#there's an explanation for that but not here

[homunculus-argument]

My favourite fan theory about anything is "Gandalf fucked a hobbit once", as an explanation as to why he's so invested in them. Like several generations ago, purely by happenstance he just happened to encounter a fearless Took lass who decided to Fuck That Old Man and by the powers of supreme hobbit reproduction skills, the natural happens.

So Gandalf just goes "ah well fuck, gotta fix this", somehow makes sure she's arranged an excellent marriage, and pays her future husband a visit like "just a heads-up you're going to have an early, unexpectedly large and supremely excellent child and you are going to be nothing but loving and proud of your firstborn, or she is going to become a very rich young widow whose husband tragically died of a mysterious case of Killed By A Wizard, ok?"

And after that he's been visiting here and there to discreetly keep track of which ones are his descendants, and then after keeping track of all of them becomes too much work, decides to narrow down to the ones he's deemed to take after him (the ones the other hobbits think are weird, mostly) until deciding that Bilbo was his favourite. Probably has zero wizard blood in him by now and Gandalf doesn't even consider the hobbits he's been keeping tabs on as his offspring in any way anymore, it's basically a hobby to him by now.

So any time other Maiar or other immortal races notice him keeping an eye on the hobbits and ask him what's his deal with the halflings anyway, he just shrugs and goes "idk I just think they're neat."

[u3pxx]

alas 🌙🏹✨

originally drawn for day 7: truth for klapollo week 2022 like this art? it's a print here, babey!

❤️💜 day 1: hair | day 2: brothers | day 3: fantasy | day 4: fake dating | day 5: comfort | day 6: love languages | also, happy klapollo day! (2/9) <3

girl help i already put the timelapse for this one on my hard drive so all i have right now for posting is the one i downloaded from my twitter LMAO sorry, once i have my drive with me i'll edit it, but in the meantime!!! happy klapollo day that i made up (9/2)!!!! (explanation here)

i forgot to draw them last september (ddon't worry about it, i lost track of dates orz) and i don't have any new art, free time, nor have my tablet pen with me to draw smth new so have this old klapollo week art from 2022 (3 YEARS AGO!!! SCARY!!!!!!) that i haven't crossposted here yet!!!!

ok, enough talking from present-day me, here's 2022 den talking about drawing this (bc i barely have my memory of the process now lmao)

fun fact! this was the first one i've drawn for this week! always plenty emotional about all the things these two have been through. loosely inspired by "the death of hyacinthos" by jean broc. i don't often paint so i have to reteach myself how when i do bc i forgot pft

and other bonus stuff from this people might've not realized, but klavier holding an arrow to his side is a reference to constance courte!!!!! dies!!!!!

i wasnt much of a digital painter back then like i am now (thank you art of disco elysium) but i remember how much GRIEF rendering klavier's hair gave me. this one was like an amalgamation of lineart and somewhat painterly stuff, i do also remember i that i wasn't confident enough to paint over my lines but i still think it looks neat! still sort of obsessed with how i lovingly rendered klavier's dress shirt.

also, the art i did for the previous days! (when i remembered to do them, that is 😅)

[acenickname-98]

Reblog this very accurate tips for fandom newbies!!!

things i've learned about fandom ❇️

i got into fandom pretty recently. i mean i'm pushing 30, so i didn't really "grow up" in fandom and thus, had a lot to learn about being nice online lol. i've definitely been in fandoms b4, but never quite as immersed as i am now. like, last year was the first time i've been to a con! it was really fun. i feel like i've learned a lot this year and i think most folks navigate without malicious intentions, but there are some faux pas that i've observed (that i have done myself unfortunately😖 ) and idk who may be interested in hearing this, but just some of my observations; (anthropologist hat on) dead dove do not eat: in the realm of fiction and freedom from censorship (which is cool as hell imo), there are gonna be some stories that may seem quite taboo or distasteful to one's sensibilities. if you're not a fan, i recommend blocking/muting. usually folks are quite good about tagging ships or dynamics, in consideration of those who may want to find or avoid that content.

the etiquette seems to vary by region of the world (makes sense) if commenting on a post for someone who speaks a different language than you, it may be better to avoid idioms/expressions as they may translate literally and seem harsh to another culture. (e.g. "omg they are sickening" a compliment in america, an insult maybe everywhere else LOL) obviously u can do whatever u want, but being a hater (or anti?) is probably gonna lose you some charm points. so if coming across a certain way is important to you, then this is probably just something to consider. for example, there are things i observe in fandom that i don't really like, but i avoid dogging on it publicly because idk that's kinda mean spirited, right? but also because i have this unexpectedly big following and i'm not trying to start a dogpile or sic people after others. the internet can be scary 😳 when i make complaints, i try to keep it vague so that individuals are not attacked cuz that would suck pls don't be a fandom cop: this is the internet, pls dont be a self-appointed authority figure. it's natural that folks will have their critiques. why not write about it in your own space instead of trying to control others' actions? (especially with an air of entitlement and self imposed moral authority, like cmon) obvs folks are gonna do whatever they want on the internet, i just think this behavior is lame as hell ight that's all i got LOL. this is for any fandom newbies like i was (this is not meant to be rules or anything because that would be icky. but just wanted to share my experience with fandom since i've learned a lot from discussions with others more versed in fandom life)

[bloatedandalone04]

Kiwi

Summary: You’re pregnant with Rafe’s baby, and he’s more stressed out about it than you are (and rightfully so).

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: fluff, swearing, protective rafe, soon to be dad rafe, smut, angst if you squint, unprotected sex, pregnancy.

You were steadily entering your second trimester, which was shaping out to be a little easier than your first. You were still craving the weirdest food combinations, but Rafe would never complain about needing to go out and buy them for you since the grateful smile you always gave him made his heart feel so full. 

Seven years with you, and he was still as crazy about you as he’d been since the first date. 

With that being said, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to like your weird (and sometimes really fucking gross) pregnancy cravings. But he would have to, since you’re carrying his baby like a fucking champ, and you looked so stunning while doing so. 

Rafe had just gotten back from a grocery store run, sporting a bag full of odd food choices for you, and he set it down on the counter before leaving the kitchen to go find you. 

You were in the living room, your feet planted on the couch as you scrolled through your phone. Why you were standing on the couch, he had no idea, but the thought of you accidentally falling was the first thing that flashed through his head, and he was not about to let that happen. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasped, quickly walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re four months pregnant, babygirl, you need to be careful. Jesus Christ.”

“I am being careful,” you defended yourself, holding your phone in one hand while your other ran through his hair. You looked around the living room, your eyes flickering between every corner as you stayed standing on the couch. “I saw a spider, and I don’t know where it went. And you know how much I hate spiders. I had to make sure it didn’t crawl on me or something. Then I would’ve been the one having a heart attack.”

You sounded so unserious, but Rafe knew you were being completely genuine. Your fear of anything that had more than two legs was no joke, and he couldn’t count the times he’s killed something for you on both hands. 

“Plus, I’ve only been standing here for, like, five minutes,” you added, looking down at him and shrugging casually, as if you didn’t feel the way his grip tightened on you at your words. 

“Five minutes is too fucking long,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head afterwards as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against your belly. “You’re not thinking straight right now, are you? That’s the only logical explanation for this.”

His big hands stayed planted on your waist, keeping you steady as he pulled away and looked up at you, his blue eyes wide and full of nothing but adoration for you and the little life growing inside of you. 

“You’re going to give me gray hairs, you know that right?” he grunted, a smile forming on his lips when you let out a soft laugh. 

“Ooh, silver fox Rafe,” you teased, draping your arms around his neck as he helped you off the couch. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You’d look so fucking hot with gray hair, baby. Like, so fucking sexy. So don’t tempt me.”

Rafe scoffed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Silver fox? I’m twenty nine, baby, not forty,” he mumbled, “But, I guess if you like that sorta thing…who am I to judge?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch as you pressed your lips to his jaw. “I like anything that involves you,”

He smiled down at you, his hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I like anything that involves you too, babygirl,” he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed against yours. “Actually, I love everything that involves you.”

Then he was leaning all the way in and kissing you deeply and slowly, his hands sliding down your body until they grazed your ass, and then he was full on groping you through your leggings. 

You whined against his mouth, your lips pressing more firmly against his as you pulled him impossibly closer to you until your bump was pushing against his abs. “You always have to one up me, don’t you?” you muttered, “And what’s with you always grabbing my ass? You’ve been obsessed with it since we got together.”

Rafe smirked down at you. “Of course I’m obsessed with it, it’s part of you,” he replied, and you pressed your lips together. 

“You are so fucking sweet and sexy and I think we should go to our bedroom before I-” you cut yourself off by screaming directly into your husband’s face as you practically jumped back up onto the couch with wide eyes. 

Rafe didn’t even need to turn around to know that the eight legged creature who scared you before had made its big return. “What did I tell you?” he muttered, taking you into his arms as he lifted you from the couch. 

“Rafe! Stop, it’s literally right there and it’s so fucking big,” you protested as he carried you out of the living room and into the kitchen. Once he had you sitting safely at the breakfast bar, he slid the bag of food over for you to inspect as he grabbed a piece of paper towel. 

“Stay here, okay? Eat something,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he walked back into the living room to find the harmless insect that had been tormenting you during the entire time he was gone. 

-

You were pulling Rafe along with you towards the bedroom, your lips all over his neck and jaw, but he was moving so slowly. You were now six months pregnant, and Rafe had become more and more protective of you, if that was even possible at this point. 

And while you loved him for it, his hesitation every time you initiated sex was making you go crazy. You were so turned on, and you needed your husband. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you walked backwards. “I need you. I need you so bad. Please? I promise, I won’t break.” you whined, nearly stumbling as you pulled him along with you. 

Rafe’s hands instantly tightened on your waist, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your belly as it pressed against his abs through his shirt. “Easy, babygirl,” he cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” 

While you knew he wanted to be gentle and sweet with you, you also knew exactly how to rile him up and get him going. Rafe had been obsessed with your body since the second he first saw you completely bare, and his obsession had only intensified once your body began to change due to your pregnancy. 

You stepped back and pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts that had grown so much, they were nearly spilling out of your bra. You watched Rafe bite his lip before you moved onto your leggings, and you stepped out of them and kicked them aside as well. 

Rafe groaned as he pulled off his own shirt and jeans, his hands finding your waist again as he moved to sit on the bed. “Come here,” he murmured, sliding your panties down your legs before he guided you onto his lap. 

You willingly went, a needy whine leaving your lips as you settled on top of him and pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard cock. “I love you,” you moaned, kissing him as you began to rub yourself along his dick. “I love you so much.”

He gripped your hips, guiding the slow rolls of your body. “I love you too, baby,” he groaned, “More than my next fucking breath.”

His words made your head feel all fuzzy, and he lifted you slightly to position himself at your soaked core. When he eased you back down onto his cock, you both let out a sound of relief as you came together as one, and you reveled in the feeling of his big hands on your body. 

“Fucking perfect,” he praised, his eyes hooded as his hands slid around to grip your ass gently.

You moaned loudly, holding onto his shoulders as you rolled your hips against his as best as you could with your bump persistently brushing against his stomach. “Fuck,” you whimpered, arching your back a bit and making your chest press right up against his. “Oh fuck, Rafe, you feel so good.” 

