#unique command words for dogs

[cutebarkingcat]

Common dog commands for beginners.

Training your dog with basic commands is essential for building a strong bond and ensuring a well-behaved companion. Here are some common dog commands for beginners that will help you establish effective communication and control over your furry friend: Sit: “Sit” is one of the fundamental commands. It teaches your dog to remain seated until you give them permission to move. Hold a treat close…

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Dick Grayson used to be Dani Fenton

You can see it in the way he flips in the air, almost flying. You can see it in the way he switches between languages. Accents aren’t a problem. It’s almost like he’s lived there for longer than 2 weeks like he claims. You can see it in the way he celebrates with the locals, as if he’s living, laughing and dancing like he’s been there before. You can spot it in the way he handles spicy food, and isn’t scared to try new things. He can handle the weird, unique, and cultural. You can see it in the way he fights for justice and protection, because someone she used to know had the same mission. You can see it in the way he cares for his siblings; Dani’s family did the same for her. You can spot it with the way she forgives, after all, once upon a time, Danny forgave her too. You can see it in the way he fought a for freedom, she had to do that once.

Bruce Wayne used to be Danny Fenton

You can see it in the way he puts on the cowl, hands shaking, but his crusade isn’t over yet. You can see it in the way he cares for his family, even if he doesn’t show it the way he should. You can see it in the way he can handle the cold gotham nights without a shiver. You can hear it in the way his voice commands, as if his words could knock down a building with a scream. You can(‘t) see it in the way he blends in with the shadows seamlessly. You can see it in the way he relaxes on the watchtower, overlooking the void of space. You can see it in the way he gets up, because if he doesn’t keep fighting, who will?

Cassandra Cain used to be Jazz Fenton

You can spot it in the way she reads people, a lifetime of psychology helps. You can see it in the way she’s always there, because once she wasn’t and her brother died. You can see it in the way she fights with a purpose, because she finally has the skills and courage to help. You can see it in the way she’s always ready to listen and bear your stress, because no one did that when she was struggling. You can see it in the way she protects, because she was once protected, and she is now returning the favor. You can see it in her determination as she faces the rouges of Gotham without fear of death, because death is not the end.

Tim Drake used to be Tucker Foley

You can see it in his hands that fly across a keyboard like he was born to type. You can see it in the way he keeps his gadgets on hand, he never knows when he might need them. You can see it in the way he helps, because that was all he could do. You can see it in his stubbornness, after all, someone had to convince Danny to let him help. You can see it in the way he solves cases, because he was the only one who could. You can(‘t) spot it in the way he hides, after all, he can’t exactly fly. You can see it in the way he downs coffee like he needs it to live, spending the night fighting ghost and rouges doesn’t exactly give you a good nights sleep. You can see it in the way he can assess for danger, after all, the last time he didn’t he watched his best friend die.

Damian Wayne Al Ghul used to be Dan Phantom

You can see it in the way he hesitated before killing. You can see it in the way he was desperate to be loved. You can see ut in the way he’s determined to keep everyone alive, because he didn’t do that right the first time. You can see it in the way he patrols with Jon, because he finally has someone to fight rouges with again. You can see it in the way he cares for animals. Animals don’t deserve the cruel fate life has given them. You can see it in the way he fights, desperate to prove his family’s trust, love and forgiveness was worth it. You can see it in the way he cares for Titus, who reminds him of a certain green dog. You can see it in the way he never cuts corners, last time he did he watched everyone he loved die. He will not make the same mistake again.

They might not remember who they were, but they will soon.

Lazarus Water has a habit of bringing back old lives…

[stoat-party]

Big fan of The Charon Situation being just so incurably screwed up. If ever there were a person equipped to have full control over an adult man’s free will, it’s definitely not the Lone Wanderer. Even the most educated, well-meaning, and genuinely righteous LW couldn’t handle the responsibility. She’s a teenager raised in an insular totalitarian ant farm who’s suddenly been thrust into a world with no authorities, no guidance.

Which creates a wonderful dynamic with Charon. If Ahzrukhal is to be believed, he was raised this way - he never had the chance to be an adult, taking risks, shouldering responsibility, gaining independence. His parents probably weren’t in the picture for long. I imagine his lack of agency causes him to be emotionally immature sometimes - how can you learn to solve problems like an adult if all the adults in your life treat you like a weapon or a dog or a houseplant?

This guy has to be so screwed up in every way. According to the game guide, he just doesn’t sleep?? Or Azzy never let him sleep? He has that idiosyncratic formal speech pattern, he worries a lot, and the only personal detail we know about him is that guns make him happy. He also kind of openly hates the player’s guts sometimes (he’s sarcastic when given certain commands, is joyfully mean about the GECK, and basically sentences you to death in the non-canon base game ending). No matter how hard the LW tries, some damaged part of him will always resent her authority. She could be a thousand times kinder, fairer, and more just than all his previous employers combined, but she’s still one of them. He still doesn’t have free will.

That power is illegitimate for a reason. There’s no way not to misuse it eventually, especially for a teenager with endless stress and trauma of her own. You’re fighting and you tell him to shut up so you can have the last word. You get a significant other and he gets left home with the dog some nights. You take a quest path he doesn’t approve of and he has to grit his teeth and go along with it.

It’s not fair, can never be fair, and that’s the perfect dynamic to explore. Because as much as he hates her, he loves her too. She literally saved him from Hell on earth, gave him the opportunity to be a force for good. He’s not dumb, he knows that the problem is the contract, not her. Over the years they’ll mature together and learn how to fix a lot of these problems. There are so many unique challenges to creating a healthy relationship out of… that.

(A lot of writers have the contract get destroyed, especially for 😉 reasons. There’s nothing in the game indicating that can’t happen, and it works fine for their purposes. I just think it’s more fun for it to be a continuous obstacle.)

[under-lore]

The effects of LOVE are quite overstated.

It has been quite frequent to see the concept of LOVE mentioned by Sans in his judgments being interpreted as a force progressively depriving the person possessing it of all empathy or judgement until they are rendered into practical killing machines whilst approaching the cap of 20.

Whilst there are some truths to part of these concepts, interestingly, extrapolating implicit data from the game suggests that the effects LOVE have on a character's personality, whilst existing, are not as significant as they are generally believed to be.

Let's do a proper analysis of what we can say of LOVE's effects based only on the in-game content :

First, aside from Sans' words about it, do we dispose of any clear cut examples of changes relating to LV to analyse ?

That might seem like a silly question, but some of the lines that are often attributed to LV-induced personality changes turn out to not actually be LV-dependent once you check the game's code.

For instance, the narration of the bag of dog food is decided through kill count, not LV, meaning that it possible for instance to get the 'pessimistic line' despite not gaining any LOVE, and thus, this line cannot be attributed to changes related strictly to LV gain and isn't very useful to us here.

Actually, the amount of direct evidence we see of it having any effect at all which we can be certain off is quite small. But such a thing does exist via interactions relating to this dummy :

LV1 :

LV2+ :

LV5+ :

LV 8+ :

The only factor involved in deciding which of these lines will appear after deciding to punch the dummy is LOVE, it is notably distinct from other similar interactions like those mentioned above which tend to be governed by some variation of a kill count or a check regarding wether particular characters were killed.

As similar LV can be reached through killing various amount of monsters or varieties of monsters, unique or not, no equivalence can be built between the required LV for each of those interactions and particular character(s) or amount of monsters required to be killed to reach said LV.

We can thus only take the code of the game at face value and conclude that those changes are strictly caused by changes dependent on the influence of the LV we've gathered in our route so far.

The first pattern that can be established is that the narration in the left column reports Frisk punching the dummy with increasing levels of strength following our command as LV increases.

In the right column, there is a split between the four lines in the middle regarding the way the narration reports it.

The first two lines are narrated in the more common style, notably, explicitly reminding us that the actions or thoughts presented are Frisk's by refering to them as "you" as the subject of the sentence.

Those first two lines describe Frisk going from regret to a form of hesitant apathy regarding the fact that they've just punched a dummy as LV grows.

The latter two lines, however, mark a change in the narration type.

The "you" is dropped, and the thoughts presented are instead presented in a declarative form. This form is often used for first person affirmations, but can also be used outside of it in order to showcase a strong emotionally-driven reaction.

This ambiguity is particularly relevant here, as it blurs the line between wether those thoughts are Frisk's, the narrator's, or both. A detail that gains much importance under the NarraChara theory.

That being said, this nuance leads to a similar conclusion regarding LOVE in either case :

If the thoughts are fully Frisk's, then the last lines have Frisk moving from a hesitant apathy to a confident one before ultimately "feeling good". This would stay in line with the previous pattern.

(Although it is worth nothing that the "feel good" part may be at least partially due to a kind of natural endorphin release in Frisk's body from the physical exercise of "punching at full force", and thus could be only indirectly due to LV.)

If NarraChara is taken into account, then this would mean that this transformation in the tone of the narration in the last lines is due to LV related changes on Chara. And that this ambiguity in the phrasing of who those feelings belong to may indicate that the same observations we've just made on Frisk previously would apply to them similarly.

(Note : Given that the game code and files suggests that Chara and Frisk share their statistics, them both being affected by this same LV count would be coherent.)

In the official japanese version of the game, those lines for the dummy are mostly similar. However, the first two lines of the left column are a bit less distinct from each other, and the narration phrasing ambiguity seems to begin on the 2nd line of the right column rather than the 3rd.

Okay, so, what's wrong about the common perception, then ?

So far, it seems that LV does have some kind of trend that leads to growing apathy regarding the suffering of others and more aggressive actions being taken as a result of identical stimuli as it increases. That doesn't sound too far off ?

Well, sort of, but careless extrapolation made from those basic ideas have led to the emergence of theories and interpretations that treat those effects as being more consistent, generalised, and effective than can hold up to the scrutiny of our known cases through aggressive neutral routes.

Here is what i mean :

In some of the more aggressive variants of the neutral route, it is possible to attain a really high LOVE that comes close to what we see in the genocide route. Comparison between those routes and the genocide one, or sometimes content from these neutral routes themselves, can help show us incoherencies in some of those popular interpretations regarding how much difference LV really makes.

The first one that comes to mind is a popular one among 'Chara Defenders', suggesting that Chara's openly aggressive actions & narration which are specific to the genocide route in particular would really be a result of "corruption" induced by the LV-related changes which we would have forced onto them.

How well does this theory hold up through the aggressive neutral routes ?

Well...

Not very well.

To make a 'short' list :

Chara's "corruption" in genocide would generally begin to show as soon as LV3 at the end of the Ruins, however, they show no particular signs of this "corruption" in any neutral routes despite being able to reach much higher LV's of say, 14 near the end of the game.

It is possible to arrive at the end of the Ruins (or other areas) whilst having the same LV as in genocide during a neutral route, yet Chara shows none of those "corruption" lines in those cases either.

