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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

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🌮 < emoji for easy recognition

AITA for "bullying" someone out of a group chat for putting public health at risk?

This happened a while ago but I randomly remembered it happened and I'm super curious (and also still feel bad about it despite the incident happening probably around a year ago, but I also feel entirely justified). Additionally, I put "bullying" in quotes for a reason that will become clear later.

Some background: this group chat is a local/state Telegram group chat where everyone knows the approximate location of everyone; specifically, everyone knows either what region everyone else lives in or what town/city. One of the members of the chat (who was 19 at the time) worked at a fast food restaurant local to his area and is the "someone" this is ask is referring to. It's worth noting that a not insignificant chunk of the people in this group chat (which had around 150-175 people in it at the time of this happening iirc, most of the ones involved in this situation being older than him) found this guy annoying. I did too, but I was willing to talk to him because I don't think someone being annoying is a reason to be a dick to them (and I hold this stance with most people until they cross the boundary from annoying to toxic). Eventually I did block this guy because he was kinda a dick, but this isn't too relevant. What is relevant though is blocking someone on Telegram only blocks them from directly contacting you over direct messages; it doesn't block someone from replying to you in group chats or overall interacting normally in a group chat. Anyway, I had blocked this guy as of the events I'm going to get into and because of how Telegram works, we could still communicate in the group chat.

Now onto the actual event. Keep in mind that this guy works at a restaurant.

He came into the chat one morning mentioning that he was sick, like throwing up sort of sick, and said he was going to work anyway because his workplace was short on staff. Everyone active at the moment tried to talk him out of it -- he worked at a restaurant, and he was throwing up -- but we had no success in talking him out of going to work. All of us started trying to figure out what to do because this guy was risking the safety of literally everyone there. We even brought up the fact that if he went to work and got his coworkers sick, they'd be even shorter on staff, thus completely negating his point in going to work despite being sick.

One of the other members of the chat suggested we call his workplace and let them know he told us he was throwing up because it was a safety issue. I don't remember if anyone actually called his workplace, but it was something that was discussed.

Eventually (I don't remember if it was before or after he got off work) we started telling him our concerns and admittedly it did get heated, because this guy risked public safety (and his coworkers' health) and potentially his job and the restaurant by going to work after throwing up. NONE of us were happy about it. We were all varying levels of pissed, annoyed, irritated, anxious, etc.

Eventually he left the chat and he hasn't returned since then.

Why I think I might be TA:

I contributed to the discussion of "this guy is risking public safety and he really shouldn't be going to work if he's throwing up" which is the reason he left the chat.

I told my brother (who also worked in fast food at the time) and my aunt about it and they basically told me it was a dick move.

Why I think I might not be TA, or at the very least justified:

This guy was risking public safety

I didn't actively get heated until it was clear he wasn't taking what we were saying into consideration, at which point it felt like I needed to get more intense about it because he wasn't fucking listening

Additional bits of info:

To reiterate, Telegram doesn't block people from interacting with you or vice versa in group chats specifically if you've blocked them. It just means you can't communicate over direct messages. This is why I could still talk to this guy in the group chat despite blocking him.

I'm not entirely sure how relevant it is, but in case it's more relevant than if he worked at a McDonalds or Wendy's, this guy worked at a Mexican restaurant chain. I won't say specifically which one to respect privacy, but he worked at a Mexican fast food chain.

The reason I blocked him is completely irrelevant to this, and I don't feel like sharing why I blocked him anyway.

I don't remember what my thought on "call his manager" was, please don't ask about it.

He'd already been banned from or left the chat before (I don't remember which; if it was the latter I'm pretty sure it was because he knew people found him annoying but I don't remember any bannable offenses from him), then let in again by the chat's owner. He was actually let in again I think a day or two before all this went down. Because of him having just been let into the chat again less than 5 days before all this, the chat owner was trying to get us to calm down, which we obviously weren't doing since this guy had told us he was throwing up and still went to work his fast food job.

TL;DR: AITA for participating in making a guy feel so bad about going to work after telling us he threw up and therefore risking public safety and the health of his coworkers that he left the group chat?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #emetophobia cw

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normalbrothers · 3 months ago

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Omg my discord server has discussed that exact “facilitating sexual violence” thread with tommy. Our running theory (literally what we call “The Theory”) is that Arthur Sr facilitated Tommy’s abuse for money, and that’s created a lot of his views on people being investments. The “everyone’s a whore” line and his whole complex about Lizzie’s past (side note, also the way they look suspiciously similar… the mirrors are mirroring) are probably the most obvious examples, but the fears he has about being seen as useless to his family and his tendency to Literally “sell them out” for their continued success read like a monstrous combination of soldier mentality and childhood trauma. On top of that, the other people who (imo) conduct themselves the most like him in the criminal underworld, such as Polly, Michael, Grace, Jack (heavily implied), and Alfie (if you’ve listened to TGOAS) have also all been SA/SH victims. AND, in one way or another, those people betray Tommy— or a stand-in for Tommy —while playing the role of someone who was supposed to protect him/the stand-in. It is sooo!!!! Sorry that was a massive amount of word vomit but I had to yappppp 😫

´mh. the dangers of posting a take that doesn't get into the nuances. i kind of see your point(s), but i think i only agree with half of it, and even then with caveats. looking at a thematic thread is important, because it obviously Says Something, but i think getting into individual situations and what causes them, and the specific motivations that underline them is somewhat more important here, because it Says Something Even More.

this is rather long so i'm putting it under a read more (i hope it's not typo-riddled and that the sentences are legible, i find it awfully diffcult to actually make post on tumblr hdhd somehow the lay out doesn't appeal to my brain)

i haven't seen a lot of meta that actually argues for this, but arthur sr prostituting tommy (though, there are also fics that do the same thing with arthur) seems to be a relatively commonplace trope on ao3 - at least it's more prevalent than, say, arthur sr sexually abusing tommy himself. i can see where this comes from - sr appears like an opportunist who is mostly driven by wanting to make a quick buck for his own gain and who apparently has little emotional attachment to his children - and we have tommy's scathing line about children working for men "in their various ways", clearly implying sexual exploitation, but my personal theory when it comes to tommy and his relationship to his father doesn't exactly involve this (though, to be fair my take on their father is in general a little different than what fandom tends to go for - and, admittedly, i'm sentimental about this, but i don't think it's entirely unfounded either). but both are theories in the end, with an equal amount of "validity"; it's not like the concluding movie will confirm anything in that regard.

however, the problem with this theory, or rather making it the source of tommy's view of the world and the people around him, is that it precedes the war trauma, but the way we are introduced to tommy, how he operates and how we are meant to look at his initial ruthlessness (which is not a permanent state, it dissolves more and more as the show goes on) is the result of that specifically. the tommy before the war is someone that largely remains elusive to us. but we know that most of his family's grievances with him in the first season in particular are about how different (see: inaccessible and emotionally detached) he is since he came back - polly, arthur, their father point this out, all with varying degrees of judgment and condemnation, and much to tommy's dismay: he knows he's different, but unable to change that. it begets an odd feedback loop where he is rejected and simultaneously unable and often unwilling to talk about anything. thus the entire 'tommy doesn't talk to his family, his family (sometimes justifiedly) calls him out on it, but seemingly doesn't actually want to know anything, so tommy says even less' Complex becomes kind of a chicken and egg situation that causes most of their strife. but it's not necessarily a dynamic where one is categorically wrong and the other right. the troubling thing about this, of course, is that he often jumps things on them without briefing them beforehand and this may have the result that someone gets hurt - it's a nasty habit he has, but also something that lessens as the show goes on, but it's ... not exactly coming from nowhere. indeed, his family doesn't listen to or is dismissive of him; they are quite a few instances where they against his orders or don't heed his requests or warnings (a huge point of contention in season 3). important here is also that he doesn't retaliate or punish for this - if he's sometimes displeased and huffy that he isn't given a lot of respect by the people closest to him (as one would respect a traditional patriarch), he does little to and is unable to actually enforce it, nor is he feared by them.

nevertheless, he's still, in a way, regarded as the family's emotional center (next to polly), and despite everything, is still entrusted to look after his family members, my assumption is that he had a sort of caretaker function before the war without being considered the head of the family (it's important to point out that he takes over in s1, in his late twenties, instead arthur (early thirties) is introduced to us as the head of the family, the script itself goes as far as calling him a 'king': and he still tries to act with authority towards tommy in the beginning, which makes me think that this is something that *did* work once upon a time (actually, you can still see glimpses of this throughout the show), but doesn't anymore: tommy only starts to challenge him at this point, where both of them are well into adulthood) - and what tommy says of himself is that he believed they deserved better and that he used to be impatient and angry at 'slowness'. the notion that he was a romantic and idealist seems plausible to me; in that sense i don't think he was born a businessman, that he was always able to strategize, and use people, with aim for profit - and even then this is not exactly what motivates him in the first place.

so this is evidently not something his father taught him, but rather a trait (the compartmentalization, using people as tools as he himself is a tool) he developed over the course of the war where at some point he served as sergeant major, with men under him that he was responsible for, but also had to command (always in the extremely stressful context that any of them could die, and that any mismanagement or misstep on tommy's part could be the reason for this - *that* is the root of tommy's ruthlessness/emotional "coldness", he has to compartmentalize: his friends and brothers become soldiers he commands, with the traumatic knowledge that he might be sending them to their deaths - that arthur and john survive, also because of him, informs their dynamic once they return. they very much trust him as their leader, that tommy will take care of things and that he knows what he's doing, but without the circumstance of a literal war, they become brothers (human) again and these pre-war relationships and the traumatic distribution of their roles during the war are a source of conflict - it's not just a terrible thing for arthur and john, it also has a bad impact on tommy. something of a side note: while wealth and status and the trappings that come with it are things he enjoys - as does the rest of the family! - his attempts to achieve legitimacy and assimilation have more to do with safety for himself and his family (and he brutally learns that this is not really possible). for example john and arthur - as "bad" as him - enjoy the life, even as they admire tommy for what he seems capable of, they don't really see a point in tommy's plans to go legitimate. both of them would have, likely, been "content" to remain gangsters and rule over their small corner of the world (though, of course, we are privy to arthur's ongoing dilemma of wanting two opposing things and that he buckles under his own guilt, as tommy does) - that is not a safer way of living, however. sooner or later someone like campbell would have shown up anyway, and any of them could have still been gunned down in a turf war or have been arrested and eventually faced legal punishment for their crimes. this is not a position that tommy put them in, but of course, through tommy, they face problems on a larger scale - but the entire family wouldn't have been safer either way - this is an incredibly important point - poor and marginalized and criminalized and criminal as they are.