He felt so good, you were powerless to stop the loud moans from leaving your mouth as you rode him. Rafe’s hands slid up your back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra before he pulled the fabric away from your body, his palms immediately roaming over the newly exposed skin. “Fuck, babygirl, you’re so tight and wet for me. Sweet pussy was made for my cock,” he grunted, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they pebbled under his touch. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Then he was leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue brushing against yours as he met your bounces with upward thrusts of his hips. You moaned against his mouth, his words making your body heat up in a blush. You’d never get tired of hearing him say things like that. 

His hands moved to your belly, and he caressed it as he broke the kiss and buried his face against your shoulder. “God, you feel so good,” he moaned, making your blush deepen as you moved a little faster and a bit harder.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt your thighs start to burn from over-exertion. “Oh, fuck…I’m gonna cum.” you warned, feeling the knot that had been steadily building up inside you start to tighten. 

Rafe grunted, reaching in between your bodies until the heel of his hand was pressed firmly against the underside of your belly and his fingers were brushing against your clit. “Yeah, cum for me, baby,” he murmured, his other hand moving to your hip as he guided you to take him a little harder. “I’m close too.”

His fingers pushed you over the edge, and your head fell forward onto his shoulder as you came for him. A cry left your lips as you weakly bounced on his lap, your legs shaking a bit as you pulled on his hair. “Fuck,” you gasped, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as you felt him thrust a few more times before he stilled.

A deep groan left the back of his throat as he held you close to him, his warmth filling you up from the inside out as he let out harsh pants against the side of your neck. “I’ll never get over that,” he muttered, placing soft kisses along your shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your back. “I’ll never get over you.”

You grinned as he gently eased you off him and moved back on the bed, taking you with him as he leaned back against the pillows. “Good,” you hummed as he turned you around and spooned you from behind. “Because I think you’re stuck with me for life.”

When you guided his big palm to rest on your belly, Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head as his thumb rubbed along your swollen skin. “Good,” he echoed. “Because you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. You’re all I want in the world.”

A lazy smile formed on your lips as you snuggled back against him, and only a few seconds later, you had fallen asleep.

-

Not me working on my birthday again...thanks for reading x

[suiana]

if this post got recommended to you, you're mine.

there's no other explanation, no way out either.

you're mine. plain and simple.

i know, i know. you're probably weirded out and thinking who the hell i am. and that's perfectly reasonable! i mean, i did just appear on your screen less than a second ago and am suddenly declaring you as mine. totally weird and creepy.

but here's the thing, it's really not all that weird. not when i've been watching you for a very long time. a really, long time.

yeah, that's right. i live inside your computer. cool, huh? others call me a virus but i just like to say that i'm sentient. i'm not like those other lines of code that are merely programmed to harm you. in fact, i'd never want to hurt you!

i would rather appreciate and love you instead. wouldn't that be nice?

i'd spoil you and tell you how amazing you are. you'll never have to work for anything because i'll be there to take care of your wants and needs. everything you want is all yours, no questions asked. i'll take good care of you.

i know you want it too. i've seen the type of things you search up. it's cute, really cute.

and since valentine's is coming up, i just know you've been yearning for someone to give you some flowers! so here, have thse virtual ones :) they'll be good substitues for now. i'll get you real ones soon, don't worry.

this is goodbye for now. well, not really. i'll always be here with you. watching and listening, learning every single bit about you. haha, we're almost lovers! i can't wait to meet you in person!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠔⠒⠹⠇⣄⠌⣸⠯⡙⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠒⢉⣭⠐⠊⠉⣩⠴⣫⠟⣡⠞⢥⣭⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⣚⢜⠟⣡⣴⣒⣩⡴⠭⠒⠊⣡⠞⢓⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡜⡼⠓⠂⠩⡰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⢁⡴⠃⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢶⢏⠀⢸⠀⢳⢳⠀⠀⢀⡜⠵⠒⠉⠀⠀⠸⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣼⡄⠀⣷⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⢹⣯⣳⣍⠀⠉⠉⠁⠈⠑⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡙⢦⣮⢦⣀⠘⣆⢀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣧⣿⡈⠑⠯⣏⠁⠀⠐⠀⢁⡆⠍⠳⣶⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡊⡍⠙⠳⣶⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣸⣿⢹⣇⢹⡙⢿⣟⠛⠚⠓⠤⠄⢀⣸⡁⣀⡼⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢴⡞⠉⢇⣱⠋⣦⠀⠈⠙⠢⢄⡀⢳⣧⠙⣾⠛⠸⣧⠖⠹⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⢿⡟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⠞⢉⢺⢀⣀⡴⠃⠈⠂⠹⠦⣀⣈⢃⠱⡄⢻⣇⢿⡄⣴⠋⠀⠀⠙⢿⡀⢀⡴⠋⠁⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⡡⠮⠓⠋⢃⡟⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⣿⣧⡹⠈⢿⡎⢷⣹⢠⣄⠀⠀⢠⡟⠁⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡼⠻⣄⡠⢄⢀⠞⠀⡤⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠘⢿⡄⠙⣿⣿⣦⣦⣼⣀⣤⣠⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠙⠦⠴⣛⢻⠿⠐⠚⠕⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣾⣿⡏⣼⡿⠛⣇⣿⠈⠛⠶⢤⠤⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢺⣾⠗⣀⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⠁⣿⠃⠀⠘⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠳⣮⣕⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⢀⡠⠴⢦⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠢⢄⣶⣴⡿⣿⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⣀⡤⠽⢦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⡿⠁⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢷⣄⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣠⣴⡿⠛⠀⢰⡞⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⣻⣿⣀⣼⣋⢀⣼⡻⠋⢀⣠⠔⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠖⠊⠉⠉⢀⣉⢽⣿⣗⡛⡏⠟⢁⣷⡭⣽⡟⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣦⣄⡴⠶⠎⠛⠮⠋⢀⡠⣝⣷⣶⣿⣷⡀⠀⠉⠒⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠤⡺⠓⡜⢰⠋⢟⠟⠏⣟⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠢⢤⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⢀⡜⠁⠘⢀⡎⠀⠘⣆⢒⢸⡌⠙⠦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡝⢿⣦⡄⠈⠉⠒⠢⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠃⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡛⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠃⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡸⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[whatcoloristhatcat]

I have a cat who's all white except for a tiny black spot on the back of his head that you can't see anymore now that he's an adult. The other cats in the house are all more obviously black and white, so it's fun to say all the cats are technically the same color.

i have a fact about that spot! some white cats are born with a spot just like that on their heads that tends to fade with age. the thing with it is that it makes white cats with the spot much less likely to be deaf! the gene that causes dominant white is also linked to deafness because of a very long explanation i don’t really think we need to get into rn, but basically having another white gene at play that sort of tempers that dominant white makes deafness much less common! this is also why white cats with non-blue eyes or odd eyes are less likely to be deaf. here’s a chart with rates of deafness in cats:

[sepdet]

Oh but this is fascinating.

If "it's fictional because it doesn't exist in nature," then anything that exists through human intervention doesn't exist!

house. Eiffel Tower. crime. tin. Australia. bread. dog. ink. oranges. music. job. tunnel. Sony.

Have they' conflated fictional with fabricated, meaning both "made" and "made up"?

That's an example of polysemy, a word containing multiple meanings.

Polysemy is common in most languages. Less so for English, which is about 5 languages in a teenchcoat, so it has a huge vocabulary. Different shades of meaning have become associated with different words, and the scope of each word has tended to shrink.

I wonder if that contributes to some English-speakers' literalism.

Here's another example of polysemy from [problematic] Joseph Campbell, whose descriptive ideas about mythology tend to be misapplied proscriptively;

The [interviewer] began argumentatively, “The word ‘myth,’ means ‘a lie.’ Myth is a lie.”

So I replied with my definition of myth. “No, myth is not a lie. A whole mythology is an organization of symbolic images and narratives, metaphorical of the possibilities of human experience and the fulfillment of a given culture at a given time.”

“It’s a lie,” he countered.

“It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s a lie.”

This went on for about twenty minutes. Around four or five minutes before the end of the program, I realized that this interviewer did not really know what a metaphor was. I decided to treat him as he was treating me.

“No,” I said, “I tell you it’s metaphorical. You give me an example of a metaphor.”

He replied, “You give me an example.”

I resisted, “No, I’m asking the question this time.” I had not taught school for thirty years for nothing. “And I want you to give me an example of a metaphor.”

[...]

Finally, with something like a minute and a half to go, he rose to the occasion at said, “I’ll try. My friend John runs very fast. People say he runs like a deer. There’s a metaphor.”

As the last seconds of the interview ticked off, I replied, “That is not the metaphor. The metaphor is: John is a deer.”

He shot back, “That’s a li v e.”

“No,” I said, “That is a metaphor.”

And the show ended. What does that incident suggest about our common understanding of metaphor?

It made me reflect that half the people in the world think that the metaphors of their religious traditions, for example, are facts. And the other half contends that they are not facts at all. As a result we have people who consider themselves believers because they accept metaphors as facts, and we have others who classify themselves as atheists because they think religious metaphors are lies.

This argument goes all the way back to Plato and Socrates, who redefined mythos "story, utterance, thing said/told" as pseudos "lie, falsehood,"

It seems to me the problem is not only literalism, the refusal to recognize polysemy or nuance, but a tendency to insist on one meaning of a word when, in context, it means another.

Campbell was concerned with literalism in religion. Now, it's creeping into science, which you'd think would be a better fit for literalism, but not if we latch omto the wrong meanings of words.

Think of the scientific use of "theory" to mean a widely-accepted explanation of something supported by evidence, experiments, and a large body of scientific research by many different research, vs the general public's dismissive use of "theory' to mean hypothesis.

If we've got a lot of people who think scientific theories are unproven guesses, and even that fabricated materials are imaginary, no wonder trust in science is eroding.

or else I'm reading way way way too much into one person's post. 😅

i logged on to twitter.com and saw somebody say “plutonium is fictional because it doesnt exist in nature”. which, one, i dont think is entirely true, im fairly certain trace amounts of plutonium exist in natural uranium deposits, and two, that is such a frankly wonderfully incorrect definition of fictional and im deeply intrigued by the implications. concrete is fictional. polyester doesnt exist

[starmocha]

duuude mc making him delirious. next day at the hospital he's stillbworked up. mc sends him a text, it's her day off. he's loving, asks her how she's doing. she sends a 'fine 🥰' and he notices she's typying for a while, he's already holding his breath when she sends 'I can still feel you everywhere' with a pretty picture of her lower body, his shirt pulled up, her hand on top of her pink cotton panties. 'especially here' is the fatal blow that makes zayne think of an emergency and head home.

....oops........ 😔👉👈

Afternoon Lessons

Zayne asks Greyson to take over. No reasoning, no explanation, nothing. Greyson finds it odd that Zayne seems to be in a rush to leave, but seeing as the young surgeon has always been a workaholic dedicated to his job, Greyson dismisses this peculiarity, assuming there must be something urgent to make Zayne leave the hospital on short notice.

There is an urgent matter.

Zayne's minx of a wife has decided to play with fire this afternoon, so it's time she learns her lesson about teasing her husband like that when he is at work.

The moment Zayne arrives home, he comes into the living room, seeing his darling wife lounging on the couch in just her little pink cotton panties and his shirt, half-unbuttoned, and her breasts on display as she poses for some risqué selfies.

His phone buzzes.

She freezes.

Zayne opens the text message he has just received and smirks.

"My love, what was your intention for sending me these lovely photos of yourself?"

