#and there are parts to his characterization that are missing and KEY!!

[etaleah]

I’ve been thinking a lot about Shadow’s characterizations in the Project: Shadow fan film, SA2, Archie, Heroes, ‘06, Prime, and Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog and why they’re all considered among the best. And I’ve been thinking about his characterizations in IDW and Boom, how they’re considered among the worst, and how much they clash with the other portrayals. I think I’ve hit upon the number one quality that Shadow needs to have to be written well.

Loyalty.

I’ll explain below the cut.

The best Shadow is one who is loyal to someone or something. Maybe he’s not always loyal to the right someone or something, but he is loyal nonetheless. It’s a core part of his character. He is ride or die to the very end for whatever friend or cause he cares about. Shadow is always ready to kill or be killed for whatever or whoever matters to him most; it’s what sets him apart from the others. The others have limits on their loyalty. Sonic will help you out, but he’s not gonna kill a man for you. Shadow will. He doesn’t have that limit. If you are Shadow’s friend and you need him to kill for you, he will do it. Period.

Here’s a recap of Shadow’s loyalty:

In SA2 and the fan film, it’s to Maria, and to a lesser extent, Gerald.

In Heroes and ‘06, it’s to Team Dark.

In Archie, it’s to Team Dark, Hope Kintobor, and Commander Tower. Sometimes it’s even to his own values like when he goes against Rouge to help Blaze in Treasure Team Tango.

In Sonic X, it’s to Maria and later Molly. Maybe even to the universe, given that he’s ready to kill Cosmo to save it.

In Prime, it’s to Green Hill. And later on, Shadow is also loyal to Sonic despite the latter driving him crazy.

In Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog, it’s to Amy.

And in his own game, Shadow can be loyal to Maria, Sonic and friends, Eggman (up to a point), Black Doom, or even Earth itself. Not all of those folks are worth his loyalty, but the fact is that Shadow still cares about fighting by their side. That key element of his personality remains.

And that’s what’s missing in Boom and IDW. Because in those, he isn’t loyal to anything. He isn’t ride or die for anyone. At least, not that we can tell. When you remove Shadow’s faithfulness to those he loves, you remove a lot of what makes him who he is and all that’s left is an edgy aesthetic that soon wears out its welcome because there isn’t anything to supplement it. And this is made worse by the fact that they’re never allowed to bring up or expand his backstory, so they can’t ever talk about why he’s like this.

I guess you could make the argument that Shadow is loyal to the world in IDW since he helps save it a few times, but he’s so mean and heartless to everyone in the world that it feels less like he’s fighting to protect other people and more like he’s just trying to save his own house so he still has a place to live. I mean, if he won’t help Rouge when she’s been kidnapped by Starline and he won’t help Omega when the latter has been smashed to bits and he won’t help the Chao get out of their cage and he actually has to be talked into saving a village from an avalanche and he seems to really dislike/be annoyed by everyone he comes into contact with…what exactly is he saving the Earth for?? It can’t be for the people living in it. He hates them. He doesn’t care if they need his help. So the only conclusion I can draw is that he’s just doing it to save his own skin. The only person Shadow shows even the slightest bit of loyalty to is himself.

And that makes him unrecognizable from the Shadow we know and love.

His loyalty is his greatest virtue, even when it’s misguided. Let him keep it.

#sth #shadow the hedgehog #shadow meta #my thoughts #sonic the hedgehog #maria robotnik #space colony ark #sonic games #sonic comics #sonic idw #sonic archie #sonic prime #sonic 06 #team dark #project: shadow fan film

[sweetvoidstuff]

Bittersweet II Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of a nightmarish struggle for survival, strained bonds and lost memories characterize the heartbreaking exchange between you and Hyun Su, where a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between shared experiences unfolds, leaving a lingering sense of loss as you face an uncertain future together.

