#there's not much you can do about it y'know

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Turns out men don't like it when left-wing men are sexist jerks to them either.

In fact, they arguably get more hate than women, individually, because they're seen as traitors.

>Do you guys spend this much time asking men to stop commenting "your body my choice" under women's tiktok videos,

I don't use Tiktok. I don't even watch videos from tiktok in incognito. I don't watch Tiktoks on Youtube, if I can avoid them. That's how much I hate it.

>or to stop raping us on college campuses,

Turns out the vast majority of people, men and women, are already against male on female rape, anywhere in any developed country on Earth.

Which is why it's, y'know, illegal.

>r to stop calling us "cum dumpsters" when we're pregnant in public,

I've never heard of anyone doing that. I'll say it's wrong.

I'll also say that going from actual rape to just random insults (which the women might not even hear) is, uh, a bit of a falloff.

Almost like you're trying to sneak it in under cover of your "stronger" examples.

>or to stop watching pornograhy in which women are beaten or slapped or whipped or crying,

Also, plenty of women also like porn in which women are hurt. Lots of women write it. Sometimes with no men involved whatsoever.

And you know what's also popular? Porn with women hurting and humiliating men.

>or or or….

Yes, we're all very impressed by your ability to spout canned arguments meant to make women look like bigger victims and deny men can even be victims, instead of actually caring about the issue this post is about.

And before you ask "why don't you say this to her directly?", she blocked me so she could get the last word in an argument.

Note that I didn't say she had any actual counterpoint. Just good ol' appeal to ridicule.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[sturnlsstuff]

PANCAKES | chris sturniolo

in which you made your boyfriend pancakes, later finding out he doesn't like them.

fluff, no warnings, based on this request !!

you've never felt more stupid in your life than when you found out from the new triplets' Q&A video, that Chris doesn't like pancakes. which was ridiculous, you made him chocolate chip pancakes three weeks ago while visiting him and he didn't say a word.

you just found out about it while watching their video on your flight to los angeles for your second visit. wondering how you didn't notice it, but how were you supposed to, when he ate the pancakes with a smile on his face and gave you a kiss on the forehead, telling you how yummy it was? but you still felt bad, you've been in a long distance relationship with chris for almost two months now, thinking that you already knew him better than that, but clearly not.

having spent the entire day at the triplets' place with chris, it was finally evening and you both got hungry. you were now in the kitchen wondering what you wanted to eat, when you decided to see if he would lie to you again.

"i can make the chocolate chip pancakes if you want... y'know the ones i made the last time i visited you," you say, leaning against the counter and watching him closely, seeing how he pauses for a second, but then turns to you with a smile on his face. now you knew it was a fake smile.

"sounds so good, ma, but maybe we could eat some pizza?" he swallows, trying to sound casual and turns back to you, clearly avoiding your gaze and he grabs a can of pepsi from the fridge. "s'late anyway, maybe you could do the pancakes tomorrow morning, hm?"

narrowing your eyes, this time you can clearly see that he doesn't like these fucking pancakes. makes you wonder how you could be so stupid, not to notice what your own boyfriend likes or dislikes.

"i kinda feel like eating pancakes though," you say only to see if he's gonna finally say the truth or not. chris looks back at you, the wheels in his head racing, trying to think of any reason not to make these pancakes. he felt bad really, but he just loved you so much, he was ready to eat something he doesn't like again so as not to make you upset.

"a'ight, fine." he nods, taking a sip of his soda before putting it down and already starting to look for ingredients. "whatever y'want, baby."

the little smile he gave you, the way he was ready to actually do it, makes your heart race. it was a little thing, but the fact he'd actually force himself to eat something he dislikes and not say a thing, was making you feel bad for him and at the same time love him even more.

"chris." you say bluntly, walking closer and taking the bowl from his hands onto the counter, causing his attention come back to you. "why are you doing this?"

"what?" a frown appears between his eyebrows as he looks down at you, his blue eyes intense, "'cause we're hungry? and you wan' pancakes—"

"no, not that." you sigh and confront him, "i mean, you don't even like pancakes, so why do you wanna make them with me anyway?"

"huh?" he immediately starts denying it, "that's not... what are ya talkin' about--?"

"i watched the new video." you confess, seeing how his expressions changes from confusion to understanding and then guilt. seeing him want to interrupt, you shake your head and continue, "why didn't you tell me that you don't like pancakes? i made them for you and you just ate them, not saying a simple word—"

"it's not..."

"...you could just tell me, i would make something else! it was enough to say that you're not a big fan of them and it's fine, i would immediately..." chris tries to cut off your yap, but you just keep going, "... and then i'm looking on tiktok, realizing even your own fans know, but not me when i'm supposed to be your girlfriend, which means i don't know you at all, which means i'm a terrible girlfriend and i feel stupid and i'm awful and—"

the feeling of his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips pressing against yours, shut you up. you hum in response as he kisses you, your hands fall to either side of your body. a few seconds later he pulls away slightly, looking into your eyes and raising his eyebrows, "you done?"

you just pout, still feeling awful, while chris continues cupping your cheeks. "call y'self a bad girlfriend again and i'll fight you," he says sarcastically, but then adds more seriously, "s'just pancakes. and yours were really fuckin' delish, so stop callin' y'self awful."

"but you don't like pancakes..."

"yeah, i don't, but..."

"so why didn't you just tell me?!"

chris sighs, now feeling guilty that you found out the way you did, causing you to feel bad of yourself. "what, was i supposed to break your heart and not eat the food y'made f'me, when you were so excited?"

"chris, i'm a big girl, i would survive it." you roll your eyes, "i wouldn't wanna force you to eat something you don't like. especially lying to me that it was good—"

"hey." he cuts you off, "relax. i didn't lie, it was in fact really yummy."

giving him a glare, you mutter, "now you're just saying that to make me feel better..."

"no." he shakes his head, "m'sayin' that 'cause it's true. i don't like pancakes, but you did a great job. end of story."

he steps back, while you keep pouting. you wanted to believe him, but he probably wouldn't even tell you if the pancakes were awful, so as not to upset you.

chris sees that you're still unsure, so he speaks up again, before taking a sip of his pepsi, "listen, baby, i'd tell ya, yeah? at some point... but that was your first visit here, you took time to make me breakfast 'n you were so happy. that's why i couldn't spit it out." he glares at you, "but i mean it when i say it was good. if i had to eat it again, i'd chose you to make 'em."

your face finally lights up with a little smile, which causes chris to grin as well, "there she is..."

"next time i wanna know from you if you don't like something. not from the internet. got it?" trying to look scary, you point your finger at him, but it only causes chris to chuckle.

"yes, ma'am."

"now gimme some eggs, i'll make waffles..." then you pause, giving him a suspicious stare, "you do like waffles?"

"yes. oh god, yes i do." his eyes sparkle when he opens the fridge and starts giving you the ingredients you need. "if y'make me some waffles, i'll actually take you out on a date tomorrow."

"perfect."

@certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess

[arminsumi]

YEAH, PSYCHO BOYS DO IT BETTER

Your co-worker, Aki, jus' wants to bump off your lousy boyfriend so he can show you that heaven exists on his tongue... 'n maybe he also wants to dumbify you on his cock until you tell him you love him.

ㅤ★ requested by anonymous

ㅤ★ warnings; strictly no under 18s/MDNI, infidelity, Aki is *ahem* unwell/kinda yandere, possessiveness, alcohol/drunk fling, drunk s*x, oral (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x/cr**mpie, sum breeding kink, sum dumbification

It's a front — it always has been. Aki's not normal about you.

Underlining his every move, every word, every thought, is this sensual super psycho scorpionic energy.

He singes you with his hot looks some days in the office. Goes over to your cubicle and lingers for too long, biting his thumb and coolly flirting with you — "You look good today." leads to "Are you free later? No, no just as friends..." leads to shots after work with your co-worker Aki...

No, Aki's not normal about you at all; he follows every syllable you speak, follows your shadow like a dog, thinks about bludgeoning your boyfriend in his bed, and eats your attention like he's been starved of it for his whole life.

It's just a pity that you had a man. And a lousy one at that. One who can't even kiss you right, as a drunk Aki grumbles to you after a quick four shots of liquor.

"Your boyfriend can hardly kiss you right, can he even fuck you right?" he whines. It's shocking that these kinds of words are coming from a voice so feathery and quiet.

Your eyes widen. Your heart beats quicker. You tense your thighs together. You stutter.

"Aki... I think you've had too much to drink. Let's get you home, hm?"

He sighs.

You just don't understand him — that's what he's thinking while you help him walk home, your tiny frame tucked under his 6'2 stature.

That small rush of insanity comes over him, and for a split second he doesn't care that you have a boyfriend.

He just puts his drunk, smoky mouth on you and kisses you hard. You can not only taste the cigarettes and alcohol, but all the little psycho feelings on his lips.

Humming into the kiss, Aki feels dizzy. He's melting. Knees buckling. His hands come to cup your cheeks. He turns his face this way and kisses you like that, then turns like that way 'n kisses you like this.

"Aki, we shouldn't do this." you pull off his lips and he still chases after yours.

He looks like a psycho mess. Grazing his lips against yours. Breathing hard. Hair disheveled.

"You could do so much better." he admits right there against your face. "Y-y'know I meant what I said back there..." he breaths heavily before adding, "I could fuck you so much better than him."

He spies you rubbing your thighs together and his whole body runs hot. Leaning into you, he tries to stir you up some more.

"... come on... come inside, 'lemme show you."

"Aki, I'm a good girl. I don't do stuff like that..."

"But he doesn't even treat you well. Tell me, what do you owe him?"

You inhale deeply. "It's not right..."

" 'n that just makes it better..." he mutters under his breath. He pulls back, shakes his head and does a full 180. "Sorry... I'm just drunk."

He looks so pretty in this dim light.

The corridor of the apartment complex in which he stayed was so poorly lit, but right now? It lit up his dark, brooding features... black hair, blue eyes, and that overbearingly large frame; he really had that look going, hm?

His suit tie dangles deliciously before your eyes, and right then you feel a little surge of craziness yourself — oh and Aki just whimpers in surprise and delight when you yank him down by the tie to kiss him hard.

Hot, quick breaths, and small whimpers... yeah, it was a no-brainer where this was going.

Surely enough, it's three minutes later and you two are bursting inside his apartment, lip-locked like teenagers, his hands are all over your waist and squeezing places that you've always daydreamed of him squeezing.