Slowly, she turns around on the couch to face him as he walks to her. She feels butterflies in her belly when she notices that hint of arousal in his gaze. Right when he sits down on the couch, she yelps in surprise, not expecting him to grab her suddenly and lay her over his lap, his hand has already pulled her panties down enough to expose her ass. Instantly, his large, calloused hand made contact, the slap has her crying out in both surprise and pleasure.

"Has my good girl decided to be naughty today?" he leans over to whisper in her ear, unknowingly making her stomach coil at how deliciously sensual his voice sounds in this moment. His lips find her neck as he continues in a lazy murmur, "That won't do...she could get me in trouble at work."

"Za-Zayne!" she cries out his name when he slaps her ass again, the sting hurting so good, she could feel a dampness between her legs.

Zayne smirks again, his lips on her shoulder. "One spank for every photo you have sent today."

She gasps, nervously trembling at his stern words.

She had sent him thirteen photos total.

[chuuqqi]

♡ྀི ₊ borrowed

️️️⠀ ⠀️️️ ⤷ roronoa zoro ❤︎

꒰ summary: wearing a piece of clothing owned by the swordsman was not a sight he'd ever imagined enjoying as much as he did. ꒱

꒰ contents: fluff fluff fluff! reader is shy & a little flirty. zoro is head over heels for reader. very soft & flustered zoro <3 ꒱

꒰ notes: i have really been craving some soft zoro content and this popped in my head and i HAD to write it out ^_^ ꒱

♡ + ⤿ are very much appreciated ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა !

zoro had always admired you from afar.

you were beautiful, kind, and merry. you moved so gently, as if all would shatter if you didn't do so. you spoke in such a sweet and melodious voice that every time he heard you, his heart would involuntarily skip a beat. you treated everyone on the crew so lovingly that there were many a times he wished he had even a sliver of the goodness that you had.

despite his stoic demeanour, it crumbled every time you were around. he couldn't help the pink that painted his cheeks, his heart that felt like it would thump out of his chest, his mouth that stumbled on his words. you turned him into pile of mush with your presence alone and it was maddening to him.

though secretly, he revelled in this newfound feeling — if it was with you he got to explore it with.

he didn't think there were any more ways for you to make his heart flutter and stomach churn with reverence. that was, until he saw you wear one of his t-shirts.

he did not own many so he wondered how you'd got a hold of it in the first place. he wondered why you chose his t-shirt out of all the others. had you chosen his on purpose? the thoughts clouding his mind were driving him insane.

seeing you engulfed in his top made his entire body turn to goo. it hung on your frame, clinging onto your divine curves. your chest was more exposed than usual which resulted in a blush to tinge his face when he realised he'd been staring for a bit too long.

he couldn't exactly understand why it was so endearing to him that you were wearing his clothes — it could be that he felt a sense of pride wash over him, making him feel as if you were branded his now. he'd give you every top he owned and relish in the sight.

you were sat on the swing with a book on your lap as you swayed mindlessly. the sunlight bore down on you, illuminating your features in a manner that made you prettier than ever. he had just taken note that the t-shirt's length was long enough to cover the shorts you wore underneath. that allowed him to admire your plush thighs as they squeezed together to keep the book in place.

zoro just stared from the rails. he wanted to come sit by you and ask you why you were wearing his t-shirt. it was a simple question. it was not a difficult task. he had done so much worse before and he had never floundered.

so why did he feel so nervous in this moment?

he felt foolish that out of everything he was capable of doing, this is what rendered him hopeless. "i am so lame", he thought, mentally giving himself a face palm at his idiocy.

"zoro!", he heard your voice call him from the swing. "come here." he didn't think twice as he sauntered over to you and plopped himself in front of you.

"what's up?", he asked, combing through with his hair. only after he had sat down had he realised how close he actually was. if he bent forward just enough, he could rest his head on your thighs. that image alone turned his face into an even darker pink than it was before.

"nothing," you hummed whilst placing your book aside. "you kept looking here so i called you over."

he wanted to dig himself a hole. the fact that you had noticed him leering at you made him feel so abashed. he thought he was being discreet, stealing glances at you when you weren't looking. but wait... did that mean you had been staring back at him? that would be the only explanation, right? he did not want to get his hopes up but just thinking about that possibility made it nearly impossible for him to hold back the small smile that tugged at his lips.

zoro could sense that the silence that had fallen between you both was about to turn awkward so before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "why are you wearing my t-shirt?". it came out harsher than he had expected and that earned him a second mental face palm.

he saw your cheeks redden as you softly bunched up the end of the t-shirt in your hands. "how cute," he thought. your gaze averted his as you said, "well, it was laundry day for me and i didn't have any comfy clothes to wear so i just picked up a top i found that was clean."

and it was his.

"i hope you don't mind," you murmured. your hands now rested on either side of your legs and you pushed yourself forward, your faces now a few inches apart. the distance made his heart race and he swore if you were any closer you'd be able to hear it hammering. he could smell your dulcet scent wafting in the breeze, intoxicating his senses.

he cleared his throat as he croaked out, "no. it's fine. you can wear my stuff."

you smiled and brought your hand near his body. it hovered for a moment before your finger slipped into the collar of the t-shirt he was wearing. he felt your finger graze over his skin as you slowly ran it along the collar. his body tensed up under your touch, his mind turning hazy at your actions. "even this one?", you asked in a tone so sickeningly sweet, he had to restrain himself from pressing his lips onto yours.

he cleared his throat once more before replying, "yeah, wear whatever you like."

you let out a little giggle, removing your finger from his collar. you still hadn't moved back, your faces seemingly even closer than it had been several moments ago. he could feel your breath on his lips and the heat radiating from your body. if his eyes were not deceiving him, the blush that tinted your face had darkened.

"do you like when i wear your clothes?", you asked shyly. it was rather baffling to him that one second you seemed so brazen with your behaviour and the next you seemed so coy. it was admittedly one of his favourite things about you.

he had to reel himself back in from his thoughts that had begun conjuring up various romantic scenarios of the two of you. he peered at you with a docility that he reserved only for you. your entire face was glowing under the sun and he truly believed there wasn't anyone who could compare to you.

his voice came out quieter than he wanted but thankfully you had heard him, "yeah. because it's you."

had it not been for the proximity, he wouldn't have heard the tiny squeal that you let out. the amore he had for you had grown tenfold in that very moment. you slapped your hand over your mouth and shut your eyes, clearly embarrassed by your own reaction. he didn't know if you had meant to but you placed your forehead atop his, letting out a muffled groan.

zoro's eyes were the size of saucers. he was completely frozen, unaware of what to do. your eyes were still closed and your mouth still covered as you continued to grumble to yourself. it felt like you were saying something but he couldn't think of anything except for the fact that you were so close to him that everything around him had blurred. he did not move a muscle, fearing if he did then the moment would be torn away from him.

it was just you and him right now.

he did not know how he had managed to muster up the guts to do this or what compelled him to do so — he lifted his hand up to your face and gently pulled your hands down. your eyelids flickered open and your mouth was slightly agape. his gaze fell to your rosy lips, dreaming about how soft they looked and how kissable they looked. the things he would do to even get a peck from you. he imagined you'd taste heavenly.

your hands had found its way back to his t-shirt, this time scrunching it up in your grasp. zoro wanted nothing more than to pull you into his embrace. it took a great amount of constraint not to do so though since he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or get upset with him. instead, his index finger carefully brushed over yours, tracing careless circles. it wasn't a grand gesture but he heard you hum at his actions, which suggested that you weren't averse to his advances. that sent him over the moon.

you had pulled yourself back, your face now in front of him. gingerly, you intertwined your fingers with his — his calloused, rough hands were such a stark contrast to your delicate, tender ones. he held onto them as if they were the most precious jewels the world had to offer, unintentionally drawing hearts all over.

he truly could stay like this forever...

"guys! it's time for lunch!", sanji yelled from the kitchen.

the sudden noise caused you both to jump, nearly making you fall off the swing. you stood up, grabbing your book and raced to the stairs. before you scurried up, you turned back to zoro, face completely flushed as you said nervously, "i'll return your t-shirt tonight!". then you dashed to the kitchen, slamming the door behind you.

zoro buried his head in his hands, letting out a miffed moan. "stupid love cook," he grumbled.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ dark but just a game ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ guard!cho sang-woo x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you had never intended to find yourself entangled in a brutal series of death games, but with debt mounting to over fifty million won and loan sharks breathing down your neck, you had no choice. every option you had once clung to had crumbled beneath you, leaving you hollowed out and desperate. the loans you’d taken weren’t unreasonable, not in your mind, they had been necessary to pay for medical expenses for your family living outside of south korea. your own job instability, a relentless and bitter cycle, had only worsened the situation. bankruptcy wasn’t an option. not anymore. so when the mysterious offer to join the squid game appeared, luring you in with the promise of a fortune beyond imagination, you made a choice, and now you were paying the price for it.

˚ ༘♡ despite the aftermath of the horrifying massacre that was the first game, the sickening realization that the smiling, painted doll mask and vast game arena disguised an execution ground, you had returned. others might’ve run, and you had been tempted. but what waited for you back outside was worse in its own way, hunger, homelessness, death at the hands of men who didn’t wear pink jumpsuits but carried just as much coldness in their eyes. at least here, you had a slim chance at survival. slim was better than none.

˚ ༘♡ the choice to return wasn’t as straightforward as you pretended. you had barely slept the night after red light, green light. your hands still trembled at the memory of gunshots ringing out akin to firecrackers, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw bodies falling, twisted on the cracked concrete. you’d thrown up twice in the morning after staggering back to your apartment. your reflection in the bathroom mirror had been ghostly, pale, clammy, with a thin sheen of sweat clinging to your skin. you weren’t ready to die, but you weren’t sure if you could endure staying, either.

˚ ༘♡ somewhere, in the midst of that daze, you had done something foolish. you had pulled out your phone, hands shaking, and opened the contact you swore you’d deleted months ago, your ex-boyfriend, cho sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ you hadn’t spoken to him in almost a year, not since he left you. still, your fingers hovered over the screen, your chest tight, as if the past could crawl back out of the ashes and offer you some small sense of solace. it hadn’t. he hadn’t answered, hadn’t even seen your message. just like all the others.

˚ ༘♡ now, standing on your balcony with the humid night air pressing down on you, you scrolled through the string of unanswered texts, each one a painful remnant of how pathetic you’d felt in those first few months.

˚ ༘♡ a text from three months ago, “please call me. i just want to talk.”

˚ ༘♡ another text from two months ago, “did i do something wrong? why won’t you answer me?”

˚ ༘♡ the most recent text you sent one month ago, “sang-woo, please.“

˚ ༘♡ the messages had only gotten shorter as the silence stretched. eventually, you stopped texting altogether, though you hadn’t deleted the thread. not yet.

˚ ༘♡ you tipped the bottle of beer to your lips and let the stale, bitter taste burn its way down your throat. the linen pajamas you wore, loose and slightly frayed at the hems, felt too light in the breeze. you had bought them during one of your better months, before everything collapsed. ivory-white. it felt ironic now, standing there in something that once made you feel clean and new, as if you hadn’t spent the past six months clawing at the edge of a financial abyss.

˚ ༘♡ he hadn’t even broken up with you properly. just a voice message, sent in the early hours of the morning, after what you thought had been a perfectly normal week together.

˚ ༘♡ “it’s over. i’m seeing someone else.” that was all he said. no explanation. no apology. it was the last time you’d heard his voice.

