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kneelingshadowsalome · 3 months

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Okay, so in one of the comments that you replied to in your “gold rush AU! Konig”, you stated that she’s heads over heels in love with him, but apparently hasn’t shown/told him yet. And even though he believes that she doesn’t love him, he’s still so in love with her and just wants to make her happy. (That has got to pull at her heartstrings because this odd but kind man simply just loves her.)

Would you be willing to do a next part? Showing that she was just resisting what she knew along and that was that she does love and only wants him. Because although he went about marrying her immediately instead of taking the time to get to know each other and even though he’s from an European background, who is a giant with an accent and working to hit gold to support her financially, he’s still been nothing but kind, loving, and can apparently rock her world in bed! (Basically she was resisting in giving in into admitting she loves him because she had this WHOLE mindset/vision about how it was ALL gonna go down but since it didn’t go the way she thought it would, she was resisting his love for the “fairytale” version she wanted.)

Eventually she finally confesses that she does love him but had to get to that conclusion slowly on her own terms. This of course makes him so happy and he feels so blessed to gain his wife’s love; he once again promises that he will do everything in his powers to ensure she’s happy for all the rest of the days of her life. Which he does because some time later he hits it big in gold which lets him upgrade the “shack” they’re living in to convert it into an actual home for them to spend the rest of their lives together (with future children).

And he asks her of what she wants him to buy for her since he can afford to get it for her, only for her to ask for a new and bigger (so he fits comfortably) reinforced bed; because she wants him to be able to rest properly in a comfortable bed AND she doesn’t want to hear it creak as he plows her into nirvana/heaven. This of course causes him to blue screen but once he reboots his brain, he promises that he’ll get the best bed that will not only support their nightly activities but be very comfortable for both of them.

It’s only once they get the new bed and use/“break it in”/“christen” it for the first time does he finally gets her pregnant on that first night.

Oh, your writings are just so good! 😊

Oh I love the bed scenario and König wanting to spoil her and the story about how he got her pregnant for the first time (you can’t tell me these two won’t have a small flock of annoying little kids running around eventually) so much! 😭💞

And I actually wrote a little something for this because people were putting me in jail for the roaring angst of the 1st part so here’s how these silly pookies got to their happily ever after:

Our pompous little mail order bride is, in fact, so in love with König that it’s not even funny.

It's so bad that she looks out the window and sighs as she waits for him to come home... Scoots away the minute she catches him in the horizon, of course. She has better things to do than wait by the window sill like some wanton prostitute!

She whimpers like one, however, when the door slams shut and her husband comes to grope her from behind, telling her he wants to take her on the table (there’s food there and they were supposed to eat first, what a horrible man!) Not to talk of getting wet just from the sight of him looming over her, she has no objections with getting spread on the sturdy planks for taking. She should probably be thankful that the dinner table is made of solid wood and is not some delicate piece hauled here from Europe because it could never take the brute force of König’s advances...

After they're both sated and done, he dares to dip his finger in one of the cast iron pots filled to the brim with stew. Has a taste while still inside her, only chuckles to himself when she furrows her brows from how uncivilised he is. What kind of a man barges in his home like a burglar, takes his wife on the table, then tastes the hearty stew like it’s only normal for a man to be hungry after plowing his lady until they're both shaking? Even the bed is about to break at night, these pieces of furniture have done nothing wrong to this man and yet he treats them like they're nothing but disposable bits of wood.

His lack of manners never ceases to astonish her; he even tries to give her a taste of the food too, and laughs when she pushes him away and straightens her skirts, how is she supposed to walk around with his seed running down her thighs? All the pretty things he got her from town are in need of a wash already, but she still hums a soft happy tune while looking at her reflection in the mirror, donning the pretty hat he just brought her along with coffee and flour. (She thinks he can’t hear or see her being visibly happy, but König takes mental notes every time her eyes shine a little brighter from his gifts. She's not lacking anything, that's for sure, and isn’t it nice that he remembered how she looked at that silly little hat when they walked by her favorite store…? Anything his princess wants, she shall have!)

Years and years of lonely digging in this harsh land far away from home have made her husband think that no woman could ever want him unless he buys their love, and she does enjoy the pretty little frills he brings her as offerings. But what would kill her is if he knew she had actual feelings for him… This was supposed to be an arrangement, a marriage between two adults, not a romantic passionate affair! That sort of thing only happens in books, that's the first thing she learned when she came here.

He should have courted her properly first, but now it's all ruined, there's no excitement and intensity... Except that her heart is always hammering in her chest, she feels like a trapped bird flitting inside her corset. She's always flustered when he goes under her skirts, her chest is about to collapse in on itself when she sees him flash a smile her way, carry her more silk and demurely apologize that the wrappings are dirty because of his hands, kiss her neck after copulation like it's the holiest place on earth...

And God Almighty, what would this man think of her if she confessed her love to him? He would probably laugh and think she’s a harlot who’s in desperate need of his cock, that she's indecent and impure…

Luckily, the brute is so stupid that he doesn’t see the way his little princess–as he now calls her–looks up at him when he traces her bottom lip with his thumb. She’s relatively sure he doesn’t notice the tiny gasps just before she comes, the helpless, adoring stares she shoots at him right after, because that glassy, worshipping stare of his own is only born of lust, that’s for sure.

He can’t see her figure flash in the window when he’s walking towards home, she’s made sure of that…

Or has she?

The man is dumb, but he’s not a total simpleton, even if his eternal sadness is slowly turning into a teasing, an even hungrier form of love. She fears he will simply devour her one of these days if he knew how deeply in love with him she is as well...

And she fears herself even more than she fears him. Didn’t the priest warn about exactly this kind of simple-minded, wanton lust in his last sermon? She was always taught that marriage is supposed to be about companionship and genial living together, not about sweaty, toe curling, mind numbing copulation.

They’re fornicating like animals in the little shack she has grown so fond of, shy to the changes he’s talking about every day since he struck some large gold vein. He openly fantasizes about getting them a large house, a small manor, even, and she knows it’s all just for her because this man is content with very little… So little, that he accepts any small crumb of affection she gives him like it’s an entire rain of manna from heaven.

And it’s only because she’s ashamed that she can’t show her true feelings for him. The gentlemen of the city now feel like fancy peacocks compared to this burly man who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and his dick wet. Those men look delicate and boring and ridiculous next to the hairy giant who’s forearms she stares in the evenings like they’re her own personal cancan show.

It’s crazy, how she looks at him like he’s nothing but a piece of meat – are women even supposed to feel this way? She should say her prayers, because her foreign husband looks like a god while sharpening his ax by the fire, with slow, deliberate movements, the trembling hands finding a smooth, strong dance only when they’re wielding a pickaxe or a whetstone or a knife.

He catches her staring once, her frightful stare big and helpless in the flickering flames, and he gives her a sad, longing smile in return.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he gruffs softly. “Ich weiss… I know I should shave...”

Her head gives an involuntary shake, minimal and shy, because she doesn’t want him to shave. She adores that coarse stubble that leaves her skin red and irritated, she loves how he looks when he has so much going on in his life that he doesn’t have time to groom himself.

“No…?” He asks hesitantly, straightening a little on the chair that’s really only a piece of log. “You like it like this...?”

She nods. Shyly again, and just once, while her eyes drift on his lips.

It’s intimate, how the silence envelops them with both tension and grace. It’s all she can give right now, and he knows it, knows also that this whole exchange is basically a love confession. Her affection, her want, her dedication and surrender soar and swell all at once, and he can see it... All of it.

He rises, and abandons the ax, his softening stare never leaving hers. He walks to her like a gentleman, like he's Mr. Rochester himself, like she was Ms. Eyre – although she doesn’t want to be Jane Eyre and she doesn’t want him to be a dark, handsome gentleman. She wants him to be just as he is, the stranger from the North who works hard and loves even harder, who picks her up like she’s an angel and not a lady.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm?”

His gaze is so soft, it’s starting to relax into some knowledge she has in her foolishness betrayed.

But it’s alright… Everything’s just as it should be.

She wraps her hands around his neck and whispers, “Yes,” and the smile that tugs at his lips finally melts into one of those I knew it smiles he sometimes wears when he brings her something nice from the town.

He doesn’t push her to reveal more information about how much she loves his stubble, but he does make her scream it out into the warm cottage air as he goes down between her legs. She doesn’t want to know what the local priest would say about this: a man making his mark on the insides of her thighs with that scraping beard, how he makes her core throb with his ever-hungry mouth. She doesn’t even care.

It’s a paradise and an inferno, where he’s sending her to, and who knew a brutish digger from some distant land could suddenly be so eloquent with his tongue? Who knew a man could do things like these to a woman...? Who knew married life could be like this?

“You liked that, didn’t you, princess,” he asks when he’s done with her, and holds her surprisingly gentle when she’s still shaking and squirming softly on the bed. Not God, not even the Devil, could cloud the full blown affection in her eyes. She’s in love – it’s not just lust, but love she feels for this man, and she feels like a fool for not recognizing she had gold in her hands all along.

“Yes,” she says, then smiles, then laughs, because it’s fairly obvious that she can’t speak those words even if she wanted to. He wrecked her so completely...

“I told you I’d make you happy, Sonnenschein.”

He smiles a little, looks down at her like she’s nothing but a baby who finally stopped her eternal crying.

“Oh I’m more than happy,” she says, this time tears clouding her vision, happy tears born from being free from years of imprisonment. He doesn’t strike her as the kind of man who cries, but there’s a faint glow in his eyes as well, a shimmer that both takes her in and pulls her under. This is something they don’t talk about in church... This is a thing they never write about in books.

She lays her hand on him, on the coarse cheek that is now slightly wet from a single tear.

“You’re crying,” she whispers, because her voice wouldn’t carry the weight of her words at this point.

“Ja…? Well... I’m happy too,” he explains, with a shortness of breath and a confusion to his voice.

He blinks the rest of it away, but the sweet moment stays, lingers on until she draws him into a kiss – another thing they never talk about in novels, a woman kissing a man – and she tastes both him and her on his lips, how well he loved her, and when he moans slightly from her reciprocating that love, she holds him closer, closer, closer… Until he shivers too.

#mail order bride #gold rush au #könig x reader #könig x you #könig fluff #falling in love

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

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Note To Self, A Truck Only Goes So Far On Half A Tank

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Explicit Language, Blood and Wounds

Author's Note: Oh my God and they were patient and doctor! (All parts to this story will have lyrics of Randy Houser's "Note To Self") -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was a seemingly quiet day in the clinic, how she liked it. Quiet meant no bleeding soldiers, no wounds, no worries. She could focus on maintenance, making sure her supplies were in order, and caring for her facility. Being recruited into the 141 wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d expected a tent in the middle of the desert, tools that reminded her of the American Civil War, and comforting soldiers who knew they weren’t making it home.

Instead, she was nestled in a tiny, fifteen by thirty room, black-gray walls made of metal and reinforced with concrete, LED lights overhead in a single row that lit up the room and shadowed the rest that didn’t catch, they even had a bulb that flickered every so often. A little too cold for her taste, only two windows on either side that let in what little sunshine England offered, but it did the job. It wasn’t great, but there were worse places to heal in. From her desk in the back left corner, she saw all who entered before they came in. It was, of decent surprise, when Sergeant MacTavish entered with Lieutenant Riley in tow.