It is possible to finish many areas in the genocide route whilst having a lower/higher LV than usual by only fighting particular monsters who give you more/less EXP than average, yet none of Chara's genocide lines are changed to account for this lower of higher LV.

It is possible to abort the genocide route at many points by sparing a particular monster or failing to reach a kill count. When this happens, Chara's "corruption" lines suddenly disappear although the LV doesn't.

This still happens even if Chara's LV would have remained the same wether the monster was killed or not. Thus the lack of extra LV from the spared monter cannot explain this difference.

The aggressiveness shown by Chara does not seem to correlate with their growth in LV. For instance, they treat Toriel more harshly than Papyrus despite a past connection between Chara and Toriel and a lower LV at the time of that encounter.

Regarding some interpretations of the final genocide scene : Why would Chara oppose us for what we did at this point in time ? Shouldn't they still be "corrupted" ? The files at this stage still continue to list our LV as 20 indicating that they should.

Similarly, regarding some interpretations of the soulless pacifist route : If their previous behavior came from corruption, why would Chara kill at this stage or follow up on their previous plan ? By now our LV has long been reset to 1 and said corruption should no longer be in effect.

For all these reasons, it would not be coherent for the peculiarly aggressive behavior shown by Chara during the genocide route to be strictly caused by LV-induced changes.

To be fair, this time some minimum amount of LV is required to progress through the route and access many of those lines, meaning that a minor impact of said required LV cannot be ruled out, but this does mean nevertheless that the primary reason as to why Chara behaves this way in genocide is not related to their LV.

Actually, once you remove from consideration all those things, what you are left with in the rest of the genocide route is a Chara that hardly seems all that impacted by LV at all despite having a very high one.

In New Home, they still display some hints of emotional reactions in spite of a LV of 19.

And throughout the whole genocide route, NarraChara continues going through the regular encounters with the same jokes or sarcasm-filled comments as they would in any other route (If you take the time to ACT a bit or read the narration before killing that monster.) Once again, even with a LV of say, 15.

That doesn't make the very high LV's seem like they turn one into that much of a mind-numbed killing machine does it ?

Okay... Well, what about Frisk, then ? Our other example ?

There are some more narrations out there who can bring us a bit more information about Frisk :

The Sans fight can only be triggered if all previous checks of the genocide route have all been properly met up to this point. This means that it is not possible to start this fight at any other LV than 19, as the NEO fight is scripted to send you to that LV if the criteria for Sans are met.

Therefore, the narration of the Sans fight talks about a Frisk that necessarily has a very high LV of 19.

And yet...

Even at this point, Frisk does not seem to be immune to thoughts regarding the morality of the actions their body has undertaken. It quite literally appears to weigh on them.

This isn't a one-off case either :

If the genocide route is aborted in Hotland, Mettaton NEO has some special dialogue that goes in the same direction :

he says it quite clearly :

And, the same thing also applies regarding the regular encounters too. The ACTs Frisk can take and their behavior whilst executing them remain unchanged compared to a pacifist route, even during the end-stages of genocide in Hotland.

Of course, it isn't like we could have expected Toby to adapt the ACTs and narration of all encounters to vary depending on LV either, that would have been very tedious to code, but such a pronounced absense of any change is definitely noteworthy.

This all leads us to a few conclusions.

It is correct that LV can affect one's personality to some extent, but :

The effects of LV are not consistent through time & situations, they show up quite sporadically. Most of the time, you could hardly tell the difference between someone with high LV or merely LV1 during an average interaction.

Even having an extremely high LV does not dehumanise you. One can still feel emotions and conserve proper judgment or capacity for self-reflection.

The growth in LV magnifies the impact of its effects when they do manifest, but it does not seem to alter the frequency of such events.

It is not possible for LV to be the determining factor in Chara's behavior during the genocide route.

As Sans originally said : LV is above all a capacity to hurt, not a permanent necessary degradation of perception.

[cherryredstars]

HELLO DADDIES!!HELLO DADDIES!!

if u can, can u plspls do like Graves (and Soap maybe) on how would they treat u before they start crushing??

thx very much cherry 😘😘🍒🍒 have a good day!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pairings: Phillip Graves x gn!reader, John "Soap" MacTavish x gn!reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I miss my COD babies!!!

Unedited

Phillip Graves

This man is totally indifferent to anyone and everyone outside of his Shadows. Sorry, love, but he probably didn't know you even existed until he started showing an interest in you. Doesn't matter if you've worked in the same base for years or have been on missions together. The second he's finished talking to you and the mission is complete, he's wiping any memory of you to make room for more important things.

He's a busy man, making plans to betray his own people under the command of General Shepard. He doesn't have time to remember any and every unremarkable face that won't be important once he and his men go rogue. Don't take it personally when you have to constantly remind him what your name is and that you have, in fact, worked together before.

Takes a remarkable amount of effort for him to memorize your name once Shepard informs him that you'll be added to their plan of betrayal. He isn't exactly sure what your role will be in the grand scheme of things. As far as he's concerned, you might just be another disposable pawn. Not worth getting to know you if you'll just end up dead anyways. However, he will admit that you would make a pretty scapegoat- for the five seconds he remembers your face, that is.

Once he realizes he likes you, it's like a switch clicks in his brain. One second he is horribly unaware of who you are, the next he is too aware of your existence. Drives him crazy that he could forget a face as sweet as yours. Your name is now permanently etched into his brain. Suddenly, you are far too important to be a throwaway soldier to their cause.

Eyes that once skimmed over you are now locked onto you. Graves finds himself hovering near your seat during secret briefings, his hands subconsciously coming to brush against your shoulders as he gives out orders. Well placed pats and squeezes that leave him craving more. He's the definition of "A fell first, B fell harder".

Definitely takes advantage of the fact that he has the most unique accent out of everyone else. Sure 141 has their different posh British accents and Scottish slang, the Los Vaqueros have their rumbling Spanish words that roll off the tongue, but none of them can replicate his sweet country tang. Drives him crazy how his accent affects you, throwing out random southern sweet talking to watch each country-laced endearment heat your cheeks. Likes fluctuating his voice, easily going from a higher pitch to a lower pitch to watch how the shift in tone has you squirming in front of him.

Don't blame him if he starts throwing hints at you about his dream of owning a small little ranch in the American countryside with a few cattle and farm dogs to tend to. It's only a coincidence that the only thing missing is a sweet thing to take care of all the housework while he works the fields and does all the outdoor labor. Did he mention how good he looks sweaty and shirtless with nothing but a cowboy hat to shield him from the sun and a pair of worn out levi's disappearing into a nice pair of cowhide boots? No, well you can always experience it first-hand if you wanted to.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The biggest flirt you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. Johnny is not scared to work his Scottish charm on you any chance he gets, even if he only sees you as a teammate. He finds it hilarious when he says something that leaves you absolutely baffled or causes you to roll your eyes.

Strong believer in the fact that you would have the hardest time figuring out if he likes you or not because he acts completely the same before and after he discovers he has a thing for you. The only difference is that he’s more of a show-off and way more energetic near you, which is hard to believe is possible, but it is.

He’s super friendly, of course. Super energetic and outgoing, always coming to you and Ghost when he’s in need of a good sparring or a buddy to go to the mess with for supper. The three of you are practically glued to the hip- Ghost a mostly unwilling participant- to the point where most people see you as best friends.

Don’t be surprised when he drops off the grid when he’s on leave, though. For all the nagging and clinginess he has on base, you’d be surprised how radio silent he is once he’s away from base. Don’t go obsessing over your phone waiting for a stray call or text from Johnny, you aren’t getting anything unless it’s a clear emergency or he’s heading back to base for deployment. Calling and texting outside the base is reserved for long time boot camp friends, family, and his Birdie, sorry. Looks like you don’t meet the requirements just yet.

This man is a kicked puppy whenever he isn't near you after he realizes he likes you. Suddenly, Ghost is always way too busy with whatever lieutenants do to spar and step away from his mountains paperwork to go to the mess. Looks like you're the only person who can help him pass the time on base. Don't worry about being too tired to leave your barrack, he didn't realize how tired he was until you said you were! Did he mention that he makes a great body pillow? You should test it out to see if the rumors are true.

Suddenly, his smiles and teasing looks are way more charming than normal. Don't ask why he's giving you constant bedroom eyes as he rests his chin in the palm of his hand, just let the intended effect wash over you. Promise that even though he's not listening to a single word you're saying that you still have his full attention. If you saw his face instantly switch to a look of mourning after one of the others joked about the two of you being best of friends, just know it's your fault because you didn't defend his honor by saying the two of you are way more than friends (despite the fact the two of you aren't even in the ball park of a talking stage).

Right before leave, Johnny is practically stepping on your heels. He's blabbering about meeting up during leave and going to a nice little pub, have a drink or two in your casuals. What's that, did he forget that the two of you don't live even remotely close to each other? Silly Birdie, didn't you know he's happening to come down for a visit. He's never been to your area before, maybe you can be his tour guide. You're too busy to hangout during leave? Well, have his personal number then! He's always up for a chat when you have the time. Don't keep him waiting for a text or a call, you might just make him die from the loneliness!

[moresinfulmockingbird]

Very excited for this blog!

I would like to request Kafka and Arlecchino breaking a captive reader and turning them into new recruits.

BREAKING A CAPTIVE | Arlecchino & Kafka

PAIRING: Arlecchino & Kafka x Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, NSFW, Sub!Reader, Dom!Character(s), Dubcon, Corruption, Mind Break, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Crying, Begging, Strap-Use (Arlecchino), Praising (Arlecchino), Fingering (Kafka), Marking (Kafka),

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am not okay about these two. Why do they need to be so !!! Uh, I love them. Also dedicated to @teethoftheeditor.

✧ ARLECCHINO

HEARING THE familiar sound of heels against stone dancing across the halls of the dungeon made you shake in anticipation. Fear was struck in your heart for what was to come, but there was also excitement. Excitement that grew everyday after these... sessions.

Arlecchino's eyes were predatory and cold as she peered into your cell, seeing you huddled into a corner, arms wrapped protectively around yourself. She tsked at the sight. You were still so fearful even after all this time, still holding up high walls. But she was making progress, she was just chipping away slowly, and elegantly at them.

"Up." Arlecchino's commanding voice made you flinch as she entered your cell, her heels clacking closer and closer towards you. "Did you hear me? I said, up."

You whimpered as she wrapped a hand around your arm, hoisting you up to your feet effortlessly. You squeezed your eyes closed in fear, not wanting to meet those eyes that haunted your dreams. Oh you were in far more trouble now, hiding those eyes that she dearly loved, especially when they swimmed with fear...

"Look at me." Arlecchino's voice was filled with venom, her other hand reaching up to roughly take hold of your chin, forcing your head up towards her.