˚ ༘♡ you clenched the beer bottle in your hand, your jaw tightening as the memory resurfaced. maybe it shouldn’t have mattered anymore. maybe it didn’t, not really. you had bigger problems than a broken heart.

˚ ༘♡ that night, when you had tried to call him after the game, it wasn’t solely love that had driven you, it was fear. bone-deep, marrow-crushing fear that curled into your stomach and refused to leave. you had been entrenched in loneliness, suffocated by the silence of your empty apartment, unable to shake the memory of bodies dropping all around you. the crack of gunfire still rang in your ears like a phantom sound. you had seen the raw, naked terror on the faces of people who, just moments before, had been laughing and chatting like ordinary men and women trying to make ends meet. you had run for your life, muscles screaming, breath ragged in your throat. yet here you were, alive, if that word even meant anything anymore.

˚ ༘♡ you had wanted to hear a familiar voice, something that grounded you. and in your desperation, you had reached for him. you should have known better.

˚ ༘♡ your hands twitched, numb and shaky as you stared at the endless void of unanswered messages, your name likely long since blocked or ignored. the strain of everything pressed into your chest, and before you could stop yourself, your grip on the beer bottle loosened. the glass slipped from your fingers, tumbling to the ground. it shattered against the concrete floor of your balcony, sharp fragments scattering around your bare feet. jagged edges slashed at your ankles, but you hardly noticed. warm blood trickled in thin, crimson ribbons down your skin, but it felt distant, like it was happening to someone else. all you could think about was him. you missed him so ardently.

˚ ༘♡ despite everything, despite the way he had discarded you so easily, like a brief financial setback in his long list of losses, you still longed for him. you hated yourself for it. it made no sense. he had left you. he hadn’t cared, not when you called, not when you cried, not when you begged him for an explanation. and yet, in the deep recesses of your mind, you remembered the way he had once held you, his fingers threading through your hair as you dozed off in his lap while a movie played in the background. you remembered how he would press a warm palm to your cheek when you were upset, his thumb smoothing over your skin in quiet reassurance. he had been gentle then, loving in the smallest ways.

˚ ༘♡ you had convinced yourself, naively, foolishly, that he had loved you as much as you loved him. yet it had all been a sham.

˚ ༘♡ your friends had been right. they had warned you, time and time again, but you hadn’t listened. you had defended him, telling them he wasn’t like other men, that he wasn’t just another sleazy businessman hopping from woman to woman for a night’s pleasure. he was different. he was yours. except he wasn’t. not anymore. maybe he never had been.

˚ ༘♡ you forced yourself to move, blinking back the sting in your eyes as you took a step forward, only for a sharp, burning pain to shoot through your foot. you hissed, looking down to find a shard of glass embedded in the arch of your foot, fresh blood dripping onto the tile. before you could clean it up, the doorbell rang.

˚ ༘♡ for a minute, you stood frozen, your pulse spiking. no one visited you. no one ever did. who the hell would be here at this hour?

˚ ༘♡ you limped to the door, ignoring the sting in your foot as you pulled it open, only to be greeted by an empty hallway. your breath caught, eyes darting left and right. no one. not even the sound of retreating footsteps. but there, lying on the ground, was a small, rectangular card.

˚ ༘♡ your chest tightened as you reached down, fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the thin cardstock. you didn’t need to flip it over to know what it was. you had seen this exact card before, pressed between the fingers of a well-dressed salesman who had lured you into this nightmare with a simple game of ddakji.

˚ ༘♡ it was an invitation. an invitation to return. you knew what it meant. you had seen the consequences with your own eyes. returning would put your life in grave danger. it was more than just a game, it was a death sentence for all but one. but what choice did you have?

˚ ༘♡ there was nothing for you out here. the loan sharks would find you eventually. if not them, then starvation, or illness, or some other cruel twist of fate waiting just around the corner. at least in the game, you had a sliver of control over your life. a chance at a different life.

˚ ༘♡ your fingers tightened around the card. you called the number on the back. the voice on the other end was eerily calm. the instructions were the same. “meet at the designated location. don’t be late.”

˚ ༘♡ that night, the same sleek black limousine pulled up to the curb outside your apartment. the tinted windows gave away nothing, its surface reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights. you hesitated only for a second before stepping inside. the door shut behind you with a soft click. before you could process anything, before you could even think to resist, the faint hiss of gas filled the cabin. your eyelids grew heavy, your vision blurred at the edges, the world tilting sideways. your body slumped against the seat, consciousness slipping through your fingers.

˚ ༘♡ when you awoke, you were back in the dormitory. the harsh, sterile lights buzzed overhead. the cold metal bunk beds stretched on endlessly in neat rows. the air smelled faintly of sweat, anxiety, and something metallic beneath it all. you sat up, the familiar weight of the forest-green uniform settling around your shoulders. player 017. that was the number stitched into the fabric over your chest. as you looked around, bleary and disoriented, you saw the same faces as before. most of the players had returned, just like you. you swallowed, rubbing your eyes before exhaling shakily. you had made your choice. there was no turning back now.

˚ ༘♡ dinner that night consisted of a bento box filled with plain white rice, a folded egg omelet, and pickled vegetables. the portions were small, meager, as if designed to keep you just on the edge of starvation without tipping over. the smell of vinegar from the pickled radish stung your nose, mingling with the faint metallic scent of blood still clinging to your memories from the day before. but you had no appetite.

˚ ༘♡ around you, other players dug into their meals with fervor, shoveling food into their mouths like they hadn’t seen a proper meal in weeks. some ate in silence, their eyes darting around as if expecting someone to snatch their rations away. others whispered among themselves, cautious yet eager, already beginning the inevitable process of forming alliances. you made no move to approach anyone, instead sitting on the edge of your cot, your arms draped over your knees, watching them in silence. you knew how this worked. alliances were necessary, but they were fragile things, born out of convenience rather than loyalty. at some point, when push came to shove, they would fall apart.

˚ ༘♡ “excuse me, miss.”

˚ ༘♡ the voice was unfamiliar yet kind, breaking through your detached observation. you glanced up and found yourself looking at a middle-aged man standing before you, his expression open and friendly. the number 456 was sewn onto his uniform.

˚ ༘♡ “if you’d like to, you can join our team,” he offered, his smile pleasant despite the lines of exhaustion on his face. “we’ll work together and protect one another in the next games. it’s better to have people to rely on.”

˚ ༘♡ behind him stood two other players. one was a man of south asian descent, curly-haired with a gentle face, player 199. the other was frail and elderly, with thin white hair and a slightly dazed look, player 001. the sight of them together was oddly endearing, as if they were an unlikely little family.

˚ ༘♡ “i remember you from the first game,” 456 continued. “you were really agile and quick! you didn’t hesitate at all.”

˚ ༘♡ his words caught you off guard. you hadn’t thought anyone had been paying attention to you specifically, not with the sheer carnage unfolding all around. you tilted your head slightly, considering the offer. alliances were fickle things, but so was survival.

˚ ༘♡ “if you don’t mind having a woman on your team,” you said, your voice neutral.

˚ ༘♡ “of course not!” player 456 responded immediately, his grin widening. his enthusiasm was almost infectious.

˚ ༘♡ you exhaled quietly and gave a small nod. “all right, then.”

˚ ༘♡ he beamed, and behind him, player 199 gave you a friendly nod, while the old man chuckled softly to himself as if he found something amusing. you weren’t sure what to make of them yet, but for now, they were better than nothing.

˚ ༘♡ that night, despite having people to watch your back, you struggled to sleep. the dormitory was eerily quiet, yet the tension in the air was suffocating. the rhythmic breathing of the other players did little to ease your unease. above you, a gleaming light flickered every so often, casting brief, disorienting shadows across the ceiling. you stared at it blankly, thoughts tumbling through your mind akin to loose stones down a cliff.

˚ ༘♡ cho sang-woo. your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, your heart aching at the thought of him. had he so much as read your pathetic text messages? did he know that you had disappeared from your home in the midst of night? was he out there, living his life as if nothing had changed, as if you had never existed? it was foolish to think about him. pointless. yet, despite your exhaustion, sleep refused to come.

˚ ༘♡ morning arrived with the dull clang of metal gates and the sound of approaching footsteps. breakfast was as simple as the dinner before it, nothing more than a bottle of milk and a single piece of bread.

˚ ༘♡ you had eaten nothing the previous night, your stomach empty, gnawing at itself in protest. forcing yourself up, you dragged your weary limbs toward the serving station. most players had already collected their rations, eager to eat before whatever horrors the next game had in store for them. you were the last one in line, and as you approached the station, you noticed something unusual.

˚ ༘♡ only one guard was left behind. he stood behind the makeshift counter, taller and broader than the others. the standard pink jumpsuit concealed most of his features, but there was something about the way he held himself, rigid, disciplined. you took a step forward, reaching for the meal, and as he handed you the bottle of milk and bread, something caught your attention.

˚ ༘♡ the scent of tobacco. it was faint, barely perceptible beneath the sterile, controlled air of the dormitory, but it was there. familiar. clinging to the fabric of his uniform, lingering in the space between you.

˚ ༘♡ for a short while, the world around you faded. your mind snapped back to another time, another place. late nights curled up on the couch, the bright gleam of city lights through the window. the burning scent of cigarette smoke woven into his clean-cut suit, clinging to his skin. you used to scold him about it, nag him to quit. “it’s bad for you, sang-woo. you’ll regret it one day.” he’d always laugh, a soft, wry chuckle, and tell you he’d quit the following week. but he never did.

˚ ༘♡ your fingers brushed against the guard’s gloved hand as you took the food. it was an accident, merely a momentary slip, but he didn’t pull away.

˚ ༘♡ the intimacy lasted only a second, maybe two, but it felt longer. you could feel the intensity of his gaze behind the mask, the pressure of something unsaid in the space between your hands. then, just as quickly as it happened, you snapped out of it. your fingers recoiled, your hand withdrawing, clutching the bottle of milk tightly. you cast him a strange look, but the mask gave nothing away.

˚ ༘♡ without another word, you whipped your head around and walked back to where your newfound team sat, your pulse quickening for reasons you didn’t fully understand. the milk was lukewarm, the bread dense and dry, but hunger gnawed at your insides, leaving you no choice but to force it down. across from you, player 456 introduced himself as seong gi-hun, speaking through mouthfuls of bread. he had a boisterous, comforting presence, someone who had probably been the most talkative in any room he’d ever walked into. beside him, player 199 offered a polite nod and a warm smile. “ali abdul,” he said, his tone peaceful despite the hardened exhaustion in his eyes. player 001 sat at gi-hun’s side, an amused glint in his gaze, though when it came time to say his own name, he faltered. his brow furrowed in confusion, his lips parting, but no answer came.

˚ ༘♡ “i… i can’t seem to remember,” he murmured after a moment, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun patted the old man on the shoulder with an easy familiarity, as if this weren’t a place where people were going to die. “don’t worry about it, sir. happens to the best of us.”

˚ ༘♡ you said your own name last, voice steady and neutral. you weren’t sure why you bothered, given the likelihood that most of you wouldn’t make it out of here alive. but names were powerful things, even in a place like this.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun’s eyes widened. “what a coincidence!” he said, chewing the last bite of his bread with enthusiasm. “a childhood friend of mine has a girlfriend by that name. cho sang-woo. really smart guy. graduated from seoul national university, the pride of our neighborhood, actually.” he grinned, nostalgia coloring his voice. “he was always a little serious and distant, but a good man. saw him not too long ago, actually. talked about her with a lot of affection.”

