words...

Me: I got you this She-Ra sweatshirt that was only available in juniors so I could live vicariously.

Child: Vicariously? What does that mean?

*I say nothing*

Child, a second later: Oh wait does it mean like: it didn't come in your size so you bought it for me so you could watch me wear it and pretend you were living through me?

*I give her a high five*

[arolesbianism]

Trying to get a better feel of Choice’s design

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

I gotcha, dawg.

Well, there's lots I could say here, but perhaps the easiest thing to address is you yourself saying you want to remain anonymous so as not to get "in trouble" - I presume from Democrat Tumblr users(?)

In a democracy, you shouldn't have to be frightened to say who you voted for or the concerns you have about an election.

This present climate of fear of saying the wrong thing or using the wrong pronoun or is one of the things I find most refreshing about the Trump train: he's the only mainstream politician in America openly pushing back against Wokeness - which is a 21st rebranding of Political Correctness - which is in turn a perversion of the word "correct" to mean "in line with present party policy" that first appears in Chairman Mao's Little Red Book. Also the only U.S. mainstream politician against the present transgender madness (the castration, sterilization and brainwashing of children) and open borders. These are very commonsense positions necessary for any nation's survival that have massively widespread support amongst the majority of ordinary people, but no-one else in government was doing anything to represent them.

It took an outsider not in the pocket of the donors who own the arms companies and the oil companies and the media companies and the pharmaceutical companies and so on to actually push back against the status quo and have a thick-enough skin and good humour to not back down. That's who Trump is. Yes he's a flawed and sometimes buffoonish-like figure, but the fact that he is a bullheaded businessman has meant he's been able to look at America as an enterprise in decline that needs fixing and overhauling to make "great" again, and just charge through the red tape to do whatever actually needs doing.

The first Trump presidency was a time of democrats and other hysterical left-wing activists burning, looting and rioting in America, but on the global stage it was a time of relative peace: Trump invaded no country or started any new wars (the way Biden did only 6 weeks into his presidency), and there's no reason to think he will this time round either. He did nothing to incite the very silly January 6th free tour of the Capitol Building, but for telling people to be peaceful and go home he - the sitting president - was silenced and booted from every social media platform.

So much was made this election over abortion rights - and I myself have always been pro-choice - but he didn't (and has repeatedly stated he won't) ban abortion but simply made it an issue that individual states can decide for themselves, which makes sense given the range of opinions on that matter in different parts of the country. It's probably my least favourite aspect of his policies, but the fact that such a relatively trivial matter was placed front and center in the Democrats' campaign and all that the hosts of The View and other female media dross could talk about for a year just tells you how shockingly debased and distracted political discourse has become in the west.

I could go on, but rather than addressing one claim after another, I would suggest you simply make a list of all the things you can recall the media and the democrats claiming Trump has said or done, and then go look up the original unedited videos that the out of context soundbites have been taken from, and then ask yourself whether what they presented you with seems a fair and unbiased representation of any individual, and whether it seems reasonable to trust the people who relentlessly deceived you in this way. That would do more to broaden your point of view than anything I could say.

[haru-dipthong]

The difference between あのー and えーっと

As I touched on in my japanese goncharov post, it’s amazing how much novel research, entertainment, and art are locked behind a language barrier. Even though as english speakers, we are privileged to have many things translated into our language, it’s a simple fact that most things will not be translated into most languages.

I am a huge fan of ゆる言語学ラジオ, a japanese podcast about linguistics. The hosts recently released a book, 言語沼, which goes into detail about some of the subconscious rules native japanese speakers follow but aren’t consciously aware of (an english equivalent might be that adjective-ordering rule we follow e.g. big brown cow, not brown big cow). I’m finding it fascinating, and I wanted to discuss some of it here in english, because I think people learning japanese would find some of these things really useful. It’d be a shame if this knowledge stayed stuck behind the japanese language barrier when the people who would find it the most useful can’t speak japanese fluently enough to read it!

The book talks about how most Japanese people will think of 「あのー」 and 「えーっと」 as having the exact same meaning - they’re both “meaningless” filler words. Despite their belief that they’re the same, those same native speakers will subconsciously only use あのー in one particular type of situation and 「えーっと」 in another, and even feel confused or annoyed if they hear another speaker use one in the wrong context.

So what’s the actual difference? 「えーっと」 is used when the speaker is taking time to remember or solve something. For example, the following exchange is very natural:

Person A: 7 x 5は？ Person B: えーっと、35だ

This makes it a pretty versatile filler word! You can use it pretty much anywhere. Another example would be when you’re talking to yourself, trying to remember where you left your keys.

えーっと、鍵どこ置いたっけ？

On the other hand, あのー is much more specific. It can only be used when you’re taking time to figure out the best way to phrase something. For example, when you’re trying to get a stranger’s attention.

あのー、ちょっといいですか？

In contrast, if Person A was addressed with 「えーっと、ちょっといいですか？」by Person B, they’d feel it was rude because instead of considering how to say something, B is considering what to say, which gives the impression that they hadn’t even figured out what they needed to ask before addressing Person A.

This gives 「あのー」 a more ”polite” feeling than 「えーっと」, even though neither is actually more polite than the other. They’re just used in different circumstances.

Let’s quickly look at the example with the lost keys again. If you replace the filler word:

あのー、鍵どこ置いたっけ？

It is very unnatural. The authors of the book jokingly say that it sounds like you’re talking to a ghost, because 「あのー」 is only used when you’re figuring out how to phrase something, and you wouldn’t worry about that if you’re talking to yourself.

Also, did you know even japanese children properly use each filler word in the correct situation? Despite almost all japanese people (even as adults) being unaware of this rule, they’re subconsciously abiding by it even as children - just from listening to their parents follow the same rules!

It really is amazing how good your subconscious mind is at acquiring language, and how terrible your conscious mind is at it. If you’re not already, I highly recommend integrating a lot of simple language content (e.g. youtube, kids shows, etc) into your study routine - listening to people talk is simply the fastest way to become fluent in your target language.