You whined at the force fullness she used, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you reluctantly stared into hers. You would always be haunted by her eyes, the uniqueness of them driving you closer and closer to madness.

"Good girl." The way she mumbled that had your heart soaring, and you couldn't help but clench your thighs together, something that didn't go unnoticed by her. "Hm, does that make you excited, being called a good girl?"

There was a hint of amusement in Arlecchino's hauntingly beautiful eyes, and you couldn't stop yourself from nodding your head. She hummed approvingly, letting her tight grip on your chin loosen ever so slightly, her sharp nails scratching affectionately at your skin.

"It's been a bit since we had one of our... chats. I suppose I can't blame you for being so needy." Arlecchino muttered, eyeing the way you continued to clench your thighs together. "On your knees."

You were quick to obey her words, sinking onto your knees before her, staring up at her like a dog begging for food. Arlecchino felt her own body heating up at the sight. What right did you have to look so fucking pretty like that? She had to ruin you, and she had to do it quickly.

It didn't take long for the Knave to have you on your hands and knees, face pushed against the stone ground of your cell. You were clawing uselessly at the stone below you, seeking some sort of grip to support yourself on. It made the woman fucking her strap into you from behind laugh.

"Such a good girl, taking my cock so well." Arlecchino purred, her hands holding your hips up, sharp nails digging into your soft flesh causing you to cry out in pain as they broke your skin. You always were pretty when you bled.

"I- I c-can't!" You cried out pleadingly, trying to beg the woman to have mercy on you, to just let you rest for a minute.

"Yes you can, and you will." Arlecchino growled, her hot breath fanning the back of your neck as she leaned over your back, pressing her lips against your skin and nipping at it here and there.

With a sharp thrust from her, your body jolted and you let out a scream, your cunt throbbing in pain as you once again were forced to another orgasm. The woman didn't even bat an eye, continuing to fuck you even as you shook and cried, recovering from the intense orgasm only to be brought to another one a minute later.

So pretty like this... all ruined and crying under Arlecchino as she had her way. It was a sight she was drunk on, one she'd always dream about when she was away from you for too long. The tears running down your face made you look like an Archon in her eyes; truly a gift she was undeserving of yet here she was taking it over and over again.

By your ninth orgasm, you were nothing but whining mess. You couldn't speak, words a foreign language to you. Your mind was simply blank, focused on taking Arlecchino's strap over and over again. It was such a pleasurable torture, one you were addicted to by the time it would begin.

It was these moments that you were the perfect little pet Arlecchino wanted. One that wasn't afraid of her, but rather accepted everything she does. This is what she wanted from you, for you to be unafraid of her and be the obedient pet she wanted you to be. Just a few more of these chats.... and you'd finally fall victim to the shell of the person she wanted you to be.

✧ KAFKA

YOU LET out a whimper as the door to the room you were being held in was opened, allowing the hallway light outside to bleed into the dark room. You winced at the light, squinting your eyes as you took in the familiar silhouette in the doorway. You felt excitement and fear strike you quickly at the sight, and you began to fight against your bindings.

"Excited are we?" Kafka's voice rang through the room as she walked in, closing the door behind her, before settling her gaze back onto you. "I leave you for only a few hours and your already needy for me again?"

You whine at her words, shaking your head quickly as you try to deny her words, your voice muffled by the gag you wore. But even though you denied it, that needy feeling in your gut was prominent, telling you that not every part of you wasn't needy for her. Though you'd still deny it, you wouldn't admit such a thing to yourself. Not yet at least.

"Still acting tough?" Kafka let out a humourous chuckle, shaking her head lightly as she approached you, moving to lean down and brush her fingers against your cheek, making you flinch. "I thought you would have given in by now... guess I underestimated you, huh?"

You don't say anything, only casting your eyes away from her, making Kafka frown. She always hated when you acted like this, when you'd go quiet and not admit that you did enjoy whatever she did to you. She'd just have to force your excitement and love for it like usual, not that she minded.

"Doesn't matter anyway, I'll get you to fold sooner than later." Kafka nonchalantly stated, slightly shrugging her shoulders before leaning over to untie you from the wall.

Before you could make any sort of attempt indicating escape, Kafka's hand was firmly wrapped around your arm, keeping you in place. She gave you a look of warning before dragging you towards the bed that she purposely had placed in your bland room. You knew what was coming, and this time you didn't put up a fight.

You were a moaning mess in mere minutes, back arching off the bed as Kafka thrusted her fingers in and out of you. You were already soaked by the time she had tore your underwear off, giving her no need to prep you with her fingers. You hated the fact that you were already wet for her, but your body was already a prisoner to her, it was just time for your mind to fall as well.

"So pretty, and all for me." Kafka hummed, her lips gracing over your neck, kissing gently at the fresh marks she left moments ago. "Aeons your irresistible."

You bit onto your gag, trying to suppress some of your sounds, but it was really just useless, and the moans and whines leaving your mouth were evidence of that. Kafka chuckled at your pathetic attempts, moving her head away from your neck and gazing down at you with amusement.

"Trying to contain your sounds is just futile, sweetheart." Kafka purs, and to get her point across she flexes her fingers up, hitting that special spot inside you and earning a loud cry from you. "See? Pointless."

You could feel the tears beginning to burn at your eyes, slipping down your face as your body flailed about under Kafka's touch. Her thumb was increasingly pushing down on your swollen clit, while three fingers spread you wide open, continously moving in and out. The stimulation on your cunt was beginning to get to your head, and any sensible thoughts tjat you had left, were quickly beginning to disappear.

"I wanna hear you beg," Kafka muttered, reaching her free hand up to tug your gag down to your neck, letting you suck in a gasping breath. "Be a good girl and beg for me. You'll be rewarded, I promise, if you do."

"S'to much!" You gasped, choking on moans and whines as you looked pleadingly up at the woman. "S'becoming to much! I- I can't- I can't hold-"

"You can handle it." Kafka stated, not paying attention to your useless pleas. Even if it was actually to much, she wasn't going to stop until she was satisfied. "Hold on just a bit longer, m'kay? Just beg a little more for me."

She was pushing you to your breaking point, you knew that, but you were at the point of just giving in to her. Your fighting was useless up to this point, and would letting Kafka use you whenever she pleases really be a bad thing? Your mind didn't think so.

"Please l-let me cum, I can't-" You let out a strangled moan, back arching off the bed again, pushing your hips harder against Kafka's hand, trying to sink her fingers in deeper. "I need to cum!"

"You need to cum?" Kafka repeated, her voice quiet as she moved to kiss against your ear, her smile evident against your skin. "So then cum. Cum for me, sweetheart."

It was like she pressed a button, because as soon as the words left her mouth, you froze, crying out loudly and body jolting as you let go. Kafka slowed down her thrusts as she felt your cum coat her hand. She hummed in satisfaction as you came, nuzzling her face into your neck.

It was you finished, laying breathlessly under her with a dazed look in your eyes, Kafka knew. She knew you were finally her's, and she was going to drink this up till you were absolutely nothing. Just how she wanted you to be.

ENDING NOTES: The way I wouldn't 100% mind giving control to these two...

[warsamongthestars]

Since we could always use more Clone stuffs, how bout I go through some clone names and we can all find (or have a nice review) of who got what name and what it means.

COMMANDER CODY The first named clone trooper, and the first unique clone onscreen as of Revenge of the Sith. So its only fitting we start with him. The name "Cody" originated as O'Cuidightheach, a gaelic name, and effectively, it means "Helpful" or "Helpful Person" Cody, out of universe, got his name based on old movies of Commando Cody--of which, Lucas was a fan of. In the extended Star Wars universe, Cody is a Republicized variant of the Mando'a word "Kote", which means Glory.

CAPTAIN REX Rex's name means "King" in latin. It can also refer to the Dinosaur, the Tyrannosaurus Rex. And it is also a common name for pet Dogs. Take that as you will.

LIEUTENANT JESSE Another shockingly ordinary name, and a Hebrew derived name. Coming from Ancient Greek of "Iessei", and then from Hebrew itself "Yishai". It means "Gift of God" or "God Exists" But more than likely, given that such historic-terminology does not exist in Star Wars. LT Jesse's name is more likely derived from the idiom "Give someone a Jesse"... Which means to give them a scolding or a beating.

KIX I've discussed Kix before, but I might as well do it again for posterity. Kix, is derived from Kex, the archaic english term for the plant "Hemlock". TBB fans, go wild.

HARDCASE You might assume this means that this someone who is hard-nosed and a hard nut to crack, but that isn't the case for our Hardcase. Hardcase is derived from New Zealand Slang, as An "amusing, funny, witty, or possibly strange person."

DENAL There is no specific case that I can make for Rex's early command squadmate, save that Denal is probably meant to be Denial.

BOIL While we can make jokes about the skin abrasion, it probably refers to his temper. A Boiling point, as it were.

WAXER It could be referring to someone who waxes... But, it could also refer to the term "Waxing", as it the growth of something. Given his "Glass half full" personality, perhaps its "Glass half waxing".

COMMANDER BLY The Commander of Aayla Secura's legion, and whom fired upon her during Revenge of the Sith. The term bly, a dialetcic english term, means "Likeness" or "resemblance". Means Bly literally got his name for resembling another person (Wow, no Shit). Whoever named him, basically called him the clone variant of Manny, beacuse He Man.

COMMANDER GREE Introduced in Revenge fo the Sith, as being decapitated by Yoda. While in the extended universe, he's named after animals... The term "Gree", English Obsolete, refers to either "One of a flight of steps" or "one of a stage of ranks". Dude literally got the name "Rank".

COMMANDER BACARA Introduced in Revenge of the Sith, for firing upon Kit-Mun-Di. Bacara is Romanian for Baccara, which in turn refers to Baccarat, a card game. Absolutely nobody knows where the word came from originally.

COMMANDER PONDS Retroactively intorduced in Attack of the Clones, as the Clone Commander who greets General Windu. It... It just means Pond, but pural. It probably refers to the fact that Kamino is an Ocean, and the earth's oceans are sometimes refered to as ponds in slang.

COMMANDER NEYO Revenge of the Sith. It probably is meant to mean "Neo", which means New or Young, in Ancient Greek.

COMMANDER APPO Revenge of the Sith; Marched on the Temple. Does not, in fact, outrank Rex despite himself. Appo is an obsolete english Prepostion, referring to an object as "Before", "After", "Behind" or "nearby". It derives from Latin, "Apud", which means "in the presence of" or "among" (AMOGUS?)

COMMANDER THORN Named after Thor, from Marvel. There's even an old english letter called Thorn.

COMMANDO GREGOR The name Gregor, means "Watchful" or "alert". Which, given his character, is quite ironic.