so, my very longwinded first point here is that tommy's behaviour, as it starts out in the show and how we see it transform over the course of it, is not something his father taught him. i also think it's a mistake framing tommy as acting like his father in any way (their motivations and ambitions and personalities are almost completely diametrically opposed) - this isn't really something that the show makes a point of, and he is certainly not replicating something, according to this theory, that his father subjected him to with his family members. mostly he structures the business militaristically, with him as a commanding officer - that business and family are the same thing, in a sense, and that it doesn't work as neatly as it should in theory is big ongoing problem for all of them.

okay, now coming to the actual point around the subject of 'facilitating sexual violence'.

for this i actually have to make another point that i haven't gotten into yet, but something that is important about tommy is that he starts out with a very rigid "them vs us" mindset (@deadendtracks pointed out that this also is a result of the shelbys being particularly marginalized as romani/travelling people, even among their equally poor working class peers) - he actually makes a sharp distinction between family and not-family. it's a fairly fascist rationale and it's not an accident that once he enters politics, and comes up against mosley, he starts to expand his scope (though it is incomplete as of yet), to care for more than just his family's safety and success. non-family people are those he tends to use or exploit, often with little consideration or guilt (or the guilt is compartmentalized: there is a reason he sees the pile of anonymous dead bodies in his bathroom when he has the seizure in s6), those are who he sees as investments and who he would "sell out" if it benefits him and the family. this is not true for his family members, actually. my guess is that fandom conflates these two things, because there seems to be a lasting misunderstanding of what happened in s3 with the arrests - which didn't happen, because tommy "sold them out", but as a consequence of things tommy had a limited amount of control over (i'm not at all suggesting that tommy is blameless here, but it's a little more complex than that). and this actually starts in s2, after his mock execution (a form of torture) he is told that churchill/the government will make use of him when the time comes, the events of s3 are predicated upon this (actually the entirety of s1 and s2 are the building blocks for the s3 arc and fallout (tommy being arguably hubristic in the beginning plays a minor, rather than a major, part)): under the threat of his family being executed, they are coerced into the russian plot - this is not something tommy chose to do. what he does is demand payment for it, however, but you can see a logic in this: if he gets fucked, they should at least compensate him. (this is an aspect of tommy's "everyone's a whore" thesis as well). tommy repeatedly warns and cautions is family over the season: it's absolutely not in his interest that any of them get arrested, or that he "sells them out" or that he sacrifices them (i could also get into the fact that even if one makes the point that he doesn't care for his family beyond seeing their utility, sacrificing them would be dumb, economically, because tommy knows he can't do things on his own, he has to delegate, and willingly sacrificing people profoundly loyal to him through familial and love relations for some middle-term goal, that might not work out at all, is ... a silly thing to do - who could he possibly replace them with?)

i somewhat understand that the initial perception would be that tommy is capable of this, tommy is possibly somewhat opaque in the beginning - but it never actually happens in the show, certainly not in the way people talk about it, and at some point i think the distinction (family and not-family) tommy makes should become clear to the audience - because it's a thematic element that underlines tommy's arc from s1 to s6. i also think you have to make a difference between arthur and john as soldiers/gangsters and polly and ada (and finn) who are "civilians". they are all part of a criminal organization, voluntarily as far as it goes (ada, of course, makes a point of distancing herself from the family at first, which tommy doesn't really fight her on). john and arthur are soldiers like tommy, and they make up the "illegal" musclework of their business efforts; beyond the moral injury around killing (sustained in the war), they are also aware that what they do could end badly for them: they are not blue-eyed about it, and they agreed to this. it's not forced upon them by tommy, setting aside that tommy himself gets his hands dirty; he does not treat them as disposable goons who do all the bloody work while tommy sits back and keeps his hands clean. (tommy does have goons he doesn't care about, though). he is not exploiting his brothers - which is another aspect of "selling them out", i guess. i think that is diminishing the agency they have, and the fact that they act on their own and why they do so and they certainly don't always follow tommy's orders. and then of course, ada and polly (and the wives) are kept out of the line of fire (which tragically doesn't always work), both as women, but also because they don't have the experience of killing/war. finn is an different can of worms, and probably deserves it's own separate meta.

okay! i'm getting to the part about sexual violence. now.

sexual violence - the allusions to past trauma, the constant threat of it and the actual acts we see happen on the show - permeates the narrative fabric of the show. as another smart person once pointed out, it's not a mistake that the show's (powerful) antagonists, simultaneously representatives of institutions (the police, the clergy, the aristocracy) that shape and order society, tend to be perpetrators of sexual violence as well: campbell is a rapist, hughes is an abuser of children and while mosley and mitford are not shown to be either of these things, their depraved sexual predatoriness still stands out.

of course, tommy here, as a "middleman" or medium is a subject worthy of discussion, then, but i also think we have to look at these instances where it happens separately (because they are not the same, despite the connecting thread).

grace and kimber: this might be a subjective impression, but i think what tommy does here is the most calculating (and in that sense the worst if just going by his motivations) out of all these examples. he takes note of kimber's obvious interest in grace and at this point likely already plans to make her part of his deal at the race. a big point here, in fact, is that grace is not only not-family, but she's a complete outsider to small heath/birmingham as well, and tommy very quickly clocks her as an upperclass woman on top. while he doesn't suspect her of being a spy (instead he manufactures his own explanation for her presence that grace cleverly adopts), she's still suspicious to him. initially, while also being attracted to and intrigued by her, tommy sees her as an intruder still at the point of episode 3 (where the race happens). in a way, she means nothing to him here, and given kimber's visible attraction to her, it seems like an easy quick way to let him proceed in his efforts. that he changes his mind - perhaps his conscience kicking in after all, perhaps because he already likes her more than he thought - is important conclusion to all this. he can't go through with it. and this is the beginning of the show where i think he's still reeling from the war, in that sense is the most ruthless/shut off (barring s4 where he's deeply cynical and depressed), and simultaneously on a high, because things are generally going well for him and the family (besides campbell's pesky presence).

lizzie and the marshall: it's somewhat important to note tommy genuinely didn't want to her to get hurt - that he needed her to lure the marshall away, but not to actually engage in sexual activity, is true. and tommy acts on short notice - he's desperate to get the assassination done while fearing that at the end of it he will be executed (he doesn't get out of the situation through any scheme of his, but rather is "spared", but of course, that he's spared only means is continued exploitation by the government). all of that is pretty worthless to lizzie, to be sure, who gets assaulted anyway, and none of that would have happened if tommy hadn't wasted time to brag to campbell that grace loves him. this disregard, though not exactly cruelty, towards lizzie (instead of ensuring her safety, he opts to talk about the woman he's in love with) constitutes a tragic element of their relationship. he doesn't hate her, nor do i really think he as a "complex" around her being a prostitute, but he tends to spare her little thought, and this is certainly influenced by her class (and sex) most of all. connected to this is also a mindset that "she can take it", and in that way tommy does relate to her, because he can as well, but of course, it's not the same either; their relationship doesn't start out as a very equal one, and on top of this, lizzie is not-family as well. here it's important to note that this is not a fixed, but something that changes: he very much starts to see her as part of the family and which brings me to another point that underscores tommy's family/not-family delineation. in s5, mosley basically asks him to hand lizzie over - given what tommy's trying to do, complying with mosley's request would actually make things easier for him, but he very brusquely (and remarkably so, because tommy is afraid of this man and never really finds himself capable of saying 'no' to other things) tells him off, and eventually gives lizzie room to reject him herself.

arthur and tatiana: while i included them in my post, i think it's a bit different than these other two situations - not because arthur's violation here isn't awful, or to suggest the sentiment that women can't sexually assault men, but this is the contemporary assumption and it would be anachronistic for any of these characters to actually think along these lines. tommy knows that his brothers are going to have to strip in front of izabella and tatiana, and characteristically only tells them of it last minute; arthur is unwilling, but "obeys" in the end. at first, tommy's visibly amused by it - part of this is petty revenge, because both john and arthur prior made fun of him for "working" with tatiana - but when she goes too far and starts to molest arthur, tommy's entire demeanor shifts; he grows horrified and dissociates. tommy couldn't have predicted that the situation would get out of hand, but he did wrong by arthur to not try and tell him earlier (then again, this is all under the big context that tommy doesn't actually want to be there either (and all this in the aftermath of his assault and hughes breathing down his neck) and arthur himself has shown to be somewhat fickle and unreliable throughout the season so far; he doesn't want to take any risks here, but of course, that doesn't entirely justify it either).