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[melodic-haze]

Can I ask about sub Arlecchino being fucked with a strap-on in his office? I love your writing and sub Arlecchino is so... 😩

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Mommy kink 😜 aka reader is the 'Mother' figure to Arle's 'Father' ahahahahahah, reader with a strap referred to as a dick, overstimulation, semi-public? It's in her office so

☆ — NOTES: THANK YOUUU OMG I'M HAPPY YOU LIKE MY WRITING ANON❗️❗️SORRY THIS WAS ROTTING IN THE ASKBOX I had to do some stuff 😭😭😭 but it's okay bc I come back with a VENGEANCE

Ohhh dude the thing that just popped into my head you're NOT READY (delusional)

While she thought that battling her own children + the Traveller was the best move, it had kinda very much irked you. "I had trained them, it's fine," she says dismissively at the time when you confronted her and something inside you just kinda! Snapped!!!

If a Father has to have a hard hand on his children, then a Mother contrasts that by giving them a gentle touch

That DOES mean that you are to put anyone who threatens your children in any way, and Arlecchino is NO exception whatsoever

And what better way to punish her than to give her a taste of her own medicine in.. a different context?

One hand grabbing a fistful of her hair as you pushed her head down on the desk and the other clenching onto her hip as you moved her on your length, you're drilling into your lover relentlessly despite the slurred sobs that she had let out.

She had cum so many times by now, you didn't bother to keep count after the third time. Through that, however, you hadn't even entertained the mere thought of stopping, only reluctantly doing so when you ran out of stamina or needed to drink water—it's not as if you let her catch her breath as you did so, with the vibrator you had shoved into her at max setting whenever you needed to step away.

Your assault hasn't relented in the least, no matter how many times Arlecchino begged you to stop, no matter how many times she said to do better, no matter how many times she pleaded for you to go easier on her.

"Why would I give way to lenience when you hadn't done the same?" You mused coldly as you continued to plow into her over and over again, "You deem yourself exempt to my wrath, Peruere?"

You feel her try to shake her head in response before quickly following it up with a slurred defense, "N-No, 'm nn-- mmng! Not.. I--"

You clicked your tongue and gave her ass a loud smack, which earns you a garbled moan from the one underneath you, "You can't even form coherent sentences because of something you initially regarded as an 'unnecessary' action.. but that's okay."

The auditory mixture of her excess of slick between her thighs, your skin coming in contact every time you bottomed out inside of her, the pornographic noises that escaped her lips... It was all downright sinful, something completely unbecoming of her position.

But right now, she didn't care less. Or couldn't, more like, considering the complete lack of thought in her head. The only remaining thing within her mind was you and the way you put her in her place.

And the both of you knew that she relished the feeling of having things out of her control.

"You don't need to answer me," you continued, leaning down to press a kiss on the back of her neck.. before shoving her face down roughly as you straightened back up, "you just need to be put in your place, baby. Understand?"

You actually receive a desperate nod amongst the constant surge of white-hot overstimulation and constant orgasm.

"Good... Just don't resist and let mommy discipline you properly."

As if on cue, she cums again with a jolt, much to your delight.

Wanna fuck her so hard that her juices drip onto the floor and slide down on the side of the desk 😞😞 oughhghghh

There's that RISK of being caught in the midst of your lil session too—you could have it locked all along and while normal everyday Arlecchino would've noticed it perfectly fine, the Arlecchino you have underneath you is wayyyy too fucked out to actually realise in the moment so she's panicking but also? Her arousal is actually RAMPED UP are you kidding me

She won't admit to exhibitionism but there's smth There when she thinks of how the world would know that you have such a powerful Hold on her 🫶

But rn she doesn't care to move, not when her thighs are quivering and her pussy's aching to be filled all over again, practically getting used to the feeling of you inside her

Godddd break her enough and she might not be able to live without you ☺️☺️ or maybe you already have who knows ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ just saying the moment you donned the title of a Mother was the moment that she was indesputably yours for you to do as you saw fit ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

[jpitha]

The Oxygen Breathers: With one hand tied behind my back!

The human sat on the bench in the common area for at least one of their hours before the children worked up the courage to approach.

"You're a human right?" One of the children - an Innari - said as they approached the human. They were taller than the human, and seemed to have barely any bones. They moved and undulated like an octopus that was used to being out of the water.

The human's helmet flashed an cartoon icon of its face and smiled - without their teeth - broadly. "That's right! My name is Harold, but everyone calls me Harry. What's your name?"

"I'm Opian, this is Downward Draft, and standing in the back is Vizxxian." They gestured with their tentacle-like appendage. It had manipulators on the end which could be seen a little like fingers. Good for fine detail work.

Harry put up his gauntleted hand and spread his fingers. A wave. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. What can I help with?"

"Downward Draft says humans are the strongest of the Coalition peoples. Is that true?"

Harry sat up slightly. His icon continued to speak while he did. "Well, I don't rightly know if that's true, Downward Draft. I haven't met everyone. Of the ones I did meet, I have a hunch I might be stronger, but you also have to remember, we come from a heavier world than most of the other Coalition species. Earth's gravitational pull is half again what it is here on this station. There were gasps and noises of surprises from the kids. "That's so heavy!" Downward Draft rustled their feathers they caught the light and sparkled. "This station is already heavy for us; our homeworld's gravity is even less. I bet I couldn't' even walk on your planet!"

Harry's icon nodded. "You might be right, Downward Draft. But, gravity aside, it's nice here. I like the colors you use to decorate, and I like your plants. Everything back home is just different shades of green."

Vizxxian was working themselves up for something. Harry peered over Opian's head. "How about you? Do you have a question?"

Viz's eye slits squeezed shut and they blurted out "My parent says you're all a bunch of 'rock throwers' and that we should have never let you into the Coalition. They say that outside of your suits and ships, you're not so tough."

Downward Draft nudged Viz. "Don't be mean Viz! Harry is a guest here. You know how to treat guests."

Harry chuckled. "It's all right Downward Draft. We learn things from our parents. Part of growing up is trying to figure out what is true and what isn't. Now, I'm not mad, but you know that 'rock throwers' is a slur, and not a nice thing to say, right?"

Viz's ears wiggled in assent. "Yes, but that's the word father used. I know it's a bad word though."

Harry nodded. "Context is important though. I could say 'I picked up this rock and threw it' and that's not a slur, but if I said 'those rock throwers always go back on their deals' that is a slur. It's all right though, I'm not angry." Harry's helmet cleared. The kids looked across as his face became visible for the first time. Opian's eyes dilated in surprise. "So your dad thinks that we're not so tough outside of our suits? How about we place a little wager? I'll get out of my suit, and if any of you can touch my arm, I'll buy you a snack."