CAPTAIN HOWZER I am unable to find that name specifically, but I theorize its based off of "Howitzer", which is a firearm cannon There is a lot more clones, and I can't make a post of every one of them. But lemme know if you want me to find anyone else.

[jespardon]

Jes i will share my puppy sniper thoughts if u share yours (no pressure i just CANNOT shut up)

OKAY GUYS *cracks knuckles*

Let's talk about puppy sniper.

So let's start with our good old usual "stock" red sniper, ie the one i'm always drawing if i don't explicitly state otherwise.

So the puppy thing is both a kink and also kind of a "belief" i would say ? Not a lifestyle because it's not like Sniper is trotting around collared and referring to spy as a master or owner, but it's a position that comforts him, beyond getting him aroused. Being in the privacy of the van or a lost spot in the desert and observing the world through the eyes of a dog feels much easier than acting human, normal, somewhat acceptable to society. It helps his thoughts float better and it gives him hindsight on things.

I think he would have a fixation on leather objects and craft (hence my initial headcanon that he does cobbling) because the texture is a familiar one linked to positive emotions / experiences (both hunting/bushcrafting and the petplay). Of course he'd have a collar, and if he did i think it'd either be : 1.made by himself 2.offered by spy and thus, very high quality leather 3.bought by sniper from a reputable craftman, an authentic market or something along those lines. In any of those cases, a very unique (and thus irreplaceable) old, thoroughly worn collar. The leather fixation + puppy kink + cobbling hobby is an excellent combo for him to obsess over spy's shoes and lead to all sorts of fun shoe play 😊.

Okay now, how does it all work with (red) spy ?

I think of red spy as a prideful egotistical person (among many, many other things), so there's a thorough satisfaction in having an intimidating mercenary a whole head taller than him leashed and at his feet. I also imagine spy being much more at ease with his seductivity and queerness, his job and skills being a huge help in indulging your sexuality in the 1960's without being found out or prosecuted. Sniper, on his end, has grown up mostly in isolation until being thrusted in a violent hypermasculine environment. His already shaky social skills aren't helping him handle feeling attraction towards men. There's lotsa layers here but basically, he starts feeling attracted by the assertive, authoritative yet calm spy. Something about someone that can lead others, resolve situations through talking. Sniper is both envious of the ability and fascinated by it and spy picks up on it very quickly so of course he takes great joy in toying with it and trying to push sniper's fascination further, until of course it backfires by becoming mutual.

The relationship is super imbalanced for a long, long while; sniper is just in stupid gawking admiration at spy, while spy is only entertained by sniper's actions and seeking sexual gratification from it. Neither of them have any knowledge of "pet play" or "puppy kink" per se, but it's natural for sniper to place himself in that position where he views spy as an owner that has the obvious right to dictate him what to do, since he knows better, right ? It does take a while for Spy to figure out that oh, this is actually dog themed like, for real, which he again finds a lot of fun in pointing out to sniper to embarass him. But he does indulge in it and, begrudgingly, finds it pretty hot to have this desperate guy humping on him and whining, far from the theatrical sensual sex he's used to performing (in both senses of the word).

Sniper on his end is thrilled to have his "weird" behaviours found to be acceptable and even appealling to someone and feels (almost unwarranted) gratitude towards spy. There's a real eagerness to please and be found useful ! Praise words are his immediate weakness and, on the opposite, disappointment from spy terrifies him. He's real careful about touching and respecting boundaries, follows commands almost infaillibly to the point of embarassing himself in public if asked to (with some hard limits).

tldr

im normal about the psychology of puppy sniper

[chronicallye]

So I'm training a service dog, who is named after the Circe Saga, and I'm trying to use unique words and phrases as commands.

I'm looking for EPIC inspired commands for barking on command, laying her front half on my lap when I'm on a chair, retrieving items, and anything else you can think of.

Full speed ahead - walk forward

Come inside - go through a doorway

Away we go - get out of the car

Circe, go to your palace - go to her dog bed

[farfromstrange]

‘I Love You In Every Universe’

Chapter One: I Bet On Losing Dogs

Masterlist | List Of Installments

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Mutant!Reader

Summary: The day you lost Matt, you lost everything. There is no moving on from what Spider-Man put you through, and you plan to execute your revenge.

Warnings: ANGST, Major Character Death, blood, suicidal thoughts, mutant!Reader, evil Peter Parker, 18+ because of darker themes, multiverse (No Way Home Era), slight AU

Word Count: 5.8k

A/n: FINALLY! This took me way too long to edit. Today, we’re setting the scene for future installments, but you’re not getting all the details, even if the first 3000 words of this are somewhat a flashback. So, if you think that there is too little dialogue for a Prologue, that’s probably why. This chapter is integral to the future installments.

Read Me On AO3!

The world was silent when he died—an endless pit of nothingness, and above a sky full of stars. 

You don’t remember if it was raining. The moon was hiding behind a thick cloud, and the stars were burning, but you can’t remember if you were drowning in a river of tears or if it was the sky that broke that night. Everything else about that night, you remember quite vividly.

Hell’s Kitchen had become a battleground. The city lay at your feet in shambles; Wilson Fisk had become mayor after you tried hard to stop him, and the world fell apart. But it was his second in command, Peter Parker, who gave new meaning to the word ‘notorious’. Spider-Man infested your home like a parasite, slipping through your finger like dry sand. He knew what he was doing. He and Fisk held the city in the palms of their dirty hands, slowly crushing it like mealy little ants. 

When you met Matt Murdock, it was years back when things were still better, yet they were never perfect. He found you broken at the side of the road—or that was what it felt like, anyway. 

From the start, you have always been different. In a world where everyone wanted to be someone, your uniqueness painted a target on your back. Your nature was misunderstood by most; they either wanted to be you, or they were vying for your inevitable downfall. 

You stood out of every crowd. The target on your back remained no matter how hard you tried to turn yourself into a shrouded mystery. Eventually, you had to start running. You operated out of the dark like a criminal—a vigilante, and a mind-reader who could set the world on fire if she only tried hard enough. 

For most of your life, you were hunted. Scientists wanted to run experiments on you, tie you to a gurney, and study your brain until they understood how your abilities worked. Freaks wanted to sell you for millions to equally disturbed individuals. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were merely a scared child who grew into a terrified teenager who didn’t know any better: dead parents, dead everything, and a mind built to read those of others. 

Back then, your only instinct was blatant survival, so you ran. You ran fast and you ran far, an orphan so many would have rather seen dead than operating in the dark, but oh, you had to become something to feel like you were worth something.

When you landed in New York, beaten and alone with a bone-crushing fear of the future, the Devil found you, taking you home with him. He saved you. He picked up your pieces, glued you back together, and wrapped you in a protective glaze. All the heartbreak you’d endured, and the trauma you’d suffered getting there seemed worth it whenever he held you in his arms. 

You were Matt Murdock’s world, and he was yours. He showed you heaven and hell; he saved you from the purgatory you pushed yourself into and got you settled with a one-way ticket to paradise. After all these years, you finally found your salvation in a person.

He was your broken Catholic boy with a heart made out of gold. The universe didn’t deserve him, and yet he gave the world everything he had. He sacrificed his soul to God and his city. He prayed, he begged, and he fought hard for what he believed right at the time. 

Matt saw himself as the Devil; embodied him, too. Though in your eyes, he was an angel with an invisible halo only you could feel in every fiber of your being. His thoughts, his heart, and his soul; he gave it all to you.

You cherished him with all you could give him. It wasn’t much, but he loved you more than anyone had ever before. You were more than a mutant, more than a broken girl at the side of the road, and more than a potential test subject. With him, you finally learned what living was like—what it was supposed to feel like to be human.

The world tried to clip your wings. They took away your voice and your ability to breathe. Matt brought you back to life. He was not the love of your life; Matt Murdock was your soulmate. You lived for him. You existed for him. He was your heart, your soul, and the reason for your survival. 

It wasn’t healthy, how dependent you were on him. He made you see colors you couldn’t see with anyone else. You loved him fiercely. You loved him in a way that was pure agony. And you loved him in a way that you knew would screw you up forever.

It didn’t cross your mind that you could ever lose him. To you, Matt Murdock was immortal. He was the man you could see yourself growing old with. 

You got married in a small ceremony at the courthouse—it wasn’t just for love, it was also convenient, but he forever tied himself to you as you tied yourself to him with a golden wedding band—and you talked about maybe having children one day. A mini-you and a mini-him in your little farmhouse in the suburbs. For that, he would have left Hell’s Kitchen once it was safe enough to do so.

It was a foolish dream now that you think about it; you were foolish to think that happiness would ever be in the cards for you, but then he kissed you again, good morning and good night and in between, and all you could see was a sea of roses. 

He walked through fire (sometimes literally) for you and came back on the other side, hardly always unscathed but always alive, and always with a smile on his chapped lips. He crawled home to you even when he was broken. He crawled home to you when he was full of adrenaline. And he crawled home to you when he thought he couldn’t or wouldn’t anymore, both mentally and physically. He knew he could always come home to you, his best friend, his lover, his confidant, and soon enough, his wife.

You stitched his wounds and kissed his scars to breathe new life into him. You brought him back from the edge. You gave him something to live for. He told you that you saved him, and hearing that after getting on your knees every night, thanking him for the same thing, did something to you. It healed you from the inside out.

You kept him alive the same way he did you. You stood strong together against your enemies every night, fighting as a team. He taught you how to fight, and you taught him how to connect. Matt didn’t know what it was like not to push someone he loved away, but you made sure he understood. He connected to himself; he connected to his past, present, and future with you, and that made him a better man. 

You lost and you won, but at least you had each other to fall back on. You did it together. You did everything together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Husband and wife. Lady Red and Daredevil.

The fragile little yet oh-so-big thing you had was raw, vulnerable, yet the most tragically beautiful love affair you could have possibly had the pleasure of calling yours. And pleasure, you had plenty. Love, you had plenty. You had everything until everything was ripped from your bare hands—until the very thing sustaining you shattered on a white cloth, spilling crimson blood everywhere, and what you swore could only be pried from your cold, dead hands slipped away in a moment in time. 

You both died, in a way, but it was Matt’s body you held as he took his last breaths in the dead of a hot summer’s night. You can’t remember if it rained, but he was certainly drowning in your tears.

“He’s going to kill you,” you warned him. “Parker and Fisk are out to destroy you. If Spider-Man sees you with your guard down, he won’t hesitate.”

Matt slid his skilled fingers into his pair of leather gloves. They were worn down, but they smelled like him. You could feel the unease sizzling in the pit of your stomach—a parasite. 

“I have to do this,” he told you, his voice laden. “The bastard is ruining innocent lives in my city. I can’t stand idly by and let it happen.”

You weren’t fighting, but the statement still hung deafeningly loud in the room, hanging itself from the ceiling with a noose that was threatening to take you down with it. 

