#this is going to be a part of a larger set but i also wanted to post it seperately

[docholligay]

I wish this movie had come out when I was a kid, because it really would have spoken to me. I think that's why I like it so much as an adult, too!

I was an odd kid in a large extended family that was tight-knit and I had aspirations far beyond my station. I wanted to learn to cook gourmet food, I wanted to go to London and Paris and eat meals with white tablecloths and fine manners, I wanted to see art and opera. All of these things were, to my larger family, ridiculous. It wasn't that they didn't love me, but, I think, in a sense they were afraid i was going to leave them behind. I wanted a world that was completely different from the sort of dirt-scratch prairie life I was born into--which I also love!

But when In was a kid, I didn't realize that it doesn't have to be one way or the other. They, I think, didn't either, and so it was silly, and stupid, and funny, that I wanted to do all these things. Didn't I know where I was from? I was never going to sit in the Ritz, and so it was stupid to try and I should give up now and I look kinda stupid with that teacup.

They were wrong! I've done everything I said I was going to do, and I became the person I wished I was, and I can still skin a deer and load a rifle to top it all off. But this idea of wanting more, on an artistic level, wanting things that were demeaned as snobby, wasn't something I felt a got a lot of. I guess Belle? From Beauty and the Beast? But she wasn't interested in growing her skills or anything in an artistic sense, she just liked to read. So I didn't take to her really at all. Ariel, I guess, but I didn't want a dude. I wanted to TRY things.

Anyway, all that to say I love this statement. A very important part of cooking is the continual fucking up. I do it all the time! I live to fuck up! That I was born to a family where I was literally the first person on BOTH sides to go to college and the first one on both sides to set foot in a non-Canadian country since my family moved here, doesn't matter! All it takes is work and a willingness to be wrong! A willingness to eat a really bad meal sometimes! A willingness to cry in the corner of a French train station because you don't know how trains work and the guy in the information booth was really mean to you about your shitty French!

Imagine what you could do if you stopped being afraid. Imagine what you could be.

I would love to go back to that weird eight year old and go, "They're wrong. But they're wrong because they're afraid you don't think they're enough. It's complicated and you'll get it more when you're older, also, you are going to have tea at the fucking Ritz someday. You're going to drink wine at a cafe in Paris. Don't worry about it."

[cbk1000]

Do you guys want some hobby drama?

So, there's a game called Kingdom Come: Deliverance set in early 15th century Bohemia which is a 1st person RPG following Henry, the humble son of the local blacksmith, who Gets In the Shit of Local Warfare and Politics after his village is razed by an invading army. This game was developed by a small, independent company that prided itself on historical accuracy, and came out in 2018. It was a fairly niche game, and apparently released with quite a lot of jank (I played it years after it came out, after patches had tightened everything up, so I wasn't privy to this).

It was also the subject of a small controversy; namely, a gaming journalist called it out for not being diverse enough because there were only white people as far as the eye could see, and the developer said that was because of Historical Accuracy, because at that period of time, in that setting, there wouldn't have been any black people. Admittedly, while I have read fairly extensively on the Middle Ages, my focus is on medieval Britain, so I'm not going to argue this particular point as I really know pretty much nothing about medieval Bohemia; I'll just sideeye it the way I do any time someone claims they only feature white people in their story because of historical accuracy. (In fairness I will note this does take place in small villages, not urban centers, and that even the modern day region is fairly ethnically homogenous. On the other hand, I did just recently read an article on some recent archeological evidence that there actually might have been a larger population of African immigrants/traders in the area than was originally thought to be the case, but I do not know if this discovery was before or after the developer's assertion, and again, this was probably in larger urban areas. But I digress. Also, if you are an expert on 15th century Bohemia, please feel free to nerd out with Fun Facts on this post.)

Now, for the record, I only got into this game last year, long after it came out, and long after the controversy, so I did not experience it in real time, and I am not part of any gaming communities. I found this out thanks to the drama surrounding the sequel which just released. What I'm reporting here is things I've gleaned from people talking about the old controversy in relation to the new controversy, some screen shots of the OG Debacle, etc. This is not coming from an insider, just someone who stumbled in while everything was on fire, pulled out a bucket of popcorn, and asked the guy in the lawn chair with snacks how it all started.

The developer was, according to some claims I've seen, part of Gamer Gate, which I'll admit I've seen referenced many times, but I still do not actually really know what that is. But his role in this was as someone who became a hero to the 'anti-woke' crowd, because his game was about a white Christian man, and he pulled the ol' 'but it's just historically accurate to exclude black people' for these chuds who always claim to have non-racist, non-homophobic, and non-misogynistic reasons for only wanting straight white men in their video games. (Because, as we all know, women, gays, and black people were only just invented in 2010, therefore 'historical accuracy' is a perfectly reasonable reason for exclusion.) There’s a picture of him wearing a Based shirt, and he apparently made fun of people for wanting more inclusion in the game, because he refuses to sacrifice historical accuracy for the sake of pandering. White men once more felt Seen. Blessings upon his house, etc.

Cue the sequel, which has been quietly underway for years, and was just announced late last year, and dropped February 4th.

Some leaks start to emerge that trouble the anti-wokers. There's a black person in the game?? And Saudi Arabia banned it for an UNSKIPPABLE GAY SEX SCENE??? Many pearls were clutched, and much gnashing of teeth.

Developer confirms, yes, there is a black character. There is actual historical reasoning for his role, and part of this game takes place in a city that would have been more ethnically diverse; he's not just wedging the character in to appease those goddamn SJWs, no sir. Also, there are absolutely no unskippable cut scenes period. You can now pursue a male love interest for Henry, as it's an RPG and this gives more player choice. But all romances are optional, including the gay one.

People are wailing. The curtains are on fire. They're angrily taking sledgehammers to the pedestal they put this man on. He is a TRAITOR to the Anti Woke Cause. He put a single, solitary black man in his game and gave people the completely avoidable option to be gay!!! He caved to the Woke Mob!!! Who can they trust now in these times of turnoil???

Then speculation starts that one of the gay options is a character from the first game that becomes close to Henry, Hans Capon. Hans is a freewheeling, womanizing noble who likes to have a good time, and who, frankly, was always a bit suspicious to me because one of the side quests involves him inviting Henry to hang out with him by taking a bath with him in the same tub, but I figured the gay romance option was going to be some rando NPC you encounter once on a side quest and can have some fade-to-black porking with.

The game drops. Review embargos are lifted. IGN publishes a guide on how to romance Hans Capon, who it turns out IS the gay romance option! My ship is sailing!!

This really caused a meltdown. Hans is a HETEROSEXUAL STRAIGHT MAN WHO BANGS WOMEN WITH BIG BREASTS HOW COULD KINGDOM COME DO THIS TO THEM. People handled it so well, guys:

A boycott was in order. Go woke, go broke!!!

Oops, the game made back its entire budget on the first day of sales.

Now it's time for Old Faithful: accusing liberals (i.e. people who think not everything has to be only for straight white men) and The Gays of pedophilia.

It's decided that the gay sex scene is a depiction of pedophilia and should get the game banned because the real life historical person on which Hans Capon is based was 15 at the time of the game. Now, note that they've already taken some liberties with the timeline, as one of the villains died before the game takes place. Also note: there is no actual canonical mention of Hans' age in game, but his voice actor who did the motion capture and on whose physique the character is based is a 31-year-old fully adult man, he and Henry are portrayed as contemporaries close in age (I'd guess early 20s based on the way they act in the game), and if the game is trying to pass off this 31-year-old man as a minor child, I have a bridge to sell cheaply too. Also note: none of these people screaming about pedophilia had a problem with Hans whoreing it up with women in the first game.

Here are a few screenshots of the character they are trying to claim is a tiny infant child being mounted by a woke-infested pedophile puppeteered by Captain Super Pedophile, their former hero:

Maybe I'm just looking at this through rose-colored liberal pedophile glasses, but that looks like a grown adult to me.

[urautismdiagnosis]

Jdjsbdbd thank you alao I wanna clarify that I dont mean that catscan ONLY eat meat, but rather that if they don't have meat in their diet they WILL die because not only is their required protein intake MUCH higher than other animals but they alao need certain minerals that u can't get from plant based sources

Also this isn't me being smart, its just me being hyperfixated while having access to Google for research i don't even know my times tables bro💀🙏 I've made so much octonauts lore,yall I made octonauts oppression, colonialization and racism (specism) 🥲 idk how much of it is projection and how much of it is hyperfixation but likes its been living rent free and then some in my brain

Like the specism and then like hate based on countries are totally seperate societal issues and can impact eachother based on the location too

I'm planning on drawing some like charts and visuals for a larger post about it, cuz while its not a thing that comes up often in my au its definitely sprinkled thru and a part of their lives just like irl racism is

🧍‍♀️ I'm sorry guys I dont know why my first instinct was to make this but honestly this just happens for like every hyperfication I've ever had

Like I've got historical movements, stereotypes, micro aggression, and how there's different types of specism and how they came to be.... :| or even how they can differ by areas

So uh, if u or anyone wants to ask me about them or ask about specific species and etc uhhhhh go ahead ig? I just really really like analogies of real world issues through analogies in fantastical/unrealistic settings and how those fantastical factors would actually affect the realistic factors 🥲🥺

Also most animals are carnivorous cuz its be so much harder to survive otherwise

This includes hoived animals too btw,yall ever see a deer eating a living bird? Cuz I have,also they commonly chew on bones and etc for the minerals but thats just a fun fact

Pokes u

Do you have Barnacles Headcanons to share with his wife (aka me)

YES also sorry for the late response lol uhhh this is mostly just stuff from my au lol and its got different world building than the show does

Ok first off some context, in my au the reasons for PEOPLE species to have different traits is more based on environmental factors and conflicts between other groups of people. 👌

There are definitely some wild species that aren't even intelligent enough to have nearly any sapience (in simple terms its self awareness) that would probably end up being food or wtv, but like going based off of irl stuff polar bears mostly need high fat diets and unless there are a TON extra of high fat food fish thatd make the arctic pretty hard to survive

Unless ofc 👀 well they are PEOPLE people so u can convince me they'd have somehow domesticated either musk or (hoofed arctic animal) or bred some other kind of milk producing animal as a source of food

All I'm saying is that he could and would and has eaten an entire wheel of cheese before

And he absolutely has a secret stash of high fat snacks because I think he might be a liiiiittttle bit self conscious about it

Because he realized that arctic animals and non arctic animals have HUGE differences in social norms and apparently most animals don't have at least 3 inches of fat minimum on their entire body???

