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#if they go that route like we are all expecting them to go
youbutstupid · 2 days
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@missmitchieg and @matthewsgreybubbles brought up something really interesting so now I’m going to go on a rant about Spencer Reid’s self expression through his looks i.e. his hair and his clothes
Quite often when I read how some fans portray Reid, they take the stereotypical ‘nerd’ route. They think that because he doesn’t work out a lot like Morgan or because he is a nerdy character then he doesn’t see much value in vanity so he mustn’t dabble in it. I’m here to explain why this is completely false
Reid is very aware of how looks are perceived by others. In the past we have seen him talk about the ‘golden ratio’ and facial symmetry which are both scientific theories behind why we find certain people attractive; as someone with a PHD in psychology he of course knows a lot about this and will probably also know about the halo effect. The halo effect is the theory that we make pre-determined assumptions about people based on the little facts we know about them, which is quite often their looks
Because Reid knows about these psychological theories and the importance of needing to be perceived in a positive light in his line of work in order to gain trust from others, it is not unreasonable to expect that he would take pride in his own looks
The first way in which he does this is through his hair. Someone who doesn’t care about how they look would not change their hair as much as Reid does. In season 1 we see him with very neat hair, like your classic young student who wants to make a good impression on those senior to him. He’s Gideon’s student and he keeps himself very straight-lace in order to live up to what he feels would be Gideon’s expectations of him.
In season 2, after he gets kidnapped, his hair is no longer kept neat but becomes more messy as he is no longer concerned with looking neat or impressing Gideon because he’s too busy battling his own demons.
Then from seasons 3-4 we see him experiment with a lot more hairstyles and growing his hair out. I feel like part of this is because Gideon is gone, he is no longer Gideon’s student but rather an established FBI agent who can afford to experiment to find what he likes. We see this all throughout the show, whether it’s his Jesus hair in season 5, his short hair in seasons 6 & 7, his messy mid-length hair in season 8 and his shorter hair, again, in season 9
Then in season 10 he finds a hairstyle that he seems comfortable with which is slightly shorter and parted; a style which he keeps until season 12 when he’s arrested and then we get post-prison Reid who carries into season 15 with long curly hair
Then if we look at his clothes, we will again see that his style changes a lot and a lot of thought is put into each outfit. Accessories such as watches, expensive cardigans, trench coats, bags, sweater vests, designer shoes, scarves and patterned ties all make an appearance and his clothes change with his maturity and confidence
To conclude, Reid cares a lot about his looks and a lot of effort is clearly put into looking nice, either because of his own preferences or his knowledge of how others perceive him
Also shoutout to his converse
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edoro · 2 days
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Dunmeshi spoilers, talking about Thistle and Delgal
the more i think about it, the less i feel like the text of Dunmeshi really does support the interpretation that Delgal didn't love Thistle
like, yes, he absolutely did use Thistle, and displayed a clear sense of entitlement towards him - the baseline expectation that if he had a problem, Thistle could and would solve it, and then the idea that once he'd set Thistle to solve a problem he could just... turn that solution off when he felt like it ("we've been here a while now, isn't it time we left the dungeon?" <-words of a man who has not truly grasped what he asked for, what Thistle did to fulfill it, or what any of the repercussions of this are)
there's also an interesting thread of carelessness when it comes to his physical interactions with Thistle during high-emotion moments, like when he grabs onto Thistle by Eodio's sickbed or when he thumps Thistle on the back after Thistle summons monsters to kill their enemies and then brings that kid's dead dad back to life
it feels like he's a large dog who doesn't realize how big he is, or perhaps doesn't realize how small and delicate Thistle is, and perhaps at times is very aware of it and uses his size to intimidate/express his frustration
all of that aside, though, i think it's very clear that prior to Thistle becoming dungeon lord and tbh for a decent chunk of time at the beginning of his tenure as dungeon lord, Delgal had a very emotionally intimate relationship with him
i don't think you can sort them neatly into the categories of older vs younger sibling. they've both been both at different times, depending on how you measure it. Thistle is certainly older chronologically, and there was a chunk of Delgal's life - a very formative chunk, too - where Thistle was older, smarter, and stronger, where Thistle looked out for him and protected him and taught him things.
and then there were a few years where they were at the same developmental level... and then Delgal outgrew Thistle. he got bigger and older physically and he matured mentally past the point where Thistle was. not only that, but he became king, and while Thistle may have been raised alongside him like a brother, that doesn't make Thistle a prince - he was first and foremost a servant (and property) of the crown, even if his position meant he enjoyed a close relationship with the king, queen, and prince.
but that doesn't make Thistle necessarily the little brother - he is now, but it seems to me that there's still a part of him and Delgal that sees him as someone with the power to comfort and protect and teach, rather than someone who needs to be comforted and protected and taught
take the scene where Delgal says he's afraid of dying after his father was killed: that's an extremely tender, intimate, emotional scene. Delgal is crying while Thistle strokes his hair and promises to protect him. Delgal, the king, is being vulnerable in a way he absolutely cannot with most people, and Thistle sees his vulnerability and offers not only comfort but the promise of safety - don't worry, i'll make it better, i'll chase away the monsters under your bed, i won't let anything bad happen to you, i won't let anyone hurt you.
Delgal sees him as someone to seek that comfort from and Thistle sees himself as being in a position to give that comfort. he yearns for Delgal's attention and approval but also sees himself as Delgal's protector.
and then we have scenes like the one where Thistle resurrected that kid's dad, where he sees everyone staring at him in the aftermath of this bloody route and a bit of casual necromancy and realizes they're unsure, even scared of him, and it's Delgal who steps in and changes the mood by thumping Thistle on the back and praising him; Delgal who manages the crowd and keeps Thistle safe, setting the expectation for how everyone should react, lending his social cachet to Thistle in this moment to protect him from backlash
they go back and forth like this with each other, and i think it's one of the most interesting things about their relationship. no one else in Delgal's family has the same kind of relationship with Thistle. no one else knows him as well or loves him like Delgal does. no one else is close with him like that.
ultimately, i don't think you can look at the way he sought comfort from Thistle after his father's death and think that there isn't love and emotional intimacy there. the real tragedy is that Delgal always loved Thistle, but he never understood Thistle, and his inability to do so combined with his general passivity and avoidance played a big part in things getting as fucked up as they did.
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vaarians · 1 year
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So ya know with the heir to the empire name drop thing. I got thinking about how I could explain it in my fics with him and Sabina.
Cw: It's dark so don't read if your easily upset by suicide or death
I had always had Sabina passing away saving sky-walkers at the hands of the Grysks and Thrawn being there. But now I'm like what if losing her drives him ferally insane with grief because of this interaction in my fic;
"The Kyss is a very strong connection, Mitth'raw'nuru," Eris paused before continuing. "It is set by the cosmos and once completed by a healer; gives both a deep understanding of each other. You will be her guide into the after-life and her memories will be preserved in you." "What if I am not there to fulfill this duty?" Eris grew rigid and her facial heat flared up. "That is rare, but with power like my daughters it will be torture for you both. In most cases it drives the mate to end their lives because the pain is torturous." Eris turned to him. "Sabina's soul would reek havoc on the cosmos and you would be driven into insanity because of all that residual untamed power that would be left in you from your connection with her."
I had no idea that this would work in my favor but it kind of does. It would explain a lot of what he does if they go the Heir of the Empire route with him as we are all predicting now.
Sabina (or Thabiana) is a perfect balance of the light and dark sides of the force. She in a way is the chosen one, but she's never trained like a jedi so that's why she's a perfect balance. I don't like Jedi that refuse attachment or that cult ass teaching in the temple.
Anyways, so I feel like after she passes and that energy doesn't go peacefully because her soul is constantly searching for Thrawn's to help her reach the after-life, all that dark side energy drives him insane and preys on his wants to save his people and his children.
