#the german version of it’s about time isn’t on there

[juniorsailmakermattcruse]

I have started watching the german dub of phineas and ferb for fun (or should I say phineas und ferb)

- the va for german candace is pretty good. however I’m fairly sure she is also the va for stacy so whenever they’re together it sounds like she’s talking to herself. she does a good job with the craziness though

- german phineas is kind of annoying I don’t much care for his voice

- german ferb sounds nothing like the og

- german doof is good. idk I don’t have anything to say about him. I prefer the english voice of course (probably cuz I’m just used to it) and I think the spanish dub does a better job at sounding like the og but it’s not bad

- german baljeet sounds exactly the same

- I like the dubs of the songs. they even dubbed the quirky worky song which like they didn’t have to do that but it’s cool

- “perry das schnabeltier” is very fun to say

- the episode titles are mostly way different from the english titles. like for example “don’t even blink” is “der unsichtbare beweis” which translated to english means “the invisible proof.” kind of interesting

- update apparently they changed the name of gimmelshtump to “dunkeldorf” that’s hilarious

[cursecuelebre]

Top Recommendations for Norse Pagans that aren’t Problematic.

There is a lot of books by people who are racist and part of far right side of Heathenry and I’m going to try my best and list the books I have that helped me on my path that isn’t problematic and have questionable intentions. Books and YouTube channels.

Anglo Saxon Socerery and Magic by Alaric Albertson. He is very knowledgeable in his work and path especially on runes which includes the rune poem to make your own interpretation and witchcraft side of things. He even talks about the Elves which I appreciate because not a lot of Norse authors talk about them. It’s more Germanic than Norse but I can’t see any problem adopting certain aspects since they are very similar. I will say he does take himself a bit serious at times but his information is so good and worthwhile. I have not read his first book on Travels through middle earth but it focus on more the pagan side.

Poetic Edda and Prose Edda: it’s what every Norse pagan needs. It’s the foundation of Norse paganism not bibles but myths and tales that can help along our journey. There is tons of translations, but my favorites are Dr. Jackson Crawford Poetic Edda and Anthony Fawkes Prose Edda. But look into other sagas as well like Volsung which Dr Jackson Crawford also wrote about.

Beowulf. More of a Germanic tale but again includes it has roots of Germanic sorcery, traditions, religion like the concept of Wyrd (Fate), the runes, and values within his society like loyalty and mythical creatures. Again there is many translations even Jrr Tolkien did a incompleted version of Beowulf but I think Tom Shippey finished that version I could be wrong. Nonetheless explore more than one, the oneI have is by Seamus Heaney.

Grimm Fairy Tales this mostly German Folklore but it’s still quite important to learn about in German folk magic, creatures and entities in German folklore tends to be very real to the practitioner in their spellwork.

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith a very progressive outlook in Norse paganism, he talks about creating communities in Norse paganism and calling out and denouncing Nazis in the community how Norse Paganism is inclusive and how to be open to all types of people. But he has a beginner approach to the deities, beliefs, values within Norse paganism.

Look into a lot of academic sources that’s where you will find a lot of information on Norse paganism and religions.

Tacitus Germania - A Roman historian talking about the Germanic tribes their culture and customs.

Saxo Grammaticus history of the Danes

The Viking Way by Neil Price it goes good in depths about magic in Scandinavia like Seidh

Dictionary of Norse Mythology a quick guide to northern myths, if you are trying to find a specific god and you don’t have time to look up in a book it’s in there with great information to each one.

Children of Ask and Elm: History of Vikings by Neil Price on Scandinavian culture during the Viking age

Some YouTube Channels

The Norse Witch: Bente lives in Germany and their channel encompasses all of Norse paganism more around magic. They do interviews with other Norse witches of folk magic like Icelandic and Danish. Even gives good book recommendations and advice on general spellwork as well!.

Dr Jackson Crawford he is an author but he also has a YouTube channel. He was a professor in Colorado on Norse culture, mythology, and language and now is a full time YouTuber. He did a series of videos on the runes which are more historically accurate. Discusses the myths and the language and what do they mean. Jackson Crawford isn’t a Norse pagan nor he doesn’t care if you are one but just letting you know he isn’t coming from a pagan perspective.

The Welsh Viking also like Jackson Crawford but still has really great knowledge on Viking culture.

De Spökenkyker who is a channel that focus on German Folk magic living in Germany who is a practicing German Folk Witch.

Please feel free to add on any recommendations that are helpful and useful to the Norse pagan Community!

[calder]

In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

[ivoovu]

*cough*

Mic Tap

A PSA to all König/Krueger writers:

Hello, I‘m Voov, and I‘m a native German.

And let me just clarify that I do not mean any of this in a offensive matter, and that none of these things are 'annoying' or 'bothersome' to me as a German, which I‘m sure other Germans would agree with me. This isn‘t something that‘s making it impossible for us to read blurbs/fics/etc., however I do know that some writers want to write in foreign languages as accurately and realistically as possible, so this is for those. And for everyone else who‘s just interested, of course

🤍🍪

1 - What I often read is "Exemplary Sentence I can‘t think of something right now but it‘s in English, ja?"

We don’t end our sentences with "[…], ja?". Sometimes, yes, fair, sometimes we do so, but it’s on the rarer side in my opinion. Majority of the time we use this at the end of our sentences:

"[…], nicht?" = "[…], no?" (please don‘t use "[…], nein?" for this one)

or:

"[…], nh?" = honestly this one can be used for a lot of things, it can be used for "[…], no?", "[…], don‘t you think so?" or how the Brits use 'innit', like you‘re trying to prove a point.

(Translation for "[…], don‘t you think so?" = "[…], denkst du nicht auch so?")

I understand that when you type in a "[…], ja?" you‘re translating from the words' English equivalent which is "[…], yeah?", but again, it‘s more common to use "[…], nicht?" instead.

If you use a good mix of "[…], ja?", "[…], nicht?" and "[…], nh?" (and any other word you might want to add to the end of your sentence) instead of sticking to one throughout an entire fic, you‘ll make us Germans a bit happier.

🍙⌛️

2- If you‘re using longer sentences, and the sentences are directed at the Reader, you should clarify beforehand if the Reader is masc or fem. Why? Because a lot of words are gendered in German, so the way they’re conjugated tell us the Gender of the Person:

English: "My perfect Partner."

-> Gender neutral, the reader could be a Man, Woman, in between, on the outside, an Alien race, whatever

If you type this into google translate you get: "Mein perfekter Partner."

-> Masculine. It‘s an instant tell that the reader is a dude.

The female version would be: "Meine perfekte Partnerin."

-> Now we know instantly that this is feminine.

There is no gender neutral, German simply isn’t a language that works that way.

Can you write full sentences without using anything gendered, at all? Yes, absolutely, here‘s an example:

English: "Oh God I love you, I don‘t know what I would do without you. You‘re my everything, I‘ll do anything and everything for you."

German: "Oh Gott ich liebe dich, ich weiß nicht was ich ohne dich machen würde. Du bist mein ein und alles, ich würde alles für dich tun."

This is completely gender neutral because while typing I actively made sure to avoid using anything gendered. But I understand that this is a extremely difficult task to do so for those who don’t speak German, so if you can pull it off, you just earned my highest form of respect, but this isn’t something that us Germans expect of you as a Writer, this is just something I wanted to draw your attention to.

🐰🧳

My point is: If you do any of those two, we Germans aren’t crying about it. We won‘t stop reading the fic, we won‘t bitch about it or send you hate-mail.

We just notice it, correct the sentence in our mind, and some of us will type out the correct sentence as a comment.

I sadly don‘t have any websites that can help with the gendered words, and google translate sucks anyways, so I truly don‘t have any type of direction I could point you writers to, sorry :/

But I have said this before and I‘ll say it again, as many times as I have to: I am absolutely willing to help with the German parts, my dm‘s are always open, no I won’t think you’re annoying or abusing anything by asking me to check the German sentences you might‘ve used in your works, no I‘m not saying any of this out of courtesy, no I‘m not lying, no we don’t have to know each other, no you don’t have to deal with chit chat you can immediately hit me up with 'Hey how is this sentence?', yes I am being serious. In doubt, read this paragraph again and again.

🐚🪵

[ninyard]

The monsters and their ability to pick up languages is so interesting to me so here’s some random HCs about monsters + languages that are definitely not original at all:

- Neil learned French in Europe before him and Mary found their way to French-speaking Canada. He essentially had to semi-adopt the language discrepancies while he was there, and even though his fluency is in French from France, sometimes he messes up and pronounces things weirdly or differently (and Kevin frequently makes fun of him for it)

- Kevin has some rusty Japanese that he was forced to learn growing up. He can understand it pretty well, and can somewhat speak it to a lower level, but he can’t read or write it. He’s not fluent, and probably couldn’t hold a conversation with a native speaker, but he could understand his Japanese counterparts in the Nest when he needed to.

- In turn Kevin isn’t able to order in Japanese at a restaurant, but he could explain the rules of Exy to someone fairly coherently if he had to.

- This isn’t an original thought by any means but Neil and Kevin definitely speak in French when they’re by themselves just to make sure they don’t lose it.

- They sometimes make calls to each other on the court in French, and because of this, most of the team picks up very basic calls in French. None of them can actually speak it, but Andrew picks up a little more than the rest, having spent so much time with Kevin. Again, couldn’t hold a conversation, but every now and again he recognises certain words in their conversations.

- Neil is like a walking version of those White Guy Speaks Chinese And Stuns Waitress (he can understand her?!?) polyglot youTube videos. It becomes more of a hobby for him once he’s settled and the FBI are off his back, but the foxes are constantly shocked by how many languages he can speak. He is fluent in English, French, and German of course, with some conversational Spanish, but he can pretty much have a basic interaction in most of the languages of countries he’d been in. His Dutch is the worst, because he could never quite grasp the proper pronunciation of things, but one time he speaks to a waiter in Italian and Andrew can’t believe it.

- (RIP Neil Josten, you would’ve loved duolingo)

- When he goes to the Olympics he’s like a kid in a candy store. It’s like a subconscious bingo game for him to speak to someone from every country at least once.

- Aaron loves listening to music in German. He would definitely drag Nicky to a rave if they ever found themselves in Berlin.

- Katelyn asks him whenever they have their kid if he wants to raise them bilingual, but he decides not to because he only really learned German for Nicky and his brother, and doesn’t really speak it at all after he graduates.

- Neil and Nicky study Spanish together sometimes. It helps Nicky stay close to his roots now that his immediate family is pretty much out of the picture. It means way more to him than Neil even knows.

- Another unoriginal one but Andrew and Neil definitely do learn sign language in the future. I could talk about this one forever.

