#we're all alive to experience this and I think that's beautiful

[sevikas-biceps]

Just to add on to this. Someone might've mentioned it in the tags, but I wanted to put my take on this thought.

Do note that the power imbalance is also there. Yes, the two of them have their own views regarding the situation [Vi being accustomed to the reality of things, Caitlyn having to be shocked into experiencing it firsthand (and even then not the whole scope of this systemic issue)]—but their subjective experiences don't change the fact that, from a complete bird's eye view, the conflict of power exists.

We see this multiple times in the show. We see this already laid out for us, in several instances, in Season 1.

In what mad world will I trust someone like you? // Someone like me? You enforcers are all the same: just asshole criminals in fancy uniforms. We're here because I'm hungry. Do you know what prison food is like? No. Of course, you don't. Well, that place does look like it has bodies buried in the basement. // You don't know anything. You know what your problem is? // Please, tell me. // You expect everyone to give you what you want. What is this place? // It's where the kind of people you Topsiders don't wanna think about wind up. I know you have your reservations about me. This only works if we can learn to trust each other. // It doesn't work. It never has. You Topsiders always find a way to screw us. // I suppose Topside is to blame for all your misfortunes. // ...not all of them. // We aren't monsters, you know. We're people. Just like you. // You don't know anything about me. She makes...potions. Helps people here with...with...this. // ...shimmer. Why would you take something that does that to you? // I just...wanted to feel what it was like...to be somebody. To make other people afraid. Let's go. I think Vi would be happy to see a friendly face. // No! You...you go on ahead. She...she knew me when I was still...anyway, I don't want her to see me like this. Just tell her I'm sorry...about everything, okay? You used to live here...who's Powder? // My sister. I thought she died, but, now...I have to try and find her. // How do you know if your sister is alive or dead? // It's hard to check up on people from inside a concrete cell. // What, you don't have parents? // No! They were killed by enforcers. I knew it was a mistake trusting you! // You've been a real picnic yourself. Vi tells me I can trust you. You get a pass back Topside—that's it. ...it's beautiful. // If your people had your way, it'd be rubble and ash. // It's a misunderstanding. They think you work for Silco. // Your people hunt us! Like animals! Silco pays them to do it! // That's not possible. You're wrong. // Say that one more time. Ekko! She believes what she's saying, okay? We could beat Silco with this. // That won't solve things. // Easy for you to say! Your people aren't dying all around you! // Ekko...it's wrong what's been done to you. You'd be well within your rights to keep it. I couldn't blame you. But, if you do, the cycle of violence will never stop. This is our best shot at setting the record straight. This city needs healing—more than I ever realised.

[Whew. I actually had to rewatch several episodes just to get the dialogue IFBJKFBF]

Now, back to the topic at hand.

Let's start with the obvious. Whether explicit or implicit, all of these lines trace back to the systemic oppression being done by Piltover against the Undercity.

Vi was wary of Caitlyn in the beginning because she's an enforcer, and enforcers were the people who'd killed her parents. It's not just that, either. Vi knew about Grayson and Vander's deal. She has witnessed both Piltie and Trencher working together to keep peace between the two cities. Yes, she'd been angry about it (reasonably so), but even then, she realised why such a thing needed to be done. She was even ready to sacrifice herself just to spare her siblings the inevitability of being the scapegoat. This implies that Vi knew there was at least a good soul at there, a sympathiser—who might yet grant her some kindness on the upside. But then that sympathy got that very same person killed. And here, we finally know for true that good people don't survive the games of life. You don't get as far as you do in your existence without committing violence. The same also holds true for Vander: her father, who'd shifted his morals and priorities to protect his children; her father, who'd also sacrificed himself in the name of their family.

What does that show her? Being good gets you killed. Being good isn't enough.

Huck demonstrates this incredibly well. I just wanted to feel what it was like to be somebody. To make other people afraid. Prior to his reappearance in Ep6, we don't know anything about him save for the fact that he'd made deals of his own in the Undercity—but this is enough to tell us that he, like almost everyone else, is involved in some kind of illegal business. Being good doesn't support your life. You have to tamp down the purest parts of you to be able to survive and thrive.

Even those in Piltover knew this. Caitlyn is a glaring example, what with the drastic shift in morals in Season 2; Cassandra is another good model (see this post of mine); Jayce had to adapt to the demands of high society, seeing and acknowledging the points made in Mel's little lessons on politics; Viktor once had to lie low in the Academy, and use subterfuge to achieve even just a fraction of his own potentials and ambitions; the list goes on.

Being good just doesn't cut it. Ekko implies this best: Vi tells me I can trust you. He's mistrustful of Caitlyn not just because she's a Topsider, not just because she's (still and admittedly) largely ignorant of the harsher realities of their cities—but because she'd've been raised on the very same ideals others she knew have also exhibited. What else does Caitlyn know but the life she lived in Piltover? What she knows as 'right' or 'wrong' is vastly different from what someone like an Undercity child would perceive as 'right' or 'wrong'—and being 'good' isn't enough, because the scales of measuring such a thing were already horridly skewed to start.

So, how does this support the idea that there's a pattern of abuse in Vi and Caitlyn's relationship?

The abuse itself starts on the political level. And this is so, because this was the basis of their relationship in the beginning. No strings attached. Get me out of this cell, and I'll give you the clues to your investigation. Lead me to this criminal, and I'll help you find your sister. I'll forget you're an enforcer for a while. I'll pretend you're not a convict yourself. We can work together. Somehow. The nature of their births had already dictated how they were to behold one another in this relationship. It will always hold a shadow over their heads. Even with the deterrent of romance mixed in, this dichotomy will persist.

OP mentions this:

Cait is Vi's only access to safety and food, she's isolated, she has to constantly prove her loyalty to Cait and renounce any ounce of lingering feelings she has towards the only family she has left, she's left in constant state of anxiety because of it.

There will always be a side to Caitlyn that would never understand how life was like for Vi, or for Ekko, or for Huck, or for Jinx, or for everyone else in the Undercity. That's not an accusation. It's just a statement of truth. Even despite the fact that Caitlyn had tried to set things right (evidenced by her efforts to convince Ekko to return the hexcrystal, and later on her talk with Cassandra to speak in favour of their case at the Council meeting), none of that matters because she herself undoes all that she worked for. All that Vi had tried making her see was for nothing.

That's where it becomes abusive. That's where their relationship, past the political layer, gets cruel on a personal level. Caitlyn, even if she didn't mean to do so and even if she doesn't realise it, had taken advantage of Vi.

You Topsiders always find a way to screw us.

Many others have said this in recent posts: it's Us versus Them.

Over the course of the first act of Season 2, we constantly see Vi in Piltover or surrounded by Piltovian individuals; which makes sense narrative-wise, but on a symbolic level also represents her isolation from all that she knew and had been built by (as a person) in her past. There's also an element of grooming present—in the same way Silco had groomed Powder into becoming Jinx. Caitlyn had slowly worn away at Vi (you can argue this as their relationship being developed, but still) and, for better or for worse (worse), trapped her into a situation where her choices leaned only in one direction and one direction only (Piltover or Zaun?).

Caitlyn abuses her power in this relationship. Whether Caitlyn herself realises this or not, whether Vi realises this or not, is irrelevant—what matters is that such a thing had happened at all. Being good fails. You can't have your cake and eat it. Caitlyn has to make the choice: her mother (Piltover), or her lover (Zaun)? Similarly, Vi does the same: her people (Zaun), or her lover (Piltover)?

You can't be good, one way or the other. It's just not enough, anymore. You have to breach something here, you have to commit an evil somewhere there—because being good gets you nowhere. Not when you're at this point of your life. Being good won't help you catch Jinx, being good won't stop the terrorist attacks from happening, being good won't bring your mother back. But being good would just make your people hate you, being good would make you a conspirator to the crimes against them, being good wouldn't sate your lover's need for vengeance.

That's where Vi and Caitlyn's relationship becomes toxic.

That's where the abuse sets in.

not to be the friend who's too woke but I genuinely feel that the only reason the fandom has such a visceral reaction to people calling Vi and Cait's situation domestic violence is because Vi is butch. yes, DV is more than just physical harm, it involves repeating patterns of abuse, all of which can be found in their relationship. Cait is Vi's only access to safety and food, she's isolated, she has to constantly prove her loyalty to Cait and renounce any ounce of lingering feelings she has towards the only family she has left, she's left in constant state of anxiety because of it.

[girlitfeelsgood]

so grateful to be alive at a time where taylor swift releases songs about masturbation

[castelobyers]

I'm thinking now and I just know that I'll be spoiled about byler being endgame by every pop page on every site that I decide to go to, or by any friend that knows that I like this show, so it will be like or I'll watch it in the night that it comes out (it outs 4:00 am in Brazil aka very late) or I just accept my fate that I'll be spoiled there's no way runnig

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Here are some Austrian specific quirks I think König would have <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

(PSA; I'm German, but I figured I could put down the most general quirks that we have, which I think would also apply to Austrians :) )

♡ he HATES fans and air conditioning. Like I'm talking disdain from the deepest pits of hell kinda hate.

Ceiling fans and AC are not a thing here, and literally every German looks at it with a very disapproving look if there happens to be one somewhere.

König absolutely refuses to sleep with the fan or AC on, just open a window, Liebling!

He's so upset that he can't put the window "auf kipp" :( (pls Google it, it's so hard to explain lol) like he's crushed that he can't keep the windows "auf kipp" all day.

You have a ceiling fan? Nope, not anymore. That thing is getting taken down the minute you move in together. But if you insist on keeping it, he'll secretly cut the cable to the switch.

Everyone knows all they do is whirl around dust and make you sick! He's not having it.

König acts like artificial ventilation is his worst enemy (I agree with him) and he'd rather suffocate than turn on the goddamn AC.