So we kind of see how Ezra was when he was using the Sith holocron essentially. It basically turns him back to the Empire and drives him to be the Heir to the Empire and side with those Sith.
Ezra of course see's this and gets away from Thrawn unsure why there is this sudden change in him, but he gets picked up by Ar'alani, Eli, and Yr'aiana in the process.
Where Yr'a confirms that her mother is in fact dead and Ezra starts putting the pieces together finding out about Yr'a's mother's powers and that the darkness he saw around Thrawn was in fact that connection with Sabina's soul trying to find peace but instead all that darkness was driving Thrawn insane with power and feeding into his insecurities.
I don't really know where I wanna go after that but damn i didn't know so much of what I had already written would probably fit canon. I'll have to wait and see when the show comes out in August I guess.
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sp4rklegutz · 4 months
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" but that's fatphobic to not wanna be fat " kind of like i was diagnosed with a disorder where one of the main symptoms is fatphobia 💀 u literally have to be fatphobic to be diagnosed with it , how shocking ! how hard it must be for u that i have a disorder that will probably kill me before i turn 30 and i shouldnt talk abt it or try and seek help bcs thta could hurt ur feelings ! grow up
u guys will preach " mental health is important " till it comes to actual mental illnesses that arent just crying for a few minutes and then being fine but actually involve actively self destructive behaviors
like god forbid someone has a mental illness but doesnt want to or can recover . if u guys think it's so bad and should be banned from being talked abt then all mental illnesses should be banned from being talked abt bcs it could upset someone who feels uncomfortable seeing someone else in a worse position to them
god forbid a actually marginalized person copes with that trauma with controlling the only thing they can ( food ) . me wanting to lessen gender dysphoria ( bcs i look more androgynous when uw ) is so mean right how dare i want to feel comfortable in my own body for shame
not to mention that trans ppl r more likely to develop e/d's 💀 and then say that ppl with e/d's r privileged ( genuinely saw someone say that 😭🙏 ) like yea someone having a trauma based disorder is rlly privileged i ahve such a privilege to die at 30 ?? bro pls be fr rn
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solace-seekers · 1 year
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😀😀😀
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girlhorse · 1 year
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fr id be so sad if i had to cut enzos hair down but if i cant get my shit together soon that might be what has to happen until im in a better/more stable position. part of it is that it keeps getting Longer and so i have to groom more frequently and for longer sessions. this is also the most harrowing time in a havanese dogs life (around 9-18 months) when theyre 1) dealing with adolescence and 2) have a chance of having a very difficult coat change (blowing puppy coat and developing the undercoat, which in non-shedding breeds can cause some messy, easily matted hair!)
as a result enzo has been losing a lot of confidence on the grooming table and is less tolerant of it. He's not getting pissy or biting at all, just wiggly and low key stressed, which sucks bc he needs to be up there for me to deal with his crazy teen hair =_= The crazy hair is making him even Worse because sometimes theres a bit of a mat i need to get out (at this point i have been clipping them out to avoid causing him discomfort)
it's also spring, which means theres a ton of burrs and seeds everywhere, and the grass is growing tall. so every time we go outside he gets so many little things in his hair. it's a nightmare sometimes LMAO
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kyaruun · 8 months
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i'm halfway-ish done with amnesia later (which means i've played like. 2 routes) but dang they're too short TT maybe i'm just too used to fd being pretty long?
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trainsinanime · 1 month
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I wonder: Do Americans know about american school buses? Not their existence in general, but how they're seen overseas.
Over here, they're one of the symbols of America, on par with the Statue of Liberty, the flag, the Eagle, and well ahead of any chain restaurant you can name. People won't know any US states, but they will know these vehicles.
The thing is, here in Germany, we don't have dedicated school buses. The general idea is that kids go to school on their own. When that's not practical, they're expected to use (and given free tickets for) public transit. Public transit is designed around this requirement; there are many places where there is a bus, and anyone can get on it, but the route and timetable really only makes sense for school children. In case a dedicated school bus is really needed, that's generally subcontracted out, and the lines either use something like a Sprinter Van for smaller routes, or a normal city or interurban bus (often a used one that's a bit older). School trips are normal public transit, or a rented bus, typically a coach or regional bus.
It's not a perfect system, in the past couple of years there's been an epidemic of people bringing their kids to school in their cars instead of letting them walk, which is less than ideal. It is what it is. But building a dedicated network of public transit lines only for students, and building dedicated vehicles only for that, has never occurred to anyone here.
Of course we know about these buses, from movies and such, but they're as foreign here as cacti or pick-up trucks (actually we're seeing more and more of these here) or yellow cabs (all europeans will assume all cabs in the US are yellow until they actually visit).
You do see these buses here at times, because people still generally like the idea of the US, even if they have a lot of issues with a lot of details, and so folks bring them over, along with stretch limos and stuff (also not really a thing here). And of course, if someone goes to all that trouble, they don't do it to haul school kids, they rent it out for city tours or as a party bus or whatever.
So you see these yellow things as a symbol of faraway places, scenic vistas, some vague undefined idea of freedom that doesn't necessarily hold up to any contact with reality, and it's just a huge part of the whole US aesthetic.
And then you go to a student exchange with the US, and you finally get the chance: You yourself get to ride in one of these iconic chrome yellow buses! It looks just like in the movies! You get in, you drive in them a little…
…and you realise they're shit. Just the worst buses in the western world. Terrible suspension. Uncomfortable seats with weirdly high backs (so they don't have to put seatbelts in, they just restrict how far kids can fly in an accident). Everything made out of the cheapest materials. Turns out the reason why the US uses school buses like that instead of normal modern city buses, which the US has, is to save money and because they just hate kids.
And then it hits you why US Americans say "as American as apple pie", a dish that is made and enjoyed literally anywhere in the world, instead of "as American as yellow school buses". Of course the Americans already knew all this. They got tortured by these things forever. It would never occur to them to see this as a symbol of America, it's just a normal part of life for them. It's a symbol of school and school life and sometimes normalcy, and tells us that these actors getting out of it are supposed to be teenagers, nothing more.
But most people in Europe have, of course, never ridden on these buses. So when they see them in movies and TV, that's a giant big yellow signifier that we're not in Hessen or Wallonia or wherever anymore. A symbol of a different world, one that may be at most a once-in-a-lifetime-experience for most people, just like a picture of a tropical beach, Incan Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, or Hildesheim (there's no reason to go there twice). And I think Americans don't know that, and that's fascinating.
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villainessbian · 1 year
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Concept: most aliens can get anxious, can get scared, can get fight-or-flight. What most aliens do not get, however, is stress. Stress is a weird thing even by human standards. It can build up over time or be something tied to a very limited situation. It can be caused by a lot of things, and it comes in a lot of different ways. But it's a core human reaction, when a situation is wrong, it causes stress until it is righted. And it even affects different people differently!
Cue Human Cassandra, on a ship with her friend and co-worker Human Pauline. The ship is crewed with a mix of species. It's a cargo ship - load up in a space port, unload in another, get news and supplies during their stops, and live as an ever-shifting family as some of the two dozen crew members, give or take, get replaced. Some leave come payday, and new ones come looking for the thrill of low-level adventure, experiencing warp drives across the safer roads of the known universe.
But getting the supplies you need, or want, in stops is never so easy. Humans are new to the galactic community, and their needs misunderstood. Most broad-edibility food is bland for them, but that's okay. A big enough bag of their condiments can last them years. But ADHD meds... now that's less easy to get, the further from Earth you are. And a contract too big for their captain to pass on came up, much farther than the two humans expected.