the first part, kinda ~~~~~ the next part, kinda

Masterlist

~~~~~

The last few hours unfolded as a nightmarish chapter in the ongoing struggle for survival. Your group of survivors had been taken hostage, forced to fight off scavengers seeking harm. The struggle for survival had strained your bonds, particularly the delicate balance after Ui Myeong's inclusion, triggering an unspoken personal turmoil with Hyun Su and the others but also between you two.

After your decisive move to aid the vent lizard monster, the atmosphere grew more strained. Pushing past Hyun Su, you rushed to aid the vent lizard monster, recognizing the fear it instilled in others, your determination to buy time for the creature clashed with escalating threats. Hyun Su and Ui Myeong had disappeared during the chaos, leaving you with a lingering regret of missing the chance to talk to Hyun Su once more. You had seen  his face as the others tried to kill the jelly monster.

Returning to the common area, you collaborated with fellow survivors, sealing the entrance in a desperate attempt to ward off hostile monster attacks and create a brief illusion of security for the night. The atmosphere remained charged with anxiety and uncertainty, survivors grappling with the aftermath of relentless assaults and the toll it took on their collective psyche.

Sang-wook's sudden dash with Yu-Ri on his back disrupted the makeshift sanctuary. Concern etched on your face, you inquired about the situation, opening a dialogue with Sang-wook to understand the urgency of their escape plan. His brief words revealed the desperate need for a refill of Yu-Ri's asthma spray, and with a sense of urgency, he handed you the car keys. Taking charge, you sprinted towards the abandoned vehicle, only to be abruptly blocked by a sudden force, sending you flying, disoriented, and confused as you overheard the end of their conversation.

"Does it matter? We won't be here. I will go with you," Hyun Su declared, bewildering you as you tried to pierce together the events that unfolded amidst the chaos. The urgency of the situation and the underlying tension left you grappling with the unknown.

Confusion reigned as you attempted to convey the urgency of Yu-Ri's situation, but Hyun Su's unfamiliar coldness dismissed your concerns as you came back up to your feed. The following sequence of events played out in slow motion, culminating in a moment of shock as Ui-Myeong aimed the gun at the departing duo, gunfire echoed, and Hyun Soo's anguished scream reverberated.

As Ui Myeong redirected the gun toward you, a sudden push threw you into a wall, pain radiating through your body, ultimately knocking you out. The chaos intensified with gunshots and screams, leaving the fate of Hyun Su and the others hanging in uncertainty.

Upon regaining consciousness, the landscape had changed once again. Sang-wook and Yu-Ri and even Mister Han were gone, leaving a void in the group dynamics. Hyun Su stood among the survivors, his memories wiped clean. Ui Myeong gone. The weight of the day's losses threatened to bring forth tears that remained elusive.

Stepping closer to Hyun Su, despite the heaviness that lingered in the air, you extended a hesitant hand, your fingers brushing against his arm as if seeking an anchor in the disarray that had become your reality. His eyes, a canvas of confusion, held a spark of recognition that flickered and faded like a distant star.

"You don't remember..." you began, the words caught in your throat as you gazed into the depths of his bewildered eyes. It was a plea, an attempt to bridge the gap between the shared experiences that seemed to be slipping away from him.

His expression softened, an acknowledgment of the void he couldn't fill. "Thank you for saving me again," you continued, the gratitude woven with a tinge of sorrow, sitting next to him. Every syllable carried the weight of moments that seemed destined to be forgotten.

A somber silence hung between you, punctuated only by the echoes of the distant hum of the shelter's generator. In that silence, you found the courage to address the unspoken pain that lingered between you and Hyun Su.

"I don't remember saving you. Or you," he confessed, his voice carrying the weight of an apology he couldn't fully understand.

The admission cut deep, like a wound that refused to heal. In that moment, you chose not to dwell on the fragments lost in the recesses of his mind but to weave new threads of connection. "It doesn't matter," you whispered, your voice a gentle reassurance that sought to bridge the gap. "I will always remember you."

Hyun Su's gaze faltered, self-doubt clouding his eyes. "Isn't it inconvenient for me to be here? Shouldn't you be afraid like the others?" he questioned, baring the vulnerability that lingered beneath the surface.

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the fractures in his memories and the trust that seemed to be slipping away. With a steadying breath, you addressed the uncertainty that loomed. "We've had this conversation before," you said, your eyes meeting his with unwavering sincerity.

You extended your hand like so many times before, a silent plea for him to hold on, to grasp the hand you were offering. His gaze didn't meet yours, the unspoken invitation hanging in the somber atmosphere. His eyes, filled with uncertainty, locked onto your hand, and you hesitated, uncertain if he would recognize the gesture.

 He didn´t. Uncreatin looking at your hand. In an act of boldness and with embarrassingly red cheeks, you gripped his hand, holding it tight. His confusion reflected in his expression, you held his gaze and, with a deep breath, spoke softly, "I trust you, Hyun Su." The words lingered in the air, a testament to the connection that surpassed the boundaries of fleeting recollections.

"With or without your memories, I trust you."

His gaze met yours, and you saw a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, as if sensing the depth of your unspoken pledge. A fleeting smile graced Hyun Su's lips, a fragile bridge between the past and the uncertain present.

In that moment, you chose to focus on the small victories, finding solace in the fragments that remained. The weight of uncertainty lingered, but the warmth of the connection you sought to rebuild offered a glimmer of hope in the aftermath of the day's turmoil.

Unbeknownst to you, this heartfelt exchange marked the last time you would speak with Hyun Su for a very long time.

#cha hyun su x reader #sweet home netflix #sweet home x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyun soo x reader #cha hyunsu #sweet home #sweet home imagines #kdrama #song kang #cha hyun su #cha hyunsoo #sweet home 2 #hyun su #hyun soo

[posallys]

ok 1 ur desktop theme is GORG and 2 i need (if u wanna) ur thoughts about the show (or show sally in gen bc ur the only one i trust with her)

thank you!! i was actually thinking about updating it but maybe i wont 🤭🤭 and i have a lot of thoughts about the show except none only very few of them are good and i will be crucified by the 13-year-olds

im going to tell you anyway.

i will start with something i like....percy being angry. like yes give me the anger of a 12 year old who feels utterly alone in the world and doesn't understand (or does and it makes him more angry)

the fight scenes are dog shit. the only kind of cool one was in the arch but it was only cool because of percy doing the bait and switch and falling through the arch...the fights are bland boring sucky whatever other synonym you wanna use

uhhhhh sally jackson is not and would never be sitting in the rain pining of the god she told to leave....and especially not to teen pop...if she WERE going to act like a 16 year old and do the pining thing it would be to fucking like...billy joel and ricky martin and donny hathaway and stuff llike that okay...

i will preface this by saying that yes i understand that talking back to an abuser the way sally does in ep 1 doesn't make the abuse less abusive....however i DO not like the fact that that scene explicitly goes against sally characterization in the books....i am not digging my book out atm but the part where percy is like "my mother has never raised her voice or said an unkind word to anyone"....me thinks the writers all read the books 10 years ago and are going off of memory alone + or their brains are so clouded by the obsessive Big Screen Need to make women a badass girlboss slay queen i fucking hate it here

LET ANNABETH BE SILLY AND FUNNY AND CUTE AND CRY AND NOT BE AN ADULT THANK YOU....hated that they made annabeth the one to realize that it was medusa and not grover...give me back grover having to wrangle percy and annabeth into backpack leashes just to keep them on task/stop them from wandering off...book trio i miss you

i absolutely ADORE leah, walker, and aryan though the three of them are so so perfect, A+ casting no notes couldn't have done it better myself. if it weren't for the three of them i would have zero hope for the show i cannot lie...they're carrying. without them it's just..bad.

the pacing???? bad.

why did we waste half of the 4th ep on the train with echidna...stupid dumb pointless i hate it here

i do like the whole not all monsters are monsters and the gods aren't inherently good just because they're gods thing they've got going on though...very inch resting...silently hoping that they do a complete 180 and have percy side with luke and redo the series from there because that would be iconic as fuck <3 a girl can dream because at least then i could take the show at face value and not take 80 health damage every time they mess up a key part of the books...im at -29834 heath rn.

where was the time at chb before the quest??? the oh so important vital scene where luke teaches percy to sword fight???? like BRO that's soooooooooooo important to ME how could you get rid of that

not having annabeth show percy around camp

additionally, not having annabeth feed him the nectar and ambrosia, WHICH BY THE WAY they haven't even mentioned in the show yet...plot armor gone rip

not the fredrick chase sympathy while simultaniously blaming the woman...........rick when i get my hands on you...

annabeth having to EARN thalia's love??? absolutely not probably one of their biggest fuck ups fr.

the scene where sally is talking about Poseidon to percy...i do not like it sam i am. bad. not wistful enough not longing enough not sad enough not gut wrenching enough...also not completely here for sally telling percy that his dad was a god because....sallys whole thing was NOT telling him in order to keep him safe...i know they changed it in the show so sally knew he was going to camp immediately but that does not mean i have to like it

the scene with sally and percy in the pool. i hated everything about that. sally would never talk to percy like that never talk to him about money never make it seem embarassing NOT TO MENTION that percy simply wasn't scared of the water. that's stupid as fuck. theres a part in the book where percy literally says being by the water calms both him and his mom like...come the fuck on just admit you can't fucking read or at least didn't read the book.

sally annabeth get behind me so they cant hurt you anymore

i did loveeeee percy praying to sally though...absoutely insane and true of them. also the "I AM SALLY JACKSON'S SON" yesss baby you tell them about your mommy!!!!!!

them making athena moa level bad in tlt is quite interesting. setting up annabeth siding with percy pretty well.

also the whole impertinence thing over medusa's head was weird to me. when annabeth first said that i had immediately thought that annabeth's impertinence was telling percy to pray to poseidon IN ATHENA'S TEMPLE bc that made much more sense to me...but whatever

the annabeth/medusa parallel is intriguing at the very least

the underwater scene with the neraid was cool even though i hated the parallel to the pool scene w/ sally.

the dumbass pinecone fate line. 0/10 did you read the book? did you pay attention to how empathetic and reflective percy was when he found out about thalia?

honestly....i think disney was just the wrong place to go with this show because it's like what...pg? it should be pg 13 and should have more... sustenance.

this medusa was so cool though. which we could've seen a fight.

i need to know how many women are in the writer's room though...because It Does Not Look Good. funny how the characters that they're fucking up are all women....crazy. weird. totally coincidental.

are we just not going to talk about the vitality and pressure of getting the bolt back on time? where is the inherent inevitable danger, the suspense, the fear of not accomplishing a seemingly impossible talk looming over everything

this is 10000% not all of my thoughts but im not going to rewatch in order to collect them all so this is what you get xoxox

#taylor answers #ask tag #anon #pjo tv #pjo tv crit #pjo show #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

Stripped Bare (Severen x f!reader)

Summary: After your least favorite person on the planet manages to singlehandedly ruin your night, you find yourself waiting out the timer on a washing machine in the dusty laundromat of a lonely desert hotel. But the night is still young and yields some . . . unexpected results.

Notes: Ugh . . . this is like 17.7k words. Yeah, this really got away from me. Funny after literal months of struggling to write that a gritty possum of a man from an obscure 1987 vampire film would be the one to light a fire under my ass. But this is literally just word vomit and some porn.

Warnings: This is an 18+ post, so kindly go somewhere else if you're underage. Mentions of cannon typical violence, death, blood is referenced an obscene number of times, the reader is lowkey a bitch (but it is a very intentional characterization), both Severen and the reader are absolute dumbasses, feelings realization, fluff, blood drinking, they're both switches, like one spank, oral sex (f! receiving), rough sex. Lemme know if I missed anything!

This is so far the last part of an ongoing series but can be read as a standalone. Master List.

The noise was almost unbearable. The high pitched repetitive metallic squeal of a machine on its last leg. An announcement of its impending departure, a final outcry, a plea for help maybe. A damned migraine is what it is. 

You can't help the glare that you shoot it out of the corner of your eyes. That damn fan. Pathetically whining in the corner of the room while the head rotates on its stand, leisurely pivoting back and forth like it's not shrieking like nails on a chalk board. The colorful plastic array of tassels tied to the grill of the fan wave in the air that it tiredly spits out, sunny yellow, hot pink, a calm blue. All otherwise pretty colors that almost seem jarring underneath the sickly light that the old fluorescents cast. There's a bunch of dead flies stuck in the lights. Their poor withered bodies lie on the cloudy glass, almost as if on display. 

There's about a million other ways you would like to be spending your night. Perhaps strolling down an isolated street, peeking into the windows of people's houses from the sidewalk, smiling at or judging their choice of entertainment broadcasted from their television (it's still shocking to you the number of people that leave their curtains open) finally enjoying a moment to yourself, or maybe you could be at the local bar - what was it? The Oasis? . . . No. The Mirage. Yeah, that's it. One of the rare few bars that hasn't been desecrated and set alight by the Hooker clan. 

Your unfortunate victims are the ones that had supplied your group with the key to your current place of rest. The room has a strange beach motif. Which is odd because you're in the middle of the New Mexico desert and nowhere near the ocean. 

They had also supplied you with the keys to their RV which Severen had fished out the husband's back pocket before promptly dropping his limp body on the floor. 

You could be out right now. Enjoying the night, the cool air that follows the darkness in the desert. You could be sitting at the bar right now sipping on a drink that you admittedly don't have much of a taste for anymore, but you still get a buzz. Maybe you would have met a cute local by now if this hole-in-the wall town actually has any good-looking men. Not that you have your hopes up based off of the little settlements that Jesse or Diamondback usually stick to. Random, quaint towns that just happen to dot the backcountry routes you take. Unimportant, small, places that no one ever notices. That's why they're so great for feeding. No one pays attention to a body or two, or dozen or even a bar going up in flames in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. 

Again - great for feeding. But not fucking. 

The people who populate these places or typically retirees in some facet of the word. Veterans of war, old ranchers and farmers, strung out criminals running from the law, or simply quiet people trying to escape the stress and noise of the city. But often times people around your age have already fled, ran off to greener pastures to make a life for themselves that doesn't involve the bored scrutiny that comes with tiny settlements or the same old routine of working at the local mechanics shop or building the same old fences. 

Maybe that's why Mae snatched up Caleb when she had the chance.  

Probably the first pretty face she's seen in a while. Plus, he has all of his teeth. 

You should be out there drinking, flirting and having fun. Pretending you're still fucking normal. And even if you didn't find some guy to take home (well not home. The bathroom or alley way is more than likely) at least you could enjoy yourself and unwind. 

But instead, you're here at 3 a.m. at night sitting on a hard plastic chair in the motels adjacent laundromat listening to that shitty fan sputter and squeak and the low churning of the wash machine. All because a certain cowboy decided that he has the manners and discipline of a five-year-old. 

Ever since crossing over you've done your best not to step on anyone's toes especially when it comes to the act of feeding. They clearly had a system for it, no matter how rudimentary it is. Structure in chaos or whatever.  Clear rules to follow. Who you prey on, where, when. But the act of feeding itself? They never seemed to have a fear of leaving evidence. Blood, carnage, panic. It all came hand in hand with feeding. Any leftover traces would be burned to a crisp anyway. So why worry about how messy you were? 

But you did. Perhaps it was something you'd grow out of with the coming years. Why worry about tedious things like blood when you have eternity stretching out in front of you like an unpaved road? There are bigger things to worry about. 

But it's also about the hedonism. The blood, the hunger, the adrenaline, the heady scent of fear in the air while your prey looks down at you like a scared animal. They all got off on it.

And despite all of your new instincts yelling at you to drown yourself in the warm red, to lick it off of the floor like an animal without a conscious you've always managed to ignore it. Maybe you were just trying to hold onto whatever shred of human ideals you have left but leaving the scene of the crime drenched in blood never felt right. It was bitter. It was betrayal.

 The only time you truly let go of your inhibitions was the first time you truly fed. After holding yourself back from these alien instincts, these horrid dangerous thoughts and cravings, you caved. After three grueling days of ignoring the call, despite Caleb's words of encouragement (even though they came from a place of understanding) and clenching your jaw shut whenever Severen tried to pry your mouth open and spit his blood into your mouth you held back. Until you couldn't anymore. 

Despite the reality check that comes with being soaked in blood you also can't stand to deal with the mess. Unfortunately, as a bunch of traveling criminal vagabonds bathing can be few and far between, something that took a while to accept. Truck stops, rivers and stolen motel rooms serving as the only way to shower. So, you do your best to keep as clean as possible, often stealing a pack of baby wipes if you happen across a gas station that has them in stock or a 24-hour grocery store.  

You don't like the mess and the feelings that comes with it. It's easy to ignore your lost humanity when you're under the haze of hunger, the temptation of feeding, but when the drunken hunger wears off and your left with the startling clarity that you aren't exactly you anymore. You don't need any reminders. The others knew about your boundary. They respected it even if they didn't understand it. Apart from maybe Caleb or Mae. It was a line they didn't cross no matter how excited or caught up in the moment they were. 

Well, all except for Severen. Of course. 

The reason why you're washing clothes in the middle of the fucking night when you should be out enjoying yourself. Maybe you should take some of the blame for having expectations of a dog in a man's body. You would think that being alive since the 1800s would give you plenty of time to develop some manners. Who are you kidding, he wouldn't know a boundary if it sat on his face. It's your fault for expecting so much of him. 

Wait - no, no, it's definitely his fault. He knows how much you hate all the blood. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think that he waited to tear into the poor husband's throat just as you were passing by. If the way that he looked at you was anything to go by, you were correct in that assumption. 

He had made eye contact with you while his teeth sunk into the man's flesh, the crystal blue was electric with a depraved sort of glee. The corners of his bloody lips were perked up around the hold of his victim's throat, like he was privy to a joke that you weren't.  

When he tore into the artery the blood had splattered across the interior of the RV like something out of a low budget B rated horror film. It coated the fake wooden walls and the beige cloth seats. It also splattered over you. Staining your shirt and jeans. You had frozen, arms raised and tense in the air while you fought between the kneejerk reactions of either punching him or simply walking away. Gasping on oxygen that you really didn't need anymore, muscle shaking with restrained anger all while he chuckled and licked at the spurting gash. He looked so proud of himself. Truly the cat that got the cream. Smirking underneath a layer of haunting red dripping from his chin in heavy rivulets.

You cleaned what you could from yourself in the mobile home's compact bathroom, wiping the blood from your skin as best as you could with the roll of toilette paper provided on the boarder of the tiny sink, unable to find any washcloths or towels inside the restroom cabinets. Trying to forget the way that his eyes had gleamed at you in a sadistic shade of cerulean, the glitter of crimson across his cheeks and nose. His lethal smirk, all sharp teeth and bad intentions. Or the way that he always licks his lips clean after a kill- 

Take advantage of patterns like polka dots, rhombuses, squares and stripes to liven up your home - God, like you gave a shit about any of this stuff. You clutch the sides of the magazine tighter threatening to crumple up the pages, hard enough for the ends of your nails to leave crescent shaped intendents on the glazed sheets of paper.  The wash machine is still thrumming away, and the fan is squealing in the corner like a wounded pig but what's really getting you is the bastard behind a row of washing machines clinging to a laundry cart like it's an amusement park ride, launching himself down the aisle over and over again. Lurching down across the pale tiles until he meets the wall of dryers and pushing himself off in the opposite direction until he meets the same fate. Over and over again. Like that fucking fan. 

It really is a concept that you still haven't fully grasped onto. That he is the reason that your life isn't the same. That you'll never be able to go back to the person that you were before.  You couldn't let go of this life. Even if you wanted to. And he's why. Someone you used to fear. That you had looked upon with cold trepidation. He was unpredictable, inhumane, deadly. Still is of course but having insights to all of his little quirks has made him human in a way. Sort of funny considering that you've seen him rip out a man's liver with his bare hands and laugh at the carnage. 

But behind the bravado and rough jagged edges there's tiny little cracks in the armor that could almost make him endearing if he didn't have the personality of sweltering garbage cooking in the summer sun. 

The way he minutely cringes at the sound of pop music on the radio his eyebrows furrowing and lips curling like he ate something sour, usually followed by a wise quip; how he prefers the blood of someone who's in the noon of their life, not too sweet but not too aged; how he hates the taste of tequila and whiskey specifically; his extreme sensitivity to synthetic fragrances like scented candles and colognes. You all have more heightened senses now, but he seems to struggle with it the most often dramatically retching like he's going for an Oscar whenever he feeds from a person with a heavy aftershave or perfume.

He does still know some Dutch despite it being incredibly underutilized. Having no one to talk to in his parents' native language you've caught him muttering to himself in the secondary tongue. You once found him reading a book in the language and Severen never reads. You assume it's all in an effort to hold onto that tiny piece of his past despite how much he shit talks the fact that he used to be human. You were there when he had crossed paths with an old trucker in a grimy dive bar. Seen the way that he perked up when he caught hint of the mans accented English. You watched from the pool table, marveling at the sight in between the shots you took at the striped pool balls. You don't know if you've ever seen him so . . . casual? Seated across the from the lithe greying man, laughing at the trucker's jokes (you assumed they were jokes but you have no way of knowing for sure), the pair rambling back in forth in Dutch. There was a lively twinkling look in Severen's eyes. A young sort of excitement that you hadn't seen from him before. Not the sadistic violet sort of excitement but a sort of relieved childlike wonder. 

He did end up eating the man of course, but it was still sweet to see him in such a way. 

There's also his hatred for cops which is admittedly telegraphed by the number of badges stuck to the breasts of his jacket, but you've also gathered that the hatred was personal. And based of the tiny context clues that Jesse has given offhand, and little comments here and there from Severen, you've figured that a sheriff or marshal (or several) may have played a critical role in his human life. You had mentioned it once to him before, a mindless thought that had slipped your tongue and based off of the dangerous way that his body had tensed you had figured yourself right. 

But it still shocks you that this man is the cause of your new life. The man rolling down the aisle on a cart like a bored child, humming a choppy unrecognizable tune underneath his breath, sometimes outright shouting at random intervals. 

"Uh, why are you here?" Your voice cracks through the background noise like an indifferent whip. The fan, the washer, the dim whine of the laundry carts singular protesting wheel. You clutch the Better Homes magazine in your hands tighter as soon as you register your own question. Like a lifeline. You try and focus on the pale hum of the washing machine, the distant pulsating sound of the sun that's halfway across the globe, the troubling squeal of the fan but none - not even the sound of that heinous fan compared to the dull grind of the cart's wheels spinning slower and slower. Losing momentum one second at a time until it meets a complete dead stop in the middle of the aisle. His singing cuts off all together. 

You tear your gaze up from a paragraph declaring that baby pink was the way to go for your bathroom and regretfully gaze up for the pages and past the row of washers to see leather clad shoulders and a head of dark hair. 