"Nn!" you squirm at the friction of his leg coming between your thighs.

"L-l-let me I feel you, please." he whines with this need you've never heard in a man's voice. His long fingers are hesitantly tickling up the hem of your skirt. His knees are bent — tall boy problem; he can't kiss you without lowering himself significantly.

"Mhm!" you hum, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your pussy.

Letting out a low groan and eagerly feeling over your clothed pussy, Aki gets intoxicated on the smell of your perfume, just inhaling your neck like a vampire 'boutta bite.

He's multitasking just like he does in the office, the poor boy — trying to keep your lips entertained with his lips and trying to rub his middle finger up and down your clothed slit while trying to lure you into his dark bedroom.

You giggle all over his neck when you and him stumble into the bed like clumsy drunks, and that sound for some reason goes right to his cock.

Hand coming down, you squeeze at his bulge, "Aki, I didn't even know you liked me this much before tonight..."

"Then you're pretty oblivious, huh?" he murmurs, biting hard at your bottom lip.

*****

Aki's a sloppy eater between your legs, letting your slick run down his chin while his tongue wiggles inside.

"You taste so fucking good." he presses a twisted grin against your pussy lips, looking up at you momentarily, "Oh, baby, don't hide your face... I wanna see the expressions you make when you cum.

"A-A-Aaaki, nn!" you nest your fingers in his dark hair, pulling at it and eliciting a groan out of him that you feel all over your clit as he goes to suckle at it.

Soft lips puckered, tongue swirling, Aki shines his pretty blue eyes up at you and you don't even catch the devilish light in them because you're too blissed out — eyes pinched shut, a little drool escaping the corner of your mouth, head thrown back on the pillow of your co-workers black satin sheet bed.

"Can he make you feel this good, huh?" he asks.

"No!"

"Yeah? He doesn't make you cum on his tongue, does he? Need a real naughty boy to show you how it's done?" he asks in a taunting coo.

You're deliciously stuffed up with his long fingers, clenching around them tight and drenching him 'till your juices run down past his knuckles and get all over the palm of his shaky hand.

"Aw fuck, baby, you really like me don't you?"

"A-Aki, I'm not gonna tell you those kinds of things." you whine, feeling his fingertips rubbing somewhere deep in your gummy walls. Your eyes flicker into the back of your head as he just thrusts his fingers harder and meaner into your tiny hole.

"... 'guess I need to make you cum 'till you're dumb then, huh?"

****

He's crazed, up in your face, sticky damp sweaty forehead pressed against yours and eyes boring up into yours like he's gone crazy now after tasting your pussy. Aki's been mercilessly rubbing his thick cock back and forth through your folds, groaning each time he feels you cum — which has been how many times? More times than your boyfriend has made you cum in the last three months, that's for sure.

"Baby, tell me you love me." Aki begs, cock twitching as he intently watches your reactions to each thrust of his heavy cock. "Come on, y'love me yeah? You love me?"

"Aki! Nn... I can't say that... I have a boyf— ahh! Mnn!"

"Fuck, shut up about him already..." he groans.

He's perfectly stroking your clit like this, running through your folds, slicking up his cock 'till there's a sticky strand connecting from the base of his cock to your hole.

It's taking all his self-restraint not to plunge inside you. He's already accidentally poked his tip inside, each time immediately pulling out and profusely apologizing. But god it sent a shock of pleasure through his body to feel his tip squeeze through your tight ring of muscle like that.

Again it happens; he pulls back, accidentally pokes his leaky cockhead inside — just the very tip of the tip.

"Nn! Fuck!" you drool, giving him heart eyes, "Sh-shit, you're jus' trying to frustrate me now..."

"I'm sorry..." he bites his bottom lip, keeping his tip poised at your entrance. You can feel his throbbing heat against you, driving you crazy to breaking point.

"Sh-shit... jus' give it to me, then..."

"Are you su— fuckmeohmygodnnn!"

You've snaked your legs around his hips, locked 'em snug and tight and pulled his cock into your eager pussy yourself — trying to get as much of him into you as you can.

Aki's melting. He's literally falling to pieces when he feels your warm walls hugging his cock. He's stuttering. Trying to piece together a thought but your pussy is squeezing all logic out of his head.

"Y-you're s-s-so fucking tight..." he whines, sinking inch by inch out of you, then back in, rubbing his needy cockhead against your contracting walls. "Sh-shouldn't we use a condom?"

"Nooo! Gimmie your babies!" you lock your legs around his waist, giving him a crazed look. "Nn, please, 'm ovulating... it feels so good, I jus'... I jus' wanna..."

"Huh...?" his hips stutter and his cock throbs. "F-fuck... and here your man was always calling me the little psycho..." Aki smiles.

His head prods against your G-spot as he picks up his pace now that you've adjusted to his size. Even in his hazy state, Aki's so careful. Eyeing out your expressions for any discomfort, asking you if you want to keep going, wailing and whimpering when you just pull him into a hot and nasty kiss.

You should have expected it, because it's always the quiet psycho boys, but his thrusts destroy you.

He doesn't know what to obsess over. Your glossy lips? Your glossed-over eyes? The way his cock plunges into your slippery pussy and makes a bigger mess each time?

"Nn! Gonna cum... don't stop!" you whine, clawing at his back.

His ears perk up. Oh, you're gonna cum? Well, allow him to just...

"Good girl... fuck... cum for me. T-tell me you love me, 'n I'll cum too. Aw, please please please... I'll give you every last drop. I'll give you my babies — nn! Fuck! Please!"

He's shivering. His abdomen muscles twitch and flex with each pounding thrust into you. His cockhead is bullying a deep spot inside you, drawing out your orgasm and intently watching your eyes flicker as you cum all over his cock.

"I-I-I love youuu!" you whine, totally blissed out and dumbed by the feeling of his cock stimulating your sensitive walls, "Nn, I love you! Aki!"

It's your words and the milking contractions of your sweet orgasm that draw out his own orgasm.

"Fuck, good girl... m-mine forever, yeah? Fffuck 'm cumming... ahah, I love you so much."

He hides his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a harsh groan, and shoots a thick load — pushing himself deeper as he cums, pressing his cockhead up against your cervix, just to make sure that he's got you pregnant so you can never leave him now.

He's panting, coming down from his high with you. You feel him hug you tight, his bicep muscles twitching at your sides.

"Aki... I need help cleanin' up..." you whimper softly under his weight.

"... of course, baby."

"Don't call me that..."

"Baby."

You giggle and swat him. "You're a bad boy... now help me out, will ya?"

[archangeldyke-all]

I love all of the isha, jinx, reader and sev found family so much.

Was wondering about a reader who had a shaky relationship with their family. A couple of ideas. Maybe they are so worried about hurting isha, or they don't really know much about parenting and family. Maybe they are just hesitant. Or they don't talk too much either, but connect with isha.

I have no clue, would love anything, love your writing so much!! Totally fine if not I hope you have an awesome day either way :))

- 🌱

eeeee gonna combine this!!

thinking abt jinx isha and sev snuggling up to reader when she’s sad :(

men and minors dni

there are days, for both you and sevika, where the abundance of love from your new found family overwhelm you.

neither of you had the best childhoods. neither of you are close with your families now. and sometimes realizing that this is what a family is supposed to feel like kinda paralyzes you.

it's a horrible combination of grief and horror for your younger self, and for jinx and isha before they had you, and a gratefulness that you've managed to escape the cycles of abuse that have haunted your bloodlines.

it happens to sevika most often. jinx will spill a glass at dinner and you'll all calmly clean it up, giggling and teasing jinx for her butterfingers-- and sevika will get choked up with how easy it is. how little yelling, bleeding and crying had to occur for the problem to be solved.

she usually has to take a minute to herself, sometimes dragging you with her to the bedroom to bury her face against your neck and breathe in your scent as she calms down.

but after a few minutes, it washes over her, and she's back to her normal self.

it's different for you. it isn't little moments that trigger it, it just creeps up out of nowhere. you'll wake up one morning with the weight of the world pinning you to the bed, and you just won't be able to get up.

today's one of those days.

you don't know why it's happening now, but it's happening. how could you face a world that would treat a child so horribly that she can't talk? a world where doctors will fuse teenage girls' blood with shimmer, permanently altering her senses and instincts? a world where 'peacemakers' flood the streets with toxic gas?

you can't. at least not today.

"baby, it's almost eleven." sevika whispers, gently pulling the blankets away from your body. "'re you sick?" she asks, feeling your forehead tenderly.

her touch makes you weepy. you take a shaky breath. "i just--" you cut yourself off with a squeaky sob. sevika's face falls, and she quickly scrambles to join you in bed, scooping you into her arms. "i just can't do it today, sev." you say, falling apart against her chest.

sevika lets you cling to her, gently stroking your back and kissing your head as you cry against her. "that's alright, love." she whispers. "i'll do it all for you today."

this only makes you cry harder.

"sevika, where'd you go?! we're about to race rainbow road, c'mon i wanna watch isha kick your ass aga-- oh, shit." jinx cuts herself off, her eyes wide as she blinks at the pair of you. "y-you alright, sweetcheeks?" she asks, a worried little frown on her lips.

before you can answer, little footsteps come thumping toward your room. hurry up, big mama! isha signs as she comes sprinting in the room. her eyes get wide and worried, and she tugs jinx's hand pointing at you with concern. ms. baby, what's wrong? isha asks.

"she's just... having a rough day, kids." sevika explains, rubbing your back for you. a few tears leak out of your eyes at her gentle voice and her careful words. "y'know those days where you just need to be sad?"

jinx seems to understand, her eyes softening in sympathy and one of her arms reaching out to start playing with isha's hair. "yeah, i've had a few of those." she chuckles wryly. "just gotta cry in bed until tomorrow." jinx shrugs. "sorry, sweetcheeks."

you smile weakly at jinx. "'s alright. i'll be up and at 'em again soon."

isha's still worried, though. ms. baby, do you need a kiss? she signs.

you burst into a fresh round of tears, and jinx chuckles, just a little. "t-that would be great, isha." you sob. isha scrambles into bed beside you and sevika, carefully holding your face between her tiny hands as she kisses your forehead. it's surprising just how much her little kiss makes you feel better. you chuckle a little. "thanks kiddo."