She glanced over the rim of her laptop at the two soldiers, one trying to shake off the other, while the one is trying to hold him. “Doc,” he called. “A little help?”

“Might I suggest asking politely, Sergeant MacTavish?” she offered, not bothering to rise from her seat.

He frowned. “Doc, Ghost is bleeding.”

“I can see that. That being said, I’m no one to be ordered around. Ask me again. Politely.”

His jaw clenched. “Doctor. Would you please assist us by not letting one of our best soldiers bleed out?”

“I’d be happy to. It’d be a shame for such a soldier to go to waste,” she chirped, rising from her chair. “Bring him to the bed.”

“I’m fine standing,” Ghost muttered.

“Lieutenant Riley, are you a medical officer or professional?” she awaited his answer. “Lieutenant, I asked you a question. Answer me.”

“No,” he spat out.

“Then you will not be making the decisions on how I treat you. On the bed. Now.” As he sat down, he peeled off his jacket and lifted his shirt, letting her look at it. “Looks like you were stabbed. Needs stitches from what I can see.”

“It didn’t hit any major organs,” he said. “Just give me a shot and I can stitch myself up.”

She shot him a look. “Did I not just explain that you will not tell me how to do my job?” He fell silent, glaring at her and she started gathering her supplies, and putting on gloves.

“Sorry about that, LT,” Soap winced, scratching the back of his head. “Didn’t mean to.”

“I’m not bothered,” he replied. “Good strike.” He didn’t even wince as she wiped the area down with alcohol.

“Thanks. I remembered how yo—”

“Sergeant MacTavish, are you bleeding?”

He blinked in shock. “I—uh, no.”

“Are you in immediate danger of perishing?”

“I…don’t think so?”

“Are you awaiting a prescription from me?”

“No ma’am.”

“Then why are you still standing in the middle of my clinic?” she inquired. “The door’s there. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

Soap rolled his eyes and gave Ghost a look before turning on his heel. “Christ, what a fuckin’ nag,” he griped, loud enough under his breath for her to hear.

She wasn’t bothered in the slightest. She’d heard worse from her own mother.

As he left, she pulled the curtain around Ghost’s bed, blocking them from view. “This is a shot of lidocaine,” she explained, sticking into his side. “It’s going to block the pain while I check the deepness of the wound and stitch you up. If you feel it beginning to fade, let me know and I’ll prepare another round.”

He grunted in return and she took it as a go ahead; she took a cotton swab and stuck it down into the wound before pulling it out. “Five deep. Given the location, it just cut through tissue and muscle beneath. No major organs.”

She set to stitching. “You’re quite lucky, Lieutenant. This could’ve been a lot worse had it been closer to your intestines.”

Another grunt.

As she pulled the thread taut, she tied it and cut the remaining length. “That should do it. Let me—where do you think you’re going?”

Ghost started to rise from the bed. “Back to my quarters. I hate hospitals.”

“Firstly, this isn’t a hospital, secondly, no, you’re not,” she retorted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You will sit in this bed until I give you discharge to leave.”

“I don’t take orders from you. You’re USN not SAS.”

“True, we’re different militaries and no, you don’t take orders from me, but I am higher rank than you. Lay down.”

Ghost stared at her, daring her. “Gonna pull that rank, Doc?” It felt threatening.

She leaned down, getting right in his face and growled, “Lieutenant Simon Riley, hardly ever do I have to pull rank with the men and women I treat day to day. The respect I command in this clinic is the same respect given. Do not make me pull rank on you because I will take you to see the Skipper, and let me tell you, he’ll be unhappy to see me, but more so to see you in tow.” Her eyes narrowed. “Lay down. I won’t tell you again.”

They stared on another down and then he huffed through his nose, laying back on the bed. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

As she started to clean, she pulled over a BP machine and thermometer. “Remove your mask.” He lifted it above his lips. “Open.” He let her stick the metal under his tongue as she slipped the cuff around his arm and put the pulse oximeter on his ring finger. She watched the monitor for a few moments, then it beeped, and her expression pinched. “Temp’s two over a hundred. Hmm…little high for my taste.” As she pulled the cuff off, she added, “BP’s ninety-five over sixty-two. Pulse is forty-one. These sound about average?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She removed all the wires and such, leaning over him with a flashlight. “Follow my finger,” she said, holding up a finger. “Pupils are reactive. Any pain? Headache? Discomfort?”

“No.”

She frowned. “I’d like to give you an IV of fluid to rehydrate you and dose you with some extra strength ibuprofen for now.”

“I’m fine, Doc, it’s just a stab wound. I’m not dying.” He started to rise, and she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Be that as it may, I am your acting doctor. At least until your fever breaks.”

“If I leave are you going to chase me back to my quarters?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll even get off the bed.”

Seeing as he was stuck either way, Ghost let out a heavy sigh and lay back down, holding out his arm. “Just don’t stick me a shit-ton of times, yeah?”

“I’m good at my job, thank you very much,” she retorted and readied him.

He watched her. “You don’t cuss.”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “It’s for those who have a lack of vocabulary. Besides, I’m also a lady. It’s unladylike to use foul language.”

“How are you such a high toff in the military?”

“I’m assuming ‘toff’ isn’t a compliment.” She stuck the needle in. “I went to college and got my doctorate. I decided to use it to make a difference.”

“Do you feel like you’re doing it? You’re stuck with a bunch of SAS taking the piss on each other.”

“I’m patching you up, aren’t I?” she replied. “One of the best SAS soldiers this world has apparently.”

As he watched the fluid seep down the line, he started to feel drowsy after a while, lids beginning to droop, and the last thing he remembered was her pulling the curtain behind her as she left.

***

He was awakened by a damp towel being placed on his forehead and he reached up, grabbing the wrist of whoever was touching him in an iron-clad grasp; a gasp escaped them. “Lieutenant, it’s me!”

“Where’s my mask.”

“Right here,” she calmly said, and he looked, squinting in the dark to see it there on the table. “Your fever rose in the night, so I removed it. Now let go, or I’ll break your hand in three different places.” He let her go and sat back, watching her like a hawk.

“How long have I been out?”

“A few hours.”

“How long?”

“Since thirteen-hundred. It’s twenty-one-hundred now.”

“I’ve missed meetings.”

She shoved him back. “Do you ever stop being so headstrong? Captain Price knows you’re here. He told me to take care of you. Relax.”

“I could’ve handled myself,” he retorted. “It was a fever.”

“I’m beginning to learn you don’t like being told what to do.”

“No shit.”

“Watch your language, Lieutenant. This isn’t a bar, it’s a clinic for healing the wounded. You will treat it with respect.”

“That horse ever get too high?”

“Only when soldier like you think they’re indestructible,” she replied and wiped the sweat on his brow. “I don’t understand what it is about men like you. Think you’re beyond basic medical care. It’s like inhaling fumes from paint and wasting already rare brain cells.”

“That’s the most exhaustingly long way I’ve been called an idiot.”

Her lips curled up in a smile and Ghost felt something funny in his gut as she laughed quietly. “I never said that, Lieutenant.”

“Mhm.”

She looked at him. “How’s the wound?”

“Fine.”

“Lieutenant.”

“It stings.”

“I’ll prepare another lidocaine injection.”

He grabbed her coat, watching as she cocked a brow and looked between his hand and eyes. “I’m fine, Doc. Really. It’s not bothering me.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You sleep here until zero-five-hundred, and I’ll quit doctoring you, okay?”

Ghost let go of her white coat and held out his hand. “Shake on it.”

“Alright, soldier,” she said, shaking his hand firmly. “Now get some more rest.”

***

When she woke, the lights were off in the clinic, rays of light coming in from the small windows in the room. She looked over to where Ghost should’ve been, the curtain pulled back, the bed empty and made with fresh sheets.

“Can’t ever get them to stay still,” she muttered, starting to rise when she saw a note on the bedside table there; she picked it up and read it.

Sorry for the bruise. Hope this helps. -G

She turned her wrist, sure enough seeing a purplish-black bruise in the form of a hand-print on her skin; her eyes found the tube of menthol pain cream. She smiled. I guess he’s not so cold after all.

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celestiall0tus · 24 days

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Into the Fire - Chapter 6 - Across the Universes

Beginning || Previous || Next

Cicada stood in the center of the platform in Betterfly’s base. She glanced around at her friends and allies as they grouped around her. She took a breath before she addressed them.

“Alright, before we charge in, here’s the plan. Louve, you will lead a small team to search for Hera and join the main team to take on the Supreme.”

“You got it, girl!” Louve cheered.

“Thank you. Tigre Rose and Senketsu, you join Louve in searching for Hera.”

Tigre Rose and Senketsu nodded and joined Louve Grise.

“Now for the last part. The reinforcements.”

Bunella raised her hand. “Do you think we could, I dunno, get a different version of each of us? I’d like to see another version of me, if that’s ok.”

The others murmured and buzzed in agreement.

Cicada considered. “I suppose one for each of us then? Uh, who wants to be first?”

Bunella moved, but Chevalier beat her over to Cicada. Cicada nodded and used Arsenal to acquire the power of portal creation. She opened a portal that allowed an Alix dressed in torn shark-themed clothes and roller blades to step out. This Alix flashed them a big, sharp-toothed grin.

“What’s up, hoes? Megalodon at your service,” Megalodon introduced.

Chevalier’s eyes lit up. “So cool!”

“Of course, I am. I’m bad to the fucking bone, bitch. Say, nice blades you got there. Care to race?”

“Yes! Let’s go!”

“Chevalier, we don’t-!” Cicada started.

Chevalier and Megalodon took off and headed out of the base. Cicada sighed and motioned for another person. Bunella hopped towards Cicada as she opened another portal. A moment passed before a pale-skinned Rose stepped through dressed in a fur shawl, corset, leggings, and open-toed, high-heeled boots. Her eyes darted around as she cowered before them.

Bunella reached out a hand. “It’s ok. We won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”

The Rose stared at Bunella, then hissed, scaring Bunella. She cackled before she lunged for Bunella.

“Know me as Dread, little bunny. Run in fear. It makes this so much more fun.”

Bunella yelped and retreated to White Mouse’s side where Dread joined her. Cicada watched Dread torment Bunella as Ladybug joined her.

“But there’s already us,” Cicada said.

“I know, but I would like to see others of us. Wouldn’t you?”

Cicada slowly nodded and opened another portal. It flickered and grew to twice its size as a giant Marinette with golden skin, an extra set of arms, bee wings, and a massive bee-themed gown stepped out. Ladybug and Cicada gasped and jumped back.

“Who are you?” Cicada asked.

“Call me Bumblebee. It’s what my little hero name is. I suppose it works for this form, for now. Pleasure to see more mes.”

Bumblebee moved and sat behind Cicada as she scooped up Cicada and Ladybug.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Ladybug asked.

“That’s not your concern little bees.”

“Right, uh, who’s next?” Cicada asked.

White Mouse stepped out along with Senketsu. Cicada opened a pair of portals. An older Juleka stepped out of the first with teal dyed tips instead of purple, teal eyes, and wore a dress decorated with rotted, decaying bones. A Kagami stepped out of the other portal with rosy pink skin with patches of dragon scales, long flowing ombre pink, red, and cream hair, draconic eyes, and wore a sloppily tied red robe with black bindings around her chest, gloves, short shorts, and boots.