Cassandra's mood deteriorated, her work priorities out of order, her sleep schedule in disarray. Little by little, she grew restless, shifting moods and gears unpredictably. A few weeks in and she was a mess, barely able to keep up with the minimum her job doing maintenance and running safety diagnostics for the route charting team required of her. While Pauline could help with the mechanical aspects of keeping the ship running, picking up the "slack", the safety had to be double-checked by the charting and pilot teams. When the curves of asteroid probability reached beyond a certain level, several hundred simulations had to be run, time-consuming processes had to be used, to avoid any collision at speeds beyond speed c. Some truly exotic things happened to ships that experienced those, but none of them contained the words "surviving crew." A safe route avoided any probability of collision over .1% and when going faster than light, any choice of course required thinking in 3 dimensions plus relative time to navigate dangerous probability fields in one piece, finding time-specific corridors and accounting for a dozen variables at once.
After she had a breakdown over a path she would normally have been able to find in under a minute, Pauline spoke to a concerned pilot team member:
"You have to understand her, this is a stressful situation and she's doing her best..."
"What do you mean by 'stressful'?" Gabalt asked. The furry little creature stood on two arched legs, and barely reached up to Pauline's shoulder, opening three wide eyes with curiosity and concern in equal parts.
"Things are... getting difficult for her, and keep getting more difficult because she does not have medication to help her brain be efficient. It makes her tired, and inefficient, and as it goes on, she's less and less able to cope with the situation. The longer this goes on, the worse it gets, and that is stress. Getting more tired because it takes more energy to deal with the situation, and less efficient because she's more tired, and things get harder because she's less efficient, on and on until something can solve the problem and the stress goes away."
"That sounds... hard. Do all humans have to deal with this?"
"Well, everyone has sources of stress, but she's got a disability. Without her meds, she gets stressed all the time. Not a lot all at once, but it always adds up."
"Oh no! So she'll be stuck like that until we get closer to Earth?"
"Most likely, yes."
But the most momentous thing to happen this day was not her breakdown. Not an hour later, alarms blared up. The simulation holograms all displayed blinking red masses - the less-travelled "safe route" was not as well protected! An asteroid range had been detected cutting through the border field, and it was in their way!
Pauline froze up, not knowing what to do. Gabalt was too surprised to act fast. All the courses from the ship's library of regular manoeuvres suggested a crash chance of over 60%, and mere seconds to act before entering the field!
Before anyone could react, Cassandra came in running from her corner to the front of the bridge, slamming the warp drive shutdown button. Most holograms stuttered and collapsed, the exit from FTL essentially dividing one or several of their dimensions by zero.
Looking quickly at the few remaining ones and gazing at the screens showing the current outside situation like a large window would have - plus a few critical extra points of data - she adjusted the angles manually while everyone still shuddered from the gravitational and temporal whiplash of suddenly coming back into normal time. Unblinkingly, she spotted the asteroids on the route while the ship was still going, if not at relativistic speeds, still fast enough for a single pebble they met to vaporise the Whipple shields, the outer hull, the inner hull, the crew members, and the hull again coming out if they but grazed it. Confirming the angles visually, she played with the reaction wheels, the thrusters, the gravity drives, to divert the ship's course just enough to miss a collision while not risking any grave injury on board. There was no time to react - if anything showed up straight ahead on the "unaugmented" outside view screens, it was too late to not get splatted. After half the crew had had the time to get thrown to the side or on the ground due to the rough handling, she'd managed to avoid any crash.
Gabalt was reeling. While it was surely not impossible, these was the kind of moves experienced veterans would never wish to attempt, and the margins for error were ridiculously low! She'd saved the ship and everyone on it, whereas she'd been unable to do a simple safety run so soon before?
Pauline was white as a sheet, but this was nothing compared to Cassandra, shaking violently and breathing unevenly.
"Pauline? What is she doing?"
"That's... probably the adrenaline."
"What's it for?"
"It's from stress. When it comes it overcharges the body. It's like the traditional, 'fight or flight' instinct from survival in prey-predator paradigms, it lets you move fast but paralyses thought... it feels pretty bad after a lot of it is released though. Now she's crashing down, must be harrowing."
"How did she do that? And you said her thoughts were paralysed for precision manoeuvres?"
Cassandra's voice came, nearly a mutter: "I just... had to. do it."
Gabalt needed to understand what happened.
"What do you mean you had to? Someone had to do it, but why you?"
"It- it was very stressful, I saw you freeze, and so."
"But... but HOW did you do all that? That was extremely complicated, few pilots -whose main craft is directly piloting- would want to even try doing that when given a choice!?"
"I had to. do it, so I did. I couldn't. couldn't make a mistake."
"This makes absolutely no sense."
Pauline interrupted. "She just works like that. Lots of stress and when people freeze up, humans with her condition... sometimes, surprisingly, function better in the moment than others can."
"Ah. So it's a human thing. of course, it's a human thing. NOTHING MAKES ANY SENSE WITH YOUR ACCURSED SPECIES" the diminutive pilot pouted.
And so one more story of the humans doing the impossible spread around. Humans of a subtype, more easily harmed, sometimes unstable and needing help for the simplest things... accomplishing odd, unthinkable, borderline heroic feats under duress none could be expected to withstand - but only then. Cursed, blessed? No story-teller seemed too certain. But the "magical" species never stopped surprising all others. And a new proverb developed: "it's not over until the human says it is".
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jewishvitya · 6 months
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[This post was originally written in response to someone tagging me and claiming that a free Palestine would mean all Israeli Jews will be kicked out and where will I go, and how they can't understand why I'm so against Israel being our ethnostate. OP blocked me, so I'm reposting with a few edits, because I already wrote this and I might as well.]
Look. I understand your mentality. We're traumatized by a history of violence against us. We were shown that so many in the world want us dead, and so many others won't stop them. I get it. But I refuse to let myself silently become the face of similar oppression for other people.
Israel benefits from antisemitism and maintains myths that got Jewish people killed in the past, like double loyalty. It weaponizes it for propaganda reasons. It's supported by antisemitic Christian zionist organizations with terrifying motivations. It started out with violence not only against Palestinians but against Jews too. Israel isn't motivated by our safety, it abuses that idea. It manipulates and weaponizes our trauma to make us feel justified in causing so much suffering to innocent people.
You're right that I'll have nowhere to go if I'm kicked out of here. This is where I was born. My parents come from other countries that I won't feel safe in. But all of this is hypothetical. The ethnic cleansing and genocide of Palestinians is not hypothetical, it's REALITY. It's happening RIGHT NOW. And I don't understand how, as a Jewish person who knows what this kind of suffering and loss of life means, you seem unable to prioritize that. I tell you I'm witnessing a genocide happening right next to me and you keep telling me "but what if they hurt you instead."
The assumption that Palestinians will pull some sort of reverse ethnic cleansing against us is racist. This assumption is the reason Israel feels comfortable calling the carpet bombing of a civilian population "self defense." Killing them based on a this is not self defense, it's a racially motivated crime against humanity.
And I'm calling it an assumption because I'm not willing to pull from the Hamas charter that they've since replaced. Hamas isn't Palestinians. The only reason they became this powerful is Israeli funding, and Israeli violence giving Hamas free PR as the only ones who will stand up to the state that will keep them trapped and dying.
We control every aspect of their lives. Israel created a place that breeds radicalization. No group of people, living under the conditions forced on Palestinians, would be peaceful. They would fight back. Because peaceful attempts to have the human rights that Israel denies them got nothing. We stomped on every single one. We blocked all other routes and left them with only violence, which Israeli politicians have been using as an excuse for over 15 years to make a show of force with military campaigns whenever they wanted a boost in popularity. We created living conditions with such low life expectancy that half of the population is children because so few adults survive. They don't deserve this. No one deserves this.