♡ Sundays are strictly lazy/rest days. Nothing's open on Sundays here, so we're forced to relax and not run around like headless chickens trying to get things done.

He's absolutely baffled if you have plans to go somewhere on a Sunday. What do you mean you need to run errands? What do you mean you're going out? And if you want him to come along?? Yeah, no.

His brain stops working. After the many years he's been alive, not once has he gone somewhere on a Sunday that wasn't his Oma's house for Kaffee und Kuchen.

You're not going anywhere. Plans are canceled, and you better spend the day on the couch with him.

♡ König probably misses all the beautiful old architecture Vienna has to offer. You don't quite appreciate it as much when it's just there all the time, but now he wishes he could quietly people watch in the city center :(

In my mind he's a bit of a history nerd, so he probably frequented museums and castles, admiring the delicately sculpted ceilings and wondering how people lived back then.

He'd be most fascinated by the masonry work done on the outside of most buildings. I mean, that's stone, but it's so smooth and carefully crafted.

♡ there are some very weird sayings in German that you just can't translate because they don't make sense. König is sick of having to awkwardly try to explain what they mean after he's been caught muttering one under his breath, only to realize halfway through that he looks like a maniac.

German is a very literal language, and I think he misses speaking it. We have very specific words for some things and he probably struggles to talk in English sometimes purely because the words he wants to use just don't exist.

(I'm very upset they didn't give him an Austrian accent bc it's one of my favorites, but I can also confidently say that I think he wouldn't be taken seriously at all if he had one lmao)

♡ König goes on random ass walks sometimes. Where's he going? On a walk. No, like where is he going? HE'S GOING ON A WALK.

There's no destination, you just walk. No matter the weather. Ya walk until you feel like you've walked enough. (A very German experience and I hate it)

♡ dreams of his Oma's Kaiserschmarn (me too, König, me too.)

It's basically a giant pancake that you tear into little pieces (traditionally, it has raisins too, I think) and you eat with either cinnamon sugar or applesauce (or both) and you will drift up to heaven.

It's warm, it's fluffy, it's sweet;

It's perfect for a gloomy Friday afternoon spent with his Oma and Opa 🥺

(Can you tell that I'm projecting)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Auf kipp" is a very specific window position where only the bottom two hinges stay attached so you can tilt the window towards you and a little crack is open so you can always have fresh air!

"Oma und Opa" grandma and grandpa, which he loves so much, undoubtedly.

"Kaffe und Kuchen" basically tea time. You get together and eat cake and have coffee! Mostly on the weekends :)

"Kaiserschmarn" what dreams are made of.

🩷

[tritoch]

i have seen people be like "if you think what the dawntrail protagonists do in zone six is valid you have to conceded emet's approach/perspective was valid, what you do is basically what he does" and it's like...nah. it's obviously intentionally very similar ("it's like poetry, it rhymes") but there's some key differences:

emet is disgusted by sundered life, which he sees as inhuman, and longs to return to the unrecoverable past. so he does seven(ish) planet-wide genocides. the endless aren't new life, their ability to grow and learn is specifically in question (at the very least they are fundamentally incapable of taking in new sensory experience of certain forms), they're shades from the unrecoverable past, and you are destroying them in favor of those still alive.

also, we aren't disgusted by them nor do we think anything is fundamentally justified if done to them (everyone pretty much no-sells cahciua "we aren't alive so it doesn't matter if you kill us :)," in fact). we don't have like 12,000 years and the most advanced magic known to anyone alive. we are forced by serious exigency to destroy them due to a political impasse with their leadership's policy re: resource extraction. this tonal difference is in fact extremely important.

the endless themselves seem pretty ambivalent about the whole deal. they're bored or they're wary of the way their world keeps shrinking, and it's very explicitly neither a functioning society by any recognizable human terms nor a paradise.

related to the above, basically every named endless turns to the person most relevant to them (cahciua to erenville, krile's parents to her, namikka to wuk lamat, otis to you) and is like, huh, i really appreciate having this moment of grace at the end of my journey to see that it was all worthwhile and to resolve my lasting regrets, but i understand what you're here to do and yeah, it's probably time for us to go. (does the writing put a finger on the scale by doing this? sure, but the writers also designed and built the scales and everything they're weighing on them, so i find it hard to discredit any one aspect for being the writers' invention.)

finally uh no one in the party has kids with the endless or lives a full human lifetime as one of them lol.

it's important to remember that emet was definitely at least somewhat lying about not seeing the sundered as real people. the fact that he has "lived a thousand thousand of your lives . . . broken bread with you, fought with you, grown ill, grown old, sired children and yes, welcomed death’s sweet embrace" makes everything he did soooooo much crazier than what you do. if i managed to convince an endless to fall in love with me and i had a kid with them and i loved that kid so much that their death threw me into a permanent grief spiral then like. yeah i guess i would have to be like "well hats off to emet, folks." but luckily the game doesn't make you do that.

even if you insist everyone in living memory was a full living person that we killed, you're still weighing like a city of people versus 7+ planet-wide mass murders. you do not under any circumstances got to hand it to him.

living memory absolutely is evocative of everything that happens in shadowbringers. but rather than placing us in emet's shoes, it forces us to relive what we already did, to really fully face up to what we have done by promising to remember emet's culture after destroying any chance of its return. after two games going hard on the hope part of the game's central theme of hope arising from grief, now we're doing grief. we are forced to see the past of our memories not as a cold, ghostly art deco cubus-plagued socratic method hellscape but as the most beautiful technicolor theme park where everyone's happy and no one's sad and there's parades every day and your parents are alive and they love you so much. and then the game's conclusion is, yeah, you were still right to let go. in fact, you were and are morally obliged to let go. the living were and are worth more than the dead. our grief in letting go of them may be immense and turns our world to bleak nothingness for a time, and that is important to recognize, but at the end of the day our most pressing duty is to those we can yet save, not those we have lost.

[risuola]

ENTRY #12 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // In a room full of other people, blindly I'd find you.

contents: arranged marriage!au, jealousy (duh!) — wc. 1463

a/n: little experiment, let's see how it goes. please let me know what do you think of this chapter! also, we're getting closer to the nsfw entry, i hope you guys are as excited as i am!!

series masterlist

“You are breathtaking. I did not deserve an honor of your presence.”

Satoru hates it.

“The pleasure is mine,” you reply, a sweet smile adorning your face in a way that makes your husband narrow his eyes. A hand dances along your spine, caressing the bare skin that you decided to expose in a dress with a low cut on the back. You are breathtaking. You are a sight that should cost money to be looked at, you are stealing the show, like a magnet attracting both men and women around the wide ballroom.

He hates it so much.

You seem polite, overly so and accepting too — a little too much for Gojo’s liking. You move along the man — not him — with grace, with fluidity and the long layer of smooth fabric dances around your legs. The dress you wear makes him salivate, it makes him think thoughts that are ungodly, that are unallowed. Silk that wraps around your body in an expensive, luxurious embrace causes Satoru to curse himself for buying that very dress for you few days before. It is beautiful, tailored to your shapes and edges. It’s soft, but with enough body to flow gracefully along your movements. It hugs your chest and loosens up below your hips, it’s a dream, you are a dream.

But you are dancing with someone else.

It’s a job unlike the others. An order from higher ups required you and him to attend a ball — an event as fancy as it can get because there has been a rumor that said the circles of people, filthy and rich, were contracting curse users for entertainment, causing chaos and harm. It would be easy to just get all of them, interrogate, torture, but this time the means are different. This time, it’s you who plays the main role, swiftly engaging with influential men and pulling their tongues until they slip.

It was easy.

Men there were dogs and a sight of a woman — as beautiful as you — laced with a silent promise is enough to make them spill their secrets. They were eating from your hands, wrapping themselves around your pinkie, voluntarily telling you more than you asked. Easy.

But Satoru hates it.

He’s there with you, your plus one, your partner and an entry card for a party as luxurious as it is. You didn’t know how he got the invitation, but the sight of it didn’t surprise you. He is rich, he is Gojo, you are Gojo.

And you are annoyed.

You don’t like the job. You got what you wanted, it was a child’s play but then, you hate how good your husband looks. You hate how other women are looking at him, ogling him, undressing him, eating him alive. The lady that clings to him — onto him — seems too old, too eager. Her greedy hands cannot settle for one place, wandering over Satoru’s broad shoulders, his chest hidden beneath a crisp, white shirt, his sides. The obnoxiously manicured fingers are dragging themselves across his body, examining, exploring, consuming. They are underneath his suit jacket; they are in his hair and near his face and you wish to break them one by one.

Satoru is smiling, working his features into a sight of an angel, using his eyes to hypnotize, whispering sweet little nothings and promising more than he’s willing to give, just to get what he wants in exchange. He has it easy, you think. Your husband is blessed with not only strength but also looks, unfairly, but god do seem to have favorites.

He catches you looking. You catch him looking. A silent communication that makes it through the distance of the ballroom, and then you’re focused on the man beside you again. Suddenly aware of hands that roam your curves, of traces of unwanted heat that his fingertips are leaving at their wake, a breath against your neck. An invitation that whispered right to your ear causes you to flinch involuntarily and a shiver that runs down your spine makes you take a step back.

“Excuse me,” you smile, a fake gesture wrapped in fake politeness. Your hands press against his chest and his own slip over the silk of your dress. He lets go of you, nearly, and you’re close to leaving when you feel his fingers digging into the soft flesh above your hipbones. The entire front of your torso hits the hard chest, knocking the air of your lungs for a split of a second.

“Don’t leave me yet, darling,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your earlobe. There’s a shift in his tone, the sweet and flirty undertones are suddenly much darker, greedier. His grip grows harsh against your skin, forcefully intimate.