- When Kevin gets frustrated, he finds it hard to speak ANY language. He messes up words in English, forgets how to say things, and occasionally is the butt of the joke when he combines a French and English word accidentally.

- Kevin watches anime when nobody is around. He thinks dubbed anime is a crime.

- Andrew thinks he’s pretty good at German until he tries to have a conversation with Erik and realises wow native speakers talk a lot faster than we do. You wouldn’t know, because even if he just understands half of a sentence, he can usually piece together what is being said 90% of the time, and he would never admit out loud that he needs Erik to slow down when he’s talking so he can understand him.

- He is, however, REALLY good at accents. He has a talent for speaking gibberish but sounding as if he’s speaking fluent French. It drives Kevin up the wall when he does it, but he also hates when he can’t understand what Kevin and Neil are saying to each other.

And Bonus:

- Jeremy is really bad at accents. He is initially frustrated by Jean and his French, but once he understands that it is Jean’s first language (that the Moriyama’s took from him), he makes an effort to try and learn. He’s just really, really bad at it. Jean cringes every time he tries, because he speaks with a heavy American accent. Jean is not pretentious about his language, but he is, at the end of the day, French. So when Jeremy says bonjour in that hideous so-Cal accent, it’s in part endearing that he’s trying, but mostly like nails on a chalkboard.

[lxvvie]

This is inspired by an experience I had during my exchange year in America: So, I’m German and it was nearing October at that time so people constantly asked me about Oktoberfest (more than usual anyway) and where my Dirndl is. I never did and never will own one because I don’t care about Oktoberfest and there’s not really another occasion where you can wear it.

Anyway, I can definitely see König being subjected to those kind of questions. Very much will deck the next person that asks why he isn’t wearing his Lederhose.

Oof, I can imagine that getting very annoying after a while. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed your year in America!

Thanks to this ask, I now have a mental image of König getting fed up and deciding to troll people in response. He actually dons Lederhosen (the SHORT kind, too, so you can see the gloriousness of his long, hairy, BEEFY legs because isn't that what those bastards wanted?!?!?!), keeps the shirt on his face, and makes it as awkward as possible for the brave souls who ask.

He may or may not wear a variant during missions to psyche mfs out.

Then there's the Halloween version...

Just imagine encountering this big cryptid Königmanjaro of a man in Lederhosen in the wild and... I don't even fucking know lmaooo.

[dancingtotuyo]

Kryptonite | Dave York x Reader | One Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT/Mature

Summary: Running into Dave York changes your life and unleashes a new part of yourself.

Inspired by Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Tags: dark!Dave York, infidelity, Germany, song fic

Warnings: infidelity, violence and descriptions of violence, death (not Dave or reader), descriptions of blood, murder, self defense, explicit smut (p in v), oral sex (both m & f receiving), heavy groping, choking, smacking/hitting in a sexual manner, knife play, power dynamics, use of “daddy” in a sexual manner (minimal), consensual sex, possible dub con, cream pie

Notes: I wrote this one for the LOML @janaispunk for Christmas 🫶, though you won’t find it filled with Christmas festivities! Huge shout out to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for listening to my ideas, reading through it, and being an overall huge encourager!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO WARNINGS ON THIS ONE

Words: 7160

THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND DARK THEMES. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR THOSE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

“I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.”

Dave York isn’t a bad guy. If one were to give him a chance, he would explain how he’s actually one of the good guys. He’s simply standing up for those who have been wronged by the fucked up system that abandoned the ones who do the dirty work. It’s all conjecture. How he rationalizes it all away. How he lets himself sleep at night, and go home to his wife and beautiful daughters. He does this for them. He isn’t a bad guy.

Yet, even he starts to see through his bullshit. He won’t admit it, but it’s getting harder to sleep at night. Tonight is one of those nights. That’s how he finds himself wandering the streets of a German city he can’t remember the name of.

The air is just verging on chilly, the breeze whipping at his typically well-kempt hair. He usually keeps to the shadows when he’s managing his side business, worried about being picked up on a camera, but it’s late now. He keeps out of the street lights, the stars shielded by the light pollution.

He inhales deeply. This time tomorrow he’ll be on a flight back to the States and slide into bed next to his wife. He’ll wake up, make lunch for the girls, and take them to school. The perfect all-American family. Dave loves them. His girls are his world. He is doing this for them. Every smile and giggle makes this all worth it. Alice and Molly deserve the world. Sometimes, he wonders if his wife knows. Carol hasn’t said anything, but sometimes he catches her just staring at him. Logic says she just loves him. How many times early on in their life together had he done the same thing? How long has it been since he looked at her with that awe?

If he’s honest, Dave doesn’t give his marriage much thought anymore. It’s something that’s just there like two planets orbiting each other but never intersecting. It’s something that’s just part of the persona of Dave York. The version of him his friends and family know. He is starting to wonder if that man still exists. He’s found himself feeling freer during his “work trips” than he does at home.

If it weren’t for his girls…

Dave can’t finish the thought as he collides with a woman in a blue dress and billowing feather boas wrapped around her neck. You.

“Oh shit!” Dave’s hands shoot out, steadying your form, one on each shoulder.

You let out a soft snort quickly covering it with a giggle. “Oh my god.” You try to sober but fail before another giggle takes over. You buzz with the carefree energy of someone a couple drinks into the evening but not wasted.

Any words forming in Dave’s head die there. Your eyes sparkle with mischief. Your smile leaves him stunned. He’s seen his fair share of women even as a married man, but never crossed the boundary of infidelity. Dave doesn’t label what is about to happen as infidelity because right now he isn’t Dave York from Arlington, Virginia, father to two and husband. Right now, he’s Dave York private gun for hire, or Patrick Smith born in Pennsylvania if you looked at his passport.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dave’s hands don’t move from your shoulders. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Dave flashes a smile, the same one he used to pick up Carol years ago, but she’s the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I should be more aware of my surroundings. Especially with such a beautiful woman about.”

Your cheeks flush with heat. He has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not from the alcohol in your system. Dave has never been above sweet-talking to get his way during his time with the agency. “You’re American.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dave winks. You laugh. Dave swears he could listen to that sound every day if given the chance. “But are you with anyone? It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out here all alone.”

You tilt your head to the side, life glowing in your eyes. Whether you’re always like this or it’s all alcohol-induced, Dave doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. He needs to know.

“And I’m supposed to trust you, Mr. America.”

He chuckles, looking up at the sky for a moment before bringing his gaze back to you. He can’t stop taking you in. You feel like a breath of fresh air in his stifling life. He smiles, the first time he’s felt fully himself in possibly years. “My name is Dave.”

You glance between his hand and his face, sussing out if he is trustworthy. He seems so, comes across as genuine. He’s a bit older than you, but handsome nonetheless with big brown eyes and the sincerity of a well-raised child.

You inhale deeply, choosing to be a little wreckless for once and jump head first into something. What’s the worst that could happen? You take his hand.

“I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon.”

It’s probably a stupid choice, but Dave gives you his number. His real number. He doesn't have enough time to see you again before he leaves Germany and he isn’t ready to let this go yet. He escorts you safely to your apartment, chatting idly over the 10-minute walk and the 30 minutes you spend on the front stoop. As he goes to leave, you stand on tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. In return, he pushes you against the front door, hands roaming up your sternum. You giggle at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hand him your phone.

Dave has a second number. He could’ve given you that one. He probably should have, but he wants easier access. He risks it. Dave is not a careless man, but he leans into the easiness of it in the moment. He kisses you again before leaving, much more chastely this time. He promises to see you next time he’s in town. He tells you he does business in Germany often. It won’t be long.

His veins buzzed with electricity the whole walk back to his apartment, his body alive in a way that feels almost supernatural. As he crosses the threshold, his phone pings with a text from an unknown number. Dave knows who it is before he looks at the text.

Over the next two weeks, Dave finds himself instantly reaching for his phone with each ping. The time difference is a pain in the ass but sometimes works in Dave’s favor. Like when Carol is sound asleep and you’re wide awake across the sea.

When the call comes through from a contact that they’re ready to move in on a target in Germany, Dave almost jumps up in celebration. He’s never hit the tarmac with his bags packed so fast. He tacks on a couple extra days to visit you.

Those extra days can’t come soon enough. He always prides himself on his ability to compartmentalize. He can tune out the rest of the world, get a job done with the precision of the assassin he is, and return to life as if nothing happened, but this time, he finds himself rushing through the process, eager to get to the finish line, eager to get to you.

However, when the night of the hit comes, he slips right into Dave York The Killer, cold, heartless, robotic. The crew is smaller this trip, the target not as high profile, but still a big payout. He forces himself to stay steady, forces himself not to speed through his progressions. The team doesn’t notice a difference in him. He takes that as a good sign. The target is asleep, alone, thank god.

Dave slides the knife into the victim’s chest. He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find a particular beauty in it. The firm pressure, the slice of the knife, the crimson blood. It’s always a rush, the planning, the practice, the kill, and Dave enjoys it all. This particular hit sends an extra rush of pleasure through his veins.

He takes the train to get to you, fighting the urge to show up on your doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. Dave York is not a patient man, but he somehow manages, pacing his hotel room still as he buzzes with the high of the night’s hit and the excitement of seeing you in the morning. You recommended meeting at a small cafe, but as Dave lays awake with the sun peeking through the curtains, he decides to surprise you at the apartment.

Dave has to force himself not to rush, which seems to be becoming a theme with him. He makes himself a cup of coffee in the hotel room and sits down drinking every drop until he can’t stand to wait any longer, leaving his hotel 30 minutes before he needs to.

Dave could’ve taken time to enjoy the city in daylight. He spends so much of his time in these destinations under the cover of darkness, missing the beauty, but he doesn't. He wants to believe he keeps to his training, keeping an eye out for someone following him and staying out of the view of cameras, but the truth is, he’s completely unaware of it all. His sole purpose is to get to you.

When your apartment building comes into view, he finally slows, aware of how early he is. Hell, he’s supposed to meet you there.

One of your curtains is open, giving him a faraway view into your apartment. Dave has fully accepted that he’s verging into creep territory, but he doesn’t care. It’s been two weeks since he’s laid eyes on you. That’s two weeks too long for him.

He holds his breath, waiting in anticipation for a glimpse of you, patience dwindling within a few minutes of waiting. The anticipation grows into anxiety. Did he come to the wrong building? That’s impossible. Dave never forgets places, even if he did, he would never forget yours. Are you home? Did you forget? He studies the window searching for any evidence of life. Has something happened to you? Oh god, has someone connected the two of you? Figured out his whole facade? He has half a mind to break down the door and go in guns blazing.

His phone pings. It’s the only thing that could break his concentration. Your name pops up, granting him instant relief.

See you in 20?