White Mouse squealed. “Oh. My. God! Look at me! Look at you.”

The Snake Juleka smiled. “Look at you, little mouse. You are adorable.”

“What’s your name?”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t know our name.”

“No. Like, hero name.”

“Hero name? Why would I need that?”

“Don’t you care about your identity?”

Snake Juleka raised a brow, then laughed. “Your universes are strange. That or mine is. Whichever, right? Well, if you need a name, call me Naga. Why? You’ll see soon.”

White Mouse and Naga joined the others. Naga locked eyes with Viperion and hissed at him. He smiled and waved, but Naga kicked him away. Cicada flinched and looked at the Kagamis. Senketsu and Dragon Kagami circled each other, then nodded.

“Senketsu.”

“Delyphne.”

The pair grunted and moved to stand with Louve Grise. Tigre Rose trotted out while Viperion joined after recovering from Naga’s attack. Tigre Rose glared at Viperion while Cicada opened new portals. A Ladybug Adrien stopped out of the first in a biker-themed hero suit.

“Mister Bug?” Cicada and Tigre Rose asked.

“Close. I’m Lord Bug! Has a nice ring, no? And it matches with my Lady Noire,” Lord Bug gushed.

Cicada and Tigre Rose’s jaws dropped. Bumblebee squealed, dropped Ladybug and Cicada, and scooped up Lord Bug.

“You are adorable! And devotion rolls off you in waves!”

Lord Bug’s eyes widened. “Can I get a picture of you? I want to show my Lady. She’ll absolutely love your dress cause I know I do.”

“Oh, what a charmer. Just like my Adrien. Honestly, Luka could learn a thing or two from the two of you.”

“Excuse me?” Viperion, Cicada, and Tigre Rose asked.

Lord Bug chuckled. “Right? Our Luka is learning. He’s been so stuck in his little shell, until me. Now that he’s also with my Lady, he’s really opening up more. Though Kagami isn’t helping matters much. She’s very, uh, what’s a good word?”

“Aggressive? Assertive? Stuck in her ways and refusing to give them up, but also fighting against them?” Bumblebee asked.

“Yeah, those! Though she’s not like that with our Lady or me, just Luka. I don’t understand it, but she’s, uh, trying,” Lord Bug remarked.

“Excuse me?” Senketsu, Viperion, Cicada, and Tigre Rose asked.

Louve Grise approached Bumblebee. “Hey, hi. Could I maybe get some details from both of you about this polycule you each have with your versions of Marinette, Adrien, and Kagami?”

Bumblebee opened her mouth, then shut it when an older Luka stepped out from the remaining portal. He towered over them but didn’t rival Bumblebee in height. Bumblebee, Lord Bug, and Cicada all gawked and stared at this Luka’s long black hair with dyed lime green tips, large, toned muscles, and glittering, golden eyes. He wore a brown corset decorated with twin black snakes, a black cape lined with a fur trim that hung off his shoulders, black gloves, pants, twin brown belts with a golden cat buckle, and knee-high adventurer boots.

“Hail, adventurers! I’m Luka Couffaine, Scion of the Snake and Black Cat. Allow me to extend my gratitude for inviting me to this party.”

Viperion gawked at Scion Luka, Bumblebee and Cicada blushed as they stared, and Lord Bug took his phone out of his yo-yo and took a picture of Scion Luka. Bumblebee snapped out of it and looked at Lord Bug’s phone.

“Send those to me. I want to show my Luka too.”

“Can I? I mean, we are from different universes?” Lord Bug remarked.

“Crap, you’re right. Dammit! I want those pictures.”

“Well, maybe Tikki has a solution.”

Bumblebee panicked. “No! No, no, no. There’s no need to include Creation in this. It’ll be fine.”

“But-,” Lord Bug started.

“I’m sure I can come up with a solution, but it’ll have to be later,” Cicada said.

“Good. I want to stay in contact with a few of you, especially this precious little bug,” Bumblebee said as she nuzzled Lord Bug.

“Right. So, uh, me, do you have a unique name to call you by? It’d be a little strange to call you Luka,” Viperion remarked.

“Let’s see, my Juleka, bless her little frustrating heart, often refers to me as either pestilence or plague. I know she’s insulting me, but it means I’m doing my job right.”

“So, how about Plague?”

Plague grinned and clapped Viperion on the back, sending him into the floor. “Wonderful idea, little me!”

Viperion groaned and gave a thumbs up. Plague snorted, threw Viperion over his shoulder and stood near White Mouse and Naga. White Mouse smiled sweetly while Naga hissed and flipped off Plague. Plague bristled and growled at Naga. Everyone eyed then and backed away. White Mouse grabbed Viperion and moved away.

“Oh great. Another Juleka with an attitude problem.”

“Oh, wonderful, another Luka with his head so far up his own ass he can’t see past himself and his growing collection of whores to sate his endless desire just like our worthless, whoreson, wash up hazbin of a father. Why don’t you crawl back through that portal of yours back to your little harems and leave this to the real heroes?”

Plague snarled. “How dare you? I am no mere tasteless whore seeking their next night of empty pleasure. I am a warrior, a protector, and a guardian. You will show the proper respect to someone that keeps you safe from yourself and your fruitless pursuits.”

“You are nothing, along with every other version of Luka out there. You are worth nothing more than the dirt under my boot you loud, pompous, egotistical, arrogant, blowhard of a meathead version of my whore brother!”

Plague raged and lunged at Naga. Naga transformed into a Naga and dodged Plague’s attack. Cicada panicked and opened a pair of portals. Out stepped a pale-skinned Mylene with empty, soulless eyes, dark hair with strands of burgundy held back by a laurel crown, and wore a Grecian burgundy and black ombre dress. An older Alya stepped through the other as Rena Rouge, but dressed in baggy pants legs and sleeves, with a form-fitting romper, stockings, and gloves with the skin exposed on her thighs, sides of her torso, and under her arms.

“Please, help if you can!” Cicada begged.

“Oh, did you need help with them? Why didn’t you say so?” Bumblebee asked.

“What’s going-?” Rena started.

Bumblebee turned to Naga and Plague. “Cease your fighting now.”

The command resonated in Naga and Plague as they stopped fighting. Bumblebee smiled and scooped up Plague, holding him with Lord Bug. She and Lord Bug shared a look and smile, then looked at Plague. Rena smirked as she looked at Bumblebee.

“You’re a Marinette, aren’t you?” Rena asked.

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen that face before whenever I ask mine about her Luka. Her and Longg often have that look when talking about the rock star, or about Marinette and the rock star.”

“Oh, c’mon! Is there any universe where Marinette isn’t with Luka?” Tigre Rose yelled.

“Yes,” Delpyhne said.

“Really? Is she with me?”

“No. Me. You ended up with a fuckboy.”

Naga laughed. “A fuckboy, eh? Is it another Luka?

“Listen here you, we aren’t-!” Plague started.

“Yes,” Delphyne said.

“Ha! Looks like he is in every universe, meathead! What about you two newbies?” Naga asked Rena and Bat Mylene.

“Nah, not in mine. He’s a flirt, sure, but his eyes and heart are with his bewitching knight in golden armor,” Rena said.

“The one I know isn’t a whore, but he is a bitch,” Bat Mylene whispered.

“Hey! He is not! And what are you doing here anyway, Dread Queen?” Lord Bug demanded.

“I came to help. You all have been running circles trying to find me. I’ve no fear you’ll find your stolen miraculouses. Besides, I’ll happily help in the liberation of the oppressed.”

“Then give back the miraculous you stole so we can stop my father!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be coming for his miraculous soon enough. Once I find him, I’ll finish what you guys started.”

Dread Queen flipped off Lord Bug and stood with Drakon. Drakon gave a nervous smile and wave, but Dread Queen ignored her.

“Let’s finish this up and get going before more fights break out,” Faerie said.

“Yes, please. Let’s just get one for Faerie and me, and-,” Betterfly started.

“We aren’t pulling any others of you with us, Betterfly. Cicada, pull forth an Emilie and me, then let’s get going.”

Cicada nodded and opened two more portals. An Emilie stepped out of the first with golden skin, sharp black nails, multicolored fairy wings, and a pair of sashes that loosely covered her breasts and vulva.

Everyone blushed and looked away. Tigre Rose, Lord Bug, and Paw Noir shielded their eyes and turned away. Delphyne stepped forward and bowed her head.

“Echidna, welcome to the fight.”

“Thank you, Delphyne. Before I help, I want-.”

Delphyne turned and pointed to Tigre Rose, Paw Noir, and Lord Bug. “Them.”

Echidna nodded and flew over to Paw Noir. He cautiously turned and immediately met her eyes. Her eyes misted over as she broke down in happy sobs.

“Look at you. So healthy, so happy. Oh, my baby boy.”

Paw Noir’s eyes lit up as Echidna kissed his cheeks and forehead, then hugged him, before she flew up to Lord Bug. She reached out to him as a Nathalie stepped out of the portal covered in Akumas with lilac skin, dark purple fairy wings, and wore deep purple stockings, gloves, boots, and leotard accented with magenta lines with a sheer ballgown skirt.

Everyone panicked at the sight of the Akumas save for Naga, Echidna, Delphyne, and Plague. Lord Bug and Ladybug stood ready to fight. Bumblebee held out a hand as the dark Butterfly Nathalie raised her cane.

“Obey and fall on your knees,” Bumblebee commanded.

Dark Butterfly Nathalie grunted as she tried to resist but fell to her knees.

“Speak your name.”

“Papillon.”

“Speak your purpose.”

“To have a little fun and relax before I welcome my Ladybug… and punish her for making me wait so long.”

Faerie gawked at Papillon in horror. Betterfly reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. She mouthed “I’m sorry,” to him.

Bumblebee huffed. A golden thread extended from her and ensnared Papillon. “You are devoted to me now. You will carry out my will and order without question or fail. You will aid us in liberating this realm. You will not harm any of my allies. You will only be allowed to harm those I deem my enemy. Speak that you understand my orders.”

“I… do.”

Bumblebee relaxed and nodded to Cicada.

“Thank you. Alright, the plan is simple. Tigre Rose, Lord Bug, Senketsu, Delphyne, Louve Grise, and Rena will find Hera. Everyone else, we’ll be going after the Supreme. Let’s show him what it means to mess with power he could never understand or hope to control.”

Everyone muttered in agreement. Bunella used her powers to call back Chevalier and Megalodon, who returned within moments of the message. Cicada took a breath and opened a final portal.

“Let’s fuck them up!”