“Oh, it’s time for me,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. With a corner of your eye, you notice Satoru getting closer, but you have no intention of waiting for him to save you like you’re a damsel in distress. “Let go,” you warn, sneaking one of your hands underneath the suit jacket of the man. Swiftly you move it to the top of his shoulder, a little more to his back and you squeeze, digging your fingers harshly into the one, very sensitive spot right above his shoulder blade. The vulnerable muscle tense underneath your assault and the man winces, cursing under his breath and calling you names that are far from elegant. “Hands off. Or you’ll say goodbye to your right hand and I bet you need it.”

He growls, like an animal under attack, hisses almost and you smile in victory when his hold on you falters, allowing you to step back. You smooth your dress, fix the straps on your shoulders, and blow a strand of hair from your eyes before Satoru reaches you, effectively cutting short any attempts of biting back that the man could have had.

“Anything you wish to say?” He asks, narrowing his eyes, lowering his tone. It’s cold enough to make you shiver, scary almost, and inside it makes you giddy. He is so very jealous it’s written all over his face and yet, you’re certain, he would never admit it even if burned and tortured. “No? I thought so.” He closes the conversation before it begins, cuts the discussion short and turns to you.

“Hello, handsome,” you greet him, suddenly possessive and it surprises you as much as it does surprise him, because a short oh slips through his lips when you reach up to lock your fingers together at the nape of his neck.

“Hello to you too, beautiful,” he replies, the words foreign on his tongue but feeling so right and then, his hands follow the curves of your hips and waist until he finds the spot to rest one of them — the other moves further, circling behind you and planting itself on your bare back. The touch burns your skin, sending waves and waves of heat throughout your entire system and to your face.

You feel the eyes on you, much more threatening than before. The stares of women present around you are drilling holes in your body and if they could kill, you’d lay cold already.

“I’ve never seen you jealous,” Satoru purrs against your lips right after you pull him down, pressing a kiss to his mouth — possessive, proving, claiming.

“Goes both ways,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, but drops his head lower, sucking a spot on the side of your neck. A mark to show everyone that you belong to him, a signature etched onto your delicate skin, a bite of nothing but unspoken love.

“I’m not jealous,” he protests, just for the sake of it because he knows it’s false just as well as you know it. His voice vibrates against your flesh and his breath tickles you, his eyelashes do too.

Satoru inhales, filling his lungs with the subtle scent of your skin and perfume, the one with sweet vanilla undertone that he likes so much on you. It suits you, makes you seem delicious, makes him want to taste you. It calms him — your presence — it makes him relax underneath the sturdy hold of your hands. It teases him. The way your thumbs are brushing against the very sensitive spots on his nape, it makes him want to whimper and so, he pulls you closer, flush to himself, hungry for your touch and presence.

“We should leave this place,” you murmur quietly, running the tips of your fingernails across his scalp, sending shivers that run down his spine.

“Yeah,” he inhales again, bracing himself to leave the comfortable spot in the between your shoulder and neck, and before you know it, he’s pulling your hand, pulling you somewhere only he knows.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe @fortunatelyfurrygiver @lolita-h

[morbidapples]

you're an asshole

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐!𝖻𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗋���𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇. 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖽, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍?

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟣,𝟩𝟫𝟩 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌; 𝟫,𝟨𝟥𝟥 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗏𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗒) 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗃𝗈𝖻𝗌, 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗉𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇, 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝗂𝗌𝗁). 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗍, 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾.

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾. 𝖻𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗌 <𝟥 @echo-mars0

"I don't need friends." Ben admitted. He sat across from you at the wedding reception for Luther and Sloane. You didn't know the bride all that well, but it was hard trying not to feel the warmth and joy in the room, although it was with underlying fear. After all, the end of the world was only days away.

You wanted to experience this supposed warmth, this love, just once more before the end of the world. And then, Ben Hargreeves, the alternate version of the original, was sitting across from you.

You were trying to get over the original Ben, the 'real' one, so it was strange talking to his alternative counterpart, who seemed much more of an asshole. But it was easy to talk to him, even if he was a bit rude.

He wasn't as handsome as the original Ben, (regardless of having the same face, you thought) but his eyes were beautiful, and the way he talked to you...

You couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Yeah," you replied. "It's just, like, I always liked being alone, and having people around can be exhausting."

Ben nodded. "I'm not good at making friends, and honestly, the others were pretty annoying. I guess I had a few people I liked, like Fei. She was always really fun, and could kick ass. But, when everyone dies, and it's just me, I guess I'll be a little bored."

"That sounds really sad," you said. "Yeah, it is. But it's the path I've chosen."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Ben said. "I'm sure we've all done some shit we regret, right? Things that makes us question if we deserve to be alive, or to be happy. Maybe it's time for me to pay for all the terrible things I've done. And the other guys, I'm sure they've done some shit. Luther, he's done plenty of bad stuff, I've heard about it. But, maybe they can be happy. At least for the time we all have left."

"It's hard to tell whether someone deserves happiness or not," you said. "Sometimes I think, nobody does. We're all just these miserable, ugly, terrible creatures. But then I look at someone, and they smile, and I just think, 'they're a good person. They deserve to be happy'."

You and Ben look at each other for a second before bursting out laughing. "That is such a load of shit."

There's another moment of silence.

"Do you think I deserve to be happy?" Ben asked. You paused. "You're an asshole, but maybe."

Ben smiled. "You're kind of an asshole, too." You laughed. "I mean, that's just how we are. It's just human nature. Humans are so terrible."

"We are, aren't we?" Ben asked. You stared into his eyes, and for a moment, it was as if you were falling in love with him. Your heart fluttered, and you hesitantly leaned forward and kissed him.

For some reason, he didn't hesitate to kiss back. You felt your entire body melt. You felt his arms wrap around you. You felt his tongue.

It was so perfect.

But then, you stopped. You looked at him, and he was still there. He was still Ben. But not your Ben.

"You alright?" Ben asked.

"I can't do this."

"What? Why?"

"You're not him. You're not my Ben. He died, and you're an asshole."

"Yeah, I'm not him," Ben said, shrugging. "But I am him. He's inside me, and a part of him is still here."

"I'm sorry," you said. "It's not you. I can't do this."

Ben sighed. "It's fine."

You felt guilty. "Look," Ben started. "I'm not going to force you. If you want, I'll go. I'll leave you alone, and stay the hell away. But... I could stay with you? If you don't care."

You paused. "Stay," you said. He looked surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Just... don't say anything."

"Okay."

You both sat in silence. It was a nice silence, a peaceful silence. You thought about everything. About life. About death.

And then, you realized something.

"Do you want to have sex?"

Ben's eyes widened as he blinked a few times. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"But you don't want to be with me. You said I'm not him."

"Yeah, but I need something."

"Something?"

"Something to help me feel alive," you said. "We're all gonna die soon, so why not? Besides, you're an asshole, but I can deal with that."

"I am an asshole," Ben said nonchalantly. "I know," you said. "But if you keep your mouth shut, we can have some fun."

Ben smirked. "Deal."

The two of you got up, and went to your hotel room. You walked up to the door, and opened it. You entered, and Ben followed. You closed the door behind him.

You walked to the bed, and began taking off your clothes. Ben watched you. You could see his eyes widen as you stripped. You removed your underwear, and tossed it to the floor. You turned around and lay on the bed. You looked at Ben.

"Well?"

"Oh, yeah," Ben said. "How do you want me?"

"Just fuck me," you said. "And try not to talk."

"Bossy, much?" Ben said, coming over to the bed.He walked over to the bed, and climbed on top of you. You felt his hands squeezing your breasts. You moaned softly.

"You have such nice tits," he purred, latching his mouth onto a nipple.

You glared at him, although it's hard to keep a straight face when his teeth graze the hardened bud.

"Right, not talking," he said.

He bent down, and kissed your neck. You felt his tongue on your skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt his cock rubbing against your entrance. You moaned needily.

He grabbed his cock, and guided it inside of you. You moaned loudly as he entered you. You felt his cock sliding in and out of you. You felt his weight pressing down on you. You moaned and whimpered, relishing in the feeling of being so full.

"F-fuck," you moaned. "You're so fucking big."

Ben smirked. He grabbed your ass, and began pounding you harder. You felt his balls slapping against your ass. You felt his cock rubbing against your pussy.

"O-oh god," you moaned.

"You like that?" Ben asked. "You like my cock fucking your tight little pussy?"

You didn't respond.

Ben grabbed your hair, and pulled your head back. You cried out in pain. He began fucking you harder and faster. You felt his cock hitting your g-spot. You felt your body quiver. You felt your pussy tightening around his cock. You felt his balls slapping against your skin. You felt your juices coating his cock. You felt him hitting your g-spot over and over again.

"You like that?" he asked. "You like my fat dick fucking your tight little pussy?"

You were about to respond, but Ben cut you off.

"Don't answer me," he said. "You're mine. You belong to me. Say it."

"I'm yours," you moaned, not even caring about what you had said earlier, too lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"I'm yours," you groaned.

Ben continued pounding you. You felt your body shaking. You felt your orgasm building inside you.

"Fuck," you moaned. "I'm gonna cum!"

Ben grinned. "Yeah, I bet you are," he said. "Go ahead and cum."

You moaned loudly as you came. Your pussy convulsed around his cock. Your juices flowed down his cock and onto his balls.

"Fuck," he moaned. "That's right, you little slut. Cum for me."

Ben began thrusting faster. You felt his cock slamming into your cervix. You felt his balls slapping against your ass.

"Ah, fuck," he moaned. "That's right. You like that, don't you?"

"Mmm, yes," you moaned. "Yes, I do."

Ben smirked. "You're such a good little slut," he said. "Now, get on your hands and knees."

You obeyed.

"You know what to do," he said.

You crawled toward him, and positioned yourself between his legs. You looked up at him. He grabbed your head, and pulled it toward his cock. You took him in your mouth.

You sucked on his cock.

"Mmm, yeah," he moaned. "That's a good girl."