And its not cuz hes embarrassed of the fat, its normal and healthy, he just doesn't want to go from Trustworthy and Reliable Captain of thr Octonauts to "oh my god i need like an entire cheesecake rn to feel normal" in front of everyone cuz like 😭 he is a bit of a comfort eater. Like ah yes our strong and level headed captain is eating an entire box of oreos at 2 am because he misses his sister again 😭

Ofc the others do find out but there isn't any judgement if anything kwazii would probably join him, bro has a history of having weird food habits (hm wonder why... surely nothing related to being shipwrecked on an island and having to survive) and its nice

He does like, have THE best snacks tho and he might be hoarding them just a tiny bit-

he also can feel a bit worried about coming off as too large or intimidating so thats why he's always got his hands on his hips- and his head lowered down a bit

its not that he seems like physically scary but a larger presence can be intimidating for a lot of people

Teeth and claws aren't usually seen as intimidating in most scenarios in this world because its so common and is just like a feature of the species the same way hearing or smell can be btw

so yeah someone threatening to scratch ya can be scary but so can someone being able to find you because they can hear ur heartbeat 💀🙏

Back to the main point, like all the other octonauts aren't even like medium sized animals (like wolves and whatever), there ALL very small species. So hes like way in the upper range, the highest and tallest possible species while everyone else are all smaller ones specifically

So if barnacles is Actually Mad (💀 the scenario to make him genuinely mad has to be BAD) then he will go to his FULL HEIGHT

Cuz irl polar bears got very tall strong necks and etc so I think him standing at Full Serious Height would be very startling

Also about polar bears sense of smell!

Circling back to the adaptations being related to survival pressures and social ones

Polar bears in this world, use their sense of smell for something very important in the arctic: navigation, above and below water

It prevents things like getting lost in the wintery white world, which is so so easy for others. It can help find others than might be lost, and it can tell u if they r injured or not and I think thats precious

there is one problem tho, while their sense of smell is VERY strong, stronger than bloodhounds and etc, its made for being able to detect things very far away in freezing temperatures... so they're extremely sensitive

Which wouldn't be that much of an issue if barnacles wasn't in all sorts of more tropical environments...

In thr artic all u can smell is other people, animals, and which was is home

But if he's not in the octopod or under the water,but somewhere where there's THOUSANDS of insects,hundreds of pollinating plants, and tons and tons of different creatures all at once-

I think thats be overwhelming and he's probably be allergic to sooooooo many plants poor guy 🥺

Also even tho he like trims and thins out his thick coat, and even has a little cooling pack vest sort of thing under his uniform he can still overheat pretty easily

Cuz yk, the several inches of brown fat or blubber? Someone might say "hey just adjust ur diet and whatever to lose it" but that would be VERY UNHEALTHY for him... mess with the balance of his bodys systems yk? so its really not an option;^;

So yeah he still tends to overheat and thats why having his room canoncially set to actual arctic temperatures every night helps him sleep better and feel better

Usually alot of octonauts missions happen under water or in gups or maybe they'll spend some time on an island and it'll be hot

But with extended time spent in warmer climates he has to take alot more breaks and it can be alot harder for him

Also I think that he had a period in his early 20s college years where he was like kinda lowkey depressed because he was learning more about global warming and capitalism

, it didn't last too long fortunately because yk he met professor inkling who was already developing his idea for the octonauts

and they actuslly became really good friends and it really came together as a realistic thing when tweak got wind of em

On a more depressing note global warming for polar bears in a world where they're actual people with a unique culture and heritage means some totally different stuff

Like its not even the fact they can't even engage in their own cultural traditions (cough traveling in that one arctic global warming special where they were all exhausted cuz all the melted sea ice cough)

Its also the loss of genuine homes (in my au they're kinda like ice hobbit houses 🥰since polar bears irl will dig out shallow resting spots or mama bears will have dens with a toasty 30 degrees farenheit), architectural collapses, traditional jobs that can only be done in the arctic being lost, and being forced into more southern grounds because more and more just can't rely living there anymore

And I think that'd be super depressing to see in real time, its a cultural death

Heck even irl there's so many grizzlies going north and polar going south that they've actually started to mix and start having hybrids (grolar bears). And the thing is they're so genetically compatible that their species can actually develope into their own separate identity that might totally replace most if not all polar bears sense they're just more adapt to the changing climate and have more range,with benefits from both species

And while that sounds great on paper and makes sense and is obviously fine for them to have easier lives, I think in thr context of this world it would leave barnacles with some conflicted feelings

Because the thing is there used to be concerns about polar bears having to leave their homes to live is societies and communities that just... that their jobs wouldn't fit to. That would be physically harder for them to be healthy in. That they'd have to give up so many thousands of years of traditions thatd be impossible to carry over in.

Idk its late and I've got one braincell and idk if this makes sense and im sorry if it got depressing 😭

But yeah, so there's more and more of these younger people grolar bears, that just... will never have that full connection to their heritage. And idk I think its sad and maybe I'm projecting

Also I think that if barnacles was ever sad he'd just cope by playing the accordian lol,like the one meme of the girl playing "its a mental breakdown ✨" on a kazoo 😭

Let's end this on a happier note tho, circling back to barnacles being several feet taller than his entire crew, like-

We all already know this guy emotionally adopts every living being in sight

And well, his ENTIRE CREW literally, and I mean very literally and physically, looks up to him-

Like they all gotta turn their heads up and loon at him with big hopeful eyes ready for whatever he has to say

And im gonna be honest his composure is alot stronger than mine cux I would CRY because of how adorable that is

Like he knows its probably so unprofessional and might be seen as condescending BUT DAMN IT HE CANT HELP THR CUTENESS AGRESSION!!! HE WANTS TO SQUISH THEIR TINY FACES!!!

so sometimes hell have a very Serious and Leadership-like Captain Conversation, and then thr SECOND hes out of their sight (and hopefully hearing) HE JUST HAS TO STOP HIMSELF FROM JUST CRYING-

Cuz the second hes out of sight he will LOSE ALL COMPOSURE and need a minute because he loves them so much AND THEYRE SO FCKING SMALL-

Its kinda funny tho cuz ur captain barnacles is a pretty tiny guy, wonder howd that work for u XD

Anyways gn or whatever time it is for u 🐻‍❄️✨✨✨

Also he and Bianca call at least every week for an hour and frequently send eachother updates about what they're up to

He could talk to her about anything and she's good at talking sense into him

He makes sure that natquick gets plenty of social interaction too, that man is like his father figure

(Kinda sad but I headcanon barnacles dad died when he was really young cuz of an accident where ice collapsed, probably did not help how he felt when he got stuck in an icy hole as a kid 💀🙏)

ALSO

Barnacles looking up at u vvv

Barnaclea being his lil theater kid self^

Wait~ they don't love you ✨like I love you ✨🥰

Barnacles half awake at a late night mission when everything is done and they're just driving the gup a back home

Barnacles and Bianca on a video call

[lucyllawless]

AGATHARIO AU: Rio knows exactly how to turn Agatha on.

[icewindandboringhorror]

A little costume with eyebrow whiskers again.. making their return lol..