He smiles, glancing back up toward the window. You are okay. Everything is okay because Dave is a smart man. He knows how to cover his tracks, and you are a sacred treasure he wants to keep all to himself. He will hide you away, protect you from it all.

He catches the subtle flutter of the curtains. The world around him becomes nonexistent as his full attention is pulled toward the window. She moves into view, head whipping around as you search for a specific item. He smiles, all of the anxiety leaving his body.

Instead of responding via text, he hits the call button. The dial tone plays against his ear. She moves out of view, no doubt searching for her cell.

“Hello?”

A smile overtakes his face. Dave can’t remember the last time one did so effortlessly. “Look out your window, Darling.”

His voice sits low in his chest, sending shivers through your body. You pull back the curtain. Dave waves down below. “Are you stalking me now?”

“It’s not stalking if you showed me where you live.”

You bite back your smile, heat gathering in your cheeks. “We were supposed to meet there.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Give me two minutes.” You say and the line goes dead.

Dave watches you zip away from the window. The swinging of the curtains is the only indication you were ever there. His chest tightens as he waits. Dave York considers himself a patient man, but he checks his watch for the 5th time in two minutes.

Then your door swings open. You come barreling toward him, a smile plastered to your face. It’s contagious as Dave chuckles, spinning you around like an episode of The Bachelor. His lips are warm against your cheek. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine as your feet plant on the ground. Dave’s warm brown eyes meet yours. “How can you miss someone you’ve hardly seen?”

“How can someone not miss you?” He laughs, fingers weaving with yours.

“You lie, Dave.”

“I could never lie to you.” He winks.

Dave holds your hand all the way to the cafe. He pays for your meal. He’s engaging, charming, making conversation, desperate to know everything he can about you. You’ve never felt such intention from another person.

After the cafe, you walk through town, hand in hand in broad daylight. The conversation continues to flow as naturally as a river. Dave is captivated. There’s no other word for it. He wants you. He never wants to leave. He thinks he may need you for survival.

You steer your steps toward your apartment. There’s a time and a place for subtlety. Today is not that. Dave picks up on it, catching the dilation of your pupils, feeling the shift between you.

But when you make it to the door, Dave plays the gentleman, asking when he can see you again. You cut him off with a kiss, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. His large hands plant solidly on your hips. You pull him inside. Dave remains respectful, but commanding. You eagerly submit to him. He stays the night.

“After all I knew it had to be something to do with you.”

Dave is losing it. One might argue that’s a bad thing. He’s not so sure as his mind is overrun with flashes of you. He’s quick to check his phone each time it dings. He knows better than to assign you a specific tone, but he wants to, even knows which one he would choose.

His team is building quite the reputation in the gun for hire business. They’re turning down jobs, having to play the cautious game of balancing their time between murder and families. They can’t arouse suspicions. They take turns staying stateside, sending in different crews depending on the job and need. Dave accepts every job within a quick train ride of you. He goes on each one. Sometimes it’s just him. Those are the easiest. He doesn’t even need to tell the team. It makes it easy to slip in, add more red to his ledger, and run to you with his hands dripping, metaphorically of course.

He can never stay more than the weekend, usually no more than a night, but you take every moment. He’s a drug you crave, an addiction you can’t kick. In fact, you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter if you never get more than a stolen night here and there, you’ll take whatever you can get running your hands over his toned muscles, tracing the scars littered over his body, some new and red, some old and faded.

It gives him an air of danger that sends a rush through you each time, like there’s darkness embedded in each scar and it seeps into you. The feeling should unnerve you. It doesn’t.

You want to ask, but you bite your tongue. They seem almost glaring compared to the person you know. Dave is sweet and gentle. The most violence you’ve seen in him is the intense fly hunt you went on last weekend as it buzzed intently around the two of you on the couch. You wonder about the stories behind each nonetheless. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

He leaves again. He always does with the promise of returning soon. He can’t give you a date. He never can. His phone rings as he walks out the door. You catch the flash of a couple on his screen and a woman’s name drops from his lips. He doesn’t know you see it. Carol.

“But still your secrets I will keep”

You’re drenched. Sweat gathers across your naked skin. Dave thrusts into your dripping pussy, cock soaked in your juices. Your moans marry together, echoing off the walls of your apartment at 2 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon.

You called out of work when he appeared on your doorstep without a warning. He seemed broody, crashing his lips onto yours with more force than you were used to, setting your body ablaze in a new way.

Dave’s hips snap into yours with greater force than usual, his grip a little tighter, but it doesn’t hurt. Not how you expect it to. You like it, this rough side, the way his large hand pins both your arms to the mattress. “You’re taking me so good, Darling. Like a good little girl.”

His words strike a chord within you. Your walls tighten around him. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers run through your sopping folds, flicking at your clit with skill and precision. Your back arches. You feel like you need to crawl out of your skin. “I’m almost there.”

“I know, baby.” He keeps pace, pushing you closer and closer.

The invisible line snaps as waves of pleasure roll over your body. Dave keeps going, so close to his own release. He’s relentless, prolonging your own orgasm.

“I want to finish inside you. Fill you up like a dirty little whore.” Your cunt clenches around him. You’re not sure why his words affect you the way they do, but you love it. He moans. “Please, Darling.”

“Yes,” You hiss, feeling as if your orgasm has started over. “Please, fill me up.”

“Fuck!” Dave thrusts into you. Once. Twice. And then he buries himself into you, filling you with every drop he has.

Once the high settles to a mild thrum and you’ve cleaned up, you sit on the bed, fresh sheets below you, watching Dave as he gathers his things off your dresser. The sex was different this time, good, mind altering.

Dave has yet to put a shirt on. There’s a scar along his back that disappears beneath the waistband on his jeans. You’ve seen it before. You know all his scars, and you’re gathering his secrets too.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” Dave says, back still turned to you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he turns to you, with worried eyes. You saw a piece of him today that no one has seen before. Of that, you have no doubt.

“No, I liked it.” A small smirk quirks your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying some new things.” Heat pools in your belly again. That same darkness flashes in Dave’s eyes. You want to pull it out and learn it.

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

He pulls on his shirt, turning his phone back on. Your heart drops, popping the bubble. “You can’t stay.”

Dave sighs. You catch the guilt hanging off of him. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

“It’s okay…”

Dave bites his lip. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I-”

“I know you’re married.” It rolls off your lips without a second thought. You’re not sure where it comes from.

Dave’s face pales, tongue going dry as sandpaper. “Darling-”

“And I don’t care.”

The color fills his face again as he steps over to you. “How do you know?”

You shrug, laying back on the bed. “She called you when you were leaving last time. I did my research, Dave York.”

Dave isn’t sure what to think. In his line of work, it’s scary to know you found him on the internet. It’s a safety issue. If something ever happened to Molly and Alice… but he’s trusted you with much more than anyone else.

“You mean it? You don’t care?” He searches your eyes for any doubt, but finds none.

“You’re the one traveling across the ocean to see me. I also think you’re not just ‘working for the government’.”

There’s a deep growl low in his throat. He oozes evil like your favorite book to movie villain, sending shivers through your body. He cups your neck, using force to pull your lips to his. It’s hot and needy like he didn’t just spend the afternoon buried inside of you. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, fighting with yours. He grabs your ass kneading it in his palms.

Then, he pulls away, voice gravely in your ear. “One of these days I’m going to tell you every single evil thing I’ve done, and you’re going to like it.”

You gasp, toes curling. He keeps eye contact with you, searching for any sign that you might reject him for it. You don’t ask. You don’t scoff. You believe him. You’ve seen the slivers of evil before, felt them. You’re beginning to wonder if they’ve seeped into you too.

Then he’s gone, disappearing like a ghost.

“I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.”

Adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your heart pounds in your ear. You can’t tell much in the dark, except there’s a man in your apartment, clad in black, and it’s not Dave.

You clutch the kitchen knife to your chest, thankful for Dave’s obsession with keeping things sharp. His boots are steady on your hardwood floors, leaving you to wonder if you’re safe huddled in the corner, or if you should sneak up behind him. Dave taught you to attack only if you are sure you can land a debilitating blow by surprise. You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not an assassin. You’re pretty sure Dave is.

Then, you see your chance. A small opportunity where you know you’ll be hidden in the darkness, not exposed by the open window. You know which floor boards to avoid.

You expect it to go by in a blur, but your mind feels clear. The exposed point on his neck calls to you like a beacon. The artery. He’ll bleed out before he knows what’s happening. Dave’s voice echoes in your head.

Your knife sinks into his neck, slicing skin and tissue like it’s softened butter. You pull the knife out, it drips with crimson blood. He tumbles forward, your lamp shattering into a million tiny pieces as he falls forward.

“You bitch!” He manages to his feet, blood spurting out of his neck. He tries to cover it with his hand, but he’s already losing color in his face. He stumbles toward you. You easily step out of his path, sinking the knife into his chest cavity. It’s more difficult, but you know when you hit his lung.

You watch him fall to the floor, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon as he coughs and sputters. He’s trying to speak, but can’t. You cock your head to the side, watching it happen, watching the life drain from his eyes, listening to his final breaths. You did that. You took down a man bigger than yourself with two quick blows, without hesitation.

You can feel the thick, red blood dripping off your fingers, soaking into your clothes.Your chest heaves. The knife clatters to the floor. You turn your hands over. You should want this off of you, scratching at the skin to remove it. Instead, you just stare in awe.

Dave appears, heart racing as he takes in the scene. He was gone for only a few hours. A quick job in a neighboring town. “Darling?”

You don’t respond, still inspecting your coated hands. He puts a hand on your shoulder, desperate to know that you’re okay. You jump, eyes blow wide.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. I woke up and he was here… I just- I did what you taught me.”

Your eyes focus on him. He’s in weird clothes- tactical gear. He probably killed someone tonight too.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap back down to your hands. Are you okay? You don’t remember getting hit or knocked over, just the steel blade sinking into flesh over and over and over.

“Darling, look at me!” His hand wraps around your neck and your back hits the wall.

Your eyes snap to him. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the deafening silence that coats your apartment. His eyes are dark. Darker than you ever remember seeing them. You think, maybe, there’s a hint of cruelty floating in them.

“You’re okay.” His eyes scan over you to assure himself as well. He reminds himself that blood is not yours.

Your eyes drift back toward the body. The body that used to house a person with a life and family and-

“Look at me.” Dave’s voice is commanding, forcing obedience. The other side of him is coming out. This is not the Dave you know. It’s the one you’ve caught glimpses of. The one he told you about. This Dave is a monster. A monster you should run from.

“You did nothing wrong. He would’ve killed you.” His hand presses into your neck again. “You did the right thing.”

You thought this moment would break you, losing your Dave, but this Dave is yours too. You thought the monster would scare you. It’s everything you’ve ever stood against, but you want the monster.