Palestine was a land with people living in it. One plot of land can create multiple groups of people, especially when we've been separated for 2000 years. Our connection to this land does not cancel out theirs. Removing them to create our own country could never be right. It's not an argument saying that our connection to Israel gives us the right to move here to live ALONGSIDE Palestinians. That's not what we wanted. We wanted a country that enforces Jewish majority and legally prioritizes Jews. You're justifying this when I repeatedly state that the only way for it to exist is through ethnic cleansing and genocide. There's no way to make this concept into a reality without killing, displacing, and oppressing whoever's left in various different ways, from apartheid to other kinds of discrimination.
I'm not against safety for us. I want to be safe. I want my children to grow in a safe world where we can be openly and joyfully Jewish. I'm not willing to pay for that with the lives and freedoms of other people.
So I will be loud about this: Palestinians deserve to be free in every part of their homeland, even if it's our ancestral homeland too.
If safety for us means we're the ones committing the genocide, maybe we should rethink what safety looks like.
I'm terrified for the lives of millions of people in Gaza. Right now, all I can think about is this, and it baffles me to see people so willing to transfer the horrors of our history to other people.
I had a lovely conversation in DMs in response to the first post, about how zionism encourages us to isolate rather than build bridges in the places where we live all over the world. We can't ignore the way antisemitism saturates culture, but we should also remember the places where Jewish communities thrived for centuries, the places where our neighbors protected us. We're hated, and we're loved. Each form of oppression is unique, so no other group experiences what Jewish people do exactly, but we're not alone. We have a long and rich history of solidarity with other marginalized communities and involvement in liberation movements. We're actively working to make the world safer, and we have people fighting with us. I'm just participating in this fight where I am. The struggle for liberation is a human struggle. You can't use the trauma of antisemitism to silence me about other kinds of bigotry.
Never again. To ANYONE.
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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 9 months
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My dear lgbt+ kids, 
I can’t drive. I do not have a drivers license, I never even took any drivers ed. 
For a while, as a teenager/new adult, this was very very embarrassing. It felt like everyone around me was swapping stories about their instructors and classes, they’d discuss how their driving tests went, they’d proudly announce they got their license… and I sat there quietly, couldn’t contribute anything to the conversation and when people asked me how my classes are going, I’d have to awkwardly explain that I don’t take any and then would be needled as to why. 
You may expect this post to go the „But now I am older and more confident and that’s why I’m no longer ashamed“ route, but it won’t. Because quite frankly? I do not need to be confident about it anymore - because nobody cares anymore. 
You see, back then drivers licenses were a big deal. People my age talked so much about them because my age at that time was the typical age to get one. But obviously the people my age got older alongside with me. And at my age now, people just don’t talk about drivers ed anymore. It doesn’t come up in conversations anymore. I may say that I don’t own a car and people will either go “okay” and the conversation moves on or they will go “cool” and we talk about how bad cars are for the environment. Nobody has asked me in ages if I have a drivers license, let alone demanded an explanation why I don’t have one. 
Obviously all of this has nothing to do with being lgbt+ - but it’s an example for how life can change. 
Anything that seems like a big deal now, anything that feels painful or embarrassing or isolating now, may simply not matter anymore in ten years. Your environment and circumstances will change.  The priorities of the social groups you are in will change. The groups themselves will change.
That doesn’t fix the Now or means the feelings of the Now are irrelevant. But it can be a comforting thought when you feel like it’ll never get better. 
With all my love, 
Your Tumblr Dad 
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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year
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Imagine being sacrificed to be eaten by some giant eldritch monster by your village due to being human and him just deciding you'll be the mother to his half breed babies and gently picking you up while carrying your face infront of the village who sacrificed you and the mosnter treating you as if you were glass and assuring how good of a dad he'll be
Yay more eldritch beasts! ^_^'
Eldritch beast (Castor) x female reader
Word Count: 1.5k
W: sfw monster fluff, some breeding talk
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“Hurry up!” the mayor of your town snarled as he dragged you behind him. 
“Please! Please don’t do this!” you howled as the sacrificial altar that had been newly built at the base of the mountain came into view. 
You tugged and pulled, trying to get away, but your hands were tied and they’d thrown a loop of rope around your neck, choking you whenever you pulled too hard. 
“Stop sniveling, (Y/N),” he snapped, “you’re a hero! Show some pride! Your sacrifice will bring prosperity to the village. We’ll raise a statue in your honor!” 
You didn’t want a statue, you wanted to go home and for your town to stop all this nonsense. Since they’d had a bad year, the crops failing and winter coming far sooner than they expected, somehow they’d gotten it into their heads that a sacrifice to the mountain spirit would bring them good fortune. Of course, you knew it was all superstition, but the rest of the town agreed with the mayor. Being the only dissenter at the meeting they’d held to announce their plan, you were chosen to be the sacrifice. 
Tears leaked down your cheeks as you were tightly strapped to the stone altar while the rest of your town gathered around to watch. 
The mayor cleared his throat and stood in front of you facing the mountain. 
“Oh great mountain spirit we come to you with this humble offering! We see the error of our ways and present to you the fairest maiden from our village as penance for our mistakes! We honor you with this gift of flesh…” 
His speech went on and on, full of apologies, lies, and pleas for a good harvest.
– 
Castor’s ears perked as he made his way through the woods on his usual hunting route. He hardly paid attention to the village at the base of his mountain, humans were annoying and noisy so he avoided them at all costs, but this time there was an odd scent on the wind. It was a sweet scent. A scent he quite liked. He crept down the mountain on his many thick tentacles and peered through the trees to find an odd sight. 
The townspeople were all assembled at some strange stone table they’d erected. His eyes focused on you, strapped to the table, while a man stood over you squawking about something or another. He blinked at you, examining you from afar with his excellent eyesight, assisted by his many eyes. 
He usually didn’t bother in human affairs, but as he sniffed the air he discovered it was you that smelled so nice. What were the silly humans doing to you? When the stocky man yelling into the forest pulled out a bejeweled blade and waved it at you he found himself barrelling through the trees, flattening them as his bulk plowed through. He couldn’t let them hurt you!
The mayor’s eyes grew huge as he took in the massive beast looming over you, his large teeth bared and shining claws raised, and he froze where he stood.
“STOP!” Castor boomed in an ethereal and very deep voice that shook the leaves on the trees and made the mayor drop his sword with a clang. 
While the rest of your town trembled and watched, he turned his attention to you, your cheeks streaked with glittering tears. You were so incredibly frightened your scream was caught in your throat and you only let out a miserable whimper. 
The beast examining you was massive, moving on a tangle of thick tentacles. His torso was like a man’s but with a large mouth filled with dripping teeth in the center. There was no mouth on his face, only ten eyes blinking down at you with a look that might be…gentle? 
You found yourself a bit stunned and confused, searching his eyes as he studied you.
“Oh great mountain spirit!” your mayor broke in with a shaky voice, “p-please accept this sacrifice of fresh, beautiful meat to sate your hunger and soothe your anger! Bring us a good harvest and spare us game for our hunt!” 
Castor almost laughed. Sate his hunger? Bring a good harvest? He had no idea what the man was talking about. As you had suspected, Castor had nothing to do with the weather or the harvest. He simply lived in the mountain because it was a nice home away from humans. 
The last thing he wanted to do was eat you. You looked so pretty lying there, your hair fanned out around your face. He drifted closer to you, exploring you with his sensitive tentacles. Your skin was soft and smooth, feeling quite nice when he touched it and you smelled incredible. Like a mate. Your town watched eagerly with anticipation. They were sure if he killed you and ate you all of their problems would be solved. 
You felt his curious tentacles wind their way around your limbs, the little suckers exploring and tasting as they moved. Though your heart pounded in your chest, he didn’t seem to want to eat you. For one, his large gaping mouth was closed and his eyes were examining you very carefully…but not like food. His look was a different kind of hunger. 