[wifeguycyclonus]

Orion Pax is naive, he’s just not naive the way ppl seem to think he is

[pyrriax]

HI TUMBLR late footnote posting before i go to bed (i took a nap today........ ate up most of my time)

not a lot to talk about with footnotes today since i was Busy and my brain wasnt working pfndkmlfd i blame seven hours of modded oneblock

[iraprince]

gonna show u guys a little opalescent highlight hack i threw together today

rainbow gradient above your main figure (i usually have all my main figure folders/layers in one big folder, so i can clip gradient maps + adjustments to it!). liquify tool to push the colors around a bit. STAY WITH ME I KNOW IT LOOKS STUPID RN I'M GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS

THEN: set it to add/glow (or the equivalent in ur drawing program), lower the opacity a bit, and apply a layer mask. then u can edit the mask with whatever tools you like to create rainbow highlights!!

in this case i'm mostly using the lasso fill tool to chip out little facets, but i've also done some soft airbrushing to bring in larger rainbow swirls in some areas. it's pretty subtle here, but you can see it better when i remove the gradient map that's above everything, since below i'm working in greyscale:

more granular rambling beneath the cut!

u could also just do this with a brush that has color jitter, but what i like about using layer masks for highlight/shading layers is how simple and reversible it makes everything. i can use whatever brushes i want, and erasing/redoing things is super low stakes, which is great when i often approach this stuff with a super trial-and-error approach.

example: have u ever thrown a gradient w multiple colors over an entire piece, set it to multiply etc, and then tried to erase it away to carve out shadows/highlights? it's super frustrating, bc it looks really good, but if u erase something and then change ur mind later, u basically would have to like. recreate the gradient in the area u want to cover up again. that's how i used to do things before figuring out layer masks!! but masking basically creates a version of this with INFINITE undo bc u can erase/re-place the base layer whenever u want.

anyway, back to rambling about this specific method:

i actually have TWO of these layers on this piece (one with the liquified swirls shown above, and another that's just a normal concentric circle gradient with much broader stripes) so i can vary the highlights easily as needed.

since i've basically hidden the rainbow pattern from myself, the colors in each brushstroke i make will kind of be a surprise, which isn't always great -- but easily fixable! for example, if i carve out a highlight and it turns out the rainbow pattern in that area is way too stripey, i can just switch from editing the mask to editing the main layer and blur that spot a bit.

also, this isn't a full explanation of the overall transparency effect in these screencaps! there's other layer stuff happening below the rainbow highlights, but the short version is i have all this character's body parts in different folders, each with their own lineart and background fill, and then the fill opacity is lowered and there's multiply layers clipped to that -- blah blah it's a whole thing. maybe i'll have a whole rundown on this on patreon later. uhhh i think that's it tho! i hope u get something useful out of this extremely specific thing i did lmao

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[sirfrogsworth]

I think in this new age of A.I. the general public is going to need to increase their photography and lighting literacy. The response to this photo has just been a shit show.

There are people pointing out perfectly normal edge lighting and misunderstanding how reflections work.

First the plane is parked at an angle. The tail is farther back than the nose. But also that is a curved surface and it tapers. It's reflecting the area to the right of the photo.

And the bottom of the plane is reflecting what is directly underneath. Which is the tarmac, not the crowd.

It should also be noted that photo was shot with a very telephoto lens and everything is super compressed. The crowd appears much closer to the airplane than they actually are.

But then someone who should have good understanding of lighting said this...

And now I'm worried for her clients. Because that's very... wrong.

Well, wrong-ish.

First, let's try to understand why this photo is setting off some alarm bells.

The crowd toward the rear is in shadow, but they are still very well exposed. But then there is also a bright light source creating a strong edge light on them. Looking at this photo with just the context of what is in it, there are some things that seem uncanny.

The information we do not have is the people in the shadow area are inside a very brightly lit airplane hangar.

So they have artificial light blasting them from the top.

But that light is still much dimmer than the sunlit areas outside so they appear in shade. But we are used to shade being much darker than areas in direct sun. So the balance seems off in our brain. We expect the people to be darker because we don't have the context of the bright hangar lights above them.

But the other issue is that the photo was post processed. It wasn't manipulated. The pixels weren't changed. But the exposure balance was altered.

If I were to guess, the original photo looked more like this...

But newer digital cameras can have 13 to 15 stops of dynamic range. And if you shoot in RAW, you can easily lift shadows and bring down highlights. You can balance the exposure so the dark parts aren't as dark and the bright parts aren't as bright. This photographer might have overdone it a bit in this case, but this is a fairly standard edit used to bring balance to photos.

And lastly, where does the edge light come from?

Edge lighting or backlighting or rim lighting (all the same) should probably be called wrap-around lighting if you want to be more accurate.

It comes from a homogenous light source that is larger than the subject being lit. So with my knife photo, I placed it on a large LED panel light.

The light source was bigger than the subject so it wrapped around the edges.

And I'm afraid the airplane is not nearly large enough to create a light source to wrap around everyone in the crowd. It isn't even reflecting direct sunlight. So I'm sorry to say that lighting designer was mostly mistaken despite the confidence.

The light source is... everything.

That entire red area I highlighted is the light source.

As well as everything above and everything to the sides.

And the biggest aspect of that light source would be the sky above. I think people always forget the sky is a light source. If you are seeing blue, you are seeing light. And I guess the plane is included in that, but that entire highlighted red area is so bright, and so filled with sunlight bouncing around, that it creates basically a giant softbox. It becomes a huge single light source for the people in the hangar.

If you look at footage taken from way inside the hangar, you can see the camera adjusting exposure for the crowd inside, but look at what happens to the sunlit area outside.

What does that look like?

A giant softbox.

A single homogenous light source blasting light inside the hangar.

The sun is so incredibly bright that even when it is not directly lighting something, the light just bouncing around outside is enough to overpower the very bright hangar lights.

So, what have we learned from this?

Perhaps people should hire me to be their lighting designer.

Though I'm sure she is actually very talented. She seems to work with stage lights and this is more physics and photography.

Phystography.

[thistaleisabloodyone]

Okay, so I need to work on the birthday gifs again aaaaaand with all of this extra space, I can also start breaking down more and more concerts and MVs and stuff 😄 Honestly excited, I don't have to keep deleting all of the WIPs once they're completed anymore

[remxedmoon]

(you worked yourself to death.)

yeah i wasn’t kidding when i said these would be coming soon. <- haha funny joke marshall. so!! remember when i said that this post would be coming out last weekend? guess whose tablet broke a few days after saying that! so sorry for the delay!! this is long overdue. here’s a link to the drive, as always! everything in this part of the update should be in the miscellaneous folder (outside of the menu icons, which are in the menu folder. wauaua).

unedited versions below the cut, plus some notes. fair warning 90% of this is just ui stuff lol

so! all of this was already done by the time i posted the enemies. the delay isn’t *entirely* because of the tablet issues, i just managed to get distracted by making: even more redraws! i’d say new update soon but after what happened last time i shouldn’t jinx myself. but! almost All of the art for the initial mod release is done!!!! exciting!!!!!!

please be nice to me (silly) this is my first time doing frame by frame animation in… give or take 5 years? i followed the original animations pretty closely, so they don’t look Awful but i am Aware of the jank. i’m not an animator!!! they’re Good Enough for my purposes.

hey did you know that the original teleport map is slightly off center. did you know that. that’s not the case for the redraw for the record but it did make things a little harder. despite that, i think you can tell i was having fun with the dormont part of the map. i would’ve put more detail into the house, but we never really get a more detailed look at it??? and i didn’t want to make assumptions. so that part’s just traced from the original 👍. anyways shoutout to the clocktower being Curved for whatever reason

outside of those, all of the added art is actually just spritework. i didn’t know this at first, but there’s a TON of copies of sprites from the icon set. Basically Everywhere. so those are added now! and should work properly! also added a few sprites that were Missing from my original batch. not going to put them all here, but a few Important ones (which i actually had to make new art for) are the rock paper scissors cheatsheet, the Larger versions of the craft signs (used in the calamité fight and. probably somewhere else idk), and the craft signs for the tutorial kid fight!

aaaand i think that’s it! for stuff from this update. yeah no there’s more coming buddy. my tablet already broke one time this week there’s no way it’s happening twice. i’m not working on portraits Just Yet (though the temptation has been There), but i’ve got the title screens, a few backgrounds, and the ending cgs done! along with a few other assorted cgs sketched out. because im out of my fucking mind. so, uh, see you soon!! enjoy!!

[justauthoring]

not a cuddler, then?

requested! -> uhh can i ask for comfort cuddles with sanemi? i feel like I'd would be sooo adorable because he's not really this tpye, but he would try for is love requested by! -> anonymous

a/n -> him and genya do be my babies

(also, not spell checked!)

pairing -> sanemi shinazugawa x f!reader

he was stiff against your back, arms locked around you tense and frozen in place.

the laugh that bubbled from your throat was, truthfully and to your defence, out of your control.

"what?" sanemi growls from behind you; you feel his chest rumble against your back and the laughter bubbles up all over again. sweet, melodic giggles leave your lips as sanemi stares behind you, thoroughly offended and embarrassed, mouth left agape. "fucking what?"

when you simply continue to just laugh, sanemi takes matters into his own hands; literally. his much larger hands grip you by your hips, lifting you and forcing you to face him. you're sit in his lap, legs straddling his own, and somewhere along the way your hands had moved to cover your lips, leaving you peaking through them hesitantly at sanemi's rather sour face.

"oi," he calls, growing further frustrated at your lack of reply to him. taking your hands by the wrists, he pulls them away from your face, revealing the shit-eating grin that had been hidden behind them. he narrows his eyes. "what the fuck is so funny?"

biting your lip, you let your arms fall; "you."

and pauses a moment, as if believe he'd heard you wrong before the silence echoes and realizes no, he definitely heard you right. "me?" he echoes, jerking back.

you nod. "you," you confirm. then, feeling pity for him adn your teasing, you just take his hand in yours, threading your fingers and squeeze. "we don't have to cuddle if you don't want to, sanemi."

"who said i didn't like cuddling?"

"no one," you shrug; "but it's pretty clear."

and you're not sure how he does it, but sanemi actually has the audacity to look surprised at that.

"sanemi," you sigh, "you were as stiff as a board. it's okay."

pulling you closer by your hips, sanemi shakes his head. "it's not that i don't like cuddling," he admits, "it's just... i'm not used to it. and... well—..."

he cuts himself off, his words drifting as he shifts his gaze, refusing to meet your own. you raise a brow at the action, confused, quick to bend to move back into his line of vision with a gentle smile. "i'm sorry for laughing," you offer, "but you can tell me. i won't laugh, promise."

he eyes you like he doesn't believe you, but a minute more of your unwavering stare and sanemi is caving like he always seems to be when it concerns you.