Opian shrinked back. Downward Draft raised their feathered arms in a gesture of dismissial. "You can't breath the atmostphere here! You'll die!"

Harry put up a hand. "It'll be all right. I'll wear a breathing mask, and the pressure and atmosphere difference won't hurt me for the time I'll be out of the suit."

"Oh we couldn't-"

"I'll do it!" Opian and Downward Draft turned in shock to Viz. They had stood to their full height, just a little taller than Harry and bent their legs just a little. "I can touch your arm."

Harry grinned. "Good. Let's see." Harry stood up, and touched the pad on his suit's arm. There was orange light that illuminated his face and he frowned and pressed more buttons on his suit. After a moment, it turned green, and lines appeared all over the suit. Joints. With a hiss of pressure and a whine of servos, his suit unfolded like a flower, and Harry stepped out.

He was much shorter than the kids. Just two meters tall if that. On the top of his head was a dark fur that was closely cropped, and he had fur all over the lower part of his face that was the same color. Under the outer, armored suit he wore a tight body suit that connected to the outer suit with thin wires. Harry reached down and unplugged them and they slid up into the suit he was wearing and disappeared. Opian was impressed. Their suits seemed to be far more advanced than ones of Innari make.

"There." Harry's voice was much lower than his translator made it sound. Maybe it was the difference in breathing gas? It was also a little muffled by his mask. "Okay Viz. Whenever you're ready."

Opian and Draft stood back and watched. Viz stood stock still and seemed like they were trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, Viz howled and ran towards Harry. Their long legs consumed the distance between them relentlessly. At the last half meter, Viz spun and in one fluid motion bend down and lashed out with one of their legs. Opian gasped. He was attacking Harry! That's a lethal kick if it connects.

Before Opian could react any further, Harry... wasn't were he was before. He was standing a meter to the side, and Viz was flying backwards into the bench. Viz jumped up, and roared again. This was a roar of frustration as well as a battle cry, and charged Harry. Once again, Harry stood there watching, and as Viz turned to kick him, he wasn't were Viz expected, and they went skittering across the smooth floor.

Harry stood with his hands on his hips. His eyes flicked to Opian and Draft. "Remember, strength isn't everything. Know your opponent. Know how they attack, watch for signs, paying attention and then you can move out of the way and dodge." Harry was grinning and put his hand out and curled his fingers towards himself. "Come on, Opian, Downward Draft, you try too!"

Downward Draft bent low and leapt towards Harry, using their legs to absorb as much potential energy as possible, releasing it as they sprung towards him with arms outstretched. Quicker than Opian could follow, Harry ducked underneath the Avar, and Draft sailed harmlessly overhead.

Harry, looked at Opian and raised one of the small lines of hair above his eyes. "What about you, Opian? Give it a try?"

"No, thank you Harry. I concede. There's no way I could touch you."

Harry's nodded. "That's all right. Mayb-"

Harry looked over and Downward Draft was standing mere centimeters away, with his arm out, and the barest edge of one of his iridescent feathers brushed against Harry's arm.

"Got you." Draft whispered.

Harry tipped his head back and laughed. The kids all took a step back in fear. "No, no, it's all right. that's a fair touch. You win, Downward Draft. I'll buy you snacks. Just let me get back into my suit. My skin is starting to itch."

It only took a moment for Harry's suit to climb onto him and fit around him as he stood there. "I have to say Downward Draft, you can move quietly."

They ruffled their feathers in pride. "Thank you Harry. On my world, moving without noise is a prized skill."

Harry darkened his helmet and his icon re-appeared. "Harry?"

He turned, "Yes, Viz?"

"You don't have to darken your helmet. We don't think you're scary anymore."

Harry's helmet cleared. He smiled without showing his teeth. "I'm glad to hear that Vizxxian. I'm glad to hear that."

[psicheanima]

What do you think about the greater complexities of denji and power’s relationship? some fans argue the romantic undertones kind of throw the common “they’re siblings” understanding out the window and claim that power had feelings for denji, even if denji didn’t. I think these are fair assessments to make but I often see other fans react very poorly because it ruins the ��platonic soulmates” thing people have to come to love about them. Regardless, makima is the one who delegated power to little sister status when we all know csm relationships are more complicated than that AND makima has a surface level understanding of human relationships in general. So what are your thoughts?

When you have two feral children like Denji and Power, grown without any form of love whatsoever— friendship, familial or romantic, its undeniable that they will thus explore all these types of love in order to settle on the one that both fits them. They don’t know what boundaries are. They have to go through all these things because they are children who were not taught.

This is why romantic undertones don’t exist for Aki’s relationship with either of them. He is a well adjusted adult who understands that he sees Denji and Power as part of his familial unit. They don’t have this context for society, so they’re everywhere, until they begin to understand their relationship as “platonic” while Denji takes care of Power during her PTSD.

These romantic undertones exist due to our perceptions of romance, but for the characters, it’s different. Power never sees Denji romantically. Ever. She is a devil drawn to warm blood, touch starved, and thus wants to constantly be attached to his body. She is delusionally self confident and crosses people’s comfort zones in what can be perceived as romantic affection, but to her, it is just affection.

Denji initially sees Power as a romantic interest because that’s all women are. They will save him from his miserable loneliness by providing him true, pure ascension. But Power is disgusting, and he isn’t actually sexually attracted to her. He realizes women are flawed beings, that he wants to take care of her, that he loves her in a way he didn’t know existed because he has never been cared for, much less in a familial way. So they are closer than normal siblings would be with one another. The love is big and overwhelming, they don’t know where to put it and both have pre-conceived notions for what it means to love (Denji’s is gendered, hers is violent.)

Nonetheless, Makima was correct in her assessment that Power is a little sister figure to Denji— the thing is, he only got about a few weeks of existing in this dynamic with the darkness devil thing. They could have grown even more healthy, stable and classically “siblings” if given time. What makes this assessment fun is that not even Denji knew he could see women in this way. Makima did not manipulate him to not form a romantic attachment to Power, she knew in advance. It just shows how utterly in control of his emotional life she is. Compare that to Reze, who she simply removes from the table.