“You’ll make a pretty wife, little human,” he said with incredible softness. 
“W-what?” you heard yourself squeak. 
He didn’t answer, but very gently snapped the straps holding you to the table and lifted you up into his two clawed arms, cradling you like you were fine china. 
“She’s for me?” he asked the mayor, still curious what exactly the town had been planning to do with you. 
“P-please! Gorge yourself on her tender flesh and gift us your favor!” the mayor went on. 
Castor opened his big mouth and laughed heartily, making everyone in the area tremble. 
“Foolish humans,” he boomed, “I have no interest in your petty problems, but I will accept your offering. Best of luck!” 
With a chuckle he hurried off into the woods, with you tucked in his arms, much faster than anyone could follow, leaving the townsfolk staring after him, their mouths agape. 
You peered up at him from around his biceps. 
“Y-you’re not going to improve the harvest?” you asked. 
“I’m not a god, that’s not within my power,” he snorted, “but I am very happy with their sacrifice.” 
He booped you on the nose with one of his claws and you blinked. 
“Th-then what are you going to do with me?” you questioned. 
A huge smile appeared on his large mouth, exposing his jagged, shiny teeth. 
“I’m going to make you my mate and fill you with my babies,” he explained. 
Your face blanched and he frowned. 
“Don’t be frightened,” he said, a tentacle stroking your head reassuringly, “I’ll take the very best care of you and be very gentle. You are my precious darling. I’m going to dress you in the warmest furs and keep you nice and cozy in my den. While those silly humans starve, scraping around in the dirt, I’m going to make you perfectly plump with the tenderest cuts of meat and the ripest fruits.” 
You considered the monster carrying you. He wasn’t exactly handsome in a normal human way, but he did smell nice, a bit like pine and moss, and his tentacles were very gentle. You certainly were in no danger if he was protecting you and being fed by a skilled hunter sounded much better than starving in your village. 
“O-okay,” you murmured as another tentacle lightly pinched your cheek, “my name’s (Y/N), what’s your name?” 
“Castor,” he said, preening with your interest in him. 
“I-I’m flattered you chose me,” you started, “but I’m not sure I’ll make a good mother to your babies.” 
A snort escaped his lips and the random tentacles he had wound around your limbs squeezed you just slightly. 
“You are sweet and small,” he assured you, “you’ll make a wonderful mother and I’m very responsible. I’ll help you through it. You won’t be alone. We’ll raise our children together…one big happy family.” 
While he carried you up the mountain, the snow started to fall silently around you signaling that winter had truly started and as you chatted with him about his life you felt yourself grow more and more relaxed in his warm arms. Finally, the adrenaline from the events of the day draining from you, you drifted off to sleep. When you woke up again, your new life would begin. 
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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months
Text
Kung
Hardersson x Daughter!Reader
Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: The last member of the family
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When you come in, you're cradling a blanket.
Natalia frowns. It's the blanket you kept in the car for Prins after a trip to the beach, so he didn't scatter sand all over your interior. It rarely comes into the house unless it's to be washed and it got washed two days ago. That's not nearly enough time for it to be due another one.
You look nervous too, bashfully dropping eye contact when Talia makes it.
"Amor?" She asks," What's wrong? Has something happened?"
"I'm sorry," You say, blurting it out as you cradle the bundled-up blanket closer to your chest," It's just...They were bullying him! And he was so cold! Talia, he was shaking! And I couldn't just leave him there!"
"Mi vida." Natalia stands, her hands reaching out for you. "You are not making any sense. Tell me what has happened. Who was being bullied?"
Slowly, you unravel the blanket.
A little bunny is sitting there. His ears are slightly covering his eyes and his little nose wiggles as he takes in his new surroundings. His fur is kind of fuzzy and a beautiful light tan colour.
"I went to that bakery you like, that one in the middle of the park? And he was being bullied by the crows! They kept pecking at him and one of them tried to snatch him up! I'm sorry but I couldn't leave him there!"
You look close to tears like you expect Natalia to be mad at you for bringing this poor, defenceless bunny into your home.
"All the vets are closed," You say," Just one night! Please, Talia! Just one night!"
Natalia shakes her head fondly at you, reaching up to cradle your face in her hands. "I love you so much, amor. You have such a big heart."
"He can stay?"
"Of course he can stay. Do we know how old he is?"
Panic flashes over your face again as you shake your head. "He's so little? Do you think he still needs milk? Oh god, what if the birds traumatised him and now he won't eat?!"
"Amor," Talia says," Let's not jump to the worst case. I'll go and grab some things we can try. Why don't you settle down and introduce him to the others?"
"There's cakes in my bag!" You call after her and she just laughs in response.
You take a seat on the sofa and gently take the little bunny into your arms. He's perfectly content to sit there, not moving as his chest rises and falls in sync with yours.
Reina is lazing around on the top of her cat tree, stretching out as she peers down at where Prins is wagging his tail in his bed. He's got his favourite duck toy sitting next to him and sometimes he nudges it with his nose in an attempt to get Reina to play with him.
"Prins," You say," Kom (come)."
He does so immediately, padding over and sitting at your feet.
You gently move the rabbit to his eyeline but not close enough for him to reach for it.
"Dette er en kanin (this is a rabbit)."
Prins tilts his head to the side in interest and you very carefully move so he can sniff it. The rabbit seems nonplussed by this whole thing, bumping noses with Prins happily and practically purring at the joy of it all.
Prins seems happy too, his tail wagging furiously and he keeps looking over at Reina, as if to introduce her to his new friend.
"Reina?" You call softly and your girlfriend's cat turns her head to look at you. You tsk to beckon her over and she does so begrudgingly, her silky fur showing that she's been recently brushed.
She takes the more assertive route than Prins did, meandering over and sticking her face all over the little rabbit's body. She sniffs him curiously before dragging her tongue over his head like she did when she first met Prins.
"No," You say when she tries to pick him up," Sorry, Reina, I don't think he has a scruff."
She looks a little disgruntled at that but swipes her tongue over him a few more times before she's seemingly satisfied. She leaps down from the sofa and herds a whining Prins away so she can groom him instead.
Prins looks at you completely betrayed as you allow him to be shepherded away but you just shake your head fondly at him.
"We'll take him to the vet tomorrow," Natalia says as she comes back," And I think I've still got Reina's old travel case so he can sleep in that for the night. How did introducing them go?"
You smile. "I think Reina thinks he's a kitten and Prins seems happy to make a new friend. They might be sad when we give him up."
Talia gives you a pointed look that you can't quite decipher. One of her hands gently scratches between the bunny's ears (who immediately goes limp and starts making a noise akin to purring) while the other gently cards through your hair, twisting random strands around her finger.
"Just them? I think you'll be sad too if we let this little guy go."
"Maybe a little." Your brows are scrunched up, a crinkle appearing between them as you hold the little bunny.
"I think that's a good enough reason to keep this guy around."
"Really?"
"Really, mi vida. I think this little guy is adorable. I'd love to keep him if you do."
It took you weeks to let your mothers know about the new member of the family. Kung the bunny had become a staple in the house. He fit in perfectly and, just like his namesake, thought that he was in charge of it all.
Multiple times, you had caught him taking over Reina's car tree and thumping his foot when you didn't give him his dinner fast enough.
But, Kung's favourite thing was when you and Talia wore sweatshirts. He adored wiggling into the front pocket and taking a nap there when you had a lazy day.
He enjoyed the beach too, exploring it on a leash like Reina as you tired Prins out by kicking a ball for him.
Kung fit into your life so well that you completely forgot to tell your mothers until you were on a video call at the kitchen table.