“He challenged you because he knows you’d do anything—” 

He cut  you off, “He’s underestimating me.”

You stared into his eyes. It hurt. It hurt so much. The dark cloud was heading straight for you, but he couldn’t sense it. “You almost died the last time you came face-to-face with him,” you tried again.

“So did you,” he said. “Fisk is nothing without Spider-Man behind him, and those two have done enough damage already.”

“Matt, please—”

“I have to, sweetheart. This is the only way.”

“There is always another way.”

He shook his head. “Not this time. The city is about to fall. If I let them win, there is no coming back from this. You know that.”

“At least let me come with you then,” you said. You begged him to listen, but he wouldn’t see how worried you were. “We’ve been through hell together. We can fight this war together, too.”

“No,” Matt insisted. “He will see an easy target. You mean too much to me. Spider-Man is gonna use you to get through to me. I can do this. You just have to trust me.”

“I trust you. It’s him I don’t.”

“I’m gonna talk to him, and if I have to fight him again for the whole fucking world to see, so be it.”

The words slipped you before you could stop them, cutting through the air like a sharp-edged sword. “What if you die trying?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“I don’t want to lose you!” you cried. 

You had not cried in front of him often before that night, but your walls cracked, and you broke. 

Matt cradled your face as he whispered, begging you to listen, “You won’t. I promise. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

The invisible string pulled you tighter together. Fear, anger, and desperation; he felt so many things—so many things running deeper than the ocean—but you swallowed them. 

“I’m not okay with this,” you murmured.

“I know. Here–” he guided your hands to his face, “Feel me,” he said.

You remember gasping when the floodgates opened. “I always feel you.” 

You stroked his delicate cheeks. He was here, home with you; why couldn’t he stay like that forever? Why did you have to let him go? Past, present, and future began to blur. 

I love you. He tuned out all other thoughts so you could hear him.

He was praying. He was hoping. Only a handful of times had he felt this way. You were so tightly interlaced that you could feel all of him without even trying, but that night, you tried. That night, he tuned out all of his self-deprecating thoughts. He allowed the silence of your connection to engulf him—for the city to disappear, and he allowed you in. 

I love you so much. Do you hear me? You’re everything to me. I love you.

Those three words weighed heavy like bricks on your heart. 

“Remember, three knocks,” he said aloud. “Don’t open for anyone else.”

“Three knocks,” you whispered in agreement. 

Three knocks like three words: I love you.

You read his mind, swallowing the words, but a big part of you wanted to spit them back out. You didn’t want to hear it. The universe was sending you a warning sign. 

Matt exhaled. He cupped your hands in his. The connection deepened, the string pulled tighter, and you became one. That night was the first night you saw glimpses of the future, and you didn’t want to accept it. You were such a fool to think everything could ever be fucking alright, both for you and for this magnificent force of a man you chose to call home—because home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling, and often enough, it’s a person.

He nuzzled his nose against yours. He kissed you. Softly, gently, passionately. You kissed him like you knew it would be the last time.

“I love you,” he repeated. 

The red flags waved, but you looked away. “I don’t want to say it back because you have to come back to me,” you confessed, “and this feels too much like a goodbye.”

He forced you to look at him instead. “Say it back, baby.”

“I love you,” you caved.

You shouldn’t have. You should have put up more of a fight. 

I will always come back to you. Cross my heart. He crossed his heart, but he hoped too much to die. Perhaps in not saying it out loud, he thought the truth would hurt less.

You refused to believe it until time had run out. You refused to cave until it happened. And when it happened, the city, for the first time since you’d arrived there, went completely quiet.

You followed him. Of course, you did. After a few hours of pacing the floor, you followed him. He was still in your head. You heard him from across the city, his thoughts loud and clear, and you could feel his pain like an inferno lighting up the night sky. 

When you arrived on that godforsaken rooftop though, you could only watch in horror as Spider-Man lifted the love of your life toward the sky. He wouldn’t accept your bargain. You offered yourself instead of him, but no; Peter Parker was not in the mood for bargaining. 

He lifted Matt toward the sky, and he drilled the dagger right through his chest. 

“No!” you screamed again. 

Silence. 

His blood ran through your fingers like quicksand, and sitting there, cradling Matt’s chest to yours as his heartbeat slowly faded into oblivion, you knew the end was near. The world could be so fucking unfair. You both died, but it was only his heart that stopped. You lost him that night, and your entire world stopped in an instant. 

You liked it better when he was angry with you. When he was loud, when he was laughing, even when he was just being sarcastic. You liked him better when he was alive. He turned into a ghost in your arms, forever and all eternity, and you fell face-first into the abyss. 

Maybe it was raining that night. Maybe you were being buried under the weight of your guilt and the never-ending flow of your tears. 

“I can’t…” you sobbed, tracing his cold cheek as the rain fell around you. “I can’t feel you.”

His heart stopped beating, and the invisible string pulverized. You watched it as it went with the wind. Without him. Without you. 

You screamed until your lungs gave out. Then, silence settled in. 

The night was quiet when he died; nothing but a sky full of stars and the endless black pit of death above and below you. 

The blood and his missing pulse weren’t the worst part, by far; the worst part was that you could no longer feel him, and that thought won’t ever not haunt you. 

You were certain that night. When you lost him, and you screamed your heart out, praying to a God you’ve never believed in, you swore to yourself that you would avenge him.

You were going to kill Peter Parker, and nothing in this world could ever stop you from watching this miserable motherfucker bleed to death. 

The bed shakes violently as you awaken. Dreams, so many dreams. Your nights are far from peaceful. They haven’t been for weeks. Months. What day is it? You don’t remember. 

Nightmares follow you like hunters after a fox. Your pajamas stick to your skin, and you’re sweating even though it is spring, and spring doesn’t have hot enough temperatures for you to be sweating quite like this. When you pull the comforter away in a sudden panic, the wetness seeping into your skin, there is nothing but white. No blood, no tears, just gaping emptiness in the farmhouse.

You pant heavily, dragging your nails across your skin. Your fingernails are tinted a charcoal black. In your heart, there had once been a bright red glow—like a ruby crystal sustaining your soul. You used it to channel other people’s thoughts. You could read them, you could hear them, and you could feel them. That Ruby has gone out now though; it has turned into a black smoke threatening to overtake anything it comes in contact with. 

The sun isn’t strong enough to break through the gray clouds. As you step out into the garden that stretches around your home, a gentle wind brushes through the bare branches of the dead trees. The wood is starting to splinter, turning hollow as sickness after sickness runs rampant through nature. 

You trace a finger over the poison ivy that has grown over the tombstone. The green fades, turning into a rotten brown. It dries out, and it dies right before your eyes, as do the roses you have been keeping in a vase ever since you laid a finger on the last bouquet. 

He liked the smell of roses, but you hated the look of it until Matt died, and suddenly, everything looked and smelled like a field of roses, reminding you of him. He was your daisy, your sunflower, setting fire to your freezing soul. He was sunshine, you were midnight rain. He liked to claim differently, but you wouldn’t let him. You may have been his sunshine, but out of the both of you, he shone the brightest. 

The poison ivy dies, and if you even manage to kill a plant with the word ‘poison’ in its name, what does that say about you? What has become of you; plotting a stranger’s death and killing the nature around you as you dive into books about mind-reading and dark magic to understand who you truly are? Dark magic sounds like a story out of a piece of fiction, but it’s far from that. 

You’ve known of your ability to manipulate the human mind ever since you discovered the creature hidden within you, the one who could touch another human being and see their thoughts so clearly. The one time you tried to manipulate someone, you caused them indescribably agony. You ruined their life. You broke them. You made them complicit and took all they were away from them, turning their fragile mind into ashes. That day, your fingers turned charcoal for the first time. 

If you try hard enough, you can kill him—Peter Parker. He took your husband and your city, now sitting in his ivory tower, overlooking the damage he’s done. He killed everyone and everything, even Wilson Fisk. He has taken the people of Hell’s Kitchen hostage, but no one has dared to make a move just yet, not since their beloved Daredevil disappeared off the face of the earth. With him, his Lady Red went as fast as she had come. 

You don’t want to fix what Spider-Man destroyed; you can’t get back what he took, nor do you want to, and the city doesn’t mean anything without Matt in it. 

You have to be the monster to kill another monster, only then you can join your husband in his tomb. Didn’t you vow to stay together, even in death? 

The city can burn, for all you care, but first, Peter Parker has to die. 

You scratch at the dirt in the engraving of his name. Matthew Michael Murdock. 1982 — 2023. Beloved husband and hero. 

You hate this. You hate that his grave is in your backyard, but this was the only place you knew his corpse would be safest. No one can touch him here, and you can talk to him, pretending you can still feel him. If you focus hard enough, you can still hear his voice in your head, telling you to move on. 

How could you though? How could you abandon all you’ve been through? You can fight, you can win or lose, but nothing will ever be the same again. And it is far from worth it to stay alive when he isn’t. You’ve made your decision; whether or not you’ve come to peace with it, that’s another story entirely. 

“Tonight is the night,” you murmur to the gravestone. Of course, you don’t receive an answer. 

Lately, you have been swearing to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, that there are no more tears left to shed, but every day, you end up crying anyway. It’s an endless cycle of despair.

You wipe your cheeks, untangling the chain that holds your golden wedding band close to your chest from around your neck. Gently, you guide it to your lips and press a kiss against the ring. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

For when you meet again in another life. 

You dig a small hole into the dry dirt where, six feet under, Matt is resting now. He always told you he would end up in hell when he died. You were never particularly religious before you met him, and when he struggled with his faith while you were together, you believed even less in an all-merciful God. Now though, with Matt gone and the world on the verge of falling apart and crushing you under its weight as you approach the biggest challenge of your life, the thought of ending up in an eternal life of nothingness after death—the thought of there being nothing but mindless darkness, no body, soul—scares you too much. Imagining the pits of hell or paradise with the love of your life, and reuniting with him, is a prospect you would rather see when you close your eyes than a world on fire. 

The necklace lands in the hole, and you cover it up. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of your ring before, but you won’t risk carrying it when you do what you are about to do.

Tonight, Peter Parker is going to show himself to all of New York City as the new mayor in all of his Spider-Man glory. He begged for you to come out, and he told the city he would be merciful in prosecuting you for the crimes you committed in the past alongside Daredevil. When you come out tonight though, you won’t surrender yourself. You will use the platform he is giving you and you will fight as you reveal him to Hell’s Kitchen and show the world who he is. You will tell Matt’s story, even if it’s the last thing you do. 

You have been burning for him for the longest time, and the flame is about to go out with a bang. 

That night, you put on the red suit Melvin made for you years ago before he lost his mind for what might be the last time. It has holes from where the moths dug their teeth into. The piece around the waist is starting to fade in color, and the leather is worn out, but it reminds you of simpler times. Better times. The black of your fingertips matches the lining of your outfit, and that’s all you need to feel the power sizzle deep within you.