"...i'm scared i'm going to hurt you."

your eyes widen as your face falls, having never expected such a honest admission. your relationship with sanemi was still quite new and the both of you were exploring what boundaries you were comfortable breaking and what ones you weren't yet.

you knew sanemi was a rather hot-headed man, but he'd never been anything but kind to you. sure, he could be crude and his words had more bite then others, but you knew it never held any malious; not towards you at least.

besides, his actions had never been anything but gentle.

and now, if you thought about it, you guess you could say too gentle at times. it was clear to you now, why.

stretching his palms in front of him, sanemi frowns; "all i've ever done is hurt people... i don't know how to love. and i don't want to hurt you by accident."

shaking your head, you're quick to set your hands over his own, pulling them and the scars that rest there away from his gaze; instead, you redirect his gaze back on you. smiling gently, you guide his hands to your waist.

"you could never hurt me, sanemi," you assure. "i trust you wholeheartedly."

and his lips part, as if wanting to argue.

you don't give him the chance.

"you've never been anything but gentle with me," you express earnestly. "soft and warm and gentle. we don't have to cuddle until you're comfortable, but just being in your arms is enough to make me feel safe."

that seems to catch his attention.

"safe?" he questions, "you feel safe in my arms?"

"always."

"oh."

you grin, wide and genuine and sanemi feels his resolve fading as he takes you in, sat on his lap, and the desire to have you, to touch you grows stronger by the second. it was always a drifting want, one he'd be able to ignore, but now?

now he just wants to hold you close.

leaning forward, sanemi takes you by the waist, spinning you back around until your back is pressed against his chest once more. his arm holds you around the front of your stomach, keeping you close as his face presses into the crook of your neck.

and this time the laugh that leaves your lips sounds like music to sanemi's ears as you cuddle back into him in return, nudging him with your nose along the cheek before pressing a kiss just after.

sanemi realizes, as the moments pass by, that you sink into him without a single care in the world and not a trace of fear. you lean into his grasp and hold him back with just as much love and sanemi thinks then, he loves cuddling.

if it's with you.

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 12: The Fight (Warning: this chapter will feature blood and violence. Proceed at your own risk)

“Look at all this,” you whisper as you take in the sights of the Strip, all the various casinos and hotels lighting up the night sky. “I returned to Nevada four years ago and I’ve never been here before. What the hell was I thinking?”

(You were trying to set up your new life, which was the responsible thing to do back then. But, we agree, coming here sooner would not have been unwelcome. This city seems to be a source of endless entertainment.)

You had finished the DLC for Salvage Rights earlier today and to celebrate both its release and its positive reception, you decided to treat yourself by going to Sin City and indulging in its various casinos and restaurants; you have the knowledge and experience of countless gamblers from Gotham, so you should be able to play blackjack and poker with the best of them.

You thought you were prepared to handle and glitz and glamor Vegas has to offer, but seeing it with your own eyes has left you speechless. The lights have you mesmerized and you’re loving it! Everywhere you look, there’s something beckoning you, like a moth to a flame and right now, you don’t care if you get burned.

“Hey, look over there,” you say, stopping to look at something above you in the distance.

The sight is a towering building proudly bearing the name “Caesar’s Palace” in lights. During your brief research for your trip to the Strip, you read Caesar’s Palace is one of the most popular casinos in the city and is also a popular destination for dining.

(You did say you wanted the “full Vegas experience.” Going to one of the largest establishments in the city would be a step in the right direction.)

When you first thought of this little excursion, you wanted to have fun, but didn’t want to get trapped in the larger ones and lose all the money you brought in with you, instead opting to stay in the smaller casinos. “Keep it simple, keep it safe,” you said a few hours ago.

Now, the lights of the massive casino before you has ensnared you and is luring you towards it like an angler fish does with its prey.

“Ave, true to Caesar,” you say as you begin the trek towards the towering monolith.

If the outside was mesmerizing, then the inside is absolutely enthralling! As expected of a place named after a Greek emperor, the interior looks like a palace plucked from the Greek Empire, complete with marble and gold, making you feel like royalty.

(We take it we are going to play here?)

“Damn right,” you say as you enter the casino part of the resort, taking in the seemingly endless rows to slot machines, card tables, and other various gambling set ups.

As you look at each slot machine and table, you’re flooded with information from the Megamycete’s archives on what you want to see when playing slot machines and when is the best time to stand when playing blackjack. While Gotham doesn’t have shit on Vegas, it did have a passable gambling scene, which attracted many expert gamblers to that City of the Damned.

With your newfound knowledge in hand, you exchange the thousand bucks you brought with you for chips and make your way to a roulette table with only one other person.

“Good evening, sir,” the dealer greets you as you situate yourself of the other side of the table, away from the other player. “Will you be joining us?”

“Deal me in,” you respond, pushing a few chips on the table to test the waters. You may know the basics from playing Fallout New Vegas, but this is real life with real money being risked and this time you don’t have a maxed out Luck stat to cheat the system with.

A few hands in and you can say for sure you love gambling. Sure, you’ve lost a few rounds, ruining a couple hot streaks, but right now, you have more money than you came in with.

“Fifteen, odd, black,” the dealer says when the ball finally stops spinning before giving you the pot, much to your delight.

“Goddamn it,” the other man exclaims, shoving himself away from the table and storming off, hopefully towards the exit as tonight has not been his night.

“I apologize for that display,” the deal says as he readies the spinner for the next round. “Will you be playing another round?”

“Definitely,” you respond, sliding three-hundred dollars worth of chips onto red.

“Have room for one more,” a masculine voice rings out next to you.

You tense up when the voice registers in your head and you look to your right to see Bruce fucking Wayne, looking down at you with that fake ass smile he gives the idiots of Gotham. Your anger only intensifies when he places a thousand dollars worth of chips into the pot.

What the hell is he doing here?

(How dare he,) the Megamycete practically growls. (This is a night meant for you to enjoy yourself and he intrudes upon it, and in your city no less.)

“Welcome, Mr. Wayne,” the dealer says as he spins the spinner after the bastard places his bet.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says to you, his focus on you and not the spinner. “I have to say, I don’t peg you as the gambling type.”

You say nothing, not wanting to give him any sort of satisfaction, and focus on the game.

“It’s a very dangerous habit if you’re not careful,” he chides you as the baller begins to slow down. “And coming to a place like Vegas? It’s not safe for someone like you. You should be back home, where you belong.”

You know the “home” he’s referring to isn’t your house in Goodsprings, but Wayne Manor in Gotham and it’s taking all your willpower not to pimp smack the shit out of him right now. This was meant to be a night for you to have fun in Vegas and you’re not gonna let him ruin that like he did the night you won your award.

“Gotham has plenty of high-end casinos where you can play all the games you want. I could take you to each of them and make sure you get the VIP treatment.”

“Vegas is far safer than Gotham,” you retort. “Here, the biggest threat you face is losing your money when you don’t know when to quit. In Gotham, you have nut jobs running around killing people on a nightly basis and the biggest nut job of them all beating the crap out of them.” You give him a mocking look, knowing something that would get under his skin. “No one in their right mind would live in that cesspit of a city. If you ask me, that place should be nuked to hell.”

While he manages to hide it well, you can see just the faintest of winces and you let your smirk show. For whatever reason, he thinks Gotham is the best place on the planet and is worth protecting. You learned about Gotham’s seedy history from its early days as a colony established in 1635 and you can say for certain that area is cursed. If you had your way, a giant wall would be built around Gotham and everyone inside would be left to kill each other and rot in that cursed city, especially the Waynes.

“Gotham has its flaws, sure,” he responds. “But I’m able to look past its dark side and see a bright future for both the city and everyone that calls it home. As you know, Wayne Enterprises has been the vanguard of breathing new life into the city.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I heard WE’s stock has practically become worthless in the last few days. Rumor has it all major stockholders are demanding for you to step down as CEO.”

“I’ve been in tight spots before and I’ve always come out on top. This will be no different. I’m sure things will turn back around in no time.”

“Six, even, black,” the dealer announces, bringing you back to the game. “Congratulations, Mister Wayne.”

You roll your eyes as the pot goes to the son of a bitch. You mentally shake your head and place your chips on the table for the next round.

“Maybe you should step down,” you say as the dealer begins the round. “I was stuck in that manor of yours for over a decade and I know it’s a mess. You should really get your house in order before you go around ‘fixing’ Gotham.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my family,” he growls. “It’s perfect the way it is.”

“No one’s buying that story anymore, Mister Wayne. I take it you haven’t read Lois Lane’s latest article?”

“Of course I have,” he says, glaring at you and it makes you want to laugh knowing how you’re testing his limits. “How could you say those things about your family?”

“You’re not my family,” you snap. “You all made it quite clear I wasn’t a part of it over and over. The only family I’ve ever had was Momma and she was taken from me.”

The anger in his eyes fade and he was silent for a moment. “I know we made mistakes during your time with us and we’re sorry about that.”

“It’s too little, too late, Mister Wayne.”

“Twenty-four, even, black,” the dealer states, clearly more interested in your conversation than the game.

You can’t help but smile as the chips make their way back to you and you place a bet of five-hundred for the next round. Of course, Bruce doesn’t go way and instead places another bet.

“Please, Y/N, come home,” he pleads as the spinner is spun. “We all miss you. Especially Alfred.”

“He’s welcome to visit me whenever he wants. The rest of you can go to hell.”

“Like it or not, they’re your siblings, Y/N,” he growls, getting closer to you. “And I’m your father. You will show them, and me, the respect that entails.”