"do you wanna come lay on the couch? watch us play mario? you can still cry and sleep, but at least we'll be there to keep you company." sevika offers.

you smile, then frown. "that sounds amazing, baby, but i don't think i have the energy to get out of bed." you admit. sevika scoffs and gets out of bed. your heart sinks, and you choke on a sob. "i-i know it's pathetic, 'm sor--"

"baby, shut the fuck up." sevika says, ripping the blankets off of you. you gasp and shiver, and sevika leans down and easily hauls you up into her arms. you gasp and squeal, and jinx and isha burst into laughter and screams. "jinx, will you grab a few pillows for her?" sevika asks as she starts carrying you into the living room. jinx trails behind you, your pillows and a blanket in her arms.

isha disappears into her bedroom, only to return as sevika's settling you down on the couch, placing her favorite bunny plushy in your arms. bunny will make you feel better. she signs. you start to cry again, nodding and thanking her shakily, cradling the stuffy to your chest.

isha and jinx settle down on the floor in front of the couch, and sevika covers you up with blankets before pulling your legs into her lap and sitting beside you. "you gonna be able to sleep with us screaming at each other?" she asks, grabbing her controller. you chuckle and nod.

"no different from any other nap i take." you tease. sevika grins and you sigh happily, your heart throbbing with appreciation and love.

you fall asleep after sevika falls off the track for the third time. when you wake back up, isha and jinx have piled on top of you and sevika, all three of them snoring as they enjoy an afternoon nap.

despite the heaviness in your chest and your tired eyes trying to drag you back to sleep, you take a moment to remember the moment before you close your eyes--knowing that despite all the horrible associations you've had with family in your past; from now on this is what family will be.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan

[thankskenpenders]

IDW's Knuckles 30th Anniversary special

I'm still working on finishing Shadow Generations and writing up a big thing about it (yes, yes, it's taken me a month to finish a four hour game, I know), but in the meantime we've got another new Classic era comic out from IDW! Let's talk about that.

The last Classic era release we got was the Fang miniseries earlier this year, which I mostly enjoyed but also found a bit underwhelming. It felt like we were getting diminishing returns with the Classic comics. Ian seemed to be struggling to make the Classic era feel fresh within Sega's current restrictions for that branch of the brand, a branch that by its very nature discourages experimentation and new ideas in a way that the ever-evolving Modern era doesn't. He was mostly just playing the hits, sticking the currently permitted Classic era characters next to each other in straightforward one-off adventures and letting the art team do their thing. We were getting the Ian who was happy to simply be able to take these toys out of the toy box. Again, these comics have been fine, and the art's always a treat, but the novelty of simply seeing a comic with the old character designs was wearing off for me when the stories didn't have as much meat as Ian's (or Evan's) excellent Modern era work.

And then along comes this Knuckles 30th Anniversary special, which is by far my favorite Classic Sonic comic Ian's written for IDW.

...I can't really talk about why it's so good without getting into spoilers, though. The short version is that it's a really nice little story about Knuckles and another character from the games, who's used as a great foil for him... except the solicit didn't even say which character it is, so I'm hesitant to say here. But if you're a fan of Knuckles, you should definitely just go read this. It's great. This one's mandatory reading to me.

And with that out of the way, let's dig deeper and get into the spoilers.

The spoiler zone

After an opening that very blatantly homages Tyson Hesse's old Knuckles comic (yes, the very same one that helped inspire the name of this blog), Knuckles realizes that Angel Island has drifted near the Northstar Islands from Sonic Superstars, and decides that the Master Emerald must be giving him a mission to train the archipelago's own resident guardian.

Yes, this isn't just a Knuckles comic. It's a Knuckles and Trip comic!

I was really delighted by this. I like Trip a lot, and it's nice to get this chance to expand upon her as a character. I think this is her first speaking role, even? I'm glad to see her stick around, and I'm glad to see her appear in the comics so soon, especially since we're still waiting for the mainline comics to incorporate Sage. She's still clumsy and fairly timid, like in the game, but without the looming thread of Eggman she gets to let loose a little. She's very exuberant and expressive and playful, especially thanks to Aaron Hammerstrom's fantastic art throughout the issue (complemented with inks by Rik Mack and colors by Valentina Pinto). It makes sense why she gets along so well with Amy. I hope we get to see those two interact more in the future!

Anyway, so Knuckles shows up on the Northstar Islands after contemplating his lot in life, and realizes that he and Trip have a lot in common. She's not as strong or confident as him, but they're both the last of their kind, these lone guardians of these ancient magical gemstones. He's showing up under the pretense of training her, but you can tell it's nice for him to have a kindred spirit, someone who might be able to really get him.

And then Trip's like... wait, you think I'm the last of my kind?

Yes, the Northstar Islands have actually been inhabited by a whole civilization of sungazers like Trip the whole time! We just didn't see them in the game because, y'know. Eggman was attacking. So Trip told everyone to find shelter and hide from the Badniks. (This actually makes a lot of sense, since you pass by this very village in Speed Jungle Zone. Somebody's gotta maintain those straw roofs and light those torches, and I can't imagine Trip managing all that upkeep herself.)

This also includes a grandfather for Trip, who's been training her as the archipelago's new guardian. Naturally, this has led to some speculation from fans about the old "mandates." In the wake of the Penders lawsuits and Archie's reboot, Sega declared that the comics could no longer create comic-original relatives for the game characters. Has that changed now?

Well, I'm hesitant to read too much into this. For one, as Ian has tried to drill into peoples' heads for years now, the so-called "mandates" aren't a set of concrete commandments from Sega, they just have some general guidelines for the brand, some of which have more wiggle room than others and some of which have changed over time. There's also the simple fact that Sega is working way more closely with the team at IDW, and that people like Ian and Evan are literally on the official Sonic lore team now. Ian can presumably work with the lore team and Sega to figure out Trip's family, and then go and work what they've decided on into a comic, so it's entirely possible Trip's grandpa isn't considered a comic-original character so much as he's a character conceptualized at Sega who just happens to have appeared in an IDW comic before anything else. The lines are a lot blurrier now with all this cross-pollination, compared to the Archie days when it was a separate creative team and a separate canon.

But, again, I don't want to speculate too heavily about what goes on behind the scenes. Regardless, Ian was able to use this comic to expand upon the world of the games and the characters that inhabit it, and I love it for that. It's the first of these Classic comics that feels like truly mandatory reading for the way it builds upon the games. These days we so rarely get to see communities like this in the Sonic world with their own cultures. It's not like we know anything about "hedgehog culture" or whatever. So this is a nice change of pace. The Northstar Islands feel totally different now that I know they've actually been inhabited the whole time, and knowing that Trip is part of an active community with their own history and customs puts a whole new spin on her as a character.

It also makes her a great foil for Knuckles here. He showed up on the island thinking he'd have a lot to teach Trip as someone who's got more life experience as a lone guardian, only to realize his assumptions about her life were completely wrong. Trip brags to her grandpa that Knuckles is gonna train her, but he quickly realizes he doesn't have much to teach her. She may be kind of cowardly, but she knows her way around the island, she can think on her feet, and she can handle herself well enough in a fight, in her own slapstick way.

He doesn't say as much, but you can tell Knuckles is embarrassed about all this. This clumsy kid is showing him up, even though she won't even really listen to his advice! He's also, perhaps, a bit jealous. It's not like he had a grandfather to train him in the ways of being a guardian. (Not in this continuity, anyway.) He doesn't get a whole village of echidnas to teach him about his heritage. He doesn't get fancy ceremonial armor. It's just him, a big green rock, and his two fists. He thought he had this whole guardian thing figured out, and he'd be able to give a kindred spirit like Trip some advice, but it turns out she's lived a whole different life, making him question if he even knows what he's doing. He quickly gets fed up with both Trip and himself, blowing up at her a little.

After reflecting a bit, Knuckles goes back to Trip and comes clean. He doesn't really know how to train her, because no one ever trained him. He figured things out on his own. If he had anyone there to raise him, they've been gone since he was too young to remember. He just knows he has to protect the Master Emerald. That's it. It's a pretty vulnerable moment for Knuckles, one where his dissatisfaction with his life comes to the surface.

Still, Trip sees things differently. He may be used to the fact that he lives on a giant floating island powered by a giant magic emerald, but she thinks that's, like, the coolest thing in the world. HER islands don't fly! And while Knuckles might wish he had someone to train him, Trip thinks that Knuckles becoming such a fearsome fighter all on his own, without even armor to protect him, makes him super awesome and admirable. With both of them feeling better, Trip takes Knuckles to Golden Capital to talk about her heritage as a guardian of the Northstar Islands a bit more, and Knuckles tells her that he thinks she'll be a great guardian before he heads home, once again feeling pretty good about himself.

While this is a pretty straightforward little story about how the grass is always greener on the other side, it's a very effective and sweet one that I enjoyed reading a ton. Aside from the fun of learning more about Trip and the Northstar Islands, it's just a great showcase for Knuckles. (It's definitely a way better showcase for him than his Paramount+ show, as much as I took sick pleasure in that show's baffling creative decisions.) There are also some fun details about his life in here, such as the fact that Sonic, Tails, and Amy have taken camping trips to hang out with him on Angel Island, and the fact that he trained Amy in using her hammer better.

It's just real good, and it feels like the most meaningful addition to The Canon out of any of these Classic era comics Ian's written. We're still gonna be getting more in the future, so hopefully this is a sign that Ian and the lore team have found that happy middle ground where they can keep the Classic comics familiar and nostalgic while also being able to branch out and expand upon things.

Speaking of future comics!

Coming attractions

The end of this issue confirms some things that are in the works for IDW Sonic. For one, we're getting a Chaotix 30th Anniversary special next year. Neat! They also mention some kind of Shadow one-shot dropping following the movie, however fans seem split on whether this is referring to a new story or just the "Best of Shadow" compilation one-shot that's coming out next month. So don't get your hopes up about that in case it's the latter, I guess.

And while we're still waiting for issue #75 of the main series, the IDW team is already thinking all the way ahead to #100, which should drop sometime during the 35th anniversary of the franchise in 2026. Clearly the team's still confident about the longevity of IDW Sonic and excited for the future. And I am, too! Bring on #75!

[ridingtorohan]

The Tulpar crew's reactions to walking in on you and post-crash Curly

𓇻 content warning. absolutely nothing explicit. can be viewed as dub-con given curly's circumstance, but I promise he consented. anya's reaction mentions sexual assault (jimmy to anya, but mainly she suspects reader did it to curly) and jimmy's mentions abuse (jimmy to curly) and a bit of voyeurism.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

Masterlist

Daisuke handles it like a champ. In the way that means he very much doesn't.