They are siblings, they are platonic soulmates, and they do have romantic undertones, in the way we view “romance”, but it’s not that way to them. they are not lovers, or romantic. not even for a singular moment in time. That all exists at once

[becausegraf]

So... Gulool Ja Ja and his troubled eldest

Some musings on why the Dawnservant, social skills-powerhouse, observant and transparent and trustworthy and capable and responsible Gulool Ja Ja

seems to have massively dropped the ball when it came to, you know...

preventing his own only biological child from turning towards murderous self-destructive supervillainy.

Gulool Ja Ja's biggest, most tragic failure in my understanding is that when it comes to Zoraal Ja specifically, he has a blind spot, and I think he knows it but he can't fix it.

I mean, what do you think is the ONE area that, unfortunately, he truly has nobody, not a single person in Eorzea, he can seek experienced, trustworthy counsel on?

It's being born a Blessed Sibling, living as a Blessed Sibling, Ruling as a Blessed Sibling, and raising a Son Of A Blessed Sibling who doesn't have two heads and will grow up facing extremely vicious treatment by some people as a consequence.

Zoraal Ja is unique, and the complications that come with being what he is in this cultural context are SMACK in the hazard zone of Gulool Ja Ja's own vulnerabilities and struggles.

Gulool Ja Ja's flying blind on this one, and his son's temperament is precisely the sort that his usual tools aren't a good fit for.

Papa's style is to give his children space, let them make their own decisions, to invite them to seek help and give them everything they could ask for in their environment to support them when he cannot.

Zoraal Ja's issue is one that would have required Gulool Ja Ja to be much more confident in his capacity as his parent than he seems to have been. He needed to see clearly that his son was struggling and that under his circumstances, he couldn't just ask for help, and ACT ON THAT OBSERVATION. Asking for support is not something that comes naturally to Zoraal Ja, and I can see a dozen reasons why he would actively avoid it, too.

'Kiddo, something's bothering you and for your own good, we need to talk or have you open up to someone else before this causes you great harm, and I will be accountable for this happening whether you're happy to cooperate or determined to run away from it. We're gonna figure this out, okay?'

That's the initiative it would have taken, at a much, much earlier point in time, for Zoraal Ja to have gotten the support he needed. He needed his parent to see the danger and protect him from it.

Gulool Ja Ja, through no ill intent or inate fault of his own, simply failed in that.

He doubtlessly has his own hangups, painful topics, things that drive even him to look away and lie to himself. Even if he had the amazing instinct of compensating for a shitton of his own flaws and limitations by cooperating with others that had what he lacked, again, in this one regard

literally nobody in existence

would have any sort of experience with this particular complexity, let alone the keen eye to identify Gulool Ja Ja's massive blind spot AND take the initiative to reach out to him and offer aid.

He and Zoraal ja both are masters at hiding their pain (these chicken dudes are a lot like cats, apparently), and both have pretty compelling reasons to do so. There aren't many people that would

a) care about them personally enough to even decide something needs fixing

b) have the emotional insight to detect what's going on and empathize with the exact problem

c) be the kind of person who could think of a suitable way to help without making a mess

d) have the guts to prod at their personal life without being asked to do so, and avoid getting shown the door immediately

In a sense, Gulool Ja Ja's unique circumstances, the rare thing that DISconnects him from others with no overlap with others anywhere, is his Achilles heel, his one fatal weakness in a person otherwise dipped in invulnerability.

And Zoraal Ja is the arrow that came for it, and it makes my heart break for the both of them.

(This gets a little personal for me, too, in the sense of 'my parents are so capable and smart and empathetic, they're so admirable and competent with everything and everyone EXCEPT WITH ME, for SOME reason, what the FUCK is wrong with me'. Nothing, my issues were just too much like their own issues, which isn't my fault and not theirs either.

Tell ya what, it's really weirdly painful to be in such a position as a kid, caught between love and admiration on one hand, and burning frustration and resentment and shitty self-esteem on the other.)

[sepublic]

You've gotta wonder what kind of person Manny Noceda was; He's one of two people who informed so much of Luz's character, her grief and posthumous relationship with her father is reflective of the creator's own experiences, it's foundational to the story itself in how Luz chooses to honor her parent and keep his memory alive as she learns to keep living for herself, too.

I already wrote a fic briefly exploring on that, but let's talk about it more: Obviously it's not always so clear-cut between parents and children in real life, but I guess you could see Luz as the culmination of Camila and Manny. So one could use this as a means to work backwards with Manny, to see what parts of Luz she didn't get from Camila, but from her father.

I imagine Manny as someone very confident, brash; He doesn't back down from a challenge. Maybe Manny immigrated to the U.S. to boldly pursue the American Dream, and didn’t give up when it hadn’t immediately paid off, just as his daughter embraced the Boiling Isles. But I also think a part of him doesn't want to be seen as weak, less capable, conceding to others. Manny isn't going to let other people bully him around and he doesn't want Luz or Camila to be hurt that way either. If Camila passed down her fear to Luz, Manny passed down his thoughtlessness; So he might have that same headstrong tendency to sweep others along in his need to prove himself, and in his well-meaning need to help them prove themselves.

Did it ever frustrate Camila, who would sometimes be more worried about just surviving by fitting in? Maybe they both balanced each other out, just as Luz balances out these different, seemingly paradoxical parts of herself. Did he not want to appear weak like Luz, particularly with the context of his illness? Did Manny try and hide that, prioritize his loved ones, just as Luz later did, maybe even internalized from him?

I can't imagine how scared he was, slowly dying; Particularly when it comes to his wife and daughter. He's going to leave them behind. He wants them to be safe so badly. He wants to see Luz grow up and become the person she wants to be. He wants his family to know that it's okay to be themselves, that they're everything. But Manny isn't sure if he's getting it across in the right words, if he's saying it properly. He needs to make the most of his time.

I can see Manny as someone loud, energetic. Eccentric. Luz gets her odder mannerisms from him, he's brimming with this earnest, delightful energy that's so hard not to like. Did he immigrate to the U.S., or was he the child of immigrants? Grandchild, even? Did he and Camila resonate together over their ancestry as another reason for feeling alienated from the majority, where they were? How did they feel about their own families, did they also worry about having to choose between two worlds? Did Manny desperately fight tooth and nail to survive, because us weirdoes have to stick together?