“Respect is earned, not given,” you retort, getting close and looking up at him. He may terrify Gotham’s criminally insane, but you know you’re better than him in every way, so you’re not scared. “And don’t get it mixed up, you’re a sperm donor, not my father. God knows you never acted like it.” You lean close so that your face is mere inches away from his. “If you want, we can take this outside, Mister Wayne. Just remember what happened last time things got physical between us.”

“Now, now, gentlemen,” the dealer says. “Let’s keep this friendly. We’re all here to have fun, right?”

(Listen to him, Y/N. Do not let him ruin your first trip to Vegas. There will be plenty of time to put him in his place after we have had our fun.)

You continue to stare at him and direct all your anger and hatred towards him until he finally concedes and backs off and you do the same, just in time for the ball to finally stop.

“Nineteen, odd, red,” the dealer says as he slides the chips to you.

“I just want to make things right,” he says as he places his bet. “I know I treated you wrong and I want to fix that. So we can be father and son.”

You roll your eyes at the pathetic words and even more pathetic look as you place your bet and the deal begins the round. “You’re not sorry, Mister Wayne, you just feel guilty. Whatever conscious you have in your twisted little soul is making you feel bad and you can’t stand it, so that’s why you’re humiliating yourself trying to earn something I can never and will never give you: my forgiveness.”

He winces enough for both you and the dealer to see, but you find yourself taking no joy in fracturing his mask. This was supposed to be a night of fun and games, but he had to come all the way from Gotham and ruin it. It’s actually made you despise him even more, a task you thought impossible until now.

“Twelve, even, red,” the dealer states as he slides the chips towards Bruce.

It’s then you notice that you and him have almost the same amount of chips and the sight of it ignites an inferno of competition, which fuels your desire to assert your superiority over this pathetic creature before you.

(We are with you,) the Megamycete states firmly. (Show this interloper his place!)

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he says as you place all your chips on red, your mother’s favorite color, glaring at him as you do. It’s then he does the same thing, but places his chips on black, the color of the Bat.

How predictable.

With both your bets placed, the dealer spins the roulette, signaling the final round between you two. When that little ball stops spinning, one of you will take all and the other will lose all.

“Please, there must be something I can give you to show you I’m sincere. And you of all people should price is no object for me. Just name it and it’s yours.”

(How pathetic! He thinks all those years of abuse and neglect can be erased by buying you some insignificant trinket? Does he think you some whore that can be bought? Show him how wrong he is, Y/N!)

“You want to know what I want, Mister Wayne,” you ask, malice dripping with your every word, as the ball begins to slow down and clatter around. “I want you to know that I hate you more than anything else on this world; I want it to rattle around in your head for the rest of your life, from when you’re around your collection of misfits to when you lay your head down at night, that there’s no word or phrase in any language that has ever existed or ever will exist on this planet that can fully express how much animosity and hatred I have for you.”

It’s then that you get in his personal space has he had done with you earlier and use the mold so you can stretch your body ever so slightly so your face is almost touching him and stare into those eyes you’ve come to despise so much and they stare back at you, full of hurt and shock.

In the background, you can hear the ball beginning to slow down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the game. Right now, all that matters is conveying just how much you hate Bruce Wayne.

“I want you to grow old and die knowing that, in the end, I was the one that rejected you.”

His response? Nothing but the widening of his eyes and stepping back, as if you had struck him.

“Seven, odd, red,” the dealer says, obviously shocked at what you just said.

You say nothing as you gather your chips and walk away, leaving Bruce Wayne behind to reflect on your words.

As you walk, you notice your heart is beating enough to burst out for your chest and your face is molten hot, even without touching it. In the moment, you had no idea how your words affected you as much as they apparently did that bastard.

(Perhaps we should return home,) the Megamycete suggests. (The night has been ruined and you need to rest after that interaction. We can always return another night for entertainment.)

As much as you hate to admit it, it’s right; after that display, you’re not in the mood to see what else you can get up to in your first night in Vegas. Being around him has brought back much of the anger you thought you had finally buried after moving back to Goodsprings and getting your life together and it’s killed any desire for gambling, dining, and everything in between.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice sounding weak even to you. “Let’s go home.”

You quickly cash in your chips and pocket the check the cashier gives you before making your way towards the exit. From there, you walk around until you find an alleyway tucked into an isolated and desolate part of the city to sprout mold armor and wings before taking off into the night sky.

“You know, the city looks even more breathtaking from up here,” you remark as you enter the vast expanse of the Mojave.

(Indeed. Maybe when we return, we will earn enough money from playing games that we can stay in the highest level of the tallest hotel of the city and see it again.)

“Yeah,” you respond with a throaty chuckle. “That’d be nice.”

You look down at the desert beneath you when you feel something hit your wings, slicing through and severing them, leaving you to fall to the ground. You shout as you harden your armor just in time as you impact with the sand, creating a deep crater.

(Are you alright,) it asks as you climb your way out.

“Yeah,” you respond with a groan. “What the hell happened?”

You get your answer once you make your way to the top and see Bruce, donned in his Batman gear, looking down at you.

“Are you alright,” he asks, as if he wasn’t the cause of the incident.

You dismiss your mold helm and look at him square in his eye slits, taking a deep breath and exhaling before saying, ever so calmly, “I’m going to kill you now.”

And with your intentions declared, you summon a new pair of wings and launch yourself towards the bastard and before he can react, you grab him by the face with one hand and propel the both of you backwards, using to wings to fly as you forcibly shove his head into the sand and push him forward, creating a trail in your wake.

His hands fly to yours and attempt to free himself from your grasp, but you don’t give him the chance and throw him towards a nearby rock formation as hard as you can.

He can only flail around like a rag doll as he flies through the air and lands on the rock formation with a satisfying crash, sending debris and sand flying in all directions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough to keep him down as he’s quickly back on his feet. He reaches into his utility belt and throws a batarang at you and you respond by creating a similar object out of mold and send it flying towards it, the two of them hitting each other and falling to the ground.

Of course, he’s quick to act and before you can see it, he’s thrown something at you and you’re trapped in some kind of cable.

“What the hell,” you exclaim as you try to break free of the wire, but find yourself unable to.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says as he closes the gap between the two of you. “But you’re coming home and I’m gonna find a way to get rid of this thing inside you.”

You’re already pissed, but the way he says something so batshit crazy with a tone similar to one that you’d use to calm a startled animal enrages you even more.

How he can still be so determined to drag you back to Gotham when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate him and his family after everything they’ve done to you is nothing short of astounding.

(He seeks to separate us,) the Megamycete practically hisses. (Do not let him! Kill him, Y/N! Kill him!)

Your rage towards the man before you explodes like a blast furnace and you reduce your body to a murder of crows and fly towards Bruce at top speed.

He raises his arms to protect his face and you use your mold hardened beaks and talons to slice into his suit, leaving at least two dozen bloody cuts all over his body.

(Good! Hurt him even more! Bleed him dry!)

Your murder of crows fly around him, forcing him into a defensive posture, and you gather them all so you can reform into your armored form right behind him. He realizes what’s happened, but he can only turn around to face you when you grab his wrist as hard as you can, and wave him around in the air and slam him into the rock below you over and over, taking pleasure in the sounds of rock breaking with every hit.

It’s then you slam him into the rock and summon a mold sword. When he looks up at you and realizes what’s about to happen, he raises his hand just in time for your sword to go through his hand and the tip of your sword pierce the hardened Bat symbol on his chest; you know the symbol is the strongest part of his suit so it can protect whatever he has beating in his chest, but you’re determined, so it begins to crack and crumble as you drive the sword deeper in.

He tries to say something, but the damage you’ve done to him takes its toll as he can only gurgle something as blood begins to seep from the corner of his mouth.

You dismiss your helm as you lean down towards him, a vicious, bloodthirsty grin etched across your face, and the sword goes down just a little more.

“Let’s get rid of this, shall we,” you mock, grabbing his cowl, ignoring the shock the suit gives you in response. “I want to see the life fade from your eyes!”

And with that declaration, you rip the cowl off him, exposing his face, marred with bloody cuts and bruises, before you.

When you look into his eyes, you can see past the look of struggle is fear and terror.

(He knows this is the end! Finish him! Put an end to the Bat!)

“Goodbye, Mister Wayne!”

Just then, you see something fly past you and it’s then you realize the arm holding your sword has been sliced through. Bruce takes advantage of the situation and kicks you a few feet away from him and he backflips so he can put even more distance between the two of you.

You quickly collect yourself to see the source of the disruption: Dick and Cass, donned in their vigilante gear.

“You ok, B,” Dick asks as Bruce joins them.

“I’m fine,” he grunts out. “What are you doing here?”

“Alfred told us you were coming here and we knew something like this was going to happen. We all wanted to come, but we knew we couldn’t all leave Gotham, so we drew straws.”

The way he sounds so joyful pisses you off even more. How dare he! You were so close to putting an end to him and Dick had to come and ruin it!

(You should rip his limbs off! Strip him of his wings and cast him into the dam!)

Cass looks at you and you instantly know she’s analyzing you, determining possible strengths and weaknesses. When she sees that you’re missing a limb, her eyes widen.

“Oh,” Dick exclaims when he follows her gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby bird! I didn’t mean to do that! I just wanted to get you off of Bruce!”

You look down to find the severed appendage lying near your foot and go to pick it pick it up. While Dick is spouting endless apologies and pleas for you to stay calm, you merely place the limb where it once was and it begins to stitch itself back together. Once your arm is reattached, you fix your gaze back to them to find that they’re starring at you in shock at what just happened.