Absolute mess, apologizing profusely as he backs away, shielding his eyes dramatically. Hits the sides of the door on his way out. Both sides. He pin-balled.

Recovers fast but can't look at you in the eyes for a long time without picturing you like that.

"So how does it work when he's, y'know?"

So curious that it's not even funny.

Tries to get Curly to tell him the facts but Curly just does his laugh rattle

Honestly, he doesn't treat either of you differently, but he grins SUPER wide each time you go in to check in on Curly

"Get it, Captain!!!!"

May or may not time you just to tease you about it (gets so red if you tease him back)

Processes then immediately walks out

"Is this what kids do these days?"

Knew about you and curly's relationship/situation so he isn't surprised.

But you'll get his fatherly look of disappointment.

"At least make sure you're not snapping every last bone of his, alright?"

Doesn't tell anybody else because he knew it was consensual from the sounds you both made (he definitely asked Curly afterward just to make sure)

If you take a lot of shift work watching curly, he'll intercept and roll his eyes, "Jesus, let the poor guy rest"

Freezes, processes, then storms right up, eyes wild and voice high. "What are you doing?!"

She all but separates you from curly as fast as she can, tears in her eyes.

Curly sure as hell never protected her from Jimmy but she wouldn't let you abuse one of her patients.

Might be able to be coaxed down.

Shift work with Curly is outright canceled for everyone. At least until Curly conveys that no, he very much wanted that, (head nods go a long way, people).

Anya is still suspicious and weary. It's months before she stops hovering by the door, but a part of her is relieved, too.

The absolute last person you want walking in.

Stands there like a creep, eyes assessing. Memorizing.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asks layer with a wrinkled nose, as if you're the one with the problem.

Honestly becomes kind of bitchy about the whole ordeal

Watches you a lot more intently that it becomes uncomfortable

Definitely imagines how you looked on that cot with the former captain

Passive aggressive with you afterwards, but fortunately, because nobody is really alone anymore, he can't do anything to you about it. If he had been attracted to you before and the crash never happened, you'd be in hot water.

Curly, however, gets the short end of the stick. Have you heard the audio of what Jimmy does to Curly the second time when giving him pills? Yep, he beats him more routinely

After all, how is it fair that Curly has doomed them all but still gets the glory?

[saltnsugarbear]

Lip with “Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” “Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” “…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.” 

so like on the low i ate this up

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: KAREN SLANDER IM SO SORRY (I don't like her but I hate slut shaming more) they don't enthusiastically consent but they're both into it I'm sorry 😔, so ig dubcon, oral (m!receiving) (don't ask for this ever again), Lip is kind of mean (the voices olive got to me on that one)

side note: don't expect any bj fics again cause I hate the idea of giving men head SORRY also I like triggered my own life apocalypse (got sick at work, power went out, etc)

come celebrate!

One of Lip's favorite things about you is your competitive nature. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, but it's one of the things that endeared him to you.

It made him like pushing your buttons even more.

So complaining while you actually work on your group project is the perfect way to annoy you today. However you've stopped paying him any mind, about three minutes into his griping. So he tries a new approach.

Bringing up his most recent conquests. So obviously that means he feels the need to mention Karen.

And the fact that instead of being tutored, she gave Lip head instead. The story makes you roll your eyes, shaking your head when he comments that it's probably the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

"It could not have been that good.." You scoff, trying to focus on finishing the sentence you're writing. "Actually, I take that back. Given how big of a slut she is, she's probably had plenty of practice."

"Oh fuck you-" Lip starts.

"Am I wrong?" You challenge him quickly, glaring up from your page.

"You're just pissed off you're not getting any." He sneers. You roll your eyes, you're not having this conversation with him.

Lip takes your silence as agreement, snickering lightly. "No wonder you're so uptight, you're not getting laid."

You have to bite your tongue to keep from retorting. He's fucking insufferable.

"Everything makes so much more sense now. Because I kept asking myself, y'know, why you're such a bitch. But it makes sense now, you're not getting away so you need to take your frustrations out another way."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You don't know shit about who I'm fucking." You snap at him, putting your pen down none too gently.

"Right, like anyone would be able to fuck you. Probably too fucking tight up there, can't even get a finger in you." Lip's look is gloating, like he's won some verbal sparring match.

You don't know why you're moving. Pushing out of your chair and tugging Lip's back. Lip sputters at the abruptness of your yanking, arms flying out for balance. Once there's enough space for you, you quickly step in between his legs before dropping down to your knees.

You're a little surprised at the small tent in Lip's slacks already, scoffing after you piece it together. "You get off on the sound of your own voice?"

"What? No. What are you-" You cut Lip's questioning off quickly, pushing yourself up to rest on your toes so you can easily rest your arm on his thigh as you press your palm against his half hard dick. Lip's words are muddled as you bully him through the fabric, fighting himself for some composure.

With one last squeeze, you bring both of your hands to his hips, pulling him forward until he's sitting at the very edge. You don't miss how he inhales sharply at your rough handling.

Once he's positioned better, you sit flat on your feet before looking up at him through your lashes and leaning forward, licking at his erection through his slacks. Lip groans as you continue to mouth at his cock, head falling back as you suck softly around the fabric.

Once you're satisfied with the wet patch you've made in his pants, you bring your hands to unbutton and unzip them before tugging them down slightly. Lip helps you out by lifting his hips up, letting drag them down past his knees. Your saliva bled through his pants, dampening his boxers where you had been teasing him.

Taking your time, you go back to mouthing at his erection. You can hear him shifting above you, glancing up to see him bring his hands around. Lip's hands are pushy as they hold the back of your head.

"Uh-uh.." You pull away from his bulge, catching his wrists before leaning forward and tucking them behind his back. "Those stay there."

"Fuck..." Lip mutters.

"Lift." You tap his hips as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Lip is a quick listener, lifting his hips up so you can tug his boxers down to his pants. He breathes out heavily when his cock springs free, hitting his stomach.

You're quick to take him in your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underneath of his length. There's a sense of pride as Lip struggles to form any words, the only things leaving his mouth a mix of whines and groans.

"Fuck, wait- shit-" Lip grunts as you sink back down to the base, glancing up at him with your nose brushing against his happy trail. "Mm- fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?"

You hum around his length, feeling how he twitches in your mouth before pulling all the way off.

"Well, the noises you're making are a pretty good indication of how you like it." You grin up at him, bringing your hand to wrap around the base of his cock.

"...God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it's turning me on even more." Lip's eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, watching as you slowly jerk him off. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back towards his cock.

"I liked you better when you could barely speak," you tell him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of him.

"Fuu- ughh.." Lip grunts as you suckle at his head. His hips buck up into your mouth, pushing himself farther in. You hum sharply, taking your hands away from his base and pushing back against his hips. Lip breathes heavily as you keep his hips in place, flicking your tongue over the slit before pressing gently at the underside of his head.

"Wait-" Lip chokes out, hips bucking up again. "Shit, shit- fuck-"

Lip's release is thick on your tongue and you're quick to open your mouth, letting him watch as his cum coats your tongue. Doing such makes Lip swear, another rope covering your tongue. You pull away from him, sticking your tongue out for him to see all of his release before making a show of swallowing it.

"Still think she gave you the best blowjob of your life?"

[boom-butterflyeffect]

bless you and your until dawn hcs, they feed the freak in me...[hehe]

anyways until dawn men with a reader who likes biting them and how well the boys would react to it, PLEASE AND THANK YOUUUUU

i am here to feed the freaks

(very slowly tho because my brain sucks a bit)

UNTIL DAWN MEN BITEY STUFF

Matt

Hmm... this is a difficult one. I don't think Matt would be into biting, but if there was a reader who enjoyed biting him, he'd just kinda get used to it, and find it silly and a bit funny. Gets bit and just shakes his head with a sigh and a smile on his face. "You're a weirdo. Y'know that, right?" but his tone couldn't be more affectionate.

Chris

I feel like biting would catch Chris very much by surprise, and he wouldn't know how to feel about it. Could probably initiate some playful wrestling with him restraining your hands, "Would you stop that?" with a big smile on his face. Would make zombie and/or cannibal jokes.

"I know I'm just so irresistibly muscular and whatever, but can you try not to eat me?"

Josh

Oh boy. If you bite, he's biting back harder. I hc him as a bit of a masochist as well as a sadist, and would absolutely LOVE a reader that bites him. Lots of play wrestling, biting, getting pinned, all part of the fun for him.

Now if you bite during sex, that's a whole other thing. That's just motivating him to go even harder.

Mike

Mike thinks it's funny and endearing, even though it catches him off guard sometimes. He gets used to it. He scolds you like you're a puppy,

"Hey, that's not nice." as he pries your teeth from him, with that trademark smirk of his on his face, trying not to laugh.

During sex, it's like a bit of reassurance that he's doing good, and that you're enjoying it, so he's got no complaints.

[mad-hunts]

if barton tried hard enough, he thought, imagining himself being literally anywhere else but the warehouse right then was easy. this place was never meant to be lived in for an extended period of time after all; despite the fact that it had appliances that you might see in an every day home like a fridge.

it put him on edge instead of at ease, and it certainly didn't better barton's mood when he stayed in it either, after all. but so long as he was allowed to dream within it to some degree... it was tolerable. plus, he had company here, courtesy of nico, jack, and barton also supposed jervis counted. nico had complicated feelings towards the doctor, though, and spending time around jack whilst in it thus far gave barton an unfortunate impression; which was that his own son was made nervous by him.

and the irony of it all was, barton only gathered that because he could feel cognitive empathy towards him. something that didn't include feeling but reasoning. therefore, the hopes of him somehow patching that up with jack someday were drastically decreased. barton vaguely listened to jervis respond to what he'd said about him being in the warehouse solely because of them; all of the words but one not quite having any actual impact on him, this being 'nightmares.'

the smell of the yuja tea that jack prepared for jervis, as fragrant in the air that it was, seemed to be the one thing keeping him from being sucked down a unpleasant train of thought. for someone who didn't feel human half the time, barton sure as hell experienced his own fair share of seeing 'ghosts' from the past and mourning the way some things had gone in his life. and regret, as well as sorrow, were practically intertwined in every single 'normal' person's life that he'd known.

speaking of regret, once he'd closed the curtains, something from the small cabinet hanging on the wall next to them fell to the floor. barton picked it up and was immediately reminded of why he kept this photo here instead of at his home. hiding it away helped alleviate the pain of not only loving someone and losing them, but also knowing that at the time it was taken, everything seemed fine.