You sucked harder. You licked the tip of his cock.

"Ah, yeah," he groaned. "Keep going."

You felt his hand grab your hair. You felt him push your head further down his cock. You felt him force his entire cock down your throat. You felt him hit the back of your throat.

"Oh, yeah," he moaned. "Suck my cock."

You moaned as you sucked him.

He thrust his hips upward, forcing his cock further down your throat. You choked and gagged on his cock.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth.

"On the bed," he said.

You did as he commanded. You got on the bed, and spread your legs. He got between your legs, and grabbed your thighs.

He slammed his cock into your pussy.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned.

He fucked you hard and fast. He gripped your thighs tightly. He pushed your legs up toward your chest. He fucked you harder and deeper.

"Ah, fuck," he moaned. "Your pussy is so fucking tight."

"Yes," you moaned.

He grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. He held them down with one hand. He pounded your pussy.

"You like that, you little slut?" he asked.

"Mmm, yes," you moaned.

"Good," he said.

He let go of your wrists, and grabbed your ass. He squeezed it.

"Mmm, your ass is so tight," he said.

"Please, fuck me harder," you moaned.

He obliged. He fucked you hard and fast. He held your legs apart. He pounded your pussy.

"Ah, fuck, I'm gonna cum," he moaned.

"Yes," you moaned. "Cum inside me."

He slammed his cock deep into your pussy. He filled you with his cum. He kept thrusting, shooting his seed deep into your womb.

"Mmm, fuck," he moaned.

He kept fucking you.

"Mmm, your pussy feels so good," he said.

"Y-yeah, m-me too," you moaned.

He thrust a few more times, then pulled out.

"Shit," he said.

He collapsed next to you.

"Wow," you said.

"Yeah," he said.

You turned toward him. You stared into his eyes.

"That was incredible," you said.

"You were incredible," he said.

You kissed him. He wrapped his arms around you. You felt his warm breath on your skin.

You pulled away from the kiss.

"Are you sure you don't want to date me?"

"No," you said.

"Okay," he said.

You lay back down, and closed your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you said.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's cool."

"I just don't want to have any feelings for you."

"Why not?"

"Because, you're an asshole," you said.

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think the new division of Cartoon Network Studios will end up exploiting and abusing AI to make new cartoons of their old properties?

I wouldn't put it past any studio to do this.

We're at the end of The Animation Industry As We Know It, so studios are going to do anything and everything they can to stay alive.

The way I see it is:

AI "art" isn't actually art. Art is created by humans to express ideas and emotions. Writing prompts allows a computer to interpret human ideas and emotions by taking other examples of those things and recombining them.

Just because something isn't art doesn't mean that humans can't understand it or find it beautiful. We passed a really fun prompt generation milestone about a year ago where everything looked like it was made by a Dadaist or someone on heavy psychedelics. Now we're at the Uncanny Valley stage. Soon, you won't be able to tell the difference.

It's not just drawings and paintings that are effected, but writing and film. It's every part of the entertainment industry. And the genie is out of the bottle. I've seen people saying that prompt-based image generators have "democratized" art. And I see where they're coming from. In ten years, I can easily see a future where anyone can sit down at their desk, have a short conversation with their computer, and have a ready-to-watch, custom movie with flawless special effects, passable story, and a solid three act structure. You want to replace Harrison Ford in Star Wars with your little brother and have Chewbacca make only fart sounds, and then they fly to Narnia and fistfight Batman? Done.

But, sadly, long before we reach that ten year mark, the bots will get hold of this stuff and absolutely lay waste to existing art industries. Sure, as a prompter I guess you can be proud of the hours or days you put into crafting your prompts, but you know what's better than a human at crafting prompts? Bots. Imagine bots cranking out hundreds of thousands of full-length feature films per minute. The noise level will squash almost any organic artist or AI prompter out of existence.

AI images trivialize real art. The whole point of a studio is to provide the money, labor, and space to create these big, complicated art projects. But if there are no big, complicated art projects, no creatives leading the charge, and no employees to pay... what the fuck do we need studios for? We won't, but their sheer wealth and power will leave them forcing themselves on us for the rest of our lives.

The near future will see studios clamp down on the tech in order to keep it in their own hands. Disney does tons of proprietary tech stuff, so I'm sure they're ahead of the game. Other studios will continue to seek mergers until they can merge with a content distribution platform. I've heard rumors of Comcast wanting to buy out either WB or Nick. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about. The only winners of this game will be the two or three super-huge distribution platforms who can filter out enough of the spam (which they themselves are likely perpetuating) to provide a reasonable entertainment experience.

400,000 channels and nothing's on.

I do think that money will eventually make the "you can't copyright AI stuff" thing go away. There's also the attrition of "Oh, whoops! We accidentally put an AI actor in there and no one noticed for five years, so now it's cool."

One way or another, it's gonna be a wild ride. As the canary in the coal mine, I hope we can all get some UBI before I'm forced to move into the sewers and go full C.H.U.D.

[melissaleftenright]

Ride the Cyclone: In defense of Uranium Suite

"Ride the Cyclone" is a musical about death, and love, and choices.

Writing is also about death, and love, and most of all, choices.

One significant (publicly visible) choice in the writing of "Ride the Cyclone" was in the opening ensemble number. The show has had a few as its worked through the refining process.

(Theatre is never really done - its created every night, in front of the audience. But this is about the writing.)

The two most well known opening ensemble numbers, as far as I'm aware, are "Fall Fair Suite" and "Uranium Suite". FFS appeared in one of the most popular productions (and bootlegs), while US appeared on the soundtrack and productions going forward.

Online, I've seen a lot of folks prefer FFS. And its a great number! I really like it, and I wish it was included on the soundtrack as a bonus track. (Shout out to "Be Safe, Be Good" and "A World Inside" - I love both of them)

But I think "Uranium Suite" better fits the show, the characters, and the journey of it all. (Naturally, spoilers for the entirety of "Ride the Cyclone" below.)

Most of the characters want to escape Uranium:

Ocean wants to be the first female Prime Minister of Canada (which would take her to Ottawa)

Noel wants to move to France (and travel in time)

Mischa wants to return to Ukraine

Ricky wants to embrace his destiny as the savior of Zolar

Constance reminds them all about the beautiful things they experienced in their lives, and in Uranium. And this is where the show ends - with them appreciating each other, and their experiences of their short lives - including the joy they felt on the Cyclone before the accident.

"Fall Fair Suite" has a lot of bitterness about their deaths, and the things they did or didn't do. "What a load of freaking junk!" "Dead, we're done! There's no undoing! // Nothing left to do except to rot!" "Algebra 12, kiss my ass!" "How can this be fair?!"

"Uranium Suite" is all about Uranium City - it starts in the actual choral performance, with all the cheesy love and endearment you would expect from a high school choir teacher. But then it shifts to the crash - but its also about the failing state of Uranium City. "The smart ones all packed up and went" "Empty streets of empty shops // shuttered rows of Mom and Pops" "Build yourself a funeral pyre" "We'll never leave this town alive".

Constance is the one who takes them to her Sugar Cloud - and ultimately, this is the comfort that allows them to send Penny Lamb on her way and face the unknown of what comes next.

[hainethehero]

Steve Rogers Trauma: A TED TALK

Why is it that any kind of commentary/analysis on Steve Roger's trauma has to be met with comparisons to Bucky or Tony's trauma? Or most of the fanfics I read completely gloss over Steve's trauma?

Some of y'all legit do not care or are blind to Steve Roger's trauma throughout the Captain America & Avengers films and it shows. And this isn't hate to any fanfic writers but rather an observation of most stucky and stony fanfics which seem to minimize Steve's character & trauma in favour of highlighting their fave's. And of course it's fine that people want to write about Bucky or Tony or even Nat's trauma, but MOST TIMES* I've read these fics and they all have an intentional disregard for Steve's traumas.

And this speaks to the wider discourse around Tony, Bucky & Steve- the three characters most written about in mcu fanfics.

Because why is it that anytime I bring up Steve's PTSD or his illnesses or the hell he would've gone through pre-serum, people always HAVE to add in their 2cents about, "well yeah & Bucky went through worse." Like.???? No, I'm not talking about him.

I absolutely love Bucky and he's one of my favourite characters in both the comics and the MCU but, respectfully, this ain't about him.

I'm talking about Steve and his life. The crap he would've had to deal with both in public and at home. Especially the horrors both he and Sarah would've gone through because of Joseph Rogers who was a terrible person and an alcoholic who beat up on his wife and sickly kid.

And even post-serum when he's completely healthy and living in the future now, I'm still seeing popular narratives about "Yeah he's alive now & hasn't gone through half of what Bucky's endured over the past 70yrs." OR "He's had it easy compared to Bucky who was being tortured by HYDRA."

Um, no one's saying Bucky's treatment under HYDRA was a good thing??? But we're talking about Steve here, not Bucky?

And how he was literally frozen in a state of purgatory & how traumatic it would feel to be ripped out of it and then basically thrown to the new world on your ass without any kind of therapy or help. Most people make it seem like Steve was in a Sleeping Beauty kind of sleep and then woke up completely fine. And I will admit the MCU has been the main culprit of that narrative because they deleted so many scenes that humanized Steve Rogers, that now the gen pop thinks:

he's perfectly fine

has zero trauma

should complain about nothing

hasn't had it hard like Bucky or Tony

is a lesser hero because of all of the above

I recently had a convo with a friend & we were talking abt the scene in Avengers 1 when they were all at each other's throats. And they said that Tony was right about Steve being a laboratory experiment & everything special about him came out of a bottle. And I'm like... yeah nah, that's the lazy ass writing that Whedon perpetuated that now makes Steve one of the most misunderstood heroes & people in the MCU. Because he was special before the serum because of his consideration of others. He was special because not only did he hate bullies, but he also went out of his way to protect those that couldn't protect themselves KNOWING what that confrontation might cost him as a chronically sick person. Tony needed a whole ass arc about literally witnessing & living first hand what his weapons were doing to innocents like Yinsen & his people, to change his ways. Steve didn't have, nor did he need any of that to make him special. (AND BEFORE THE TONY STANS COME FOR ME, I LOVE TONY, HE'S LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVES IN THE MARVEL COMICS & MCU) But this hatred for Steve is ridiculous.