He tilts his head down a bit lowering it just enough to peer at you from over his dark shades and fixes you with a stare. He's still clutching onto the bars of the linen carts hanging line. The nasty yellow fluorescents are shading flecks of gold onto his hair and blood still stains his wife beater. 

Thank God there aren't any security cameras in this place. 

That sadistic glint flickers across his face. That look he gets when he's got prey in his sights. A poor soul that doesn't realize the scope of the situation that they're in. 

It immediately sets you on edge. 

"Unfortunately, the girl I turned is a pussy who doesn't know how to enjoy a meal, " he taunts, gripping the cart before shoving it off into the nearby wall of dryers with a bang. Loud enough that you hope the neighboring rooms don't hear and complain. "Imagine that" he snarks, nudging his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. 

You can't help the scoff that escapes you plopping the magazine on the out of place mini coffee table next to your seat, a few sprinkles of dust shooting into the air from the impact. 

"Well unfortunately I'm here because a certain idiot I know has no manners, " you snap, nails digging into the palms of your hands. " And that wasn't an answer to my question." 

He's entirely still for a moment like a predator assessing a wounded coyote in its path, head cocked and contemplating. But despite the once over he's still smiling. Calm collected and cocky. Your least favorite version of Severen- not that there's any other version. 

"Since your still so timid and inept I worry about leavin' ya on your own, ya know. Someone might take a bite out of ya. " He chuckles and scratches at the tip of his nose. " Ya know.  Like I did." 

You nearly snarl at that little taunt having to physically restrain yourself from rising to the jab. And he knows it too. Licking at his chaps like a dog with a bone. But it's all bullshit and that's exactly his game. Since when did he give a shit about what you did? Ever since he turned you, he's constantly seesawed between emotions in a way that gives you whiplash. The most consistent he's ever been, was when he had first turned you. All of the interest that he had showed in you seemed to have come from a place of curiosity and personal entertainment rather than the genuine desire to help you learn your new, forced place in the world. You understand that it was an accident, something that neither of you had wanted but considering that he had agreed to take you in upon realizing that you'd turned your sympathy for him tends to fall short. 

He had been unwavering and aggressive in his attempts to get you to feed. Often tearing into the throat of victims himself and at times even his own wrist to take the blood into his mouth so that he could try and force feed you like some deranged mother bird. And you'd clench your jaw together with enough force that you'd worry that your teeth would break. And he would tear away from you like he'd combust if he stared at you for a second longer spewing swears and curses that would make a convict blush. 

It was often Caleb who would do his best to guide you with a gentle nudge. Not a desperate shove like Severen. He would come to you from a place of understanding. Being the most recently turned apart from yourself, his conversations with you came from a place of understanding. He would occasionally seach you out, like on the night uptop a travel trailer where you sat staring up into the void of darkness and the twinkling dots of light above like it might give you an answer if you searched hard enough. He had smiled briefly at the sky before turning to face you, who had yet to return the gesture but watched him from your peripheral vision. He went on to explain that Severen was the least understanding of the group - no shit - but it came from the fact that he simply couldn't relate. From what Caleb had heard of Severen's past, he had left his human life behind and accepted eternity with open armed enthusiasm. 

Maybe it wasn't Severen's fault for not understanding your struggle, but it certain wasn't your fault for not accepting your fate with the apparent joy that he had. To turn your back on yourself and the family you had waiting for you. Who you hoped was still waiting for you.  

"Jus' be careful, " Caleb had warned softly. " The hunger, I mean. It becomes unbearable. You think it's bad now. " He looked down at your hands shaking weakly in your lap, jittering from fatigue and the empty pit in your stomach. " But soon it'll feel like all you are is hunger. You won't know where you begin and where it ends. And it'll make you dangerous. " 

You should have listened. Maybe then you wouldn't have found yourself standing over the lifeless of a body of an innocent woman that you had apparently torn into like a mindless animal. Lost, alone and covered in blood. 

Severen has always used that horrid night in Texas as a reason to get you to feed. "At least know you can choose who ya kill, instead of pouncing on every poor fucker who crosses your path like a wildcat. " He's correct of course. That if you force yourself to drink every night, you'll keep the clarity to properly choose a target. But that's what angers you the most. That he's right. That if you had just listened to him and fed when he told you to that the innocent woman who just wanted to help. That in your attempt to keep your humanity, you had lost a piece of it. 

After the incident, your relationship with Severen became . . . odd. Not to say that it wasn't before. You've always been oil and water, but some of the trepidation he had previously felt for seemed to have thawed after you had succumbed to your urges and successfully fed. Though he still can't seem to decide where you sit with him. Flipflopping between being a sarcastic cold bully to a clingy and overprotective ass, regularly trying to join you on your hunts despite having proven time and time again that there's no longer a reason to suspect you of fleeing. He always tries to weasel himself in between you and your targeted victim for the night. Barreling in with the subtly of a bull, usually taunting the men into an unnecessary altercation just so he has an excuse to swing on them and steal your kill for himself. "They woulda been too much trouble for ya anyway, babycakes."

That's another one, all of the horrid, mocking pet names: sweetheart, sugar, honey, spitfire, wildcat, an obscene usage of baby. And kitten. All a means to get under your skin. 

It seems that you have blessing of dealing with clingy Severen tonight. What joy.  The disbelieving laugh that leaves you is unrestrained, purposeful even. You thread your fingers together, turning your head to admire the soda vending machine across from you, suddenly finding the array of soft drinks fascinating. 

"Oh, I think I can handle myself now, " you plaster a fake smile on your face reaching for the recently abandoned magazine. After all you still haven't figured out what a trendy kitchen from 1980 looks like. 

Then he's coming around the row of washers, all black leather, blood and self-assured swagger. Stupid, stupid man. You pick up the magazine anyway flipping to a random page - page 11 it seems - and based off of the paragraph and the picture that the text floats over in a white box it seems to be talking about a Mexican casserole. You can't even eat that. Would that even be good even if you could? 

Here's a way to spice up your casserole- The magazine is suddenly ripped from your hands and tossed across the room plopping on the floor like discarded clothing and suddenly your face to face with dark pants and a silver belt buckle glinting in the light. 

Then fingers with red still staining their tips and blood crusted underneath the nails are nudging the point of your chin up, directing your gaze upwards until you see his smirking face. Sharp teeth and danger. 

"Are ya sure?" He asks. And despite the condescending tone you can't help the slight nod that you give, catching yourself but it's too late. He's already caught the complacent gesture grinning and nodding alone with you. " I worry about ya baby. All still reluctant and helpless. " And then his bloodied thumb is skirting across your bottom lip, catching on the sensitive skin, dragging the scent of his victim's blood across like a lip balm. 

You catch yourself leaning into him then gasping at the clarity and clearing your throat. The humility skirts through you like a zap of electricity. It's like being doused with a bucket of cold water. What the hell was that? 

"I'll survive," you snap jerking your head back out of his grasp despite the tingling where he had his hand. You clear you throat loudly, further breaking the light fog that has invaded your brain. And like the ringing of a bell the churning of the washing machine rapidly declines until it's dead silent and the analogue digits are down to 0.  Finally. All of that for a single pair of clothes. 

You hop to your feet and skirt past Severen as easily as possible without touching him, lifting the lid of the machine and retrieving the sopping set of clothes. It always hits you like a ton of bricks to see what little you have now in terms of material things. A tight old T-shirt, a pair of jeans, a bomber jacket and a dreadfully work bra. You'll definitely have to pick up another one next time you get to another store. This all you have. Just the clothes on your back. Well, that and the backpack full of stolen perfume and little chachkis in the motel room. And the baggy sweatpants and sweater that you had to steal from the overhang cabinet of your recent victims RV but that's beside the point.  

You grab the clothes from the barrel of the washer and toss them into a neighboring dyer, filling the horizontal slot with 75 cents from your pocket and pressing in the settings before slamming the glass door shut. Anything to ignore the heavy presence standing behind you. Which is about as ignorable as a gun going off or a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse, but you've become desensitized to a lot these past couple of months. Almost a year. It will have been a year in August. 

" I know you think I'm prissy, " you huff without turning around, instead glaring at the muted reflection of him the pane of the dryer. " But unlike you I actually like to be clean instead of walking around in filth for days on end." You finally pivot on your heels meeting his amused gaze with your glare before slipping past and taking your place back on your seat, crossing your legs. "Anyways, shouldn't you be out harassing and seducing some poor sap?" 

 His head cocks loosely, practically flopping onto the shoulder underneath it. His eyebrows perk up from behind his sunglasses just a bit. " I am, " he replies simply like he's mentioning the weather conditions to a neighbor. You can't help but lurch back in your seat, the hard plastic digging into your shoulder blades. A rainbow of emotions running through you. Disbelief, confusion, anger and some other fluttering tingling feeling that you aren't ready to analyze. "Excuse me?"

You do your best not to shrink underneath the heat of his gaze. It's heavy, intense despite the fact that you can't even directly meet the startling shade of blue from behind the cover of his sunglasses. 

If you still had a heartbeat, you're sure that it would be thrumming against your rib cage like a bird behind bars. Suddenly he's moving forward, blotting out the glow of the florescent lights until all you see is him, the delicious splotches of red across his shirt, dark leather, and the gleam of old badges and snarling teeth. All you can smell is him. Intoxicating. The natural heady musk of him, notes from the smoke of a fire and cigarettes, the heady iron scent of blood, the faint dampness of soil, the oak of leather and something that's a little spicy.  It's suddenly all there, holding you in an inescapable cloud and you swear you could choke on it. 

Since when did Severen like you? You rack you brain for answers. Sure, he flirted with you before your accidental turning but based off of what you've seen flirting is one of the ways that he lures in prey. That and shit talking depending on his mood. So, you weren't a special case in that regard. If anything, he was a little peeved when he figured out that you had turned before he could fully feed from you. 

It was Caleb, Mae and then ultimately that Jesse persuaded him to quick dicking around and properly show you the ropes on how to properly navigate eternity and survive.

And yes, after the whole Texas debacle he did step up a little bit more (other than his usual overbearing antics). Whether it was from Diamond or Jesse ordering him to or if he genuinely wanted to help you, you aren't sure. But he taught you how to become better in tune with the sound of the sun, how to focus in on the feeling without it always being at the forefront. A reminder, not a distraction but not something to be forgotten either. 

He taught you how to properly pick a victim, not to get too cocky (that was rich coming from him of all people) and try and take on too many at once. 

And despite how he managed to grind every nerve in your body you often found yourself spending hours at a time with him, even when he wasn't the one latched onto you like a tick on a dog or being forced into his proximity by hotel room or an RV or car.  

Even though you're now fully capable to hunting on your lonesome the two of you always seem to end up pairing up to get food. 85% of it is you and Severen throwing sarcastic barbs and snarky remarks at each other wondering how the two of you wound up hunting again. Apparently unable to help yourselves. Especially considering that usually ends up being a disaster with the both of you debating on who's going to be the lure or accusing the other of coming on too strong and scaring the prey too soon. 

He even killed a man for getting to handsy with you at the bar. Even though you were intentionally seducing him. Someone you had intended to be your prey but when the young cowboy's hand had reached around to grip your ass suddenly, he was jerked back by his hair and tossed on the floor like a sack of potatoes with Severen's boot on his throat, the sharp edge of his spur digging into his skin with enough pressure to scar. 

"That ain't anyway to treat a lady, is it? " He had sneered, "someone outta beat some manners into ya pretty boy." 

But he's killed plenty of people for the rest of the family. Even for Homer when a man tried to physically remove the "kid" from the establishment. And it's no secret that Homer isn't particularly Severen's favorite out of the group. 

So, what is this?  Some sick little game to pass the time? A new tactic to get under your skin and humiliate you? 

The thoughts swirling in your head lights a fire under your skin chest heaving out of reflex. The audacity of this man will never cease to amaze you. Not only did he ruin your clothes and by proxy your night, but now he's assuming that you'd actually be low enough in character to fuck him. 

"My god you actually think I want to have sex with you?" You chuckle, but there isn't any humor in it. He leans up against the washers behind him not taking his eyes from you lazily propping his body up by draping arms across the machines. Relaxed like a cat lying in the sun. Your anger only seems to amuse him further and that only serves to piss you off even more. " You're disgusting." You seethe between gritted teeth. 

"Hmm have I ever told ya I love it when you talk dirty to me? " He tosses his head back with a low groan. The sound is deep and guttural and the fire under your skin flares up and burns hotter. It's anger you decide. Yep, definitely anger. And even with the smart half of your brain telling you that he's trying to joad you, to get you worked up you can't help but bite out even more insults. The filter between your mouth and your brain fully gone.  "You're a selfish, condescending, asshole with the emotional capacity of a dead roach." But he's only nodding and encouraging you to berate him with more jibes. "You couldn't pay me to touch you, much less have sex with you." 

"Careful baby yer gonna get me all worked up." 

"You're delusional!" You're rising from your seat again, a small way to feel like you're somewhat on even ground even though he easily looks down on you even when you're standing up as straight as you can. That final quip seems to hit some sort of mark because the smile that's there is a little less playful than it was before. "Yer about as subtle as a bull in a china shop sweetheart. " The confusion on your face has him releasing a hyena like little chortle, shoulders shaking. He drops his chin to his chest to gaze at you over his glasses. What kind of dick wears sunglasses at 3:30 in the morning anyway?

" I've seen the little looks you've been givin' me when you think i'm busy not payin' attention. "  

That dampened the anger in your chest. Dousing the heat from the surprise. You refuse to let it show up on your face though, doing your best to school your features into something calm and neutral. "You mean the glaring and the bitchy eye rolling? Yeah, I was hoping you'd notice those. " 

"Nah not those. " 

"Then what looks exactly?" 

"Like you wanna fuck me." 

It's so calmly spoken that it sends you reeling. Yes, Severen is naturally vulgar and he's flirted with you before. But all of that had been suggestions. Fun unserious banter. Not a direct accusation. It flips the entire argument on its head and leaves your jaw hanging open like a fish out of water. 

"Careful baby, " he croons, "you might catch a fly. " 

You don't even respond to that too busy dealing with the torrent of emotions raging inside of. You do not want Severen. That's not possible. To want the man who had altered the entire trajectory of your life, no matter if it was an accident would be the ultimate betrayal to yourself. Yes, your human life was directionless, a sham. You were lost when the Hooker clan walked into that lonely diner along the dusty Arizona backroad. A runaway future trophy wife who took off in the night to flee her lifeless relationship. A decision that was made entirely on impulse and months of repressed insecurities and ignored truths. 

They looked normal enough. A grungy set of ruffians. There were plenty of other people who looked like them. Far from the types you would run across while attending your fiancé's business parties. And you had mused how much they would stick out like a sore thumb among the bubbling champagne flutes, the twinkling diamond chandeliers that cost more than the average person's house, and the passive aggressive gossip tossed between the jaded wives and the young arm-candy of rich men. 

But out there in that worn hole-in-the-wall that stunk of burger grease and cigarette smoke they faded into the background. 

Or they would have if not for some primordial animal instinct that had warned you that you were looking at something beyond yourself and the human life you lead. There was a strange aura around the group. Something gritty and otherworldly. 

And you had noticed him first as if drawn to a magnetic field. Tall dark and handsome is how you could easily describe him. The jingling spurs, the leather, the cocksure grin. He looked like the type of guys that you fantasized about when you were in high school. Criminal bad boys that you and your friends would giggle over during sleepovers while you practiced doing each other's makeup and venting about acne, and boob sizes and gorged yourself on candy that your mother would have grounded you for. 

But then you grew up and met Samuel. Ambitious, well mannered, educated, sweet. But not loyal.  

He was the complete opposite of Sam. He strutted in like he owned the place while he scanned the room. The elderly couple a corner booth; the frazzled waitress behind the bar, her curly ginger hair was weaseling its way out of ponytail one strand at a time. The diner was practically dead, but you figured that the shouting match between her and the cook that you overheard from the kitchen had something to do with her stressed state. You had planned on giving the poor woman a good tip before you left. 

But then his eyes landed on you. He smiled wider and it was a warning sign in its own right. 

Maybe in the beginning there was something about him that you found interesting. Being the antithesis of your ex-fiancé, you assumed that you gravitated towards him because you were still hurt. Even though you never pursued anything with Severen there was still a pull there. On you try your best to ignore. He's cocky and selfish but he has a roughish charm, blunt sarcasm and is painfully nonchalance. But it's also a breath of fresh air. You spent too many years surrounded by people who spoke in double meanings and fake compliments. Every word was twisted until you didn't even know what the truth was anymore. 

But he was a passing fascination. There wasn't any feelings or desire there. Not for the first few months at least. 

So, you absolutely hadn't been seething last week while sitting at a booth with Mae and Diamondback, glaring across the cigarette clouded air while Severen leaned up against the bar, smiling and laughing with a gorgeous brunette. Her long slender legs stretching out from a pair of daisy dukes. Rich brown doe eyes peered at him coyly from underneath thick lashes. Then she placed a perfectly manicured hand on his arm squeezing the sleeve of his jacket and stroking upward. Her eyes were on the patches and badges. Then her lips were moving. 

 Probably asking him about them. Like she actually gives a shit. A ploy to get into his pants. You nearly rolled your eyes at the gesture, how he used it as an excuse to lean in closer until their noses were practically touching. 

"Don't worry honey, " Diamondback's voice had rose over the dim chatter and rock music playing from the jukebox. " Just remember that she's not gonna be alive for very much longer. " 

That had snapped you out of it. Blinking and turning away from him to stare down at the watery magarita clutched in your hand. You didn't know how to respond to her insinuation. So, you didn't. You didn't care what Severen did. He could have slept with every patron in that bar, and it would make little difference to you. You weren't jealous. Right? 

Right? 

It has you thinking back to every little interaction. Running through the memories like files and zeroing in on all of the times that you watched him seduce men and women alike. The sting that would nestle in your chest like a hot coal. It was guilt, right? Feeling sorry about watching his helpless victims naively let him butter them up just so he could lure them away back to their houses or a seedy hotel room so that he could tear them apart. 

Sitting on the sidelines idly like you weren't aware of the danger that lies ahead of them. 

How your stomach would flutter whenever he throws an arm over your shoulders. How you'd stay up with him for hours listening to his stories of his life before he crossed over despite the fact that he's your least favorite person in the group. Letting him take you down memory lane. Back to the days of outlaws and robbing banks and coaches, pillaging the west and running from the law. And in you'd in turn share with him parts of your old life. The country clubs, the expensive parties, the private beaches with cresting waves, the penthouse apartment in Manhattan. And then you'd jokingly whack his chest with no real force behind it when he'd playfully mock you for being spoiled and spoon fed. 

Added together you've probably spent days alone with Severen talking about nothing. Sneaking into movie theaters and shushing him whenever he got too excited, loudly complaining whenever a character makes a stupid decision or whistling and whooping like drunken frat boy whenever a scene got even a little bit suggestive. 

And sure, you've caught yourself staring at him a few times here and there. He's an attractive guy. Ruggedly handsome. Just as wild as the lives you lead and equally as alluring in his own right. Sometimes downright overwhelming in the gravity of his charisma and the intensity that radiates from him whenever he has prey in his sights. Of course, you've noticed it all. The veins that bulge underneath the creamy skin of his hands, the dark hair that dangles above his eyes. It's a little taboo but can't help but admire him whenever he's splattered by the fresh blood of a victim. Drops and smears of red contrasting with the dark blue of his eyes. The dangerous crazed sort of glint when he's taunting his prey, and his body language becomes purposeful and lithe. It always sends a little thrill through you. 

He even does this stupid laugh every once in a while. It had thrown you off when you had first heard it. It seemed like a complete juxtaposition to his character. You never would have imagined that a man as imposing and unrestrained as Severen would produce a dumb noise that has an uncanny resemblance to Goofy, the stupid if not endearing hyuck sound - Jesus Christ you're so stupid! 

You're jealous. You're fucking jealous. And every time you saw him with another person even if they were a means to an end, a nightly meal, it got under your skin. Even though you had no right to feel that way, you couldn't stand to see him walk away with somebody else underneath his arm. 

You wanted nothing more than to snatch them by their hair or the scruff of their necks and take care of them yourself.  

You meet Severen's gaze struggling under the weight of it. Struggling to grabble the scope of your realization. But you're drowning. The shrieking of the fan, the spice and leather of his scent. The room feels so small now, tight, crinkling up around you like a soda can under a heavy boot. 

"I can't do this right now, " you just barely choke the words out around the sudden thickness of your throat and turn to exit. You only make it about three feet before there's a grip on your forearm and you're being spun around. "Wait, wait, wait baby, " he's cooing in soft voice, like he's trying to soothe a spooked animal. "You ain't gotta go and have a conniption fit, I was just playing with ya. " He drops your hand with a defeated sigh like he's not the one who decided to go and be an asshole. 

"What?" You snap heatedly. 

" Nuthin'. Didn't mean to go and get ya all worked up, " Yeah, like you believe that. Severen's entire M.O. is to cause trouble and stick his nose where it doesn't belong. "You just about got stream comin' out of your ears." He squints his eyes at you like you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out. "Why are you runnin' baby? " He asks cocking his head. Then he's stepping closer prompting you to move back to keep the space between you. 

"I'm not running, " you deny weakly. He scoffs at that pinning you with a glare that stirs up a thick warm feeling in your gut. And he's still stalking after you like he can't bear having even centimeters keeping you apart. You haven't felt like this in the longest time. Forgotten what it felt like to be pursued. Followed by an apex predator. To be the prey. And he seems to notice the shift in you because to the steady, cautious gate he was keeping suddenly shifts to that calculated tread that he has when he's hunting. "Oh, I don't know babydoll, " he rasps, voice taken on a thick tone. Heavy and low. It has tingles dancing across your skin. " I think you are. You aren't scared of me, are ya?  I thought we were past that. " 

Your back hits the wall just a few scant inches from the threshold of the open door. You could easily twist on the balls of your feet and slip out of the laundromat, leaving Severen alone and fleeing to the safety of the room. Homer's probably plopped in front of the TV watching some rerun and the other two couples are probably out enjoying some time to themselves. You could leave. Go and lock yourself in the bathroom and sit under the spray of the shower head and pretend that a night of washing clothes hadn't just changed the way that you look at not just yourself but the man that turned you. 

But you don't. You're glued to the spot. Helpless to watch as he eliminates the remaining space and now stands toe to toe with you. The tips of his boots nudging the rounded points of your scuffed sneakers. 

"No, I'm not scared of you, " you finally respond. And it's true. You aren't afraid of him. You afraid of all of these restrained feelings and urges that are now bubbling under the surface, straining against the lid you have kept on tight now that you've broken the seal and took a peek. 