You don’t have to remember the weather report because you can feel the rain soaking your skin through the fabric. The air smells salty, and it tastes the same on your cracked lips. Tonight, you will be Lady Red for the last time. Until the bitter end, you have sworn yourself. Matt did the same thing. You have to do him proud.

You make your way from that little farmhouse—your broken red castle—to the familiar streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Destruction surrounds you. The news didn’t do justice to what Peter has done to the city you once loved. But no one loved it more than Matt Murdock. 

Your fists clench at your sides. Oh, you want to tear this man limb by limb and feed him to the dogs. 

It starts with a low rumbling beneath your boots. You don’t pay much mind to it at first. You hide out on a rooftop across the courthouse. The spotlights are on, and he’s standing there at the podium, looking as though he is so proud of himself for ruining so many lives. You don’t usually experience joy when hurting people, but you will savor watching the life drain from Peter’s lifeless eyes. 

Your hands clench around Matt’s batons. The metal is heavy but flexible. You click your nails against them. Every move needs to be meticulously calculated, but tonight, the barons will remain in the holsters on your thighs. You won’t need them. You won’t need anything but your bare hands. 

You’re going back to your roots tonight.

The ground moves slightly, only a few inches. You could have missed it if you weren’t crouching to get a better look at the world below you. You catch yourself on the ledge, a frown finding its way on your face. 

“What the f–” you shake your head. Since when does thunder shake the ground?

You seem to be the only one who notices, or Peter Parker is better at brainwashing his decibels than you expected. He was born to be a dictator. His presence turned your fairytale into a dystopian tragedy.

“Tonight,” he says into his microphone, “is the last chance for Lady Red to reveal herself for a lesser sentence. A new era is on the horizon. I am your mayor, and I am Spider-Man. Without me, you would be nothing. Daredevil couldn’t save you. Wilson Fisk couldn’t save you. But I can, and after tonight, we will start anew. For this is the era of real heroes as we rebuild this city from the ground up, and we turn the City of New York, including Hell’s Kitchen, into its own world. Starting with the arrest of the criminal who is Daredevil’s accomplice Lady Red. I hope for her sake she will show herself tonight. If not, we will find her, and she will suffer the full extent of the consequences of her actions. That includes the Death Penalty.”

You land gracefully, catching yourself with your hand on the asphalt. The crowd parts with a gasp, and you finally stare into his eyes. 

After he drilled that dagger through Matt’s heart, he told you, “You will always be a monster, never a God.”

You deserve nothing, he thought. It has stuck with you since that night. Growing up, it was the only thing you heard. You were nothing but trash. A disgrace. A monster. What will they say when they see that you have finally become what they feared so much? 

You will burn down whatever is left of the world, including him. God knows you want to. 

Magic pulsates in the atmosphere like a growing spell in a small shoe box. The air vibrates, and the ground shakes again. This isn’t your doing, but the sudden charge that fills your veins as adrenaline sustains you. Your eyes glow red. This is who you were born to be. 

“I heard you were looking for me,” you declare. 

He doesn’t look surprised to see you. “Ah, just like clockwork,” he murmurs. “Are you going to make this hard on all of us or are you here to finally surrender yourself?” 

You purse your lips, playing with the energy between your fingers. “I came to destroy you.” Each step toward him on the big marble steps feels like a mile, and the crowd starts to move further back, dispersing in an attempt to save themselves. Most of them are eager to watch though. What has he done to them? 

“Destroy me?” Peter laughs, addressing the crowd again, “You see who you’ve been calling a hero all this time? This mutant? Look at her!”

All eyes are on you. They’re whispering. They’re speculating. Their thoughts overlap in disarray, and you’re drowning in a sea of judgment. They are trying to tear you down like sharks. You’re leaking blood, and God, they are angry. But it’s not you they’re angry at.

“You call me a mutant,” you say, “but wasn’t it you who was bit by a radioactive spider?”

His smile fades. 

“You are Spider-Man, no?”

“You are a wannabe hero with unregulated powers,” he snaps. His voice roars through the speakers, and the mood in the crowd starts to shift.

The ground vibrates again, stronger this time. You can’t be the only one feeling the quakes, but everyone else seems unmoved. They’re too focused on both of you to notice anything else, and you should do the same. However, the energy doubles and you are closer to bursting than ever. Something is happening, and you have no control over it.

Peter sneers. “You’re a failure,” he calls your name, “just like your husband!”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your eyes darken. “If you want to enforce the death penalty on me, Parker,” you growl, “why don’t you do it yourself?” 

Peter taps his chest, and his suit transforms into shades of black and spider webs. At that moment, panic erupts. People start running, but you tune them out.

The air begins to smell sour. Burnt. It is so high the pain consumes you whole. He doesn’t have to touch you to bring you to your knees, but looking up, you realize that it wasn’t Spider-Man who infused your ears with such a high frequency.

Someone is uttering a powerful spell, you can hear his voice in your head as he thinks of several names all over the place. Time passes by in a flash. Hours, days, weeks, and months. The universe falls out of control. The beeping picks up and you sink deeper into the ground.

You swear then and there that the sky starts to rip in two. The sky resembles a nasty cut on your forehead, a pair of hands ripping the cut further apart, causing the blood to pour out in rivers.

One of the cuts swallows you. With a scream, you fall through several rollercoasters passing by violet stars. 

The cut is a portal; one moment, you are flying through the sky at the highest possible speed, and the next, you hit the ground hard.

It’s not raining anymore. The sun shines down on you, and the heat creeps up your skin like tiny ants. The pain finally releases, but your head is still spinning. So many feelings, so many voices, and so many thoughts threaten to overwhelm you.

Not even an LSD trip hits that bad. You lazily open your heavy eyes to find not the courthouse but the New York skyline right before you.

You look down at your shaky hands. The charcoal is gone. The power in your veins feels different, all-consuming, but in no way bad. You take a deep breath. Even the oxygen tastes different. 

The world stops spinning, and you finally take a look around. A car honks, an SUV heading straight for your wobbly frame.

You’re in the middle of a road. What is it? A freeway.

Oh, shit!

You jump aside, hitting the sidewalk with a loud thud.

“Watch out, bitch!” the driver shouts out of his window. 

Where once used to be the courthouse, you are met with a street in the middle of downtown Hell’s Kitchen, New York. Stores line the side of the street. Tourists, foreigners, and those who are native to the city pass by you, and their gasps and whispers sound so different from the automatic voices Peter Parker raised them to be.

“Oh, no,” you breathe out. “Oh, no, no, no!” The air is getting thinner. 

“What are you thinking about, hm?” he asked into the darkness of the room. 

His heartbeat aligned with yours. His calloused fingertips traced your bare skin. You were in heaven. Beautiful, sinful heaven.  

His jawline appeared even sharper in the colorful lights from the billboard outside. His skin glowed white—paler than usual, even. You could stare into his eyes forever, such a beautiful hazel with hints of forest green. Perfect eyebrows, perfect lips. They bowed at the top, so kissable.

He pressed them to your bare shoulder blade, down your spine. The butterflies danced crazy in your tummy.

“You’re distracted,” he hummed again.

You chuckled, looking over your shoulder at the beautiful man in bed with you.

“Can’t help it when I’m with you,” you remember saying. 

Matt offered you his signature smirk. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I quite like the view.”

“And when I do this?” He trailed another finger down your sensitive spine. 

You shuddered. “That, too.”

He did it again. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“Thinking,” you said.

“About what?” he asked.

“A book I read.” You paused to turn on your back. “About the multiverse.”

It was a surprising change in subject, and he raised his eyebrows in a rather amused way. “The multiverse?” 

You nodded. “We know way too little about it. There could be more of me and more of you out there, and we don’t even know it,” you told him. “The multiverse… there is a chance it could be real. And that alone is terrifying because if it opens and we’re not prepared, chaos might ensue.”

He propped himself up on his elbow next to you, listening to the calming sound of your voice. It was always his favorite thing to do.

Matt used your voice as his podcast; it was his favorite, too. 

“Can we jump universes?” he wondered.

You shrugged. You didn’t know, at least not at the time. “Maybe,” you said. “But I’m not a scientist, let alone good at physics, so… let’s just go back to kissing. I’m much better at that.”

He laughed, but he did not object. At least with kissing, you both knew what you were doing. So, he brought his lips to yours, and the multiverse disappeared in a Bermuda Triangle of pleasure in your mind. Lost but not forgotten. 

Maybe.

But as you sit there, sliding back against the brick wall in the closest alley, you realize that you downplayed the probability. 

You were going to kill a man, but instead of blood on your hands, you are now cursed with the knowledge that the ‘maybe’ of your once-thought-silly pillow talk has always been very fucking real, and you have nowhere to run in this strange world you have fallen into that is New York City, Earth-616. 

Where do you run when you can go anywhere, just not home? 

Tagging: @nk1023 @sarahskywalker-amidala @ignore-mp3 @imonabitchparade @familyvideowithsteve @eyelessdemon

[teamhawkeye]

Highlights from the Ted Raimi Q&A from GalaxyCon

first off, he commandeered the mic from the panel moderator and went off script for like 15 minutes

he asked how much everyone had to pay for tickets and was AGHAST at hearing the price. he was also asking about how much food and other expenses added onto that and took a poll to see who would be broke after the end of the weekend

he also mentioned that this was the first time he'd ever had fried chicken at breakfast, and his first ever time trying grits! he really enjoyed grits but was confused whether they should be sweet or savory, since he thinks he had them served sweet and most everyone agrees they should be savory instead

because he had the last panel of the last day, he felt that all of us there that came to hear him talk were the "weirdos" of the convention, in the most affectionate way possible

as for actual questions he answered:

across his whole career, he said he thinks The Quarry is the best thing he's ever done,

when asked for some of his favorite endings of The Quarry, he said that Laura and Max reuniting is high up there since those were the characters/actors he spent the most time interacting with and being entrenched in their story. he also said he'd heard of an ending where most of the Hacketts survived and no one else did, and with Travis being a Hackett, he supposed that one was one he could get behind

he mentioned that the prop gun that Travis had during mocap was a rubber band gun, and that he used it to fire rubber bands at Skyler, who in turn would sling them back at him

he got asked about a favorite moment he got to be a part of in the Spider-Man trilogy and said it's from Spider-Man 3, where J. Jonah Jameson is saying "you want a staff job, you want a staff job. doesn't anybody care what I want?" and Hoffman pops his head in to say "I do!" and gets met with "shut up. get out"

he also said that JK Simmons was amazing to work with and that he brought such great energy to set and their scenes

there were a few questions about Xena. he was asked for a favorite episode and he admitted he can't really remember what scenes he filmed went with what episodes and didn't have an answer for that.