Did Manny have anyone else to tell him to stick up for himself, or did he have to figure it out himself? Was Camila one of those people who helped, and vice-versa, did they both reassure one another? And when Manny was gone, Camila just didn't have the heart and confidence to keep saying that to herself. Was Manny still scared for his wife and daughter when he died, or did he dare hope in his final moments, just as he always dared to live as himself in life? I wish Manny could’ve gotten to see how his loved ones would thrive, and all of the people they’d meet and befriend.

[creature-wizard]

Magical Correspondences 101

So I figured I should put all of my stuff on correspondences in one place for convenience's sake, since having them spread in a bunch of short posts isn't really helpful if I need to link them. Anyway, for those of you getting into magical correspondences, here's what I've got!

So, what are correspondences?

A lot of modern witchcraft operates on the belief that things like stones, plants, colors, and so on have certain metaphysical properties. Why do they have these properties? There are multiple explanations. Sometimes the properties are supposed to be innate. Sometimes they supposedly exist because the object in question is a symbol for something else. You'll find that many spells combine these two ideas, such as using an herb because of its inherent properties it's believed to have, then also using a flower because it's a symbol of a deity.

(Will it hurt anything to mix these concepts? Personally, I don't think so. Spiritual beliefs and metaphysical models are often messy, and occasionally contradict each other. I've never really seen it hurt anything.)

If you search around, you can easily find charts that describe various properties associated with various things. People sometimes assume that these properties were handed down to us from authorities who were so in tune with magic or the divine that they were basically infallible, and newbie witches just have no hope of figuring things out for themselves.

Fortunately, that's not really true!

Some correspondences are informed by nature. Others are social constructs.

You might see correspondence lists say that gold is associated with wealth, that apples are associated with love, and pink is associated with femininity. These are all social constructs that have nothing to do with the natural qualities of these things.

Other correspondences are informed by nature, however. Green is associated with life because healthy leaves are typically green. Hot peppers are associated with pain and torment because capsaicin produces a burning sensation.

(This isn't to say that social construct correspondences are all inherently bad, or even lesser. But it's good to be mindful of the differences, because it makes it easier to figure out what you can change and mess around with, and how!)

Even when correspondences are informed by nature, they can still be subjective.

The world is full of vastly different ecosystems, climates, and geological structures. Different regions have their own plants and animals. And even within your own region, you'll find that nature lends to many different correspondences for the same thing. Hot peppers might be orange or red, but so are many sweet fruits. Water can nurture life, or it can drown it.

Some people who acknowledge this will say that it's all about intent, but I personally believe it's a bit more about context. Just look at at the infamous children's hospital with the red path on the floor, and how the it creates an unnerving atmosphere despite whatever "positive connotations" red can have. I think if you're trying to figure out what to put in your spell, thinking contextually can help you make appropriate decisions.

In any case, I do think it's important to lean toward correspondences that have meaning to you. What some ancient guy who lived and died on the other side of the planet thought doesn't override your lived reality and your cultural experiences.

If you want to really learn correspondences, observe the world around you!

Correspondence lists can be good references, but they don't really help you develop a proper understanding. To do this, pay attention to plants, stones, colors, shapes, etc. and ask yourself:

Where do they turn up naturally?

How do they behave? What do they do?

Where and how do people use them, and what are they associated with in these contexts?

Where are things often grouped with other things? What is the significance of these groupings?

(If you keep a Book of Shadows or other magical journal, I recommend writing down your findings!)

So yeah, that's the basics on magical correspondences. They can look a little intimidating at first, but they're actually a lot more simple and straightforward than you might realize.

Happy witchin'!

[farfromstrange]

Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?��� he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say. 

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him. 

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 

[oneofthosebells]

Thinking about ordinary.

Particularly in the context of 'Wille will never be able to lead an ordinary/normal life' (true) 'and therefore the ending doesn't work because abdicating doesn't actually solve his problems' (oof...I see where you're coming from but I've got to strongly disagree).

[Yes, I know it's not technically abdication, it's just a convenient shorthand!]

Wille will never be able to lead an ordinary life if by ordinary you mean a life like Simon would have led if they'd never met. He'll always be the son of a monarch, he'll always have been famous since birth, he'll always be ridiculously wealthy and privileged. But would he eventually be able to lead an 'ordinary' life by the standards of any privileged trust fund baby whose parent is a major public figure? Yeah, I think so.

There's a world of difference between being famous/wealthy/privileged but able to choose how to live your life - including the ability to choose a very private life if you want one - and being the literal head of state with absolutely no choice in the matter.

And yeah, I'm thinking about this because of all the footage of Harry and Meghan and their slightly odd pseudo-royal tour on the news. Which isn't a dig at H&M, I have no strong feelings about them one way or the other, but I've seen them used as a stick to beat the YR ending with ('it'll never work, look at Harry and Meghan'!). But Wille and Simon aren't Harry and Meghan.

And I don't just mean because they're fictional and H&M aren't, though actually you know what, that's important - it means that if I want to headcanon they can lead a fairly normal life once Wille's out of the line of succession then I can, nothing's stopping me. But also I cannot see Wilmon ever choosing to stay in the limelight by doing a tell-all Oprah interview, or a book or a podcast or a documentary, and I definitely can't see them doing a semi-royal tour where cameras follow them everywhere and where they sit in chairs(/thrones) and look awkward while people perform traditional dances for them. (Again, no shade! The circumstances and the people are very different, that's my point.)

I could see Wille going into academia or writing books about poetry, or maybe he owns a horse sanctuary and gets Sara to run it, or he co-owns a restaurant with Felice. Or all of the above, why not. He probably can't ever go and get a 'normal' job, but he won't need one - he'd have plenty of money to live on if he's living a fairly humble, non-extravagant lifestyle, and again, he's fictional, I can believe he'd happily do that with Simon if I want to.

Maybe they'd live abroad for a while to escape the attention - because with the best will in the world, the Scandinavian monarchies aren't worldwide famous in the way Diana and her children are, and Wille's video/speech/abdication would be a five minute wonder and probably quickly forgotten outside Sweden.