A thrill shoots through you, unlocking a deep urge. The world should be blurry, hazing like the TV shows when someone experiences a trauma, but it’s buzzing around you instead. Your senses feel heightened.

Dave says your name. You look up at him. Time stands still. He knows you know. It’s a question of if you will accept it. You shouldn’t. You’re too good for him. He shouldn’t tarnish you, but he catches that look. It’s everything he feels after a kill. The adrenaline rush, the buzz of life through your veins. Maybe he didn’t tarnish you. Maybe he unlocked something in you. Your bloodied hands tangle in his thick hair as he surges forward lips colliding with yours.

This is wrong, so wrong. Another man’s blood is literally on your hands as they tangle in Dave’s hair. You should be disgusted with yourself. This is wicked. You’ve run from the wickedness your entire life. Now you feel like you should have embraced it. He bites your lip, so hard there’s a metallic taste in your mouth. It only spurs you on. A familiar ache grows in your core. Your teeth nash against his, meeting each of his tortuous movements.

His hand squeezes your neck just enough to make your head go dizzy. You should hate this. You should despise this, but your cunt clenches again. “You like that don’t you?”

He loosens his hold, the blood rushing back quickly. It’s a new rush, crashing over the edges of your heightened senses. You feel as if every nerve ending in your body is on fire and you never want it to stop.

His rough voice presses to your ear as he caresses your exposed neck reminding you how fragile your own life is. “The little slut likes when I get rough.”

You whimper at his words, your underwear growing wetter with each passing second. His knee presses between your thigh, granting some tension to your aching core. You move your hips against it. “Not so fast, Darling.” He tightens his grip on your neck, pressing you further against the wall. “You think just because you killed him you’re in charge now?”

Another whimper falls from your lips. An involuntary tear seascapes the corner of your eyes, beginning its descent. Dave’s eyes flicker to it, head cocking to the side. His eyes look different- wild verging on insane. You should be scared, but it’s still Dave. You trust him. Then his tongue is against your cheek, wiping it away with a long, slow swipe. Your nipples pearl under your thin nightshirt.

He whispers in your ear. “I'm in charge. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Good.”

He produces a knife out of thin air. It’s one you’ve seen before. He’s sharpened it at your kitchen counter. He brushes the tip along your collarbone. Your eyes track its every movement. It’s not enough to cut you, but enough that you can feel how sharp it is. Your heart thuds harder, but your hips move against his knee of their own accord.

He clicks his tongue, forcing the knife down in a single swift movement. You cry out, expecting to feel pain, only to find your chest exposed and your nightshirt torn down the middle. He hand gropes your breast, squeezing it like a stress ball. A gasp falls from your lips as his finger runs over your nipple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

By your neck, he leads you in front of him to the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, pressing you against it. He produces the knife again, running it through your pajama shorts. The scraps fall to the floor, leaving you in the delicate lace pair of underwear you wore in anticipation of Dave’s arrival.

His tongue clicks appreciatively. The tip of the knife traces over the lace. You whimper, eyes falling closed. He falls to his knees.

“So pretty.” Dave presses his mouth to your clothes cunt. He works his tongue over the thin fabric, pulling it between his teeth. It’s just enough to tease and not enough to provide relief.

“Dave.” It comes out so hoarse you don’t recognize your own voice.

He grins up at you, pulling the knife through your underwear with a rehearsed flick of his wrist. They join your shorts on the floor. You’re bared to him while Dave is fully clothed.

You catch the blood in his hair, splattered on his clothes. It’s drying on your skin now. You know you should be repulsed by it, but the thought of what you did still makes you buzz to life.

“Stay right there.” He eases to his feet. “I mean it. Don’t move.”

He turns on the shower, pushing the hot water all the way. As steam starts to fill the room, Dave removes his clothing item by item. He’s not making a show of it per se, but he is commanding, concise. He pulls another knife from his belt and sets it on the counter. Your breath catches and he makes eye contact. A whisper of a smirk plays on his lips. “Standing so still for me, darling.” You squeeze your legs together, feeling the familiar squelching between your vaginal lips.

You eye the knife a moment longer, biting your lip. Something about it calls out your name. You’re not sure if you should grab it and find the nearest person to plunge it into or if you want Dave to use it with you, on you.

Dave catches the glimmer in your eyes as you eye it. A newfound excitement tugs in his belly. A whole new world is opening before him. One where he doesn’t have to hide all this shit from you, one where you might enjoy it too. You’re not shutting down after killing that man, his body cooling on your living room floor. You liked it. He likes it.

He kicks off his boots and socks. His pants follow. Your eyes travel over his body. The scars make sense now. You still don’t know what Dave does, but you know it’s bad. There’s a small band across his ankle that houses another knife. You should hate him for all of this, kick him to the curb. Instead, your cunt is soaking, and you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted him more.

He chuckles as you eye the knife on his ankle. It’s the only thing he wears other than his briefs now. His dick bulges, usually pulling your attention, put you can’t pull your eyes away from the knife.

Pulling off his underwear, Dave comes back over to you, pressing his body against yours. His teeth scrape over the veins of your neck and he bites down on your earlobe as his hand tangles in your hair.

You release a soft yell. You barely recognize the man in front of you, but it doesn’t matter.

He grips your thigh, hiking it over his hip, running his dick through your sopping cunt.

“You like my knives, Darling?”

You nod as pleasure plays like a movie across your body.

He gips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” It barely comes out.

His brows raise in amusement. “Would you like me to use them?”

“You won’t hurt me.” You say it as a statement.

Flashes of his softer side show before he clamps them down. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes.” It’s almost a yell.

Without hesitation, he grabs the knife off the vanity, pressing it to your neck. “On your knees.”

You obey coming face to face with his hard cock. The knife stays against your delicate flesh.

“You know what to do, baby.”

Again, you obey, taking it into your mouth. The knife is cool against your neck, the only reminder it’s still there. You don’t know how it never pierces your flesh either by dumb luck or expert skill.

Dave’s hips thrust forward, almost triggering your gag reflex. Tears fall from your eyes. Curses sputter from Dave’s lips as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You breathe from your nose, forcing yourself to nod.

“Shit!” Dave curses, pulling out of your mouth. “I’m going to paint that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your cunt clenches as a small moan tumbles from your lips. He chuckles, hand closing around your neck once more as he ushers you into the shower.

The water is hot, burning against your skin as if it might melt your skin off. Dave holds you under the water. Your breath catches as your body screams out. The water beneath you runs red as the blood washes from your skin.

Your back hits the cool tile wall granting relief from the scalding water. He lathers soap over the parts of your body still stained red, fingers occasionally brushing under your breasts, tweaking nipples.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even covered in blood.”

You whimper again, senses overloaded from the trauma, the rush, the teasing. “Dave, please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words, Doll.”

Your walls constrict again, desperate to be around something. Your arms and legs are heavy with need. He’s never used that term with you before. It should be degrading. It is, but it sets another wave of pleasure. You wonder if it’s possible to orgasm virtually untouched. If it is, you’re close.

“Fuck me.”

His tongue clicks as he floats around yours, almost taunting you. He grabs your boob, hard enough it should hurt. It does a little, but pleasure overrides the pain.

“Ask nicely, Doll.”

His finger trails over your collarbone traveling between your breasts and down across your hip. Your thighs squeeze. His palm slips around as he grabs the back of your thigh, kneading it.

“I said.” His words come out like a punch. Concise. Almost sharp. “Ask. Nicely.” He pushes your thigh over his waist, forcing your supportive leg to your tiptoes.

You feel his cock near your entrance, brushing your pussy lips. You moan, hips bucking. He pushes against your neck, running your head into the tiles behind you. “You little slut. You think you can just take it.”

You gasp. “Please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Daddy.” It tumbles out of your lips before your brain catches up.

He thrusts his cock into you, sheathing himself fully, hitting the deepest parts of you. Then he’s gone, making you feel empty but only for a second until he enters you again. His hand squeezes tighter around your neck. You come for air as he continuously splits you apart thrust by thrust, pulling out almost fully each time.

Your moans are loud, drowned out by the steaming shower. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Dave pays you little mind, shows little care as he continues with a brutality you’ve never encountered, a brutality that only makes you soak his cock. He doesn’t slow. You don’t want him to. He never touches your clit, but you're propelling forward, chasing that high in a way you never have.

The pitch of your voice steps up. The spasm starts in your stomach traveling down to your core as you flutter around Dave’s cock. Your supporting leg shakes. Still, he never eases up, working you through your orgasm.

It hits you like a punch to the gut, a scream piercing the air. Your scream. Dave doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stutter. He keeps pace, chasing his own release.

With each thrust, you yell. You hear the squelching of your sopping cunt against his dick over the roar of the shower. His continuous movements extend your release until he finally buries himself inside you, coating your pussy with his cum. “Such a perfect little doll for me.”

You let out a final whimper as he pulls around, dropping your leg. Your knees buckle. You barely keep yourself upright, legs tingling and shaking.

Dave kisses your cheek. The softness causes a sense of whiplash. He glances over your body, making sure the blood is cleared from your skin and hair. He rinses the blood from his hair as your brain slowly returns to the world. You expect to be exhausted, and you are, but there’s still that low buzz deep within your body.

You killed a man. You took a life. You should feel bad. There’s a fucking body in your living room, but all you can think about is the rush. You liked it. Watching Dave, you wonder if he feels the same way. There’s no doubt to you that he’s taken lives before. You wonder if he knows how many.

The water stops. Dave dries you off with the soft bath towel. He helps you into his soft white t-shirt and tucks you into bed.

“I need to make a call.” He kisses your head and shuts himself in your bathroom. You hear him on the phone, but his words are muffled by the door.

You lay on your back, sheets cool against your hot skin. Staring at the ceiling, you can still feel the blood dripping from your hands, hear the piercing of the knife. You heart rate picks up. What would it be like to do that again? Would you feel the same rush of adrenaline? Would it feel better?

Dave comes out, tossing his cell on the nightstand and sliding under the covers. His hand covers yours.

“What about…?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You don’t ask. He probably knows people. His fingers drift over your cheeks and jaw. They skim lower, following the same path down your neck as your arteries. They feel cool against your skin, drawing patterns where you anticipate bruises tomorrow.

“Did I hurt you?”

He’s almost back to the Dave you know, soft and kind, but you still catch the edges of his dark side. He’s more of a blend now. You think you might be getting the real, true Dave now.

“No,” you shake your head. There was pain. You’ll be sore tomorrow, sport a few scrapes and bruises, but it doesn’t feel like he hurt you.

Dave kisses your forehead, fingers tracing your collarbone now. A question forms in your head, gnawing at the corners of your brain.

“Dave?”