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gynandromorph · 2 months

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cupid has been.......... less respectful, if i can anthropomorphize slightly, especially when she's with her sister. i don't feel a strong bond with her. her behavior means that i'm like the TV channel you flip to if what you WANTED to watch isn't on -- fun, but a convenience. but i know what immediately makes her blow off her sister for me: toys.

i bought a cat wand that fits in my pocket (the wand part sticks out, but that's fine), so i've been carrying it around to reward for especially important or challenging tasks. after one walk where her sister came with and barked at a passing dog, cupid hasn't been calm around other dogs on walks. today she did very well with the toy to distract her. i'm hoping that, like the other things i've desensitized her to over time, she will start to associate seeing dogs on walks with more positive emotions, particularly looking away from them, because she can't chase the toy unless she looks away. thank jod she finds toys so motivating, i suppose.

i've been trying to train recall into her with the toy, but she is so fixated on it that she won't walk more than 6 feet away before she turns around and expects the toy for coming back (instead of coming back on command). if i send her away every time she comes to a recall command, she will learn to run away as soon as she gets to me, though. this means that i can't rapidfire train her on recall. my mother keeps telling her to "come here" for things, which cupid ignores frequently, we've argued about if saying "come here" and letting the dog practice ignoring you if they don't feel like it worsens recall or not, but clearly every dog trainer everywhere is just wrong and she, woman with a dog who doesn't listen to recall in any situation, is right. i will need another recall command.

at this point, i might just reinforce her "front" command, which is a command to come sit directly in front of me and wait. it was, at least, strong enough just from recreational training to get her to come back when she and her sister got out of the yard and bolted, apparently -- i wasn't there, so she was listening to someone else giving the command. i could also strengthen "heel"... i don't like that she won't come to heel from a distance when we have worked on it so much on walks. not that it's an all-or-nothing situation where i need to pick only one command that means "come near me and do this thing."

#it is of course my job to earn my dog's respect and love

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earlgreytea68 · 1 year

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Okay, so it turns out, upon consideration, that I have a bunch more to say about "Love from the Other Side," especially in light of "Heartbreak Feels So Good" (which they obviously very deliberately released so close in time to LFTOS that you had to see it as a companion type of song) and Pete's comments about the album during the Metro show.

Because, I was thinking of the line, "Every lover's got a little dagger in their hand." Which is a showpiece, centerpiece kind of line, as the crowd shouting it at the Metro proved. And when I wrote about this line before, the couple of times I have, I viewed it as bracing yourself for betrayal, anticipating the dagger in your back: Give up what you love, before it does you in. Hurt before you can be hurt. I'm dying out here, don't look back.

But today I was thinking, You know, there's another reading of that line, and that is: Yes, every lover's got a little dagger in their hand, because everyone you truly love has the capacity to hurt you more than anyone else in the universe. Because to really love someone, you've made yourself vulnerable. YOU hand them the dagger. That's why it's there. Every lover's got a little dagger in their hand because that's what makes them a lover in the first place. Without that dagger, you couldn't actually say you love them. Love always has the capacity to hurt you, because there's so much you're exposing yourself to.

Give up what you love, before it does you in: Yeah, that reinforces that idea of love hurting you, but I feel like when I was thinking about the song before I was trying to figure out, like, what the message of it was, and I kept tipping it negative, like, "hammer to the statue of David," destroy what you love. But someone sent me an Ask pointing out that, also, the hammer can be seen as *making* the David, like, you had to hammer away all the marble that wasn't part of the masterpiece. A painting you could never frame: Maybe that's a good thing, too, maybe it's art you loved too much to pin down. You were the sunshine of my lifetime, after all.

And now, in light of HFSG, I just keep thinking, ...Wait. I *don't* think LFTOS is a negative song. I think LFTOS is about KEEPING what you love, actually. The world is chaos, but what would you trade the pain for? Love, I think. That bridge says "Give up what you love, before it does you in," but the phrase is "inscribed like stone and faded by the rain," which gives the impression that this is ancient advice, but the flip side of that is that it's so ancient that it's irrelevant. Have you ever tried to read old gravestones faded by the rain? You can't. So maybe the ancient wisdom would tell you "Give up what you love, before it does you in." But then there's a moment of silence, and then Patrick's voice barrels in. "Sending my LOVE," Patrick sings. The line immediately after the command to give up what you love is defiantly sending love instead. I know it's just a bridge moving into a refrain, but that juxtaposition feels like something to me.

Especially given what Pete said about the album. Their combined frowny face / smiley face new logo, when read left to right, as we read in English, ends with the smile bit. And Pete said that half of the album is nihilism but the other half of the album is, like, you've got to break through the nihilism and you've got to believe in yourself because their band is a case study in magic and dreams coming true. Like, that was literally how he ended his summation of the album, not on a note of despair, but on a ringing note of encouragement. I don't think this album or this song is meant to be negative. I think it's meant to be resistance. Dark in a little more light. The prince of emo, you see, grew up to realize that the most radical action in the world is to hope.

And this fits in so well with HFSG, which follows so close on the heels of LFTOS that it's irresistible to read them in dialogue with each other. Look, HFSG says, there are going to be tears, okay? It's not going to be easy. But we've got choices: The climb doesn't have to be friendless. We can dance through the pain. Is there going to be heartbreak? Absolutely, yes, nobody gets out of this without some. But that heartbreak feels so good, because that heartbreak is the point. That heartbreak shows you lived and you loved. Every lover's got a little dagger in their hand? Good. Don't look back, trust them, there's love on the other side of it all.

#fall out boy #fob #bandom

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magical-mistakes-vm · 6 months

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“Other than the fact that she has no clue what she’s doing and needs your help with the magical part, she really doesn’t need you standing up for herself, does she?” Baldur asked once they were in the kitchenette on the top floor. He was impressed, which didn’t happen often. Most women looked at the three powerful warlocks to defend them and played “damsel in distress” to get attention, but it seemed that Mahala was not the usual female in any way.

“No, she doesn’t. You can see she has a voice of her own, and isn’t afraid of using it; you can imagine that last night I too was put in my place at least once. Once she knows how to control her powers, use potions, craft runes, and encant spells, she’ll be almost as powerful as the three of us. With her stubbornness and tenacity, she will be a force to be reckoned with. I’m honestly glad she is on our side. I wasn’t being glib when I said she’s going to be my assistant.” He cast a look over at Baldur with a smirk, then turned back to the reason he was there. Vollrath filled the mug in his hand with hot water and poured in some sugar. He remembered how she liked her coffee, so he was hoping she liked tea just as sweet.

“Das Lionessa Der Nachtnebel, hearing her roar was interesting…” Elmar said, making Baldur look at him then start shaking his head. Elmar raised his brows and started smirking. There was no doubt in his mind, not after how Vollrath kept acting around her.

“No. You’re joking. No, right? Very funny.” Baldur rolled his eyes, assuming Elmar was just being an ass again. “Don’t even start with that just because Vol finally has found a woman he is…falling in love with? And can stand his grouchy ass, let alone stand UP to his grouchy ass.” Even he was finding it hard to define what the fuck he had been watching in Vollrath’s office. Elmar couldn’t be right; could he?

“Might want to tell the ancients and ancestors that, and be prepared for an argument. Her mother called her “little lioness”, and I think you just saw she can roar even without using any powers. She had no problem standing up to me last night, even when I was trying to make her back down; and she just set you two in your place without even having to raise her voice. He’s the second one to call her that in less than 24 hours, and I hadn’t thought about that prophecy for…years.” Vollrath turned around and leaned back against the counter. He had hoped that one of them would correct him on his feelings, but instead Elmar had reinforced it. Now he was sure of it.

“Come on, Baldur, it’s pretty clear and logical. It would explain what's going on with Vol.” Elmar gestured to Vollrath with his head. ”Think about it, Mr. Freeze here suddenly thaws over a random unknown and untrained witch he just met last night? Spent the night with her and not in a sexual way. That is hardly the man we have known since we were kids.. Unless….” He raised his brows, tilted his head, and grinned.

Baldur looked between them. “You really think she is? Seriously?” His brows drew together as he considered it. They were both making too much sense. If she was, then there was a lot of shit that was about to go down. He’d stand by his friends through whatever, but it could get very ugly.

“I think she is.” Vollrath didn’t hesitate, as he bobbed the tea bag in the scalding water. He’d done a lot of thinking, and it made sense. It also made everything that was happening make sense.

“I’m going to go with that as well.” Elmar said. “Who else could thaw the Ice King and get him to kiss…" he grabbed his chest as he felt the wind suddenly knocked out of him. Shaking his head, he looked at the other two. "Please tell me that was one of you two being an ass?"

Vollrath said nothing but set down the mug and immediately took off out of the room at a dead sprint with the other two men on his heels. Since it hadn't been any of the three of them, that meant there was only one room on the floor that it could have come from, Vollrath’s office. None of them knew who had caused it, but there was no way it was good. It had been a great use of power, and no one in the building should be doing that for any reason.

The scene in the office brought Vollrath to an abrupt halt, but Baldur and Elmar split up both to avoid him and due to what they were witnessing in front of them. The conference table was overturned and a Coven warlock, Jonathan, was on the ground near one end. Mahala was in the back corner of the office behind Vollrath’s desk, huddled up in Vollrath’s suit coat and trying to become one with the carpet. Her dark hair hung in front of her face like a curtain, hiding her eyes from view, but it was clear she was shaking. Baldur slowly approached Mahala, putting himself in front of her so he was all she could see, while Elmar was over with Johnathan.

"Would someone like to tell me what the fuck just went on in here?" Vollrath demanded in a voice that left no doubt that he was enraged. This was one instance that being the Master Warlock of the Coven had its major drawbacks. He couldn’t be the one to go to Mahala, he had to remain impartial until he knew what happened. His heart was back in that corner and now Baldur had blocked his view; he was hating that all he could see was Baldur's back. Worry lanced through him with each step his friend took, but he knew that the woman that he was coming to love…yes, love was the word for it…was in good hands.

"That damn sneaky bitch attacked me." Jonathan announced in a clearly irritated and confrontational tone, trying to move away from Elmar, whose brow creased at the declaration. Vollrath’s head whipped to look at him at Jonatha’s declaration, pinning him with an intense stare. "Came in to deliver reports on the progress of the Marshall project and she was rifling through your desk. When I tried to stop her, well you see what she did!" His arms gestured to the disaster the room was now in.

Elmar’s eyes met Vollrath’s and he shook his head. Two and two were equalling six, and the powerful warlock didn't like it. If she had that kind of control and knowledge, why would she have not guarded earlier? Why get to the point of passing out over Vollrath’s jealousy? No, Jonathan's story wasn't right. Elmar may have just met Mahala, but he would take her side instantly over what had been said by a warlock that had been in the Coven for decades. There was more going on, and until he knew what that more was, he wasn’t going to accept that as the story. He had been in a position of leadership too long.

"Band him." Vollrath ordered, not needing Elmar to actually say that he didn’t believe Jonathan. It had been clear on his friend’s face. He didn’t believe the other warlock either. Something wasn’t adding up with his story, based on the woman he knew and the way he’d said it happened. Mahala might have the power to have destroyed his office, and more, but she didn’t have the knowledge of HOW to do it. Her training hadn’t started yet.

Vollrath turned his attention to Bladur, who was still very slowly approaching Mahala. He could only see Baldur’s back, which frustrated him and made him wonder what was going on for his friend to be moving so slowly. Was there something he didn’t know? "Bal?"

"Working on it. Don't want on my ass, V. I don’t believe his story, but she can still kick me." Baldur called over his shoulder, then turned his attention back to Mahala who was trying her best to disappear into Vollrath’s suit coat. While he didn’t believe what Jonathan said was the complete truth, something had caused chaos in Vollrath’s office, and Mahala did have a shit ton of raw power. If she was defending herself she may have done it without realizing it. There had to be some explanation and he needed to keep her calm and trusting him enough to find out what it was..