he was asked what kind of dog he thought Joxer would be and his first answer was "a kicked one". he then tried to come up with a breed that would essentially be loyal and energetic but dumb as a bag of rocks

he got asked if he still knew the words to Joxer the Mighty (yes) and if he'd be willing to sing it (no)

he was similarly asked if he had a favorite episode of SeaQuest and he likewise answered that he couldn't remember which scenes matched with what episodes, it had been too long for him to keep them straight

he did say that everyone remaining in the SeaQuest cast have remained great friends in the years since it aired, which he stressed was a rarity. they're planning on having a reunion dinner sometime next year out in Cali where they'll all get together to party and celebrate

on top of saying what great people all the surviving cast members are, he made sure to mention just how much he enjoyed filming with Michael Ironside in the final season and what a privilege it was to act alongside him

it was somewhere between Xena and SeaQuest questions that a fan had trouble with getting the microphone adjusted to ask her question and Ted leapt off stage to come adjust it for her before returning back to his seat on stage

when asked about the role of Henrietta and returning to that suit and makeup in Ash vs. Evil Dead, he said that the process was still pretty exhausting and gross as it was 30 years earlier

he got asked a pretty silly question about Robocop (being set in Detroit) and he mentioned having worked with Peter Weller on Odyssey 5 and what a unique experience that was and how he enjoyed filming it

one of the most profound things he said was in regards to a question about the film industry as a whole and its evolution. he mentioned how the best thing that had changed in the film industry since he started was the treatment of women in it, how it's changed for the better, and as it rightfully should have. he also said that he feels like very recently, he'd finally reached a point in his life where he felt he'd hit his stride. that there were years and stretches of time where he was just taking roles to keep his lights on and pay his rent, that there were hard times he had to get through. but that now, in his 50s, he'd felt content with where he was with his career and in his life. and he made sure to stress that sometimes people find their purpose in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, or even later - that there is no right or wrong time to reach that point, that it comes about on its own and that it's never "too late"

i'm very obviously paraphrasing some of this, because at the time i didn't know we'd be allow to record or take photos, so this is all just from memory! i hope that it was taped and ends up available for viewing sometime soon!

[bumblingbabooshka]

I really wish Tuvok & Harry's relationship had been explored more. (The moments they have together are funny, they're both people who have more personality than others might think) Even if the writers would have rather choked on their own tongues than have two non-white characters on screen developing a relationship that didn't have to do with a white character - I can accommodate that to some extent. Their relationships to Janeway are interesting to think about! Harry is a Gold Standard Ensign who Janeway is shown to favor a lot. She outright states that she cares about him more deeply than she does the rest of the crew and views him almost symbolically as a ray of light and hope. A shining example of a bright-eyed (ever obedient) Starfleet officer who can do no wrong.

Thinking about this compared to her reaction to Tuvok going against her orders in 'Prime Factors'. She is again extremely surprised and uniquely hurt by this betrayal. She's upset with B'Elanna as well but then dismisses her and talks to Tuvok alone.

Again, she positions Tuvok as different from the rest of the crew and almost as a symbolic presence or a tool more than a person. That isn't to say I think she doesn't think of Harry or Tuvok as people but more about how having a working relationship as well as a personal one within the system they're in is difficult and blurs some strange lines. To Janeway, Harry & Tuvok are her friends and people she cares about/cares for but their obedience and usefulness to her is part of what makes them so valuable. She needs them to listen to her orders and put their own personal feelings aside if she's going to command as captain which is more difficult to do the closer you feel to somebody. (As captain you might feel less inclined to put them in danger or more inclined to give leeway. As an officer you might feel more inclined to speak up, be insubordinate, or less likely to challenge the captain when it is expected you do so.) I imagine that for Tuvok it's easier to deal with these boundaries and hard lines which might be difficult to walk for others. He's Vulcan for one, for another he's been in Starfleet and known Janeway for several decades and lastly, he just has a personality which seems to do well with rules and hard lines. He also seems to have a unique devotion to Janeway herself which we can see in episodes like 'Prime Factors' and 'Equinox' which goes further than the typical obligation to a captain. Also, in certain episodes you can see that Tuvok is used to being listened to by Janeway in a way that puts him above other crewmen. When Chakotay chooses not to listen to him in 'Twisted' he goes so far as to argue with him about it. It's interesting to compare Harry's Not Listening to Orders here to him doing something similar in 'Resolutions'. In 'Resolutions' it's against Tuvok and for the captain - though he's going against her explicit orders. For these reasons, his near mutiny is not treated as flagrant insubordination and instead more heartwarming by both the narrative and, most notably, Janeway herself. She doesn't have a harsh word to say against Tuvok or Harry in the end. I like that Harry's a passionate person. I like that he has trouble sitting still and accepting things if he thinks there's another less devastating road to take. I would say that besides Janeway herself he's the one most dogged about his attempts to get everyone home and he, like her, means everyone. Perhaps even more idealistically than she herself.

It can be argued that they're following two different philosophies, both centered on the captain. Tuvok is following Janeway's order that they not contact the Vidiians while Harry is following her determination to do everything possible to get every member of their crew back home. To Tuvok, Harry is grossly insubordinate and disobeying Janeway's order and to Harry, Tuvok's cruel obstinance goes against her spirit. Going back to their relationship, I think it would be interesting to explore how they both deal with feeling so close and so special to someone that they will always (as long as they're working together) be at a distance from. In some ways, their dynamic with Janeway will never be truly equal. How do you deal with a relationship that's stated by the captain herself to be special and which you view as important, different, but still necessitates you pushing your own individuality aside whenever it goes against her? In addition to all this it's notable that both Harry & Tuvok have the strongest connection to Family Back Home. Even Janeway doesn't bring up Mark as a driving force as often as Harry does his parents or the expansive concept of the crews' families back home. It's an interesting similarity between them, they're both so firmly tethered to the alpha quadrant. They're the ones who have people waiting eagerly for them - in the end even Janeway doesn't have Mark anymore but Harry's parents and Tuvok's family will always be waiting for them to return. Also, I just think that Harry and Tuvok have the potential to be so funny together and so unintentionally destructive. They could get away with so much shit that no one else could in a million years and they don't even have troublemaking intentions. So yeah, I wish their relationship had been explored more. Harry is who I perceive to be Tuvok's first friend on Voyager. Tom declares himself a friend of Tuvok's but there's no indication Tuvok reciprocates that, He and Neelix are more frenemies, He and Kes are more mentor-mentee, He and Janeway were friends before all this and with the others he's mostly shown to have a somewhat to outright tense professional dynamic. Harry's the first and only person I can remember at this moment who he seems to have a non-adversarial and fully reciprocal friendship with, though it's not focused on. Harry is the first person who's able to slip past Tuvok's barriers and form a friendship with him (-points to a sign labeled 'Janeway parallels, Harry for captain'-). They both have people in the alpha quadrant they miss terribly and who're missing them. They both doubtlessly feel that drive to return to them (unique on Voyager, to have people rather than just the general familiarity of home to return to). They both have special relationship with Janeway and they both have more to them than being obedient and good. They're funny, they have bite and pride and hidden passions. They've both had trouble with love. Scene where Harry and Tuvok are working on something late at night. There's a radio present, conspicuously, but it's off. Harry begins to complain about how he's missing sleep and subtly making digs about how he hasn't been promoted despite how much he does and Tuvok reprimands him. Harry is apologetic. Silence. Tuvok brings up however the captain's decision making can be difficult to parse at times... and then makes a subtle dig about how Chakotay as the first officer instead of him is an interesting choice. Harry grins and makes a comment about how Chakotay would have let him play music while they worked. Tuvok makes an exasperated face like 'this again?' and says it's exactly that sort of thing which makes Chakotay- and then Chakotay comes in and Harry has to struggle not to laugh as Tuvok Vulcanspeaks his way perfectly through not answering his 'What were you talking about?' question.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

You (Keaton Henson)

If you must leave/Leave as though fire burns under your feet/If you must speak/Speak every word as though it were unique/If you must die, sweetheart/Die knowing your life was my life's best part/If you must die/Remember your life

"Man. It's just :("

Take Me To Church (Hozier)

I was born sick, but I love it/Command me to be well/A-, Amen, Amen, Amen/Take me to church/I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies/I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife/Offer me that deathless death/Good God, let me give you my life

“1. It’s Hozier, what do you expect? 2. Worship imagery... (I don’t know why I like it, but I do.)”

You submitted by @seraph1el

[hitomisuzuya]

ahh i saw ur reqs were open so i thought id ask! this is gonna be rlly specific lmaoo

but! maybe a scaramouche x fem brat fatui subordinate!reader where he puts her in her place with a little bit of public humiliation infront of the other harbingers and degradation? like maybe he likes to put her on a leash,,

i completely understand if u wouldn't like to write for something like this, absolutely no pressure <3

Oh my goodness, my first request! Thank you for being so sweet with how you asked. I absolutely can write something like this for you😌 I hope you like it. Since this is my first request, my hands are shaking a little as I type 😭 I hope this was what you asked for. I put Signora as the Harbinger witness. I feel like this is right up her alley of something she'd enjoy seeing.

Scaramouche x fem brat Fatui subordinate reader. Public degradation. Smut.

Scaramouche was famous for his bad temper, taking his aggression out on his subordinates. His subordinates infuriated him in ways that made his head spin.

And you were no exception. However, you frustrated him in a different way. A way that made his chest tighten. You made him willingly want to seek out human company. Your company. And he hated it. It made him shake with rage and something else he wasn't willing to admit that he felt: fear.

It all started with a backhanded retort to correct him. Archons, how dare you be so sharp tongued! To make matter worse, you'd corrected him in front of another Harbinger and her subordinates.

As angry as it made him, it also turned him on. It made him want to break you in unique ways. "On your knees, dog," he commanded, glaring down at you. The chain of the leash that was connected to your collar jingled as he yanked on it to emphasize he was serious.

Scaramouche almost licked his lips when he drank in the sight of you. You looked so cute, a defiant look in your E/C eyes, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Though defiant you may have looked, you'd oh so willingly sank to your knees in front of him.

He could tell you were incredibly aware of the collar around your neck. He'd made you suck on his fingers while he put it on (let's face it, he didn't make you do anything. You'd welcomed his fingers in your mouth).

Scaramouche crouched down in front of you, curling a finger underneath your chin to make you look up at him. "This is where a dog like you who dares to correct her Master deserves to be, on the ground beneath my feet."

"Scaramouche, don't you think you are being a bit..." Signora paused, the corners of her lips were pulled into an amused smirk, "harsh?" There was no sympathy in her words. How could she have sympathy for you when it was evident to her that you were enjoying yourself.