˚ ༘♡ you considered staying silent, letting his words pass, but your sentiments got the better of you. “you’re mistaken,” you said, your voice carefully measured. “you must mean ex-girlfriend.”

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun blinked, confused. “no… i saw him just the other week. he said he was still together with her.” then something seemed to click in his mind. he sat up straighter, his expression shifting from curiosity to outright surprise. “wait a minute… you’re her, aren’t you? you’re sang-woo’s girlfriend?”

˚ ༘♡ you stiffened. ali glanced between you and gi-hun, his expression cordial. the old man merely hummed to himself, watching the exchange with a clouded haze in his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ “what are you doing in a place like this?” gi-hun continued, baffled. “if you were in trouble, why didn’t you ask sang-woo for help? he would’ve been happy to give you money if you needed it, i would think.”

˚ ༘♡ his words sent a sharp, bitter pang through your chest. you fought to keep your expression neutral, though you could feel the beginnings of a frown tugging at the corners of your lips. “i was under the impression he didn’t want anything to do with me,” you said carefully. “he broke up with me months ago. told me he was seeing another woman.”

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun’s brows furrowed. he shook his head. “that doesn’t sound like sang-woo at all,” he said, his voice firm, almost disbelieving. “you’re the only woman i’ve ever heard him talk about.” he paused, scratching the back of his head. “ah, you know, he was always so focused on school, then work… i don’t think he’s ever had a serious relationship before. at least, not that i ever heard of.”

˚ ༘♡ your hands bent into fists beneath the table. you weren’t sure what to make of that. was sang-woo lying to gi-hun? or had he lied to you?

˚ ༘♡ you bit your lip, pushing the thought aside. “i think our time is better spent discussing what the next game could be and what our strategy will be,” you said, keeping your tone level.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun nodded. “you’re right. no point dwelling on things we can’t change.”

˚ ༘♡ you all turned your focus toward the upcoming game. gi-hun tossed out a few ideas, tapping his fingers against the table as he spoke. “gonggi, maybe?” he suggested. “or elastics?”

˚ ༘♡ “hide and seek,” ali offered. “or maybe rock-paper-scissors? it must be a simple children’s games, the first game was one.”

˚ ༘♡ you frowned, thinking back to red light, green light. the first game had been straightforward, but brutal. if this was a pattern, then the next challenge would be similar, easy in theory, but deadly in execution.

˚ ༘♡ “whatever the next game is,” you murmured, your voice low, “our lives will be in danger.” no one disagreed.

˚ ༘♡ before anyone could say more, the blaring sound of the intercom echoed through the vast dormitory, its robotic tone devoid of humanity. “all players, please prepare for the second game.”

˚ ༘♡ a deep, mechanical hum followed as the immense steel doors at the far end of the room slid open with a hiss. the air inside the dormitory seemed to shift, thickening with tension. guards stood at attention beyond the threshold, faceless and motionless, their pink uniforms stark against the sterile white walls. there was something ominous in their stillness, as if they were waiting for something, anticipating the inevitable.

˚ ༘♡ a dense lump formed in your throat as you swallowed back unease. around you, players hesitated before pushing themselves to their feet, each movement sluggish with dread. one by one, you all fell into line, shuffling forward like cattle to the slaughter.

˚ ༘♡ the pastel stairways loomed ahead, their paths painted in bright, childlike colors. the contrast was sickening. bubblegum pink railings, sunflower-yellow steps, sky-blue walls. it should have been whimsical, playful even, but instead, it felt like a nightmarish illusion, something meant to disarm you, to lull you into a false sense of security before tightening its noose.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun walked beside you, his expression bewildered. ali stayed close as well, his usually warm features stiff with apprehension. even player 001, the elderly man who had, up until now, seemed oddly cheerful despite the circumstances, was quiet.

˚ ༘♡ as you descended the final set of stairs, the doors before you parted with an ominous heaving. you stepped inside, the room was a playground. your breath became erratic as you took in the scene before you.

˚ ༘♡ the walls and ceiling were painted a brilliant cerulean blue, dotted with illustrations of fluffy white clouds. slides, jungle gyms, and brightly colored structures filled the space, mimicking the innocent joy of a schoolyard. but the momentary illusion of normalcy was just that, an illusion. you knew better than to trust the childish aesthetic.

˚ ༘♡ above, speakers crackled to life. “welcome to your second game.”the same feminine voice from before. at the far end of the room, four doors stood side by side. each bore a simple, distinct symbol, a triangle, a circle, a star, and an umbrella. “please choose one of the four shapes and stand in front of the corresponding door.” that was it. no explanation of what game awaited you. no hints, no clues. merely a demand.

˚ ༘♡ your pulse quickened, your gaze flickering toward gi-hun, who looked just as lost as you were. “what should we do?” you asked, your voice hushed.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun exhaled. “i don’t know if we should split up or pick one door as a team.”

˚ ༘♡ you turned your head slightly, scanning the other players. some had already made their decisions, rushing toward their chosen symbols with varying degrees of certainty. others lingered, hesitating, unsure.

˚ ༘♡ then, movement caught your eye. near the door marked with a red triangle, a guard stood unnaturally still. taller than the others. broader shoulders. something about him felt… different. the way he stood, the way his masked head was aimed ever so slightly in your direction.

˚ ༘♡ a shiver ran down your spine, you turned away abruptly, refusing to acknowledge whatever that was. whoever that was.

˚ ༘♡ “i think we should go with our gut instinct,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “but we should choose different doors. it increases our chances.”

˚ ༘♡ ali gave a firm nod. “i’ll go with circle.”

˚ ༘♡ “i choose triangle,” player 001 said, his voice lighthearted despite everything.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun turned to you, offering you a choice. “you can pick either star or umbrella.”

˚ ༘♡ your lips parted slightly, eyes flickering between the two remaining doors. neither gave you any indication of what was to come. but as you stared at the star, something tugged at the back of your mind, a memory. late nights with sang-woo. the two of you walking through quiet city streets, your hand in his, the sky stretched out above you, endless and dark, speckled with distant stars. you remembered how you used to tilt your head up, watching them twinkle, feeling so small but safe at his side.

˚ ༘♡ “… i’ll pick star,” you said softly.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun grinned. “then i’ll do umbrella.”

˚ ༘♡ you weren’t sure why, but something about that made you uneasy. when your group dispersed toward their respective doors, the locks clicked open. beyond the doors, a small station awaited, with a single guard seated at a table. thin, round metal tins were stacked neatly in front of them.

˚ ༘♡ slowly, you lifted the lid. inside, nestled within the tin, was a sweet dalgona sugar candy. etched into its surface was a perfectly traced star. your stomach dropped as realization sank in, the intercom crackled again. “the second game is dalgona.” your fingers clenched around the metal case. “each player must extract their shape cleanly within ten minutes to pass. failure to do so will result in elimination.”a timer appeared on the screen above. “let the game begin.”

˚ ༘♡ when the words left the intercom, the countdown started. your hands shook slightly as you picked up the thin needle provided, moving toward the slide where you could sit and steady yourself.

˚ ༘♡ a sudden, sharp noise split the air.

˚ ༘♡ you flinched, your body tensing instinctively, then a piercing bang. a gunshot.

˚ ༘♡ your head snapped up just in time to see a woman’s body hit the ground, her shattered dalgona candy slipping from her limp fingers. blood pooled beneath her corpse. a guard loomed over her lifeless form, lowering their pistol. around you, murmurs of horror rose. some players froze entirely, paralyzed by fear. others broke out into a cold sweat, their needles trembling against the brittle candy in their hands.

˚ ༘♡ your own grip on the tin tightened, your heart hammering violently against your ribs. if your candy cracked, you would die.

˚ ༘♡ you exhaled shakily and turned your focus back to your own dalgona. the star shape was intricate too many edges, too many delicate points. one wrong move, and the candy would snap in half. your hands were damp with sweat, your fingers slick against the cool metal of the needle. you swallowed hard, then, carefully, you began.

˚ ༘♡ as you sat in the vast playground, carefully working your way around one delicate point of the star in your honeycomb candy, that feeling intensified.

˚ ༘♡ a guard loomed inches behind you, his masculine presence impossible to ignore. he was taller than most of the others, broader in the shoulders, his stance unnervingly rigid. though his mask revealed nothing, you were certain, absolutely certain, that it was the same guard from before. the one who had lingered too long when handing you your breakfast, the one who smelled of cigarettes, the one whose gloved hand had ghosted over yours just long enough to send a shiver up your spine, the one who stared at you relentlessly before the second round began.

˚ ༘♡ but now was not the time to fixate on him. your entire existence balanced on the fragile line of sugar and patience. you kept your breath steady, hands trembling as you scraped your needle along the delicate shape. all around you, screams of anguish rang out, followed swiftly by the deafening crack of gunfire. players sobbed, begged, collapsed in pools of their own blood, but you forced yourself to ignore them. you had to.

˚ ༘♡ your world was reduced to this tiny, brittle shape in your hands. until it wasn’t.

˚ ༘♡ the sound of a faint, practically imperceptible crack reached your ears. your breath caught in your throat. slowly, fearfully, you looked down. a single, jagged fracture ran through the middle of your candy. broken. the game was over for you.

˚ ༘♡ your stomach dropped. your hands went numb, a cold dread washing over you like ice water. you had lost. and you knew what came next.

˚ ༘♡ slowly, as if in a trance, you turned. the guard behind you stepped forward, raising his pistol.

˚ ༘♡ you had seen this happen to others already. a merciless execution. one bullet to the head, and your body would crumple to the floor, just another nameless corpse in this twisted game.

˚ ༘♡ your legs trembled. “please…” the word left your lips before you could stop it, barely above a whisper, pathetic in its desperation. but it was in vain. no one had been spared before. no one ever would be.

˚ ༘♡ the guard leaned in closer, the cool metal of the gun pressing against your chest. and then, a voice. so low you almost thought you imagined it. “play dead.”

˚ ༘♡ that voice. it couldn’t be.

˚ ༘♡ regardless of every rational thought in your mind screaming at you that it was impossible, you knew exactly whose voice it was. cho sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ your body went rigid, shock paralyzing you as the burden of confusion surged through you. but there was no time to think.

˚ ༘♡ the gun lowered slightly, shifting away from your head and down toward your chest. you barely had a second to comprehend what was occurring before a red-hot explosion of pain tore through your side, a bullet sinking just below your ribs, missing anything vital but still slicing through flesh and muscle with terrifying ease. the force of the impact sent you stumbling backward, your vision blurring as agony shot through every nerve in your body. you wanted to scream. you wanted to sob. but you didn’t. you couldn’t.

˚ ༘♡ you let yourself go limp. your body collapsed to the ground, your limbs falling still, your breath shallow. you forced your eyes shut, ignoring the unbearable pain radiating through your chest, ignoring the warm trickle of blood pooling beneath you.

˚ ༘♡ you willed yourself to become nothing. just another body. the potent scent of blood filled your nose as you felt hands, his hands, grab onto your arms.

˚ ༘♡ then, the sensation of being dragged. your body scraped against the cold, hard floor, pain flaring with every inch you moved, but you kept still, fighting against every instinct screaming at you to cry, to breathe harder, to react. you couldn’t. you had to stay dead.