And once again, it's the MCUs fault because they made Tony the ultimate hero of the Avengers at the expense of Steve Rogers' character. Him being able to prove he was "worthy" all along by lifting Thor's hammer was a cheap payoff in the end, much like the entirety of Endgame was. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[i-cant-sing]

May I request Todoroki family with a reader with a birthmark /port wine stain on their face? I feel like they’d be smothered even further (the reader can also joke about getting free laser surgery cause when that shit happens it smells like burning flesh (a jab at Dani lmao))

Portwine stain used to be my fav topic ever. Like you could ask me anything in pathology and I don't think I'd remember it, but someone even hints at it and ID KNOW WE'RE TALKING ABOUT PORTWINE STAIN cause like the moment I saw pictures of it on patients, I was like "?????? How is the name so ACCURATE????"

So with Todoroki fam, I think their reaction is mostly based on how you feel about your skin. So, if you're like more confident and rip anyone a new one if they try to bully you, they're also gonna treat you very normally (except maybe Rei). But if you're insecure about your face, then they're just gonna baby you to the max as well. Rei is always cooing and going over the top with compliments "aww baby, you're always beautiful in my eyes! You're like a pretty princess! I'm your mother, I would never lie!"

Enji mostly tries to encourage you with few but deep words, something along the lines of "beauty always fades away. It's what on the inside what matters. Make yourself so skillful and abled that you don't allow this to be a barrier between you and opportunities. I'll always support you." And obviously, he'd pay bucks if you want to remove this stain/mark.

Natsuo again, using his few years experience as a medical professional or as a med student will try to comfort you like a psychiatrist and also bring in derma creams and ointments that's ij research phases and not easily accessible to the general population.

Fuyumi again, coddles you but less patronising than Rei. She does want you tell her all about it, whether if someone said something even slightly mean to you, so that she can tattle to Dabi about it and he can "deal" with the person.

Shotou is the most indifferent to it. Like there isn't much difference to how he'd react if you didn't have this mark. He's still as attention deprived as ever and he's still sticking by your side, and maybe deep down, he might even feel closer to you now that you have a portwine stain/birthmark on your face.

Dabi... well, ofcourse his first reaction is to tease you about it, relentlessly. But if youre actually super insecure about your looks, then he's also the one who's super understanding and helpful. Like he finds you crying as you look at yourself in the mirror, he just sighs and walks over before breaking the mirror and engulfing you in a hug. Probes very carefully until you confess to him that someone said something very awful to you.

He comforts you, makes you his signature marshmallow hot chocolate and then pays a visit to said bully and like.... mutilates them very badly, beyond recognition, but still keeps them alive so that they get to live through the agony and dilemma you do on the daily.

[gingiesworld]

Even In Death

Natasha Romanoff x GN! Maximoff Reader

Warnings: Violence. Torture. Death.

18+ MINORS DNI

Taglist @gb12d @lifespectator

Now

The compound was extremely silent. There was no laughter. No joy. Just pain and anguish could be felt as soon as you walk inside. All of the team were off doing there own thing.

Tony remained in his lab, scouring through every nook and cranny he could think of until he found a sign. A sign that Y/N Maximoff was still alive.

"It's been over 6 months Tony." Steve stated as Tony shook his head no. "They are dead by now if Hydra has them."

"NO! I am not giving up on them." Tony told him sternly. Steve sighed as Bucky entered the lab with two cups of hot coffee, handing one to Tony.

"You believe this fools errand too?" Steve questioned his friend.

"I do." Bucky told him. "We never leave a man behind, that's what you told me." He used the Captain's own words, like a knife straight to Steve's heart.

Although with Y/N gone, there was a huge hole in the family. Everyone was drifting, surviving, just barely living. Both Wanda and Natasha had barely left their rooms.

Wanda held the bracelet Y/N had gotten her in her hand, it was the first thing she had gotten since they lost their homeland. Her first birthday spent on foriegn soil, and her older sibling made it the best experience she could have had, regarding the loss of Pietro. Her eyes teared up at the engraving in the gold.

'My Butterfly' was the name that Y/N had always called her since they were children. They were their protector, especially after they had lost their parents in the bombing. Y/N made sure the twins had food and shelter, safe from the soldiers that still roamed the streets of Sokovia.

While Nat lay in their bed, numbness had overtaken her as she had cried all of her tears. She knows that Tony wouldn't give up on them, they were like a kid to him. Especially as they took an interest in his inventions and such. Wanting to learn from the genius himself.

Nat sobbed at the memories she had with them. The moment they confessed their feelings to her.

Then

Y/N and Natasha were sparring, Y/N wanted to brush up on their hand to hand combat since they have barely trained since they were a part of the Winter Soldier Programme. Escaping Siberia before they put the remaining five into cryofreeze. Finding their way back to Sokovia just in time to find their siblings.

"Fuck." Nat groaned as she lay on the mat, Y/N held their hand out for her to take but she just tackled them to the ground herself. A smirk dorned on her face as she straddled their lap, a victorious smirk on her face.

"Do you know you're actually beautiful." Y/N stated making the assassin blush profusely.

"What?" Nat questioned confused.

"Would you like to have dinner with me." They asked her confidently.

"Yeah." She whispered in shock as she removed herself from them.

"Great. How does Friday at 7pm sound?" They asked as they sat up. Nat just nodded before Y/N smiled, kissing her head before they left the training room with a pep in their step.

Now

Wanda tried to use her powers, she could still feel their connection, hoping to find a way of finding out where they could be. Soon screaming as she felt pain, alerting Natasha and Vision.

"What is it?" Nat questioned with worry.

"Pain." Wanda whispered as she squeezed her eyes closed. "They're in pain. So much pain."

"They're torturing them." Nat whispered, declaring their worst fears as she turned to Vision. "Help Tony find a location. Search every traffic cam in the world. We need to find them."

"Yes Ma'am." He told her before he disappeared.

"We're going to bring them home." Nat told the witch who only nodded. Tears falling from her eyes as she held onto Nat for dear life.

Then

Y/N and Wanda were having their daily walk through the compound grounds. Wanda held onto their arm. Y/N had been on multiple dates with Nat, well given it has been 6 months since they asked her to be theirs and she of course said yes.

"I'm in love with Nat." Y/N told her as Wanda just smirked.

"I know." Wanda spoke softly. "I see the way you look at her, just how Papa used to look at Mama."

"I want to tell her but I am nervous." They whispered. "What if she doesn't feel the same way?" They questioned unsurely as Wanda smiled endearingly at them.

"I can say this much, she most definitely feels the same way." Wanda told them. "And if she isn't ready to say those three words then that doesn't mean it is the end of you both."

Now

Tony, Bucky and Vision worked endlessly to find a location, using every tool they had to find Y/N. Wanting to bring them home where they belong.

"I'm not getting anything." Tony groaned as Vision turned to him.

"It appears that you haven't slept in days sir." Vision told him. "I can always carry on the search while you both rest."

"No." Tony shook his head. "I have to find them Vision. I have to." He muttered as he continued to search.

As the hours went on, Nat stayed with Wanda, laying in her bed as Wanda slept for the first time in a while. Everything within the compound didn't feel right to them, especially when Y/N wasn't there.

Then

Nat was shocked when Y/N turned up at her door at 2am. Watching as they paced her floor as she sat on her bed.

"What is it?" Nat pressed on as Y/N paused their movements.

"I am in love with you Natasha." They breathed as she watched them. "I have for a while, I knew the moment you cried at that movie Wanda recommended to you and you forced me to watch it. That moment I knew I wanted to be with you for the rest of our lives." They gazed at her softly. "I love you Nat, and I don't expect you to say it until you are ready. I just needed to get it off of my chest."

Nat rose to her feet and stood before them, holding their face in her hands as she gazed in her eyes, inhaling shakily before she spoke.

"I am so in love with you Y/N, there isn't really enough ways that I can show you how much I love you." She told them emotionally, they caressed her cheek as their other hand held her hip, soon placing a loving kiss to her lips.

"Just being by my side is enough to show me." They told her before kissing her once more.

Now

It had been days since Wanda had felt the connection with her sibling, although it gave her some hope that they may be just in time, but she always dreaded the high possibility that they may be too late.

The pain was too much for them to bare, the countless burns and lacerations turned into beatings with a crowbar. Broken ribs and a punctured lung, something they didn't need a doctor to know about. Their face was almost unrecognisable as they were covered in cuts and bruises.

Even tied to the chair, their head was too heavy for them to keep up. Even as the cell door opened, wheels sounding on the concrete floor as a trolley of instruments was wheeled inside.

"You know, in some countries they removed nails as a form of torture." The agent spoke. "Something about the acute pain from it can make someone pass out from the simple technique." They gripped Y/N's hair, pulling their head back as they smirked. "And this has surely been the best six months of my career." They let go of Y/N's head, letting it drop harshly before they picked up some pliers. Gripping Y/N's thumb and getting the pliers in position of gripping the fingernail, soon pulling hard and steady as Y/N let out a scream. The sound of the nail being ripped from the bed was muffled by the screams.

The agent relished in the pain he was inflicting, the agonising screams were like music to his ears. Even the previous wounds they had treated, only to be reopened again and again.

"Your beloved sister isn't going to save you in time." They sneered as Y/N groaned in pain as they worked on a third nail. "You will be dead before they even find a location." They looked at their hand before lifting their head up. "And don't think we don't know about your friendship with the traitor either. James Buchanon Barnes will meet the same fate as the Maximoff siblings."