'my 19th birthday party - spent right, with my handsome fiancé!' was written on the back in marcy's handwriting. barton felt like screaming and smashing something simultaneously. the photo was instead placed in his pant pocket, whilst he dragged his hands down his face and thanked his lucky stars that jervis wasn't exactly expecting any big conversations from him. barton's hand flexed by his side before he was changing his shirt, wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do after seeing that again.

grief was a thing he'd never been able to pend down how to deal with 'appropriately,' unfortunately. from marcy, to the momentary blink of an eye that felt like his bittersweet friendship with yves, to his son julien's death - barton thought he'd be destroyed by all of those losses for the longest time. but he supposed he was still here, god willing, or laughing at him more like if such a being did exist. barton noticed the fabric that was splitting on the blanket and how jervis very much appeared to be in his own world.

it was at that moment that he reached for something in that same cabinet he'd opened to change his shirt, finding that sewing thread and needle he'd stored in there long ago. barton kept it there because the shirt he was wearing had actually torn at some point and he'd fixed it. though, he had no use for it now, so he decided to put it on the edge of edge of the cabinet if jervis wanted it. but he didn't really know what he wanted. that night seemed to be a series of gut punches now as the other touched upon how jack was a good person and barton should be proud of him.

he blinked several times as he felt this sensation like something ugly was swirling within him. jack had always kind of gotten the short-end of the stick, and for what? ❝ ahh. well, sometimes i've found myself practicing behaviors towards him that my father used to use on me... but i try to stop myself when that happens. jack has come a long way, as the first time i met him, he was a scared two year old who was on his own with his brother. but now jack's a young man and very brave, despite maybe still being scared sometimes. ❞ barton cleared his throat then, ❝ that's normal though. so yeah, i am proud of him. ❞

barton turned his attention back to jervis and tilted his head at the other's sluggishness. being vulnerable like that surprisingly didn't feel too nerve-wracking, as he added just a bit more to the equation. barton gave the iv bag jervis was hooked up to a good squeeze, ❝ hmm. are you still in pain, jervis? or are you just tired? ❞ he observed the other silently and looked down at the cards before the both of them. that is, before barton heard jervis approve of him reading his fortune.

he drifted a hand along the cards then. choosing one that felt 'right' came without much difficulty to barton, and when he did, the reversed 'wheel of fortune' card for jervis's past. the next card he chose was the reversed 'six of swords' for jervis's present. barton flipped the last one for his future and was greeted by 'the sun,' which made him let out a soft 'huh' and smile a bit. ❝ well... i hate to start off with the past when you got this card, but i guess we have to. ❞ he was about to start interpreting jervis's fortune when jack came back into the room with the breakfast he promised the other. well, talk about convenient timing.

Jervis merely rolled his eyes at Barton’s remark, fingers biting into the fabric of the blanket as he pulled it around his shoulders like an old shawl. The plush material was a little threadbare at the corner; a tear disrupting the otherwise seamless fabric.

Sea-green and white plaid. Utilitarian, impersonal.

It sufficed perfectly; his thin frame was almost terminally intolerant to the cold. 27 years in Gotham had failed to inoculate him against the frigid rains and bone-chilling air sweeping off the harbor.

“Trust me, I’m well aware where I would be, if it weren’t for you both. I see enough of the place in my nightmares… so I don’t require any reminders.” He flexed his fingers around the teacup, feeling the warmth seep into his hands as he cautiously tipped the liquid into his mouth. It had a strange, but not unpleasant consistency, like warm, thin honey that slid smoothly over his tongue in a tangy blend of sweet and sour. Tiny bits of softened citrus peel floated in the syrupy mixture.

Barton’s IV pole scraped slightly along the concrete floor, a sharp metallic sound that mingled with the sudden rasp of the curtains being jerked shut. The room was clean and sparse, a sterile space designed to be free of clutter, yet a faint, telltale mustiness clung to the air—a lingering scent of damp fabric and stale dust that disinfectant alone couldn’t quite mask. Beyond the makeshift partition, the rest of the warehouse stretched out in vast, dark emptiness. The floor was cold, unpolished concrete, marred with cracks that split like spider webs. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh, uneven glow, barely cutting through the haze of dust that swirled in the air.

But, of course, beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to hideaways—especially when you’ve learned to take shelter wherever you can find it. Or when you were part of the criminal element.

How far he’d come and how little had truly changed.

Jervis glanced across the room at where his coat, shirt, and gloves rested neatly on the desk, carefully folded with almost surgical precision. He flexed his hands again around the teacup, feeling the phantom prickle of sensation where the wool-lined leather should be—an exposed vulnerability that gnawed at him, made his skin itch with invisible grime.

He sank his teeth into a particularly broad piece of yuja peel, the bitter tang releasing as he bit down; meanwhile, Barton’s voice drifted in one ear, out the other like the static hum on a faulty wireless. He chewed slowly, savoring the rind as he turned his attention back to the small tear in the blanket. Nodded intermittently.

Jervis’ callused, scarred fingers found the frayed edge; the fabric was worn thin and splitting, and he traced it absentmindedly, feeling the uneven fibers beneath his touch. For a moment, his thoughts shifted to the sewing kit buried somewhere in his bag, imagining the small spool of thread and the thin, glinting needles; each one ready to pierce the fabric and pull it back together.

As if stitching this small wound would make any real difference, he thought bitterly; like it could somehow soothe the cold reality pressing in on them from all sides… It was a small, pointless task, a flicker of control in a situation that felt like it was slipping away, unraveling faster than he could sew it back together. He knew it wouldn’t ameliorate anything—wouldn’t solve the problems looming larger than this tiny, frayed corner. And yet, his fingers lingered there, desperate for something tangible to fix; something he could make whole again, if only for a moment.

Jervis gave no reply as Barton moved to change his shirt; blinking hard as he gazed down at the floor, but the darkness behind his eyelids refused to stay empty. Flecks of indigo light bloomed in the black, shifting like dust motes that twisted with each beat of his heart. The room swam as he opened his eyes again, the ceiling blurred and murky like the styrofoam cup Alice stored her wet paintbrushes in. He scratched absently at the IV in his arm, feeling the tug of the thin plastic embedded in his skin but barely registering the discomfort. The bright pinpricks danced at the edges of his vision, trailing like little comets whenever he turned his head.

“You ought to be proud of him, I imagine. Your son… he seems like a good lad.” Jervis’ voice was a wisp of silk, smooth and thin, like it might unravel into nothing if he spoke too loudly. He tilted his head slightly, almost resembling a marionette on a slack string, the hint of a smile touching his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. He ran a finger along the rim of his teacup, the motion delicate and deliberate as he pondered Barton’s final query.

“Hmm… can you?” Gray eyes blinked slowly, the lids heavy and sluggish, further dragged down by fatigue. The question lingered in the air, softly innocuous. He glanced over at the tarot cards Jack left behind on the desk—arranged in a rough, careless spread, but somehow feeling deliberate, as though the cards had fallen exactly where they were meant to. The edges were worn, curling slightly; the images esoteric, half-familiar symbols. Stars, sun, moon, cups and swords, animals and human figures rendered in faded colors.

He paused, gaze narrowing, subtly curious despite the exhaustion that weighed down his expression. For a moment, his hand tightened around his teacup; twitched like he might reach out and touch them, as if by brushing the surface he could glean some hidden answer buried beneath the painted ink.

‘Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all.’

His grip on the blanket slipped momentarily, fumbling at the worn edge before he reached for his collar instead. He dug beneath the charcoal fabric of his T-shirt, searching with a practiced motion until his fingers found the tarnished silver chain again. He drew it out slowly, the weight of it comforting against his skin as he absently ran his thumb over his and Sylvie’s rings, threaded side by side on the links.

The metal was dull, no longer shining with the luster it once had, but it carried a certain softness now, smoothed by years of worry. His eyes dropped for a second before he let the chain slip back beneath his shirt. “By all means, if it tickles your fancy…” Jervis gave a short, rough half-shrug, the motion stunted as though his shoulder couldn’t quite decide whether to follow through.

[peachyfnaf]

Looks at today's SAMS, gets the summary from my friends, and takes a longgg drag of my crushed-Smarties cigarette roll

So let me get this straight, or let me say my piece ig

Moon's solution for Sun hallucinating Nexus, as of right now, is to lock away his trauma deep within Sun's head. Aka, make Sun repress his (bad) memories of Nexus.

I. Do not like that. That is FRUSTRATING for SO MANY REASONS.

Moon has mentioned many-a-time that he does not like himself. He does not like how he reacts to things, how he deals with things, etcetera, etcetera. And y'know what repression is? It's a very Moon "coping skill" to have.

My question is, if Moon already hates how he responds to things, why is he making Sun. Do this? Not to mention that anyone with half-a-brain (and we know Moon is, in fact, big-brained) knows that repression is not good.

ALSO. I will give Moon that he said this solution was "only temporary", but how much can we trust that? You know what else was supposed to be temporary? Nexus being locked in space. Who's to say that this really does make Sun perk up and come out of his shell a little bit, so Moon just... forgets about it, until it's too late.

And OH. Not to MENTION that we literally have another story-line going on at the EXACT SAME TIME that's showing us how bad repression can be. Gestures to LAES.

Lunar is where he is now because he refused to acknowledge and grow from his traumas that were caused by V1/V2 Eclipse. He repressed his emotions. He is still repressing them, and because he did it for so long, he ended up harshly injuring his own sister.

AND ANOTHER THING. Does anyone else just... get the slight ick about something being locked away in someone else's head... again? Yes, I understand that these are emotions being locked away, not a bot. But. Looks at how Old Moon was trapped in Sun's head for so long. Looks at Eclipse trapped in Sun. Lunar trapped in Moon, Old Moon trapped in Killcode- you get it.

It's just. Haven't we learned by now that locking things in minds is A BAD IDEA???

Okay, I have said my piece. Puts down my smarties cigarette.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Forever and Ever... Even in the 1920s-1960s

Started going down a long digression in the 2+4 essay. Gonna follow this breadcrumb trail over here instead...