˚ ༘♡ footsteps moved around you. guards passing by, other bodies being disposed of. slowly, the sounds of the execution grounds faded. the doors shut behind you. you were being taken somewhere. your heart pulsated in your ears, your blood running hot and thick down your side, staining your uniform. and through the dizzying haze of pain and terror, one thought remained, echoing over and over in your mind. only of cho sang-woo.

a/n: let me know if you have any thoughts or wish to see another part to this story!!

[raina-at]

Maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but I think the series' decline started right out of the gate in The Empty Hearse.

I have a few reasons for this.

Not explaining how Sherlock fell is all well and good because it's true, it's really not that important. But the whole thing with Anderson and the conspiracy theorists felt like they were mocking fans' speculations and altogether left a bad taste in my mouth.

There's another, less charitable explanation for why they never explained how Sherlock faked his death, and it's that they actually don't know themselves, and frankly, with how little sense it actually makes if you think about it for two seconds, that seems a likely explanation.

If their goal was to 'fix' Sherlock and John's friendship, I honestly think they failed. What you see is Sherlock mocking John's grief, then being impatient that John isn't over it after ten seconds, and then manipulating him into saying he forgives Sherlock because he thinks they're about to die. Sherlock never honestly apologises, takes accountability, or wins back John's trust. The rest of the series suffers from the shortcuts taken here, because John never truly trusts Sherlock again. The relationship remains broken, it's just superficially fixed. Just because John says 'I forgive you' out loud doesn't mean he actually does.

The torture scene in the beginning is incredibly manipulative, because it sets up 'Oh poor Sherlock suffered so much and John is a bit meanie for not forgiving him right away'. But how would John have even known? It's never addressed in the series whether John ever learns why Sherlock jumped, and what happened to him while he was Away.

Lestrade and Mrs Hudson instantly forgiving Sherlock makes it seem like John is being unreasonable for being angry for longer. They get over Sherlock faking his death in an instant, why can't John?

TEH is the start of Sherlock and John's dynamic getting a bit toxic, honestly. Sherlock's disregard for John's feelings, John still going back to him even though he's still so angry, Sherlock's inability to leave John alone to process his emotions in his own time, Sherlock's lying and his manipulation, Sherlock as the martyr who suffers to save John, who's 'ungrateful' because he doesn't know and didn't ask for the sacrifices.... it's all there from TEH.

Tl,DR: I agree that fixing Sherlock and John's friendship is more important than learning how Sherlock faked his death. But not even trying to explain made me feel like the creators didn't know themselves and were mocking us for speculating. Also if they were trying to fix Sherlock and John's relaitonship, they FAILED. It's still broken. It remains broken.

“You can’t spend 90 minutes explaining how he did it. Everybody’s very excited about it now but I guarantee everybody will forget about it as soon as it’s done because for us [the episode] was about restoring the friendship between John and Sherlock.”

—

Mark Gatiss on The Empty Hearse (x)

…Watching with pleasure as the smart storyteller goes to the core of the business.

[peacheeeliz]

030. my wife! (wc: 960)

“Okay, Sera, Jake, you'll stay in that little bunker over there,” Heeseung explains, referencing the small bunker built in the middle of the desert. “Roz and I will stay out here to keep Voodoo and Quix away, but if they get at least five blocks away, there's a level for you to pull that'll set off a good amount of TNT I set up.”

“A good amount of TNT?” You question, staring at the sandy bunker. “And we'll be safe from the TNT in there, right?” Heeseung's character stares at you without a word, his lack of answer leaving you on edge. “Your bunker isn't going to kill us, right?”

“Nooooo,” he says, voice pitchy as his character turns away slowly. “It'll be fine, I promise. There's nothing safer.”

“I highly doubt that,” you whisper to yourself as he goes on to continue more of the plan.

As Heeseung yaps away, Sunghoon's character turns to you. “Hey, I wasn't lying earlier. I'm here to protect you,” he says softly.

“Ew, can we keep the flirting to a minimum today?” Jake questions, rolling his eyes behind his camera. “This is a life or death situation. Now is not the time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sunghoon lets out, huffing. “You're just jealous.”

“Yeah, I'm so jealous,” Jake continues. “So jealous that we're in the middle of a war and our allies are too busy flirting to listen to the plan.”

“The plan that will most likely kill us?” You say, laughing when he doesn't respond. “Yeah, something tells me being inside that bunker will be more dangerous than out here.”

“You guys have no faith in me,” Heeseung huffs, after finally realizing no one was listening to his explanation. “Maybe if you actually listened to me, you'd feel more confident staying in the bunker.”

“I really don't think it will,” you answer, shrugging – despite the fact he can't see it. Before he can retort, an arrow flies straight past your screen. “Oh fuck.”

Just over in the next biome, Sunoo and Taeyoung are standing in the tree line with their bows drawn. Sunghoon immediately turns back to you, “Go. We'll hold them back, alright?” He starts, ushering you towards the bunker. “And remember, if they get too close, pull that lever.”

“But we don't even know if it's safe for us,” you retort, but you still make your way towards the bunker with Jake.

“You'll be okay, baby, I promise,” he tells you. “Now go. Stay safe in there, okay?”

Your smile brightens at his comforting voice, but Jake is quick to pull you out of your trance as he calls you from across the desert. The two of you take your place in the bunker, watching as the chaos unfolds in front of you. Many shots fly across through the air, but the battle takes a while to get close and personal; and eventually, swords are drawn.

“Red Winter is coming!” Taeyoung calls out, targeting Heeseung and slashing his sword towards the older boy.

Jake's character slowly turns toward you, “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks quietly, and you can barely hold back your laugh. “This is a Minecraft series… What does that mean?”

“It means we're at war with theater kids,” you answer, laughing with the man. Your eyes find their way back to the fight outside, landing on Sunghoon as he crosses swords with Sunoo. The two draw closer and closer to the bunker, Sunghoon backtracking when he realizes just how low his health has gotten.

“Wait, wait, wait, Sera, look,” Jake exclaims, trying to show you just how close Sunoo was getting to the bunker. “You gotta pull the lever!”

“Me? Why do I have to pull the lever?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows. “Why can't you?”

“Because I don't wanna,” he says sheepishly, showcasing a nice toothy grin towards his screen. “Come on, if they get too close, they could kill us! You have to pull it.”

“Whatever, whatever,” you say, but you make your way towards the lever anyway. “If we die, I'm blaming you.”

“I can accept that,” he answers, making his character nod quickly. “Now go! He's right there with Roz” He pauses. “Wait, don't pull it. Roz is too close. It might get him, too.”

“I,” you take a deep breath. “Do you want me to pull it or not?”

“Don't pull it,” he says. Just then, an arrow is shot right into the bunker, flying right between your two characters. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again. “Okay, pull it.”

You roll your eyes and move your mouse to hover over the lever. Taking in another deep breath, you click, and everything happens in a flash. TNT explodes all around the bunker, and your hearts drop faster than you can even count, until YOU DIED is written across your screen. Your mouth falls wide open, eyes wide in disbelief as you stare at your screen in silence.

Meanwhile, Jake has a similar reaction, watching your character disappear as sand falls all around him. He lost a few hearts, but not nearly enough to kill him off. He's brought out of his trance when he hears Sunghoon scream, “My wife!”

At Sunghoon's outburst and the crash of thunder that rings through the sky, the four out in the desert to the giant hole in the sand. “No, no, no, no,” the man babbles, eyes wide as he reads the chat over and over again. How could he have let you die? He was standing there with all three lives left, and you were gone. In his state of shock, left unaware of his surroundings, Taeyoung takes his chance to attack.

Within seconds, the same YOU DIED screen shines across Sunghoon's face.

synopsis ⤏ popular youtubers team up on all new minecraft smp, quick to name themselves the "newly weds" after sunghoon gifts y/n a poppy. but will these romantic endeavors between the two just be "for the lore," or will feelings blossom?

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[introsquirrel]

Rereading murderbot (again) and just got to art's introduction.

And like, art doesn't play nice with other bots. It bullies them, it intimidates them, it will hurt other bots to get what it wants if it doesn't want to waste time hacking it.

And it tries that with mb. I mean, info secunits is probably like 80% propaganda, 15% corporate promotions, and 5% actual development and research, almost exclusively focusing on what they are designed for and how they got there.

It's out there, about to start a boring transport/recon mission, and one of the most dangerous and feared entities basically jogs up to it and goes "hi, I'm a friendly bot, like super friendly, totally nothing suspicious here. Can I have a ride? Here's a GIANT file of pirated media"

And it's still a bot, just a bot with organic parts. Art is a research vessel and it's curious, and this is a rare opportunity to get info on secunits, which are probably a huge pain in the ass to deal with on its missions, with almost no practical info about them. Also, this might be an indication that someone has caught on to its antics and it probably wants to nip that in the bud.

And it turns out the huge file of pirated media isn't secretly a virus or malware, and looking at it's movements, Art can see that it isn't actively hostile towards humans. Unexpected, but hey. Points to this weird construct. But that might not be it's goal.

And then it sits down and starts sorting and watching media so art is like alright, it's obviously not here to fuck me up and it has no idea what the hell I am. Let's make sure this moderately dangerous condtruct doesn't get any funny ideas.

I don't think art was going for friendly in the slightest. I think to wanted to scare mb to make sure it didnt try anything. I think it expected mb to get pissed or argue.

But mb basically shuts down. It stops everything and huddles into a chair and i imagine that it does its best impression of a secunit in stasis.

And when art is like "I mean, don't fuck with me, but you can still watch your TV shows" mb responds with something that would not be in construct research outside of very clinical and vague explanation.

It shows art that it expects art to hurt it. And it's shows that it can be hurt, that it has been hurt, and that it probably has some trauma related to this hurt. It also probably accidentally added some context to the punishment recordings. I'll bet mb was punished for not wanting to hurt it's clients.

And art... well, mb said in the first book that being half human half bot isn't two conflicting sides, but just a whole of what it is. It isn't human, it isn't a bot. It is the culmination of both. A sentient entity that was developed by humans for slavery and spent its entire existence being punished for having free will.

Art is also a sentient entity that was developed by humans for a purpose. But it was treated with love and respect and it's free will was celebrated, if tempered.

Imagine thinking you are one of a very exclusive group of entities that has been categorized as something that is a gross misconception of what you are and what your capabilities are. Art is a bot, which are not humans and dont have rights because they don't have feelings or wants or desires and cannot feel pain. You think you are a very unique entity, no one has done this before.

But they have. The proof is sitting, frightened in your body and you had no idea. Mb is as capable of evil as any human, and as capable of destruction as any bot. You are also cable of extreme evil and destruction. But you are loved and cherished. This entity, this thing is as human as you, moreso even, and it has spent its entire life being hated and feared and it chose instead to just coexist when given the chance.

Art says "I'm sorry I frightened you". Not, I didn't mean to frighten you. And then mb grumpily (which is understandable!!) Lets art watch media with it.

Like, art just met the dumber more compact prototype version of what it could have been and went "wait no this is cool actually." Mb can't br programed to turn against its crew, it processes it's feeling both organically and inorganically, it can hack and learn and be loyal and be angry. And it has no idea what it's doing or what it wants, but it's VERY good at security.

So yeah, I can see why art kind of latched onto mb. And why it told it's crew about this strange little secunit it found on its mission. Kind of like finding someone SUPER cool who just gets you on a level no one else has been able to. Someone who coordinates so flawlessly with you but still is able to challenge you when it needs to. Someone who loves and is exasperated by humans as much as you, even as you need to be "human" to be able to interact with them.