As they were busy inflicting agonising pain on Y/N, Tony and Bucky had come up with a plan. The two of them, with the help of Vision had started to look at old SHIELD bases that were no longer in service.

"There's one right outside of New Jersey." Bucky told them.

"Why would they be so close to us?" Tony questioned.

"The closer they are, the less likely we are to check." Bucky told him. "Hydra know what we think like, they have been inside of Shield for decades and we never knew."

"Ok." Tony hummed. "I'll use the Stark Satellites to get a thorough scan of the base, search for heat signatures."

"I'll get the jet ready." Bucky stated as he ran straight for the hangar. As Bucky was running through the compound, Vision decided to notify both Natasha and Wanda.

"We may have a location." He told the two as he phased through the wall. The two didn't need to be told twice before getting in their suits ready before heading down towards the hangar, seeing Tony, Steve, Clint and Bucky already there.

"Are you sure they're at this location?" Steve questioned as the two girls walked.

"Yeah, why would Hydra use old Shield bases?" Clint questioned as Tony groaned.

"If this is a possible location to find Y/N and bring them home, that is what we are going to be doing so deal with it." Nat bit at the two as she and Wanda got on the jet. As Tony came up with a plan, Steve and Clint remained silent as everyone listened to their parts.

"We don't know the extent of Y/N's injuries so we need to get to them and fast." Bucky told them. "So none of this protecting the lives of the enemy shit. Shoot to kill."

"We don't fight like this." Steve told them as Tony just laughed. "It makes us no better than the enemy."

"Giving up makes us no better than the enemy." Tony sneered at him as everyone watched Steve shrink. "We do the plan our way and that's final."

Soon enough, the jet was fadt approaching the location, everyone made sure they had everything they had needed so they can just leave the jet.

"Vision, you go ahead and phase through." Tony told him. "You will be the one to get to them quicker as the rest of us take care of the agents." Everyone watched as Vision disappeared through the wall. "Let's do this." Tony told them as everyone went to their assigned locations.

Fighting agent after agent as they made their way through the base. Aiming to kill each of them, even with the disapproval of Captain America. Vision blasted the Agent who was in the cell with Y/N, plunging a knife in their stomach.

"I have them." Vision notified the others. "But their vitals are weak."

"Get them to the jet." Tony told him. "Bruce is there ready to start." Vision done as he was ordered, racing through the corridors, finding Bucky and Clint who covered him towards the exit.

"Everyone retreat to the jet!" Bucky ordered the others who only followed. Once Vision was on the jet, he placed Y/N on the stretcher as Bruce started to hook them up to the machines and a drip. He could tell that this was indeed an unsuccessful rescue with the extremely slow heart.

"There isn't anything you can do is there?" Vision asked him as he shook his head.

"They won't survive the flight." He admitted sadly as both Nat and Wanda rushed to their side.

"Y/N, baby." Nat cupped their face, a weak smile forming on their face as they opened their eyes weakly to gaze up at her.

"Hi." He whispered hoarsely. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." She whispered as the tears started to fall. "So much."

"You're going to be ok." Wanda stated as she approached the other side of them. They glanced over at their younger sister, reaching for her hand. They shook their head with a small smile.

"I'm not." They whispered as everyone stayed around them as the A.I flew the remainder of the journey. "I am living on borrowed time because I wanted to see my family one last time."

"You're going to be ok." Nat told them frantically. "Bruce is going to save you, right Bruce?" Bruce looked away with his eyes squeezed closed, unable to look at anyone.

"He can't." Y/N told her. "And that's ok."

"No it's not." Wanda cried as Y/N wiped her tears away.

"I'm sorry Butterfly but I am going to die." They whispered. "But I have lived a good life. The best life. I got to see you grow up into this wonderful woman. This hero who is going to take Hydra down." They turned to Tony who also had tears falling. "Thank you Tony for letting me know what it's like to have a father again, but please try to rest. Saving the world shouldn't always be on your shoulders." They said their goodbyes to everyone before they turned to Natasha, holding her saddened gaze. "I love you Natasha, there isn't really any other way for me to say it."

"Just stay by my side." She told them, using their own words as they took a labored breath.

"I will always be by your side." They told her. "Even in death my soul is meant to be yours." Natasha kissed their lips one last time before they looked between everyone. "Thank you for being my family." They turned to Bucky and Vision. "Please look after my girls."

"We will." The two spoke in unison as Y/N soon closed their eyes. "I love you all." Everyone watched as they took their last breath, slipping away from the family they haf built over the years, reuniting with the family they had lost.

The funeral was a small service, just the people who were close to them. Heartfelt words and stories were shared from the people who had known them. But as everyone filtered out, leaving just Nat and Wanda stood at the foot of the grave.

"Y/N was going to propose." Wanda stated as she reached inside her pocket, holding a small velvet box in her hand. "They really wanted to spend the rest of their life with you."

"I would have said yes in a heartbeat." Natasha told her as Wanda smiled.

"Take it." Wanda told her. "It's yours anyway." Nat opened the box, a small smile on her face as she saw the ring. Wanda watched as the assassin took it from the box and placed it on her ring finger. "Right where it belongs." Wanda smiled as Nat wrapped her arm around the witch's shoulder. The two of them vowing silently to Y/N to look after the other. Especially since family is everything.

[mymarifae]

i just want to share my thoughts about akito and Death. because even now—even off the back of an event like burn my soul—people STILL talk about him like he's an explicitly depressed, suicidal character whose every action is cause for concern.

i think the idea that akito is suicidal has been floating around for a very long time. and while it's not entirely without merit (more on this in a bit), it's still a misconception. and it really feels like kashika exacerbated the issue. which is unfortunate! it's sad to see such a beautiful song be misinterpreted like this.

now don't get me wrong! kashika is about death. but two things:

1. kashika may have been written for akito, but it's not just for him. it's also deeply personal to ryo haruka. there are certainly similarities and haruryo undoubtedly understood everything akito felt during the events that led up to the crawl green incident, but i don't think it's entirely fair to equate his very real emotions and struggles to those of a fictional character. he and akito share kashika! you can interpret it through either lens, but trying to do so through both is where things start getting messy

2. whiiiiich leads me to my second point. who decided that the only way to interpret kashika and its themes of death is literally?

i think it's pretty common for people to automatically interpret any themes of death literally—or at least very negatively. we're naturally conditioned to fear death, and then we're taught to fear it even more. it's the change. it's the unknown. it's the very idea of an "end." most people aren't very fond of these things! understandably so. but personally? i think the symbolism that can exist behind death is beautiful.

Death is the 13th card of the major arcana. above all else, it symbolizes change (positive change; it's always, always about what's ultimately best for you). Death tells you it's time to move forward; this part of your life is done. there is more waiting for you—new opportunities, new experiences, a brighter, more fulfilling future—but you must be prepared to let go.

the habits and routines you have now? the mindsets that have kept you alive? your current sense of self? whatever it is, whatever Death is asking for, you have to let it "die." it won't serve you anymore. it will only drag you down. and it might be terrifying and you might not be able to comprehend what lies ahead and you might want to kick and scream and struggle, but you can't cling forever. endings are never easy, and sometimes they hurt like hell, but with each end comes a new beginning.

and yes if you've read burn my soul this should all sound very familiar lol:

looking at death from this perspective, kashika and the entirety of find a way out should read a lot more like akito caught on the cusp of a monumental transformation. suspended between "life" (the old) and "death" (the new) so to speak.

up to this point he's been fueled by spite and desperation. two very intense, very negative emotions—but it's an intensity that worked. everyone else on vivid street had years of musical experience, and he had 0. he needed to catch up and he needed to catch up quickly because it's not like he could put the whole world on pause. he could take his time to learn the basics, sure, but every other vivid street musician would continue improving and growing while he did that. there would always be a gap between him and Them.

unless... he worked harder—WAY harder—than all of them combined.

and maybe that wouldn't do it either. maybe he would be stuck in place forever, always playing catch-up, always struggling to stay afloat, always being left behind. he knew this. and he knew the amount of destruction he'd end up inflicting upon himself if he went down this path. but in his mind, it was okay. it was worth it. because he'd rather die endlessly pursuing what he loves most than live not trying at all.

but in find a way out, when facing off against his old bullies, he starts to realize that he was wrong. he's not just stuck in place. he bridged the gap a long time ago, and he almost didn't even notice. and where he's going now, spite and desperation are the wrong emotions to sing from. he needs to let the unhealthy, extreme mindsets die, but also it's hard to let go of something when you would have given up a long long long LONG time ago without it.

but with time, and enough poking and prodding from ken and luka, he does it. he lets go. he lets the old parts of him die, and he passes on to the next stage of his life.

akito's character arc has always been about growth. improvement. learning. Becoming Better. and not just in a musical sense although Yes That Is A Huge Part Of It. his arc is also about his growth as a person. it's about him becoming more confident, and learning how to be kinder and more patient with both himself and other people. it's about him learning how to let his walls down and let his loved ones in. and to trust that they won't start kicking him to death once they're in there.

it's about him learning to exchange the Spite and Desperation for Passion and Love.

it's about him becoming happier.

which is why it's so fucking startling when people talk about him like he's suicidal and on the verge of a breakdown. like, woah, what?

as i said though, kashika isn't the only source of this misconception and i find more merit in the other sources because they're actual aspects of his character and scenes in the story and not song lyrics that shouldn't have been read so literally in the first place. like, yeah. we've seen a ton of unhealthy behavior out of akito. he's had a very extreme perspective on his place in the world from a super early age, and while the severity frequently gets exaggerated in fanon spaces, the shinonome household isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

he's been moody, he's been prickly and abrasive, he's lashed out. he keeps most people at arm's length and builds walls so high not even toya can get through them at first. he had to! he wouldn't have survived if he didn't! like, he was targeted and bullied by a group of adults when he first started singing on vivid street. that is actually a genuinely traumatizing thing to happen to a kid!

so no, i'm not against the idea that akito has experienced depression and suicidal ideation in the past. kinda comes naturally with the territory he ended up in. but that's the key word: past.

i get confused when the idea is dragged into the present. because again! the whole point of his character arc is he's overcome all that PAST adversity! recovery isn't linear but we're not about to see him hit rock bottom any time soon. or ever, actually. you know why? because we've already seen his rock bottom. stray bad dog. that event was his big breakdown moment. that's what opened him up to try to start healing.

we're not getting another stray bad dog. stop expecting another stray bad dog.

he's alright, i promise. he's growing up. he's gotten better. he knows he belongs in vivid bad squad. he knows he's loved. he knows his friends will be there to catch him when he falls. he's always been strong, but now he's even stronger. he's excited for his future, and i think we should be too.