“Hmmm?” He sees distracted, entranced as he follows his hand over your skin, skimming the tops of your breasts. Your nipples tighten making you curl your toes with a familiar tug of desire. How are you ready to go again after that?

“What if I liked it?”

His eyebrow quirks. “The sex?” he pinches your hardened nipple making you gasp.

“All of it?”

His palm stops. The pitch of his voice deepens. “All of it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“Use your words, Doll.” He cups your breath, teasing your nipple more. His breath is hot in your ear. “Tell me what you like.”

“I-” Can you really say this out loud? Will it blacken your soul? Or is it already charred and damned.

“Tell me.” He smacks your chest like a parent might smack their child’s hand away from an electrical outlet.

Your pussy clenches as you squeeze your legs together. He smacks your other breast in the same manner. You gasp, practically yelling out your answer. “Killing him.”

The air stands still. For a second, you expect a look of disgust to cross Dave’s face. Instead, a smirk grows. “You liked that?”

You nod, not able to say anything else. Dave climbs on top of you, kicking away the covers. He pushes his hand up your sternum, kneading your breast before running it back down. He repeats the motion, rotating between the two. Moans grow in your chest. He bites your earlobe.

“Did you like the way the knife slid into him?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dave growls in your ear.

“Yes, Daddy,” you repeat between moans. Your sopping hole drips onto the sheets below you. Dave’s motions steadily grow in intensity.

“Did my doll like the way her body felt alive? Like you absorbed that bastard's energy.”

Tears drop from your eyes. You want him again. You need him again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Does my doll want to do it again?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You practically scream. You should be ashamed of the answer. You should be ashamed that there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your being.

“Fuck,” Dave says, shoving your legs apart. He pushes his cock inside you again. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure you will.”

Dave moves inside you. It’s not as violent, not as torturous as earlier, but it’s just as satisfying. The promise of more ignites a fire inside of you.

Dave takes you to the brink, pushing you until you pass out from exhaustion, spent, used, and sated.

“I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might.”

When you wake up the next morning, the body is gone. The lamp you broke is replaced and a new area rug is delicately placed in your apartment. Not a speck or splatter of blood can be found anywhere. Dave stands in the kitchen gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He cooks eggs on the stovetop and a steaming cup of coffee sits on the counter.

You wrap your arms around him. He hums. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, heart beating against your palm. “I like the rug.”

“Me too.”

“Kryptonite”

[dawnofh]

How could we ever just be friends?

König x male reader

“C’mon Big guy, don’t keep me waiting!!” You yelled at the tall Austrian man who couldn’t peal his eyes away from the fireworks that adorned the sky. His pupils practically looked dilated as he stared in awe. You admired him for a bit, smiling as he could barely look away, every colour and pattern enticing him more to stay and not break eye contact.

“Ich komme…I mean!! I’m coming.” He ran up to you so fast you felt as if he might just tackle you into the snow, which he has done of several occasions. The tall Austrian towered over you, bouncing on his heels like a child, he was excited for you to spend time with him in his hometown. You were overjoyed to just be in his presence. The blue irises in his eyes melt every time you were around him, it was something you could easily lose yourself in. What a magnificent sight. But you were blind to this obvious hints, as was he to yours.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” You didn’t break eye contact, his gaze enticing like the fireworks so you stared back at him with the same admiration. He crouched down a bit to your height to stare deeper into your eyes, you couldn’t help the feeling of immense feelings overshadow you. The feeling to just reach out, lunge your arms around his neck and kiss him through the balaclava version of his mask which you quite frankly were fond of.

“König—“

“Scheiße, you’re turning red, are you running a fever?” He put his gloved hands on your face, expecting to feel your temperament through them. This not only amused but flustered you, you let out an airy laugh, the coldness causing a mist as you did so. “What are you laughing at we need to get you to-“

You cut him off by pulling him lower to your height, cupping his face with your gloved hands, “Big guy. You really are something, you know that?”

“Th..Thank you?” König said with confusion, studying your face for signs of sickness, “Y/N..? Do you want to sit down?” He leaned more closer as the fondness in your eyes went over his head.

“How can someone such as yourself be so slow on the uptake.” You let go of him, walking away towards a small little antic shop. He followed behind, “What does that mean?” He opened the door for you, the jingle of the bell giving him a mini jumpscare. You glanced up at him as you walked inside, the warmth welcoming you in, “Nothing. Don’t wrap your head around it for too long.”

“You know English isn’t my first language..” He complained, closing the door behind you and looking around. The store was completely fragile, glancing at the items made him tense up, he even had to duck to just get inside. “You’ve got to be kidding me...” He mumbled in German. You knew what you were doing by bringing him into here.

“Hey König, come see this~” You said teasingly as you gestured to the ceramic bowls. He practically tiptoed and sucked his breath in to avoid touching anything, it was like bringing an elephant into a room made of glass. Or that’s how he felt.

“Looks. Great. Wow.” He said stiffly to which you moved deeper into the store. König just stood there, afraid to move an inch, his eyes widened however when he stared directly at a cat on the shelf. Then those eyes softened the same way it does when he looks at you.

While the tall guy was distracted you browsed around, grabbing the item you came here for. “That’ll be 20 euros.” The shop clerk said in German as she smiled at you while you handed her the money, “What a precious gift young man, who’s the lucky lady getting this?” Somehow with your limited German you could put the sentence together and understand.

You could only chuckle before gesturing to the dangerous mountain of a man who was petting a cat. “He’s the lucky lady~” You said in English.

She could only stare, frightened that he might squish her cat to death just by petting it. “Well.. you know what they say about Austrians..” She began to speak back in English to you.

“No? What do they say?” You leaned in, curious.

“That it’s all in the eyes.”

“Come again?”

“What’s the first thing you noticed when you saw that man other than his height.” She continued, you let out a gasp of realisation, “It’s all in the eyes, Sonny.”

“Oh my god, you’re right. Thank you, Lady.” You grabbed your item, pocketing it.

“Hey wait-“

“Keep the change.” You said to her before grabbing König by his arm and dragging him away, he said goodbye to the shop clerk in his native tongue and to the cat while you pulled him out the store, he instinctively ducked and when you two were finally out you let him go to stare.

“What’s up?” He asked confused by the sudden change of behaviour but kinda used to it by now. “I should be asking you that.” You practically stormed into town square, leaving König to run after you rather confused. “Y/N?! Did I do something—“

“Are you trying to seduce me.” You made direct eye contact, he genuinely couldn’t tell what emotions you were showing, a problem he found out when you two first met. The Austrian soldier looked up at the fireworks for a second, collecting himself before grabbing your chin with his index finger and thumb. His eyes were now half lidded as they sent chills down your spine.

“Would you like me to seduce you?”

You simply stared back dumbfounded, lost for words. Utterly flabbergasted. You tried to register those words in your head again, not believing König out of all people said that to you. You always saw him as doormat from the first time you joined the military. You were so used of being top of everything, in control, making people lose their words, choke on their breath and catch them by surprise. How the turntables.

“You..I…uhm…” Your words weren’t wording. König got the biggest kick by doing this and you had no idea how someone like him was able to gain the upper hand against you. As if he could read your mind, he let go putting a hand on your shoulder, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that~” You knew by the tone of his voice he wasn’t genuine so your eyes hardened, resorting to glare to try mask a side you didn’t know existed.

König leaned down to your height and you froze up yet again, he knew very well what he was doing as he lowered himself towards your ear, “Lass uns nach Hause gehen.” He glanced at you before walking towards a bus stop.

You took out the music box from your pocket that you bought him, wanting to just throw it at his head for no reason whatsoever other than the fact he made you fall deeper. You wanted to mask yourself again, this time with hatred. You hated how König was breaking through and causing cracks in your facade, hated how he nearly saw right through you.

“C’mon Little guy, don’t keep me waiting.” You heard him say.

You felt your eye twitch before turning to him slowly, those half lidded eyes staring into your soul. You could smell the smirk across his face now. The fireworks continued as they were in the background, you could see the colours reflect off of König. He was still a magnificent sight.

“How could we ever just be friends….” You whispered inaudibly, pocketing the gift and following close behind him. König slowed down so he was next to you, unsurprisingly making a move by putting his arm over your shoulder.

“Guess you’re a bit slow on the uptake too.”

Credit to: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFnmrXhE/

[mo-nee-ta]

Rabbit Nabokov, Ruhenheim’s Konrad and Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin

Disclaimer: I haven’t read 20th Century Boys yet, so I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies (and you’re welcome to correct me!). I only wanted to take a look at the bizarre Rabbit Nabokov game.

I also haven’t read Nabokov’s translation of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin, but I definitely plan to read it—at least fragments of it. 

Keep in mind that these are only notes on a heavy work in progress. You’ll find the TL;DR version at the end.

Rabbit Nabokov is a fictional high-stakes gambling card game invented by a character named Aleksandr Nabokov. 

The creator is a hybrid of two Russian authors: Aleksandr Pushkin and Vladimir Nabokov.

This isn’t the first time Urasawa used a real-world author’s name to create a fictional character; Monster introduced two characters named after one author: Karel Ranke and Petr Čapek.

So why is the fictional creator of a fictional gambling game named after two Russian authors?

For starters, card games are referenced in both Pushkin (The Queen of Spades) and Nabokov (King, Queen, Knave). 

But there’s something more interesting and of substance, and it’s about Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin, a milestone of Russian literature. Nabokov thought it was impossible to translate it faithfully while keeping the rhymes and he was dissapointed and disgusted with the already existing English translations of it (because he was a massive hater). 

So his partner-in-crime wife, Véra, suggested he should create his own translation of the sacred text.

And these were the beginnings of a work with the following title:

Yes, this should be treated as a full title, because this isn’t just a translation of Eugene Onegin. Most of the text here is not, as one might think, the translation of the poem itself, but Nabokov’s commentary.

The commentary that turned a book of around 350 pages into a beast of around 1850 pages (dare I say, Charles Kinbote style?). 

He also apologized for his own translation (!) in the form of a poem.

Taking all of this into account, one question arises: is this version of Eugene Onegin still only Pushkin’s work? Or did it evolve into its own thing?

Maybe we could say this is the work of Aleksandr Nabokov? 

So why did this Aleksandr Nabokov create a gambling game? One clue can be found in Nabokov’s response to Edmund Wilson (someone Nabokov corresponded with for years), who was critical of Nabokov’s translation:

What does [N.] mean when he speaks of Pushkin’s ‘addiction to stuss’? This is not an English word, and if he means the Hebrew word for nonsense, which has been absorbed into German, it ought to be italicized and capitalized. But even on this assumption it hardly makes sense.”

This is Mr. Wilson’s nonsense, not mine. “Stuss” is the English name of a card game which I discuss at length in my notes on Pushkin’s addiction to gambling. Mr. Wilson should have consulted my notes (and Webster’s dictionary) more carefully.