One of my arguments is that Gordon actually behaves well and graciously way more often than he is usually given credit for (and starts doing this way earlier than often credited, too).

Along the way, I realized that his spots of bad behavior are not random. When he starts acting all Ass, it's almost always in the period of some sort of major change in his life:

The Three Railway Engines - *waves hand vaguely* all of it -> he's just transferred from the GNR to Sodor

Troublesome Engines - *waves hand again* y'know, all of it -> Thomas moved away :(

Henry the Green Engine - harrumphing about how Henry has let the side down in like three different ways directly after Henry's major reconstructive surgery -> the horrible wreck where Henry, his best friend, could have died, and instead was in hospital the rest of the damn winter

Gordon the Big Engine - "Mind you keep on the rails today!" and then, when he gets pushback, retreating to old friend "boasting" -> is he mother-henning Henry?? he's explicitly referencing the Kipper accident! I would not be too shocked to learn that Gordon gets twinges of unease that he never examines every so often whenever he sees Henry with a train

Percy the Small Engine - "Quack quack quack!" and trying to bully Duck (lol. lmao, even) -> Percy is gonna move away :(

Main Line Engines - getting on his high horse about "Branch Line Diesels" and then getting into a huge spat with Edward that results a brand-new beat-down of a dead horse named "Edward is Weak and Useless" -> We learn in "Wrong Road" that his fireman is new. Presumably his old fireman advanced to fill the role, leaving the vacancy... which means that Gordon recently lost his old driver to retirement.

You might be thinking "well yeah, stressors are stressful, most people's outbreaks of bad behavior have to do with some sort of Big Life Thing" - I certainly thought so, for a mo'. But this isn't true of the other major characters? James's worst behavior in the Wilbert books comes when he is slightly delayed sometimes during his work day and when Toby just, erm… exists. Thomas's worst behavior is because he… doesn't like his snowplough, and has a careless cleaner.

No, only Gordon's poor behavior can so consistently be linked to big changes. Indeed, not many RWS characters have been seen with quite as much of an interior life as we learn Gordon has in "Tenders for Henry." By that point, Gordon has matured enough that he doesn't express his feelings in this emotionally-stupid make-it-everyone's-problem sort of way. But we can see clearly that the end of steam seems to affect him more deeply than anyone else at Tidmouth.

So yeah, I think there's something real and insightful in the above pattern. Once again, my friends - Galloping Sausage with Feelings.

[metaphorwritings]

Do you have any headcanons for Strohl with a very physically affectionate partner?? Bro's so pretty I just want to kiss his hand like the pretty princess he is

Metaphor Headcanons #2

-. Oh, I was waiting for this one!!!

-. Okay, so lemme just say that Strohl is a man who can do both when it comes to affection.

-. Allow me to explain.

-. When you and Strohl first started seeing each other officially, he was a MESS!!!

-. In private, like, hand holding and little kisses, and he'd blush, he'd stutter, y'know cute shit!

-. But in public, this boy is bright red!!!

-. If you take his hand in public, he will freeze up and just allow you to drag him wherever you'd like.

-. If you kissed his cheek or any part of him for that matter, he would try and kind the growing blush on his cheeks with the collar of his jacket

-. But it's not to say he doesn't like it!

-. Hell no!

-. In fact, he likes when you show off your affection towards him.

-. He always felt comfort in your little touches, because he hasn't had anything so tender like that since his parents passed.

-. Oh, and he LOVES it when you gently caress his clemar horns!!!

-. And if you start playing with his long fingers, or kissing the knuckles of his calloused hands, looking into his eyes?

-. K.O.!

-. This man will be weak in the knees for the rest of the day with butterflies in his stomach!

-. Safe to say, he's a touch starved baby.

-. He also has no idea what he's doing when it comes to affection.

-. Like, he has no idea what he's doing the first couple of times you two would cuddle or anything like that.

-. He's so used to just doing friendly touches like handshakes and shoulder punches that he's a moron when it comes to the romantic stuff.

-. He's so nervous to make it awkward and shit.

[Spoilers ahead!!!]

-. Now, I've listed all of the bashfulness that is Leon Strohl da Haliaetus, and I know what you're thinking

-. "Didn't you say he can do both?"

-. Yeah, this man is POSSESSIVE!!!

-. I think Strohl being the stubborn, hard-headed guy he is...

-. The guy who literally wanted to square up with Louis when they were trying to act like his best buddies in front of ALLLLL OF HIS SUBORDINATES...

-. Oh, he would definitely get jealous easily if he caught someone looking at you funny

-. If he catches some random drunkard trying to flirt and get cozy with you? He puts his arm around you and pulls you in closer to him.

-. If someone is staring at you in a way he doesn't like? Expect two kinds of kisses depending on the situation :

-. Kisses on the back of your hands at formal events...

-. And super, steamy, passionate ones on the lips in front of people he REEEEAAALLY doesn't like.

-. One minute you are chatting with Hulkenberg about the food at this event, or Heismay is telling you an old story of his and then BAM!

-. Strohl turns you around and is kissing you, with tongue, one hand on your cheek, the other groping your ass.

-. He wants that person he hates so much to look at what he's doing to you in public and he LOVES it when you kiss back and hold him close.

-. Hulkenberg and Heismay be like : 😶

-. Then, to reassure Strohl everything is alright, you always cup his face with both of hands, get him to lean down to your height...

-. Or look up if you're tall!

-. And you nuzzle your nose against his

-. And this man's heart is about to explode

-. Speaking of comfort, Strohl likes to have you close to him if he starts having nightmares about his home town being burnt to the ground.

-. He just wants you to keep holding him close and running your fingers through his hair, whispering words of affirmation to him.

-. Strohl is a big fan of tiny kisses.

-. His favourite places are his nose, his neck and his cheek.

-. And when Strohl is away from you for a long time, this man will kick the door and rush at you and pick you up and spin you around and later just let you play with his horns while his head is on your lap.

[karamazovposting]

On Ivan and bipolar disorder (part four)

Since this is (finally) the last part of this essay and I've already previously mentioned what it will be about, I don't have an introduction to make, but I do think I need to give a couple disclaimers before getting right into this mess. First one: I have a lot of explaining to do because this gets medical again and I can't just assume you all know exactly what I'm talking about and/or to what extent; I hope I won't overexplain or sound condescending. On this same note, I forgot to open part one by explaining that bipolar disorder is a chronic mental illness that is treatable through lifelong medication and not necessarily lifelong therapy but not curable because to me that's a given, so sorry if you didn't have much knowledge on the topic and had to read my yapping with little or even no context. Second one: I will be using some words (such as "delusional") that are to be taken literally, in the medical sense. I'm not saying this because I think you are all stupid of course, but to highlight the seriousness of what I've been talking about these past months; it seems to me that lately medical terminology regarding mental health has been watered down a lot by Internet culture to the point of it losing its meaning, with memes about being "delulu 🤪" or reducing mania to dyeing your hair by yourself at 2 AM leading people to not take these things seriously. I don't mean to be a spoilsport or anything, I like and share those memes too but I've actually been (hypo)manic and delusional in the past so I guess I have the right to joke about it at least. Maybe it's not that serious but I want it to be serious at least here, which is also why I've never referred to episodes as "mood swings". I don't do that in real life either, even when talking to people who don't know much about bipolar disorder, because I've always found the term reductive and misleading: everyone has mood swings, it came free with being a human being. In my opinion it contributes to the misunderstanding of this disorder and the people who have it; no, we are not moody by default and no, we don't change our minds every five minutes or are happy one moment and then suddenly sad the next (seriously, who came up with these stereotypes and how?), but I digress.

This said, let's get down to business. I want to start with one detail that is either one of the most absurd coincidences in the entire history of literature or proof that Dostoevsky was somewhat somehow familiar with bipolar disorder and decided to integrate some things he witnessed in Ivan's character (I guess without knowing, as at the time there was very little understanding of it to the point it wasn't really considered an illness and was referred to as circular insanity and later as manic-depression, which are both cooler names than bipolar disorder but again I digress) because I swear I can't find any other explanation for it: the timeline of The Brothers Karamazov. It might seem like a very small detail, but as soon as I figured out the timeline I thought of fucking course. Now, we all know the timeline of this novel is a little confusing at first as there are almost no indicators of how much time has passed between Alyosha running from one house to another first and shit going down second, but in the first half of the novel we know it all starts in late August and honestly I didn't make anything of it, but then the timeline becomes clearer after Dmitri's arrest and we end up in early November for the trial and I mean, nothing particularly interesting or peculiar about a book covering the events of a (little over) two-month timespan, right? Technically yes, because it's not the amount of time that has passed that matters, but the time of the year: if it all had, for example, taken place from late June to early August or from late December to early February I wouldn't even be talking about it, because there's no seasonal change taking place in those months. August to November, however, is another story. I also find it interesting that it's the change from warm to cold weather, as it's the one that's the hardest for most people (for me personally it's the opposite, the shift from Winter to Spring is a nightmare, but I'm a rare case when it comes to that); I don't really know why, but the seasonal changes are always delicate periods for people with bipolar disorder as they can trigger episodes, I guess it's pretty much the same mechanism that occurs in seasonal depression. So, let me lay the timeline out for you: the Karamazovs reunite in late August, Ivan leaves a few days after, Fyodor is murdered shortly after, so probably in early September and Dmitri is arrested the same night, then Ivan comes back five days later, the trial takes place in early November the day after Pavel hangs himself, and Dmitri is sentenced five days before the story ends with Ilyusha's funeral. This timeline detail seriously drives me insane because all the other puzzle pieces I've been putting together for a while could be related to other disorders/conditions as well, such as schizophrenia (schizoaffective bipolar disorder is a thing too but I don't have it so I can't really say anything about it) and autism (autism and bipolar disorder have a lot in common), or even to just personality, but this? It's a little too oddly specific in my opinion, but I'll just keep assuming it's a coincidence for the sake of my own mental health.