[madbalalaika]

Your pirates of the Caribbean fanart is so beautiful! Please, please share tips for how to do that beautiful painting technique you used! <3

Hi, anon! Thank you so much, both for the compliment, and for the question💗✨

Edit: I've reached the 30 pics per post limit and will have to make a part 2, oopsie daisies. But I'm sure it won't be as long as this :"D

In terms of technique, I guess it depends which part exactly you're talking about, because most of it is just oil painting+pencil drawing made digital, where I sort of block my colours first, then blend as I see fit (or in some parts don't blend at all, which is what some classical painters do; it's really just habits and preferences from years of experience) and add details using a pencil brush.

If you're interested, stay tuned as I try and give some tips while showing my whole process using this lovely photo of Commodore as an example:

Part 1. The basics

I usually only use these 2 brushes, just because I like them a lot, rarely more than that; and I've changed the settings on the second one so it rotates in the direction of a stroke instead of being at a fixed angle.

SO, firstly I just make a sketch of course, then make a very rough base colour layer underneath it, not too dark, not too light, and fill in the background with a solid colour.

(don't be fooled, I don't actually name my layers cause I'm way too lazy for that)

Since we're talking about digital painting here, my biggest tip would be to make a habit of picking the right colours manually, like you would an for an actual oil painting, instead of using the eyedropper tool on the source. Colour matching is an insanely useful skill, it's like relative pitch in music, or an accurate eye in architecture; while it's not absolutely necessary to have it, you'll want it if you want less burden on your brain and more freedom of expression. "Learn the rules to learn to break them" kind of thing (and you'll be able to match the colours to the picture in your head as well, how cool is that? Hehe) I've done this so much that at this point I just do it for the hell of it. It's very fun :D And, as you might've guessed, I do it for the entirety of the process, with some rare exceptions. While I used to do so in the past, I don't like to use blending modes (eg. soft light, overlay, multiply, etc.) for shading anymore. I find it takes all the excitement out of the whole process for the sake of cheap dopamine, and it used to hinder my skill development because I wasn't learning to "speak the language" of art, I just "used google translate", so to speak.

Anyways... A sketch, then a rough midtone colour layer underneath + background:

Another great tip: I learned it from a video on good costume design in fantasy, which is so unrelated to painting that you're probably like "wha- what..?", BUT... the tip was "the costumes don't have to be historically accurate, they just have to make sense in the story". Your colours don't have to match your reference perfectly, they just have to make sense inside the painting, and that's what will make your art feel alive (along with other things ofc).

Next I create another layer on top of all that and get to actually paint, and this is where the blocking part comes in.

There is a really good video on this subject if you want to learn this kind of technique, and an Instagram page of a different artist that I've been immensely admiring for some time now. Although now that I think about it, neither of them use midtones as a base... Anyway,

I start with the darkest shadows, moving on towards lighter ones, noting some places where the they reflect more blueish/grayish tones of his uniform on his neck and jawline, and where they reflect the reddish environment on his nose, temple, cheek, ear, and neck.

Another great artist to help improve lighting skills.

I frequently make new layers on top of everything as I go, just so that I have some room for error and can delete them later if I'm not satisfied, and then merge them down if I am, because I hate being indecisive with too many changes, and having unnecessary clutter.

Sometimes if I don't like how a certain colour looks on the painting, I undo the stroke (or paint on top, if it's too late to undo) and just tweak it on the wheel until it looks right to my eye and move on. Eg. on the next screenshot, I didn't like how that blue from the sketch looked one the screenshot before, so I adjusted it a little with Hue/Saturation.

I also like to slightly exaggerate the palette so that it looks a bit more interesting:

The last thing I usually do is light, with tiny highlights being the absolute last, because both are very easy to overdo. I manually pick the colour from the colour wheel, make a few strokes where it's supposed to be the brightest, and then use eyedropper tool to sample different spots from the freshly-painted areas to make it easier to blend.

Now while that colour might look pretty light, it isn't light at all. To be fair, the difference between light and shadow isn't even that big sometimes. I used to overshoot with either of them in the past, picking either too light or too dark, and was frustrated and baffled why my painting was looking as shit as it was.

So I guess another tip: for lights, pick the colour much closer to your midtone than you think you need, and then adjust accordingly. The reason being: your eyes and brain are partners in crime and are constantly lying to you.

The (I guess second) base is done, and at this point, it's just a matter of staring at his face for 2, or however long, hours and adding more and more strokes, sampling different spots between them, until I like how it looks.

Sometimes, if I realize that either the proportions are a bit off or some lines don't look the way they're supposed to, I use some Photoshop tools to my advantage. I merge everything together (cause at this point I really don't plan on changing the sketch itself or the background), and use Liquify to move things around. So now it's a one-layer painting, just like the real deal lol

And then I continue doing the same thing I'd done before with all the other parts.

Liquify on his face:

I only lightly paint over most sketch lines because I'm really not that concerned about some of them peeking out, especially at this stage, nor am I very pedantic.

Don't forget about subsurface scattering in areas where light meets shadow, of course:

If I see a place like this where I need a smooth gradient but don't feel like actually doing it cause it'll ruin the ~vibe~, and really, I just wanna add more a bit more pizzazz, I just take the pencil brush and hatch over it instead, alternating the darker and the lighter tones.

The caravat:

A lot of the time professional artists will advise you to look for simple shapes in things - squares, circles, triangles, rhombuses, etc. I'm no exception. Simple shapes will let you see patterns and some sort of order. It's easier to understand complex shapes that way, whether it be fabric, faces/bodies, or inanimate objects.

As you can see here, my brain mostly likes to look for triangles, or half-circles. It just feels right 👌

The wig:

I learned to use translucency, with hair and light fabrics fading into background, from watching and doing watercolour. Here's one of my all-time favourite watercolour artists that does that sometimes, and it looks absolutely stunning: 미술부화실 misulbu

The waistcoat and the jacket:

The hat:

Another thing to point out, if you haven't noticed already, I really like my stokes straight unlike myself, with exceptions, of course. It's another habit I picked up from watching other people draw, as well as my years of studying art professionally. Teachers taught me to use straight criss-crossing hatches to indicate form, instead of curved ones (there was a really cool tiktok showing that kind of technique, but I can't find it :(). Not that I follow their advice in its intended way majority of the time lololol but um... yeah...

So anyway, this is the end of part 1, I'll try to finish the second part tomorrow. It will be about smaller details, texture, and an tiiiny bit of 🔥grime🔥

[forthevillains]

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ANSWERED OMG— okokok THANKS, and sorry but if it's confusing, it's because English is not my first language.

I was thinking about Albert Wesker with Fem!Reader being a poor woman; from a negligent family, with a disastrous job and in general, a miserable life. He takes the same simple interest in her as he did in the later mother of his child (if we're talking about the canonical story of the game), but what if Fem!Reader rejects him? How would Albert react to a woman saying 'no' to him after he offers her financial security, sex and money?

I have a little theory that he would have sexist ideas about women like Fem!Reader, who aren't looking for something better for themselves—but the truth is that his ego was bruised, and eventually he is drawn to her even more strongly. Such is the intensity of his longing for this woman that Albert questions whether it would be right to continue, considering that he gets bored of people quickly.

In a nutshell? I'm thirsty for a pathetic and perverse Wesker, desperate to conquer and possess a woman who isn't the least bit interested in him. He would become more and more insistent, bordering on insanity and obsession for her.

Sorry, I got hooked watching Wesker's edits and that's how I got hooked lmao😔

Ok no I love this idea too much. I apologize beforehand if it feels a little rushed, but I hope you’ll still enjoy!

You were nothing but a disappointment to all of your surroundings. Since you were a child, you were abused, mostly mentally by both of your parents. You were unwanted, someone who wasn’t supposed to be alive at all. Growing up poor, with no friends or family to support you made you depend on no one but yourself and as the time went on, you ran away from your abusive parents to begin your own life with high hopes of money, partner and success. Your mind was filled with visions that were not only unreal for someone like you, but also difficult to achieve for a regular person.

It was no surprise you ended up on the streets, thrown out of the school where you purposely failed every single subject only to not see your terrible classmates ever again. It was a terrible sight, truly, even for passersby, but no one as much as stood up for you or gave you any sort of financial support. That was until another young woman acknowledged the only thing that you had - beauty. And so you ended up being a prostitute at just 16 years old.

You felt pathetic, especially the first few years in your newfound job that did you no good. It was a traumatic experience to say the least and you could barely afford the rent by yourself. You had to live with a few other girls to keep on surviving like that. No matter how hard you tried, how beautiful you looked, there was no one else to buy you except for the creeps and drug dealers that were desperate for a woman to warm their bed just for a night. You spent most of the time in other people’s places, in uncomfortable positions, hell once a guy even attempted to lock you in his basement.