“Oh,” Dick manages to spit out after a few seconds of silence.

“This is between me and him,” you say as you take a few steps towards them. “Fuck off.”

“You need to stop this, baby bird,” Dick retorts. “We’re family, you shouldn’t be doing this!”

“You’re kidding, right,” you say with a mocking chuckle. “You people are constantly fighting with one another! If you’re not giving each other black eyes, you’re either breaking bones or slitting throats! You’re all a bunch of emotionally constipated psychopaths who belong in padded cells with the rest of Arkham’s lunatics! And I want nothing to do with any of you! So, for the last time, leave me the fuck alone!”

The only answer you get is the three of them getting into combat postures, indicating they’re ready to go on the attack.

“I give you the chance to walk away, and this is the thanks I get,” you sigh.

From the bottom of your feet, you command two mold tendrils to burrow into the sand below and snake their way over to them and once in place, you order them to burst out from beneath them; such a tactic would spell the end for normal people, but the Waynes are anything but normal, so they somehow knew you were up to something and scatter just as the tendrils emerge.

Still, you put them on the defense by ordering the tendrils to lash out at them, separating them from one another and forcing them to put all their focus on the tendrils while Bruce and Dick are dodging the lashing tendrils, you make your way to the nearest vigilante: Cass.

Just as you near her, she turns around and counters the slash of your mold sword with a blade of her own. You quickly realize that the few dozen people that possess any type of sword fighting prowess pale in comparison to Cass’ and decide to swap to hand-to-hand combat by punching her in gut when your blades were clashed together, sending her flying several feet.

She quickly recovers by the time you close the gap and she not only evades most of your punches, but she manages to give you a few.

What the hell, she shouldn’t be winning.

(Her fighting style is more advanced than anything we possess in our archives,) the Megamycete responds, sounding shameful. (We are unable to find a successful counter to her assault.)

Of course, it makes sense now! While Gotham may have attracted a few dozen experts in fighting over the centuries, Bruce has been trained by masters in every form of combat, including Ra’s Al Ghul, whose lifespan makes the Megamycete seem infantile in comparison. And he’s no doubt taught all of them his fighting style.

Just then, you feel something hit your back and explode, sending you flying. When you recover, you see Bruce and Dick have cut your tendrils and are now heading towards Cass to reinforce her.

(Their armories also seem to be more than we can handle,) it says as it repairs the damage done to your armor. (We have hardened your armor as much as we can, but it seems their tools will be able to penetrate our defenses.)

Shit, so that leaves you vulnerable to their fighting styles and their gadgets.

“Alright,” you mutter to yourself as you ready yourself. “We’ll just have to rely on the one thing none of them have ever had: powers.”

You repeat what you had done before and disperse your body into a murder of crows and send them flying around the Bats, causing them to huddle together and raise their arms in an attempt to protect themselves. You have enough crows continue to fly around them to keep them distracted while the rest of them form together to form your body, but with the addition of four, oversized spider-like legs extruding from your back.

You allow yourself to fall to the ground, the legs pointed down to form four very sharp stabbing implements. They look up just in time to see what’s about to happen, so they force their way through the swarm just as you land where they once stood. The remaining crows reintegrate into your body as you make your way towards them, jabbing your spider limbs in an attempt to stab any of them.

Dick and Cass have narrow frames, so they’re harder to hit, but Bruce’s more bulkier body makes him a more feasible target, so you shift your focus to him. After a few failed slashes, you manage to land a decent hit that causes him to fail onto his back. He tries to reach for his utility belt, but you use two of your limbs to pierce his shoulders and he lets out a pained yell s he struggles in vain to free himself from beneath you.

He looks up at you, a painful expression etched on his face, while you summon two small tendrils from your back, ready to deal the final blow.

“If I can’t rip out your non-existent heart, I’ll just have to settle for your head!”

But, just as you’re about to make good on your declaration, you feel something attach itself onto your back, throwing you off balance.

“Y/N, don’t,” a voice says from behind and it’s then you realize it’s not something on your back, but someone.

Specifically, Dick.

“Get off me, circus freak,” you snarl as you begin to struggle with him.

Deeming Dick the bigger threat, you shift your focus from Bruce to shaking off the acrobat any way you can, flailing around and reaching out to grab him so you can finally finish him off; while you want to kill Bruce more than anything right now, you want him to suffer before you shed his blood.

Making him watch as you rip his golden child’s head off while he’s powerless to stop it? Yes, that’ll do the trick.

It’s then you feel something at your spider feet and when you manage to look down while holding Dick at bay to see Cass, batarang in hand, cutting the feet pinning Bruce to the desert floor in an attempt to free him.

(She attempts to free the bastard,) the Megamycete hisses. (Kill her! Kill her now!)

But in typical fashion, Dick butts in where he’s not wanted and hurls himself towards you, latching onto your upper body, forcing you to brace your back spider legs to prevent you from tumbling down.

You watch in pure frustration as Cass slices off the parts of your legs pinning Bruce down and before you can react, the two of them hurl themselves onto you, joining Dick in trying to wrestle you to the ground.

You grab Dick with one hand and Cass with the other and just as you ready to summon a tendril to deal with Bruce and stabs you with some type of syringe, making you howl in pain at the sensation; instead of injecting you with something, you feel your blood being drained from you.

“Enough,” you hiss, hurling the two smaller vigilantes as far as you can before grabbing Bruce by both his shoulders and pulling him up so that the two of you are eye-to-eye.

It’s at this point your rage reaches its apex; this was suppose to be a night of fun out on the Strip, but the man before you not only had to ruin it by showing up, but now he’s come full circle on his batshit craziness by blasting you out of the sky and try to apprehend you like you’re one of the crazies from Arkham.

And to make matters worse, he had to bring two of his children, Dick being one of them! While you will always hate Bruce with every fiber of your being and Damian being an extremely close second, you’ve always had a strong resentment towards the eldest Wayne son. While the bastard will always say he loves all his children equally (minus you, of course), you know Dick will always be number one in Bruce’s heart due to him being the first child and being a capable Gotham socialite and vigilante.

And to add insult to injury, everyone always says Dick is everything an eldest brother should be: reliable, responsible, and doting. For years, you could nothing but cry as you saw him going out of his way to help and hang out with the other Wayne children, no matter how loudly they tried to reject it. Watching such the love and affection you craved be handed out so willingly and carefree to anyone but you made you think you would never be loved by anyone other than your deceased Momma.

You let out an inhuman howl in Bruce’s face as you shove your head into his right shoulder and latch onto it with your teeth with enough force to rival a hydraulic press. He lets out a pained yell and attempts to pull you off by your hair, but you apply more force until you eventually pierce through the armor, followed by the skin, then the muscle, and finally bone.

You pull your head back, bits of bone and flesh dangling from your teeth. You look to see his right arm practically dangling from just the barest of flesh and blood oozing from it like a waterfall. You shift your gaze from your handiwork to Bruce’s face to see the most delicious expression of pain etched on it and his complexion is pale and clammy.

At this point, you’re a crazed animal, chomping at the bit to go in for the kill on the wounded prey before you and rip it apart until it’s unrecognizable.

(Yes,) the Megamycete roars, its voice a symphony of bloodthirsty cheers. (Do it! Exact your vengeance upon him!)

Before you do anything, you feel something hit your back and explode, but unlike the first one, this one sends some sort of freezing gases scattering across your body, sending feelings of burning as your armor and spider legs rapidly freeze.

You howl in pain as you drop Bruce so you can slap at the affected areas, trying to find some way to relieve yourself of the freezing feeling.

(Hurts,) the Megamycete hisses. (Hurts!)

You rid yourself of your armor and spider legs by ripping it off your body, the frozen mold constructs shattering upon impact with the ground.

It’s then you realize you’re exposed and quickly turn around, ready to defend yourself when you see the three of them flying away on the Batwing at top speed. You could go after them, but after the fight with the Bats and their freezing grenade, you can only fall to your knees, trying to catch your breath.

(We had no idea we possessed such a vulnerability to the cold,) the Megamycete says, its voice sounding weak. (The winters of Gotham drove us to a state of near hibernation, but this is the first time we have ever had a reaction like that.)

“And now you know,” you manage to gasp out. “And so do they.”

You can only watch as the vehicle flies away as fast as it can, carrying three of the Bats away where they will no doubt share what’s happened here with the others, which will no doubt lead to even more encounters like this in the future.

“Shit.”

In the Batwing, Bruce knows Dick is talking to hi, his words quick and high pitched as he tries to dress his wound, but right now, he can’t bring himself to take his focus off the syringe filled with your blood.

When he set out for Vegas, he was determined to find a way to provoke you into showing him your powers and obtain a blood sample so he could perform more tests, but he didn’t think he’d discover a major weakness in your defenses.

While he hated to see the cryo grenade caused you so much pain, he can’t help but rejoice at the knowledge that there’s a crack in your armor and if he approaches it at the right angle, he can have you home far sooner than he anticipated.

And when you’re back home, he can find a way to get that damn thing out of you and return you to normal. And when that’s done, he can begin to make things right with you.

He grips the syringe harder, seeing the key to making his daily whole once again within your blood.