"Then what are you runnin' from? " Hearing the same question twice doesn't make it any easier to stomach. Doesn't make it any less difficult to face. You are terrified in a sense. Terrified that you'll just be used. A passing fancy, just another hole to fuck when he can't find someone to fill the void. Used, discarded and forgotten. You've felt the sting of betrayal before. Blamed yourself for Sam losing interest. That you weren't pretty enough anymore, that you'd become too boring, that you should have been more attentive. You had spent hours lying alone in a cold empty bed wondering where you went wrong while Sam was spending his time screwing his secretary in his high-rise office.  

"I . . . " The words die in your throat hanging empty in the air. You couldn't tell him that it wasn't just all physical. How despite how pathetically blind you were to them that over the course eleven months you have managed to develop feelings for one of the most crude and frustrating men you've ever met. That as much as you wanted to grab him by the hair and fuck his brains out you also wanted to sit in his lap in public, to run down the streets with him at night and wreak havoc on the poor unsuspecting souls that cross your path, to hold his hand and kiss his bloodied lips after a successful hunt. It is undeniably corny, but you don't just want him. You want him to be yours. 

Taking notice of your internal struggle Severen reaches up to cup the sides of your face. His hold light and unsure but he doesn't remove them. The gesture is so out of character for him that it has you looking up at him in surprise. He almost looks nervous, a streak of vulnerability flashing across his face, but it's gone in a blink and he's back to looking poised and controlled. But you know that he's just as out of his depth as you are, and the realization gives you the footing that you need. This time it's you who steps forward eating up the remaining leeway until your chest is pressed against his and you can feel the metal of his belt buckle and badges digging into you. He drops one of his hands, the remaining one moving to sweep his fingers through your hair, tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumb. 

The energy has shifted. No longer pulled painfully taut, and awkwardly nervous. but charged. Still vulnerable, but electricity that steady rises in the air is welcome. The world was at a standstill, holding its breath in anticipation. It was stifling like the both of you had become magnetized and the heat in your abdomen spread further, burning the stagnant blood in your veins. Your nipples stiffen underneath the cloth of your stolen shirt.  Everything was too warm, and you hadn't even done anything yet. And the only thing that keeps you from being swept up in your embarrassment is that you remind yourself that it has been a month or two since you've actually been touched by a man. You're just a bit pent up is all. 

There's a hardness pressing against you through your sweatpants. That's definitely not his belt buckle. You have to fight to suppress a grin to know that he's already as worked up as you are. 

His hand at his side slips to your stomach rucking up the shirt to get to the edge of your pants, fingers stroking the skin there but not slipping any further. You nearly whine, but you still have your head screwed on straight enough to try and cover up the noise, instead opting to lowly curse him under your breath but he definitely heard you if the smug way that he snickers is anything to go by. 

"So, you gonna admit it? " The low Texan drawl has your eyes fluttering open. You didn't even realize they were shut. It takes you a minute to figure out what he's referring to. But you don't feel like giving him that sort of satisfaction. Not yet at least, the push and pull is already too fun, too good to give up so soon.  You look up at him, feigning ignorance while you nose along his cheek, skirting dangerously close to his lips. "What do you mean?" You ask against his skin, pressing up tighter against him to tease, propping your knee against the bulge straining underneath his jeans. He hisses through his teeth and the hand cradling your face moves to your throat faster than you can blink. His hold is firm enough to keep you pinned in place, but not enough to hurt you. You can't help the satisfaction you feel. He already looks like he's hanging on by a thread, eyes glinting in the light. There's a crazed edge to them that would terrify anyone else, but it has you clenching around nothing, and you have to hold yourself back from grinding on him in a mindless haze. It nearly surprises you how quickly you managed to set him on edge, but then again Severen's always been one to restrain himself. Self-discipline has always been something that he's avoided like the plague. 

"God dammit woman, its always gotta be a fight with you don' it." 

"You say that like you don't like it," Your voice is amused and breathless but apparently far too cocky for his liking. His hand finally slips past the waist band of your pants. " Well, momma did always say I had a knack for trouble," he agrees like he isn't slipping a dexterous finger against you, parting your folds with an experimental brush that has your jaw parting despite how delicate the touch is. " Hell baby, your gettin' all haughty but I ain't hardly done nothin' and you're already wound up tight. This little cunt's soakin' my fingers." 

Your cheeks burn at the remark, suddenly bashful again. It usually took a lot more than some light grinding and teasing to get you up and going, but if you're finally going to be honest with yourself Severen's always been able to affect you without having to do much of anything. But you've never really been one to let him have the last word. "That's funny coming from the guy who's about to burst out of his jeans, " you taunt around an airy moan. He starts drawing circles around your clit. Not enough pressure to bring you any real pleasure, but just enough to keep you hooked. It has the simmering heat in your belly flaring up in a delicious burn. "I'll give it to ya sugar. Ya just gotta say the word, save the both of us from waitin.' " 

He releases your throat, trading his hand for his lips, latching onto the soft sensitive skin and sucking. It has your head lolling, thumping back against the wall at the feeling of teeth nipping across where your pulse would have thrummed if you still had one. You tilt your head back baring more of your neck to him which has him purring against you with a pleased hum. You don't even notice the way that your hips have started to roll against his fingers in a desperate attempt to get some sort of friction. Something to hold you over. Just a little bit more please- he's suddenly pulling his hand out of your pants leaving you wet and wanting. You cry out weakly, a protest heavy on the tip of your tongue but you're too busy panting around useless lungfulls of oxygen so you fix him with a glare instead. Quietly seething as he removes his head from the crook of your neck.

His eyes lock with yours, the ocean blue stormy and dark with want and you nearly shake underneath the power of it. He raises his hand up letting you take in the way that the wetness that coats them glimmers under the old fluorescents and then he's slipping them into his mouth. Making a show of it, groaning and closing his eyes like he's savoring a rich wine. 

"Severen, " you gasp, fisting the lapels of his jacket in an attempt to anchor yourself. You have to turn the tables somehow. Get him just as worked up as you are. And if the way that he's still drooling over his cum stained fingers is any indication, slurping at the taste in a vulgar display of lust, it shouldn't be too hard. That's the thing about Severen. He's a hedonist in every sense of the word. Once he has something that he wants in his sights it doesn't take much for him to abandon reason and pursue no matter the consequences. Not even a shot gun to the chest can keep him from what he wants. It's a dangerous trait combined with how susceptible he is to his own desires. Running around like a mad dog sniffing after a wounded rabbit.  Severen operates off of emotions and desires rather than logic and reason. 

It's qualities that makes him a lethal, if not a chaotic hunter. Undoubtedly one of the most dangerous of the Hooker clan. But as commendable as his feral tenacity is it's also a fatal flaw. One that you're definitely going to exploit. 

Play your cards right and you'll have him eating out of your hand. Not really playing cards honestly. Severen doesn't require that much strategy. Not when he's already horny and thinking with the head in his pants. 

"Yeah, pretty girl, whatcha need?" He's grinning at you again, clearly basking in the affect he has on you. " All ya gotta do is say it." 

You grip him by his hair, knocking his sunglasses off letting them clatter on the pale tiles forgotten, drawing him into a heated kiss that lights you both on fire. It wasn't soft or sweet and sugary like the old you would have probably wanted for a first kiss, but this was just as good. Time around you seems to slow down before dimming out entirely as if it was sucked into a black hole, all of the background noise from the outside world now muffled and distant like your ears are full of cotton. 

It's sloppy, desperate and full of teeth and you're both squeezing yourselves together, joining like a rough puzzle. You let him lick into the heat of your mouth, shivering at the sweet taste of iron from his recent meal, the earthy musk of yourself on his tongue, angling your head to deepen the kiss, nipping at his lips and then he's moaning in a way that would probably embarrass him if he had the mind to care. 

It has you gripping his hair harder and suddenly his hands are all over you. Sweeping down your hips, up your back, reaching to squeeze the swell of your ass like he can't get enough and can't decide where to touch. Like you might disappear if he doesn't keep his hold on you. Nailing you tighter against the wall with his crushing weight. 

The firm line of his cock poking at you from between two layers of separate clothing gives you some clarity and you're squeezing an arm through the press of your bodies, which is a task in itself considering that it's near impossible to create leeway, being quite literally trapped between a wall and a hard place. Severen absolutely refusing to inch back to give you room to work, instead growling into your mouth like you're personally affronting him. The sharp nips of his teeth on your lips and the tightening grip on your butt punctuating the complaint. 

You finally get ahold of your prize in your blind search. Your fingertips slip on the slick metal while you hastily jerk the buckle undone, hand shaking despite the limited amount of adrenalin now available in your body. And you're thumbing the zipper down just as quickly, desperate to get it down before Severen can focus enough to realize what you're doing. Halfway down the zipper is catching on the worn teeth of its track but it's good enough to work with and you're cramming your hand down his jeans and are immediately met with the throbbing heat of his cock. Of course, he'd go commando. 

He breaks the kiss like he's reluctant to do it dragging your bottom lips between his teeth as he pulls away, looking down at you through a drunken haze, eyes already glassy and glazed over and the space between his brows are pinched in way that would make you think that he was in pain if you didn't know any better. Then you're gripping him, feeling the damp stream of precum that's been steadily leaking from his cock and squeeze the head and move up in a firm upward stoke, spreading the wetness up the length of him. Severen's groaning into the air, spitting an array of colorful words under his breath while mindlessly thrusting into the smooth heat of your hand. 

It has you burning, legs shaking like you're the one with a hand in their pants. But God you never thought you'd see the day. To have Severen, the guy who couldn't shut up if you paid him to, moaning under you. Arrogant, sarcastic Severen melted against you, barely holding himself up and desperate all from a little hand job. The thrill that you got was unparalleled, dowsing gasoline on your ego, on the inferno of lust already burning underneath your skin. You can feel slick already smearing on the inside of your thighs at the gritty pleasure-drunk groans that keeps spilling out of him. 

The angle is hell on your wrist, the lack of room available to move your arm has the muscles screaming. It doesn't help that he's the equivalent of a brick wall, clinging to your body like a desperate, horny leech. But you don't let up, focusing on making him fall apart, twisting your wrist around the stiff velvet of his cock, squeezing the head with each upstroke. 

You lick at the flesh underneath his jaw, swiping at the skin with the tip of your tongue, and his upper body practically liquifies while he exposes more of his neck, shoving the expanse of it harder against your lips like he wants you to bite him. Hmm . . . Hardly one to resist your curiosity, you do just that. Opening you mouth to lave your tongue over the chosen spot before sinking your teeth down, not enough to break the skin but enough for it to sting, just enough to test the water. And you aren't disappointed. "Fuckin' shit!" he chokes out, the groan that follows is completely debauched and unhinged, and the obscene amount of cum that leaks from him makes you worried that he might have already came, but he's still hard and pulsing in your fist. 

You thread your fingers through the inky strands of his hair, guiding his face back to look at you, admiring his blissed out, barely there expression. 

"That feels good, doesn't it?" You croon, still working his cock in a steady rhythm meeting the clumsy roll of his hips. "It can feel even better too. All you have to do is say the word." You can't help but throw his comment back at him, still riding the high of having him at your mercy, of the control you have over him. So, it admittedly catches you by surprise when he's tearing your hand away from him, securing an arm around your back like a lock. "Aw baby, " he snickers, a complete one-eighty from the desperate mess that he was only seconds ago. His grin is all sharp edges and predatory, and paired with the wild gleam in his eyes it sends liquid heat pooling in inside of you. Your toes curl inside of your shoes as eager as you are nervous to see where this goes. " You don' call the shots here. I do. " 

Then he's gripping your shoulders and turning you to shove your front down onto the defaced folding table that had sat next to you against the wall, the steel feet harshly shrieking against the floor. The change in perspective is jarring. Squinting underneath the artificial light, allowing your gaze to skirt around the room taking in the row of egg white washing machines, the set of ugly hard plastic chairs to your far left, and the built in dryers lining the pealing mustard yellow walls. The reality of it hit you with the force of a speeding car, humiliation flooding your system and stinging at the apples of your cheeks. 

Had you really gotten so caught up in the moment that you completely forgot that you were out in a public place? 

"Severen, wait- someone might see," you make to prop yourself up but he's placing a hand on the small of your back and pressing down, flattening your stomach against the cool surface of the table. " You were just jackin' my dick like there's no tomorrow. " He shifts closer, pressing himself into your backside shamelessly humping against the thick fabric of your sweatpants. "No one's been out here for hours. It's just you an' me." 

He's not wrong. The last you saw someone outside the motel was roughly after you had all settled into the room, figuring out the sleeping situation and showering after a few days of roughing it. You had finally been able to properly wash your hair after having to settle for awkwardly ducking your head under the sinks of gas station bathrooms. After picking up your soiled blood-stained clothes from the floor and shoving them into your backpack you had stepped out onto the dusty, dimly lit parking lot. The first thing you had noticed was how empty it all was. Apart from the stolen RV that Severen had parked close by, there were only two other vehicles. An older gentleman was sitting outside of his room, smoking a hand rolled cigarette and staring off into the night. But based on the way that he rose from the chair he had been sitting on and turned to snuff out the cigarette on the window seal, you figured he was on his way on his way back inside. And other than the amalgamation of scents that come with well-traveled spaces, there weren't any that have been accompanied by the potent metallic call of blood, or the pulse of a heartbeat. The town is quiet and asleep. 

It is just you and him. 

 A thrill bursts from deep inside you, spreading across your body and shivering up your spine. Something that he without a doubt caught given how tightly he was pressed up against your ass. You could feel the smugness radiating from him, basking in how he could turn you into mush by doing so little. His hands are on your hips now, slipping under your shirt and tracing up and down your sides with electricity following the path of his palms. His fingertips skim dangerously close to your breasts. You lift yourself up on your elbows in the hopes that he'd continue upwards and take them in his hands. But the tips of his thumbs rub across the soft skin just above the sensitive skin of your nipples. Humming a breathless whine your hips start to greedily roll back against his and in doing so the seam of your pants gets tugged up between your bodies and presses up deliciously against your swollen clit making your jaw drop open.  

A satisfied hum all warm and heavy dips into a fiendish giggle and then he's taking your invitation, squeezing your breasts into his hands. They're rough, worn from decades of use, calluses and old scars from his time as a human weathering the skin. The texture of them has you mewling and then he's rolling them between his fingers, strumming the unforgiving heat inside you. Your pussy flutters around nothing, reminding you of how devastatingly empty you are. 

"Ya know I could always tell ya were a bit sweet on me, " he admitted, leaning over you, followed by leather and spice. His words just barely make it through the thick red mist that packs your mind like stuffing, moving your head so that you could peer at him from the corner of your eye. You should be embarrassed by his revelation, insulted that he of all people (and apparently) everyone else had seen your little crush before you did. But the arousal is already too great. You can hardly focus on much else. But then he's leaning down so his chest is against your back, nuzzling into your cheek and pecking you with a kiss that's too chaste given your current predicament. "I could smell it on ya." 

That you get loud and clear regardless of the fact that you're still grinding down on him like a paid whore. Does he have to bring this up now of all times? Who are you kidding, of course he does. Severen would never pass up the opportunity to be petty and knock you down a peg or two. God, the thought of it hadn't even crossed your mind. Your senses have obviously become heightened since your turning, surpassing the human experience by unimaginable extremes. It was almost overwhelming when you were freshly crossed over. For one, you can follow a scent trail for miles, so the fact that you've apparently gone nose blind to your own scent is a bit jarring. A blessing and a curse most likely. 

And the fact that you didn't even think of Severen sniffing out your arousal both surprises and disappoints you. 

And it's even worse to know that the entire clan must have - nope! No, not right now. 

"You like to strut around like yer too big for your britches, but you were jus' achin for it weren't ya." 

"Severen, I swear if you don't shut up, I'm gon. . . na . . . " You voice trails off on a choked breath when he cruelly rips his hands away from your chest and the weight at your back lifts away, followed your pants being jerked from your hips and down to your knees with a quickness. The light chill of the room meeting the heat of your cunt has you gasping. "Ya know sugar, you talk too much for your own good. " Oh, that's the pot calling the kettle black. Then his hands are on the thick of your thighs, kneading the flesh between his fingers and kisses are being scattered across the sensitive skin, some with just the barest hints of teeth and your brain's turning back to mush. You can feel his hair brushing and tickling against you. His tongue runs up the inside of your thigh, cleaning up the slick that has been dripping from you and stopping just before he reaches where you need him most. 

You whine open and shameless rocking back to try and get him to do something. Anything.  A shocking sting erupts on the swell of your ass like it's been struck with a heated metal, a heavy clap ringing out across the room making you yelp. Feverous need burned hot in your stomach at the realization that he spanked you. He fucking spanked you. 

You nearly say fuck it; you almost throw your pride to the wind and beg but then without a word of warning he's spreading your lips open with his thumbs and the warmth of his mouth is on you. You barely register him groaning over the sound of your forehead slamming on the table beneath you, eyes rolling in the back of your skull at the firm press of his tongue grazing over your clit before swiping over your slit, collecting the taste of you on his tongue and swallowing. He burrows his face as deep as possible, drawing in a deep breath that's utterly filthy so that he could take in your scent while working his tongue inside of you, and his arm is reaching around your bucking hips so that he can drag tight circles around your swollen bud. " 'Amn ya 'aste s' good, " he grunts, absolutely refusing to remove his face by even the slightest degree. Groans muffled and slurred. " 'weet as pie." 

Your hands are reaching around the table clawing across the surface until you find the edge of the plastic, desperate for something to ground yourself down to reality while you try not to float away. His tongue is unforgiving, burrowing deep, lapping along your inner walls like he's trying to drink you down. Your legs are shaking and it's searing at your toes and fingertips. The muscles in your abdomen are already tensing and it feels like a wave is rising high. It was almost demeaning how quickly he's working you towards your climax. 

He removes his fingers from the swollen bundle of nerves, opting to spread you open with them instead so that he can play with your clit in delicious, practiced strokes with his tongue . . . Sharp repetitive shapes coaxing you closer and closer. It takes you a second to focus around the pleasure clouding your brain, but you catch it. Blunt capital letters crudely shaped by the curl of his tongue. An 'S' an 'E' followed by five more letters before being repeated. 

His name. The bastard is spelling his name on your clit. Then his lips are sealed around your slit, gulping down the wetness that smeared down his nose and chin and groaning wantonly, and you fleetingly wonder if he's touching himself from eating you out. 

The thought has you jerking against him, back bowing taut and he has to grip you with his free hand to keep you from wiggling free from his hold. Hard enough to leave a bruise behind.  The vibrations of his voice against your pussy, the scratch of his five o' clock shadow rubbing against your skin, the suction of his mouth, the unforgiving strum of his fingers, it's all too much at once. It's good. it's so, so good . . . Your hips snap sharply in a shameless grind, riding his face as the wave rises up, looming over you, dangerously close to sweeping you under. Fuck, just a bit . . . more . . . 

Then it stops as soon as it started, and your body is aching in an almost painful way fluttering and shaking violently around the loss of his tongue and fingers. But before you can berate or beg him, he's hauling you up by the nape of your neck and jerking you around to snag your bottom lip between the hold of his teeth, pulling you into a kiss that's hungry and burning. You melt under the heat of it like wax, compliant and wanting. 

He's reaches down to grip the swell of your ass and lifts you up like you weigh the same as a sack of feathers to deposit you back on the table, pulling back away from you, ignoring the helpless moan you emit so he can fervently start tugging at one of your shoes, swearing when it catches on the heel of your foot. He tosses it once he finally wiggles it off, the leg of your sweats quickly following. He doesn't even bother with the other sneaker, apparently deeming it too much of a hassle to remove, leaving the thick fabric of your sweats to bunch around the shoe and hang uselessly. 

You're tugging him closer by the lapels of his coat as he's done, spreading your legs wide, offering yourself up for him to finally take. An offer that he doesn't refuse, reaching to grip you by the throat and forcing you to look into the wide feral glint of his eyes. He looks like he's a man possessed, lips still glistening with the dewy gloss of your arousal, and he's never looked hotter. But you can't help but wonder if you're going to make it out of this alive. 

"As much as I love the taste of you, sugar, when you cum it's gonna be on my dick. " He growls, grinding the thick head of his cock against your clit, making your cunt quiver, still sensitive from your denied orgasm. It has strings of pleasure shooting deep and latching into the muscles and sinew of your body.  You secure the hold of your legs around his waist, panting and begging against his chest, hoping that he'd finally give in and let you have it. 

"Yeah, ya want it? " His voice is all condescending and cocky around its southern drawl. On any other night, in any other moment it would have absolutely pissed you off. It still kind of does, cutting into the lustful haze and striking a chord. But he's tapping the thick head of his cock over your slit in steady teasing motions, over and over like he's got all the time in the world. 

"Yes, yes, please. I want it." You beg, officially throwing your pride out of the window. You barely get the words out before he's pushing within the wet velvet of your cunt, the both of you groaning with shard relief at the sensation of him finally stretching you open. He doesn't wait for you adjust, and you're thankful that your already so worked up and ready because he immediately sets a brutal pace, punching into you without a shred of mercy, bottoming out with each stroke. All you can do is cling to his shoulders and do your best to chase the wild rhythm. The ecstasy is already boiling and pulsing up your spine. He takes a nipple in between his rough fingers while rutting deep, groaning into the junction of your neck with a faint hint of teeth like he might bite you.  

If someone had told you hours before that you would be getting railed in a laundromat at 4 in the morning by Severen, you would have laughed in their face. But now that he's actively turning your brain into liquid mush you can't help but mourn the fact the two of you probably could have been doing this regularly if you had just put your differences aside.  

"Ya gotta be quiet. " He huffs, nuzzling against your cheek. You hadn't even realized the increasing volume of your hiccupping moans. You burry your face into the hollow of his throat, biting into the skin in an attempt to muffle yourself, but it proves to be useless with the broken, pleasured sobs still escaping around the makeshift gag.  " Unless you wan' someone to hear. " Then like the devious bastard that he is he's shifting on his feet, spreading his legs wider to pour more power into his thrust, grabbing the meat of your thighs to hitch them higher around his waist so that he can punch deep and absolutely flay you open and pour molted heat inside, setting every singular nerve alight like sparklers.  