Finally closer to her, he crouched down, still making sure that he was all she could see. An enraged Vollrath was intimidating even to him; since she was already scared, it was the last thing she needed. "Look at me, babygirl. That's it. You're safe. We're back from the other room. Can you tell me what happened?" She shook her head and Baldur wanted to hit something. Why wouldn't she talk? If she was refusing to cooperate, it was going to make things exponentially harder. "Mahala, you've got to tell your…." He stopped when he realized that she was sobbing and gesturing to her throat, but there was no sound. She wasn't refusing to tell him, she literally couldn’t. FUCK! If Vollrath was mad about the teasing, this was going to send him into an apoplectic fit.

"Vollrath, would you please take Jonathan down to containment? I think Elmar and I will be fine here." Baldur prayed his friend didn't come over to find out why he wanted him out of the room. He reached out his fingers to brush just the tips of Mahala’s as they rested on the floor. He needed her to know he wasn’t going to hurt her and also to remain calm till Vollrath was out of the room. They'd fix what was wrong, but he needed Vollrath not to be losing his shit at the time.

"Why?" Something was wrong, Baldur wasn’t telling him something, and Vollrath didn’t like it. He couldn’t hear Mahala talking to his friend. He only had heard Baldur’s voice. With the slight confrontation earlier, he was sure he should be able to hear her. What were they hiding from him?

"Trust me." Baldur closed his eyes and prayed to the ancients to help them. “Just please take him out of the room.” He leaned forward and laced his fingers with Mahala’s keeping his eyes on hers. They would figure out how to fix this, but he needed Vollrath out of the room so they could.

Jonathan started to protest the request by saying that he was being treated like the guilty one when she had attacked him; and that seemed all Vollrath needed to get him to drag the warlock from the room. Now Baldur and Elmar only had a short time till he'd be back to figure out what was wrong and fix it. No doubt Vollrath would be as quick as possible since he couldn’t have missed something was very wrong.

"She can't make a sound." Baldur scooped the frightened woman up off of the floor and took her over to the couch. "If it's not her boyfriend trying to give her a stroke, one of his employees is trying to kill her." Gently he once more laid her down.

"Trust us, sweetheart. We may be assholes, but we would never purposefully hurt you, and Vol will lose his mind if you're badly hurt. We’re going to figure out how to fix whatever is wrong." Elmar gently took her hands to get them to release Vollrath’s jacket. When it fell open, both warlocks swore under their breath. Her entire throat was a mottled purple and red bruise. "I'd say she hit him in self defense. That is an ugly bruise." Elmar’s words came out slow as he took in what was in front of him and tried not to follow Vollrath down to containment.

"Good bet." Baldur sighed as he agreed, his finger gently traced over the skin of her throat. The bruise was beginning to swell, but held no residual magic that he could detect "I can't find any magic tether or spell remaining. Enchantment of some kind? He's got a wrought iron band on, he can't be holding her by force. See if you can find something over in the mess. Vol's going to be back any second and it’s going to get ugly fast." He saw Elmar’s shadow move as the other warlock went to try and see if he could find a talisman or other object.

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blueboyluca · 1 year

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As you all know, I’m not a professional dog trainer, but it’s my hobby so I have a great interest in the profession. I’ve been thinking about the whole “two sides” thing that seems to be the defining mode in which the industry operates – “balanced” or punishment-reliant trainers and “force free” or reinforcement-reliant trainers.

I’ve been thinking about that bicycle guy on Twitter (I cannot find the tweet for the life of me) who theorised that his position as anti-car is a deradicalised position, as it is more radical to fundamentally structure society around vehicles over people and the environment. I’ve been thinking about this for months and how it applies to most (all?) of my progressive positions, including dog training. In my view, it is more radical to use punishment as a foundation for interactions with animals; it is a deradicalised position to attempt to minimise use of aversives.

I’ve been thinking about how demoralised I personally feel about encountering punishment-reliant modes of operation both online and in person, for example, my forays into reddit and utter dismay at the breadth of punishment-first mentality. And I’ve been thinking about how people like Michael Shikashio strongly believe in building and maintaining bridges with people “on the other side”.

Part of me is sympathetic to the chronically online “force free” crowd who think that any crossing of the bridge is an endorsement. I don’t actually agree with this sentiment, but the visceral reaction I have is distaste, so I understand where they are coming from.

I struggle more with understanding where punishment-reliant trainers like Ivan are coming from, especially when they are educated. This commenter on Michael’s post helped me understand a little better:

As a crossover trainer myself, I keep trying to imagine how I would have responded to this culture war as a young trainer. I don’t remember ever having a bright line moment where I said, “from this point forward I will be force-free.” That’s not how it worked for me, and I imagine that’s not how it works for most trainers. It’s more of a subtle shift over time. Since then, the science has only gotten more and more clear about the fact that humane, force free training is best for results, best for animals, and best for humans. I’ve been puzzled and sad that instead of everyone gently moving toward the obvious solution, some have really dug in their heels and gotten louder about their ideas that using force on dogs is absolutely necessary. The only real difference these days, from my perspective, is that the younger force free trainers have gotten equally loud. I’ve been deeply curious about what keeps trainers like Ivan, who have been training and learning for decades, and who’ve had access to all the same information I did, so firmly in the “aversives are necessary” camp. Why would an experienced, successful trainer who has dedicated their life to these animals be so hellbent on continuing to hurt them in the name of training? My answer can be found at about 1:00:20 in. Because he truly believes that if we can’t “control” dogs we can’t have dogs. And that moment in the interview made him human for me. Because if I truly believed as he does, that we can’t love dogs, and welcome them into our lives the way we do, without aversives, then I too would be desperate to preserve aversives in dog training.

This is where I will always butt heads with punishment-reliant trainers. I fundamentally do not agree with this position centred around "control". (It's a nuanced discussion, including my thoughts around dog culture today, my understanding of the partnership between humans and dogs historically, and my acceptance of the very real threat dogs can pose to people on a basic predatory level. I think it's also why I struggle to accept "slippery slope" arguments as they feel in the same vein.)

Michael’s approach to this issue is the activism approach – you use these high profile names to cast a wide net. You’re not going to catch the smallest fish that have no interest in being deradicalised, they'll swim right out of the net. You probably won’t catch the slightly bigger fish either, who need more time in the primordial soup. But there are two categories you could catch, the second biggest fish who are open to change and the biggest fish who are already halfway there. It’s these people I assume Michael is actually targeting, and not Ivan or his most devoted followers.

To people in the shit, this feels wrong. Because you see the bad stuff all the time. You see any open hand as a capitulation to the other side. But in the world we live in, I think it’s the only way. Think of parenting, right? There are so many shitty parents. But there’s no way to just outright stop shitty parents being shitty, they’re only going to get slightly less shitty over time. But you can’t just… give up. Because humans will keep having babies and babies are also humans and so we need to keep trudging along trying always to deradicalise shitty parents.

I mean, it’s the same for any progressive movement: fix your heart or die. You’ve got three categories of “the other side” that have the potential to fix their hearts, and you’ve got one category that will eventually die out.

I think that Dr Susan Friedman’s discussion of this topic on their recent appearance on Enrichment for the Real World helped me formulate this understanding, while also allowing for the feelings of anger in the deradicalised camp.

I don’t hold the value that people shouldn’t be angry. And I mean, I’m angry about many, many things and they’re righteous angers. But I can say for me, from my point of view, I can remember the previous generation. And when you come from that generation’s force and coercion, to my parents that turned down that dial, at least mine did, and then my generation that turned it further down. We know better now, but part of the reason why we know better, or we’re moving in that ongoing, always improving direction, part of the impetus of those changes is the righteous anger. So, I never want to forget that without the righteous anger that I read about, and hear about, and the information it holds for us. About what it was like to be in those situations, and so forth. That is our, our best source of change. I remind people that we didn’t know what we know now, and that each person will experience that effect in their lives. That they look back and think, how could I have missed this? That's just a very natural part of growing. But at the same time, this information is very precious because it’s part of the impetus we need for change. If we don’t get that feedback, what would be the reason for changing what we do?

I struggled with this segment because on the one hand I agree that progress has been made and can only be made incrementally like this, but also it’s troubling to present this to anyone who has suffered under previous regimes. But then I think, as exhausting as it is to consider, the answer is to keep the open hand and keep the open dialogue – and keep the anger. As Emily Strong said on the same episode:

I think it’s really important, and much appreciated, that you don’t tone police people and that you give them the space to have and express those emotions. Because I see that happening so much with people who are pushing for change in general, everywhere. I think that tone policing happens, like you’re not going to be as effective as if you’re angry. And that’s simply not true, as you pointed out.

But it’s not a singular effort. The weight of the world isn’t on individual shoulders. It needs to be a collective effort from all those in the deradicalised basket. To take your turn to try, and tap out when you need a break – but never stop. A lot of the time, the Michael Shikashio approach is going to be the most effective for starting the deradicalisation, but the righteous anger Susan and Emily are talking about is the impetus for even trying.

I don’t have any grand conclusion here, just that I think I am understanding things a bit more clearly at the moment.

#dog thoughts #a caveat here is I do not agree with platforming #some people suggested talking to Ivan is akin to talking to a white supremacist #I don't think it's 1:1 #there is not 'open hand' with positions such as white supremacy #platforming is a real issue and dangerous #I do not think that is analogous in dog training #because broadly speaking everyone in this sphere likes dogs to some degree #it's just not the same discussion

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hoardlikegoldenirises · 6 months

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whoa, hey, finally finished this lol — Advanced material suits for Scratch (Seth), Electrojet (Annie) and Geckonyx (Naomi).

i considered whether grouping multiple sets together would be a good idea (i don't even have the other ones drawn, though, just these three) but I think i'll just do them three at a time...

closeups:

Scratch v2:

I designed this one a little while ago actually, and you can see the original sketch for it (here). I don't know that I've ever necessarily said what Seth's powers are but the short version is: they have spiritfire powers. soulfire. life force. what have you. thus the little "is suit fireproof? idk lol" note — incorporeal fire does not burn corporeal materials, so Seth doesn't need to be fireproof technically. This flame only burns psychically. or... psionically... or whatever. ow, my emotional turmoil!

eventually i wanna doodle some stuff showing some of their less obvious powers... (ability to see souls...)

Anyway, sleek horned helmet etc. Taking my original sketch and trying to figure out what in the fuck was happening in the grille was challenging but I really like how it turned out, personally.

The whole suit I wanted to like... both make it significantly smoother and sleeker while also having hints of like, Seth's experience with hand-to-hand combat, so I ended up reinforcing the knuckles and fingers instead of the big padded kind. Like it's probably got some kind of gel lining or something inside that fancy science mumbo-jumbo exterior, but idk what 😂

And I wanted to do a nice gradient of pastel colors esp since their flames are like, a mood ring and change color based on emotional states so... it seemed nice. yellow on the knuckles to match the yellow on the shoes at the end of the gradient and ofc a fire color. i tried some other colors but it didn't look as good.

see, shoes. the stripe twisting up from their heel like a curling flame or wisp of smoke perhaps... some nice thin flexible sport shoes but still with some toe protection... and some lugs i bullshitted for traction LOL

the back is pretty simple.