Anyway, this means the story starts when a seasonal change is approaching, which is already a delicate time on its own, and Ivan has to put himself in an unpleasant situation that has a high chance of turning into a shitshow (and it does): going somewhere he wants to leave as soon as possible to discuss things he doesn't want to discuss surrounded by people he doesn't want to deal with. That's not a good start at all and it would be enough to put me, someone who has been medicated for seven years, on edge (and it has in the past); no wonder he's pissed off all the time. And it's only the start since, as we all know, the worst is yet to come. I love that the reader only gets bits and pieces of the build-up of Ivan's episode through the other characters' points of view and I particularly love how said build-up reaches its climax; it doesn't happen when Ivan hallucinates the devil (as it's mentioned he's seen him before and has also had other similar experiences in the past, I'll get into that later), but exactly a moment before that. But first, let's focus on the main build-up moments we see bits and pieces of before that. I was impressed by how realistically the whole thing was portrayed, especially considering that at the time almost everyting about this disorder was unknown; still to this day, in 2024, many people think bipolar disorder is a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation, with the person being "normal" one day and waking up "crazy" the next like some sort of magic happening overnight, but that's straight up not true, it doesn't happen. Bipolar disorder is way more rational than one would think (very fitting for Ivan, isn't it?) and at times you do have an awful amount of self-awareness but can do nothing with it, it's kind of like being stuck in the passenger seat of a car with a broken steering wheel and broken breaks that's speeding straight against a wall; you know what's happening but can do nothing but watch and hope the crash won't be that painful. And that's how I felt reading too, every time I saw those bits and pieces of Ivan's story I thought oh no it's happening. And Ivan knows it's happening too, as we see in Book Eleven.

I've focused on The brothers get acquainted, Rebellion and The Grand Inquisitor already, but I have to mention them again because as I've already explained they're such a pivotal point; before that we don't really know what Ivan's deal is, but as soon as we get acquainted (sorry, I had to) with him we start to notice that something's definitely up, and there is one seemingly small detail that I just can't get out of my head: when Ivan gets up and starts walking after his talk with his brother, Aleksej points out to himself that he's swaying a little. Considering it's implied that Ivan has a problem with alcohol (it runs in the family after all) in other occasions too, that's probably an indicator that Ivan had been drinking during his stay. Not only is there a strong link between bipolar disorder and substance abuse (how could there not be? Shit's tough and sometimes you have to self medicate, especially in the 1800s), but alcohol and drugs can trigger episodes or make them worse; Ivan is also once again dealing with everything alone and trust me, that's recipe for disaster. And of course after that the aforementioned metaphorical car does nothing but gain speed and Ivan increasingly becomes angrier, restless and frantic: he has trouble sleeping, he starts isolating himself even more, he talks faster, his thoughts start racing, his speech pattern becomes more and more incoherent and he can't stay still as he's mentioned walking back and forth for seemingly no reason in different occasions; all textbook symptoms. He visibly looks sick too and bipolar episodes are known to take a toll on your physical appearance (I looked like a walking corpse for years) as well as having physical symptoms manifest along the psychological/psychiatric ones, such as headaches caused by stress, which Ivan frequently has, because stress is a major trigger for bipolar disorder (and Ivan is undeniably quite stressed). Sleep also plays a huge role when it comes to bipolar disorder as it can quite literally determine your faith: the the very first sign to watch out for if you feel something might be wrong is a change in sleeping habits; if they start changing significantly it means something's definitely up and you need to intervene as soon as possible (I have prevented episodes from either spiraling or happening at all like that but it takes years of practice). Ivan's sleep schedule, if we can even call it that, during his episode reminds me of my own during an insane (no pun intended?) mixed episode I've had and it makes sense since after every manic episode comes a "crash", and during mixed episodes you can crash back and forth for days; it happened to me. But what is a manic crash? It can be summed up with a simple phrase: what comes up must come down. It's like throwing a ball in the air, it reaches its peak up there and after that it's all downhill until it crashes down on the ground and the higher it goes, harder the crash: if you stay up all night while manic, you'll sleep all day while depressed, the more euphoric you are, the more dysphoric you'll be; so it makes sense for Ivan to sleep more and more as he "comes down". As for the fever, stress can do that. Brain fever is nothing but a 19th century literature thing because it's not a real diagnosis and at the time severe emotional and psychological upset was classified as either that or hysteria, which isn't a real diagnosis either.

Another puzzle piece that fits way too well is that little mention of him tidying his room himself despite having someone to do it for him; I know it's probably thrown in there to highlight his self-isolating independence, but cleaning and tidying are very common (to the point it's almost a cliché) activities to do when you're having a (hypo)manic or mixed episode because they help getting rid of all the extra energy and give you a sense of control over your life; for me it's almost compulsive (compulsions and obsessive thoughts are common in bipolar disorder because bipolar disorder is like three different conditions in a trenchcoat), I've found myself obsessively cleaning my bathroom every day for months and fighting the compulsion to do the dishes even when it wasn't necessary. It's mentioned that Ivan feels the increasing loss of control and is ashamed of it, which brings us to the very important topics, when it comes to him, of self-awareness and control.

I already mentioned it in part one but I want to say it again: control is crucial when it comes to bipolar disorder; something out of your control happening in your life or not having enough control over your symptoms and emotions is enough to send you down (or up) a dangerous path (sounds familiar?). It takes years of treatment to be able to deal with the unexpected and to let go of this control freak attitude, but Ivan is riding this rollercoaster with no seat belt so here we are. I think this reflects best in his attitude when visiting Pavel in the hospital after Dmitri's arrest, when Ivan says he came back from Moscow as soon as possible to fix the mess they all made in his absence. He's particularly keen on letting Pavel know he has no intention of playing games and it's clear he has a no bullshit allowed policy when it comes to his family, which checks out with what I went over in part three: Ivan's presence in the Karamazov household means quiet and order. Ivan definitely has a strong personality and to me it feels like that kind of strong personality one has to develop to stay afloat, and considering Ivan is not comfortable with showing "weakness"...well; I'll get to that later. I don't know if it's a middle child thing because I'm not a middle child but I'm the only diagnosed and medicated person in a family that feels more like an emotional minefield and let me tell you, I've been running that shit like it's the Navy for years and I'm pretty sure I'm the only case of a youngest son with eldest daughter syndrome in human history and yes, it's a bipolar thing. The need for control is so strong that it extends to your surroundings and therefore the people around you; I don't know how to explain it because it's not a manipulation thing, it's an I can't deal with my own emotions so having someone express theirs in an extreme way makes me uncomfortable and I also need a stable environment to not lose my mind so I need to de-escalate any situation that might trigger me thing; it's cleaning up after other people's mess for your own sake. And maybe a little savior complex, at least in my case. Anyway, if Ivan keeps his family stable he keeps himself stable as well, so he has to take matters into his own hands even when it's too late. Damage control is a very important skill if you have bipolar disorder.

I've already been over Ivan's visceral anger so I won't go over it again, but I want to spend a few words for that one part where he punches Pavel: been there done that, and normally I'm not even a violent person. It was a pretty similar situation too: someone had been tormenting me for months while I already wasn't doing good at all, took it too far one day and I just snapped; I didn't even mean to hit that person but it's not something you can gain control over when it gets to that point, so I get where Ivan was coming from and I'll defend him until the day I die.

Since I'm going in chronological order, as you might have already noticed, this means I've finally reached the fun part. Brace yourselves, this is going to be long. I don't have much to say about the whole devil ordeal that hasn't already been said, after all it's the most blatant manifestation of Ivan's mental health status, and I think it's more important to focus on what's around the hallucination rather than the hallucination itself. The first and most important thing I noticed is that Ivan is not scared, and it makes sense for him to not be because the narrator says that situation feels familiar to Ivan, making this the second time it's mentioned by the narrator that Ivan has a past history of both depressive and dysphoric manic (usually referred to as mixed) episodes, which alone qualifies for a formal bipolar disorder diagnosis; now that I think about it I could have just said this instead of making four posts about it, but where's the fun in that? Also I don't have enough information to armchair diagnose this 19th century fictional character with a specific type of bipolar disorder, so I laid out all the relevant information for you to interpet it however you want, if you're familiar with this stuff. I think he could be either bipolar I or bipolar II as there aren't many differences between those two types. For reference, I'm bipolar II (electric boogalo), which is usually mainly depressive and has less intense "ups" (mania when it's bipolar I and hypomania when it's bipolar II, but mania and manic are often used as umbrella terms and I've used them as such in this). Ivan's episode seems more mixed (having both manic and depressive symptoms at the same time, I should've explained it earlier, sorry) than purely manic and mixed episodes are more likely to happen in bipolar II and/or to those who start having symptoms in adolescence regardless of type and I think that checks out (go to part two for that). However, hallucinating a whole person and having conversations with them is a pretty big deal and my own hallucinations are nothing like that, usually hearing noises such as knocks on my door or seeing shadows or bugs at the corner of my eye and things looking slightly off and changing in shape and size; nothing big that I can interact with and I can easily ignore that the rare times it happens. Wikipedia says that any kind of hallucination classifies as mania, but my psychiatrists obviously know I've hallucinated in the past and still haven't changed my diagnosis so don't trust Wikipedia I guess, probably because my hypomanic episodes have never significantly impaired my ability to function (like they haven't significantly impaired Ivan's; trust me, he could be doing much worse). There is a lot of nuance that Internet articles lack in my opinion.

Anyway, let's go back to focusing on how Ivan feels: he's not scared, but he is exhausted and desperate. And it's heartbreaking. Not the hardest part of The Brothers Karamazov for me to read, not at all actually, but way too familiar. Ivan, who has a strong personality and a no bullshit allowed policy, who usually speaks in a firm voice and who refused to get help even if he knew his mental state was getting worse, breaks down (in private, of course) and begs and pleads; please leave me alone, shut up. He goes back and forth between desperation and rage (very mixed episode of him) and what struck me the most is how harsh his words are: almost every time the devil says something, Ivan replies with an insult or even more in a row. Yes, it's not that atypical of him considering how he talks and refers to Pavel or Dmitri, but it's, again, heartbreaking because he's never acted like that with them (or even with his father) and he knows the devil is actually himself. He's reserving his worst words, his worst attitude, his most burning and consuming rage and hatred, for himself. And he knows that. Worst thing of all to me is that at some point he covers his ears to not hear the devil, his own thoughts, and I've done that. Sometimes those thoughts are so loud that they seem to come from an outside source and covering your ears comes naturally. It obviously doesn't work. I have many other thoughts about Ivan's devil but they don't have much to do with bipolar disorder so maybe I'll write another post in the future if I feel like it. Also honorable mention to the thrown glass because apparently I've done something similar once even if I genuinely don't remember it at all (bipolar disorder also causes memory loss so you barely rememeber your episodes, it's kind of like trying to recall the events of a party you got drunk at, we're not getting into that though).