"Oh, fuck! " You cry brokenly, voice already raw. He's suddenly there, the drag of his cock repeatedly grinding against that devastating spot inside of you with deadly precision, like he's fucked you a million times. Like he already has every inch of you mapped out. Now you're just along for the ride, clinging to him helplessly while the pleasure lights up like a live wire thrashing across steaming water. Your back arches almost painfully and your fingers rake down the smooth leather of his jacket, no doubt leaving raged scratches across the expanse of it. You are a little disappointed that it isn't the flesh of back that you're slicing angry red streaks across - not that the scratches would last long either way, but it has the possessive part of you mourns the lost opportunity. 

He doesn't slow his rhythm in the slightest, delighting in the way that your body writhes and jolts. The laundromat fills with the lewd sounds of your coupling, the wet slap of skin on skin, the restrained moans and cries, the filthy, repetitive squelching of his cock filling your cunt.  

You aren't even in control of your own body anymore, completely enslaved to the burning syrupy pour of pleasure that courses through your veins and across each piece of you like lava, a mindless animal chasing after the high. You catch little compliments and curses under the ragged gasps of his breath, weak, wrecked sounds. Some have your heart going all melted and fuzzy, praising you so sweetly, but you're also gasping at the pure shameless filth that's pouring out of him like a fountain. You've never heard him sound so mindless, so gutted. His honeyed drawl is wrecked, frazzled around the edges while he pants in your ear like he's been wounded. And the fact that he's just as affected as you are, just as fucked out, has you clenching down around him like your pussy is trying to milk him for all he's worth. 

"God damn, yer fuckin' squeezin' me, " he groans, shuttering at the scrape of your nails across his scalp, leaning into it like a purring housecat. And then he's pulling your face away from the crook of his neck to stare you down, gripping you by the jaw.  The wild glare of his eyes is electrical, sharp and dangerous. A trickle of fear steaks deep across your frying nerves before swiftly mutating into an aching throb of lust. The satisfied wolfish grin that greets you tells you that he knows. "Feelin' good? Yeah, ya are. My good girl ain'tcha, takin' me so well. " The praise has you gripping his shoulders like you'll fall apart without the support. And right now, you probably would. "You're mine now." 

Not just 'baby' or 'sweetheart', but his. It has another feeling welling up, tearing at the walls, a possessive urge that you've been too been to ignorant, too scared to acknowledge. Months of pent-up jealousy and want. The need to stake your claim after standing on the side lines and watching just about every man and woman in the U.S flirt and feel him up. 

You meet him with an unwavering stare of your own threading your fingers through the dark strands of his hair in a jealous hold. "Then I guess that means you're mine, too, " and then you're yanking his head back and sinking your teeth into him just above his beaded necklace. Skin breaks underneath the cut of your teeth, splitting just as easily as warmed butter. Iron and smoked spice gushes across your taste buds, spilling into your mouth like a fine aged bourbon. The sinful flavor shreds your brain, sinking you deeper under the burned haze of need and want. His skin is vibrating under your mouth, shaking from the volume of his gutted moans. He grips you closer, jerking up inside the quivering heat of your cunt with rabid unrelenting thrusts. 

You preen under his desperation, swallowing around the tendons of his throat, gulping down mouthfuls of his spiced blood like its ichor. You haven't drunk his blood since the night you had crossed over and then you had been sluggish and confused under the stress of the night. But no matter how muddled your memories are you do remember his taste. You always blamed it one being recently turned, the foreign torturous hunger seizing your body that made him taste so good. But now you know that it's just him. Heat and cream and spice. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you greedily gulp at the wound while the essence of him flows into your stomach. 

"You dirty fuckin' minx!" He slurs out on drunken words, barely forming them around the moan they chase. His wrecked reaction and the high you feel from successfully getting the upper hand on Severen has you smiling around the bite of your teeth. Now that you have knowledge of this little chink in his armor you can't wait to abuse the hell of it. But as good as it is you don't want to take too much and hurt him. So, with a great amount of restraint you remove your teeth from the meat of his neck, ignoring his protesting moan and reluctantly pull back just enough to lap the flowing wound, admiring at the way that it pours down his chest, joining the rest of the red that soils his wife beater. 

"You were made f'r me. Made for my cock, " he rambles somehow driving himself into you with even more vigor. 

The buckle of his belt is digging into the back of your thigh with each pointed thrust. It's messy and ragged and feral. Perfect.  It has the heavy, burning pressure steadily climbing up, your body tightening like a rubber band being stretched to its limits. The pleasure that looms over you is almost daunting, fizzling at your skin like a lit fuse burning closer to a stick of dynamite. "C'mon baby, I can feel ya, " he grits fervently.  He's pressing a rough thumb to your swollen clit, grinding it in perfect timing with the burning drag of his cock. But a part of you didn't want it to end yet, too scared to face what may follow afterwards. You couldn't help the bitter fear of rejection. That this was just a one-time thing. You don't know if you'd be able to forget tonight, to brush it off and pretend that it didn't happen. To just sweep it under the rug and face eternity. You willed your body to hold back, doing your best to extend the pleasure afraid of letting go of this moment. But he could feel it. "It's alrigh,' let go. I gotcha. " 

Then he's licking into the bloodied hollow of your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. It's messy and debauched and decadent all at once. It has you gasping into him, riding his fingers and cock in a wanton abandon, the fear that parades around in your head discarded to the side like useless, broken toy. The world spins on itself as the pleasure arches high. You could feel it there, taste it on the tip of your tongue like lightning and honey, a wave ready to take you under and drown you alive. 

"Lemme feel ya. Be my good girl and cum." 

Everything - the world, time, your body - seizes. Muscles shaking like you've been tazed, writhing under the sweetened, stinging claws of ecstasy as it tears through your body in unforgiving pulses. Fuck. Your jaw drops open in a silent wail, arms, legs and cunt tensing around Severen's body like bands of steal while he continues his heavy thrusts, intent on dragging out your pleasure until you can't take it. Everything is muffled like your ears are stuffed with cotton and your heads packed with fuzz, and you swear you've died, unable to form a single coherent thought. All you can do is feel.  You're a nerve of fire and electric heat. Suspended and lost adrift in the moment and an overwhelming cocoon of liquid euphoria. He still hasn't stopped. His cock is still filling you with sharp jolts, hellbent on wringing out every burst of bliss that he possibly can. 

"Sev, please. I want you to fill me up, I wan-" his mouth meets yours with the clacking of teeth, and you're drinking each other down. He only manages a few more sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts of his hips before he's burying deep, shoving himself against the cradle of your thighs and coming in thick heavy pulses while his body shakes and quivers. The raw, aggressive drag of his lips has melted into a softer exchange. Delicately nipping and pecking at each other's lips while he still rocks against you in lazy, unhurried drags. You're covered in blood and filth but it's still so sweet and sugary. You don't want the night to end. 

It has you stilling. The weight of your actions settling over you like a winter breeze. You had just fucked Severen. The man you're supposed to hate. You should hate him. You shouldn't be lamenting the very big possibility that he'll pull out, buckle his belt and leave you sitting in your collective mess to stew in your humiliation and guilt. You don't even know how you would cope living with him after tonight. Sleeping in the same rooms as him; listening to the that cute, weird little piggish snort that bubbles out of him when he tells a joke, to walk around and act like he didn't hold up a mirror and force you to acknowledge the feelings that you've been carting around for months on end. 

Worn hands are cupping your face in a delicate hold, like you'd fall apart if they gripped to hard, gently directing you to look up and meet a set of hooded baby blues. Concern melting into the lust glazed pools. "Why the sour look?" He asks, voice raw and strung out from use. "I didn't think I did all that bad." 

Despite the inner turmoil, the little joke has a smile weakly quirking your lips. You shake your head as best as you can while being restricted under the hold of his palms.  "Well, you weren't the worst if that helps, " you quip back, trying to block out the ice of your insecurities, even for a moment. " For a second there I thought you had killed me." 

His eyebrows shoot up dramatically, followed by an awed whistle. "Damn, knocked ya dead twice. That must be some sort of record. " 

He catches the playful punch you try to throw at his chest, nipping at the knuckles. You could lie to him. Tell him that you're fine and go on with your night. Even if he doesn't believe you there's a fifty-fifty chance that he won't pry any further. But . . .  You also don't want to walk around without closure. 

"It's just. . . the 'you're mine' thing . . . " Jesus Christ, you feel like a teenage girl again stuttering in front of your crush in the middle of the high school hallway. And the intent way that he's staring at you does little to ease the fluttering ball of anxiety in your chest. It's too much. And so, you look anywhere but him. Sweeping your eyes past him to study the old, questionably stained wall that has suddenly become very interesting. "Did you mean it or was it just sex talk?" 

The grating voice in the back of your head crooning that he's going to laugh at you. Call you stupid for assuming that he had actually meant it. You're waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath you and to be left to bust your ass on the cold floor. Alone, dumb, and useless. A girl with a crush. 

But he's gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs- god, he's still inside you. You're trying to be all vulnerable and he's still ins- and sweeping soothing circles across the stretch of them with his thumbs. It pulls you out of your head a bit, focusing you just enough to really look at him. His dark hair is tussled, hanging in front of the gorgeous blue of his eyes in a way that you always found attractive on him. Scarlett lightly stains his lips from the bloody kisses you had exchanged, making them glisten lightly under the light. The bite mark on his neck has yet to fully heal, ugly and blunt and bleeding, it has the possessive streak inside of you preening and strutting. You did that. You marked him, not someone else. He's ruggedly handsome, lightly panting from the exertion despite the fact that he doesn't need to. Just over a centuries old habit. 

"I said it didn' I? I meant it. " He says it so matter-of-factly that it makes you feel stupid. "It's you an' me." 

That has the ice thawing, snapping off to drift downstream and far away. You pull him to you again to peck at his lips, completely overcome and basking in the glow of it. The relief. Your chest is bursting, filling up with the sun. The sun before all this. Before the dark and the blood. Soft, and fuzzy and inviting and warm. A sun without consequence or death in its wake " Ya know- " Severen starts, talking between your kisses. " Yer about as dense as you are beautiful." 

That gives you pause, briefly wondering if you heard him right. You stare at him like he's grown a second head, eyebrows furrowing. There's that unforgivingly sharp tongue of his, always at the ready to strike. But it doesn't ruin the private moment between you, it just shifts gears. The jab is spoken much more softly than it would have typically been. It's more playful, lacking bite. It keeps you from heating up a cutting remark of your own. Instead of bristling and shaking out of his hold like the old you would have done you level him with a glare, a teasing warning all in its own, cautioning him to explain with no real gall behind it.  

"Oh, don't look at me like that, " He scoffs petulantly. " I've always been a bit sweet on ya too. I made it pretty damn obvious." 

"You did not-" 

" Hell woman, I killed about damn near every guy you ever flirted with!" 

Wow, he really thought that being an obnoxious douche and outright taking your diner was the equivalent of flirting. Like a bully pulling at the pigtails of his crush because he's too bullheaded to have a conversation. Figures that Severen would think that singlehandedly snatching your meals from you is a declaration of feelings.  "I thought you were being a dick!" You counter, " you're always stealing my food. " 

"I wasn't stealin', I always give the bodies back to ya. I was jus' . . . doin' the dirty work for ya. " You suppose that he is correct now that you think back on it. After tearing the unfortunate souls' throat out with his teeth or slitting it from ear to ear with a broken beer bottle or at times the lethal silver of his spurs (often saved for the people that piss him off the most) he'd discard the body at your feet like a feral barn cat dropping a hunted mouse on the doorstep of its owners front porch like a twisted offering, beaming at you with his mouth smeared red and his chest puffing out like a strutting rooster. Wait . . . offering. You always thought that his habit of killing your prey came from a place of malice. A way to poke and prod at you. A grim reminder that you still weren't as ruthless as him. That you still aren't a good enough hunter after all this time. 

But like a dumb ass you were reading it all wrong. Blinded by forced disdain and your own insecurities. But then again, it's not your fault that he's apparently allergic to simply sitting down and talking. Roughly two hundred years old and he still can't seem to process his emotions like an adult. You truly know how to pick them. 

But the sadist- the betrayed fiancé in you wants to hear the confession out of his own mouth. You need the confirmation for yourself. "Why?" 

His eyes soften around the edges, melting like slates of ice. It's a look you've only seen twice from him since the months you've been a part of each other's lives. And it's a soothing balm on the old scar that still hasn't fully healed inside you. 

"You've come a long way from bein' that scared girl, jumpin' at shadows like a cute lil' scaredy cat. I mean, sometimes the way you go after those poor bastards really gets my blood pumpin' down south. " His voice drops to a husky timbre, reminding you of nights spent in neon lit bars, filled with the high of adrenaline sizzling in your veins from a successful hunt, tinged with the sinful iron bliss of blood. That southern is twang rounding out and cutting edges, dripping with heat and melted honey. You feel him twitch inside of you, clearly enjoying the memories parading around inside his head. You almost worry that he'll try to use it as an excuse to ditch the current conversation and try to get in your pants again (like he still isn't inside of you and like you wouldn't enthusiastically indulge in another round regardless) but to your relief he doesn't. "But I can still see ya hesitate sometimes- drag it out longer than necessary. So, I figured it wouldn't do any harm if I stepped in from time to time and took care of 'em for ya. Not that I wantcha goin' soft on me. " 

He wasn't wrong. You have accepted your new life. Finally stopped struggling against the dark fate that's been set out before you regardless of your initial reluctance. Your outright refusal to partake in the night and the eternity it promised. Until you couldn't resist its call. Crawling to the whispered lure of the dark instead of staggering out into the morning light one last time like you had once promised yourself. But despite accepting your new family you've never completely been able to shake the guilt that comes with killing. Even though it's done purely out of self-preservation - at least on your part. 

So, sometimes you do drag out the flirty exchanges between the oblivious men at the bars. The men who come to unwind after a grueling day of work, the men who are just trying to escape the unrelenting weight of their lives, hoping to find reprieve at the bottom of a bottle; the men just out to chill with their buds and maybe get laid if they're lucky enough. People just living their lives. Diamond's always tried to reassure you in her own motherly yet blunt way. Tough love. "They're dead men whether you eat 'em or not.  They died as soon as we stepped foot in this place. No reason to go hungry, honey." 

Just a fact. But a hard pill to swallow regardless. They would be killed even if you weren't the one to eat them and so just like Diamond back said, you might as well as feed. They'd be bodies in a burning building either way. 

But the fact that Severen noticed and didn't pull on your hypothetical pigtails but opted to help you in his own crude, silent way instead. It had your chest warming like the morning sun was going to burst out of you. Perhaps some would see it as a small gesture. But coming for Severen, the guy who you had convinced yourself (well, not convinced- he was definitely more than on the fence about you when you were new and kicking and screaming) hated you, took your reluctance into account and decided to do something about it. Especially considering that he is the second eldest of the Hooker clan - apart from Jesse himself - and took to the bloodshed and violence like it was second nature. 

"Plus, they shouldn't have been puttin' they're hands on ya anyway. " You just barely manage to catch that little remark. Maybe you should be concerned about the happy little thrill it gives you, but you aren't. Instead, you pull him closer by the ornate lapels of his jacket until your chests are pressed together, smoothing your hands up until they meet skin. And a part of you silently mourns how the once gnarled mark on his neck has begun to seal closed, now a faint set of scars underneath a coat of smeared crimson. And you're a bit tempted to give him another. 

But you're too transfixed on the soft baby blues studying your face to try. "Thank you, " you responded with a smile, toying with the inky strands that collect at the nap of his neck. "We both seriously could have pulled our heads out of our asses, but seriously . . . Thank you." 

" Don' mention it. " He replies, a bit of mischief shifts through the sugar in his gaze. His smile turning from relaxed and sweet to quirking up a bit too sharply at the corners.  " . . . Kitten." 

"Don't start with that, " you warn, nose crinkling at the old nickname. "I'm serious." 

"Alright, twist my arm why don't cha, " he grumbles like he's annoyed but he's nuzzling against the rise of your cheekbone playfully, nipping at your jaw. "I'll spare ya. For now." 

You look over to the little wall of dryers, skipping down the rows until you find the machine containing your clothes, now idle with the black material of your shirt peeking out over the circle rim of the door. It all comes in one after the other: The faint buzz of the florescent lights above, the metallic squealing of the fan in the corner, the dull grind of the sun still somewhere on the other side of the planet but growing closer with each passing second. The gravity of it finally dropping on your shoulders but all you can do is laugh into his chest. The both of you had sex in the grimy laundry room of some hole-in-the-wall hotel like a pair of horny teenagers. Jesus, you could have been caught. 

"What?" He asks, now stroking up and down your bare thighs like if he quit touching you it would kill him. 

"Did we seriously just fuck in a laundromat?" You question like you don't already know the answer, a disbelieving laugh trailing after your words. Then he's chuckling in that goofy, charming way of his. "Better strike it off the ol' bucket list. " 

You swat him on the arm like you mean to scold him, but it does nothing to quell the little puffs of laughter that hiccup from his chest. Not that you want it to. "Have a list, do you?" 

"Oh, you have no idea, darlin.' " His voice is lowering in that sinful pitch again and it has a bit of heat pooling in your abdomen. " I could go on and on talkin' but we'd be here for weeks. 'Sides, I'd much rather show you." 

"As much as I'd love to take this table for another spin, I think we should save the fun for another time." You unlock your legs from their loose hold around his waist, allowing him to finally move back. You hiss lightly at the drag of his soft cock slipping free from your sensitive walls, a trail of cum pouring down your thigh. You nearly cringe at the feeling and now that you're no longer distracted by the haze of sex it finally sets in how disgusting you are again, smeared in blood and cum. Looks like another show is in order. The two of you are quiet while you straighten yourselves out, simply enjoying each other's presence. Severen tucks himself back into his jeans, securing his belt while you reach down to thread your foot through the dangling sleeve of your pant leg. You hop down from the table to work them over your hips but seriously underestimate how wobbly the relaxed and used muscles of your body are. Your knees shake and you have the fleeting thought that you might just crumple to the floor, but then a set of sturdy arms are looped around you, securing you to an equally firm chest. 

"Like a newborn fawn," he quips, oozing ego and smoky satisfaction. Jesus, he is going to become unbearable with that self-assured bravado. He's already dangerously cocky, walking around like the world spins for his entertainment alone but now that he's successfully blown your back out, you're never going to hear the end of it. 

"Oh, shut it. " But you smile regardless and the feel of the cold tiled floor underneath the thin material of your sock reminds you that he threw your left shoe somewhere in your mindless scramble to get to each other. 

"Well, speakin' of time, we've got a couple more hours a' dark." He says drawing your attention from its light search of the floor. " Wanna go kick up some trouble? Bust a couple headlights? Scare some drunks?" The grin on his face is boyish, displaying the charming gap between his teeth. And the excitement radiating from him is infectious, practically vibrating where he stands from all the chaotic possibilities running amok inside his head. No doubt ideas of burning buildings, of shooting fireworks into the night; of speeding down quiet desert roads in stolen cars, blaring music and howling into the air. Forever is a long time. And although you've only gotten a taste of it, of the long sleepless nights ushered by a devilish primal hunger that guides you to the steady pulsing heartbeats of lonely, unassuming people, you were never sure how much eternity you were willing to take. Would you finally crack after a decade of dodging the sun? Tired of taking cover inside seedy motel rooms and taping tinfoil to the windows of some unfortunate strangers' truck? Would it be fifteen years? Twenty? A century? Or maybe by then you'll be a completely different person who will scold the current version of yourself for not fully embracing the dark and all of its gifts. Maybe she'll be able to cut down her prey with the same deadly indifference, the same wild joy that the others do. Maybe one day you'll bathe in the blood of your prey instead of flinching from it before you regretfully gulp down the metallic nectar. You can't say for certain. Now that Severen's at your side it doesn't just null and void all of your fears and internal struggles for the present and future. But it helps to know that you have someone to lean on, even though he can't personally relate to most of your struggles. To have someone with you on your walk through eternity. And now that you think about it, you wouldn't want it to be anyone else. You can't imagine spending the rest of your time on earth with anyone other than the devious violent cowboy standing in front of you. His eyes lit up like a fresh blue morning sky, staring at you like you hung up the moon and set the stares alight. It's a look you've seen before out of the corners of your eyes. Too foolish to correctly recognize it, often presuming that he was looking at you to be rude. Mistaking the intensity in his gaze for annoyance. But now you melt under it, threading your fingers between his and squeezing his hand in a reassuring grip. Maybe forever wouldn't be such a long time after all. "There's nothing I'd love more." 

" . . . but first you need to find my damned shoe." 

#Severen x reader #severen van sickle #near dark #near dark x reader #vampire #slasher x reader #severen van sickle x reader

[gffa]

I was wondering if you could share your thoughts and feelings on Felonys takes over the years overall? I know a lot of people see him as this grand savior of star wars without much more to it so I wanted to hear your take on how he handles the pre-established world he writes for and the dissonance with what George Lucas established/said before

Honestly, I think a lot of Felony's appeal is that he writes a very polished story and that's appealing to audiences (no shade, I'm part of that audience!) and that he has at least given some thought to what the Force means. There are a lot of takes he has that I agree with, I still quote what he says about the characters at times, but I think he has a big central problem and that's characterization drift-slash-the inability to let go. Well, two big central problems: He also can't write/finish a narrative arc to a satisfying conclusion. I have such a hard time getting into the Mandalorian storyline because it's been told in snippets for like 10+ years now and it's never really coherently come together, it still has huge gaps in it, it doesn't have a strong narrative central theme that he sticks to, but instead told through cameos and mini-arcs in separate shows. And when you examine a lot of his work, it often doesn't hold up to scrutiny because I'm not sure he has a solid thematic throughline that's driving him--like, some of the choices he made in season 7 of TCW are baffling--Ahsoka walks right by people who need her help, then says, "In my life, when someone needs help, I help them."??? When she wants the Jedi to help Mandalore instead of Coruscant, she says the Jedi aren't helping the people who really need them, despite that Coruscant is under attack and that's where Trace and Rafa are, the characters we just spent an entire arc on?? Ahsoka and Bo-Katan want the Republic to literally invade Mandalore, this is brought up in the arc itself, and then never mentioned again because it's inconvenient and the author doesn't want to deal with the established worldbuilding?? I also don't think he knows how to end a story, like I love Ahsoka as a character, but he very much does favor her and a lot of her appearances are starting to feel like she's only there because Filoni can't resist. She just never ends, there's no conclusion to her, what's even her character arc over the course of her life after the Jedi genocide? She's obviously dealing with trauma about it and now she's looking for Ezra to find him again, but what's the character arc on a personal level? Is she still dealing with letting go of Anakin, ~30 years after it happened? Did she not put that to rest in Rebels finally? @david-talks-sw has a great post about the differences between George Lucas and Dave Filoni here, illustrating that I do think Dave misses some really key points about characters that he has personal biases against. And, you know, I'm not getting after him for that, I disagree with him and I think he's wrong about a lot of stuff that Lucas directly established, but I also think a lot of people dismiss criticism of him because, oh, he worked with George and therefore he's an extension of George! No, he's a different writer with his own strengths and weaknesses, one I think who makes very popular (often for a reason) Star Wars, but I think misses the heart a lot of times. But I also often think of that he doesn't try to see himself as the grand lord of Star Wars, either, even he himself says:

He's not the ultimate authority on Star Wars, he's just as fallible as anyone else is, and always should be. I think he made Star Wars shows that a lot of people loved, he has a very polished style, and he has given thought to the characters he loves. He just also has biases and directly conflicts with George Lucas' established story and I think that's fair to point out. Maybe you like those better, I'm not trying to talk anyone out of that, but it's still fair game for me to point out that I think he's wrong about Star Wars just as often as he's right. (And that, as time goes on and The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett became more and more of a hot mess, I grew less charitable. This is a major overview, I don't want to get too into the weeds on this, I've gone over a lot it in past meta, and it would be exhausting to dig it all up again, but basically this is why I'm on the fence about Felony. He has a lot of weaknesses as a writer and I don't find I like his strengths more than I dislike his weaknesses sometimes.)

#dave filoni #lumi.txt #i realize you probably want more detail than this #but i cannot stress enough how unproductive that seems to me #because i would spend hours combing through my posts about his arcs #or commentary he's said #and be annoyed all over again #because it's not fun to dig into things that frustrate me #and i don't think i'm going to convince anyone to change their mind

[aihoshiino]

I honestly liked ruby a lot before. How she was so full of hope and all, then the character development she got after finding gorou's body. Even the recent part where she says she won't be like Ai and won't give up on her friends. But I think all the incest and related part ruins her character and reduces her to a simp. At least show some depth in it tho😭 like before whenever ruby talked about gorou that felt impactful. Man i miss the old ruby.

YEAH!!! This is pretty much exactly my issue as well. I know something a lot of folks have criticized about the story pre-Mainstay is that Ruby lacks development but TBH, I never really felt like Old!Ruby was a character who needed a more active arc in the way characters like Aqua and Kana did. She definitely had some Big Overhanging Issues dangling above her head that she was going to have to address eventually but on a moment to moment basis, Ruby was doing really well. She functioned best as a sort of guiding star for the characters around her, pulling them along through the force of her own positive energy and personality.

A big part of this is simply that a lot of the things that made Sarina's life miserable are not actually issues for Ruby anymore. She's healthy, she's surrounded by family and friends who love and support her, she's getting to pursue her dream and even has a pretty healthy relationship with her memories of and grief for Ai. That's not to say her history as Sarina has no effect on her, of course: her bull-headed stubbornness and willingness to charge on into things no questions asked comes specifically and explicitly from the ways she was disempowered and lacking agency in her past life and moments like her getting upset about Aqua no longer eating dinner with them on Sundays during the LoveNow filming pretty clearly stem from her issues with abandonment and lacking familial care. But her environment and the support system she has as Ruby very clearly did a lot to help her organically heal and start moving on.

New!Ruby really feels like a retcon in that regard, like Akasaka suddenly scrabbled to go "oh actually Ruby was ALWAYS secretly fucked up!!!!" for the sake of drama and ramped everything about her up to an 11 to try and convey this but the end result ultimately just feels inconsistent. I know I link this post basically every time I talk about Ruby these days, but @all-of-her-light's Ruby and the Unplayed Role essay really is the best at breaking down all these differences and inconsistencies and why it is they feel so jarring. But one of the things that stands out to me is the ramping up of the intensity of her feelings for Gorou.

Some of this makes perfect sense within the context of the narrative; finding his DESSICATED FUCKING SKELETON jesus CHRIST and realising he'd been murdered by the very same person who killed her beloved mother absolutely makes sense as the impetus for her feelings to go into overdrive. But as of the Mainstay arc onwards, we have continually gotten backfill that implies she has always been operating on this level of intensity, elevating Gorou to a position of importance in her life that matches or even exceeds Ai to a degree that feels retconny.

Actually, now that I've articulated that, I think that key difference is the core of what makes Old and New Ruby feel so split to me. Old Ruby absolutely still adored and deeply valued Gorou and wanted to be reunited with him, but she was nowhere near as emotionally dependant on the idea of him as New Ruby seems to be. Old Ruby was characterized much more strongly in relation to Ai, both in the sense of love for her as her mother and her legacy as an idol and while this is still true to a degree for New Ruby, the manga frames Gorou as being just as if not more important than Ai as a factor in Ruby's motivations for becoming an idol, when it really hadn't been framed that way prior to a certain point in the manga.

Ultimately, it's just kind of frustrating. Like you, I really loved Old Ruby and I think New Ruby is just kind of a flanderized and flattened version of her - though the story pays some lip service to her uglier and more complicated emotions, the story's failure to genuinely and seriously interrogate them and its consistency in reducing her to a gag character just makes her feel so much less lively and interesting that Old Ruby, even if Old Ruby was (at least on paper) a much more simple character. It really feels like the last time the story genuinely took Ruby seriously was prior to 123 when we were getting teased with the idea of her meeting Marina again but that thread has since been completely dropped and I'll be shocked if it gets so much as mentioned again.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk asks #onk spoilers #ruby hoshino

[ceruleanwhore]

Aang As a Father, in Response to LoK

⚠️CAUTION⚠️

This post is full of Aang and kataang hate. If you like Aang and/or ship kataang in any capacity, scroll on for the sake of your mental and emotional wellbeing. Thank you!

When Avatar: Legend of Korra came out, I remember there being tons of discussion around how much Aang sucked as a father and how surprised everyone was, even some of us who never really liked him as a character. However, I’ve been thinking about it today, and the conclusion I’ve reached is that not only is it not surprising that Aang was not a very good parent, but it was inevitable. The one thing I disagree on that I’ll get to at some point in here is how he sucked at parenting in canon as opposed to how I think he was set up to fail at it given the direction he was headed with his canon characterization.

I’d like to start by getting into that characterization and discussing some of the elements of Aang’s canon personality that I think are relevant. In the series, yes, as we all know and as Aang stans love to point out ad nauseum, he’s just a mere bitty child, but we can also see some of his flaws that, even in his 12-year-old self, have some serious consequences at times. Canon Aang is a messy cocktail of toxic positivity, selfishness, avoidant tendencies, impulsivity, and a dangerous lack of emotional control. He does things like casually throw away the fate of the whole world over his god-given right to have a crush on a girl and then, in the next season, compare that same girl’s experience of losing her mother to his radically different experience of losing his pet for a couple weeks as he tells her to get over it. He also has a tendency to go into the freaking avatar state when he’s upset about something and cause serious damage to everything around him until Mommy calms him down. Even when he doesn’t go into the avatar state, he does things like verbally abuse his friends and abandon them in the desert when Appa goes missing.

All of this is completely relevant to who a hypothetical adult Aang would be and what he’d be like because, all throughout the series, there is never any accountability from Aang. He literally never takes responsibility for the things he does and makes amends or even just apologizes in a meaningful way because he never has to — the narrative makes sure of that. That’s the key part of Aang’s flaws, that Bryke genuinely thought they made a perfect good guy and had nary a crumb of self awareness that they accidentally made him a raging asshole who is constantly being rewarded for his shitty behavior. Even when he’s clearly in the wrong, like with the Bato situation in s1, they somehow turn it around so yeah, I guess he fesses up and apologizes but, at the end of the episode, Sokka and Katara are apologizing to him and there’s no lasting consequences for the shitty thing he did. Because of this crucial element of the story and Aang’s character, it is very likely that he’d go his whole life being a dickhead while continuing to never have consequences for that and somehow managing to maintain his friendships and relationship with Katara.

I want to kind of go through these one at a time, starting with the lack of accountability. Since Aang is the avatar, literally no one in the whole world of atla actually has authority over him, at least once he’s an adult. His peers are his equals but, even though Katara, Toph, and Zuko taught him his bending, they don’t really have any tangible authority over him as his teachers. Combine that with the fact that none of Aang’s friends really ever criticize him or hold him accountable for his actions and it becomes very clear that, as a father, he will never actually be held accountable for being a bad parent. What goes with this is that he also won’t be open to advice because he assumes he always knows best and the narrative also supports and rewards that. Between the two, he’s set up so that when he inevitably turns out to be a lousy father, there will be nothing anyone can say (assuming they would even say anything at all) to help him improve.

With this in mind, let’s start into the actual character flaws that, as concluded above, won’t be corrected at any point, starting with the toxic positivity. One of Aang’s most recognizable characteristics is his bright, cheery disposition which can be a good thing but also leads to him being very dismissive of anyone else’s problems or negative emotions. As a parent, he would never take his children’s problems seriously and would simply brush them off and tell his kids to practice detachment and just let go of whatever is bothering them, regardless of how serious the issue is or how much it matters to the kid. This will teach the kids both not to even try to bring their problems to at least one of their parents and also that any problem they have is actually inconsequential, so even when they do have really big, serious issues in life, they won’t be able to recognize it as such and get whatever help they might need. It also will convey to them that their own father just doesn’t really care about them, at least not enough to engage with them in any capacity about anything serious.

Next up is Aang’s selfishness. Throughout atla, we see time and time again that Aang struggles greatly with prioritizing literally anyone else over his own comfort and desires. He was more than willing to sacrifice the whole world for his ability to avoid having to engage in conflict and then, in season 2, he showed that he was 100% willing to sacrifice the whole world for his crush on Katara. It’s not just that he tends to thoughtlessly give into his impulses and desires without giving thought to how it affects others, it’s also that, because of who he is, that has the potential to cause immense damage and he still doesn’t care. As a father, he would always put himself before his wife and his children. He would treat Katara at least as badly and unfairly as he did in canon and his children would have the lovely experience of watching that and also growing up in a household where their wants and needs don’t really matter to their own father.

Another key factor when it comes to Aang’s personality is his avoidant tendencies. We see multiple times throughout the series just how far he’ll go to avoid doing things he doesn’t want to do, like preventing the world from complete destruction. In his household, I imagine he’d want no part of any of the real, ‘messy’ aspects of parenthood and would just have Katara do all those things. Anything to do with the mess of child care (changing diapers, cleaning up spit up, any sort of wound care for scraped knees, etc.), conflict resolution between quarreling siblings, or correction of misbehavior would fall to her. He, like plenty of real men, would only want to do the cute, fun parts of parenthood, like taking the kids to Disney, while making Mom the ‘bad guy’ who has to do all the real work. 

Then there’s also the impulsivity. Aang tends to get these ideas of things he wants to do and then, without any further thought, just goes and does them. This can be pretty harmless when it’s something like wanting to go penguin sledding and then going off and doing it but, as we’ve seen, there’s plenty of times where it isn’t, like when he hides Hakoda’s correspondence from Katara and Sokka in s1 because he’s feeling pissy. In parenthood, I think this is where we ended up with the unfair treatment showed in LoK because it’s his impulsivity driving it, but I don’t actually think he’d be out here treating his kids differently based on bending abilities, I think they’d all be pretty equally getting the short end of the stick from him. 

The way I see his impulsivity coming out with his family is either with grabbing the kids to go do something on a whim (like riding the elephant koi) or going off on his own or with Katara on some spur of the moment trip that leaves their kids alone or drags them away from home for weeks at a time with no notice. If they’d leave the kids alone while going off without them, that could lead to trauma around neglect and abandonment while, if they take the kids with them, the kids get stuck being dragged along and then ignored while Aang goes off to do all the stuff he’s there for that the kids weren’t really ever supposed to actually be part of. I think that, with stuff like this, the avoidance, and the toxic positivity, he’d think that he’s setting himself up to be the cool, fun dad with Katara being made out to be the ‘bad guy’ when, in truth, he’s out here fucking up his children and they’re going to know and hate him for it in the end.

The last part is the matter of his inability to regulate his emotions. It’s bad enough for anyone to have to sit there and watch as the same toxic positivity dickhead then struggles with anger issues he never even so much as apologizes for, but for his kids, I’m sure it’s unbearable. My dad has struggled with anger issues my whole life, as have I, but we take responsibility and we’ve both spent over two decades working on ourselves, trying to get better. Aang would never do that in any capacity. For his children, they’d get this environment where they can never be upset at all because it bothers Dad but then Dad can fly off into the fucking avatar state as soon as he’s even mildly inconvenienced. This model of ‘you being upset is just a little inconvenience you need to get over but when Dad’s upset it’s a huge deal and he’s actually allowed to be upset’ would be downright infuriating to live with and would definitely contribute to their children’s childhood trauma. It’s not just that you’re not allowed to be upset, it’s also that you always have to be walking on eggshells trying not to set this guy off.

Another thing I would add to this last point is something I learned from my family that I think is relevant here. My dad genuinely thought he was totally normal and didn’t have any anger issues until my brother and I were born, and he also was always really great with other people’s kids and never had problems there until he was working on the railroad with two babies at home. Yes, we’ve already seen Aang’s anger issues in canon, but I would also speculate that his mood and stuff would get worse once Tenzin’s born. This could either lead to him being absent for most of the kids’ early childhoods as he’d just avoid being around them if they’re triggering him or his anger issues could get worse and more prevalent once there’s kids in the mix. Either would be detrimental to his children’s mental health.

So I guess my point here is that LoK having it so Aang’s whole issue with fatherhood is that he treated his kids unequally doesn’t really cover the ways in which he’s set up to be a terrible father. I really don’t think favortism would even be an issue (I think all 3 kids would get dragged around to air nomad stuff, not just Tenzin) but Lord knows there’s other issues to be considered here. As a father, Aang would be selfish, impulsive, dismissive, thoughtless, and hypocritical as well as probably struggling with completely unchecked anger issues. His children would have trauma because of him and they would hate him, but not because he would leave two behind while dragging the eldest around on vacations. The cherry on top of the shit sundae of Aang’s fatherhood is that he would have no self awareness whatsoever as all of this would go unchecked by his wife and friends, so he would genuinely believe that he’s a good, fun, loving father all the way up to the moment of his death.

#anti aang #aang critical #aang slander #aang salt #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #a:tla #avatar meta #atla meta

[adamworu]

Hi, what do you think of the Anime!Kaworu (not manga or Rebuild) analysis called 'Kaworu Nagisa, Ángel del amor y el libre albedrío. Diseccionando a los Ángeles (última parte)' by MistralChronicles?, has English subtitles.

I finally gave it a look after being inundated with life stuff (forgive me for taking long on this) and wow! If you're a Kaworu fan looking for some really indepth analysis your cup will truly runneth over on this one.

Let me start by saying that this lengthy analysis works because it doesn't go deep into his characterization under the assumption that the viewer already knows. It's all conveniently wrapped in one video. For those that already do know, this video acts as an excellent refresher, given how expansive Evangelion's lore is.

(warning for abuse mention)

The first thing that stands out to me in this 2 hour analysis, aside from thoroughly research on Eva's production history is the noted rearranging of Kaworu's surname as Shisha. Shisha means messenger (You'll notice the term Saigo Shisha to refer to the angels in Eva) while also pertaining to death.

This also works well with MOVIC's assigning of Kaworu to the Death Tarot Card.

One door closes and another opens. Kaworu dies and he understands that he is the Last Messenger. In so doing, he ensures humanity's welfare in the process.

I love loved that MC (I'll be abbreviated Mistral Chronicles as MC in this analysis) talked of Draftworu and the scars. I wouldn't call those suicide attempts but I would call those self-harm. That's not to say that Draft iteration Kaworu didn't hold ideas relating to suicide.

MC notes that Kaworu and Shinji's excellent chemistry. Kaworu is more bright and outgoing whereas Shinji is more neutral. This manifests in their shirts: orange and blue, respectively, because they compliment each other.

I think my one pet peeve (even less, actually, just something pointed out) through this analysis however is that Kaworu is directly called Adam. Kaworu's existence as Adam is by proxy. Meaning that because Adam's soul is within him, he's Adam that way rather than being some physical iteration.

Kaworu was meant to be so good that his nature alone would be enough to give Shinji an inferiority complex. MC makes the excellent point that because Kaworu's appearance had to be truncated to one episode, we only ever see not the complex, but rather Shinji's idealization of Kaworu.

I think about this fact a lot. How, even though Kaworu accepts Shinji for who he is, there's a pushback in parts of Eva communities that assumes bad faith on Kaworu's end. It drives me up a wall every so often due to exactly where the bad faith comes from. There's also a part of me that understands that total acceptance and unconditional love aren't impossible manifestations. Out there, there is someone who appreciates and is so in love with you in all ways. We're so used to being around people trying to change key aspects of us rather than trying to comprehend us at our very cores. It makes the words 'I love you' feel all the more surreal. Genuine, unrelenting love for who you are feels like a shock to the system.

(Also small sidebar before we move on: MC goes into how Kaworu can fenagle with Unit-02 despite the non-reconfigured soul. When she says 'he can control a body that is his own' she's referring to the fact that Kaworu, being an angel, is comprised of particle wave matter)

Kaworu has Shinji's support. Anywhere can be paradise. Shinji is his home.

MC points out something that often goes missed by some groups: Kaworu's existence is ultimately integral to Evangelion. Not just to Shinji. Kaworu's status as the Angel of Free Will is an ironic one of sorts. Other angels which preceded him desired to understand more of their lilin 'neighbors', so why then, is Kaworu aligned with such a moniker?

Kaworu's kindness, or his sacrifice to humanity, allowed them that free will. Another reading that I have alongside the aforementioned is that Kaworu's action shows the unsettlingly paradoxical nature of free will; that your freedom exists because someone allowed it for you.

The video also goes on to point out that Kaworu doesn't overstep boundaries (i.e. the bath scene). He thinks that Shinji wants to go with him out of the bath. He doesn't really pry. He's not fully attuned to Shinji's culture to understand why there'd be aversion with acts of sudden closeness. That's not to say that Shinji was grossed out by Kaworu (which he wasn't), but that Shinji's aversion comes from a place of fear from being hurt again.

Now onto Netflix's translation.

MC transitions into the Netflix translation and how it danced around 'It means I love you.' Debates about translation are sometimes had pertaining to this scene. You'll often see people argue about how in the Japanese version 'koui/koi' is purely platonic in nature. Given the actual context with the scene as well as the symbolisms that carry later in in End of Evangelion, this is of course far from the truth. The word is a pun which is doesn't carry well outside the language. The words 'koi' and 'suki' are indeed romantic, and EOE doesn't stand as the only example. The drafts debunk any perception of Kaworu and Shinji's relationship being that of 'just friends.' MC also adds more: that Anno gave the drafts to someone who was versed in writing boys love.

The erasure in the translations was justified via 'Evangelion is an ambiguous work.' Correction: Evangelion's moral to the viewer is ambiguous. The characters have been talked about in supplementary material. That isn't ambiguous.

This snippet here also debunks the platonic angle. When the characters are shown top-down in bed in certain parts of the series, there's some adversity or lack of communication. Shinji thinks of Asuka as only a child (something about glass houses and throwing stones). Asuka did share the sheets with Hikari, though faced away because she felt too vulnerable. But Shinji and Kaworu? They're clicking so much that Shinji divulges to Kaworu about his life prior to the events of Eva. Kaworu offers to sleep on the floor rather than Shinji but Shinji prefers the floor. Shinji catches himself being vulnerable but never backpedals or fronts about his life. At that moment, he was vulnerable with the right person.

Kaworu's such a surreal character in the world of Evangelion because he doesn't really ask anything. He's kind, but far from perfect. But he feels almost immaculate because Evangelion's world comes across to many viewers as cynical. People are often cold and get away with proverbial murder. None of us can understand each other fully because our boundaries not only protect us, but impede us. Fear drives us to be alive but also stunt current relationships while condemning future ones.

The lake scene is brought up in the video analysis in that it makes little to no sense. It's just...weird to think about.

Kaworu's donor is brought up here, though I wouldn't go so far as to say that they 'gave a body.' During the Director's Cut of episode 21, it's stated that Kaworu's conception came about as a Contact Experiment. DNA 'dove' into the flesh of Adam, awakening them. It could have been anything.

Since we're talking of enigmatic lore of Eva, 'clone' is a sort of loose term here. Both of the 'cloned' individuals may have the slight features of their donors, but not by much. Their complexions are pale, nearly calling to mind someone with albinism. Why is it that both of these experiments end in these features?

Love that MC points this out.

Shinji's on the warpath with angels not because of his contempt, but he seeks validation. Then Kaworu comes along, gives him that validation without condition. There's no ulterior motive for his kindness. He loves Shinji for all his flaws.

Shinji's ire for Kaworu's reveal is a front. He's not angry at Kaworu for his status. His forced to fight between two sources of validation, those around him most or Kaworu. Shinji doesn't want to be forced with the troubling revelation that his fight against the angels isn't genuine. This is further reinforced in episode 25 in which he doubles down.

Kaworu explains the AT field, how integral it is to understanding others (and outside to the viewer, important to the plot). The deployment of boundaries can protect you but in the same vein hurt others. MC points out that Unit-02 stabbing 01 is metaphorical, and a clever subtlety at that. The progression knife is inserted in the left side of the Evangelion, where the heart is.

He utters 'Human hope is made from sorrow.' From despair, joy arises. Kaworu realizes that his merging with Adam (biological desire, not moral) would spell annihilation for the whole of mankind and its hopes. As the last of his kind, the onus lies on him to cause a freedom of one species to inherit Earth while the other perishes.

It's also why Ode to Joy is synonymous with Kaworu.

It is why he is the Angel of Free Will.

Take the AT Field's usage into consideration. It can be used to protect, hurt, overstep, or even temporarily shut oneself off from the pains of the world. These are used to navigate the circumstances around you, and this truth implicates the angels, given they're as complex as humanity.

Thus, the larger deployment of Kaworu's AT Field is made clear. Blood stains his hands, regardless of outcome.

On this end, humans do have AT Fields but lack the physiology to deploy them physically. The Fields are instead metaphorical. They exist as veneers of a person, avoidance of an issue, among other things.

Kaworu's designation as the first and last angel is pointed out. This not only goes for the series but also the Rebuilds as well and it works thematically. Kaworu's the 13th angel in Rebuilds and this is juxtaposed in FINAL with Unit 01 as well as 13. 01 in FINAL is considered Hope whereas 13 is considered Despair. Before Kaworu's 'demotion' he was hopeful in that he would be able to save the world without mass death on his head. When realizing he was set up when Shinji retrieves the spears in Rebuilds, he becomes the 13th. In the original this manifests as Kaworu feeling hopeful that he found someone who finally understood him. Someone whom he could love and laugh with. 'Human hope is made of sorrow.' has even more depth, when the above is considered added with Kaworu's empathetic nature. He understands the needs of man, because he feels this way too.