Talia pops in to greet them, pressing a soft kiss to your ticklish neck as she appeared.
"I'm heading out to see Patri," She says," Can I have you give his royal highness? He's being clingy again."
You beam. "I'll always take him."
"I know. I love you, amor."
"Love you, Talia."
She carefully removes Kung from her front pocket to hand him to you. He's still very small and easily fits into your arms without even waking up from his nap.
"Is that a rabbit, Princesse?" Momma asks, catching a glimpse of Kung's floppy ears.
You cheeks go a little red when you realise that she has no idea who he is. You hold him up so she can see better.
"This is Kung," You say," We got him a few weeks ago. Some birds were bullying him so I brought him home."
Morsa laughs. "Of course you did. We're lucky all you ever brought home was that rock when you were younger."
Your face gets even more red. "There was nothing wrong with Rocky!"
Morsa just keeps laughing. "And naming him Kung? You really like a theme, Princesse."
"How long until Natalia has to change her name to fit this theme?" Momma picks up the teasing too. "Will the royal family be deigning to visit us anytime soon?"
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inbarfink · 2 months
Text
I think a lot about the Concept of ‘choices that matter’ in video games. Like, in terms of what it is that makes a choice ‘really matter’, what do we perceive as a choice that matters or has a consequence, how do different games with different amounts of branching or non-branching storylines play with those ideas…  Especially because Undertale is one of my favorite games of all time, and it has often been hyped as ‘a game where your choices REALLY matter’ and… honestly, I dunno if all of this hype was fully conducive to Undertale.  Because the way it handles the concept of Video Game Choices is actually a lot more interesting and complex than that simplistic descriptor makes it seem.
Because Undertale actually has a lot of choices that ‘don’t really matter’! Lots of dialogue choices and silly little decisions that on a first playthrough seem like they’re some sort of moral choice or a branching plotline but end up always leading to basically the same result regardless of what you do!
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And the game doesn’t really try to hide the fact that these choices are kinda 'Fake'. I mean, on a first playthrough a player might assume there’s gonna be some Massive Consequences for picking the ‘wrong’ drink on Undyne’s date, but the game’s narrative expects for there to be multiple playthroughs and pretty much every Choice that Doesn’t Matter is peppered with that Undertale brand of wacky character-focused humor that inherently makes the moment memorable. Papyrus leading Undyne straight to you no matter what you do is basically a cross-timeline running gag.
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On some level I see this as a sort of gag that serves as meta-commentary about the expectations around Choices That Matter in Video Games. As in, a lot of games have their Moral Choices happen in clearly easily marked ‘this is a Moral Choice!’ moments within the story, while the actual gameplay (and any violence the player might cause as part of said gameplay) is basically entirely divorced from any element of narrative-branching and doesn't effect the story at all. Undertale basically entirely inverts this dynamic; the most important factor for which Route you’re own is how you handle your FIGHTs, and what seems like clearly-marked and obvious Moral Choices are just goofy insubstantial minor changes in dialogue. 
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But also… there is also a level where you must ask yourself ‘what does it mean when we say that these choices Don’t Matter’. I mean, it’s not like they didn't change anything about the game, the Player still made the character say that other thing, the choice probably led to an alternate piece of dialogue, probably a joke with a call-back at the end of the game… The line between a one-off joke and an actual story-changing moment can be a little blurry if you look at it too deeply.
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For example, near the end of the Waterfall part of the game, the Player is given the choice to save Monster Kid even at the risk of having to face down Undyne.
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Pretty much anyone who isn’t deliberately trying to be an asshole is going to rush to save them and obviously that includes the Pacifist Route Players. But you can actually leave Monster Kid to die without it 'mattering' in the sense that it wouldn't divert you from the Pacifist Route. Undyne saves them instead of you, and ends up with slightly less HP for her battle (which might Matter for Runs when you try and FIGHT her but obviously not in Pacifist Runs) and… by the end of the game, during the extremely happy True Pacifist Ending, they still clearly remember that you abandoned them and are upset by it.
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So… does saving Monster Kid ‘matter’ or not? On one hand, choosing not to save them mostly just changes a few lines of dialogue but… these lines of dialogue kinda recontextualize this happy ending and the Player’s actions in general. Despite the True Pacifist Ending otherwise portraying the Player/Frisk as a kind-hearted and brave hero... they still did this undeniably cowardly (and perhaps even cruel) act to one of their friends .
Was running away and leaving Monster Kid to die a brief but significant moment of weakness that the Player regrets and has cost them what could’ve been the start of a lovely friendship? Or is that simply that being a True Pacifist was always more of a matter of pragmatism rather than ideals? Were they only acting as a Pacifist to get that promised 'Best Ending', and only Monster Kid has an inkling they are not as heroic or kind as everyone thinks they are?
And then there’s the Snowman ‘quest’.
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A free healing item given early in the game, with your mission being to carry it along in your inventory for as long as you can without ever consuming it. The only reward you will ever see from it is a few lines of dialogue…
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But for many, it is more than enough of an incentive to preserve the Snowman’s Piece. You can do whatever you want with the Snowman without it ‘mattering’ in terms of Ending or consequences. You could carry it through all of your adventures with care and kindness... or you could eat it while he can’t see you and then go back to him and tell him that you ‘lost’ it and then get another piece and eat that as well, you could eat it right in front of his face, horrifying him. 
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And much like with Monster Kid, you can STILL get the True Pacifist Ending after doing that, all that would change is a few optional pieces of dialogue from the Snowman… 
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And a total recontextualization of the Player’s behavior and the ending. The Snowman sees the Player as a cruel and heartless person who is just pretending to be good so they can be liked - the way they acted with this immobile, powerless Snowman who could do nothing for them and their reputation reveals their true self. And he says their friends will realize that too one day...
Doing a True Reset on the Pacifist Ending is, by definition, a (almost) consequence-free action and yet it changes future Pacifist Routes immeasurably. Turning the Player into a Hypocrite doing the exact same thing they were trying to stop Flowey/Asriel from doing - trapping all of their friends into a time-loop so they can play with them forever while never actually letting them to enjoy freedom on the surface, simply because they are not willing to move on or put their friends' wishes and agency above their own. Nothing in the game actually changes, not one character can even suspect that you did something like that, and yet for the Player - this choice makes the entire Meaning of the game flip on its head. 
Even the most famous and heavily-toted Big Consequence in the whole game - selling your soul to Chara after completing a Murder Route… mostly what it does is just… recontextualize the ending of the Game.
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As a game, ‘Undertale’ is very much about the ways in which a Player engages with a game can radically recontextualize it. The huge chasm of difference between the Pacifist and Muder Routes is just the most literal example of it. But, in a way, even the tiny little Dialogue Options - where the lack of real choice and consequences is Obviously a Joke - matter. Because of the way they can recontextualize the Player Character’s behavior.
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(Okay, maybe not this one, but hear me out…)
Do you trust Papyrus to not betray you, even after you spied on him with Undyne?
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Do you have the integrity to admit you forgot something or got it wrong even when there’s no consequences for just lying about it?
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Are you a hypocrite for trying to get Alphys to be truthful with Undyne only to then immediately turn around and lie to Undyne yourself?  
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None of these choices matter for the ending, some of them don’t even get, like, a call-back joke or anything, but… if you are engaged in this story as a narrative, if you are invested in these characters as if they were people, if you are honestly trying to be the best person you can be, if you are trying to self-reflect at the way you approach this game… even the silliest little dialogue option can suddenly be imbued with deep implications and you can make them matter. 
Undertale is one of the best demonstrations of this concept, but this is absolutely not exclusive to it. For example….