So here we have it: a card game and a gambling addiction. And it turns out that playing the game can turn into a scene that resembles your average discussion about Nabokov and/or his work.

Just to name one example with an adequate commentary:

The Eugene Onegin shenanigans don’t end with 20th Century Boys. They don’t even start here; they start with Monster.

Remember Konrad? The lingonberry jam-maker from Ruhenheim? Aren’t the lingonberries an oddly specific choice for a character from a far-away background?

Lingonberries are present in Eugene Onegin. 

In his commentary, Nabokov devotes more than one page to explaining why he translated the Russian word Brusnika into lingonberry and why the other translations of brusnichnaya voda were, to say the least, inaccurate. Lingonberries can be deceitful.

TL;DR: Nabokov explains the confusing nature of lingonberries, shows no mercy to his translation predecessors and expects his successors to do better.

Konrad has other traits that make him a suspiciously Nabokovian character. 

His birthday date seems to have some special powers:

Is he telling the truth or is he just making fun of Mrs. Heinich and her superstitions? Was it a mere coincidence that the numbers were a success? I guess we’ll never know!

This combines three things: the gambling, the coincidences and patterns, and the significant number. 

Coincidences and patterns are one of the most important motifs in Nabokov’s work. To quote Lolita: Those dazzling coincidences that logicians loathe and poets love.

While reading Nabokov’s works, it can be useful to pay attention to the numbers; for example, 342 is a recurring number in Lolita.

And the gambling? Deception is an inherent part of gambling; it was also something Nabokov was clearly fascinated with. 

Q: You say that reality is an intensely subjective matter, but in your books it seems to me that you seem to take an almost perverse delight in literary deception.

A: The fake move in a chess problem, the illusion of a solution or the conjuror's magic: I used to be a little conjuror when I was a boy. I loved doing simple tricks—turning water into wine, that kind of thing.

Literature is invention. Fiction is fiction. To call a story a true story is an insult to both art and truth. Every great writer is a great deceiver, but so is that arch-cheat Nature. Nature always deceives. From the simple deception of propagation to the prodigiously sophisticated illusion of protective colors in butterflies or birds, there is in Nature a marvelous system of spells and wiles. The writer of fiction only follows Nature’s lead.

And of course, his stories are full of (lonely, misunderstood, and often very dangerous) deceivers.  

But let’s get back to Konrad, a good friend of Mr. Poppe:

One of the first things you might learn about Nabokov is that he despised Freud. So much that the traces of the Viennese quack can be tracked in his books everywhere; for example, Lolita opens with a fictional foreword written by a fictional Freudian psychologist called John Ray (Jr.). 

Oh, I am not up to discussing again that figure of fun. He is not worthy of more attention than I have granted him  in  my novels  and  in Speak, Memory. Let the credulous and the vulgar continue to believe that all mental woes can be cured by a daily application of old Greek myths to their private parts. I really do not care.

Making the Nabokov-coded character friends with someone who turned into a Freud-lookalike in his old days (and who’s Monster’s greatest deceiver and a very Nabokovian character himself)? Letting them play Nabokov’s beloved chess? 

It’s like using Nabokov’s tricks against him, which is hilarious.

Another fun fact about Nabokov: he loved annagrams and wordplay. For example, he inserted himself into Lolita using an anagram of his name, Vivian Darkbloom (of course the anagram of Nabokov’s name would be a dramatic and fabulous one; come on, it sounds like a draq queen name). 

And while this is only partially an anagram, it’s still interesting that you can take some letters from Vladimir Nabokov to create a Konrad.

His corpse also looks to me like a middle-aged Nabokov, but since I’m biased as hell, I’ll leave it to your interpretation.

All the examples are something I thought about earlier but wasn’t sure enough to post it anywhere; the lingonberry seemed too general, the anagram wasn’t a full one, and the birthdate was the most suspicious thing to me, but still not enough to share it.

But the obscure Aleksandr Nabokov and his gambling card game are a very solid clue that binds it all together.

And since we’re talking about deceivers and translations, let me add a small easter egg: please get back to the The Secret Woods episode, pay close attention to Edmund ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° ) Fahren, his suicide note, and see if there’s something possibly wrong with the translation of the passage found by Richard Braun.

TL;DR: 

The gambling card game Rabbit Nabokov was created by a fictional man called Aleksandr Nabokov; Aleksandr is Pushkin’s first name. Nabokov is Vladimir’s last name. 

Both Pushkin and Nabokov have referenced gaming cards in their works. 

Nabokov translated Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin into English because he was deeply unsatisfied with the earlier translations. One of Nabokov’s many comments is about Pushkin’s gambling addiction and a card game. 

Nabokov’s translation isn’t just a translation; it’s full of comments that turn it into its own thing, which can explain the hybrid that is Aleksandr Nabokov. 

Ruhenheim’s Konrad is the real monster of Monster (besides Naoki Urasawa and his collaborator and editor Takashi Nagasaki), and I love him dearly. 

[cowboylikeyouu]

i always love when people have some kind of "get to know me and my fandoms :)" post pinned on their blog, so here‘s mine:

i‘m a german law student, but i like to ignore that fact bc it‘s kinda depressing lol (edit october 2024: IM QUITTING. lol)

my favorite activity is to ignore most of my responsibilities and doomscroll on tumblr & tiktok while listening to the same 5 songs over and over again and drink too much coffee ^^

i watch a lot of movies and sometimes i write stuff, so feel free to follow me on letterboxd and ao3 ;)

you can yap to me about literally everything, i love love LOVE talking to random people on the internet about random shit!! but here are some of my favorite fandoms and my fav characters & ships from them if u need inspiration :P

marvel (mcu mostly)

favorite characters: CLINT (comic & fanfic version, literally my favorite character of all time i love him to death), tony, nat, bucky, kate, and basically everyone except steve

favorite ships: WINTERHAWK (they’re my everything), stony, nat/maria/pepper

x-men

favorite characters: wade, charles, storm

favorite ships: POOLVERINE, poolverinessa, cherik, and basically every logan-ship in existence (scogan, logurt, morpherine, logan/ororo, here for all of it)

harry potter

favorite characters: hermione, remus, harry (especially in post war drarry fics), draco, minerva, sirius, fred & george

favorite ships: drarry, wolfstar, romione, deamus, linny. i mostly read drarry tho and i think there isn’t a single side-ship that could possibly throw me off. if u write it well i can get behind everything.

good omens

favorite characters: crowley

favorite ships: do i really have to answer that?

star wars

favorite characters: luke, han, leia, (i‘m an original trilogy girly i‘m sorry), obi-wan, din djarin (pedro pascal is the literal loml can you blame me??7

favorite ships: dinluke <3333333

IT

favorite characters: richie, beverly

favorite ships: reddie, benverly, mike/stan/bill

sherlock bbc

favorite characters: mycroft

favorite ships: johnlock, mystrade

other stuff i’ve seen and really like:

10 things i hate about you (my fav movie ever), little women, httyd, fight club (i have to mention this bc one of my favorite things ever is to annoy straight men by saying that fight club is the gayest movie to ever exist), how i met your mother (my fav show ever), our flag means death, most pixar & disney movies, shrek universe (especially puss in boots 2), starkid musicals!!! especially avpm & co obviously, knives out & glass onion, orange is the new black, grey‘s anatomy, shameless, she-ra, bojack horseman, the last of us, hamilton, cats, and so much more, just ask ^^

i don’t really ship any controversial ships but i‘m 100% pro proshipping so get the fuck away from me if you’re not <3

#amy talks is my yapping tag, #tweet people w kindness has everything about my twitter fic, and #first light everything about the winterhawk interstellar au i‘m currently writing. rest of my tags should be self explanatory lol

[willow-asin-winnie]

The German Dick Grayson Playlist

You guys missed me and my yapping yet? Well, good and bad news, one: I have enough stuff to procrastinate on to work on this again and two: I have so much stuff to do??? It's horrible. But! The yap-train is choo choo-ing again. Enjoy!

You can find the playlist here. If you wish to read it somewhere else, check it out on ao3!

The masterlist <3

Major Tom (…völlig losgelöst) (“Major Tom” (Coming Home)) by Peter Schilling

Some of you might actually know this song! Originally published in German and later translated into English to reach a wider audience, the lyrics have seen some slight changes to fit better into the song. I highly recommend listening to the German version and you’ll get my commentary of course :D

I think this song nicely reflects his evolution from Robin into Nightwing over the years. Batman is relying on him, but over time he recognizes flaws in Batman’s actions, choosing to separate himself from him, choosing to travel and familiarize himself with the people he wanted to save and protect. He develops his own views on his works, his own priorities – he let’s go of his earth’s orbit: Completely detached, regardless of his work as Robin. Also, drifting through space is a nice metaphor for him floating through the night skies, through the circus tent, no?

Notable lyrics (please notice I took the liberty to literally translate some of the original German lyrics, as they illustrate my point much better than the lyrics of the English version): “But what is it all for?’ Thinks Major Tom”: “Back at control, panic breaks out / The course of the space capsule is all wrong / Hello, Major Tom, can you hear me? / Do you really want to destroy the project like that? / But he can’t hear”; “Completely detached from earth/ the spaceship floats / weightless”

Egoist (“Egoist”) by JEREMIAS

Staying on the topic of him doing his own thing, I want to bring this song into the conversation. Now, I am aware not all of this fits 100%, but there’s some lines I think fit on Dick really well.

I’ve always thought of him as a freedom loving person, someone that wants to stick to what he thinks is right. And sometimes, you have to be a bit of an egoist to be that. Is that bad? Maybe, maybe not. But it is the way it is.

Notable lyrics: “It hurts to go now / but it’d be worse / to stay”; “I like the new streets and the smell / the stranger voices and the stranger air”; “One half ghost / one half child / I think my role model / has always been the wind”; “If it’s about freedom, I’m an egoist”

Echt (“Real”) by Glasperlenspiel

Nightwing’s relationships have been… rocky, to say the least. From breakups to situations with dubious consent, I can’t help but get the feeling he finally craves something perfect – something real.

Notable lyrics: “I can’t quite believe it yet / but you’re standing right here in front of my eyes / I want that everything between us isn’t just the heat of the moment / I want that everything here is real(ly) / perfect”; “And I believe that it’s better / if I can feel it / for just this moment / all my doubts are gone / because it’s real”

Lasse redn (“Let them talk”) by Die Ärzte

A song perfectly capturing not only how much people will gossip about Dick Grayson and Nightwing, but also actually reflecting how rumours spread and that it’s sometimes better to just ignore it.

I can’t imagine that being adopted by Bruce Wayne has gone down without a bit of gossip. Dealing with it is something that you have to learn and that also applies to him. Thinking back once again to his rather eventful and very imperfect relationship and sex life… The lyrics hit closer than you might think at first.