Scaramouche ignored her. He could only focus on you right now. His hands dipped up your short black skirt, probing them against your underwear. He chuckled, smirking down at you. "You like this, don't you?" He rubbed your already stimulated clit, the friction of fingers rubbing coupled with your panties rubbing against it made you wetter. You moaned as you leaned back, bracing your hands on the ground. You stretched your legs out, bending to them at knees to spread for him as you grinded up into his fingers. "You are making yourself look like such a dirty slut for me."

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

I am not any less sad about the dog. I have merely discovered, over the past few months, that even fewer people than I expected understand. He was not just some animal I loved--and I say this as someone with a great love and respect for animals and the bonds we form. The bond we have with dogs is different on a species level. The co-evolution is unique to the point that dogs do gaze recognition just like we do: they read human faces in the same order humans read human faces. They understand pointing innately, as no other mammal does--chimps included. And on and on and on...

And yet it's also true that Ernesto was not just some dog, and not just my dog. He was eerily and irritatingly intelligent, which is why I couldn't have him watched by just any one. I was in more of a dialogue with that dog than many people are with their human spouses. I showed him things in my hands, offered them for a sniff. He would stop on walks after sniffing something particularly interesting, and then look back at me, offering me a moment to check out what he'd found. I would lean over and look, and only then would he move on. We did not always understand each other but also: he had those talking buttons towards the end of his life, and he used them. So I do also literally mean that this dog and I talked. We spoke. With words.

Were his favorite words "food" and "no" and "now"? Sure. But frankly, are my favorite words that far off? Are yours, if you really think about it?

Part of my frustration is my usual frustration. People write about dogs as silly and ever cheerful and I find this to be a disgustingly shallow and simplified view of dogs, actually. I do not find it heartwarming in the least. A poet writing about the ever happy nature of all dogs does not strike me as insightful. They strike me as stupid about dog behavior. They strike me as a poor ethologist with only rudimentary capacity for theory of mind at best.

People talk about dogs as harmless, as stupid little not quite people who live artlessly in their homes.

Dogs on the whole are far more complex than you think.

But it's also--oh, all my life I've been head over heels for the working breeds, the hunting dogs. Big dangerous intelligent dogs, bred for their capacity to make snap second decisions independently because you, the human, cannot possibly shout out precise commands fast enough to pin down a wild boar. You and the dog work together, but for some parts of the hunt? That dog is fucking freelancing, baby. That dog is improvising. Or take the livestock guardian dog--you're not instructing him on anti-coyote tactics. When the predators show up late at night, it is all up to that dog to figure out how to play it.

They're smart. They have opinions. Ernie was just also really invested in conveying his opinions about things. And the talking buttons aren't just about the talking buttons; the talking buttons allow you to confirm, with words, the translations of nonverbal cues. He was thrilled when he got a button for "no"! But he also didn't need a button for "no" because he said "no" very clearly with a disdainful scoff/sneeze/chuff. And I know this because when he had the button and I would ask him to do something he did not want to do, he would go: scoff/sneeze *button mash: "NO"* scoff/sneeze.

(translation: NO. no. also: no.)

But all of that aside, all that extra connection and tenderness you get from communicating in your own native tongue, and knowing this little being is making the effort to communicate with you in the way you want and understand

(even though he thinks it's stupid and he often sneezes disdainfully at the buttons before deigning to use them)

(I cannot confirm this but there was a look he gave me sometimes that I would swear meant something like: "I know that you know what I mean, and you don't need me to use the buttons but I will do it to make you happy. But it's stupid." lingering eye contact, defiant posture, more intense eye contact, eventual punchy button usage)

But ALL OF THAT ASIDE, all of it.

When most people say "my pet saved my life," they mean something heart warming and emotional and that's nice and important. I'm not knocking that.

But when I say it

What I mean

Is that more than once this dog put his life on the line for mine. At least once, I absolutely would have died. I had no answer for the size of the physical threat upon us. And the other two times I can clearly think of--my odds weren't great. Sans dogs, my odds were, like. Bad. Pretty shit, actually.

So did that dog have a bite history? Technically, yes. Did he ever get in trouble for it? No, because ultimately he had flawless target selection and he understood when someone--dog or man--truly meant me significant physical harm.

So here's what it is, right. Here. Listen.

That dog saved my life. More than once. Very literally. I mean in a flesh and blood way, an immediate way, a non-metaphorical way.

He could save me and so he did, more than once.

And ultimately, when he needed it, I could not do the same. I could not save him from lung cancer. And yes, he was 13, only 3 months away from 14. And he was a big dog, and they mostly don't live too long. Sure, sure, sure.

But the point is he handed my life back to me. And I couldn't do that for him. You know? Not all the love and worry and time and money and care I put into it made the difference. The surgery prolonged his life by a few months and his quality of life was much better for it. The chemo did nothing but at least it didn't hurt him.

I tried. Yes.

But Ernie Dog, when he tried for me, succeeded.

And I don't know how to explain the debt of that to people. I think it's too uncomfortable for people to think about so they rush to platitudes. "You did your best!" Sure. And it wasn't enough. "You did more than most anyone would!" Yes, but most people suck. Even the people who have the money often suck. No shade to those who don't. "He was loved!" Obviously. And he loved me. Thus why he saved my life. And I couldn't save his. Exactly. That's my point.

So there's nothing to do with that but live with it, and no medicine for me now besides time.

But fuck. So few people get it. And I get that there's a limit to how long people will listen to you about your dearly departed dog. But mostly I don't want to talk about it because almost nobody understands. Do you know what it is to have someone prove they would die for you? I do. It's a horrible debt even when a human does it.

It's even worse when it's a dog.

[mycomicbox]

Random Thoughts on Live A Live

🕑 General:

I'd like to make it known that I'm jumping into this game almost completely blind. All of my prior knowledge of Live A Live comes from this video.

Beautiful presentation, though that's pretty characteristic of the 2D-HD look. More retro games should be remade in this style.

This soundtrack slaps, as to be expected from Yoko Shimomura.

One complaint: why is the file menu so laggy when the rest of the game runs fine?

I'm choosing to play the chapters in chronological order, beginning with Prehistory and ending with Distant Future. I'm also playing with the English dub.

🍖 Prehistory:

Fred Flintstone called. He wants his car back.

I can't say that I've ever played a JRPG with zero dialogue.

I like the item and ability descriptions. Why many word when few work?

...My party members can fart and throw shit at enemies. 7-year-old me would've been rolling on the floor laughing.

Pink gorilla harem to the rescue.

GO GO GADGET CROTCH LIZARD

🐼 Imperial China:

Interesting how you play as a kung fu master teaching his techniques to his disciples, rather than the reverse, like in other stories. Fitting that Shifu is at the max level from the start.

This chapter's narrative really feels like an old tale from ancient China, what with a kung fu master single-handedly defeating dozens of men and tigers, entrusting his techniques to his student, and passing away.

I wonder if any student could have been Shifu's surviving disciple in this chapter. For me, it was Hong, but Yun or Lei probably could have been the new master. (UPDATE: I looked this up after the fact, and I was right.)

🍡 Twilight of Edo Japan:

I like Oboromaru's design. He looks fun to cosplay.

Really cool how there are no-kill and no-mercy routes. I tried (and failed) aiming for the no-mercy route, but I'll have to check out this chapter again some time.

Okay, so the Edo period is a little more recent than I initially thought, considering that a few characters have firearms.

Can't trust a single mf in this whole chapter smh

🤠 The Wild West:

I've heard that a few terms in this chapter were changed between the Super Famicom release and this remake. Like, the ointments and jerky used to be alcohol and cigars in the original.

That "your mom" joke got me good.

The part with the townsfolk trapping the town was really cool. Feels very fitting for the setting, and I like how it has a tangible gameplay effect.

I've seen that Sundown and Mad Dog are a semi-popular pairing, and I can definitely see why.

🏋‍♂️ Present Day:

I love Masaru's gimmick of learning techniques from other fighters. He's like a physical variant of Final Fantasy's Blue Mage job.

The saxophone in this chapter's battle theme slaps so hard.

🏙 Near Future:

First time in this game that a character directly addressed me, the player.

Psychic powers are one of the coolest tropes in fiction. The MOTHER series got me hooked on it years ago.

In terms of battle capabilities, poor Akira is probably the weakest of the protagonists, or at least he felt weaker to me.

This chapter feels like I'm playing through a mecha anime. I dig it.

🔧 Distant Future:

Not to get political or anything, but I would die for Cube. I want a plush of them.

something something Among Us joke

When OD-10 commandeers the ship, it even takes over the loading screen tips...

This chapter may have my favorite narrative.

-

⭐️ [A new chapter has been unlocked.]

-

⚔️ Middle Ages:

His fight for heroism was in vain.

Betrayed by an ally, framed as a murderer, denounced by his country and his lady...

With nothing to lose, he gives his heart to the Dark.

Odio.

-

⭐️ [A new chapter has been unlocked.]

-

The Dominion of Hate - Oersted:

From what I've read, choosing Oersted here will lead into a unique (and short) take on the final chapter, adding yet another incentive for replayability. In games with multiple endings, I like to view the bad endings first.

Through pure misanthropy, I'm retconning the outcomes of previous battles to ensure hatred's victory. That is so cool... and so depressing.

There are actually two outcomes to this chapter. The first is by beating all 7 battles, where Odio simply celebrates his success. The other is far more crazy, only achieved by being knocked to critical HP during any of the fights. Odio just... fucking blows up the world in order to recreate it.

The Dominion of Hate - Hero's Route:

I chose to begin this chapter as Oboromaru, mainly because I like the variety of elements in his skillset.

Not gonna lie, this was when the game lost a bit of steam for me. Due to the lack of fast travel or a detailed map, the last few dungeons were a bit of a chore to get through. It's why I put off this chapter for a while.

Even though this is a modern remake, some mechanics in this chapter still carry that air of '90s JRPG crypticness (which could be a positive or negative depending on the gamer). Like, I stumbled into Akira's dungeon on complete accident! And how was I supposed to know about the hidden boss you encounter by fleeing 100 times?

That final boss phase was pretty bittersweet, what with Oersted opening his heart again, freeing himself from Odio. And to think it was a brand new addition, exclusive to this remake.

💭 Final Thoughts:

If I had to describe Live A Live in one word, it'd be... unique! I can't really say I've played any other RPG like it, with each chapter being a mini-adventure with its own unique gimmick. At the same time, it's not just a bunch of demos, as it still manages to come together into a well-written narrative about choosing trust over misanthropy, despite it all. It's almost unbelievable that a game like this released in 1994!

I'm not exactly dying for a sequel, but I can't help but wonder what a "Live A Live II" would look like. Not a direct story continuation, of course, but I'm thinking something like the Final Fantasy or Shin Megami Tensei series (where each game is standalone, yet also shares common elements). I might draw my ideas some time.

Overall, a fun and interesting hidden gem, and I'm glad that it got a well-deserved remake.