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‘Ace Attorney’ is pretty much as far away as you can get from a ‘branching narrative’ within the video game sphere. It is a heavily-linear Visual Novel where 70% of the time it won’t even let you talk to random characters at anything but the exact order it expects you to and any ‘Bad Endings’ are basically just glorified Game Over Screens. (... because this is the Internet and something something piss on the poor, I should probably specify that I am talking about ‘Ace Attorney’ because I love Ace Attorney and these are neutral descriptions of the game and not complaints. There’s nothing wrong with a game being linear.) 
If there’s any Dialogue Choice in AA, it’s generally a very basic ‘right answer-wrong answer’ choice between Progress and a Penalty, or a total non-choice that just gets you to the same final result regardless. Except… Well… as we just talked about, getting to the same final result doesn’t necessarily mean a choice is ‘meaningless’, does it?
There’s actually a lot of great storytelling moments where Ace Attorney, despite its otherwise strict linearity, uses this exact sort of recontextualizing mindset I’ve talked about with Undertale to make choices with some really powerful emotional impact…. Even if technically, the ending is the same ending. It can be something as basic as ‘even if picking this Wrong Answer doesn’t get me a penalty, it still embarrassed my character and disappointed my friends/rivals and thus I feel bad for picking it’. Consequences as recontextualizing your character as more incompetent than they should’ve come across at that moment.
And then there’s moments like the iconic ending of ‘Justice for All’. That moment before Franziska bursts into the Courtroom with the case-making evidence and saves the day. The moment where it seems like Phoenix really is gonna have to pick between protecting his best friend and carrying out a rightful sentence.
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The player gets to pick between the two options, but Phoenix never gets to say his choice out loud before Franziska comes running in... and yet… he, and the player, still made that choice. Even if no one ever has to experience the consequences of your choice, even if the rest of the world has no idea what Phoenix Wright would’ve chosen if the Miracle hadn’t happened, we know what we picked and that knowledge of the choice matters. Because of how we feel about this choice and what it says about our interpretation of Phoenix… and about us.
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There’s also a bit of this ludonarrative device in ‘The Great Ace Attorney: Adventures’. During “The Adventures of the Runaway Room”, when you investigate the Omnibus for the second time and start finding things that… don’t quite fit together. When you’re finally starting to make progress with proving McGilded’s innocence, while also maybe starting to notice that something is… wrong with these pieces of evidence. 
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The unchanging linear narrative of the game is that Ryunosuke does eventually realizes McGilded's trickery, puts truth ahead of victory in court and yet, despite his effort and good intentions - the case still ends with a false Not Guilty verdict. And yet, the Player has the choice to... tweak the details.
There are several points where Ryunosuke can object, where he can call out the inconsistencies even though they help his case, where he can support Van Zieks in his accusations of tempered evidence... or he can not. Not necessarily intentionally misleading the Court as much as subconsciously trying to ignore the inconsistencies in the name of trusting his client.
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And yet… in the end it doesn’t matter. Maybe Susato calls out the inconsistency instead of him, maybe Van Zieks does, maybe it remains uncontested but... no matter what you do, the case will end with a Not Guilty verdict (I mean, I guess you can deliberately fail the game but that will not progress the plot), McGilded doesn’t seem like he held a grudge (in the few minutes he had left to live), and a few cases later - Ryunosuke would always be punished for his part at this false verdict.
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So it doesn’t really matter what Ryunosuke did back then? Does it matter if he did his best and called out every single inconsistencies or if he kinda half-assed it until he (and the Player) had to? He’s still going to suffer the same consequences down the line. And yet….
And yet, I think there’s something so powerful about giving us that option. About knowing that Ryunosuke, and we, did try and do something about McGilded's dirty tricks- even if it didn’t work. Or alternative, knowing that there was more that Ryunosuke and us could’ve done even if it was not nearly enough. Even if in the eyes of the game and the British Justice system there is no difference, the fact that we know what did and what we could’ve done can radically change the way the player feels about all of the later scenes concerning the truth about McGilded’s trial. It can radically change the way the player interpret Ryunosuke’s feelings about it as well.
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Because even though the game itself keeps playing along with the same script regardless, that trial had irrevocable consequences for the Player.
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priyajoyyy · 2 months
Text
Tangled
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Clarisse la rue x repunzel!pesephone!fem!reader
Reader spent their entire life hidden away in a tower to protect her from the outside world wanting her for her powers, its only when a certain daughter of ares finds her scared and confused, that she finally gets to see the outside world like she always longed to.
Warnings:
Toxic parents, yandere!parents, oblivious!, Clarisse being stubborn, overprotectiveness, cannon typical violence, readers not got the best survival instincts 😭, reader is blonde, more to come maybe
Gods had a weird way of protecting people. And while you could confidently say they your parents were never intending to harm you or your siblings. They definitely went about it in weird ways.
Of course you never realised this, being locked away in a tower your entire life was all you even knew. You didn’t understand that your life wasn’t normal.
You didn’t realise you weren’t the only child your parents had hidden off in magical locations to protect them from Zeus and the dangers of the world in their own twisted ways.
And so you stayed where you were, waiting in your tower for the days that your parents would come and visit or the few creatures of the forest you had befriended came to your window.
With not much else to do but paint or read everyday in the same walls. Your hair growing and failing to ever stop, getting to the point of it being constantly in the way.
🍊☀️🪷
Clarisse was beyond confused.
She was 150% sure they had come the same way they had 100 times before. She was convinced. And yet there had never been a giant tower int he middle of the path all the other times they had taken this route.
Her brother suggested that maybe they took a wrong turning, surely they were just lost.
But Clarisse refused to acknowledge the idea she could even being wrong, no she was curtain they came the right way.
Besides they needed somewhere to camp out for the night anyway, so she took off towards the tower.
“Clarisse what are you doing?” Her brother shouted after her, the girl from the Hermes cabin turning to give him a look of annoyance.
The two followed after the girl, watching for a while as she searches around for some sort of entrance before giving up and turning back to them.
“Come on, we need to find a way up” Clarisse tells the two, not being able to find any sort of entrance other than the window near the top of the tower.
“Why?” The blonde girl asked in annoyance, “can’t we just go find somewhere to settle for the night?”
“Yeah clarisse it’s getting late, we can find our bearings in the morning” her brother added.
“This is somewhere to settle for the night” Clarisse stated plainly, rolling her eyes when the two stared at her in confusion, “it’s a giant tower in the middle of nowhere with no doors…no one’s living up there”
“I don’t know Clarisse…I mean this is meant to be a satyr trail, surely someone’s up there” the boy tried to reason.
“Aren’t you curious?” Clarisse asked, “I know we came the right way, this part of the route is blocked off, there is literally no way we got lost”
She was right, this small section of the trail was hidden away, you could only get in and out through two small entrance/exits, covered by plant life to hide it off.
They had been through the secret path a million times and never once was the tower there.
“Well how do you expect we get up?” The girl asked in defeat.
Clarisse looks around for a moment, before grabbing the bag off of her back and pulling out two daggers and holding them up to the two.
“No” the elder boy stated, to which Clarisse turned and made her way towards the walls of the tower, grabbing onto the vines to test their strength, “no no no Clarisse stop it right now”
The girl ignored him, stabbing the dagger into the wall inbetween the cracks and using both of them and the vines to begin to pull herself up the wall.
“I swear to god Clarisse get down right now!”
“I’ll see if there’s another way to get up once I’m up there” Clarisse calls down to them as they stare at her dumbstruck.
“I’m gonna kill you when you get down!” he called up to her.
“I hate your sister” the blonde said to the boy nonchalantly, collapsing to sit on the floor and wait for the ares daughter to be done you her adventure so they could get to bed.
“Tell me about it” the boy replied glaring up at her as she made her way to the top.
Clarisse made her way up, using the, surprisingly strong vines and plants growing off of the tower as her main support on the way up.