another sidenote: arthur and sacrifice is also an interesting subject, because i know the fandom has a tendency to assign a vast power imbalance between tommy and arthur, where tommy has all the leverage, and poor, loyal, traumatized arthur has no choice but to obey his brother. arthur is expendable to tommy, arthur is too good-natured and naive to see it. this is non-sense, of course, but it seems like no amount of meta or attempts to even the scales here will ever change this misconception. i won't get into it too much right now, but what i'm going to get at - and this is actual an important aspect when it comes to this sexual violence continuum and tommy as "middleman" theme in the show - is arthur and linda. arthur's behaviour towards linda escalates into abuse from season 4 onward and while not explicit, it seems to be that part of this abuse is also sexual in nature (linda tries to appease arthur with sex in s4, he kisses her against her will and to her palpable fear and disgust while grabbing her throat in s5, and in s6 linda makes "not sleeping with arthur" a part of her deal with tommy, it's an attempt to insure herself as she accepts tommy's request to help him) - tommy likely doesn't know this, but he does enable arthur's abuse of her. mind you, "enabling" doesn't make him the culprit or the instigator, that is all arthur. while linda is technically family as well, there is a hierarchy at play, and her imposed role is that of arthur's caretaker, if linda leaves, so tommy fears, arthur might spin out of control and self-destruct (or go destructive on others). it's not only that he worries arthur can't be of use to him anymore, he genuinely cares for and loves him, and if it means he has to stuff linda into the meatgrinder he'll do it. the decision tommy makes when relaying the information of linda's whereabouts is not one he makes gladly - he's fiddling with his cyanide capsule during the conversation - but it's triage between arthur and linda/her friend (it doesn't help that arthur insistently and aggressively threatens tommy over the phone while using textbook abuser talk concerning linda ("i just want to talk")). he makes the choice and gives arthur the information, knowing that arthur will likely do as arthur does. it's another instance that illustrates tommy's family vs not-family mindset (or more intricately, that there's also a hierarchy within his family). i'm also bringing this up, because through arthur's threats he also makes use of tommy - tommy tries to bargain with arthur and arthur steamrolls tommy (it's not an accident that this conversation is sandwiched between tommy and lizzie's deal and his attempts at making a deal with mosley, who similarly steamrolls him ("it's not going to be that kind of relationship"),

now having written all that down, my tentative conclusion is a) tommy has a habit of sacrificing people, but those are not his family members and b) the middleman theme is important, but a lot of this ruthlessness has to do with his experience in the war rather than something he strictly learned in his childhood (at the hands of his father) c) the aspect of sexual violence - and sexual violence as an ongoing theme in the show - factors into this and tommy, around whom this theme is constructed, is not free of guilt here, but that he is not the perpetrator is an important qualitative distinction. there are also other points i made, but my brain is about to explode lol

i'm trying to keep the last part short re: characters people who conduct themselves like tommy. using experience of sexual violence as the lowest common denominator doesn't actually translate into a lot of shared behaviour among these characters in my eyes. polly shares tommy's sense of familial responsibility and has vested interest in their success and safety, but she doesn't operate the way tommy (and arthur and john) does, because she's lacking the war experience. michael's big tragedy is that he never comes home - he remains alienated within the family, due to the traumatic events of his adoption, but another part of this is also that, despite this, he was afforded a relatively privileged middle class upbringing with access to a good formal education. he doesn't understand the criminal world the way tommy and the rest of the family do (he's also a little audacious about it all) grace is a true believer in her cause - she is an agent of the crown and therefore someone who furthers the interests of her class. the law is on her side, that makes her the opposite of a criminal (of course, the thesis of the show is the hypocrisy of legitimacy: what's the difference between an upperclass person/aristocrat who sits on generational wealth and power, achieved through the subjugation of an impoverished and marginalized majority and colonialism, and the shelbys who commit violence in a very direct way in order to move up in the world, but the effects of their violence are on a much smaller scale and in the beginning not structural (that the peaky blinders become a sort of institution by the end of the show is Another point)) nelson ... is tommy if tommy was completely amoral and apolitical: he's the perfect business man in that sense and they may have a shared understanding of where they come from, but the trajectory of these people is vastly differently (nelson is probably an amalgation of both arthur and tommy's worst potential, he could be tommy if tommy was, as i said, actually amoral and apolitical and he has perfected, with his lack of conscience and guilt, arthur's sadistic streak) alfie also doesn't really operate like tommy in my eyes, and i think this is mostly due to him possessing no familial ties (i mean, he seems to have a family, but there's in implication of closeness, the mother he mentions is dead, if i remember correctly). it's fascinating to me that he attaches himself to tommy the way he does, to the point of wanting tommy to euthanize him.

all these characters have somewhat different motivations, philosophies and experiences - it makes the commonalities they share interesting, but i think little of it is actually built on experience of sexual abuse, especially as it seems that this is, amongst other things, what makes their points of view so varying.

as i've said, i can see your points, but my feelings are that a lot of it is being conflated and that it requires more nuance when looking at these details. working out the themes of something - which a story is built on - doesn't quite make up for looking what this concretely means or how exactly it plays out/what actually happens

#x-wing #this is three million words long and i didn't cover all of it or as neatly as i could have #feel free to inquire hdhd #most of my points are reasoned but it's also too much of everything to tease it all out #ironically i'm not even talking about tommy being sexually abused here. rip

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subzerosongie · 1 year ago

Text

LUCIFER SFW HEADCANNONS

Omnisexual and Demiromantic, Lucifer finds beauty in just about everyone.

Struggles with affection, Lucifer's rank as an Angel wasn't known for being overly affectionate. Lucifer can come across as suffocating and controlling when he shows affection.

Has deep tissue scars where his angel wings used to be, he did rip them clean off his body.

On the rare occasion he misses his old life but that's a rare feeling, usually when he's heavily intoxicated

He's aware that he misses the memories and not the Celestial Realm himself

His feelings towards the Celestial Realm are mixed at best and negative at worst.

He wishes he could goof off like the others, but understands his role

Struggles with emotions, both others and his own.

Admittedly self indulgent, he makes no effort to hide his fondness for alcohol

Knows how much he has to drink to get to the level of intoxicated he desires

Insists he's not addicted

Smokes when he's particularly stressed out.

Was a leading example of virtue while in the Celestial realm for most of his time there.

Had a rebellious teen phase

Thinks about having kids more often than he'd even admit to

The idea of Romantic relationships with him makes him uneasy, he hasn't been in one in ages and the last one didn't end well.

This is because despite all his good traits as a romantic partner his struggles with affection and general tendencies to be protective, even overprotective at times make him worry about chasing people away

This said, Lucifer loves simple pet names like Darling, My Sweet, Love, Babe/Baby, Honey. He does have a few special ones he's fond of using towards his lover.

Scars litter his body, most are superficial but aside from the wings one, other deep scars are on his chest, lower back, neck, face, arms and legs.

Finds humans endlessly fascinating

Fangs adorn his top and bottom jaws where human canines are located.

Has a beastly demon form, he's rarely had to use it and are a mix of a demon and his symbolic animals of Peacock and Bat. He also hates this form.

Likes the harder musical genres outside cursed records. Metal and Rock are his favourites

Cat person, dogs can be too demanding for his tastes

Likes Salty foods

Winter is favourite season

Heat is actually hard for him to deal with

Devildom's natural climate is perfect for him

He regrets his fall, if he could do it again he'd make sure his brothers got to stay.

Had a decent singing voice, he doesn't sing very often though

Slightly an ambivert, heavily leaning introvert.

He craves social interaction but it drains him pretty fast

Mammon is as much his favourite brother as Mammon is the bane of his existence

Easily flustered when it comes to personal matters

One of his few fears are dying and being called back to the Celestial Realm and losing his family

Likes True Crime

Has PTSD the worst of his Brothers

Also has Depression, it presents through anger and bouts of despondency, he rarely cries or expresses his emotions any other way

He doesn't like this, but doesn't know any other way.

However one way to loosen him up to cry is again, make him intoxicated.

Pride, Lust, Wrath, Envy, Greed, Gluttony and Sloth are the sins ranked in order of intensity

Workaholic

Rarely eats, when he does he eats larger portions to counteract the frequency

Has a hard time sleeping, usually naps throughout the day or when everyone else is sleeping

Lucifer has fallen asleep at his desk more than once.

Gifted in Mathematics

Actually doesn't like to use his powers outside of necessity

Tries to get into or research his brother's hobbies to try and bond with them, with varying rates of success. Works out with Beel, Reads what Satan is reading, lets Asmo paint his nails, etc

More compassionate and caring than his demeanour shows

Wishes to amend things with Satan but understands that to do that, it is on Satan's terms to do so and not a moment sooner

Lucifer's favourite holiday is Halloween

When not working, he's usually reading or corralling his brothers in someway

Takes comfort in Diavolo

Probably needs glasses

Unhealthily relies on Coffee

One of the other brothers have to go in and give him food/drink or drag him from his desk from time to time

Bad at charging his phone

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me angst #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me nightbringer

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endlich-allein · 5 months ago

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If you could describe Till with just five qualities, what would they be?

Till has many qualities, even if he doesn't always realise it himself. I could tell you that he's perfectionist, hard-working, sensitive (even if he hides it very well), thoughtful, intelligent, independent but also attached to the group, supportive, down-to-earth, full of humour (ironic and often dark, very teasing), extremely loyal in friendship (I specify in friendship because in love he's not, in his own words), very very creative (I'd even say that artistic polymathy describes him perfectly), ultra charismatic, etc

But I'll choose five to answer your question :

• Humble : Till is often described as "a humble human being" (Olaf Heine). Despite his fame, he shows a great deal of humility, confessing that he welcomes success "with a lot of humility. And it also scares me a little. It brings responsibility and extreme pressure". He also knows that he is nothing without others, without his friends at Rammstein, without his teams, without the many people he works with, and he never hesitates to put them forward, to recognise their importance and their contribution, to make them feel good and to make sure they don't need anything. As Flake says, "He never pretends to be a great artist who needs to express his deep feelings. He prefers to think about what else can be lit on stage." It reminds me of when Joern Heitmann was doing the video for "Mutter" and Till didn't want to be alone in the video before giving in and saying "Why me ? I'm not special"... Yes, Till, you are special !

• Generous : A man with a big heart, Till shows generosity in his life as an artist, but also in his personal life. As Zoran says, "Till has a heart bigger than a football pitch". Till is very committed to charities and various social causes: sick children, the fight against cancer, Ukraine, refugees, LGBT rights, and so on. He also supports young artists by offering them opportunities to make a name for themselves and by encouraging them. Till is also very generous to us fans. One of the things that means the most to him is giving us the best shows possible, and he puts his heart and soul into them, a true conductor and master of scenography. And this has been the case since the beginning of his career, as Flake says: "An effective and well thought-out stage show was always more important to him."

• Dedicated and willing : Till is extremely dedicated to his art, even if it means compromising his well-being. We've already talked about the fact that he's done a few shows while ill or injured, that he'll do anything to make his videos as realistic as possible, even if it means getting punched in the face. He puts a lot of time and energy into making sure that everything he does is a unique experience. Till is a man of action, he's very pragmatic and prefers to act rather than talk. He is able to turn ideas that were initially theoretical into tangible facts. It is no doubt thanks to this pragmatism that all his projects come to fruition with varying degrees of success. Man of action, he is also very strong-willed. Admittedly, Rammstein has no leader and Till has never wanted to take over the leadership of the band, but we know that he is an authority figure and that when he speaks out, he is listened to. He's capable of making decisions when others are still dithering. Paul said : "We are very lucky with him - I should actually kneel down every day and thank him that we have him."