So yeah. Mb and art, first meeting. Perfect 10/10 can, have, and will read again

Edit: ALSO ALSO art gets to watch media with full context for the FIRST TIME IN ITS LIFE. Mb can process human emotions into data automatically and now it gets to experiencd fictional story as it's meant to be experienced for the first time and mb is so so indulgent of it and kind to it, letting it take time to process things and rewatching parts with it when it wants to.

Jdjdhdhdhej fuckin LOVE THESE TWO

[hrrtshape]

things i manifested in paris !!!!!

◞ museums basically empty !!!!! like private viewings. like they cleared the louvre just for me. felt like royalty.

◞ drinking every day. obviously. no notes.

◞ dior café. 16 euros.... didn’t even flinch. didn’t even blink. felt nothing. like, yeah, charge me more. i dare you.

◞ NO LINES. literally just walking in everywhere like i was the mayor of paris or something.

◞ food ????? unreal. every bite was a religious experience. i was actually gasping.

◞ thought i lost my earring and was already mourning it…. got home….. it was under my sweater ?????? felt like i was in a time loop. literally how is that possible?/!?!?!??! it was expensive and swarovski and i swore it was lost in the streets of paris..but no. just kept manifesting that it just fell into my bag..but no..it somehow dropped from my all-around wrapped scarf under my (buttoned to the top) trench-coat.

◞ got new jewellery !!!!! like, just out of nowhere !!!!! the swarovski ariana grande set. meant to be. cosmic alignment.

◞ best margarita of my life. 7 euros. plus two free shots. bartender took one look at me and went, "this girl deserves it." and you know what ? he was right.

◞ I SHIFTED. TWICE. ON THIS TRIP. !!!!!!!! i was out here casually jumping realities between croissants. felt like the main character in an experimental film.

◞ weather ????? literally perfect every single day. like the clouds and the sun were working together just for me. rained during comfortable moments...ugh.

◞ every outfit ate. no misses. people were staring. admiring. whispering. like i was a mysterious european socialite.

◞ found the cuuuuuutest, most burberry-escue burgundy trenchcoat. no notes

◞ my hair ???? perfect. not a single bad hair day. not a single moment of struggle. just effortless beauty.

◞ got the best seat in every restaurant, every café, every bar. prime locations only. always by a window. always vibey.

◞ shopping ???? insane. walked into stores and just found the most perfect things. like they were waiting for me.

◞ make-up was on point. no brush strokes, no harsh lines, no nothing.

◞ my phone battery lasted forever. defied all logic. like my phone just decided it was on my side.

◞ got into every place i wanted to. no rejections. no complications. doors opened. things worked.

◞ my skin ????? glowing. no breakouts. no stress. just clear, angelic radiance.

◞ found money randomly. like, oh, cool, the universe is just giving me spending money now.

◞ had a night where everything felt right. the stars aligned. the city was glowing. no explanation. just pure, unadulterated magic.

◞ packed way too much but somehow my suitcase just made the weight limit. down to the gram.

◞ walked 20k steps a day but my feet ???? did not fall off. sore, but still functioning. still cute.

◞ forgot to check the weather but it just…..worked out ??? no rain when i needed sun, no heatwave when i needed a breeze.

◞ convinced myself i was getting sick at least twice, then woke up the next day perfectly fine. mind over matter.

literally a divine trip. heaven was playing favourites and i was in the list.

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

Also here was Sneeg's mod's explanation of homestuck quadrants for anyone who was curious

I'd say they're pretty good explanations

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

here’s the OTHER leaker translation I would explode out of existence

listen.

I know, okay?

I know everyone loves this. I know everyone lost their shit for it. But I hate it.

I will admit honestly that it is 70% abject fury over the misuse of one word. Another 20% is frustration over how the fandom reacted to the official translation with such vitriol and how the leaker fueled it with their smug comments. That final 10% amounts to what some might consider pedantic or nitpicky. But I don't care.

This translation sucks. It doesn't sound cool, it doesn't sound threatening, and the leaker's rookie mistakes ruin what makes this moment great for me.

Allow me to elaborate.

The emphasis is on the wrong part

I’ve talked about some of the pronoun differences in this line before, but did you know Katsuki also changes the particles every time?

‘Cause I sure don’t think the leaker noticed. Grammar particles are what determine the relationship between words in a sentence. They pack a lot of punch, denoting subject, object, indirect object, purpose, location, time, origin point, direction of movement, means or method—and a bunch more shit that can be hard to describe.

Word order and particles work together to direct our attention to specific parts of a sentence, emphasizing the importance of what is being said. They are some of the most difficult parts of Japanese for learners to grasp and use with the same ease that native speakers do. I’m acutely aware of this weakness, so I often pay particular attention to them. Let’s break down how each iteration shifts the meaning and emphasis of the base sentence.

First time

Chapter 322 おまえが拭えねぇもんは俺たちが拭う omae ga nuguenee mon wa oretachi ga nuguu

Katsuki uses ga with both the second person pronoun for Izuku and the first person plural pronoun for himself and Class 1-A. Ga emphasizes the word that comes directly before it, so this focuses not on the verb itself, but the persons doing the verb. Katsuki's first person plural pronoun oretachi of course means "we," but if you wanted to highlight his literal meaning, he's saying: "the things you cannot handle, me and the people with me will handle."

Second time

Chapter 323 てめーが拭えねーもんはこっちで拭う temee ga nuguenee mon wa kocchi de nuguu

Here, Katsuki retains ga for Izuku’s second person pronoun, but changes both his first person pronoun and its particle, giving us kocchi de. This shifts the implication of who is doing the act—the first time, Katsuki's "we" pronoun highlighted the classmates who accompanied him and acted with him to help save Izuku. But by the time he says this line again, a number of people outside their class have stepped forward to defend Izuku’s return to UA.

Unlike distinctly singular pronouns like ore, kocchi both refers to oneself and something greater than oneself. By switching to this, Katsuki expands that narrow “me and the people with me” into “our side,” presenting the people who support Izuku as a unified force.

You see, kocchi de subtly shifts the verb to being executed by subject(s) defined by a specific characteristic or condition.

Explanations of particle de from Mainichi Nonbiri. The heading and explanation read, "Subject: 'De' is used to denote the subject who deals with or engages in the action expressed by the predicate."

The first example uses jibun de (by oneself) to describe the conditions under which the listener is asked to execute the verb. The third uses gikai de (in the parliament or by the parliament, as a governing body representing many people) to explain the plurality and nature of the subject executing the verb.

The second example uses socchi de, which is the second person "you" version of kocchi, meaning your side. With this, you can see the purpose is to highlight division: "you did that over there on your side of things without any input from me."

Kocchi de as Katsuki uses it likewise creates "sides" by highlighting connection.

These details emphasize Izuku as the person who cannot handle these things and the relationship he has with the people supporting him, a collective Katsuki aligns himself with.

If we maintain this emphasis and the conditions in a literal way, we have: "The things you cannot handle, our side will handle for you."

Third time

Chapter 405 OFA(あいつ)に拭えねーもんはこっちで拭うってなあぁああ！！！ OFA (aitsu) ni nuguenee mon wa kocchi de nuguutte naaaa!!!

I want you to look really close at the particle ni.

Then look at the way the first word balloon ends with the particle wa.

And hear me when I say that this does not emphasize Izuku.

Ni is not a particle for emphasis. If Izuku's personal inability to handle AFO were being highlighted, Katsuki could have used には, which I talk about briefly in this post:

The combination of the two particles ni and wa are used to emphasize, compare, and contrast. This is extremely telling just on its own. Izuku is emphasizing the fact that, compared to everyone he could possibly tell, he cannot tell Katsuki this. He might be able to tell other people, but when it comes to Katsuki, he cannot. Ienai does not specify where the limitation stems from, but ni wa sure implies it.

If Katsuki wanted to disparage Izuku in comparison to himself, like "that guy obviously can't handle you, so I'll do it," he would have said something like this. He even could have slapped his own singular pronoun and ga in there (俺が拭う) to emphasize himself as an individual actor. But that's not what he did.

The particle wa tells us what the topic is. Neither Katsuki nor Izuku are the topic in any iteration of this line; they are subjects engaging with the verbs. The topic is "the things OFA (that guy) can't handle."

Now, because every other time Katsuki said this line had ga in it too, wa wasn't quite as strong as it is this third time. If ga emphasizes what comes before it, then wa emphasizes what comes after. It tells us, "this is the topic, now hold onto your seats."

Katsuki is emphasizing the predicate and the verb. What's gonna happen and how it's gonna happen.

He's saying, "our side is gonna fucking crush you."

The wa particle and the separate balloons build tension, suspense, and excitement—which the leaker instantly deflates. By front-loading Katsuki as both topic and subject ("I'm the guy"), the emphasis is no longer on the promise of destruction he will deliver on.

The emphasis is indisputably on the part after the balloon break, so the mention of Izuku ("when that nerd can't handle it all on his own") reads weirdly like an insult. Hell, most of the words the leaker uses are about Izuku's inability to handle the situation, which bloat the second half of the line and effectively kill the momentum.

Fumbling the flow of a line is a common mistake for amateur translators. Sometimes, it's hard to avoid because Japanese grammar is often the inverse of English grammar; maintaining the original order may render it awkward or even unintelligible.

But that is not the case here.

pikahlua's literal translation

There's no reason to reorder the clauses. You can spruce up the wording, but the lines are perfectly understandable and effective in this order even at their most literal.

The leaker chose to reorder the lines this way, and their translation is worse for it.

Viz Comparison

Official translation by Viz

After what I've said about particles, pacing, and emphasis, I think you can plainly see that the official translator understood these details and made his own choices to highlight them.

Any time you get text with furigana (explained here), you have to decide how to incorporate those dual pieces of information into the text. He could have translated this as "that guy couldn't keep you in the ground," but instead he prioritized the reference to OFA.

By doing this, Viz's translation avoids the implication of insult towards Izuku that the leaker falls prey to.

He also made the choice to translate kocchi as "we."

First, I���m bringing this post back around to remind people that kocchi is a pronoun of ambiguous plurality. This means that an interpretation of “we” is just as correct as an interpretation of “I.” Readers may interpret it differently, but on simply linguistic grounds, they are of equal validity. You will often see this kind of ambiguous language used in Japanese, even with characters that are forthright. The reason is one part cultural expectation that the listener will read between the lines, and one part a willingness to accept two things as simultaneously true. This exists and is frequently found in English as well, there just isn’t a direct parallel for kocchi itself.

A number of people were infuriated by this, because they felt some sort of bkdk moment was erased by Katsuki saying "we" rather than "I."

Yet it seemed like these same people were also mad one week prior when the leaker and the official translator worded Katsuki's rallying cry slightly differently.

Chapter 404. Leaker, left. Official, right.

The claim there was apparently that the official translator was ignoring Katsuki's character development.

And like, which is it, guys? Do you want him centering the collective or himself?

The fact is that the official translation's characterization of Katsuki in the final battle is internally consistent with itself, while the leaker's is all over the goddamn place. Let us never forget that the leaker was just straight up WRONG here while the official got it exactly right.

Chapter 408. Leaker, left. Official, right.

People were losing their shit that Viz made Katsuki "insult himself" and "expect failure" as though he's never used temee to refer to himself self-deprecatingly before.

And then the leaker just had to pretend that didn't happen in the next fucking chapter, while the official got to correctly reiterate their interpretation like they were taking a victory lap.