Electrojet:

Here's Annie. Her homemade costume is pretty bulky and not very stylish, because she is a very practical person, so for the advanced suit aka the more "superhero-y" approach, I tried to balance the practicality with a more sporty and sleek, stylish aesthetic that still communicated the kind of aviator look she has going.

This helmet is also like. Not even a little bit secret identity-friendly, now that I think about it... but there's a chance she doesn't have one after a certain point... idk...

I figure the advanced suits also have very advanced insulation so I don't think she has to worry about getting cold even in just the skintight jumpsuit but I wanted to include the jacket cause I thought it would look nice. so she can take it off and go without, or have that extra bit of protection.

idk why the circle though. i think annie maybe just isn't very good at "branding."

Annie works for NASA (as an astronaut) and she was in the ISS when she got blasted, so her powers are like... a little more aurora themed. flight with ionized trails, usually blue-white but can be more colorful depending on like... altitude... atmospheric composition... etc. oh also she has electrical powers and the ability to magnetize and degauss things including herself (but she's no magneto lol). capable of mach-1 but really anything over 600 mph is dangerous for her.

She gets a snoopy cap cause, again, astronaut. idk who she's communicating with as Electrojet but it's part of the aesthetic lol... I doubt the microphones work particulary well when she's going like... 500 mph... I guess I COULD have given her a full-face visor but eh, in the spirit of superheroes: *handwaves* it's whatever.

Also in the spirit of superheroes is giving her a very obvious choking/neck-breaking hazard but I just thought the long aviator scarf would look nice if she's flying. what is a scarf but a really skinny cape that's wrapped directly around your neck.

anyway if i'm running w/ the magical girl transformation thing for everyone (which is me saying: "i don't want to think about how anyone stores their costumes") it doesn't matter that much cause it can just dissolve if it gets caught.

shoes. i will be honest. these are just carhartts with some minor modifications LOL (and a completely made-up hybrid sneaker sole) — does she REALLY need boots in this fancy suit when all her powers are things like flight and electricity? probably not, but, you know, the aesthetic.

Geckonyx:

Okay I already made an Entire Separate Post for Naomi since I designed like five costumes for her, so if you want to read all about those you can do so: here.

tl;dr: Geckonyx is a wallcrawler and now also has a poison touch, and her costume is very sparkly. Oh, and carbon nanotubes.

I also updated the OG post in a couple of spots cause as you can see I added a tiny bit of texture to the green fabric of this costume.

helmet vs. mask, full glove vs. fingerless, etc.

#nadiart #not fanart #arghdesign #shiny art #scratch #scratchverse #electrojet aka annie #geckonyx aka naomi

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selenityshiroi · 2 months

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FFVII REBIRTH COMPLETED

Well...that was a complicated ending. I understand why people are as torn over it as they were Remake's ending.

The multiple worlds thing is confusing af but I do actually think they have a fully realised plan for it. This isn't a 'keep tacking things on because we have to make multiple portable games' like KH deal. They've been able to plan the full scenario and whilst they keep leaving the endings confusing and complex to keep people talking about them till the next game I do hope that the finale of game 3 WILL wrap things up.

Things I liked:

BARRET. HOLY SHIT. HE HAD SO MANY GOOD SCENES. His VA is phenomenal, the banter and connection with all the characters was amazing, we got to see his back story (and even got a glimpse of Myrna :((()...They did him SO GOOD.

Yuffie. She was perfect. She came in like a wrecking ball and didn't let up. They didn't soften her laser focus on materia and it still got her into trouble (and I'm sure the great betrayal will happen in part three still) but you also got to see her bond with the crew and get invested in things and provide a different persepective.

NANAKI. I LOVE HIM. I love how they dealt with the reveal of him actually being a baby. I love that the crew often call him Nanaki after the reveal (I actually squealed the first time Cloud referred to him as Nanaki instead of Red). I really...really hate that Nanaki stiil gets referred to by the designation Hojo gave him. And the trial at the Temple of the Ancients reinforced that for me. So the crew calling him Nanaki is very important to me. But he had such great scenes with Cloud, the trial with Barret was great...I already loved Nanaki but the game was like VINDICATION.

Cait Sith. I still don't forgive them for the mispronunciation but Cait meows the Victory Fanfare sometimes so I am slightly healed. He was amazing. I got a little teary when 1.0 met his fate, even though I knew about 2.0 because I've played OG.

Aerith.

Tifa. OMG they gave Tifa a lot in this game. I was expecting her to take a bit of a back seat, since she will become super relevant next game and I was expecting it to be Aerith's time to shine. But instead we got Tifa caught up in the weapons plot.

Which leads me to Cloti. OMG.

The kiss has gone viral and it was so shocking that they went there this early. But also not because they've been building this more intimate and physically close bond between Cloud and Tifa throughout both games. The target is obviously the Highwind and eventually AC so it's nice to see the relationship building. And it also deepens the 'Cloud's mind' plot. Because we know Tifa draws out real Cloud. It's why she can help him in the lifestream, it's why he remembers stuff about their past even when everything else is messed up, it's why he is drawn to her because he's stil that young boy who was head over heels for his next door neighbour (underneath the trauma).

But it was actually everything about Gongaga that made me go wow. because, again, it's set up. For Cloud's breakdowns, for future conflict as we approach the Northern Crater, for Tifa being able to use the lifestream to help Cloud.

Cloud was also wonderful, still (when in the right frame of mind) opening up to everyone, building bonds, softening up. And the breakdowns were handled so well. I also liked how they adapted his recollection of Zack.

I love the world, I loved the exploration. Combat was AMAZING. At first I stuck to my favs but at one point I realised that I had SO MANY weapon passives to unlock so I spent some time playing the other characters and EVERY character is super fun to play.

The whispers didn't affect the story too much so we got to experience the plot mostly as expected with some fun twists and turns and a few exceptions to the fun bit.

I love the piano mini game. I love the baby chocobos. I love that you can pet Fluffy.

Now...there is one character I didn't mention above. And I'm sure some will think it's because shipping. But, no, it's because they fumbled her.

In what SHOULD have been her game, where she bonds with the crew and makes them (and us) DEVESTATED at her death, they barely gave her anything of substance. MULTIPLE TIMES when they would wrap up a storyline the entire cast of characters would have something to say and take place in post mission banter...except Aerith who would be doing idle animation in the background. She got two significant scenes. Cosmo Canyon and TotA. Cosmo Canyon was a monologue so we didn't even get to see her bond with the crew over it and TotA her most powerful scene was her trial, which none of the others witnessed. And then they dropped the ball on her death scene, too (and, yes, conspiracy theories shut up...she's dead) by making it a header note in a poorly paced ending sequence that includes a marathon boss frenzy.

I don't ship her with Cloud. At all. I can barely see any romance in even their most intimate scenes as it all seems very platonic to me (especially in the context of Tifa and Zack existing). But the ending scenes of Aerith and Cloud were super sweet and melancholic. The failure of a date, the good bye, his brain just not able to process her death just like he couldn't process Zack's...it was pretty touching. But you just DIDN'T GET CHANCE to realy feel it. Because PRESS BUTTONS...TAKE PART IN 12 BOSS BATTLES...HAVE NEW BATTLE MECHANICS WITH ZACK...GHOST AERITH IS HERE SO NOW YOU DON'T FEEL HER LOSS

SE fucked that up. Even if they pull off the whole complacated multiple worlds stuff that a lot of people don't have faith in...they will not get that moment back.

Finally, there is one gameplay thing I hated. And that is the combination of Queens Blood, Fort Condor and that stupid Robot Battle thing. Because that is three tactical/stratagy based mini games to deal with in a non tactical/stratagy RPG. And I hate them. Queens Blood less so than the other two, because at least replays are cheap and easy. But they are not my cup of tea AT ALL. And I'm so annoyed that the Cosmo Canyon Protorelic is locked behind the stupid robot game.

BTW I clocked in at about 95 hours. I've not done everything but I did a very high chunk.

Edit: yeah...one final thing. Cid and Vincent might as well not have been in the game. They were less relevant than Johnny to the story.

But I'll end on another positive: the Junon Parade. Not only did I greatly enjoy the actual parade but MIDGAR 7th INFANTRY.

Please get them as the crew for the Highwind. I also loved Cloud's mini arc of becoming a successful leader. A+++

Overall my score of the game is probably 9/10. Might drop down or go up depending on the final game. But I'm super satisfied with it.

#ffvii rebirth spoilers #spoilers #ffvii rebirth

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sansloii · 5 months

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it was instinctual. made without any thought, the way he turned to dakota when she sighed her frustration, that she 'didn't know what to say to them.' always close by her side, the hound suddenly found himself closer yet as he turned on his heel, hand caressing her jaw with thumb pressed to her lips. " you don't need to tell them anything, " he said, voice a low murmur— meant solely for dakota's ears but also charged with... something else. something that made his touch lingering, despite the point of his statement simply being 'i'll take care of it,' though he was terrible at pretending like she wasn't all that was on his mind in that moment.

If asked, Dakota would say that she's well accustomed to Ignis lingering near her. He wanders close or drifts away as needed, but she's never doubted where he was relative to her. The man's presence is a constant that's consistently reinforced time and time again — whether it be with the soft hum that rumbled at the back of his throat when he's about to say something to her, or the careful grasp of her arm, elbow, or shoulder to get her attention.

Always on guard, always at her side; that is who he was — who he is. She, of all people, would never deny that she took comfort in that.

A larger part of her knew that the comfort she found in him was often due to the protection he offered her — and in a professional capacity, at that. She walked and he was to be her shadow, her sword, and her shield if and when she needed it. She need not ask for it and oh — did she take it and him for granted some days. Honestly, how could she not? That isn't to say that she was inattentive or she wasn't aware of her surroundings… but more to say that anything she saw or noticed in her surroundings, she could lean toward Ignis knowing that he already has his eyes on it. It's faith — it's trust — that if nothing else, he was focused…

…and it's that very same trust that fuels and give voice to the small voice in the back of her head that tells her “This one is safe.”

The voice stays small no matter how many times the thought pops into her head, but its message is always the same — that he's safe. It repeats each time she inches out of her comfort zone with him, whether it be to tell him something about herself or speaking more freely in his presence. The strength at which it reaffirms that he's safe — she's made him safe — grows the more time she spends around him… and she takes comfort in that, too. That, she knows is a dangerous thing to take for granted but she does so anyway.

It's what coaxes her time and time again towards a place of familiarity with Ignis. Here and there, it'll tug her towards something more, but she's been good about not getting too caught up in the emotions that surface when he is near…

…but she is not perfect. No one is.

In this instance, she falters after a sigh of frustration, venting about a complication that she ( quite honestly ) didn't want to deal with. Leaning back against the side of her desk, she voiced her frustrations — more to herself than to the bodyguard lingering near her. She runs her hand through her hair, trying to think of just what she'd tell the business partner that she now had to answer to, and Ignis is at her side by the time the limb drops.

Him touching her is nothing new… but the caress she receives is.

Calloused fingers trace the line of her jaw and his thumb finds a place against her lips. “You don't need to tell them anything”, he tells her and she knows full well that it's to say that he's go it handled. However, she doesn't quite process what's said. The brunette's thoughts, instead, are more focused on the way it was said — on the way his touch lingers against her skin. She watches his gaze drop to her lips and catches the restraint that flickers across his features like a dying flame. Try as he did to pretend that this was a casual interaction, Dakota knew it was not.