• Resilient : Throughout his life, he has faced and overcome a variety of personal and professional challenges, including criticism, controversy and media pressure. From an early age, Till has faced major challenges. First the swimming school, separation with his family, long training sessions, iron discipline and intensive doping. Then came the serious accident that put an end to his swimming career and plunged him into uncertainty. The various jobs he took on, and his rebellious and provocative behaviour, didn't help him to find stability. His eldest daughter, Nele, whom he brought up alone, dropping her off at school in the morning before going with his friends to steal and sell cars on the border with the Czech Republic, and picking her up again in the evening. His career as a musician, playing wherever he was needed, sometimes bass, sometimes drums. His violent relationship with his father and their inability to understand each other. And then there's Rammstein. A band for which, despite his shyness and introversion, he occupies the roles of singer, frontman and songwriter. Roles that he assumes, despite the enormous pressure and violent criticism, for better or for worse. A band he believed in from the start, and during the second concert he shouted : "Remember the name Rammstein !" And there's everything else we don't know, many other things, and of which Paul said : "We are lucky to have a man with life experience at the front. He went through things that none of us want to experience. Very bad things, but they are useful to us now." Yes, we're lucky that you're here, Till, that you're still here.

• Authentic and unconventional : Till is someone who, off stage, is known for being himself, not conforming to the expectations of others or society. He addresses you with polite honesty, his clear gaze plunged into yours, never twinkling. This honesty is very frank, sometimes sharp but always realistic. Till shows himself as he is, unpretentious, sincere, passionate and sometimes vulnerable. He remains a simple man, attached to his roots, his family. Gitta, his mother said : "Home, that's Mecklenburg. His homeland, his roots, his source of strength." He does not give in to the commercial demands of the music industry, preferring to retain his artistic freedom. And this artistic freedom is expressed with the provocation that has always stuck with him. But this provocation is never gratuitous, it always provokes reactions and reflection. Till is an artist and a man who doesn't fit into any box, prizes and awards leave him indifferent, what he prefers is to do what he loves in his own way...

#anon asks

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merbear25 · 21 days ago

Note

I don't know if this is something that has ever been done before, but now when you opened requests again, you have a chance to do it: Judge x reader fluff. Yes, you read that right.

Female reader, who is a personal assistant for Judge.

Preferably, Caesar has a cameo appearance, but Judge is the focus of the story.

Hey, hey! I was thrilled to get a request for Judge! He's one of the few characters in One Piece that truly fascinates me. This was my first time writing for him, so I hope you like it. 💜💜

After years of convincing himself that emotions weren’t necessary, that they got in the way of the pinnacle of success, he was reminded of another reason he’d buried them. A familiar ache that was first felt long ago was now seen as a nuisance, and yet he chose to suffer through the displeasure because it meant being near you.

CW: SFW, fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, pining, takes place during Egghead, reader is Judge’s personal assistant, includes Caesar

Pangs of a forgotten heart (Judge)

Beakers holding liquids varying in color lined the work station. The bunsen burners’ flames ignited in a pattern crucial to the concoction being formulated. He leaned down to examine them more closely, allowing their array of colors to tint the white walls behind them. Jotting down each bubble, puff of smoke, and subtle change in pigment, he was immersed in a world where only work filled his thoughts. Yet, somehow you were the only one able to pull him out of it.

The sound of the door sliding open fell on deaf ears. Coming into view behind the beakers accentuated your beauty, each curve being captured even under the boxy lab coat.

“I’m in the middle of something.” Firm but not rude, his tone never crossed into cruelty when it came to you.

“I know, but these reports came in and contain information you may find useful.” A softness that didn’t mask obvious hints was a specialty of yours.

With a slightly agitated sigh, he straightened his posture. The extension of his hand was promptly greeted with the reasonably thick stack of papers. A barely concealed groan left him once feeling the weight of them.

“I’ve already had a look and marked them by relevance.” You gestured to the color-coded tabs, each one carefully placed to draw in his attention to the applicable bits.

Thumbing through it, his expression remained void of praise and gratitude. Such adoration wasn’t for anyone’s eyes—deemed unfit to share freely or at all. His humph was the extent of approval typically, although you didn’t mind. His gaze fell on you: a woman who’d given nothing less than her full competence and admittedly still continued to surprise him even after the years working for him.

A lump formed in his throat; your eyes held a sincerity in them he couldn’t find anywhere else. A tightness arose in his chest; no matter how cold his stare was, your smile never fell. A sense of dread dawned on him because he remembered this feeling all too well. With a nod, he dismissed you and was left alone once again.

Those pale walls only felt cold after he met you, and the hours spent alone conducting research only felt agonizingly long after sharing conversations with you. Placing the stack of papers on the table, he rubbed his eyes. They felt heavy and stung from the teasing bitterness he reserved for himself when moments of weakness threatened his very foundation. Cracks had already formed though, and they deepened the longer he kept you around, spreading across every pillar of his philosophies:

Vulnerability—he wouldn’t be so low as to subject himself to that. The weak must be weeded out, leaving only those born to lead to create a world worthy of living in. A reality as cruel as this one, the meek would never inherit the earth, instead being destined to pave it.

Weakness—it came in the form of tears, regret, and even compassion, things which took years to rid himself of. However, his discipline still wavered, which threatened to send the walls he built tumbling down. The softer side to humanity refused to leave his side, pestering him at the most inconvenient times.

Strength—a firm stance he took to bear his ideals. The brains and the bronze: strength started with the psyche and trickled down to the muscles that would carry out each finishing blow. Trampling on the feelings that kept one in the dark to then free them from their shackles. Untethered and untamed: the world was now theirs to claim.

But no matter how sure he thought he was, your mere presence sent his mind whirling and that pang in his chest to coil around his heart. A gasp escaped him as he held himself back from embracing the humanity he lost with the death of his wife. Dismay kept him at bay, riddling him at any chance of forming connections, and yet he would catch himself looking for you. Perhaps you wouldn’t talk to one another, instead sitting within the other’s general proximity, working together in silence.

Intrusive thoughts flooded his already chaotic mind. Snippets of you refused to leave him in peace. That lump in his throat grew. Suppression of his deepest desires were resurfacing. The lid that’d been placed over them wasn’t what it used to be. A moment of clarity flickered so quickly he nearly missed it.

Hesitantly, he pushed forward only to hear that nails on a chalkboard laugh billowing down the corridor. A grimace was half-heartedly concealed when the gangly man who’d gone through phases of colleague and a thorn in his side veered into the lab once spotting Judge.

“What's with the face?” Caesar demanded. Clicking his tongue, Judge turned his back to the horned man. The cold shoulder irked him more than a retort would have. “Fine, be that way. I only came in here to get something that useless assistant of yours forgot.”

Looking up for a split second, Caesar’s eyes met Judge’s—daggers pierced the Clown to his very core. Startled at first, the initial reaction faded as a smile spread on his purple lips. “Oh, I see. Hmm, I can’t say I blame you.” He flipped through the folder he needed as he casually stepped towards the door. “Though, she is a bit too soft for my liking.”

Why did that bother him so much? It wasn’t untrue to call you as such, but that word was like venom to him. No, he knew exactly why and he loathed that you held the same qualities as her. Loathing your tenderness was a defense to keep him from feeling more than necessary, and that sweet smile that came with it made the burn singe that much more intensely.

The only way out is through kept echoing in his head.

Long stretches of brick walls lined the rug paved hallways. A mission that was guided by his heart but chaperoned by logic, he convinced himself that this was the solution to the current madness wracking his brain. Not following his routine of berating his own and others’ emotions opened his heart to fear: of rejection, humiliation, and the return to loneliness with his tail between his legs.

But there you were, working diligently like always. A subtlety of concentration on your gentle complexion gave a contrast to the deadly chemicals you were handling. You had a keen eye for spotting complimentary compounds. Self-taught which left him stunned, but under him you’d made remarkable progress, fine tuning your skills to perfection.

While he loitered, that word repeated the longer he looked at you. Perfection— it suited you nicely. Goggles still secured over your eyes and gloves covering those delicate hands, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. When you noticed him, your expression softened.

“Are you going to come out of the doorway?” Your light tone tangled with an airy laugh. He kept his arms crossed as he approached you, not quite willing to open himself up entirely. Despite him avoiding eye contact and his stiff stance, there was something different about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You paused as a question rolled around inside your head, but ultimately, you decided it wasn’t important. He wasn’t the type to openly express himself, you knew that, so instead you updated him on the most recent bits of information he needed to stay informed on. You inched closer to him, allowing your body heat to mingle with his, which to your surprise, he did the same. After a few more minutes of discussing work, he lowered his arms and permitted the budding interest he took in you a chance at something more.

#one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x you #op #judge vinsmoke #vinsmoke judge #caesar clown #op x reader #op x you #one piece fluff

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spemtang · 9 months ago

Text

Everything You Do & All I Try To Do

A DrakGo Fanfic.

Artwork by: Me!

Read on AO3

Summary: Drakken loses the medal he received at the ceremony months prior. He and an annoyed Shego have to go look for it. Hopefully, nothing bad happens.

Drakken tossed aside another overturned drawer, papers scattering across the floor. He had torn through the lair for over an hour, yet still no sign of it. Stupid, foolish mistake to misplace something so important.

His eyes examined the room, taking in the varying layers of dust settling on old doomsday devices. A small part of him was relieved at his own current failure. The thought of failing at something had him reminiscing, a nostalgic feeling. When was the last time he had used any of them? Weeks? Months? He couldn't remember. Time after time he had rebounded from failure; ironically, it was success that he found himself unable to recover from.

Drakken slumped into a chair. He’d foiled himself for once.

Kim Possible, his teen archnemesis, had always been the one to put an end to his plans. But lately, though no fault of her own, nothing. No thrilling chases, no banter, no imminent sense that his adversary could burst through the door at any moment to stop his world-dominating schemes.