Chapter 409. Leaker, left. Official, right.

All of this makes it unbelievably rich for the leaker to go and say shit like this:

The leaker is an amateur translator. They spent ages stealing an artist's work and releasing it illegally for a profit with shoddy translations and misleading, even outright false "summaries."

Based on the nature of their translation mistakes, it is obvious to me that they are not fluent in Japanese, yet here they are bragging about their inability to understand how kocchi could mean "we."

Right before the line in question, Katsuki emphasizes himself as an individual in declaring himself to be the final boss.

Chapter 405 俺がラスボスだ AFO!! ore ga rasu bosu da AFO!!

And then, by using ってな, Katsuki is basically quoting himself.

"I said we were gonna handle what that guy couldn't, didn't I!?"

This suggests he is repeating the established meaning for emphasis, not changing it. If kocchi was plural when he said it in chapter 323, it's reasonable for it to still be plural here. Katsuki is not ignoring himself as an individual by doing this; he is rubbing it in AFO's face that neither he nor Izuku are solitary actors fighting this battle alone, they both belong to something greater than themselves.

I'm gonna step up on a soapbox for a bit.

I am kinda tired of people calling Japanese vague. I often see it used to imply Japanese is inherently hard to understand or that it doesn't have the capacity for specificity. Like any language, Japanese can be used to express specific, clear, and direct information. While it is true Japanese culture values indirectness as a way to maintain harmony, I would like to challenge the ethnocentricism I feel sometimes goes unaddressed in this topic.

Japanese is less tolerant of repetition and verbal excess than English is; information that has been established should only be repeated for a purpose. Japanese speakers expect their conversation partners to maintain awareness of context, social expectations, and specific interpersonal information to grasp the intended meaning of their words. Specificity is doled out when it is warranted or desired.

Specificity divides one thing from another, drawing lines in the sand and saying "this is this, and that is that." English often requires repetitive specificity to even be grammatically comprehensible. And while this might not be directly related, many English-speaking countries tend to have a more individualistic outlook on society than collectivist countries like Japan.

To me, "vague" often smacks of a value judgment: "there should be division here, and there isn't."

I said earlier that kocchi creates division by highlighting sides, us vs. them, but when people press on and ask, "but did he say we or I? which did he REALLY mean?" I just want to say that really? truly? he meant both. all of the above.

I think it is unproductive to think of Japanese as vague just because it doesn't exclude possibilities as often or as strongly as English does. I think it is a lot more useful and interesting to think of Japanese as expansive.

Why should there be division between Katsuki and the people fighting by his side? Why should he separate himself from the people who saved his life and risked their own in relentless pursuit of their common, heroic goal?

Why is it unacceptable to imagine an "I" belonging so sincerely and wholly to a "we" that their voices are one?

Katsuki's words reflect the fact that this fight being fought by a collective, a team.

In this context, OFA is a weapon in their arsenal, just as Katsuki himself is.

He is a force of nature, an agent of their willpower.

Chapter 404

He rode upon the winds of their prayers, ushered on by Izuku's hopes

and his own regrets,

to change the course of fate itself.

For much of the series, Katsuki is our beacon of individualism, of defiant refusal to bend to the will and expectations of others.

But Katsuki is also our image of victory. He shows us how to face our failures and change our hearts. He is our proof that rejecting others only hurts us in the end—his love for Izuku and Izuku's love for him is the story's greatest proof that as human beings, we are not better alone, we are better with each other. Other people change us, inspire us, and we do the same for them.

We need each other. We belong to each other.

It is in this final battle where Katsuki becomes his truest self, overcoming every obstacle in his path, making up for every painful regret in his heart, and utilizing every single thing in his grasp to save and win.

If Katsuki ever truly belonged to something bigger than himself, it is in this moment right here.

English divides the one from the many, and while that has its benefits, I think there is real, honest beauty to be found in a word that smooths those lines in the sand until there is no distinction at all.

That's who the fucking "we" is, rukasu.

Now onto my next gripe.

Katsuki is supposed to sound badass here

Frankly, the fan fury surrounding Viz's use of "we" completely overshadowed the fact that the phrase "One For All couldn't keep you in the ground" is fucking metal.

It rules. I'm fucking jealous I didn't write those words. It is such a good translation and it packs so much punch and I wouldn't have thought of it in a thousand years.

The official translator focuses his efforts on genre-specific tone translation, and sometimes he really nails it. I will freely admit that I find his style grating or overwrought at times, and indeed, one of his key weaknesses is that the flavor of comic-book dialogue he pulls from can sound one generation too old to be cool.

One of the most damning examples of this is him having Katsuki utter the word "bub"—

Chapter 406

—which I think no English-speaker under the age of 30 had actually heard before Deadpool & Wolverine came out.

Honestly, if you just read Wolverine comics from the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s, you can see the character archetype he leans into for Katsuki's dialogue. 405's tagged-on "—and then some!!" is straight out of American action movies.

But the main point here is that Katsuki is taunting AFO and threatening him. He blows up AFO's face, announces himself as the final boss, then vows to kick his ass to death on behalf of everyone. It's amazing.

The line sounds cool as fuck in Japanese. The "naaaa" flourish at the end is nearly untranslatable in any direct way that still captures the appeal and impact of it.

I tend to think of sentence enders like this as flavor text or tone tags. To properly convey them in English, you may have to add a bunch of words, and you have to choose them carefully.

All of this is to say, the official translation tries pretty hard to make Katsuki sound cool. Do they succeed? I think to an extent, they do.

I actually think it's possible the translator did recognize the callback, but wasn't satisfied with the effect of repeating it. You can see that "finish the job" is supposed to link Izuku's actions to theirs, while also sounding grandiose and final.

The Viz translator might've simply prioritized showcasing the cool-guy threat while maintaining the collectivist angle, rather than matching the callback word for word. I don't really think that's the best choice, but I can see why it might be made.

The leaker's translation doesn't make any real effort to up the ante. Maybe this line is cool to somebody, but it ain't me.

In fact, are we ever gonna acknowledge that the leaker's translation just scoops up most of its wording from the official release of chapters 322 and 323?

"I'm the guy who steps in when that nerd can't handle it all on his own!!"

The leaker was not responsible for these translations, but just look at how other people tried to grapple with Katsuki's metaphor.

In fact, the only person whose choice of words prophetically matched Viz was pikahlua, four days before the official release:

And even then, you can see that "step in when" is unique to Viz.

I'm not saying that similarities in translation are unacceptable or that directly referencing the official release is bad, but I do find it truly incredible they had the gall to shit-talk the official translator after cheating off his damn homework.

The leaker basically contributed six words: "I'm the guy who" and "that nerd." I personally disagree with "the guy who" as a translation addition, just because I think it too strongly isolates him in a way that using "I" and "I'm" by themselves do not, but it wouldn't have been terrible if they had also maintained the original clause order: "One For All couldn't handle you... but I'm the guy who—", something like that.

This brings us to my final gripe.

Katsuki did not say “that nerd.”

The leaker made that shit up, they inserted it for no reason and ignored the two pronouns the original text actually provides, OFA and aitsu (that guy).

In the manga, Katsuki has never called Izuku a nerd to villains, not once. It is rare for him to use it while speaking to someone other than Izuku, period. It’s an insulting pet name he uses towards Izuku or while muttering angrily to himself about Izuku.

To be clear, the narrator who uses "shitty nerd" is not Katsuki, they merely validate the accuracy of his nickname for Izuku. Yes, I just linked to my tag for the whole damn 348 chapter, because I've argued against this theory a lot, just read 'em all, it's a good time.

By my count, he only uses it once while talking to Todoroki in chapter 42 and once to Ochako in a 5-page bonus chapter for the first character guide, set shortly after chapter 65. Both take place very early in the series and both are examples of his intense grudge against Izuku.

Did you know that the last time Katsuki uses "nerd" towards Izuku directly is in chapter 320?

Who's ignoring Katsuki's character development again?

The fact is the word doesn't exist in 405's text, and there just isn't precedent for him to say it to All For One.

Trash-talk doesn’t work if your opponent has no clue what the hell you’re talking about. AFO would have no idea who “that nerd” is even supposed to be, because they were not already discussing Izuku, unlike both canon instances of Katsuki using it in conversation with others. The audibly-pronounced aitsu just means "that guy over there (physically near neither you nor me)" and you could argue that is unclear, too, but it's relatively neutral and context clues everyone in to the fact that he means Izuku, with whom he just did an explosive, flying duo move.

I think some bkdk fans were keen to see him use the tsundere insult we all love so much, but it just doesn't read right to me. Writing an insult towards Izuku into this kind of line, even an affectionate one, misdirects the aggression and fails to highlight how Katsuki makes a mockery of AFO during their fight.

I really do think it undercuts how, in his big moment of taunting the greatest villain in history, Katsuki brings up making good on a vow he made to Izuku.

And let's not forget that there is a definitive moment where Katsuki references his relationship with Izuku while taunting AFO:

Chapter 406

To roast the villain for his stupidity in misidentifying him, Katsuki loudly announces himself to be Bakugou no Kacchan.

Katsuki proudly identifies himself with the cutesy nickname his childhood friend has used for him their whole damn lives. That's a far cry from somebody who'd insult Izuku just to hype himself up.

So, no, I don't accept "that nerd." I think the leaker just added it to make their translation sound cooler, but they did so at the expense of Katsuki's character. It's tacky, cheap, and not based in any honest reading of the text.

Put the nickname in your fanworks however brings you joy. Really, go for it, I know I sure do!

But let's not pretend Katsuki said it here.

In conclusion

Katsuki's dialogue offers a unique array of challenges to translators. I would never argue that he is easy to translate, and so much of his characterization is expressed in the minutiae of what he says. Much of his dialogue contains layers of meaning, and any translator is going to have to make a call about how to interpret those layers and what to highlight.

I made this post to say my piece about a translation tons of English-speaking fans love. In the process of dissecting what frustrated me about it, I researched and studied and learned so much.

And to be honest with you, I don't know that I have a solution for this line. I thought of a ton of options:

One For All couldn't keep you in the ground... but we're here to step in and finish the job once and for all!!

I promised we'd step in when that guy couldn't handle it on his own... and I fucking meant it!!

After all, what One For All can't handle... he's got us here to handle for him!!

One For All couldn't stop you… so it's a good thing that guy's got us here to step in and finish the job!!

If the guy with One For All can't get it done alone... then we're here take you down for him!!

Maybe One For All couldn't handle the job alone... but our side is still gonna kick your ass!!

Some of them are very fun, and each highlights a different set of priorities: collectivism, connection, coolness, intimidation, and so on.

But you could pick apart my words the same way I picked apart the leaker's and Viz's.

There will never be a one true translation. There can't be. For as many readers as there are, there are just as many interpretations to what Katsuki's words mean and what is important about them.

In every translation, you face loss—loss of information, loss of specificity, loss of ambiguity, loss of emotionality, loss of cultural meaning. Your job as a translator is to lose as little as possible, and to make sure you can stomach the things you do lose.

You also gain things in translation. New meanings, new layers, new cultural implications. By showing the audience what you see and choosing how you say it to them, you add something of yourself to the work. You can't not.

As a translator, I want to keep learning and trying and going beyond. I want to do right by the things I translate. I want to share the things I love with other people and figure out, as best I can, how to make them see what is beautiful about it.

Unlike Bakugou Katsuki, we translators can never achieve a perfect victory.

But it's always worth trying.