This is getting longer than I meant it to so I'll leave it there without going into Simon and how he fits into it all, because that's another three thousand words lol. Maybe I'll do a part 2. 😂

[sexhaver]

What makes Jeweled Bird so bad?

first, some context: wayyyyy back in the stone ages when dinosaurs walked the earth and MTG first released, it was envisioned as less of a serious competitive card game people would explicitly try to minmax and more of a fun little diversion for your D&D group to play while you wait for Jared to get off his shift so you can actually start your campaign. this explains a lot of design choices that seem backasswards 30 years later. for instance, yes, Richard Garfield knew Black Lotus was unbelievably busted, but figured it was fine to print since it's not like people would do anything crazy like buy up hundreds of packs/hunt down singles on a secondary marketplace and play the game competitively for cash prizes.

one of the wackiest outcomes of this design philosophy was the concept of "playing for ante", an optional game mode/modifier where each player would begin the game by putting the top card of their library directly into "the ante", a pile of cards off to the side. whoever won the game won permanent, real-life ownership of all cards in the ante. basically "playing for keeps" but in a TCG instead of with Pogs or those weird tiny cardboard Beyblade tops that came in chip bags.

as you might guess from just reading that description, it was pretty wildly unpopular with most of the playerbase at the time and only got less popular as time went on. people didn't want to risk losing their cards, especially once the game became established and some of those cards were worth, like, actual amounts of money. and then there was the variance - it was entirely possible for you to ante up your only copy of an expensive card (meaning you were even less likely to win because now you can't draw it) while your opponent anted a basic land.

partially due to this, but mostly due to WOTC lawyers learning about the concept of "gambling laws" and WOTC PR learning about the optics of getting children into gambling, ante was officially removed from all sanctioned MTG tournaments very early into the game's lifespan (in fact i think this might have been enshrined into law before the actual first official tournament) and mostly memoryholed from the comprehensive rules, outside of section 407, which leads with this literal legal disclaimer:

there were 9 cards printed before this that explicitly reference "the ante" and do something unique to the cards in it. all of these cards have been errata'd to include the rules text "remove this card from your deck before playing if you're not playing for ante" and banned from LITERALLY ALL SANCTIONED FORMATS, including Vintage, the format whose entire appeal is "we never ban anything" (laughs in Lurrus).

okay so with the context out of the way we can start getting into why Jeweled Bird specifically is A Bad Card

first, the obvious: it's an ante card, which means you can't play it unless you're playing for ante, and if you ask anyone at your LGS to play for ante they will try to surreptitiously call the nearest retirement home to report an escapee from their memory care unit. so right off the bat it's quite literally unplayable as an MTG card (ante doesn't even work right in cube drafts, usually the last solace of jank-ass mechanics), which is not a great start.

now that we've established that ante cards are bad because they're effectively banned everywhere, let's assume we're living in some bizarro land where you've managed to convince a handful of friends to play in your personal MTG tournament bracket that allows ante. even then, all but one (don't worry we'll get to that one in a second) of the banned "ante cards" are just. unplayably bad. like absolute dogshit.

ok actually you know what i hadn't looked over all the ante cards in a while before typing up this post and now that i have i think Jeweled Bird is arguably the third or fourth best one out of the lot, and it's STILL unplayably bad in a modern context. it's effectively 1 colorless mana to draw a card, which is theoretically decent in some colors nowadays if you squint but would have actually been notably good back in its heyday. it actually gets pretty close to what WOTC was trying to go for with most of these ante card designs: you get a powerful effect (card draw for 1 colorless mana in an era when even blue had to jump through hoops for a rate that good outside of Ancestral Recall), but at the cost of adding something to the ante, but since the effect is so powerful, you should ideally be able to win the game off of it and completely negate the downside of adding your stuff to the ante.

you know what, fuck it, let's just go through the other ante cards from worst to best:

this card looks absolutely batshit until you get to the last sentence and realize it's effectively 6 mana to force your opponent to ante a card. if you spend 6 mana doing effectively nothing, you are not winning the game or that ante

this one is this low because in 99% of circumstances it's 10 mana over two turns to burn your opponent for 10. however, it takes the edge over Amulet of Quoz because 1. it just bypasses the ante zone entirely to literally steal the card directly, outcome of the game be damned 2. if your opponent has 9 or less life, they have to either let you steal their card or concede on the spot (which means they lose their ante) and 3. if i'm reading this ruling correctly you can set up the 9-or-less-life scenario with a TOKEN COPY of Bronze Tablet and give them a literal bar napkin with a doodle on it in exchange for their judge promo foil Elesh Norn:

so for 6 mana, you can heal yourself back to full at the cost of anteing an additional card. if that was all this card did, it would still be pretty bad, but the icing on this shitcake is that your opponent can just. also do that. but without spending their entire turn to cast a 6 mana spell. so now you're both on equal footing lifewise, but they have their entire turn to gain tempo advantage after you spent your turn healing them. and you gave them another one of your cards once you inevitably lose because of this. i guess theoretically you could run it in a super heavy control deck that aims to win via mill as a safety valve against aggro? idk man

this card effectively does nothing, but doing nothing for 3 mana is still an improvement over "doing nothing for 6 mana", "doing 10 damage for 10 mana over two turns", and "helping your opponent for 6 mana". i guess if you're really confident that your deck can win anyways (perhaps because of another card on this list) you could use this to force your opponent to ante another card for you to win? mostly this one is this high up here because "if the opponent doesn't concede the game immediately" is the funniest possible opening to a MTG card's rules text. like that's always true. you could add that to quite literally every card ever printed and it would change nothing other than making the game way funnier

okay so this is a three mana 1/1 with an ability that costs three MORE mana to activate that effectively just makes your opponent ante a card. i know it looks like it destroys and then literally steals an artifact, which would actually be a pretty good effect since it impacts the board (something none, but the entire thing is countered by anteing a card so that's what's gonna happen every time. at least this one can chump block

okay now we're starting to get into cards that at least make you think a little bit before deciding they suck (Jeweled Bird would go around here)

this scores higher than Timmerian Fiends for several reasons. obviously, a 4 mana 3/3 is a much better rate than a 3 mana 1/1, and the sac ability being free (other than a tap) makes it a lot more usable. the effect is even debateably good in red specifically: either it "draws" (literally legally steals irl) you a card, or it does 10 burn to the opponent's face. however, it does lose points due to the part where you, uh, have to give it away after using it once, win or lose. basically this is like Bronze Tablet but 6 mana cheaper and on a body that can actually theoretically do something. also lol at the "or conceding game" clause like Demonic Attorney, i really want to start seeing that wording on every card ever printed

now this might seem similar to Demonic Attorney at first glance, but the Oracle text makes it make more sense: "You own target card in the ante. Exchange that card with the top card of your library." notably, like Efreet and Tablet, this swap in ownership happens regardless of the outcome of the game, and unlike those two cards, you don't have to trade Darkpact itself for the card you're stealing. stealing your opponent's card out of the ante does mean that now both of the cards in there belong to you, meaning you have twice as much to lose, but hey, you just stole (and got to draw and cast, lol) your opponent's shit. "do what you must, i have already won" type beat

as powerful as Darkpact is, it's still only the second best ante card, and it is not even in the same zip code as the first best. ever heard of a little card named Ancestral Recall? draws 3 cards for one mana? and that's such a busted effect you're only allowed to legally run one copy in the one format it isn't explicitly banned in?