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[aurorasgate]

i saw a post while scrolling down your profile and i came up with a req of sleepy sex with seph whos just a super exhausted husband who wants to spend time with his wife but doesn't have the energy to go all out

eeee anon!!! i love this request - i am but a puddle against this man🥺🩷 husband!seph my beloved<3 i hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting this! my heart was all warm writing this🥰💕

sephiroth x fem!reader | 3.3k + words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, pre nibelheim seph, soft n sweet, size kink if you squint (i will repeat this man is huge), cream pie

slow and heavy, your eyes blink and through your bleary vision the animated movie about the baby chocobo who ran away from home that you had started about an hour ago continues to play quietly on the television screen. you can hear their small voice, make out the tuft of pale yellow feathers at the top of their head but don’t register what’s being said or what they're doing. 

your thumb fiddles with the band around your finger, the motion trying to keep you awake for just a little longer in hopes you’d be able to wait for your husband to get home. it’s late, with the moon high above your shared apartment on the top floor of the building and the quiet streets below set in the glow of the streetlights that emanate the color of the mako that powers them. 

the world was in a similar state when sephiroth had left early this morning and you suppose you were too. though instead of being tucked into bed that clung with his warmth, wiggling more and more onto his side until you could bury your face in his pillow, you were now laying on the couch in a half comfortable position with a soft blanket wrapped around you. it also happened to smell like him.

blinking again, or what you thought was you blinking, you’re surprised when your eyes open and in the dim light the only thing you see is the familiar dark leather of sephiroths coat against his pale skin, so very close you could reach your hand out to touch him with little effort, could feel his warmth. the apartment is quiet, like you had slept through the rest of the movie even though it feels like only a minute has passed since you closed your eyes.

“welcome home,” you coo, your voice clinging with sleep and happiness.

“i didn’t mean to wake you,” he replies quietly, caring. tired.

“you didn’t,” your assurance is sweet as you stretch out your arms towards him. even kneeling he’s so much larger than you and you have to sit up a bit to wrap your arms around his neck properly, wanting to hold onto him and not the armor he still adorned. he must have just walked through the door. you smile when you look up to meet his shimmering eyes, loving how tenderly they look back at you but there’s no ignoring the dark circles under them either.

bringing him into your embrace, needing no strength or words to do so, large arms envelope around you. he smells like leather and sweat and the flora of his shampoo, an intoxicating combination that has you snuggling closer, shamelessly taking in a deep breath. only a moment passes before he pulls you from the blanket, effortlessly lifting your body and so easily you follow, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stands and starts to make his way to the bedroom. dressed only in one of sephiroths old tshirts and your panties, in the cool air your bare legs break out in goosebumps and you cling to him harder, soaking in his natural heat.

sephiroths hold on your thighs grows tighter. 

“were you waiting for me?” he asks, murmuring softly against the side of your head where his lips place a long kiss but there's a teasing lilt to his tone that makes your heart flutter wildly.

“of course i was, i wanted to see you. didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you mumble the last part, feeling your heart contract.

perfect pink lips still pressed to the side of your head, he hums in contentment at your words. what had he done to deserve you? “i’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

shaking your head, you hug him tighter, nuzzling the tip of your nose into his soft skin. “it’s okay seph. i’ll always wait for you.”

so often you have left him speechless, longing to never let you leave his embrace. he felt the same when he came through the door and spotted your figure curled up on the couch. his little love, so adorable and even more thoughtful in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to. 

in sephiroths long strides the walk to the bedroom isn’t long but he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet and instead of placing you on your side of the bed and leave you curled up under the blankets to get ready to join you, he sits at the edge of it and rests your legs comfortably on either side of his muscular thighs. perhaps he should have shed his armor before he came over to you on the couch but upon seeing you there, his feet immediately brought him to your side. all he wanted after every day, long or not, though lately they had been constantly long, was to end it with you in his arms.

shifting your weight on his legs, you move your arms from around his neck, letting your fingers roam from the column of the throat, over his exposed collar bone and to his shoulder. he sighs under your touch and you can feel his eyes on your face but your own can’t be torn from the rise and fall of his chest and the milky soft skin you want to kiss over and over again. 

your hands are gentle and delicate as you pull at the straps that keep his pauldrons secured to his jacket and you have to grip each one with both hands as you lift them off his shoulders, forgetting how heavy they actually are. he helps you shrug them off of him and place them at the ground near his feet, one after the other, and as you undo the clasps of his belts, he sheds his gloves and spreads his large hands over the span of the top of your thighs.

he feels lighter, in so many ways and all of which lead back to you; your love, your soft touch, your tender flesh under his hands that were never meant for anything but to be a weapon, a tool, and yet to you they’re nothing of the sort. home, you had once called them so fondly. you had always trusted him to touch you with gentleness he once believed he was not capable of.

“i missed you,” your voice, barely above a whisper, breaks the silence in the room as you undo his jacket, moving onto the suspenders of his soldier uniform that cross his chest. you work on unbuttoning them and look up at him, feeling your body flush with heat under the glow of his mako eyes in the moonlit room and the pulse of his thin pupils that blow wide and return to their normal thin slits at the locking of your gazes.

the warmth of his left palm leaves your leg and his large hand cradles the back of your skull, bringing you to his lips. tips of silver locks tickle your cheeks, act as a sheer curtain of starlight and it is all you can see against the sparkle of the lifestream in his beautiful eyes. “i’ve missed you too darling,” he says lowly, his words spoken on your lips before capturing you in a deep, breath stealing kiss that has you clinging to his chest for purchase and his right hand traveling from your thigh, over the hem of your panties and under your shirt to your lower back to press you against him.

years of training, experiments, mako, have made his body hard, every inch of him defined in thick cords of muscle and scars that you’ve counted and mapped out like constellations and loved endlessly but there’s a distinct press between your legs and with each kiss you share, it only grows harder, more evident and you can’t stop yourself from wiggling your hips to feel more of him.

sephiroth groans against your lips, his fingers flexing and pulling you further into him until there’s nothing that could slip between your two bodies. a languid roll of his hips has you gasping into the kiss and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, exploring your mouth and bucking his hips at the touch of your tongue against his, so sweet and needy.

you don’t know how long you stay like that, on the edge of breathlessness and pleasure that wasn’t enough and was all you need at the same time but suddenly your world is turning and your body becomes caged between the plush sheets and your husband's firm body. the hand on your back moves to keep him hovering above you, so as not to crush you with his full weight, and your thighs spread instinctively. through your panties his thick clothed cock rubs against your clit, making you gasp.

at the breaking of your lips, you take in cool air that does nothing to quell the heat building inside of you, especially when his own finds your neck and begins to kiss the span of your throat, the tip of his tongue licking along your pulse point, tasting your skin without hurry. but you can’t help the worry building inside of you either. he must be so exhausted. you saw it in his eyes, felt it on his skin and your own longing was a reminder of how much he had been working of late.

“seph- wait.”

he pulls away from your neck to look into your eyes, stopping the soft rutting of his hips. worry flashes through his eyes as he looks down at you, his breath heavy and hot in the little air that surrounds you.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you’re quick to assure him, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks. he leans into your touch, long dark lashes fluttering closed. “i just - aren’t you tired? we don’t have to ton-”

your words are cut off by sephiroth bringing a hand over one of your own, holding it there as he kisses your palm and speaks against your skin. “i’m okay. i want you,” another kiss to your palm. “i need you.” as if to emphasize his point, he rolls his hips again, letting you feel just how hard he is for you. “can i have you angel?”

“please.” you all but whimper as you arch into him and your free hand on his face sinks into his silver locks, soft and silky between your fingers. he always asked but he never needed to. “i’m yours seph.” yours for the taking. yours to love. yours for eternity, in every life, in every universe.

“you’re mine,” he says, leaning down to kiss your lips softly while keeping your palm pressed to his cheek. “and i’m yours,” he murmurs against your lips before he’s completely too far away from you, now standing at the edge of the bed while you lay enveloped completely in it.

you can feel your heart pounding in your chest and how it reverberates throughout the rest of your body. you can hear it in your ears, heating you from head to toe, feel its pulse through your throbbing cunt as you watch sephiroth shed the rest of his clothes, starting with his jacket. 

he has always adored calling you angel but you were constantly reminded of his ethereal beauty and were convinced, truly and totally, that he was the actual angel here. or so much more than that, you thought as you watched long and thick fingers against pale skin and dark cloth, pulling down his pants and underwear in the same movement, lifting over the unbelievable length of his cock before sliding down his thighs and hitting the ground with a dull thud.

yes, so much more. your breath caught at the sight of your husband in the moonlight, his flushed mushroom tip leaking on his abdomen, every dip and curve of muscle and inch of skin you know is soft to the touch despite how marred it is from years of war and battle. cat-like eyes that shine and swirl with devouring, all consuming, love and devotion. a god among men but with the way he worshiped you, you were always his equal, regardless of whether you believed it yourself.

even in his much larger grasps his cock looks big and your mouth waters at the remembrance of the weight of it on your tongue as he pumps it slowly once, twice, with heaving breaths as he crawls back over to you. 

truthfully, he is as exhausted as you worry he is. he knows he is but this time apart from you has taken more of a toll on him than the tiredness could. all he wants is to be with you, his precious wife, and now you are finally underneath him, pliant and sweet and needing him just as much as he does you. nothing could keep him from you.

you lift your hips to help him slide your panties down your legs, the wetness of them trailing along your skin and deliciously evident to sephiroth in the dim light.