You had to improve yourself, to learn how to stand up for yourself, to stay protected and with the help of the girls who were doing it for longer than you have - you managed it. You’ve become a confident woman, no matter how miserable you felt at times, no matter how disgusting a man that chose you was, you went with it. You became good at one thing finally, that being seducing men and stripping them off all their money.

It came to the point where you were able to choose your customers as more handsome men approached you, whether the age was appropriate, you cared not. What became important to you was their treatment. They had to respect you before and after the intercourse. That was your only requirement.

But little did you know as you were walking through the streets of the city, pretending to be someone you were not, you caught an eye of the devil himself. Not only were you too beautiful for a man’s eye to miss, but the way you acted, talked so highly as if you weren’t a literal whore to be sold… It made a certain man more than interested to find out just who the hell you are.

Wesker was curious about you, truly, yet he soon got to know the truth. He was quick to find out your true nature, that you’re just pretending. Something in him just wanted to test the waters around you, to just play with you a little.

He’s found his way to you, paying you for a night, for the entire night. You couldn’t say no to a man like him, so handsome, beautiful and yet mysterious. He caught your eye as well, just as he thought he would. Not only that, he proved to be more than just a good lover, bringing you pleasures you haven’t even dreamt of, especially when you were the one getting money for it. Wesker definitely made sure to shower you with attention that night, he did it purely for himself though, to satisfy his ego, to have you all over him the next day, to wrap you around his finger just like all the previous women in his life. It was nothing but a sport to him.

You’ve fallen asleep as the morning slowly approached and when you woke up, he was already dressed again, sitting on a chair he pulled beside the bed to watch you the entire time, observing, thinking… He’s grown to a conclusion that he could definitely get something more from you. He’d come up with an offer he was almost certain you couldn’t turn down.

"Good morning, dearheart,” his blue eyes bore into your sleepy ones when you opened them, the unexpected sound of his voice nearly making you jump. You blinked a few times, rubbing your eyes as you slowly sat up.

"Morning…” you mumbled and just tried to realize what really happened last night. It was tough after how much he exhausted you… It was unusual as barely any man you’ve been with managed to go for more than just two rounds. And that goes without even making you come at all. Wesker on the other hand… "You know you could’ve left, right?”

He gives you a small smile when you mention it. "I’m not that type of a guy.”

You chuckle at that. "You must be pretty rich then.” And then you get up, collecting all your clothes from the ground. Only when you go to pick up your bra that was laying by his feet, he catches you by the wrist, making you look at him.

"Aren’t you tired of doing this?” he questions.

"Doing what?” You answer with yet another question and forcefully rip your hand away from him, finally picking up the last piece of clothing.

"Selling yourself.”

You almost laugh out loud while you’re getting dressed, ignoring how his eyes keep slipping from your face to your body as it’s still not completely covered. "You haven’t paid me enough to answer personal questions.”

"Would you answer them if I offered you a better life, then?”

You raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "And that would be?”

He stands up finally, walking up to you, towering over you and only now do you realize how big he really is compared to you. Slightly scary even. He reaches out his hand to touch you, caressing one of your cheeks softly, then tracing your jaw only to grip your chin tightly when he reaches it. "You are quite a unique woman, I must admit. I’ve not laid my eyes upon a more beautiful one, to say the least. What would you say to an exchange of services, hm? You could easily earn a home, everything that you’d want or need and maybe if you’d be good enough, you’d earn a husband as well.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You just stare at him for a moment, trying to process what he’s just told you. And then it hits you. The urge to laugh, at him. So you do, pushing his hand away.

His expression changes to a confused one as you seem to make fun of him. And he doesn’t take it lightly.

"That’s definitely going to be a no,” you snort, not taking his offended look to heart.

"That wasn’t a joke.”

"I’m sorry, but you must be delusional to think I’d ruin my life further more for a man I barely know. You may be good looking, but that doesn’t make you special,” you finally calm down a little, but there’s still a smile tugging at your lips even though you try your best to suppress it.

"Ruin? I’m offering you help, you, a literal prostitute. What other opportunity do you think you’ll get?” He’s getting pretty pissed and it’s more than noticeable.

"I don’t need one. I’m rather going to continue selling my body than giving someone a soul to keep,” you finally get serious also. You turn on your heel, grabbing the money he left for you on the nightstand, planning to leave.

"You’re going to regret that! Enjoy your pitiful life as a hooker!” He shouts behind you, with no intention in stopping you. He’s shocked, pissed, even embarrassed slightly. How could you say no to him? How could you prefer a routine such as atrocious as yours over living with him? He didn’t get it. But he still let you go. For now.

Days passed, weeks even and you haven’t heard of him, to your surprise. Although he’s thought of you, repeating that dialogue in his head all over again every single day. He’s not special? Him? Do you really think you’re better than him? He couldn’t get it through his head. You weren’t better in anything, you were just a poor woman with no proper life or education. Wesker couldn’t get it off his mind, your rejection should’ve been a sign that he could move on with his life like nothing happened. He hasn’t spent that much on you anyway… But for some wicked reason, he couldn’t move on. A woman like you rejected him, how fucking embarrassing. He wouldn’t let this slide.

And he didn’t. Two months after that incident, you’d come back to your apartment on fire, getting to know all your friends that lived with you died inside and couldn’t be saved. That there was not a chance for them to make it out. You’ve lost your all. No one was able to tell how it happened, whether it was accident or not. Wesker took care of it. No one would know. He knew it’d break you even more, losing the little you had, knowing you’d cry so badly you’d lose yourself in the grief. You had nowhere to go, once again, no one to talk to… And he’d wait only a while till he’d be back with his offer, knowing you wouldn’t turn him down this time. The suspicion be damned, he didn’t care if you knew it was him. He wanted to stay true to his words and oh did you regret rejecting him the first time…

[carpisuns]

the most hurtful thing about the rise of AI art, to me, is that the importance of lived human experience is up for debate.

you could say a lot about the ethical implications of it all and how it negatively impacts actual artists—how their work is being stolen and fed to bots without their permission, how they are losing ownership of their own artistic expression, how they're are losing their jobs because AI can "replace" them. but people will always find a way to talk their way around it. "if they didn't want people to use their art, they shouldn't be posting it online." "you can't own an artistic style." "the generated art piece is not actually their art. it's not stealing." and the real clincher: "i don't know what to tell you. that's just progress."

i feel like so many people see this issue through the lens of charlie bucket's dad getting fired from the toothpaste factory because a machine could place a cap on the tube more efficiently. but making art is not the same as screwing a cap onto a tube of toothpaste. it's emotional. it's meaningful. it's expressive. the end result is informed by the experiences and choices of the creator. and the viewer's experience is different knowing that a human is behind those choices—that there was real choice involved at all.

you could argue that AI art retains the inherent humanity of art, because it uses samples of real art made by real people—a whole collective pool of representative humanity. but it's not really the same. it's just an echo. an illusion. a mimic of life without the spark that actually makes it alive.

when i look at art, i want to think about the human behind it. i want to feel connected to them. i want to ponder their choices and notice their details and appreciate their skills. i want to look at it and feel something, because the artist felt something when they made it.

sometimes i see a cool piece of art and get excited. but when i realize it's AI, the emotion is gone. "what's the difference?" someone might ask. "if you liked it before, why don't you like it knowing it's AI? the image didn't change. it's still the same." and sure, visually it's the same. but emotionally it's not. i can't make a connection with it anymore. because there was no real intention behind it. i can't search for meaning in it, because there is none. when i look at AI art, even visually impressive art, i feel nothing. there's no wonder. there's no connection. the only possible feeling for me is, "wow, technology has come so far! neat."

it doesn't even have the appeal of "art" created by nature, like the Grand Canyon or the ocean or the night sky. those create a sense of wonder because there was no human involvement at all. the beauty came from the universe itself, and it feels like a gift from nothing and everything at once, and it's that beauty that so often inspires humans to make something in its likeness.

but AI art feels like a weird in-between of the art made with no hands and the art made with human hands. like pseudo-clay molded with empty gloves. it's sort of uncanny valley–ish. something almost human but not quite, so it always feels a little off. with human-made art, mistakes are understandable, expected, even endearing—a reminder that a person made this, and people are not perfect. but that weird offness of AI art just feels wrong. like a glitch in a simulation, reminding you that what you see was never real.

but really, even if AI was always completely indistinguishable from human-made art, the viewing experience would still be fundamentally changed. we make art to connect with each other, to see and be seen, to speak and to listen. but when i look at AI art, i don't know how to listen for a song. all i hear is the whir of cogs in a machine.

some people might point out that we're all just machines too. that AI's 1s and 0s are really no different from the synapses firing in our brains, and we draw inspiration from everything around us the same way AI draws from the samples in its generation bank. it's different to me, though. maybe i just feel this way because i myself am a creator, and i want to feel like i have something special to offer. but i have to believe there is meaning in the choices and expression of humans that there isn't in the choices of a program.

i'm sure this is just doomsday talk and it wouldn't actually happen, but the idea of AI eventually being handed the primary "creative" role over human beings is frankly devastating, even terrifying. i don't want to live in a world where all the art around me was generated automatically from a prompt and spat out onto a conveyer belt. it would be an inexpressible loss to me.

this isn't to say that AI doesn't have a place at all, or that we should abandon our exploration of technological advancement. i just hope that as this issue gets bigger, we remember the real point of art. when we are sad or lonely or angry, all of us turn to art. whether it's visual art or music or film or writing, art tells a story. we take comfort from the stories we tell each other, and it means something that those stories come from other people. art is and will always be a bridge between us and the rest of humankind.

so while our technology continues to develop, i hope we guard that bridge. I hope we protect the creative space of artists who want to tell stories. i hope we keep the demand for emotional expression high. i hope we honor the humanity of human-made art. if AI art is a truly reflection of us, i hope we keep looking toward the figure that cast the reflection, keep seeking the voice that started the echo.