hahahahahahahahahaha holy shit sorry every time i remember this card i cackle at it a bit. what do you MEAN "discard your hand and draw 7 for 1 mana"?? discarding is an UPSIDE these days! people have unironically run One With Nothing, which is this card except for all the words after "discard your current hand". that "add the first drawn to the ante" bit might as well be flavor text because if you manage to lose after casting this then your deck was never even theoretically capable of winning in the first place. jesus christ.

[nobody-viii]

The Turks - Context Clues (The Kids Are Alright)

@accala posted an excellent inquisitive post about the Turks here and their motivations and to add some The Kids Are Alright: A Turks Side Story book context, imma leave this here. Couldn't find the quote I was looking for, but here's some things I found interesting. NOTE: I feel like Advent Children did the Turks a little dirty, but I really loved the banter as a kid. This book has some of the same campy shortcomings, but take it or leave it, here's what I found.

1.) The Healen Lodge from Advent Children was an R&R facility for Shinra, universally accepted as the worst one by employees. The Turks/Rufus chose it for its tactical advantages, but it also shows how far back on their heels they were. "The Shinra empire had ruled most of the world up until two short years ago, and it didn't sit right with Elena that the company president had to live in such a desolate place. Yes, medical treatment was available, security was way better away from the city, and the commute was only two hours by car; the staff could have had it much worse." - pg. 14

2.) The abandoned rec hall was being used by Shinra as a lab to convert SOLDIER stimulants into geostigma treatments. The project was Elena's idea, with the resulting medication being donated free of charge to city medical professionals and the WRO. (pp. 16-17)

3.) Reno & Rude were sent into the city to retrieve a stolen item from a teenager (read the book for details I'm too lazy to go into it), and when he started crying and shaking, Reno and Rude switched to a new script. "Aw, look. The kid's really scared." The redhead sounded sympathetic now. "That's what we came to do," the bald one pointed out. And: "Now, we put on our best tough-guys acts on the way over, so we can't just leave without roughing anyone up," said the redhead. "Our job is to teach a lesson to anyone who tries to mess with us." I was still scrambling for an explanation to give them. "Y-you mean, kill me?" was what came out instead. My voice even cracked for good measure. "That's one way to teach a lesson. But we're trying to strike a balance for Shinra, here. We want everyone to love us and maybe be a little bit scared. Killing you would have the opposite effect." (pg. 23) Reno opted to punch the kid in the face, then tell him to keep his chin up, so...balance? Sure. Shinra is, at this point, technically trying to figure out their PR while simultaneously leaning on old habits. Also, the kid calls Reno and Rude a knife and a fork and I thought that was funny.

4.) Reno is described as someone who looked like he 'turned delinquent as a teenager and never grew out of it, like those kids in the Sector Eight warehouses who I still hated and admired in equal measure.' (pg. 23)

5.) Elena roughs up one of the protagonists, but reins herself in when context is presented: She'd paid a visit intending to break Fabio's dominant arm, but when she saw him fight back to protect the child, she changed her plan. Her objective was to punish a thief, not deprive a child with geostigma of his only guardian. (pg. 47)

6.) Reno calls a doctor for the guy he roughed up. Kyrie nodded. "I figured, these guys must have phones, so I asked them to call Dr. Drake. 'Evan's in a bad way 'cause you guys beat him up,' I told them. And guess what? They said they don't know any Evan. So I lost it and said, 'Yeah, 'cause Evan's the one you whaled on when you mixed him up with Fabio. You owe him..... So then the redhead--his name's Reno--he called a doctor. Not Dr. Drake, he said, but a good one..." (pg. 55)

7.) Evan (the protagonist) is trying to work out who would be the easiest Turk to try to forge an alliance with and we get a glimpse of how the Turks are perceived by outsiders (Tseng is an unknown entity to Evan at this time): The most dangerous one was probably the lady Turk who went after Fabio. A close second would be the slab of muscle out there, Rude. Maybe the redhead Reno was more on our level. I thought back to my first impression of him--the grown-up teenage delinquent. Guys like that generally looked out for their own. A sense of solidarity. There had to be an angle I could work. (pg. 57)

8.) There's a whole scene where Evan and Kyrie try to ambush Rude. They choke him, break a chair over him, kick, scratch, the whole shebang and he just brushes himself off and manhandles them to a car (which made me laugh).

9.) Reno and Rude take the protagonists towards Healen in a truck and there's a few moments I found interesting. "So anyway..." Reno was looking at me in the rearview mirror. "Sorry about the shiner, dude. We totally did think you were Fabio. But y'know, I'm impressed you stayed mum and protected your buddy," Reno went on. "Even if you were about to piss your pants." (lol) Then, "Some of us have been slower to to adapt to the new way of doing things," Reno continued. "How many Turks are left?" asked Kyrie. "Can't tell you. That's Shinra's most closely guarded secret." "It's just you three, isn't it?" "Not telling." "But I'm right." "Yeah, you keep thinking that." (pg.63) Rude sleeps through the majority of the ride despite Reno trying to keep him awake. They talk quite a bit about Aerith, because Kyrie and Reno both knew her. Reno warns them not to get mixed up with Shinra's science department.

10.) Evan gets introduced to Rufus for the first time after believing the former president has been dead for two years and Tseng finally exists in this book for two seconds. "He's alive...?" Evan was still speaking to Reno. "I am. The decoy who took my place is not," Rufus replied. "You're a candidate for the position--and from what I can see, you'll do." Evan's jaw dropped, and he stared agape at Reno, then Rufus, then Tseng. Tseng looked down at the ground, trying to hide his laughter. Evan's description of Tseng: He looked like a Turk, too. The very definition of one, in fact. Reno and Rude both showed an awkward humanity--well, sporadically in the latter's case--but this guy was pure ice.