“so wet for me,” he purrs and sucks in a sharp breath as he taps your clit with his cock head again and again, a wet, lewd, noise filling the air. 

your essence is slick and drooling down his length, onto his hand at the base of his cock the more he slides it along your slit until it catches at your entrance and he sinks into your tight hole just a little more. he nearly collapses on top of you, the last of his weight held up by his forearm near your head and is joined by his other that cradles your cheek and brings you to his lips once more.

he takes his time sheathing fully himself inside your velvety walls, swallowing each of your whimpers and murmurs of his name the deeper he delves into you with each roll of his hips and the pleasurable ache between your legs from the stretch makes your body burst with the flames he controls so well.

the way sephiroth sighs your name as he stills inside of you, now completely enveloped by you and letting his forehead rest on yours, is like the most beautiful and sinful melody. one that stirs you to your core and makes you cling to him like you needed reassurance he was really there. your fingers sink into the soft flesh of his back and the strands of hair that spill over his frame and shoulders, your legs squeezing around his hips so he might not slip from your grasp.

when he finally starts to move, his thrusts are slow and deep, barely pulling out of you before he’s reaching deeper than before, the thick vein on the underside of his cock rubbing and throbbing against your walls. you’re so full of him, in every way you can possibly think of. every thought is only of him, each breath heady with his scent, everywhere your bodies touch pressing you further into the plush mattress and keeping you right underneath him, right where he needs you, where you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

you’re so tight around him, taking him perfectly, and moaning his name with a particularly deep roll of his hips that has him thinking he won't last much longer. you could bring him to his knees with your smile alone but like this..

“oh, seph~”

“say my name again,” his voice is low and husky with desire and laced with tiredness but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t want to stop. he needs to be as close to you as possible.

you do, over and over at the drugging feeling of him making love to you, filling you like you were made for each other, like the missing piece of your soul you couldn’t go without. you can feel the tautness of his muscles when he’s so very deep and your walls squeeze around him in white hot pleasure, pulling him in deeper, begging for more. 

“seph.. mmm.. please -  sephiroth!!”

you gasp his name as he grabs ahold of your leg and brings it up to his chest, still thrusting in and out of you as he easily maneuvers you so you’re laying on your side and without sliding out of you, he takes the place behind you, pressing your back against his chest with the hand that snakes underneath you and presses on the space below your breasts underneath your shirt.

he gingerly guides your leg back down, soaking in the feeling of your soft skin under his palm and this new angle with you in his embrace. his pace remains unhurried and overwhelming at the same time; you whine each time he pulls his hips back, feeling unbearably empty despite how much just his tip splits you open, and cling to his arms around you desperately, mewling and writhing in his hold when he pushes back into you slowly and fluidly, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that has you burning and trembling. 

“look at you.. my beautiful darling.. i love you,” his voice is hot and heavy in your ear, a seductive purr that breaks the hold on the tightness below your belly. a rare curse leaves his lips, “fuck - you always take me so well.” his hold on you tightens, keeping you in place as his thrusts become less paced and more desperate, not able to retract from your heat, but bringing you down on his cock more and more.

your voice cracks around his name on your tongue, your pretty pussy fluttering around his length and he stills inside of you to feel every last squeeze as you milk him for all he’s worth.  

“just like that angel, take me..” 

you’re still throbbing around him, his release plentiful and sticky, unable to be kept all inside of your cunt with you so full of his cock but he doesn’t seem to mind the messiness between your legs and keeps you held close even after you’ve both come down from your highs. 

nuzzling his nose into your hair, you feel his weight sag against you and the expanding of his chest with the deep inhale he takes that’s wafting with sex and your sweet scent and that melts the remnants of his strength, what little of it had been getting him through these last few days. none of it mattered anymore now that he was home with you. 

“seph?” you ask, feeling his breath fall into a steadiness that reminds you of when he’s sleeping in your arms without a worry.

“mm?”

“let me clean us up,” you offer, wanting to take care of him, though he hadn’t had you ever do so before. cleaning you up after was a duty and privilege he took very seriously, as if he needed to care for you in that way.

you try to wiggle from his hold, shivering at the over stimulating movement of his half hard cock still sheathed in your cunt, but he doesn’t budge and you aren’t strong enough to escape, even if you were to give it an honest effort.

“stay like this with me for a little longer,” his voice sounds so full of sleep and boyish. it makes your heart stutter and your cheeks warm.

you can’t deny him. you don’t think you’d ever be able to. so you give in to your own tiredness, fitting perfectly in the curled up space of his chest and thighs when you snuggle closer, letting the weight of him surrounding you, inside of you, drift you into sweet and steamy dreams featuring your soldier.

when you wake, moonlight still fills the room but the mess between your legs is gone, the sheets are clean and your husband holds you so impossible close, the warm metal of his wedding band clinking against your own as you lace your fingers together and fall back asleep to the sound of his steady heart in your ears.

main masterlist

[skufdaddyswansea]

Mouthwashing, Dual Protagonists, and Captain Curly

While the vast majority of Mouthwashing is shown from Jimmy's perspective, the events leading up to the Tulpar's crash usually follow Curly. There are several interesting reasons for this, but there's one reason in particular that I'd like to focus on.

By setting Jimmy and Curly up as dual protagonists, we're invited to draw comparisons between them. Not only are they the lenses through which we view the story, they pass the role of Captain back and forth between their chapters.

It's easy to feel sympathy for Curly, given the state he spends the larger part of the game in. It can also be easy to gloss over his more subtle shortcomings when measuring him up against Jimmy.

In this post, I want to take a closer look at Curly's character. And more specifically, how he relates to one of the game's most obvious themes.

Is Curly able to deal with the consequences of his actions? Does he realize his own failures and how they harm the people around him? What does he do with the power he's granted over others?

Does Curly take responsibility?

Jimmy's fixation here gives us a good jumping-off point. It's certainly possible that he's only really been told this once or twice, but because he's Jimmy he's blown it out of proportion out of spite. It's also possible he's entirely making it up because he's projecting, but I think the former is more likely if anything.

And, if I had to take a guess where he heard it from, I'd put my money on The Pony Express itself.

In the eyes of The Pony Express, a "great leader" isn't someone diligent or able to meet the needs of his crew. The real reason Curly was able to rise to the top of the ladder and become captain is because he gets the job done without rocking the boat.

I'm establishing all this because I think it's worth examining by what metric he's being judged. Because, while it may be Jimmy who most often digs this point up, Curly doesn't disagree with him. Even in the depths of his ennui, it's important to him that not only is he the Captain, but a good one at that.

When comparing the two, that can again seem difficult to argue against. Jimmy is quick to lash out and shift blame. His resentment and insecurities often drive him to pick fights. Curly prefers to avoid conflict, but knows his position doesn't always allow him to do so. He tries to pick his battles, but when he has to get involved he focuses on de-escalating the situation.

But although their similarities are few, they do exist. And they greatly influence the narrative. Because it is from their shared selfishness, callousness, and cowardice that the entire story is born.

It's time to address the elephant in the room. We can't draw any conclusions about Curly's nature, his character, his role in the story, and his relationship to its themes without digging into his handling of Anya's assault, and the chain of events that follow.

I find it interesting that we never see the initial conversation Anya has with Curly about the assault. We simply know that she confided in him. He is the Captain, after all. The crew is his responsibility.

The thing is, we don't really need to know the exact conversation they shared, because we can imagine it went quite similarly to their conversation about her pregnancy.

She tells him how scared she is. She fears for her life. It never even occurred to him that she was upset about anything other than losing her job. He swears to her that everything will be fine. They'll fix this. All he has to do is talk to Jimmy.

He does not talk to Jimmy.

Maybe the first time he really did intend to. He just needed time. Jimmy has always had... struggles. If we want to, we can be generous to Curly, we can assume his old problems were much less vile. Otherwise, he would have never pulled the strings to get him this job, never put him in a position of power over vulnerable people. Right? But now, this was whole new beast altogether. Because he and Jimmy go way back, he had to process this, figure out what he was even supposed to say.

But at the same time, The Pony Express had just gone gone under. He'd been struggling with dissatisfaction and indecision for so long, and now his hand has been forced. He has his own problems. And Anya seems fine, doesn't she? If she hadn't said anything, he'd never have even known there was anything wrong. It just doesn't seem that important.

Anya talks to Jimmy herself.

She's scared, she fears for her life. But now she knows now that Curly won't defend her, nor give her the means to defend herself. Still, he promises her, they'll fix this. He just has to talk to Jimmy.

Things are different now. He can't sit by and wait for things to work out anymore. After all, it's not only her problem anymore.

Now it's Curly's problem too. How is he supposed to find another job with this on his record? There's only one other person on this ship who understands what he's going through.

He talks to Jimmy.

And he understands. Not that what he did was wrong, of course. Not that he'd done something horrific, irreversible, cruel. But that it now had consequences, and that he wouldn't suffer them alone.

Curly made his decision. He chose his paper-thin illusion of peace and his eroding friendship with Jimmy over the safety and well-being of his crew. And when it all came tumbling down, he decided it was better to bury them all under the rubble than to face the struggle to rebuild.

If Jimmy hadn't been there, hadn't been his co-pilot, Curly almost certainly would not have been able to bring himself to actually follow through with something so selfish and reckless.

But Jimmy was there, and Curly made sure of that.

So, it's time to ask again. Does Curly take responsibility?

Well, yes.

But it's too little, too late.

As much as Mouthwashing is about Jimmy fighting furiously against the consequences of his actions, it is also about Curly being forced to watch them unfold anyway. His silence and inaction, once a choice, are inflicted upon him by his mangled body.

Jimmy may have crashed the ship, but Curly gave him the keys. And so it's fitting in the end that Curly is made to take the full weight of responsibility by the man who he helped avoid it so many times.