Though not the burst he expected, the sound of a metal door sliding open was enough to alert him that someone had come in. He could quickly tell who simply by the way she walked.

“Lose something, Dr. D?” Her ever-sardonic tone permeated the quiet room, peering around at the ransacked environment that had once been the study.

“Shego.” He acknowledged under his breath, letting out a heavy yet admittedly reverent sigh at the familiar voice. “Obviously. I can’t seem to find that medallion from a while back-” His voice trailed as he tossed another book off the shelf.

Shego watched it clatter by her feet, then snorted, “Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me you actually lost that thing?” She said, forcing a snarky grin. Yet, she found her cunning remarks coming less naturally than they used to. She turned her eyes away temporarily, trying to brush it off; perhaps it was the lack of recent schemes that kept her out of her prime... mockfulness?

She's pulled from her brief introspection by the sound of a grumbled response followed by his voice, “Yes, yes. Don’t remind me.” he said, turning to Shego. “Any ideas from you as to where it could be?” She paused to think, “Uhh, not that I can remember, sorry.” She said, giving a nonchalant shrug.

A small device sitting on a nearby desk caught Shego’s attention.

“What’s up with this thing?” She asked. Drakken peered over his shoulder to look before turning back.

“It’s an electronic dog whistle I’ve been making. Commodore Puddles has been tearing up the furniture lately, I figured I should focus on training him for once.”

Shego gave him a look, “Wow...What a responsible owner you are.” She mocked, “Y’know, I think that’s the most ambition I’ve seen out of you in months, Dr. D.” She added, tone a little bitter about the lack of action recently.

He didn’t reply.

With a quiet scoff, Shego made a show of plopping herself down into the nearby armchair, whipping out a magazine. Yet, she was too distracted by the whole “missing medal” ordeal to focus on its contents. Peering over the top of her magazine, she watched Drakken scramble around the lair, tossing things aside haphazardly. He was clearly obsessed with finding that medal. Seeing him so distressed stirred a hint of emotion she couldn't quite place. Concern? Sympathy? She didn’t like thinking too hard about it.

“Y’know, hate to sound like a broken record, but you’ve really turned this place upside-down, Doc.” She commented, noticing many more books lying around than she had initially observed.

“Not without reason, Shego.” He replied bluntly, shuffling through neighboring rooms, increasing and lowering his tone to match the proximity. “If I were none the wiser, I’d think someone took it! But what business would anyone have stealing that thing? There are plenty of fancy gold vaults to steal from; why me?”

“Not sure,” Shego replied, entertaining enough weak conversation to keep him going.

Drakken deactivated the study’s remote-controlled fireplace and examined behind it, “I could’ve sworn I had it just the other day. It’s my fault I hadn’t checked on it in a while.” He continued with a sigh, “I mean, it’s got to be around here somewhere...”

He halted briefly,

“Er- Well-”

Shego peered up from her magazine to look at him,

“What?”

“Let’s say...hypothetically, a few days ago, I felt a little bored and nostalgic and was taking it to a lot of our old lairs, and I may or may not have left it at one of them-”

Shego groaned loudly, “You can’t be serious...How many is ‘a lot’???”

“About 14 of them.”

She gave him a long, hard look. Then, she sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose in frustration.

She stood, marching for the door.

“Whatever, let’s just get a move on.”

On their way out, Drakken nabbed the device he’d been working on. Despite his confidence, it’d be best to keep himself occupied if this–like Shego probably predicts–is a total waste of time.

Thrusters hummed smoothly beyond distant, quaint villages and ski resorts as the hovercraft rocketed over the landscape. They flew high above the valley below into the jagged, sky-piercing peaks of the range. Thick, perfectly white snow blanketed the steep mountainsides, gleaming brightly in the afternoon sun. The pair were blasted with its thin, frigid air, which held a crisp alpine scent.

“Come to think of it, this might just be the place.”

Shego glared, her hands flickering a threatening glow, “Are you telling me we didn’t have to go to the other 13!?”

Drakken tensed up and raised his hands defensively, “No, no! Your services are appreciated, Shego! It was perfectly likely for it to be at the other ones as well.”

Her palms fizzled, and she relaxed slightly before turning away, “Good. I can’t believe you revisited the wreckage of that stupid underwater lair.”

“I felt like scuba diving then, alright?”

“Yeah? I didn’t feel like scuba diving today .”

The two of them approached Drakken’s freezing lair in the Alps, still standing tall with its many pointed, almost pitchfork-like spires — yet decorated in a dense shrubbery of flowers, they looked to be two, no, three times as thick as the last time he was here. Surprisingly, they were not dead from the cold, though he supposed they were super high-pollinated . It wasn’t often he returned to old lairs; it would be the fourth time for this one in particular; it almost made him feel bad about the conditions he left them in.

As the two landed swiftly, he thought back a bit more. In truth, he was lying about being so sure only to make Shego feel more motivated; he wasn’t even sure if he went inside this one, the later details of the day having betrayed him.

“Do we really have to scout this garden of yours, Dr. D?” Shego asked with a noticeable irritation in her voice. Drakken hesitated, “Well, not particularly, no. But I’d appreciate it if-”

“Forget I asked. Let’s get in and out of here, and we’re done.” Shego remarked sourly. She was just about done with all the running around she’d been doing that day, and the freezing temperature certainly wasn’t helping his case.

Hiking up the side of the tall, icy glacier, not helped by the dense vegetation, Draken saw something in the distance.

“H-hey! Look! It’s one of those alien drone things!” He proudly announced, looking at the dismantled Lowardian machine in a distant snowy crevice. Shego sighed but didn’t look back, “Yeah, good job on saving the world, Doc. I’ve spent all day being reminded of your accomplishment.” Drakken almost opened his mouth in retaliation but decided against it, eyeing Shego as she trudged ahead. Frankly, he owed her for putting up with this wild medal chase. Hopefully, he could make it up to her once this was over.

For now, he decided keeping quiet and getting this search done quickly was probably the best course of action. Drakken hurried to catch up, the frigid wind biting through his coat. The sooner they got out of there, the better.

A faint green glimmer lit the black interior of the lair for a moment through cracks in the door. It was moments like these that Drakken was especially grateful for Shego. It’d be a real hassle getting all the vines off the handles without the use of her glow. There were... a lot of things to be grateful for when it came to Shego, actually.

The rickety door crept open, striking a small amount of light into the dark chamber, large patterns of vines and branches scaling its enclosure.

“A bit dark in here, isn’t it?” Drakken whispered, stepping across the cold floor and crunching leaves.

Shego looked around before spotting a faint light, “There,” She replied, blasting her glow at a dense gathering of vegetation, revealing the large hole the Lowardian Walkers had made in the wall. Sunlight poured in, brightening the room and showcasing a large shrub of flowers and vines.

“Much better.” Drakken acknowledged with an approving nod as he scanned the ruined lair.

His gaze wandered over the vibrant floral blooms now bathed in sunlight that beamed through the hole Shego had blasted. He watched, transfixed, as the petals seemed to perk up, stretching and unfurling as if soaking up the long-awaited rays.

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. His, albeit mutant, plants had endured, bringing an unexpected vitality to the ruins. He admired the new growth sprouted from the weathered walls, winding through broken glass and overturned debris.

Then he looked back at his henchwoman, getting her hands dirty, and frowned a little. Stepping over to her awkwardly, he started, “Shego-”

Yet before he could start, a deafening crash drowned out his words. Shego’s head whipped over as their combined attention turned to a giant metallic claw that had formed a large crater before them — a booming, animal-like screech ruptured from the shrubbery across the room.

The ruined Lowardian Walker's limbs shuddered and jerked as if pulled by unseen strings. What once appeared as a mound of overgrowth stirred, vines cascading off metallic parts as the robot arose on rigid legs. Shambling forward awkwardly, its shattered frame moved with an awkward organic gait rather than mechanical precision.

Dull metal peeked through a living patina of roots and vines that clung to its body. Strange leafy tendrils protruded from joints like parasitic growths. It appeared much less a machine granted false life than a creature born of steel bones now overtaken by flora.

“Dr. Drakken? What is that thing?”

Drew paused in imminent fear; what was that thing?

Shego’s pupils thinned as the beast stirred, and she turned for the entryway. “Yeah, uh, I don’t think I get paid enough to deal with that so–!” She exclaimed and decided to hightail it out of there. Drakken nodded and quickly staggered to follow.

The pair burst out of the lair; their feet slipped on the snow-covered rock as they descended the icy cliff. The building effortlessly crumbled behind them as the giant mechanical monster stirring from a long slumber shook its already plant-weakened foundation. The reanimated monster smashed through the same entryway, letting out another piercing metallic shriek.

Before they could reach the Hover-car parked below, the Walker bounded past with alarming agility. Whether by cunning strategy or mere primal impulse, it pivoted sharply and kicked the Hover-car with all its might. The vehicle went sailing over the horizon, spinning end over end until it vanished.

The beast reared back on its hind legs, giving another enraged screech. Puppeting vines twist around its limbs, writhing in anticipation.

"And...there goes Plan A," Shego muttered, igniting her glowing green fists. "Guess we’ll have to go with Plan B." Her voice held an uneasy confidence. She leaped into action, hurling blasts of green energy at the lumbering monster. They sizzled against the metallic exterior but barely slowed its advance. It roared, charging at Shego. “Any plans, Doc?” she shouted his way, rolling away from a giant stomping leg.

Drakken blinked, "Right, yes, good call," Drakken said, peering around nervously for anything they could use. His scrambling was interrupted by the monster, quickly turning to rush his way. Shego hastily shot at a joint with another strong blast, knocking it off course with a squeal.

The two split up, trying to divide the creature's attention. Shego nimbly evaded each lumbering swipe, countering with bursts of plasma. Drakken ducked behind icy boulders, fumbling for any gadget in his coat that could help.

"Could really use one of your brilliant ideas anytime now!" Shego yelled over her shoulder.

“Ngyeehh, I’m working on it!” He yelled back.

To his credit, he was working on it. He dumped a variety of incomplete doodads from his coat, using little pliers and screws to put random pieces together. He had a raygun he’d constructed a while back on him as well, but knew it’d be useless against the exterior of one of those things.