Maybe I see Ivan's story and character as less dark and tragic than the average reader does, because to most people constantly walking up and down restless with racing, out of control, incoherent thoughts and experiencing delusions and hallucinations is understandably a terrifying experience, but for me up until a couple years ago that was just a random Tuesday. I mean it is terrifying but you get used to it, after a while you understand the twisted logic bipolar disorder operates under and it becomes less scary (still is at times) and more annoying, you try to keep up with your meds and manage your symptoms as best as you can and just go on with your life while still trying to fight it when/if you can (it's less depressing than how I'm describing it I swear, I really don't know how to convey that feeling). I don't see myself as a walking tragedy or as doomed (anymore), mental illness is just mundane to me and so is to Ivan; I think Dostoevsky did a marvelous job at portraying just how uneventful it can feel from the inside and we see it the contrast between what's happening to Ivan and his reaction to it and also between the other characters' perception of him and his own perception of himself. There is nothing other than concern coming from his loved ones, no judgment, they acknowledge that he's unwell and they usually refer to him as such; Ivan on the other hand refuses to and therefore refuses to take care of himself or, God forbid, let others take care of him. He knew an episode was approaching, but as long as he was physically okay his mental state didn't matter to him. Ivan's biggest flaw is that he's independent and self-absorbed (for lack of a better word) in an unhealthy, negative, bipolar way and it only fuels his anger: the only valid judgment and opinion of himself is his own and he doesn't have a positive view of himself. The devil tells him the people at the trial will pity him and Ivan snaps; he doesn't want to be pitied, he doesn't want to be seen as "weak" because he has internalized refusal for "weakness" and "cowardice" (he asks himself if he's a coward in different occasions, sometimes straight up calling himself that). How could he not have internalized it? He was neglected growing up and as an adult he always seems to be held at an impossible standard due to the way his personality was forced to develop, from being expected to keep the peace between the Karamazovs to even after his father is brutally murdered; at the trial Ippolit Kirillovič says that if Ivan was so sure of his brother's innocence, why didn't go to the police after Smerdyakov's confession? To them that must mean said confession never happened and that Dmitri is the murderer, but in reality Ivan (poor thing) didn't go because he was delusional and thought the two of them were going to confess together the following day. People expect him to be able to think straight and fix his family's mess even when he can't. And still, he doesn't break down even at the trial: he's firm even in his delirium, he never falters, his voice never breaks, he's determined and strong like he's expected to be, even if the others can't see it. He does the right thing for himself, not caring about anyone else's opinion, and in a sense he's some sort of modern Cassandra, cursed to tell the truth without being believed by those who can save his family (and in some versions of Cassandra's myth she goes mad due to witnessing the fall of Troy). He never cries; there's only one mention of him crying in the whole novel and contrary to other characters crying, it's not something we are told by the narrator himself but it's thrown in a conversation between Katya and Alyosha by Katya. Ivan only cried in private, in front of the person who insisted to take care of him. This talk about his relationship with "weakness" and the (partial) act he puts up definitely makes more sense in relation to part three and I hope you get what I'm trying to say.

Speaking of the trial, I was struck by the attention brought to the Karamazovs', as a whole, ability to see and navigate through two opposite abysses. Dostoevsky, what the hell? Does it mean what I think it means? I don't know, but it sure is a familiar image to me and Dmitri does seem to walk the fine line between regular human behaviour and diagnostic criteria, but I don't have many thoughts about that, it could be anything really, mostly because none of them are actual real people. My own interpretation of those characters is more "literal" even if I know they're just tools to convey certain topics and messages and if you want to get more symbolic with them please do, I'd love to read it. Honestly I like the idea of a character with a heavily emotion-driven arc such as Ivan having a disorder that fucks with one's emotions so much; also seeing someone behaving like me being treated with tact and a particular kind of sensitivity by the other characters and the author himself is so special to me (at least considering the historical context, I mean they could've just thrown him in a madhouse and called it a day but nobody even thought about doing that) because uhm...I didn't receive such kindness growing up.

There are many characters from other books, movies, and shows that I love and relate to but have never seen as bipolar coded in any way, they were just relatable, but Ivan hits different as he's the first character I've seen that is so unapologetically bipolar. I've watched shows and movies with characters that canonically have bipolar disorder and even they can't hold a candle to him (let bipolar people or at least people who are familiar with them write bipolar characters I'm begging you). There isn't a single character from The Brothers Karamazov that I hate or even dislike (yes, not even Fyodor, he's not a good person but he's a good character) and all the brothers are special to me, but I just can't help having this soft spot for Ivan, I want to give him a hug and my meds.

I'm not really going to talk about Ivan's ending because while I do obviously have things to say, they don't belong here. I just want to say that him having an open and uncertain ending (I love open and uncertain endings) even more than the other characters do is very fitting.

And that's a wrap! Thanks for sticking with me and I hope this was an interesting and maybe even educational (there's a lot of ignorance regarding bipolar disorder and I try to raise awareness every time I can) read, but most of all I hope I managed to make sense. I like this part more than part three because I wrote it after surviving the seasonal change while during part three I was in the trenches but oh well, the past is past. No notes on part one and two, those are good I guess. Also I've said variations of been there done that a ridiculous amount of times in this whole thing but my Twitter display name is Ivan Karamazov kinnie for a reason. And I won't apologize for the shitty jokes by the way.

See you soon* with other literary analysis!

*= don't rely on my words too much, it could be tomorrow like it could be in ten years

[rocketbirdie]

smile for the fans!

[uncanny-tranny]

So often, twink death is framed as a bad thing. However, the "twink death" for trans men* is frankly one of the most healing things you will bear witness to (pun intended).

[angel---eater]

I think there's a fine balance between depicting the actual lived reality/experiences for a lot of folks and just making a reductive, racist caricature, and it ALL has to do with intent. I don't think the idea of Gamzee being interpreted as Black detracts from his character, but if Hussie went in intending to do that, I would've wanted that handled with more care. Like, lots more care. The fandom badges Hussie as horrifically racist, like they go extremely hard on that sometimes. And yes, there is absolutely racism in the text (most notibly in the earlier parts), but I genuinely have a hard time believing they're like, horrifically, violently, inmoveably racist, especially because we have a literal record of them becoming a more mindful person, which is Homestuck itself. I think they're just sloppy about it, which isn't actually a crime if their heart was in the right place. This is definitely NOT to say that they should keep being sloppy about it, but sheltered white people gotta start somewhere.

Like, a lotta fans who refuse to budge on this bring up the asian schoolgirl joke. Which, yes, is in fact obviously racist, but the tone and the context and Hussie's SI character's actions suggest that they're punching down on people who are this kind of racist. I thought that was obvious, but apparently not to portions of the fandom. She used their own language to highlight how ridiculous their shit is. She's making fun of them. But that's a bit of a side tangent to loop back around to say that I genuinely just don't think Hussie thought about the trolls in terms of human ethnicity much at all, besides Meenah, who is canonically inspired by Nicki Minaj. Bit of a can of worms there, but Meenah is canonically, inarguably Black to me and many others because of this. If she wasn't intended to be Black, if she was intended to be a white girl surface-level coopting Black culture and style for the Aesthetic[tm], she'd be far, FAR more racist if that was all that was happening with her. But re Hussie not thinking of troll ethnicity- that in turn, because this is how all/most people's imagination's work, does lead me to believe that Hussie's idea of a 'blank slate' character is in fact white, simply because Hussie is white. It all loops in on itself. This incidental coding both clashes with a lotta characters and complements some, like Karkat vs Gamzee.

But you're absolutely 10000% correct about how otherwise abusive white boys get a pass for being ''chill'', and Gamzee represents this PERFECTLY. He's a ''chill'' white boy living off of his abscent daddy's money who's cosplaying as his working class friends, surrounded by dogmatic religion that he tries to rope everyone into. I mean come on now, that is so rich white person. And as you said, that translates really well to Mormon and Fundamentalist assholes. I also grew up in an intenesely religious, EXTREMELY white, backwater little retirement town in the middle of nowhere and holy fuck, the shit that the boys could get away with. They were like rabid animals. If they were in a city, at least one of them would've showed up on the news and I wish I was being hyperbolic about that. This read of Gamzee also matches up nicely to how his friends wave him off and kind of infantalize him, because he's just a chill little idiot, right? He can't actually do any harm. ''Who could've seen his murder spree coming, he was such a nice young man'', y'know?

tbh the whitest trolls to me are the zahhaks and the makaras bc of what kind of internet-people equius and gamzee represented at the time. juggalo culture is predominantly white working class folks or white folks on the poverty line, and in the US bc of segregation, that meant a lot more mixing of cultures than you see in middle class and up areas. its the same with canada and the UK. so you see a lotta black influences in there bc of how US class structures have been constructed. its a melting pot made by and for the working class. a lotta irl juggalo stuff is pretty chill from what ive heard? as a movement they want to demolish class heirarchy and build community. ofc theres room for abuse in the lifestyle though, thats not unique to juggalos. gamzee as a rich white boy living a juggalo lifestyle but not getting it right and actually reinforcing what irl juggalos fight against makes perfect sense for his character

equius on the other hand is like belligerently Hegemonic White Cis Dude coded to me. he represents young white cis boys on the precipice of falling into the manosphere pipeline, imo. specifically bc theyre lonely and insecure. his spot on the hemospectrum is perfect for breeding that shit. he's been told his whole life that hes better than most of the ppl he knows. hes higher up caste wise than most of his friends, particularly nepeta, but still feels inferieor to his friends who ARE higher up than he is, which is what sparks that hyperspecfic brand of insecurity in white cis boys. their only real problem is that someone else whos even more priviledged is looking down on them. and gamzee also being white just kind of compounds that bc of the sense of 'competition' between white guys or whatever, to be The Whitest Squarest* Guy who is On Top (haha) Of All Other White Square Guys

everyone else? nah. its so obviously not whats happening. which really just highlights the fact that large swaths of fandom still believe that white is default in terms of character design. and its insane to me how ppl can say w/ their whole chest that the hemospectrum has nothing to do w/ race, its just abt class, when racism and class are intrinsically tied. like theyre horrible twin sisters, man, you cant rlly have one without the other. enforced class models in society dont work unless theres someone up top deeping someone else Deserving of having less bc theyre not the exact same type of person as them

*using the term Square here not to denote any kind of 80s movie nerddom but to try to describe normies who are toxic abt it and think everyone else should be like them