Notable lyrics: “You don’t even really know their names / while they run their mouths about you”; “Let the people talk / Most people have nothing better to do / Let the people talk, day and night / Let the people talk, that’s what they have always been doing”; “Did you hear and say, did you know? / Hear: You make your money via prostitution / You apparently stand in front of the bus station / the colleague of a brother-in-law saw you there”; “As long as people talk, they do nothing worse / you can afford a bit of pretense / stay friendly and say nothing / that’s going to piss them off most”

Ich warte auf dich (“I wait for you“) by Bosse

Dick Grayson is many things: Trapeze artist, hero, friend. But most of all, he is a (imperfect) brother. Far from perfect, but throughout the comics we see him trying, we see him giving his best. He will wait for all of them, keep a light on for them, no matter how chaotic their previous experiences with each other were.

He wishes so much for his siblings to accept that, doesn’t he?

Notable lyrics: “We loved, we hated, we made up / … / like pitch misses sulfur”; “I wait for you / I wait for you / For you the light will always burn in my hallway”; “Sometimes I hope so much, that the doorbell rings / That you stand there with your suitcases / As if you only went on vacation”; “Please come back and make peace with me / ey, come back and live with me / let’s go back to sharing everything”

Nur noch kurz die Welt retten (“Just need to quickly save the world”) by Tim Bendzko

Dick is stubborn, hard working to the point of overworking himself, he’s responsible. There is so much he wants to do, should still to. His standards for himself are high and while this song might fit on Batman too, I think it fits him better. Just see for yourself.

Notable lyrics: “I just need to quickly save the world / After I’ll fly to you / Just need to check 148 mails / who knows what’ll happen after, so much happens”; “Out there, they need me / They underestimate the situation / Maybe our life depends on it”

Luftbahn (“Air Train”) by Deichkind

Originally a song about death/suicide, I think you can also interpret this song as an appreaciation of the feeling of weightlessness. I can imagine Nightwing swinging through the nights, feeling like this song.

Notable lyrics: “We ride by air train through the night / The moon only shines for us / Shortly, we'll have made it / And all the problems  / On earth / Lie in great distance to us”

Allein in Amsterdam (“Alone in Amsterdam“) by Blackmonk

Full of fresh hope, Nightwing takes off to Blüdhaven. But is it everything he ever wished for, alone in the new city?

Notable lyrics: “Never stopping is draining one quickly / And I know you see how I leave / I drift away from time, stop walking / Look around and I realise what’s missing / But I go / And now I’m alone in Amsterdam”

Fern (“Far away”) by Streichelt

Notable lyrics: “ Maybe one day we’ll look at each other / Only to notice we are missing memories / of what was, of what pushed us”, “You’re always here / but never there / Yeah, you’re so far away, so far away, so far away, so far away”, “No talk of peace / War is everywhere”, “Do you still hold me dear?”

Bitch (do I really need to translate this?) by Von Wegen Lisbeth

Will I ever not have more songs about Richard’s fights with Bruce? Probably not. Because this is yet another one of them.

A lot of stuff happens all the time and you can always try to distract yourself with them. But in the end, you sometimes happen to think of *them* again. That’s the song, bitch. (There is actually much more subtlety to the song, but you know. The essence.)

Notable lyrics: “And what else happened? / When I went into the kitchen / Three minutes before half past seven / I didn’t think of you”, “Bitch, for you / I ran the whole way / the whole way alone”

Bruttosozialprodukt (“Gross National Income“) by Geier Sturzflug

Nightwing is a work human. He works a lot, he works well, he works. And although his nightwork might not be directly contribute to the GNI, it definitely does indirectly.

Notable lyrics: “The nurse gets a real fright / Another sick person is gone / She amputated his last leg / And now he's kneeling in again”, “Yes, then spit on your hands again / We increase the gross national product / Yes, yes, yes, now it's time to spit on your hands again” (Note: to spit in ones hand is an idiom to symbolize going to work without hesitation and with some sort of enthusiasm. Possibly translatable with “to knuckle down” or “roll up ones sleeves”.)

Du bist schön (“You are beautiful”) by Alligatoah

Here I am, once again, removing a song from it’s actual context. Oh well.

Nightwing is ruthless, let’s be real. Especially as Robin. Let’s not kid ourselves. And the cheerful tone while insulting someone as dumb? Screams Dick Grayson.

If you are interested, the song’s pretty genius and is about the clothing industry! It’s making it hard to translate too. “Dafür kannst du nichts” can mean both “You can do nothing” or “It’s not your fault”. Alligatoah does a lot of stuff like that, his songs are pretty interesting, even though he recently started pursuing a bit of a new direction with his music.

Notable lyrics: “You are beautiful / but in return know nothing / Not reading or writing or anything else / You are beautiful / but in return know nothing / and it’s not even your fault”

Honorable Mention: Atemlos durch die Nacht (“Breathless through the night”) by Helene Fischer

Now. Schlager is the German country. You either like it or you don’t or you’re a normal person and recognize there’s gems in every genre even if you don’t like it. Anyway, someone commented this on the last playlist and honestly? They’re right. Thanks @levysaurier for the suggestion haha.

Wild nights, baby.

Notable lyrics: “Breathless through the night / Feel what love does to us / Breathless, free of lies / Great show for us two / Today we're everlasting, thousands of feelings of happiness”, “We are inseparable, in some way immortal / Come take my hand and go with me / Come on, we climb the highest roof in this world / Just hold what sticks us together, oho oho”

(Have I ever mentioned my grandfather is a die hard Helene Fischer fan? He exclusively listens to SWR4 (Schlager radio station) as well.)

Conclusion

I hope you enjoyed the playlist :D

[bekkathyst]

I have some pictures to edit to make some more journal and print designs, and then I’ll be working on getting the Patreon ready for launch. The last thing I really need to do for that is make my ~intro video~ and I’ve already filmed 2 versions of it that I ended up deleting because it’s felt too awkward but you know, 3rd try should do the trick.

Oh and I’m putting together a giveaway with both crystals and a piece of jewelry to get the word out about the email newsletter. I’m reviving the one I had for years that I abandoned, so if you’ve ever signed up on our website for “email marketing” you likely will already be signed up. And of course it’s easy to unsubscribe if you changed your mind and don’t want it 😊

Other than that, I’m pretty much just trying to hang in here. My health hasn’t been doing too great and I’m overwhelmed with the stress of reapplying for all the immigration paperwork for my husband’s residency permit (that luckily isn’t due until July) because I’m constantly worried about meeting their ridiculous income requirement, but luckily we can show the numbers from last year instead of this year so far lol 🥲 I’m just always worried they’ll give us a hard time because you know they just do that sometimes. Also he has to pass his next level of the German language knowledge test which is always scary but he’s doing so well I know he’ll be fine in that regard. 💜

And I’m definitely not trying to complain, just wanting to be honest about how things are going atm. I’m still convinced things can get better in the next year and I’ll be working hard to make it come together. I know I stopped sharing anything at all personal for several years, but I realized me being the human being that I am is a vital part of my whole presence here, so that was my personal update for now!

😊💜

[qs63]

Amestris Military Real world Influence

This is the third of my series of long posts about the Amestrian Military. This is the post for the history nerds. There are plenty of real world references in Fullmetal Alchemist, especially pertaining to the first half of the 20th century. While Amestris and its military have often been compared to Nazi Germany (especially when it comes to the anime), the references in the manga are very diverse. Disclaimer, this is by no means an exhaustive list, there are too many for me to cover in one post, and I'm not a historian. So let me know if there's any reference I might have missed or if I got something wrong!

To see the rest of this meta series check out the Main Post..

Names

Probably the easiest reference to the real world is in the names of the military personnel. Almost all of them are named after military vehicles and equipment, mainly from World War II. Some examples:

Roy Mustang — P-51 Mustang (USA WW2 aircraft)

Riza Hawkeye & Grumman — Northrop Hawkeye E-2 Grumman (USA 60s aircraft)

Maes Hughes — Hughes aircraft series (USA aircraft company)

Black Hayate — Nakajima Ki-84 Hayate (Japanese WW2 aircraft)

Jean Havoc & Henry Douglas— Douglas A-20 Havoc (USA WW2 aircraft)

Heymans Breda — Breda M37 (Italy WW2 Machine gun) or HMS Breda (UK WW2 Yacht)

Kain Fuery — Hawker Fury (UK 30s aircraft) 

Vato Falman — Farman aircrafts series (French aircraft company) 

Armstrong Family — Armstrong Whitworth Whitley (UK WW2 aircraft)

Weapons and equipment 

The weapons used by the military are also based on real world weaponry. Arakawa herself admitted to using references for weapons as well as for the vehicles.[1] Not all of them are a direct copy of a historical weapon, but all of them are at least inspired by one or more of them.

Pistol — Colt M1911A1 (USA 1924)

Hawkeye's pistol. [1]

Colt M1911 & M1911A

Rifle — Mauser Karabiner 98k (Germany WW2)

Hawkeye's Rifle. [1]

Mauser Karabiner 98k rifle

Hand grenade — Stielhandgranate M24 aka the potato mashers (Germany WW2)

Team Mustang's and their weapons. [1]

Stielhandgranate M24

Briggs' Tank

The Briggs' tank isn’t modeled directly after any specific tank, and rather takes inspiration from different WW1 to WW2 tanks. The manga and Brotherhood tanks take after different inspirations, with Brotherhood being more German coded than the manga tank. There's an excellent article in the tanks encyclopedia analyzing the Fullmetal Alchemist tanks if anyone's interested.

Military Cars —

We see a few military cars throughout the story. Once again the cars we see in the manga and Brotherhood are quite different, and they appear to be based on models from the late 1910s to the late 1930s.

The manga’s standard issued military car looks at least partially inspired by the American Ford model A of 1927.

Mustang's military car(manga).[2]

1927 Ford model A.

The Brotherhood art sketches have two different drawings of military cars. The first one, the one we see Mustang use, is based on the French Citroën traction avant 11CV of 1935.

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood military vehicle version 1.

1935 French Citroën traction avant 11CV.

The second car seems to be inspired by the Italian Fiat Tipo 5 of the 1910s. Perhaps even inspired by one of the American made Fiat models.

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood military vehicle version 2.

Fiat tipo 55.

Ranks and insignias 

With the exception of the Führer-President, the Amestrian military ranks appear to be a mix of the USA WW2 officer ranks: 

General, 

Lt. General, 

Major General, 

Brigadier General, 

Colonel, 

Lt. Colonel, 

Major, 

Captain, 

1st Lieutenant,

2nd lieutenant;

As well as the Imperial Japan NCO ranks: 

Warrant officer (Special Sergeant Major),

Master Sergeant, 

Sergeant, 

Corporal.