“Think, Drew...you just have to come up with something.” He muttered to himself.

Then, he had it! Using parts from a magnetization ray he had been working on and a few emergency batteries he kept on him, he could construct some type of electromagnetic frequency emitter, totally frying that thing’s remaining systems! He just needed a few minutes to-

His momentary pride was shot down by the sound of a scream, followed by a loud crash. He’d be relieved if it weren’t for the fact that the scream was human, and Shego’s.

Quickly peeking around his cover, he saw only the aftermath — Shego tumbling through the snow before she lay limp against a clump of snow.

She didn’t seem to be getting up, either.

“S-Shego!” He called out in worry, the creature’s lumbering form snapped toward him the moment he chose to raise his voice.

Drakken quickly ducked back behind the cover, he needed to crunch those minutes into just seconds now. He rushed to shove the parts of his mechanism, pausing on the battery slot.

“Come on...! Which way, which way?” He muttered frantically, looking at the plus and minus symbols. “There!” He beamed, before throwing the device out into the open and taking cover.

Large, booming frequencies of electromagnetic energy pulsated from the device. The robot winced, slightly, but seemed largely unaffected. It stomped the device into oblivion before continuing its pursuit.

Drakken froze in fear. He was sure it would’ve worked! The machine’s systems should’ve been...completely fried.

Then, his eyes focused on its limbs, vines sliding and gripping. Overgrowth pulling and directing the Walker’s monstrous limbs.

Was it a machine at all?

No.

Its body was merely a husk, the shell.

It wasn’t a robot holding onto its functionality through botanical means. No, something lived inside. That something was orchestrating the remains of what was left in that place months ago.

Drakken, at his wit's end, did what he was best at: running away.

Drakken's legs pumped faster than they ever had before, fueled by sheer adrenaline as the monstrous walker bore down on him. He zig-zagged desperately, boots slipping on the icy terrain, but couldn't shake the thundering steps behind.

Just as a giant metal claw swiped at where he'd been seconds earlier, the beast suddenly halted. Drakken risked a frantic glance back. The creature swayed, vines writhing along its frame as if uncertain.

Drakken's mind raced — was it confused? Losing his trail? Or toying with him? He didn't intend to wait around to find out.

That thing was back to pursuing him a moment later, he ran into what he thought would be his saving grace, a crevice through the mountainside. Unfortunately, the monster was easily capable of turning its frame to follow him in. And, if things couldn’t get any worse, a towering wall at the end marked a dead-end for him. Regardless, he ran to it with no other option.

Coming to the path’s end, he whipped back around to see it looming over him.

Was this how he was going to go out? At the hands of the plants, he played a part in creating?

He pulled the dog whistle out of his coat as the Walker neared.

Tears of despair welled in his eyes, regardless of his feelings were meaningless to the simple beast before him. He hadn’t even fine-tuned the device he was going to make for his dog today.

Yet, as the device slipped from his shaky hands, it wasn’t Commodore Puddles that was on his mind, it was Shego.

Just as before, and just how things had always been. He was caught up in proving himself, proving his worth. It was the Bebe robots then, the medal now. All just to be in the disapproval of his peers by the end of it. It was his colleagues then, Shego now. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d let her down, of course. But it was looking to be the last.

He winced, taking a pathetic step out of the way as if to delay the inevitable. And as the Walker raised its claw for one final strike against its prey.

It stopped, it recoiled, and it writhed. Its heavy claw clattered to the ground out of the way as roots shivered along its metallic form.

Drakken almost thought it may have felt sympathy and spared him were it not for his eyes turning down and finding the cause: it was the dog whistle! He must’ve stepped on the activation button, and the creature was sensitive to the sound it made! He wasn’t sure why that was, but he took the opportunity to nab the device and dart away while it was stunned.

His feet slipped and stumbled as he fled through the deep snow. Behind him, a deafening roar shook the mountainside as the walker freed itself from the crevice, hellbent on pursuit.

Glancing back, Drakken noticed a gaping hole blown in the monster's armor from Shego's earlier attack. Green “flesh” writhed within, exposed. He just needed time to exploit that weakness!

But as Drakken turned forward again, his stomach dropped. Mere feet in front of him, the snow gave way to a sheer cliff plunging hundreds of meters down. Another dead end.

Whirling around, he came face-to-face with the monstrous Walker looming over him, escape cut off. Drakken desperately held out the screeching whistle, but if anything, it only aggravated the creature more.

Vines twisted furiously around the ruined parts of its metallic body. The monster's large flower appendages looked like two judgemental eyes staring down at him. A mass of leaves and petals shook, vibrating with something akin to rage. Time was running out.

Drakken's eyes darted around the narrow cliff edge. There had to be a way! He just needed to buy a few precious seconds against this unbridled fury...But it appeared there was no last-second idea he could pull to escape this situation.

The Walker reared back, shadowed by the sunlight as it prepared to deliver a final blow. Drakken stood with uneasy anticipation, but a flash of green exploded against the creature's back before the strike fell.

"Shego!" Drakken cried out in relief as the monster staggered.

She huffed, "Miss me, Dr. D?" Shego quipped, though looking a bit battered.

The monster whirled with a metallic roar, vines twisting furiously. As it charged Shego, Drakken seized his chance. He pulled out his raygun and fired at the damaged spot.

The creature screeched, whipping back toward Drakken. But Shego was ready, striking it again with her glow. They fell into a pattern — it would turn to attack one, only for the other to blast its weak point from behind.

With a final, piercing wail, the unbalanced Walker lurched toward Drakken. He braced himself, but Shego was faster.

"Hope you packed a parachute, you overgrown weed!"

She launched a powerful flying kick to the creature's back. And, unable to support its own weight, the monster tipped over the cliff's edge, plunging into the misty depths below with a fleeting, monstrous scream.

The two looked down into the gorge as the Walker plummeted into oblivion, equally releasing a heavy sigh.

Shego broke the exhausted silence first after catching her breath. "Glad that's over with."

Drakken turned to her, relief washing over him. "Shego..." he whispered.

He stepped closer, just needing to see her okay with his own eyes. "I was so worried about you. I'm glad you're alright."

Shego softened slightly, an uncharacteristic sincerity coming over her. "Yeah, I'm glad you're okay too, Dr. D."

She straightened, regaining some of her usual casual confidence. "That was some quick thinking with the raygun. I Didn't even know you had one of those."

"What sort of self-respecting villain wouldn't have one?" Drakken replied with a flashy grin.

Shego smiled warmly, head tilting. A moment of understanding silence fell between them.

Drakken broke it this time, voice heavy with remorse. "Shego, I'm...I'm so sorry about all this. For dragging you along over a silly medal."

Shego blinked, having nearly forgotten their reason for being there. "Hey, don’t worry about it. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made me do something stupid. Nor the second, or the third..." she ribbed lightly.

Drakken rolled his eyes but smiled, “No need to rub it in, Shego.”

He noticed her windswept hair.

“Let me-”

He gently brushed a loose strand behind her ear. Her eyes closed momentarily as he did so.

"There," he murmured.

Shego blinked and met his eyes, her gaze lingering. "I can make an assumption or two but," She started, “What made that thing so special to you?”

Drakken sighed lightly.

“Maybe it was pride,” He paused to think, “But, it meant a lot to me as a sign of victory, I suppose. I haven’t done a whole lot of winning in my life.” He confessed.

Shego smirked playfully, “I think I’d know that more than anyone, Doc.”

Drakken gave a weak smile, the expression vanished from her face.

“Sorry, that was-”

“No, it’s alright.” Drakken assured her, “I like your edge, Shego. You know how to keep me in check.”

Her cheeks flushed just a little, and she smiled again.

“Thanks, Dr. D.”

Drakken turned his head up and to the left, he looked over at the overgrown lair for a moment.

“I don’t think I appreciate you enough.” He admitted, “I mean, I pay you to work for me, but still. I’m not sure if I ever got around to telling you this, but I really appreciated you coming to save me from the Lowardians back then.”

Her head perked up and her cheeks grew just a smidge redder, “Oh- It was nothing, Dr. D, honest.”

“Even if it was nothing, Shego, I still appreciate that you did that for me. I owe a lot to you, a lot more than money can pay for, anyway.” He relents, “For sticking around, that is. Even when I do stupid things all the time. I’m glad you’re still here.”

Shego felt a shiver run up her spine, and it wasn’t from the cold.

“Hey, uh, sorry we couldn’t find your thing.” She muttered, trying to ease the tension.

Drakken smiled.

“I’ll be alright, Shego. I feel I...found something better anyway.”

She swallowed, and without thinking, wrapped her arms around him. A sudden need enveloped her heart.

"Dr. D," she whispered.

Drakken turned to meet her gaze, taking in every detail of her face. Her fire, her strength, her loyal persistence through it all suddenly struck him. She was incredible.

His eyes fell half-lidded as he lost himself in hers. The frigid air faded away in the warmth of her embrace. Timidly, his hands came to rest at her sides, drawn in helplessly.

"Shego."

She took a small step closer, snow softly crunching underfoot. Time seemed to slow, the space between them electrified. It felt right.

Drakken leaned in hesitantly at first, then, as was routine, surrendered himself when Shego picked up the slack, confidently sealing the gap.

In the moment, he felt as if the world had fallen away. Her kiss enveloped him in an indescribable warmth, a tingling sense of belonging spreading through him- newfound purpose excavated from the depths of his timid heart. His hands moved from her sides and delicately cupped her face as he savored the intimacy. Her lips were so soft, and inviting.

Shego drew him closer, her aggressive edge giving way to tenderness. She never wanted this moment to end.

When they eventually, reluctantly parted, Drakken kept his forehead resting against hers, noses still touching. A faint smile played on his lips. Both were resistant to leaving the other's arms. Right now, they had each other- perhaps as they’d always had each other. And for them, that was enough.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He breathed.

“Yeah, I got the impression.”

Drakken clicked his tongue, catching Puddles’ attention once more. The whistle had proven quite effective for training after just a little tweaking, working out the odd frequencies.

"Come on boy, just a few more times around the lair," Drakken encouraged, pacing backward as his pet obediently waddled after.