Once she made it to the window she pulled herself up on to the ledge, looking down to see her quest mates sat on the ground talking, rolling her eyes at the sight.
She quietly forced the shutters of the large window open, stepping on the flower bed as she climbed through into the room.
🍊☀️🪷
You hadn’t heard anything while Clarisse had been climbing up the walls, busy in your room painting as she entered into the main room of the tower.
Your hair was laid around the different rooms, leading through doors and hanging from ceilings in an attempt to keep it out of your way, something Clarisse stared at in confusion as she quietly wondered around the room.
She was clearly wrong about no one living in the tower, there were candles and lights lit across the room, and a fire lit int he fireplace.
The kitchen was full of food and everything was relatively clean. And not to mention the yards and yards of hair laid across the place.
That’s what confused Clarisse the most, surely no human had this much hair.
She was shocked out of her thoughts when she stepped backwards, tripped on some of said hair and fell onto the floor, alerting you in the other room.
You heard the noise and turned around quickly, your hair curling round you slightly causing it to tug, getting caught underneath Clarisse and yank on your head slightly. Making you squeak in shock.
Clarisse heard this from the other room, her eyes widening as she looking towards the doors that someone clearly resided in.
Both of you grabbed your weapons, Clarisse clutching one of her daggers, and you running to grab a vase off of a cabinet. Inching your way towards the door that separated the two of you as Clarisse stood up.
Clarisse started to walk up the stairs towards the door as you walked down the hallway, both of you stopping at the door before Clarisse decided to push through it suddenly.
You screamed as the mystery girl collapsed on top of her, hair covering your face as you flailed about, trying to get her off of you as she try’s to find the dagger that she lost on the floor.
“Get off of me” you grunted, pushing the hair out of your eyes and attempting to push her off of you, “who are you?”
Clarisse finally finding her dagger, held it to your throat, causing you to stop fighting back, breathless and staring at the weapon in her hand with wide eyes.
“Who are you?” Clarisse retorted, glaring down at the girl as if she wasn’t the one breaking and entering.
“You’re in my home” you say back in shock, frowning at how the knife gets closer to you.
“And I’m holding the dagger…see how this works?” Clarisse tells you with a smirk, flipping it in her hand as she kept it near your throat.
“I-I’m y/n…” you replied slowly, not knowing what to tell her. Looking at her with wide eyes as she huffs in realisation that it wasn’t the most helpful question to ask.
“Well why do you live here?” Clarisse asks noticing the way the girl looked confused and adding, “I mean you’re in the middle of the forest in a tower with no doors…”
“And I mean what’s going on with your hair, it’s so long” Clarisse continued, “and who uses a vase as a weapon?”
You didn’t really know what to say to any of that, looking at her blankly.
“I…don’t know” you answered eventually, adding in a small voice, “can you please get off of me”
Clarisse sighed, getting up slowly but still holding the dagger pointed towards her as she did.
“Why are you in my house?” You asked meekly, staring at the dagger in fear. Clarisse rolled her eyes noticing your wariness, putting the dagger down to her side to try calm you down.
“I’m not gonna hurt you unless you try anything ok?” Clarisse stated, “I was just looking to see if we could stay the night in here, I didn’t realised anyone lived here or anything”
“We?”
“My friends, well not really my friends but, well they’re just outside” Clarisse told you, “why are you in a tower by yourself exactly? And seriously what’s going on with your hair”
“I just live here…I don’t know what you mean” you answered, “and I guess it’s just my hair…my mum says it’s special”
“Your mum? Special how what do you mean”
“I don’t know it just is” you said, “w-wait, no, I’m not meant to tell anyone that”
Clarisses eyebrows furrowed at that, looking at you as though you were an idiot causing you to blush at her.
“Why can’t you tell anyone about your hair…” Clarisse asked.
“Mummy said not to” you said hesitantly.
Clarisse smirked at that, only seconds ago you said you couldn’t tell anyone and yet here you were continuing on with the subject.
“And mummy is?” She asked condescendingly, something you didn’t pick up on as you went to answer.
“Ummm Persephone…” you responded simply.
“What?” Clarisse asked in confusion, looking at you like you were mad. Sure, she knew you couldn’t be mortal, but a demigod?
She supposed the flowers and plants in full bloom in autumn made sense by that, it didn’t quite explain the hair but she was sure it had something to do with that.
“You’re a demigod?” She asked in confusion.
“What?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at her, “what’s that?”
Clarisse stared at you for a moment, you felt like she was scrutinising your entire existence as she looked you up and down.
Suddenly she grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the door, you stumbling as she continued down the stairs towards the main room of the tower and leaving you stood in the middle.
You watched her as she made her way to the window, opening it again and shouting down at her ‘friends’ she told you about earlier.
“It’s all safe” Clarisse shouted, before turning back to you, “do you have any rope?”
You looked at her in shock that she was just inviting people inside your home, speaking when she sent you a look of annoyance, “no?”
Clarisse looked around the room for a moment before settling on your hair that hung around the room, turning back to you with a new look in her eyes.
“You sure?” Clarisse asked, leaning down to pick up your hair and hold it up for you to see.
“W-what? No you can’t use my hair!” You told her, rushing forward to remove it from clarisses hands leaving you stood right in front of her.
She looked down at you with a smirk, taking the hair back, “come on, they won’t hang from it or anything, they just need something to hold for leverage to get up”
You rolled your eyes with a pout at that, looking up at her before walking towards the window, looking down at the two on the ground, who were now beyond confused at the blonde girl appearing.
You leant over to reach the walls of the tower then, Clarisse running over to hold on to you as you stumbled slightly, “be careful!”
You blushed feeling her hands on your hips, shaking yourself out of it and leaning down to touch the plants and vines attached to the stone.
Clarisse watched as the plants grew, covering the side of the wall all over and bits of vines hanging down for the two at the bottom to hold on to.
Once it was fully grown you turned back around to Clarisse, underestimating how close you both were when you did so.
You smiled up at the shocked look on her face, proud of yourself for figuring out a solution to the situation, hearing clarisses brother begin to scale up the side of the wall as you and Clarisse faced each other.
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Wanna rewatch tangled now 🤩
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gremlingottoosilly · 10 months
Text
[If you need to be mean] chapter 2
Chapter 1
Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)
Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective
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— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining. 
Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression. 
But something good did happen – you happen, of course. 
He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago! 
— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi. 
— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses. 
— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy. 
— And she wasn’t? 
König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you. 
— No. 
— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it. 
— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay. 
— We might as well rebel if they’d try to. 
— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route. 
— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games. 
Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military. 
The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this. 
But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material. 
You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people. 
He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine. 
But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model. 
But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic. 
It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous. 
The problem is – he knows that he can have you. 
Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after. 
He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize. 
You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.
You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is. 
You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines. 
You under…
— Can I…can I take your order, sir? 
He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you. 
He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money. 
God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again. 
God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.
— Sir, is everything okay? 
He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger. 
— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean. 
He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much! 
But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…
— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert? 
This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control. 
— No. Just coffee. 
— Sugar? 
He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure. 
König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes. 
— Ja. Thank you. 
— Good choice, sir.
Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out. 
But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half. 
Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here. 
You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him. 
König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes. 
— Here is your coffee. Anything else? 
You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle. 
He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country. 
You still want to ruffle his hair. 
He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his. 
— Nein, thank you. 
He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right? 
Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died. 
König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting. 
You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament. 
König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not. 
He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days. 
He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly. 
He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you. 
— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…
You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…
— It was a tip. Take it. 
He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills. 
He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too. 
— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir. 
— Don’t wander at night again. 
He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts. 
— I won’t. Promise. 
He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…
— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that. 
You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit. 
König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go. 
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