The history of the Imperial Japan  Warrant Officer rank is a bit confusing and complicated. In the 79 years that the Empire lasted, the Warrant Officer rank saw a lot of changes, being its own category at times, a Senior NCO at others.  The NCO Warrant Officers seem to have been specialized Sergeant Majors (also translated as Master Sergeant) that basically functioned as the most senior of the NCO ranks. Aside from this the one modern country, I could find, that has Warrant Officers as NCO is Malaysia.

The rank of Führer-President (大総統 - Daisōtō in Japanese) replaces the rank of General of the army in the USA officer classification. While the English translation is a direct reference to Nazi Germany, the Japanese word is a lot more nuanced. 

The word Daisōtō actually refers to the president of the 1912-1924 Republic of China, and if you Google it, all you will get is images of Bradley himself. The term used for “Führer” is 総統 (Sōtō), without the 大 (Dai) which is instead used in the word president 大統領 (Daitōryō), this is probably the inspiration for the Führer-president title of the official English translation. 

However, Sōtō isn't used to refer just to Nazi Germany's Führer, but rather to any fascist associated head of state. As such Germany's Sōtō is the Fuhrer, but Italy's Sōtō is the Duce (Mussolini).

The effect is technically the same (you still think of Hitler and fascism), but the Japanese word is not a direct translation of Führer, nor a direct reference to Nazi Germany, it's more subtle than the English translation. I imagine Führer was used in English (in absence of a more subtle unifying word) as it is more recognizable to the English speaker than other fascist titles like: Duce, Caudillo, Generalísimo, etc.

The WW2 imperial Japan ranks also included superior private, first class private, and second class private, but they were their own class, called soldiers, below the NCO ranks, and were mainly composed of men serving their conscripted time. This might explain their absence in the Amestrian official ranks as Amestris doesn't seem to have conscription. 

The rank insignias themselves are pretty much a copy of the imperial Japan ones. 

Amestris rank insignias.[3]

Imperial Japan ranks insignias.

Uniform

In terms of the uniform there's not one single reference or perfect match for the design, but the closest to it is probably the WW1 French infantry uniform.

Amestris military uniform. [1]

Early WW1 French uniform

Late WW1 French uniform

Aside from the color of the French uniform, the long skirt, flaps and boots are very similar to the Amestrian uniform.

The Amestrian short jacket itself seems to be inspired by the WW2 USA Ike jacket.

USA WW2 Ike jacket.

Furthermore the white lining of the Amestrian uniform reminds me of the Imperial Japan formal uniform jacket, which is itself Prussian and French inspired.

Imperial Japan Major General formal uniform.

The Briggs uniform is very much WWII winter gear inspired.

Briggs uniform.[3]

Soviet WW2 winter uniform

Finnish WWII sniper.

Out of every uniform variation, the one most German coded is, to no one's surprise, the Führer-president’s. His trench coat looks similar to the WW1 Prussian one.

Bradley in uniform.

WW1 Prussian soldiers.

In general the uniform has a very World War I vibe to it, down to the impractical, decorative parts of it like the skirt. This is an uniform that obviously predates modern warfare, very apt for the time period the story is “set on”. This makes an interesting contrast with the weaponry which seem to be mostly World War II inspired.

Other references

Ishval war of extermination 

First of all trigger warning for genocide and human experimentation. Just skip this section if you're sensible to these topics. 

Just like the Ishvalan are an amalgamation of many cultures and ethnicity, the Ishvalan civil war seems to reference multiple conflicts and events. 

Plenty of comparisons have been made with the Jewish genocide in the hands of the Nazi (and the 03 anime leans especially hard on this). There are also similarities with the Herero war and genocide at the hand of the German empire which just like the Ishval Civil war ended in 1908. Another possible reference is the Armenian genocide at the hands of the Ottoman empire, which also involved a minority living at the border of a nation the country was at war with and being suspected of colluding with the enemy. Both the Armenian and the Ishvalan soldiers serving in the army were dismissed, incarcerated, and eventually executed.

Another more clear cut reference made in the Ishval civil war is Mustang's and Knox’s experimentation. This would be a reference to the horrendous experiments done by both the Nazi and Japan's infamous unit 731. Both which included burning people to test treatments and the limits of the human body.

I am sorry to end up on such a hard note, but I think it's best we move on to other — less traumatic — topics.

Source

Fullmetal Alchemist Manga

Chapter 38: a counter attack signal [2]

The Complete art of Fullmetal Alchemist [1]

Fullmetal Alchemist perfect guide 3 [3]

Training Regime post

[thathoudinisimp]

Time Squad Houdini is a great portrayal

Somewhere while watching this… I kind of remember this show but I also don’t either. But I love it!

The way they portray him isn’t accurate but it’s inventive and interesting. I actually ENJOYED it.

Also THEY GAVE HIM AN ACCENT!

FINALLY!! The rest I’ve seen, he has an American accent.

guys! Harry was an immigrant, his parents never learned English. German was the language of the Weiss family.

the writer’s and casting crew had done their homework! They actually sat down and listened to the 1914 wax cylinder recordings

let’s goooooooo!

anyway I think I found my new favorite cartoon. I also like the characters as well they are funny and entertaining.

what I also love is that the background characters are actually in vaguely turn of the century clothing. *chef kiss*

also as a personal preference, out of all the eras of cartoons, I do prefer the styles of the early 2000s. There’s just something about them that makes it charming.

this version of Houdini’s design is okay too it’s not that bad. Slap a tuxedo on him and walla.

UPDATE: Found a YouTube version of the episode thanks to @cherrytastiq

THANK YOU!!

[solar-plant-princess]

I’ve been so normal about Fionna and Cake. And I recently saw a theory about where Simon is actually from. The theory goes that he’s clearly not “white white”, he has a Russian last name, and brings up Jewish foods with some regularity. So it was theorized that he’s Central Asian.

And I agree with this and would just like to add some details about his wider pre-apocalypse origin. I believe he’s probably ethnically Uzbek just based on his more olive skin tone and that being the country with the highest Jewish population in Central Asia.

So if I had to make some large leaps, to me it seems he could have been born to a mixed family of (maybe) Uzbeks and (likely Russian Ashkenazi) Jews. As they would have lived under what we can assume was the Soviet Union given we see various military vehicles with red stars on them in flashbacks. We can assume he or his family probably moved somewhere else in the Soviet Bloc to pursue higher education or better opportunities generally. Which is why he ends up in roughly where Ooo begins which is implied to be Central Europe, specifically Germany given that he interacted with the mother gum and Bonnie speaks fluent German as a second language in every dub except the German version (where she speaks Turkish iirc, which isn’t anything direct, but would be a funny coincidence that Simon is seemingly Turkic).

So piecing some things together it seems like he’s mixed race from Central Asia, and then at some point moved out west. And seemingly from Cheers being like the only show he remembers and has fond memories of, as well as a total lack of any family being mentioned, he escaped into West Germany to pursue his academic career which required a lot of travel looking for the most fucked up cursed artifacts at some point. Also all of his artifacts being of a truly magical nature as he believes probably wouldn’t have been received well at all in the State Atheist USSR, whereas in the west it’s still looked down on but not something the government would like actively clamp down on unlike in the USSR.

Which also explains why in his memories there is largely western architecture despite his Russian last name. And since we know what caused things to go wrong is the “Mushroom War” which was obviously a nuclear war which explains all the wrecked military vehicles where he was surviving. As a nuclear war between NATO and the Warsaw Pact would have seen a huge amount of extreme fighting in Germany as both sides had intended to push through Central Europe in case of war.

This is all basically empty conjecture, but to me at least the pieces fit together and build up a more well rounded origin for Simon. It could also explain a little bit about why he survived beyond the crown. He likely spent a lot of his youth moving around to escape poverty, and had to be resourceful during that time. On top of escaping across one of the most guarded borders in history, it is no small feat.

It at least makes a bit more sense to me of how a brown man, with a Russian last name, who brings up Jewish food, ended up in what seems to be West Germany, and had a career as a niche archeologist looking for actual legit magic artifacts around the world.

[yumemiruuuu]

“Qi Rong thoughts that followed me around like how baby Qi Rong followed his Cousin around like a scrunkly, rabid raccoon”

because as someone who gets upset but can’t effectively voice their frustrations, I get serotonin from watching a scrunkly little green man be stinky and cause a scene

First and foremost, how did he go from being just a brat to straight up submissive and breed-able bratty bottom?

No, like, seriously. These are two completely different individuals??? One is just a brat, and the other is a breed-able bratty bottom, and I’ll be honest here, it took me such a long time to fully appreciate the donghua design because I was so used to STARember’s design. And yes, I threw a fit to every single person I know about how vastly different his design is, I can show you the receipt.

Since his height isn’t listed… (as far as I’m aware), I’m convinced that he’s the shortest adult character in the series (yes, shorter than Ling Wen… who is TALLER than Xie Lian??????) Thus, if he were to be a dog, I can imagine him as a chihuahua. And everyone around him would be like “awww is the tiny little pookie angry???” and just make fun of him, because that’s what people do to angry Chihuahuas for some reason.

This is him throwing a fit at Pei Ming (yes, PM is a German Shepherd in my mind. Yes, I will make videos on this.)

That one specific plot-point in the novel where HC and XL are in a shack/inn and QI RONG WAS THE COOK??? Like WHAT?? Chef Boyardee who? I only know Chef Qi Rong

He’s also unfortunately selectively intelligent??? Which actually makes sense since he did grow up as a part of the royal family. And I feel like a lot of people forget that. But at the same time, even without the royal background, I feel like he has a certain sense of intelligence…. that comes from… god knows where???? And that’s kinda scary to think about, because imagine if he actually put his full thinking cap on 😭😭

Bro just straight up Out-Gay-ed Shi Qingxuan, which… I didn’t even know was possible. Like, when he flicked his wrist, I almost expected him to go: ✨✨SLAYYYY 💅✨✨

Please don’t forget the “waist snatched, tits out” potential with this man. Donghua version. Manhua version would never.

Disfigured Pikmin Qi Rong

Did I talk about “DOG HUA CHENG” and “DOG FUCKED XIE LIAN” already? Because like… despite the nasty implications, he was definitely onto something. He probably just didn’t realize to what extent 😭

I just want an official plush of this man so that I can use him as a soccer ball when it’s pouring outside and kick him around into puddles and mud and… yeah

I could have sworn I had more thoughts of him but I can’t remember now so maybe there will be a part two 🤔🤔

Oh yeah, I just remembered my friend telling me about how his name means face of sorrow or pity or something like that and just… CAN YOU IMAGINE. I need to go into a wholeass thing with this some day because when I realized that, I did not feel okay 😭