Shego peeked up from her magazine and watched as Drakken and his dog scurried around the corner. The corners of her lips tugged upward, though she hid her expression. She gave him a bit of crap for it just the day prior but found it sorta endearing after everything.

She stood and followed after him.

“I can’t believe you’re just now training that thing after you’ve had him for...how many years now?”

Drakken scowled, some things never changed about her.

“He’s not a thing , his name is Commodore Puddles.” He remarked, pridefully lifting his pet, “And...world domination schemes get in the way, alright?”

She laughed, “Does that imply you’re retiring from world domination?”

He froze up, “Maybe...maybe not. But don’t think I’m going soft, Shego!”

She snickered still, and he grumbled at her.

“How’s this:” He started, “I’ve scouted out a museum with quite the rare artifact. What do you say we steal it together sometime?”

Shego raised a brow, “What do you plan on using it for?”

He shrugged, “I was thinking about stealing it just for the heck of it.” He admitted.

She grinned.

“I like the sound of that.”

Notes: I don't write very often, but I made this. I hope I got their character right. IDK... Here's a concept sketch of the Lowardian Walker-plant monster thing. Maybe one day I'll make a proper drawing of it, but consider this the canon-fanon for now.

#dr drakken #shego #kim possible #drakken x shego #drakgo #drakken #fanfic #fan fiction #writing #criticism is appreciated #sorry bcbdrums... i stole how you format fanfic posts

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silvrash-797 · 10 months ago

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Continuation of my last Febuwhump fic, again courtesy of @webhead3345!

Echoes of the past (pt 2)

Day 6: “you lied to me"

Part 1

Read on ao3

The night after the attempted ambush, Warriors was on watch. He looked around camp, checking on each of the Links. Despite his constant worry about traitors from his Hyrule, somehow he’d known implicitly he could trust these heroes, and the recent battle had cemented that knowledge deep in his mind and heart.

Despite their rocky start a few weeks ago, Warriors had worked tirelessly to ensure each hero was comfortable with the others, with varying levels of success.

Wild and Hyrule were still a bit skittish, and Legend often sat alone, but for the most part everyone else was getting along. He counted it a victory that he’d managed to wrangle a (half-hearted, admittedly) promise from the prickly Vet to at least let them know if anything was wrong.

He couldn’t help worrying about how the Vet flinched before and during that conversation.

Waking the Vet up for last night’s battle had been the last straw. Too many things were adding up to an unpleasant picture. The fear on Legend's face before he could throw on his prickly facade. The way Legend had paled when told he’d be going with himself and Sky. Legend throwing Hyrule under the carriage to avoid working with them.

Then there were the things that happened during the battle. Legend refused to walk in front of them, choosing to follow reluctantly instead. He fought the horde with all the significant cunning learned from years of adventuring; still, Warriors always felt Legend's eyes on his back, like Legend was afraid of him. Even now, sleeping, the only one Legend let anywhere close to him was Hyrule, and they placed their bedrolls far away from the rest of the heroes.

Warriors knew paranoia. He personally knew what the fear of traitors was like, how deeply it impacted everything he did.

It was how he could see that Legend was drowning in both. Drowning, and hadn’t said a word about it.

Warriors frowned and stood, stretching. If they were going to work effectively together to defeat this threat, Legend's trust issues would need to be addressed. With Legend's watch coming up, now was as good a time as any.

He only hoped he wouldn’t make the issues worse.

Carefully, he made his way to Legend's bedroll. “Vet,” he whispered, touching the other hero’s shoulder, “It’s your watch, time to get up.”

Legend took a deeper breath, the only sign he was awake the twitching of his ears as he took in the night's sounds. But as soon as he realized who’d woken him, he flinched back, eyes shooting open.

Warriors backed away in response, hands up in a gesture of peace. “Easy, Vet, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Legend flinched defensively again, muttering something under his breath before cautiously sitting up, eyes roving around the camp. By the time he made it back to Warriors' face, the stoic, unaffected mask was in place.

“I’ve got it from here, Captain. Good night.”

“Actually,” Warriors tried, “I was hoping we could talk for a bit.”

Legend’s shoulders rose defensively; his minute shift away sent a pang through Warriors' heart. “About what, Captain?”

There. That derision in his tone. Whatever issues Legend had, they centered around a distaste of soldiers, Warriors was certain.

Wonderful.

Warriors blew out a heavy breath, taking this new understanding into what he’d already observed. “Legend,” he began, “are you okay?”

“I told you earlier, I’m fine.”

Warriors shook his head sadly. “No, you lied to me then and you’re lying to me now.”

Give it up, Captain,” there was venom in Legend’s voice and deep fury on his face, but he couldn’t quite mask the terror in his eyes. “Why do you care, anyway?”

“Lege, believe it or not, I consider you a friend, and I don’t want my friends to be uncomfortable around me.” He ignored the shock on Legend's face, choosing instead to press his advantage. “I’ve seen how you flinch whenever I approach, or how wary you are of Time and Twilight. Have we done anything to upset you?”

Legend stared silently for so long, Warriors was worried he might have pushed too hard, that he’d never get an answer. Finally, the Vet looked away, curling defensively into himself.

“’s nothing you’ve done,” he muttered at last. “Just…stuff from my first adventure.”

His gaze flicked to Warriors, who made certain his expression was as open and non-threatening as he possibly could, silently lending his support.

“I was just a kid when a wizard decided to kidnap Zelda, then frame me for it,” Legend continued reluctantly. “I spent months dashing across my Hyrule, trying to get her back, constantly hounded by brainwashed soldiers in their rattling chainmail.”

Warriors was shocked. “Vet, I’m so sor-"

“Save it,” Legend snapped. “I don’t need your pity.” He closed his eyes, blowing out a deep sigh before relaxing a bit.

“Obviously the knights don’t attack me now – Fable cleared all that up as soon as I rescued her – but it doesn’t change the fact that it happened, y'know? I can’t help but be wary.”

“I…” Warriors was at a loss for words, but he knew he needed to give some sort of response. He could almost see Legend's nerves winding tighter and tighter, waiting for a response he obviously didn’t think would be favorable.

Warriors sighed, then gave a small smile. “Thank you, Lege, for telling me.” He chuckled humorlessly, “If it helps, I’ve also had to deal with my fair share of traitorous soldiers attacking me – you’re not alone.”

Legend looked stunned, and was that gratitude buried in his gaze? “It…actually does, a bit.” He smiled, and for the first time since they met it looked genuine. “Thanks, Cap.”

“You know,” Warriors was thinking out loud, but he liked the way the idea was flowing, “if it’ll help, you don’t have to call me by my title. You can call me by my nickname, same as everyone else.”

Legend's smile grew, and he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks…Wars.”

#SilvrAsh writes #febuwhump #day 6 #there's like...hardly any whump in this #and that's okay #legend's starting to learn to trust and that's enough #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu legend

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topray-arc · 2 months ago

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GET TO KNOW ME.

roleplayer name: koi. roleplayer pronouns: he... because i'll never be him muse name: mari dai <3 preferred communication: discord, although i'm admittedly terrible at dms and can't keep track of plotting calls for the life of me. experience: some could say that my experience level should warrant a psychiatric evaluation. others may say it should receive a badge of honor. choose your player preferred roleplay type: well plotted, long term plotlines that push character development. bonus points for specific motifs or scenes that we envision on repeat like a projector is running on replay in our brains. i also don't mind non-plotted stuff as well, though— it just has to be said that mari's both a case of being very low tolerance with people and also is violent, so. sometimes plotting is just necessary. pet peeves & dealbreakers: cracks my knuckles. let me speedrun this by saying it in quick succession. abusive relationships written under the guise of "toxic" shipping, repeat offenders on the asian faceclaim front (if you are not asian yourself, to be clear. i can understand the self recognition standpoint), mother ruzzia dick riders, writing military/cop/legal positions of power without acknowledging the damaging aspects of such (beyond the hurt and whump of your own character, btw), pinkwashing, using google translate to butcher language for the sake of a reply, copy-pasting the label of narcissism/psychopathy/aspd on any violent character, the lack of sensitivity towards low empathy individuals ... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. plot or memes: por qué no los dos? give me both options, ideally. long replies or short replies: somewhere in the middle, tbh. if it gets long, it gets long. if it stays short, it stays short. if it fluctuates, it fluctuates. normalize scenes not always having the same pace and reply length varying, actually. best time to write: 3am with some sort of insane music choice on loop are you like your muse?: in some ways, yes. in other ways, absolutely not. mari is, to me, someone that i think most people can see themselves in in some aspect — mainly because of her duality. and she's intended to be that way! i want her to be someone that you can relate and sympathize with. but there are other things that i can't imagine for myself, personally. our biggest overlap is our height, though

TAGGED BY: my main squeeze, @tocook TAGGING: @senstrike, @linament, @amreality, whoever wants to, tbh

#out.#dash games.#ask to tag #shrug emoji. i said my piece and i stand by it

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painted-bees · 2 years ago

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As a fellow acespec I want to toss Raf into a protective pillow fort and feed him on an exclusive diet of love and validation. Your posts about him imply that he's been through a lot of trauma. Can I ask what that was? Who hurt our boy?

Thank you for loving the lad!♡♡♡

What's Raf's damage? 😂 it's not really any specific thing that happened to him, he just sorta grew up being boiled alive and never realized it until he tried leave the pot and everything hurt lmao.

He was raised as a commodity. His mother/publicist conceptualized a very marketable, appealing persona that her son was to embody--so that she could sell it. He grew up being told what his goals were, what his passions were, what he liked, what he didn't like, how to speak, how to compose himself in a way that was endearing and widely approachable. And he was praised for it. As a kid from like 4-10 years of age, it was fine--great, even! He liked the praise, he liked being told he was good at things, he liked doing the things he was good at! He was into it, as a kid. But then, as he entered into adolescence, he started wanting other things, hobbies for himself, friends his age, the free time and autonomy even just to explore different instruments and genres of music that he felt personally interested in. But of course, if it didn't serve the public persona, there would be no time for it. He had studies, recitals, competitions, interviews, functions, so on and so forth. Being a public figure was...a pretty all-consuming thing. And he--began to resent it. And he began to push back against it.