11.) An ill-conceived escape attempt by Evan and crew sees Rufus temporarily kidnapped, as Tseng and Elena are investigating an explosion. Reno and Rude try to stop it, but are ordered back. "Reno, stay back!" Reno obediently halted. I had expected to see fury in his eyes, but all I say was sorrow. Surprisingly, I felt a pang in my chest, too. But there was no other way. I pulled Kyrie's knife from my pocket and opened it--a sad, flimsy little blade, but it could still slice open a throat. "Hey, don't be stupid." I ignored Reno and held the knife to Rufus Shinra's neck. Then, "Reno, take Rude and check on the lab." Suddenly Rufus was giving orders. "Tell Tseng not to get involved here." "Wait, what? Boss, are you sure?!" "Don't worry. I'm as interested in staying alive as you are." Reno reluctantly descended the stairs, glancing over his shoulder almost every step. (pg. 77)

12.) Reno and Rude talk about family and have a lil tiff. "If I found out about a brother I'd never seen, I'd make way more of an effort than those two," Reno insisted. "That right?" Rude said. My colleagues are all I need. "You're not much into family, eh, Rude?" "I'm a Turk," Rude said flatly. "Coolheaded and cold-blooded." He turned and headed for the truck. "Hey, Rude. You pissed at me?" Reno called, an unabashed whine. "C'mon, man. You can't cold-zone me now. Tseng and Elena aren't answering my calls, and the boss just tells me to finish the monument. I know they're starting something awesome without us. We're outcasts! Me and you, you and me. If we don't stick together, then what?" Rude looked back. "Tseng isn't answering calls?" (pg. 94) Reno goes off several times throughout this book about how he'd act if he got the chance to meet family, which makes me wonder about him. "So how'd it feel, meeting your brother?" "I don't think it's sunk in yet." "Well, it's a process, I guess," said Reno. "But you gotta visit once in a while, you know? Then you'll get to figure each other out. Break the ice." (pg. 97)

13.) Reno and Rude are actually partially responsible for the monument in the city. This lil bit kinda gives weight to how long they've been in Shinra. Evan was one of those types who wasn't quite grounded in reality but was full of bravado. A show-off. A scared kid determined to buck people's expectations by pretending he had no fear. And if he kept it up, he was gonna do something stupid enough to get himself killed. Both Reno and Rude had known too many kids like that, from rookie Turks to infantrymen to SOLDIER operatives wet behind the ears from mako infusion tanks.

14.) Reno & Rude get amused by Kyrie treating them like they're not scary. The concern over redemption makes an appearance. "Now what?" Rude stepped closer from his vantage point. Apparently, he'd been watching the whole time. He was pretending he didn't care, but inwardly, Reno was convinced, Rude was intrigued by every act of the farce. Which only made the whole thing funnier. "She said she's hungry," said Reno. "So she's gonna grab something to eat." "It's like she's never heard of the Turks. It's almost refreshing," Rude remarked. So this is what happens when Shinra wins hearts and minds. Reno chuckled again but then remembered that the girl was still afraid of them. He'd seen the goosebumps on her arms. Her toothless threats were her way of gauging the danger he and Rude presented. Evan might trust them, but not Kyrie. Despite what Rude said, she knew what they were and what they were capable of. "You know," said Rude. "She reminds me of Aerith." "Yeah, I was thinkin' that too." Maybe helping them out will redeem us, at least a little bit, he thought. A guy can hope. (pg. 106)

15.) Shinra's resources are thin...and that chopper that ate it in AC was one of the last ones left (cue gross sobbing because in the words of a certain Puppy, Shinra makes good stuff). No one knew exactly how many helicopters the Shinra Company used to have. Within a half a year of Meteorfall, many of them had been looted. Accidents, mechanicals, and other circumstances had taken out others, and now Rufus Shinra and the Turks were left with only three. But even with so few, it was a constant battle to keep them in working order. Also, Rude has mechanical experience and is the one on repairs.

16.) A civilian points out the flaws in Reno's hopes for the future of the Turks. "Well, to be honest, maybe my opinion of you guys is changin'." Doyle looked at Reno again with a level stare. "You're up to better things." Reno couldn't help averting his eyes. Unless it came from a fellow Turk, approval tended to make him uncomfortable. "The monument and the medicine are only one step, you know. Just wait. It might take a while, but Shinra's gonna get off the ground again. Rise again, you hear?" That general idea had been floating around in his head for some time. This was the first time he'd said it aloud. "How?" Doyle scowled, his thick eyebrows lowering. Reno cursed himself for the thoughtless comment. "Can't tell you." "Yeah, I figured. But no one is going to let a violent regime lord it over them again. Not anymore. You tell your president that."

17.) Tseng and Elena bring up the notion of inviting old Turks back into the fold. "For any one person, finding it (Jenova's head) may well seem like a futile task. But there is still a nonzero chance. Either way, staying in contact with our agents and meeting regularly are essential to maintaining organizational cohesion." " But how many...?" Elena glanced around and spoke in a stage whisper. "How many former Turks can we expect to help us?" In his mind, Tseng saw the faces of the old Turks, his former subordinates. Of those, he had made contact with-- They get interrupted and Elena rushes off to investigate something. Tseng watched his operative go with a wry smile. Below the hem of her sundress, old scars marked her legs. Once you joined the Turks, you were in for life. Even those who tried to get out and build new lives could be summoned back with a single phone call. Maybe it was a cruel call to make, Tseng thought. and he sighed.

18.) Reno & Rude defy a direct order from Tseng. "Dumbass," Reno muttered. "What are you waiting for? Engage!" Tseng's command rang from the speakers. "Evan's down there," Rude answered in Reno's stead. "He's already done for," said Tseng. "Fire." "No can do," said Reno. "Reno." Tseng made his name a sharp rebuke. "He's our friend." "Fine. Let me briefly explain--" Tseng's voice abruptly cut out. "Radio trouble," Rude mumbled, his hand drifting away from the radio's master switch.

There are a lot of quirky, funny, violent, or neato moments I didn't list, so check out the book if you want more insight. Hope this gave you some headcanon fodder.