Oh, how easy it is for her to listen to that little voice that tells her that he's safe. At the slightest pressure from his thumb, her lips part as if to say “Please”.

Unprompted | @rexpyre

#rexpyre #🗪 ┊ ⧼ you all are some chatty cathys! ⧽ ⇹ ( asks. )#✖ ┊ ⧼ i’ve got heels longer than your dick ⧽ ⇹ ( d. )#♥ ┊ ⧼ if only god fathom the lengths i would go for you and only you ⧽ ⇹ ( dakota & ignis )#.now KISS

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vvrcths · 1 year

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where: One Man's Trash when: mid-evening whom: @javiervidal

When Lucretia had gotten the call, she understood nigh-immediately that she was likely the last on his list of people to talk to. She wasn't offended though, no, she was thrilled. It meant that she still had some semblance of meaning to him. His eat, pray, dick tour through another country had not lessened how she effected him and, whether she understood it or not, that made her happy.

No, instead she'd taken her time, deciding to be a little late to the appointment time SHE had agreed to and set up; just long enough for him to think she had almost forgotten.

Each step through One Man's Trash was calculated, as if looking for spots to make sure the sound of her heels resonated — reinforced with titanium with a removable tip to reveal a stiletto blade — as much as they could.

Who dresses like that to a first meeting with their new boss? Even if it is your ex-husband. A perfectly tailored deep red silk suit jacket buttoned just beneath her rib cage but left open to reveal the bare skin of her decolletage and sternum as she wore no shirt underneath; a pair of matching silk pants made for her, clinging against her hips and snug at her thighs but flaring out a little towards the ankle; a pair of black heels with six inch high heels and modifications to suit her tastes; her hair was pulled up, a messy bun that left pieces falling to frame her face, artfully done to seem as if it wasn't, but each aspect was perfectly planned; across her fingers — between the top and middle knuckle as well as beneath the middle knuckle — several rings of varying metals and gemstones, but all perfectly meshing with her entire vibe.

The real kick was, dangling on a long, delicate chain in the center of her bare chest, next to a tattoo of a black tattoo of an anatomical heart with lines of gold in the style of kintsugi, was a small charm — an arrow made of platinum pointing straight at her real AND tattooed heart — seeming almost fragile in the way it hung yet she never seemed worried.

No, this wasn't how one dressed to meet with their new boss; it's how one dresses when they plan to kill their new boss. Or, perhaps, other fun things.

She knocked on the door but didn't wait to be admitted, instead pushing it open and letting it close in behind her. Her arms would come to cross her torso, one hip cocked out and looking all at once excited and bored. He'd know better than anyone there wasn't a part of her outfit that didn't house some kind of weapon... the cuffs of her sleeves, in fact, had razor thin garrote wires, for instance.

"Javier," the name on her tongue felt like a forbidden prayer, a litany of gospel she had no idea of and dripped a venom laced sweetness, "so glad to see you made it back in one piece. Oh, I apologize."

A slight grin tugged one corner of her mouth, head cocking to the side, "I should say... Jefe."

#c: javier #otp: javier & lucretia #threads: javier 001 #threads #I hope this is okay it got away from me gslkndglsdg #LET THEM RUIN EACH OTHER GOSH #dead #okay lsngdls #r: arsenic in her veins

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mercuryferns · 1 year

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Not to “vent” on main, but i want to speak about pride and autism for a bit

I’m currently in a weird place in my life where im trying to accept many aspects of my identity that i considered ugly for a long long time. one of those being my autism, which i was diagnosed with a little earlier on this year. having that diagnosis fundamentally changed how i viewed myself in ways i struggle to describe to you. i had a brief phase where in desperation to dissociate myself from the stigmatized perception of autistic people that had unconsciously polluted my brain, i swore to use terms like “aspie” and “high functioning” “level one” as if allistic society seeing me as not human but in a slightly more appealing way (that being that instead of being seen as a four year old incapable of original thought i would be a weird carbon copy of albert einstein destined to cure cancer) would somehow make my life easier.

it doesnt, all it does is reinforce the same pseudo scientific eugenic hierarchy of what a clever worthy person is and what a broken unintelligible undeserving one is. realizing that was tough, because i grew up coping with my autistic traits by being whatever people wanted. i was like cheap air dried clay where the more i tried to mould myself into something i wasnt the more i started to crack, smooth over it meticulously with spit and desperation. im still in this spot of fragmented identity, in a liminal space between what i always wished i could be and the disappointing reality of what i actually am.

is it disappointing? is it only disappointing because i’m who i was taught was wrong?

i got what is known as an “unofficial” diagnosis. in other words, we went to a psychiatrist, did an evaluation, and was told hey yeah you’re right. this was because my mother wanted me to be diagnosed with asbergers, which is no longer recognized. i know she meant well. she didnt want me to feel like i was carrying a label too heavy for me. but theres a major part of me - especially after finding out exactly why the label “asbergers” exists - which is in violent opposition to it.

and. upon finding validation in the online autistic community i discovered just how unfounded my shame is. Being autistic is beautiful in so many ways. it makes me so sad that i would ever dismiss it as a part of me. I dont know how i managed to evade diagnosis for so long.

(when i look back on my childhood, i find it riddled with memories of rooms with yoga balls and swings; middle aged ladies with pixie cuts and the same lipstick spending hours trying to teach me how to write the letter C; pulled out of class “where am i going?“ “i think you need to calm down” “i am calm”; my father eyeing my ankles and calling “flat feet” as a reminder to let my heels touch the cold grainy tiles of our stoep, drawing faces on my erasers and sobbing for days when a girl threw penelope in the bin of the afrikaans class; reciting “just think about something else just think about something else just think about something else just-“ while attempting to get myself to eat egg and toast that was too toasted and anything with more than two identifiable textures; seeing someone in my spot in my spot in my spot in my spot in my spot thats my spot thats my spot thats my spot feeling something boil in my stomach; what are you doing i dont like it i dont understand are friends supposed to do this to me?)

Yeah. I have to study for my history exam now. But the point is that im autistic. And thats not only okay thats fucking awesome. Its a huge part of my life and if your idea of normal is what has caused me so much pain and dissociation throughout the years then deal with it when i actually embrace my own brain.

allistics who are cool, this is not intended to shit on you. just some thoughts ive had lately.

#i speak #ableism tw #tw #autism #asbergers #ugh #asd #neurodiversity #autistic #disability #i have mixed feelings about using the phrase disabled to describe myself #i feel like i havent really like #struggled to the extent that i can call myself that #but heck #learning disabilities #vent #identity #I was technically diagnosed first when I was 9 #but my mother decided I didn’t need to know that lmao

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aspiringtrashpanda · 2 years

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🍙TOGE x YUUTA💍

This is for my spontaneous event, which can be found here! Always happy to write my OTP 💕 (even though we put them through so much pain...)

C/W: Hurt + comfort, smoking, mentioned civilian death, suicidal ideation

“Toge.”

His heels kicked the concrete side of the building, his legs dangling over the lip of the roof. One wrong move, one clumsy adjustment the moment the wind blew his overgrown bangs into his eyes, and he would tumble to the pavement thirty stories below.

Toge wondered if he would be gone before he hit the ground.

His fingers itched as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth, his scarf pushed down and tucked beneath his chin as he sucked on the butt end. The smoke flooded his lungs, tacky tar clinging to reinforced brachioles, to cursed vocal cords, to a voicebox with the power to crush, twist and blast away.

The poison spewed from parted lips, smoke spiraled around his shoulders, clawing up his neck, dancing in front of his vision like a reminder of the souls that had left bodies too soon. The souls he hadn’t been able to save.

The squeak of sneakers on concrete.

The rustle of baggy fabric.

A voice teeming with concern.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Toge did not look at Yuuta, did not move from his perch on the high-rise's roof. The air was frigid here, chilled by the night, casting shadows of deep indigo over Toge’s surroundings and making his hands shake as he smoked his cigarette.

This was where he belonged. In the shadows. Cold and alone and blue.

He kept his eyes fixed to the smoke, his exhale visible as it curled towards the grey-blue of the dawn sky, reaching for the last of the sparkling stars above, mirrored below in the yellow glow of streetlamps and the lights of the occasional car.

If he turned his head ever so slightly to the right, he would see the alleyway where he’d lost control.

He didn’t dare look, terrified that her blood still stained the sidewalk.

“Toge, sweetheart,” Yuuta spoke softly, his arms curling around Toge’s waist, pressing his chest against Toge’s shoulderblades, keeping him steady, preventing him from teetering off the edge. “What are you doing?”

Toge stiffened in the embrace, aware that the smell, the smoke would give him away even if he tossed the cancerstick to the ground.

“A...cigarette?” Yuuta sounded confused, his chin hooking over Toge’s shoulder as he peered at the stick burning bright between Toge’s fingers, “But, Toge, your lungs are so important for your technique, and the smoke can’t be good for your throat and... Ah.”

Because what better way to attone for your sins than render your weapon permanently inaccessible.

Toge hummed, a scratchy sound that had yet to smooth out after weeks of vocal rest. There was a small part of him that believed him deserving of the irritation, the pain. There was a larger part of him that hoped he never healed entirely.

Yuuta was quiet, his dark hair brushing against Toge’s cheek as he leaned his head against Toge’s. Toge flinched, the idea of any part of Yuuta grazing the seals on either side of his throat churning his stomach, sending chills down his spine.

It had never been a problem before. Before, when he hadn’t been a murderer, and Yuuta could stroke his thumb over Toge’s face wihout the latter ducking away.

But now it felt as though an angel was caressing the mark of Satan himself.

“I know it never gets easier. I...” Yuuta started, his voice wavering as he took a deep breath. It felt as though he was readying himself to say more, but instead of words, a heavy exhale joined the tendrils of smoke around them.

Slipping the cigarette between his lips, Toge signed, “There are only so many times people can tell you that it wasn’t your fault until they realize that it was.”

“I know,” Yuuta whispered.

The words hung in the air, lifted by the smoke curling into the letters, spelled out in front of Toge.

Yuuta jerked back from Toge’s back, panic vibrating his words as he spewed, “I mean, I’m not saying it was your fault! Not at all! It wasn’t.... You were trying to help... I Just...”

Toge felt so cold without Yuuta’s frame supporting him.

“I understand,” Yuuta offered after a moment’s silence, his voice distant, and not just due to the physical gap between them, “I understand how it weighs on you, how it makes you wonder if you’ll ever recover.”

“But you know, I don’t think we have to recover from things like this. We don’t have to move on or reframe our thoughts or get better,” He said, his tone pleading, “We can keep this weight, can use it to train, you know? We can acknowledge the people we couldn’t save because we weren’t strong enough, or fast enough, or loud enough.”

The sound of his shoe scuffing the ground. Toge could picture it so clearly – Yuuta with his hand rubbing the back of neck, brow furrowed in concern as he muddled through the words.

“You... You’ve saved so many lives. And it’s okay to mourn those you didn’t, but make them a part of you. Never forget them, and use their strength to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

The still of the dawn began to break, a bright light on the horizon painting the sky in shades of yellow and pink and orange, winding between brush strokes of blue and purple. It bathed the city, chasing away shadows of doubt into cracks in the sidewalk, bringing forth hope sparkling in the pristine windows of skyscrapers. Heat washed over Toge, prompting his skin to burst out in gooseflesh where the warmth of morning met the chill of the night.