Unfortunately, when he began to assert himself and set boundaries for himself--if it took away from what others had to gain from him...it began to color the way they treated him. He didn't fully recognize this though--until he left Monaco to attend Juilliard.

The whole reason he wanted to go to school across the ocean at all was to get as far away from his parents and their oppressive scheduling & scripting as he could--to finally have time for himself, to -be- himself, and to sorta find his own legs, so to speak. Buuut--the students and faculty who weren't some manner of hostile towards him over his history as an (admittedly) overrated, professionally coddled child celebrity--befriended and cozied up to him largely because he and his name carried a pretty significant amount of clout (oh, the connections!). Even his genuine friendships were still colored by the very, very successful career his parents had crafted for him. And this fostered a lot of his anxiety regarding people and relationships.

School left him more burnt out and insecure than he had ever felt in his life, with no solid sense of his own identity, and a very strong sense that people only wanted to get to know him better for the purpose of exploiting him. And--9 times outta 10--he found he was right about that to some varying degree. But with nerves so raw, even an 'acceptable' measure of this felt too much for Raf.

And so, he aspires to be someone that no one knows. A complete nobody. Just a guy. He tried to quit music for this purpose but couldn't really commit himself to doing it--it was too much a part of him, despite how he resented the fact. He just wants to be left alone, but he can't stand to be lonely ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#the trauma is emotional neglect lmfao #Hi-Note #rafael

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visual-calc · 1 year ago

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How tall do you think can I fall before my shell break by impact? Hypothetically in case

VISUAL CALCULUS [Formidable: Success] — It's difficult to pin down an exact number, given the necessary simplifications, but I can certainly come up with an estimate. Let me just...

To summarize, if we approximate your shell as a hemisphere, we can derive the equations for how fast and how far you would fall as a function of time, assuming you were dropped from rest and not thrown. With those equations in hand, we can then derive an expression for time of impact in terms of the height you were dropped from, and plug this in to our previous equation for velocity, to get your velocity at impact as a function of height. So far, so relatively accurate.

The difficult piece is determining the force of impact, and the force necessary to actually break your shell. The physics of how things break is messy, and while I can reconstruct objects the detective finds already broken, pre-constructing potential damage is much harder.

Our model is therefore somewhat simplistic— we take the force transferred to your shell upon impact to be the change in momentum divided by the time the impact takes. Since you go from impact velocity to zero velocity upon hitting the ground, the momentum change is simply your mass multiplied by your impact velocity. The time the impact takes is, admittedly, an educated guess on my part. We know it must be short, as lengthening it would require either padding on the ground your shell to break and slow you down gradually, which is the exact failure mode we're trying to avoid. We'll say it's about 0.005 seconds. We'll also say that it takes around 4500 Newtons of force to break your shell, and that your shell only breaks if the impact force exceeds this number. A more realistic model would take into account the possibility of varying degrees of damage, but again. Simplifying assumptions.

With all of these pieces, we can then plot the time of impact, impact velocity, and impact force as a function of drop height— shown in blue, green, and purple on the plot below.

Impact force increases incredibly quickly with drop height, so much so that it appears like a straight line on this plot. The purple curve crosses the 4500 Newton threshold at a mere 1.75 meters. Given the simplifying assumptions we've made, I'd say err on the side of caution and try not to fall a distance further than 1 meter without some manner of protective gear.

Please tell me you don't have any parachute-less skydiving trips planned...

#skillsposting

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hmshermitcraft · 2 years ago

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Oh what is better to help a pirate then something that's lived its whole life in the sea.

Keralis found him a while ago, when he first started out sailing, something trailing him at first, a dark blue and orange tail visible here and there, and an area around him suspiciously devoid of any particularly dangerous sea-dwelling creatures.

xB has been trailing this admittedly, quite beautiful, sailor for a while, trying his best to keep away any navy boat that could harm this pretty man, he hopes he can gather the courage to actually greet him, or tell him that though.

Keralis mentioned it to his captain upon joining their crew - a creature of the undead called Cleo - just to make sure nobody tried to attack the creature. He's not sure whether they believed him or not, but he caught the glimmer of scales under the water and knew the creature was still following him.

Occasionally he tried to give offerings to the creature. Tried, because he didn't know what a creature like this would like. The gifts of fish vanished, but the gift of gold just got placed slightly higher than where Keralis left it. He tried other human foods with varying success.

xB thought it was cute. The paltry offers of fish came nothing close to how much he usually eats, but he accepted them regardless. He's got no use for material objects, and nowhere to stash them. Trying human food is fun, though! Even if most of it just tasted like the salt of the ocean. The stuff he gets after port visits is always the best.

He didn't mean for their first meeting to happen how it did. A ship got a lucky shot on him, the spear piercing through his stomach. He still managed to destroy the ship, striking vital pieces of wood with his tail. But his wound was leaking blood into the water, so he retreated to the only place he knew.

He doesn't remember much of what happened next, but Keralis remembers his panicked reaction, the crew coming together to haul the injured creature onto the deck. It took a lot of inventive medical knowledge to remove the spear head and patch xB up. As well as a lot of buckets of water. It did give xB and Keralis a chance to finally talk, though, however delirious xB was.

Keralis still doesn't let xB forget the first thing he said was calling Keralis pretty.

#hermitshipping #ask #keralis tag #xbcrafted tag #xbralis #violence tw #mod 🎀

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dustedmagazine · 9 months ago

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Aidan Baker et al — Trio Not Trio series (Gizeh)

It’s not as if collaboration over distance wasn’t a thing before March 2020 (it very comfortably and significantly predates the Internet, for one thing), but it quickly became a lockdown (and post-lockdown) truism that COVID accelerated and to some degree normalized that form of collaboration. Nadja’s Aidan Baker already had a lengthy track record of teaming up with all sorts of other artists (both solo and in is his duo with Leah Buckareff), and when everything changed he’d already been contemplating doing a series of trios. A live performance? An installation? When any sort of everyone-in-one-room affair quickly became impossible for the foreseeable future, the idea got adapted into the Trio Not Trio series, which combines both in-person and remote playing with a number of different collaborators, casting a wide net and then creating a series of groups with Baker and two other musicians. For each, Baker and one partner would get together in the studio, work improvisationally, and then send the tapes to the third to add what they would; then each set of recordings were tweaked and rearranged slightly so that all five came in at around an hour apiece.

Even the number of instalments is a mark of the project’s success; Baker originally planned on three trios and got so many positive responses he had to expand. Baker plays guitar throughout and always includes a drummer, but sought to recruit differing instrumentation for the last spot. Each Trio Not Trio release has track names corresponding to the ordinal numbers matching the position of the tracks (so first, second, third, etc.) translated into a different language; the album titles also take this pattern (so first, second, third, etc. but in different languages). Befitting the wide range of playing styles, genres and backgrounds that all of the collaborators brought to the series, the results are varied enough it’s worth looking at each entry in turn.

Yn Gyntaf

Welsh for “firstly,” the initial entry in the series features Oneida drummer John Colpitts (aka Man Forever) and vocalist Stacy Taylor (aka Sarff). It’s also the only one where the drummer of the trio wasn’t the one present for the initial recording. Colpitts is a powerhouse and Taylor’s wordless singing packs its own punch, but for the first five of the seven tracks here, the trio keeps things spectral and foreboding. It’s only when Baker’s guitar splits open the beginning of “Chweched” with two tracks to go that all that potential energy is converted into roiling catharsis (admittedly those two tracks do cover a solid half hour between them). Both halves work well on their own, but the collision of the two is the strongest part of Yn Gyntaf, suggesting the series’ reluctance to settle into one predictable mode even on a trio-by-trio basis.

The second instalment brings in My Disco drummer Rohan Rebeiro and baritone saxophonist Sofía Salvo. All three play this hour loose, spacey and abstract, with all instruments frequently making sounds pretty far away from their standard expressions. Whether it’s the sparse, alien, clicking and droning soundscape of “Primeras (Pts I y II),” the prowling baritone sax haunting “Cuarto,” or the slowly accruing damage of the closing “Septimo,” it is immediately clear that each group is going to bring very different sensibilities and possibilities to the work.

Trzecia

Baker frequently works in various genres in and adjacent to heavy metal, and fans of that side of his work might have their ears perk up seeing that Trzecia brings in Khanate/Insect Ark drummer Tim Wyskida and Pinkish Black’s Daron Beck on keyboards. “Pierwsza” isn’t very brutal at all though, starting with Wyskida’s skittering taps, Beck adding graceful piano accents, and Baker mostly staying subliminal/droning. It’s the closest the series comes to sounding like, say, the Necks. Most of the hour stays in this kind of exploratory mood, with Wyskida frequently leading the way. Only on the closing sixteen minutes of “Szósta” does the hammer come down, Baker and Beck grinding in tandem while Wyskida propels them.

Yonbanme

The fourth entry also includes the series’ second singer in the form of Ayami Suzuki (who also provides electronics), as well as journeyman drummer Tobias Humble. Whereas on Yn Gyntaf Stacy Taylor’s voice was central, giving an element for the listener to follow through the hour, here Suzuki often hangs back, with her voice almost merging with the wash of sound on the ethereal “Nibanme” for example. But then on the more heavily layered title track she also provides the closest thing the series has to discernible lyrics (good luck transcribing them though). The instalment with the fewest tracks (five) and so the longest average track times, Yonbanme may be the only trio to (almost) replicate the instrumental setup of a previous one, but that only highlights how distinctly each collaborator adds to the proceedings.

Letzte

The title here is “last” (not “fifth”) in German, and for the closing trio Baker brings in Berlin’s Jana Sotzko (Point No Point, others) on drums and Melissa Guion (aka MJ Guider) on guitar/bass/electronics. As you might expect from the rest of the series, that setup does not mean we are about to get anything at all like a conventional power trio. Guion frequently laces Baker and Sotzko’s in-the-room interplay with drifting atmospherics, from the gradual haze of “Erste” to the cavernous echoes of “Fünfte.” The closing title track sends the whole project off with a fuzzy, surging valediction, a fittingly satisfying end for a project that demonstrated significant sonic and emotional range within the various modulations of a deliberately specific format. Maybe Trio Not Trio could have five-not-five entries someday?

Ian Mathers

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