Kaworu feels hope when being around Shinji (Also makes 'I may have been born to meet you' more wholesome) but a sense of sorrow knowing his mission.

He becomes desperate, understanding that if man were to live, he'd need to die.

This is probably the only part I strongly disagree with. One of the biggest horrors of Evangelion is that people do take from others (and they often get away with murder). The cast heaps baggage on each other, or neglects them unless a situation comes in which benefits them. It's not a nihilist bent that Eva goes on, because it'd contradict that anywhere could be paradise. It highlights that humanity is ugly without going into a 'so get over it' angle. Eva highlights that realities are often ugly, but hardly defeatist or smugly pessimistic.

Kaworu's likened to Rei in their sad realities. He sets up to become something larger, but the reasons differ. Kaworu does humanity a kindness of his own accord. Rei? Becomes a mother figure simply because her whole existence of a man's unhealthy coping mechanisms. She is conditioned, start to finish to be a mother. Even though she understands more of her identity thanks to Kaworu, her tragedy is that she doesn't know how not to be anything maternal. Kaworu's kindness is his own and his tragedy derives in knowing the cycle but being a slave to it. His ultimate tragedy is that, for how powerful he is, he's still susceptible to unhealthy cycles, forced to play out that role until it is broken.

It's pointed out that Shinji's depressive spiral goes deeper with Kaworu's death and not just because of the event itself. 'Death is the only freedom.' are chilling words from a boy who could not control his existence but could control his death. This makes the likening of Kaworu to Shinji all the more tragic. Much of Shinji's life was rife with neglect up until this point. Then he had to get rid of a genuine source of validation.

The love of Kaworu and Shinji is mutual. MC dives into misconceptions of how Kaworu and Shinji's relationship is platonic because it lacks the suggestive closeups of Misato, Rei, and Asuka (it's own can of worms). EOE debunks the platonic bent as well the Rebuilds with the numerous references. There's even a heart shaped tree where Shinji and Kaworu play Quatre Mains!

Anno even states Kaworu as an idealized other.

Kaworu's proxy status as a father and mother is noted. While Anno uses chichi (father) as a designation for Adam, Kaworu uses hahataru sonzai for Our Mother. This explains why Kaworu stands as judge over Gendo alongside Rei and Yui. This latter of the designations makes sense, given Adam's status as the progenitor for angels.

Kaworu's status as integral to the plot of Eva is especially solidified during Instrumentality. Rei and Kaworu represent the desire to understand the world around and unconditional love, respectively. He, along with Rei, teaches Shinji that if he were to come back physically, AT Fields would exist once more. Pain would exist. People would not know each other fully. And Shinji allows that for mankind, even after knowing this revelation.'

People like Rei and Kaworu can exist, however. But in our lives, our sometimes unforgiving realities, people like that are rare. There are people that love you for being you. There are people that want to comprehend the complexities the world hands us. I hope that one day, you find both.

That we all find both. That too, is why anywhere can be paradise as long as you have that will to live.

All in all, I loved MC's meticulous dissection of Kaworu's character. It's a welcome addition and it was easy to follow along through all of it. I recommend watching it for anyone reading this who has the time. It's some of the most indepth Kaworu analysis i'd seen in the years I'd been in this fandom and I thank MC for the write-up. And I thank you, anon, for redirecting me to this video dissertation.

#neon genesis evangelion #kaworu #kawoshin #shinji ikari #correct me if i'm wrong #abuse mention

[flamerunn3r]

Sorry this is unfinished but I need to post these now just bc idfk when i'm gonna actually finish the rest realistically. Idk it will happen eventually. For now heres the great p5u ramblings post detailing my thoughts designs

This is my own personal interpretations but is also somewhat speculative in nature. I'm mostly trying to deal in already established characterizations and epilogue set ups but there might be stuff I've missed or forgotten (i also haven't played dancing yet sorry if there's something in there I hadn't accounted for). This is kind of like if I took the creative reigns on the story where I'd continue for it. Only the investigation team for now (and 2 boss characters I have an idea for) but maybe I'll do the shadow ops at some point. Only 4 characters for now but I'll reblog with additions when I finish the rest or if I edit any of these

Yu Narukami

He's currently attending school as a journalism student in the city or just starting out as one. Enthusiastic about his field but still tries to find the time to keep up with his friends and visit Inaba on his holidays. I felt journalism made alot of sense for him with the themes of persona 4. I liked the sport jacket and turtleneck but wanted soemthing different so the scarf was chosen to keep the same kind of silhouette. I made the collar on the winter coat large and I feel like Narukami's large uniform collar is a key part of his design. and I wanted to call back to that in his casual outfit. The summer outfit I mostly kept close to his summer outfit from p4. I'm kind of unsure on it though I might come back to it. I mostly wanted to keep his outfits smart and simple. For his meta verse outfit I really wanted to go all out with the bancho (kingpin) stuff and other delinquent tropes. I lengthened the uniform coat a little because I wanted it to look like a tokko-fuku. Alot of smaller detail inspiration was taken from Izanagi. The lenses in the mask are supposed to mimic glasses. I'd imagine he'd take off the mask the same way he throws off his glasses in myriad truths.

Teddie

I can't imagine him leaving Inaba and the TV world behind. Still staying in town and working largely the same job. He's got his own place now albeit small (still a step up from the closet though). At some point the IT asked Mitsuru to pull some strings so he actually has a legal personhood now. The animal hoodie is something that came to me spontaneously but I knew I needed to include it. I really that his normal outfit in 4 keeps the white and red of the bear costume in the outfit so I tried to keep the colour scheme here too. Most of his later outfits are less flashy and more casual so I tried to continue that trend. I didn't want to lose the rose from the corsage completely so I included a rose pattern in the second shirt. Alot of his outfits feature light blue so I wanted that in at least one outfit. I considered making the hoodie light blue initially. I don't think he'd have a metaverse outfit he'd just use the bear costume.

Naoto Shirogane

I'm under the assumption Naoto is still presenting masculinely to the general public as of p5 but I may be mistaken in this. If I'm wrong I'd still probably largely keep the outfits similar to this. Naoto's still working as a detective and I don't think that's ever really going to change. One thing that a hypothetical p5u would have to address is what Naoto and the shadow ops would have been doing during the events of persona 5 and I unfortunately do not have any ideas for what that would be at the moment.

I feel alot of the appeal of Naoto's design is the kind of boy detective fashion. I went at this design with the intention of kind of refining that into something a little more adult while still keeping in a similar vein. I did have to ditch the pageboy hat unfortunately as I felt it made them look too young. These outfits were kind of design as pseudo work clothes which is why I tried to make them a bit more formal then the other characters. Something I consider notable about Naoto's design but deliberately avoided here was the rolled up pant legs. It's very obvious in 4 it's done because Naoto is short but I feel like Naoto would start getting that either custom made or tailored to fit. I was initially going to forgo the blazer on the summer outfit but the design felt empty without it. Naoto having a noir detective themed metaverse outfit is an idea I'd had for years but I tried to incorporate design elements that were princely. I alot of the inspiration was from Sam Spade specifically. Deliberately made similarities to Akechi's white crow design. The band around the hat is supposed to invoke the similar one on the old page boy hat.

Yukiko Amagi

Still working at her families in but is taking online courses during the off seasons. She's mostly happy where she is but is keeping her options open. Occasionally makes visits to other ryokans out of town for ideas for her families own inn, as well as an opportunity to for her to sight see.

The headband was included in her design in p4 as a like retro design thing but I find it too important of a marker of her design to remove it. I understand the why they went with the hairstyle they did for her golden epilogue but I feel it just ends up making her look way older then she is. I thought her having her hair up would be a nice change since she does it so rarely and settled on a ponytail. Tried changing the bangs but the ones she already had just felt right. I wanted her clothes to carry this kind of air of sophistication so I tried to keep them relatively simple and sleek. She's wearing pants in the winter outfit but I chose the longer coat to keep a similar skirt silhouette. The choker was largely inspired by the scarf she has in her winter outfit. Despite being a different colour the cardigan was also chosen to tie back somewhat to the sweater she wears with her school uniform.

In some side material it's mentioned that Yukiko has an interest in western fashion and aesthetics (part of what made the castle manifest the way it did) and I wanted to lean on that in some way for her metaverse design. I ended up going with a masquerade ball theme. I tried to keep the dress to something simple and easy to move in. The gloves and boots take inspiration from her persona in terms of design and size. I wanted to incorporate elements from her work kimono as well hence the ribbon around the torso and flower patterning. Probably the most unsure of this one of the metaverse designs so far. Especially the colours (considered making the reds pinks initially). Might revisit this one.

Ok that's all I have for now I'll probably do Rise's next 👍👍👍

#sorry these are of wildly varying quality i did them at completely disconnected times #i guess feel free to critique my ideas if you want but be nice pleaseeeeee #persona 4 #fine this can go in the main tags #also this took like 3 days to type up. i just proofread it but if theres something that makes no sense then oops my bad #ul

[bitchthefuck1]

you dont like Freddy as kaz?

I decided not to answer this until the show was cancelled bc I didn't want to risk getting dragged back into discourse for anything less, so sorry for the wait.

The short answer is no.

Some of those reasons are outside of his control (his age, the fact that he's not disabled, bad writing and dialogue, etc), but honestly even setting those aside, I just don't think he captures Kaz's physical presence very well. There's a level of intentional calculation and performance to everything that Kaz does that is just completely missing from Freddy Carter's version. This affect is a huge part of Kaz's characterization and what makes him him as opposed to every other morally ambiguous sad boy in fiction, to the point where even if they'd nailed everything else (and they absolutely did not), it still wouldn't feel like a good take on the character without it. Kaz is hugely defined by his sense of self control and how he performs himself and the identity he's created, and it's the kind of thing that would actually translate super well to the screen. It's what makes the moments where he's not in control or where the mask slips have so much impact, so without it the key elements to him that a huge part of his arc hinges on just aren't there. Any performance or adaptation that misses this just feels like it's missed the whole point of him.

#was wondering when id get the chance to talk about this and here we are #it just really doesn't hit and its the kind of thing that would be SO GOOD onscreen #like its one of the most interesting things about him as a character and i really dont see why someone would want to play him if not #for that #freddy carter #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #six of crows #asks

[drakeanddice]

Mausritter this week was light on adventuresome hijinks, truth be told. The Waywatchers have been away from their home in Fox Cross for a full week (rigorous timekeeping being a key pillar of Old School play, y’know) and the dangers and treasures of the world had them bending their feet back to their beginnings.

Dragging all the treasure their little mouse backs could carry, they spent the first hour of game night hiking from the southern extremity of The Patch to the very north, reminiscing about the things they missed most about home. Birch, being not just Team Dad but a consummate family mouse, told stories about his wife and nine children. Fennel reminisced about Grampus, the de facto lynchpin of Fox Cross’ Guild of Messengers, a gruff and vaguely put-upon iconoclast of the Patch’s erstwhile postal system. Bindi, thinking always with her stomach, wondered about the first marzipan of the season (made by Marni, Birch’s wife in their family shop) and how Chester, the retired sewer-guide who runs the Waystone Tavern was getting on.

And they all were excited to get their weekly stipend from Horatio, the town Aldermouse. Granted they were carrying more treasure than they could strictly carry, but it would be nice to have some pips in their pocket that they hadn’t had to drag out of the danger and darkness of the world beyond Fox Cross’ walls. Plus, they had plans for the spoils of their adventuring, already.

Mausritter leans into the old adventure game mechanic of treasure being experience; 1 Pip (the coin of the realm) equals 1 XP. But it does a neat thing where every 10 Pips invested in a community or spent charitably grants an additional XP. This cleverly encourages the PCs to—if you’ll excuse the terrible pun—buy in to the characters and factions that exist back in civilization, far away from the dangerous wilds. And so, financing improvements and business expansions and defenses and helping to fund the further goals of their communities is a way to advance their characters and overall shape the ongoing narrative of the world.

That’s good tech.

Anyhow, this episode was all about building a supporting cast that the players are excited to come and check in on again and again. So, Birch’s enormous family got screen time. Grampus the angry retired mail mouse got some screen time. Chester the anvuncular innkeeper got some screen time. Horatio, the harried bureaucrat Aldermouse got a little screen time.

But we also got:

-Thorne, the warhawk of a smith who was in the Regiments lo those many years ago and thinks that direct action against the problems brewing in the south is the only way to get things sorted, damned be the costs.

-Sweetgum, the local representative of the Dairybell Company who believes anything can be solved with careful application of Pips. Also, as long as problems are far away, they aren’t her problems.

-Berthold, the head of the Almondiers, the mice who tend the almond grove just north of town on the edge of the spooky Estate. He’s made of ghost stories and local legends.

-Lucretia, a caravan leader built more like a hamster than a mouse. She wears an enormous ruff and travels with a small band of adventurer mercenary-mice. She desperately wants to add the Waywatchers to her retinue.

-The Papas, five unconvincingly-disguised least weasels who run the Foxcross Ferry. They sneak in a low-country brogue and hide themselves under oilskin cloaks and nor’easters, but the fact that they were once part of a gang and are in hiding until they deem it safe to retrieve their ill-gotten gold is an open secret. One is on duty at all times. The others are engaged in a game of cards that has been going on for years. They are Tall Papa, Kind Papa, One-Eye Papa, Split Papa, and Wet Papa.

All in all, a cozy session with a goldmine of characterization and hinting at plots that could be coming down the pipeline. Next week, we’re taking the first pigeon out of town and back down to Swamp Farm to consult with the Speaker-for-Ghosts. Hopefully we’ll meet Tam down there and we’ll be back to adventure.

Sometimes a breather and a little bit of downtime is exactly what you need to get the pot back to boiling.

#writing #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg stuff #mausritter

[skaruresonic]

Do you have any opinion about this post? It proposes that a key element of Shadow's characterization is loyalty, and the reason portrayals like SA2, '06, TMOSTH and Prime are beloved is because Shadow is loyal to something (I would add Forces as well), while others like Boom and IDW fall flat because he's only in for himself.

(some of the tags, of course, are all "sega take notes, everyone gets it but you", which is funny for multiple reasons)

I want to agree with it more than I do. The way it's worded makes it difficult for me to be fully persuaded, because it seems to be missing something.

I feel like the post is a bit over reductive. It's already an exercise in futility to try to boil Shadow down to one or two traits because he contains multitudes, nuances, and subtleties; it'd be like distilling Eggman down to "evil scientist" and then ignoring all the ways in which his manchild behavior molds his character archetype.

The others have limits on their loyalty. Sonic will help you out, but he’s not gonna kill a man for you. Shadow will. He doesn’t have that limit. If you are Shadow’s friend and you need him to kill for you, he will do it. Period.

Idk maybe it's just me but something about this style of analysis rubs me the wrong way. When people make declarative, emotionally-loaded statements about the characters that Sound Good on paper but don't hold up to close scrutiny. If you're going to assert something this lofty, you need to provide concrete examples. When did Shadow kill for a friend in the games? When did he express the willingness? Can you give me an example?

also lmao "Sonic's not gonna kill a man for you," Sonic will absolutely kill a man if he fucks around and finds out While I agree with the overarching idea that loyalty can be an important part of his character, if we're talking post-ARK raid Shadow... You kind of have to be honest about the brand of loyalty he possesses, because his loyalty looks very different from Amy's or Tails'. It's a specific, hardwon type of loyalty. It's begrudging. It's that "Pssh, what? I don't care. Feelings are for wussies" kind of loyalty, if anything. Like, it took Rouge dragging his unconscious ass home, a three-day-long fever dream, and her twisting his arm just to get her to begrudgingly call her "ally." You know what I mean?

On the other hand, I disagree with the notion that an overt lack of loyalty inherently makes him unrecognizable, since self-determination is an arguably equally prominent part of his character. In ShTH, you're just as free to ignore the wishes of your partner characters and go your own way. Cue the Fleetwood Mac.

Framing it as though loyalty is the linchpin on which his character rests risks defining Shadow solely through his relationships with others. Note that I'm not necessarily saying his relationships aren't important, just that they're not the most important. Agency and the right to determine his own destiny are vital parts of his character as well. He didn't just tell Rouge "And I will fulfill my promise to Maria; that's the only thing that matters to me now" in SA2. He first told her "Even if my memories aren't real, it's still me, Shadow."

...I'm not sure why OP decided to include Archie and X in their analysis, considering Archie and X are dead and have no bearing on Game!Shadow's character. Not sure what's meant by Shadow being "loyal" to Amy in MoSTH, either; I don't really have context for that since I didn't play it. If I had to guess, however, methinks OP may be mistaking Shadow doing something kind for Amy for friendship or loyalty towards Amy. You can do kind things for others without necessarily being "ride or die" for them.

This is where the post really loses me. Shadow's backstory doesn't need to be expanded upon at this point in the series; they've already dedicated at least three games and a handful of adaptations to his tragic backstory. We don't need to keep returning to the same well again and again. Surely we can do better than to navel-gaze. And the reasons why "he's like this" ought to be clear to anyone who's played the games, since they're fairly self-evident.

"But what about pre-raid Shadow?" I hear someone inevitably ask. Well, yes, Shadow displays obvious loyalty toward Maria, Gerald, and the ARK as a whole, but certain ShTH endings notwithstanding, it's not a blind sacrificial devotion. Regardless of his loyalty, he exercises the agency not to act like a mindless weapon in the hands of his creator. He possesses reason and more importantly, uses it. He still has enough presence of mind to seek to undo "all the evil the Professor has created" in SA2.

Even before the trauma of the raid and Gerald's programming went and deeply mucked up his sense of self, he was preoccupied with notions of self and identity, for understandable reasons. He wasn't purely a lapdog for Maria or the researchers. I feel like swinging the pendulum in the polar opposite direction and saying "Shadow is defined chiefly via his dedication to others" because it swung too far into "Shadow is a hyper-macho jerk" territory isn't a balanced stance to take.

Like this post is arguing from a Watsonian perspective, as though IDW!Shadow's jerkassness indicates some sort of internal selfishness, when the Doylist "Shadow was just written like shit in the book" will suffice. Shadow has a character outside of his relationships to others, just as Sonic and Eggman do. He's quiet, introspective, and in all honesty, he comes out with some hard-hitting lines sometimes. "This is the final voice of the last war machine," anyone?

Sorry if this reply is all over the place, I'm just writing down thoughts as they occur to me lol. Feel free to add your two cents.

#asks

[missmaywemeetagain]

Dear Miss Madisyn,

What makes Elementary superior to the Cumberbatch Sherlock for you?

a fellow television enthusiast...

norah

PS X-Files was my first grown up appointment TV show....

My Darlin' Dearest Norah,

I want to preface this by saying I do like BBC Sherlock because I know there are some pretty intense camps out there on both sides and I don't want anyone coming for me lol. I definitely think there is room for both in the canon. I will also say it has been quite a while since I watched the BBC version, so make of that what you will...

However, I prefer Elementary for a few reasons:

One, while I think the highly stylistic "movie" sort of quality to the BBC version is interesting, it gives Sherlock this sort of superhero-esque quality that makes him so "other" it's hard to relate to him in any way. Like I think he's cool in an objective way, but I don't really like him much or find him very redeemable. And the attitude around him is kind of like, "Well, that's just Sherlock! He's just a brilliant asshole!" and it just...stays that way.

(Now don't get me wrong, I love all the actors in both versions for a multitude of different reasons! But the writing lends itself to highly different interpretations from an actor's perspective.)

I prefer the realism of Elementary more. I absolutely love the characterization of both Sherlock and Joan. They feel like dynamic, flawed but redeemable characters who are fleshed out in most every way. They learn and grow and change in crucial ways throughout the series. Sherlock's behavior and neurodivergency are explained but not used as cop-outs or excuses for his not-so-nice treatment of people. He faces very real consequences in his relationships because of it and because of his drug addiction, but the key difference is that he figures out he wants to do better, especially for the people he comes to care deeply for. He tries, in his weird Sherlock way, to connect, because he starts to realize that yes, he is brilliant, but his actions affect others, and that being totally alone is not all it's cracked up to be. And Joan is very much her own person who struggles with her own issues and relationships with people and with the direction she wants her life to go. She (unwillingly at first) learns these new things about how to look at the world and how to help people in a different way, and she doesn't take a backseat to Sherlock. After the first season, she becomes a true partner to him, not a sidekick, and I really appreciate that.

Part of it is there is just more time over 7 traditional seasons to explore character arc, versus the wonky "we put seasons out whenever it works for us" way of BBC. The nuances are much more developed over time in a more natural way for Elementary.

Not to mention that the gender-bending in Elementary is just *chef's kiss*. They did it so well, you'd hardly know it was any other way!

Back to character, I just think Johnny Lee Miller knocked that role completely out of the park. He was absolutely stunning in playing those subtle changes and emotional moments and showing Sherlock's growth over time. He was multi-dimensional and it made his growth heartbreaking and lovely. He should've won a million Emmy's for that performance. And honestly, as much as I like Benedict (and I do), I truly think Johnny is the better actor overall (side note--if you ever get a chance, watch both versions of the Frankenstein production that they did together for the National Theatre in London, where they switch roles, both playing the monster and Dr. F for different performances. It's brilliant! But I do think Johnny is much better as the monster. 😊) And Lucy Liu is just a badass and I love her, too, and the chemistry between them is just awesome. They play those comic moments so well, too.

And I'm not gonna lie, I'm 100% a Sherlock x Joan shipper, and the writing in Elementary was fantastic in this way, because it left it open enough for the audience to decide for themselves what kind of love we were dealing with there. But the shippy moments were soooo good, imo. You named a bee after me? We're just two people who love each other... Come ON. Beautiful. Fabulous. Fantastic. And the ending? I wept.

I also think Elementary dealt with the addiction piece much much much better. The realism of going to AA, dealing with the fallout of relationships, relapses, the ongoing challenge of always being an addict was just so much more poignant without being a crutch. Similar thoughts about how the neurodivergency and PTSD were handled.

Anyway, I could probably go on, but this is long enough already! TL;DR: I just think Elementary is better in all the ways: writing, acting, arcs, relationships...LOL

Thanks for the ask, my dearest!!

#might be time for a rewatch... #i love them so much #i really do #sherlock holmes #joan watson #joanlock #elementary cbs #not elvis related lol #ask #answered

[rinshiroufan]

An Analysis of Two Different (Yet Complementary) Endings: UBW in the VN and the Anime; and What They Mean