“Rise when you’re ready, sweetheat,” Yuuta’s voice was barely audible against the hallelujah chorus of the heavens, the masterpiece stretching before Toge as he shed his regret and embraced the promise of a new day. “You can take as long as you want, just... Don’t give up, okay?”

Slowly, carefully, Toge climbed down from the edge of the roof, his sneakers grounded on concrete once more. The cigarette fell from his fingers, crushed by his sole against the rooftop.

“Shake,” He tugged at Yuuta’s jacket, pulling him closer, looking at him head on for the first time in days.

And Yuuta beamed at him, beautiful blue eyes gleaming with wet relief, glittering in Toge’s glow. His voice wavered, choked by emotion as he lifted trembling hads to cup Toge’s face, “There’s my sun.”

Toge collapsed into Yuuta’s chest, clinging to him as many weeks’ worth of tears broke loose, the dam finally worn down enough to collapse.

They stood there in the light of the sunrise, sobbing as their hearts exchanged all that had been bottled up, all that Toge had run from. Yuuta’s strong arms held him close, squeezed him so tight that Toge thought he would melt into Yuuta’s skin, that they would become an inseparable blob parading as modern art. And Toge thought, then, that he could survive anything as long as Yuuta was at his side.

“You know, they say the sun is always brightest after the darkest storms,” Yuuta hummed, resting his chin on the crown of Toge’s head.

Toge squirmed in his arms, turning so that he could watch the sunrise with his boyfriend. He signed, “If you refer to Gojo as they again, I’m breaking up with you.”

Yuuta snorted, “It wasn’t sensei! I read it in a book!”

“Yuuta,” Toge spoke quietly, adding, “Your dorm is literally empty. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you read.”

“Oh shush.”

“I thought you were illiterate,” He teased.

Yuuta’s arms tightened around his waist, an incredulous protest vibrating his chest. “How did you think I learned sign language if I can’t read?!”

Toge shrugged, “Special grade voodoo? I don’t know.”

A long sigh preceeded silence, anticipating prompting Toge’s lips to curl in a mischievous smile just as Yuuta admitted, “...It was Gojo-sensei.”

“You’re lucky I love you too much to dump you.”

Yuuta’s hands flew to Toge’s shoulders in less than a second, spinning him around so Toge could face him.

“Love...?” Yuuta’s eyes were impossibly large, and Toge was pretty sure he could see the dolphins cresting the sapphire waves within his irises, dancing silvery-blue in the light of the sunrise.

Toge decided that he liked the blue of Yuuta’s eyes far more than the blue of the dawn, far more warm and enchanting and infinitely less lonely.

“Tuna mayo,” Toge smiled with his teeth, reveling the violent blush that rushed to Yuuta’s cheeks. Then, as careful as possible, curling his cursed energy around the words in an attempt to make them as weak as possible, he uttered, “I love you, Yuuta.”

“Oh my gosh, I love you, Toge! So much!” Yuuta gushed before Toge had even finished saying his name, fingers curling around Toge’s hands and bringing them to his chest, “I can’t believe you just said that so causally, I mean, I’ve been worrying over how to say it for months and AH! You’re bleeding! Okay, um, hold on, I’ll -”

Toge shut him up by slamming their lips together, the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth smearing over Yuuta’s lips, dripping onto his white uniform.

When they pulled apart, Yuuta gazed at him with lovesick eyes, murmuring, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“You look like you’re wearing lipstick.”

Yuuta lifted his finger to his mouth, blinking when it came away red with Toge’s blood.

And Toge laughed, his heart lighter than it had felt in weeks.

#yuuta x toge #toge x yuuta #toge inumaki x yuuta okkotsu #inuokko #ottoge #angst #hurt/comfort #drabble #drabble request #aspiringtrashpanda

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catofadifferentcolor · 1 month

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Assassin’s Creed: Revelations

"To say that Nothing is True, is to realize that foundations of society are fragile and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization. To say that Everything is Permitted is to understand that we are the architects of our own actions and we must live with their consequences, whether glorious or tragic."

As I’ve been reading a lot about the Crusades recently, it seemed a natural progression to try playing Assassin’s Creed for the first time since the franchise began a decade and a half ago.

And I honestly can't think of anything to say other than I am in love.

Don't get me wrong - I adored AC2 with an immediate, earnest passion that I've only felt a handful of other times in my life. I loved ACB as well - not in the same way, perhaps, but in the way someone might love what in retrospect felt a little like an extended AC2 DLC. But from the moment Assassin's Creed: Revelations started to the bitter end, I was in love.

Part of this was the opening, which hit hard on all the right emotional notes, and the first memory sequence, which was just enough tutorial to suit without twisting itself into knots to explain why the Master Assassin and Mentor of the Brotherhood needs a refresher. And when Ezio does have to learn new skills, it was handled pitch-perfectly with Yusuf acting like the beloved nephew teaching his favorite uncle how to use some newfangled bit of tech. (Ultimately, it was this addition of new skills which sets ACR above ACB rather than the leap forward in graphics, making everything new and exciting. Everything about ACR was new and exciting and fresh in a way most fourth installments of a series lack, and there was no end of squee during my play through.)

It has its faults - the Den Defense was something I never figured out, as somehow nothing I ever did seemed to work no matter how far ahead I was when the Templars started rolling siege equipment through the streets of Constantinople, which stretches credulity. Yusuf's death hurt and had an air of pointlessness to it that really twisted the knife when Ezio just addressed his replacement as Assassin instead of so much as a name. The switch of Eagle Vision from Y to LS on Xbox tripped me up for a good third of the game, and while I liked the upgraded Eagle Vision in general, it did take me longer than I'd like to realize you had to hover over each target with the cursor rather than automatically find the gold one.

And yet, I loved it. I loved it so much that I played the last few memory sequences at a crawl, for as desperate as I was to know what happened next, I didn't want it to be over. I didn't want my time with Ezio to end. His story arc was practically perfect in every way, as was the addition of Altair's later memories to reinforce everything Ezio was feeling and thinking, and the idea of giving him up hurt. It still hurts. There's a part of me that wants to go back and replay all the Ezio trilogy even as the rest of me wants to know what happens in AC3.

Hell, I've even dragged my heels writing this review because it felt too much like closure.

Ezio is one of those video game characters that comes around so rarely I honestly can't think of an adequate comparison. It's rare you get a character that accomplishes so much while still seeming human - trying, failing, making mistakes, trying again. On the face of it he should be a ridiculous stereotype, and yet he's anything but. His whole story arc of setting aside revenge, of realizing he will never have all the answers he seeks... it is beautiful and poignant and I'm more than a little in love with him. (And, no, it's not fair he somehow managed to get hotter for ACR, and there are things I didn't need to know about myself, thank you very much.)

Hell, I fell a little bit in love with all the characters we got more than five seconds with. Yusuf was bright and brilliant and deserved better. Clay was - well, I don't have words beyond wishing to have seen more of him. Sophia was someone I could honestly see Ezio retiring to be with. Altair was a delightful treat to see again. And Desmond... well, I really wish his memories were actually playable, as I got so nauseated trying to fall correctly at the end of the second one that I had to lay down in the dark for about an hour after.

That may honestly be my biggest complaint - Desmond's memories were something you could skip over. (Something you had to skip over if you wanted to keep your lunch.) I think if they had found a way to incorporate that into conversations with Clay on Animus Island instead of monologues in confusing first person settings without clear goals I would have had to give this game an 11 out of 10.

ACR is a game I came out of with a lot of feels, nearly all of them positive. It was a fun game that was just challenging enough to feel like completing parts of it was an accomplishment without the utter frustration that came from Leonardo's flying machine in AC2 and ACB. As sad as I am to give up Ezio, it was a worthwhile conclusion to his story, and now that I've had nearly a week to mourn I'm ready to move on to AC3. But I'll definitely be coming back to replay this one. 5 out of 5 stars, cannot recommend enough.

#aadarshinah plays #game reviews #assassin's creed #assassin's creed revelations #ac #acr #ezio trilogy #ezio auditore #desmond miles #video games #ubisoft

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rametarin · 1 year

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My political position makes me hate patterns pathologic to mainstream and sub-cultures of the conventional “left” and “right.”

Take for example the, “Rolling Coalers.”

You could find other ways to stunt on the sort of disingenuous bleeding hearts that want to take automobiles and freedom of movement away from us, and instead you choose to fart extra soot from your tailpipe.

You could rebel against their desires to restrain and choke manufacturing and industry of automobiles by using parabolic mirrors to redirect sunlight and get enough heat energy to melt car parts and mold the steel and other alloys to, without carbon, create vehicles without burning a single gram of coal or natural gas or any other kind of fossil fuel.

You could do donuts driving something like a methanol consuming engine and peel out on tires that are chemically formulated to not be the carcinogenic pollutants of conventional tires, effectively utilizing a system of fuel that removes more carbon and carcinogens and pollutants from our atmosphere than it produces for a net LOSS in environmental harm.

And instead you reinforce the shitty view they have of the worst of the worst types and attribute them to more regular people, thus reinforcing this horrible worldview that all X people are just a degree of separation from some sort of plutocratic Nazi regime, making it even EASIER for offended and disgusted kids to dive head over heels into the socially reinforced and noxious ideas they’re fed from the orthodoxy of public schools and ultra-left humanities departments.

Holy fucking shit I hate you and your thoughtlessness. Instead of taking pride in doing the thing they claim is a problem and then denying climate change, own it and rend their complaints nullified. Flip the script. Have your cake and eat it, too. There are perfectly chemically copacetic methods and strategies to continue safely using fossil fuels to compliment and supplement renewable energy that are entirely viable and respectable, and instead of champion those, you just rev a soot making engine to go, “You can’t tell me what to do.” Right before that stupid bullshit results in more kids growing up, you making it easy for far-left to paint you as happy, world polluting Nazis and then that results in voters and politicians deciding maybe you should be taxed an extra 25% a year to own a car because “they pollute.”

Fuck you you are the worst. You are making the problem worse by making it easier for young, impressionable people to think the world is as bad as the fearmongerers and propagandists are saying and I loathe you for it.

With so many developments in the world of catalytic converters and improvements in mitigating particulate emissions and recycling/renewing stuff, that you COULD be using to argue fossil fuels can still be valid, you choose.. rolling coal and bragging about emissions.

You’re doing their work for them and it’s not winning what you want many supporters. You are in fact hurting those that like personal autonomy and vehicles and the economic/financial freedom to own them without the braying masses stupidly voting against their own self-interests to get rid of them, because some assholes want everybody limited exclusively to public transportation. You are relying on this world model that says they can be bullied or embarrassed out and shoved aside by sheer numbers and that just simply isn’t the world anymore where the inertia of population suppresses those things they want.

Demonstrating yourself to be the boogyman they fear only serves their cause to legislate you out of validity by appealing to the ignorant that don’t know you’re just some moron, not a sweeping, growing subculture. And yet another reason to hate the sort of person that fancies themselves a Pick Up Artist or defines themselves as an “alpha male”, despite also despising the simplistic and slanted concept of “toxic masculinity” in sociological circles.

Holy shit I hate these oppositional social trends so much.

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