So I recently finished my re-watch of Ufotable’s unjustly maligned 2014-15 adaptation of Fate/stay night’s Unlimited Blade Works route; I thoroughly enjoyed myself, which wasn’t shocking at all—Rin/Shirou is only my favourite fictional relationship (not just romantic, but any kind of relationship). It did however induce to more thoroughly and exhaustively compare the anime original conclusion to the two’s story with the original ending as presented in the VN, if only because I suspect that a careful reading of the nuances of the characterization of both will yield some very fruitful results. It might seem a bit paradoxical at first, but I’ve come to find these two scenes while seen incredibly fondly by most Shirin shippers are in fact quite underappreciated—because there’s just so brilliant and intricate in the subtle ways in which they manage to weave in so much depth and substance into exceedingly simple and seemingly plain plot developments. They are insanely thematically rich, and people often are left far too dazzled and enchanted by the magic of the superficial writing that they miss the genius hidden beneath the surface.

We’ll start off with the comparatively simpler part of the analysis: the original conclusion to Rin and Shirou’s story.

The Ending in the VN

For the purposes of this analysis, I will be skipping all of the epilogue sans the final classroom scene; the reasoning is quite straightforward and should be readily obvious—most of what is of relevance to this analysis is basically confined solely to Rin and Shirou’s final conversation. This disclaimer might appear to be superfluous to some, but I decided to include solely due to my recognizing an asymmetry in the structure that I chose to employ herein—because the section posterior to this one will have to deal with comprehensively picking apart the entirety of episode 25 of the anime. There was a distinct possibility some readers might find the decision somewhat puzzling, so I think it would be no great harm to tell people what precisely they are getting into, though I consider the content itself will be perfectly sufficient in providing people with an understanding of the thought process behind it. So without further ado, let’s finally begin.

The crux of the conversation between Rin and Shirou that caps off UBW is her invitation to him to tag along with her to London as she goes to continue her training in becoming a proper magus—and Shirou’s reaction to her doing so. I will now post all of Shirou’s key internal monologues relating to the matter during his initial contemplation of the matter, omitting all of Rin’s elaborative comment interspersed throughout Shirou’s thoughts for comedic effect, in order to allow us to better understand what precisely the story is trying to communicate here.

She speaks casually, but I'm sure it's an amazing thing. …But London, huh? …That's certainly too far away. My father wasn't in the Magic Association. I'm just like him, and I don't like formal stuff.

[...]

…But I might be able to move there. I can start working more, study English, save up traveling and living expenses, and find a job over there…

[...]

No, no, let's say I am able to rent an apartment there. I don't know what kind of a place the Clock Tower is, but I'm sure Tohsaka will get even busier. …Then it should be better for me to go there after I become a proper magus by myself. Yeah, that sounds good. First of all, London isn't suited for me. I bet I'll faint if I go there and if it's filled with people like Kotomine———

It is at this point that Rin finally notices Shirou has wandered off in his thoughts and thus not paying attention to her—subsequently presenting what amounts to an ultimatum to him. But before we go into that, let us more carefully and studiously parse what we have been presented with here: a dialectic. A dialectic meant to represent Shirou’s inner conflict—an exceedingly minor and trifling conflict, no doubt!—between his ideological aversion and distaste for formal magecraft and the sorts of individuals drawn to it, and his curious desire to nonetheless follow Rin wherever she goes. For literary effect, the text chooses not to immediately explicitly reveal what might be behind this willingness to nonetheless move to London despite his misgiving, but anyone who has been paying even the tiniest bit of attention can easily deduce what might be the cause. Nevertheless, the story firmly establishes a key piece of information going forward—Shirou is not fond of the Mage’s Association. He would certainly not choose to associate himself with them of his own volition.

But now that we have the set-up, we are almost immediately greeted with the pay-off—the previously posted CG of Rin’s brilliant visage in an adorable hunched over position and adorned with a radiant, loving smile, accompanied by the following text: 

"So, what will you do, Shirou?" She asks me gently, with eyes that see through me. "——————" My face turns red. Her words and expression blow away my humility and my dislike of the Magic Association. …This is what I mean by Tohsaka holding my weakness. I can't help it if I fell in love with her.

“Oh, why go silent now? I haven’t heard your answer yet.“

She keeps smiling mischievously. She knows what my answer is, but she's mercilessly attacking me. "Uh… I, um…" To be honest, London is too far away, but I can't imagine myself being taught by anyone other than Tohsaka. And I never even thought about parting with her. Most of all, I want to be with Tohsaka. "Be clear, this is important. Will you still come with me, even if it's as my assistant?" She looks up into my eyes. She looks so attractive that I feel like my heart will pop out of my mouth. "S-Shut up, you idiot…! You idiot, idiot, idiot! I-I-If it's so important, tell me about it in a more appropriate place! I can't answer you when it's so sudden…!!!"

I don’t know what’ll happen to me if I keep staring at her, so I look away. ...I still feel Tohsaka’s presence.

She’s happily watching my reaction.

"Hey, Shirou. What's your answer?" She murmurs gently. ………She's got me beat. Is it this hard to nod and reply honestly? "………" But I can't turn around unless I say it to her.

"……You idiot. Don't ask me such an obvious question." I meet Tohsaka's gaze and tell her my honest opinion. Her smile broadens at those words.

“And I never even thought about parting with her. Most of all, I want to be with Tohsaka.” That’s the key portion here. The internal tug of war between Shirou’s deep-seated hatred for the common amoral magi and the stifling environment of Clock Tower on the one hand, and his unbridled love for and admiration of Rin is decisively and unquestionably resolved in Rin’s favour. It was barely even a contest. Returning to previously discussed dialectic, it is noteworthy how Shirou considers moving to London at a later time than Rin so that he wouldn’t represent a burden for a Rin less likely to be able to spend precious time with him. Hell—the guy already starts making plans about how he’s going to move there without her even inviting him or expressing that she wants him to go with her! He’s so lovestruck that the mere mention of her moving to London has his immediately making preparations so that he can be with her. It’s odd to think that Shirou could possibly find some way to work more than he already does, but that’s not stopping him. Shirou’s internal back and forth weighing his options, contrasting his reservations towards moving to London with his obvious preparedness to go there for Rin’s sake, is presented as barely even really being a proper conflict; the outcome was determined from the very start. There was simply no other way this could have been resolved—Shirou wants to be with his Tohsaka.

But why is this the conclusion to UBW? Why precisely was it so important to finish the route like this, with this particular scenario, with this particular character dynamic? It might seem like this is just the logical conclusion to how the story should be: it’s hardly in-character for Rin, someone who is portrayed as someone who loves magecraft and finds it fun, to not eventually go to Clock Tower, given that one of the themes of the route is her and Shirou’s learning to walk their chosen path out of their own love for it and on their own terms; it also helps reaffirm Shirou’s love for her. But how exactly does this help cap off Shirou’s character arc? How does this serve as a fitting conclusion to his character arc taken in its entirety, including his conflict with Archer? The essential element here is Shirou’s invocation of Kiritsugu, prefacing the rest of his comments elaborating on his opposition to the Association; Shirou’s refusal to move to London is symbolically associated with his ideal. The core question of UBW of course is “Will or will not Shirou become just like Archer?” He is after all walking on the same path, headed to the same direction. What makes him so different? This scene is meant to answer that: his love for Rin. The entire scenario is a microcosm of Rin and Shirou’s relationship, showing why he won’t become Archer: he loves Rin more than he wants to pursue his ideal. Of course Shirou wants to become a superhero—but he wants to be with Rin even more.  Shirou will always treasure the precious time he spends with Rin far more than he does his adventuring. Whatever corner of the world he may be in, whatever conflict is afoot, no matter how faraway he may be—he will always find his way back home, the place where he truly belongs: with Rin. The girl who loves him, and whom he loves back.

And I really cannot think of a more fitting poem to end that scene than...

The Ending in the Anime

In episode 25 of the 2014 UBW TV anime adaptation by Ufotable, we finally get to see Rin and Shirou’s life together in London.

It makes for incredible fanservice, to say the least.

He’s giving her a headpat—SHE’S SLEEPING ON HIS SHOULDER!!! Thanks for humouring my pic dump; now, onto the analysis.

Within the confines of the anime, the classroom conversation between Rin and Shirou is quite heavily abridged, positioned very deliberately so that it may be carefully instrumentalized for the specific narrative purposes of the broader narrative of the London epilogue it is situated in. It is in short repurposed. We will have to return to the specifics of that later. For now, let’s begin analyzing how the narrative unfolds.

The epilogue has a three act structure, divided over three in-universe days. The first day acts as the set-up; the second day as the elaboration; and the final day provides us with the conclusion. Now, the first day is mostly fanservice, and this is not without reason: while it lays the foundation for Shirou’s inner conflict that we see unfold over the next two days, it is a mostly laidback story that simply invites us to enjoy Rin and Shirou’s nearly idyllic life in London. It’s a way to frontload almost all of the pure, unadulterated fanservice so as to allow for more narratively relevant elements to be positioned at the very end, which is precision-focused to delivering a fitting conclusion to Emiya Shirou’s arc—which isn’t to say that the latter portions of the story lack fanservice, or that the frontloaded fanservice has no purpose whatsoever; rather, the later fanservice simply has more thematic depth to it. The early fanservice meanwhile serves mostly to establish what Rin and Shirou’s life in London is like; it’s purpose is to establish what is at stake. Many have lamented that Ufotable cut a lot of the elements which were included in Nasu’s original script (most likely rejected due to the Ufotable animation staff’s qualms with having to do another exhausting 45 min episode), but ultimately it was for the better in my estimation; it resulted in far more focus. Instead of wasting time on the total mediocrity of a character that is Luvia, the existing story utilizes her wisely for a specific purpose—to establish just how much Rin has changed over the narrative. I mean, the girl went from freaking out at the suggestion she might be fond of a certain redhead to being so openly enamoured with him that’s she willing to throw down with other girls for flirting with him! The idealized portrayal of Shirou’s new idealized life with the girl he loves is interspersed with discussion of his receiving an invitation to join the Association—and the implications of that. The day ends with Shirou’s mentioning that his heart lies elsewhere; in his pursuit of the ideal.

The next day is fairly laidback as well, but also a bit more... contemplative. Rin and Shirou’s ruminations on the Holy Grail War and what they learned from it during their visit to Glastonbury aren’t exactly directly connected to the central conflict of the narrative, but they nevertheless help portray just how much more mature these characters have gotten, how much they have changed since the events of HGW. It’s important to have Rin portrayed in a much more serious light; after all, the beginning of the episode had her used as comedic relief. Yes, it’s a perfectly fine way to establish just how much Rin truly loves Shirou, but the conclusion to the episode ultimately relies on her being both loving and mature; she’s always been the more intelligent, level-headed and wise of the two, so it stands to reason that it would be quite prudent remind the audience of that as it becomes important once again. Once more, we are treated to a dialectic; the hopelessly in love Rin of the first day meets her antithesis in the wise, contemplative Rin of the second day, ultimately resulting in the synthesis we encounter in the final resolution to the narrative. Having Rin portrayed as being both more mature yet also more fun than Shirou also reinforces just how much more at ease she is at Clock Tower than he is.

On the ride back home, Shirou has a flashback. And we suddenly find ourselves back in Fuyuki, two years prior.

Cute.

Anyway, we return to our repurposed classroom scene.

What exactly is the goal of this scene? Shirou’s monologues, so crucial to the scene in the VN, are wholly excised. We can see Shirou’s blushing like crazy (I can’t blame him...), but we are otherwise left clueless as to his considerations whether or not to follow Rin to London. The thematic relevance of the scene in the VN is gone; no-one, going based solely on the anime, could possibly have realized that this particular scene was meant to be a microcosm of their relationship, showing my Shirou will not become Archer. If anything, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that the scene is just there to fill in the gaps about what happened in the immediate aftermath of the events of Fifth HGW and act as more Rin/Shirou fanservice. It’s the final episode, so why not just give your audience diabetes ten times over? Just look at it!

God, I’m really sorry if this many images bothers anyone—but I just can’t help it, it’s too cute and amazing.

But yeah... good fanservice. Doesn’t necessarily mean there’s anything thematically relevant or important to the characterization our heroes receive, right?

Well...

This... is what the episode is all about.

Shirou doesn’t want to betray Rin.

“Thanks for bringing me with you.“ Shirou is profoundly grateful to Rin for giving him this wonderful opportunity to be with her and spend time with her. He is so very happy to be able to cherish his time with the girl that he loves... but he can’t stay at Clock Tower. Rin is the only reason that he is happy there. He feels uncomfortable with the subject of his future there, too afraid to openly and honestly express his feelings to Rin, because he doesn’t want to break her heart. For all that Shirou has matured, he is still just a young man trying to find his place in the world, confused and scared; scared that he might have to abandon the girl he loves so dearly—scared of what she might say. He doesn’t want to spit all over her effort and hard work, all that she has ever done for him; fundamentally, Shirou’s conflict in this episode is about Rin. It’s about his struggling with the difficulties of maintaining the relationship that he has built with her, and his fears that it might not last. His fears that Rin wouldn’t understand what he’s going through, and reject him for it. And that in doing so... his fate will as Archer will be sealed.

But that’s not what happens. When he is finally forced to explain himself to her, he is surprised to hear that she isn’t mad at all. No, she’s wholly supportive of him! Encouraging, even! In fact... she’s the one reassuring him. Earlier in the narrative, Rin was Shirou’s foil as the down to the earth realist to his wide-eyed, idealism. Rin was the one with the self-esteem issues; Shirou was the one who kept charging at the impossible without a doubt in his mind about his chances of success. The confession was all about Shirou’s providing Rin with the necessary support to get back up due to his holding her in a higher regard than she did herself; to Shirou, she was always the amazing, incredible girl who never quits despite all the things weighing on her back. And now, in a beautiful symmetry... it’s her, the girl who didn’t think she had it in her to strive for the impossible, giving encouragement to him, the boy who never did quit, who now has doubts about his future... to never quit. Because she believes in him, just like he believed in her.

People tend to grievously misunderstand what Rin says in this episode—it’s responsible for like 90% of the stupid takes on this episode and the future of the Rin/Shirou pair. She never claims that she will always follow Shirou around; she quite openly states that she eventually wishes to settle down at Clock Tower, because pursuing magecraft is fun, it’s her dream, and it makes her happy. She just doesn’t think that is necessarily incompatible with her being with Shirou. Just like Shirou had made a temporary sacrifice coming to London to spend time with her, so too will Rin now make a slight detour from her path to accomplishing her dream to support the most precious person in her life. It’s why I find it somewhat regrettable that Shirou’s monologues were removed from the classroom scene; it would have been nice to have it be readily apparent within the show itself without recourse to the VN that there’s a symmetry between Shirou’s going to London with Rin and Rin’s going on adventures with Shirou. I understand the omission, given the excellent execution, but it was nonetheless an imperfection solution; perhaps the only one there was. But I can still lament, can’t I?

Rin and Shirou’s relationship is going to face a lot of issues. It’s not going to be easy. A clash of wants is inevitable. But Rin is willing to make it work. She is going to make it work. For both of their sakes. The beauty of Rin and Shirou’s relationship is in its striving towards an ideal; it can never be perfect, but it still comes close to being so. Its imperfections make it more than perfect. Theirs is a relationship just like any other—filled with ups and downs. The proof of their love is not in the absence of problems, but in their having the patience, understanding and mutual respect to overcome them, together. Many people when praising the Shirin pair like to adduce its being the most “realistic” of the three VN relationships in its favour. I think such people are doing it a massive disservice by doing so. Shirin is wonderful because it’s a highly idealized version of a normal relationship. Just look at the episode! Their love story is a like a fairy tale! The entire story is about Rin and Shirou, partners in crime; just the two of them against the whole world. Falling love in the midst of a conflict filled with strange mystic mages and legendary heroes from the past. And yet... it feels so down to earth. It feels like something that could occur in your own neighbourhood. What makes me love it so much is this careful but amazing balance between reality and fantasy; it’s just the story of a boy and a girl falling in love... but it feels like a grand epic. Both of them are strange and downright weird people... yet they are also just two regular teenagers, doing regular teenage things. Two regular people, stuck in extraordinary circumstances where they don’t belong... and making the best of it. Together. And nothing exemplifies that more for me that this one final scene at the end of episode 25, perfectly encapsulating why they are so great.

Many people lament the absence of more physical affection between Rin and Shirou, in both the VN and the anime. I sympathize with such people; I myself wish we had gotten many more hugs, kisses and cuddling than we did. And yet... I feel as though in decrying what is not there, they fail to appreciate what was there. Because frankly, few things have made me as emotional as this one handshake.

#shirin #rinrou #shirou/rin #rin/shirou #shirou x rin #rin x shirou #shirou emiya #Emiya Shirou #rin tohsaka #tohsakarin #tohsaka #tohsaka rin #fate stay night ubw #fsn ubw #ubw #fate ubw #fate stay night #fate stay ubw #unlimited blade works #ubw anime #2014 ubw #visual novel #one true pairing #otp #romance #anime romance #anime #fsn analysis #fate analysis #fate stay night analysis

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

Another thing that upsets me about usopp haters! (im sorry, is just those people drive me nuts and for my mental health ill never interact with them because its not worth it, so I prefer to interact with you and other fans so we can all be "yeah those people are crazy, Usopp is great 🥂 we have good taste" together. Ehem I'm missing the point)

What upsets me is when they act like Usopp didn't have any moments in pre-ts, and they act like his only badass moments are shooting the world goverment flag (not even then, because they're always like "actually that was Sogeking" 😤 jokes over man, you are being obtuse on purpose) and that moment in Dressrosa, now I can't speak for post-ts because 😶 I'm still not caught up (stuck in post war, I'll keep going eventually), but my boy has many moments in pre ts. My favorite one being his fight against Perona, and one of the reasons its my favorite is because it comes very soon after Usopp has been feeling useless and weak (ok soon after for us, in universe it seems that Oda likes to leave certain characterizations in the arc that they appear and never mention them again...)

The anime quite literally spells it out for you that Usopp is incredibly important, and actually the reason why they didnt just all die in Thriller Bark, and there's STILL people out there saying Usopp is the most useless member *eating the drywall in my home*

Sorry I needed to get that off my chest.

If nobody got me, I know you Usopp fans got me 😔

Always fun to speak with Usopp fans on here! There’s a great community and a lot of great conversations to be had.

I really think a large part of this kind of fan reaction to Usopp is twofold. I also think a lot of these points are also applicable to Nami tbh. Firstly, I think that Usopp’s particular skills are undervalued by a lot of fans. He’s a long range fighter, not a close range one, and a lot of fans simply aren’t interested in that kind of battle because it’s not super flashy in the same way. His strengths also usually aren’t catered to in universe. For one reason or another he doesn’t get the chance to park himself somewhere and really get to do his job as sniper, and maybe if he did it would be a different story? I’m not sure though. His other skills (engineering, art, etc) also aren’t the coolest or flashiest but are necessary for the crew to function and don’t get a lot of hype in the same way either. In the same vein, I think a lot of people forget he’s forced up against literal monsters most of the time and in battles that aren’t his forte fighting wise, so in comparison he doesn’t get to shine. However he’s canonically extremely talented at basically everything he does.

Secondly, I think a lot of what he adds to the story and the crew is emotionally and character driven, and people who come to One Piece for the fights aren’t necessarily going to be drawn to that kind of contribution to the plot. If you’re interested in more low key character drama/development you may be compelled to pay attention to him in the story. But I think a good amount of people aren’t as interested in that element of the story and so don’t really pay attention.

There’s also the matter of the way some of his accomplishments are framed in universe tbh. Usopp is considered by a lot of fans to be kind of a meme character and so is treated like that accordingly. This includes all the Sogeking jokes and other things that mean that he isn’t really taken seriously by a lot of people unfortunately. But I think if anyone takes a closer look beyond the surface they’ll be able to see a really interesting character underneath! Especially pre time skip like you mentioned

I hope you enjoy your journey as you go further into the story! There’s a lot but it’s a great time and a lot of fun moments upcoming.

#asks #one piece #op #usopp #speaks

[birdyverdie]

i love harpy eagles! you mentioned you'd imabine Baldwin as one? and if not, what bird would he be? :}

Hi hi Coffee!! Heehee this series is honestly super fun to make! Baldwin really left me scratching my head I'll be honest! Characterizing and analyzing the character's personal traits, mixing it with game play, and then transferring it to a bird form is definitely a challenge! A fun one though, so I am not complaining. So Baldwin, our favorite self-exiled king. His leprosy makes it hard to interact with others and he left his kingdom to fight til his inevitable premature death. Due to his leprosy, he's most likely going blind, thus his low accuracy. He's a tanky damage dealer, with the highest base damage output and HP of the game, with low disease resist, but a pretty average blight resist. Now I don't know all the birds in the world, so I tend to look aesthetically first and then deep dive for features, and for Baldwin I thought a large white bird would fit him. I summarized the options down and ended up with two interesting choices. I'm incredibly biased for one though, and I think that's what I would assign to him, however there's a huge flaw in the logic so I'll maybe talk about the other in a separate reblog (this ended up really long). King Baldwin, The King Vulture.

Now hear me out! I know vultures are very disease resistant and have weak neck muscles and that's why they eat carrion, but the other factors of this bird make it so cool and fitting that I thought it should at least be a contender! King Vultures are part of the New World vulture classification, which means that they're a part of the species of vultures that doesn't depend on sight to find carcasses to feed on. However, compared to other new world vultures, their sense of sight AND smell are fairly poor, so they follow other vultures to lead them to carrion. I sorta associated it to how mechanically, you need the Leper to have some sort of accuracy buff, or else you'll just keep missing. The main problem with this association is the fact that King Vultures are not aggressive at all, in fact, they tend to shy away from any confrontation. Which doesn't match Baldwin at all. To contrast that though, is how out of all the new world vultures, the King Vulture's beak is the strongest and thus if present, other vultures let King Vultures tear at the carcass before feeding on the remains. (Kinda why you always place the Leper at the front.) Another reason why I chose the King Vulture is because of its history. The ancient Mayans believed that the King Vulture was a messenger of the gods, and therefore made him a King. The mythology of this bird is varied across cultures though, since the Mayans believed that vultures are powerful by taking in disease as a sacrifice for humanity, whereas other cultures like the Greeks, or Christian religions, believed them to be evil and therefore their choice of diet and baldheadedness is a punishment from the gods. (I recommend you to read this excerpt I found while researching because I found the cultural distinction to be awesome.) Some other key factors is the general association of leprosy and disease, I thought that since these birds have such a strong association with disease, that symbolically it rather fits. Also, these birds are fairly slow and stationary most of the time, as they spend most of their day perching, which relates to his in-game slow speed and refusal to move backwards. Aesthetically I think it fits him too! The bald head for his disfigured face, the yellow caruncle for his mask, the huge size to mirror his high HP, and the white feathers for his cloak!

#darkest dungeon #darkest dungeon baldwin #dd baldwin #The other bird I was thinking of was a gyrfalcon #but i got so attached to associating Baldwin as a King Vulture that i can't see him as anything else! #this bird responds