#AND I GOT F AS A RESULT ON EASY MODE

[wtylas]

had a surreal day today

[treysimp]

Do You Wanna Make Out On My Couch? (Explicit Remix)

Side: Ignihyde (Idia)/AFAB!Reader (Reader has a vagina)

Idia/AMAB!Reader Version

The time has come, lovely readers, for a spicy conclusion.

This is a continuation of the work "Do You Want to Make Out on My Couch (Part 4)". Said fic is also included below if you want to re-read the beginning or this is your first time seeing this work.

Reader not described other than their junk, and pronouns are not used for them.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, M/F sexual relations, handjobs, oral sex, questionable use of the word "smoocharoo", ask to tag for more.

SFW Works in this series:

Savannahclaw | Scarabia | Octinavielle | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Heartslabyul | Diasomnia

To skip straight to the action, scroll to the second picture of Idia, thanks!

“…are you okay? Did you like… hit your head or something?”

Idia flatly questioned you, his shoulders shrugged up to his ears and his eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare. It was very him to be so blasé and sarcastic at the first sign of vulnerability, but you had to admit you were a bit hurt. You were putting yourself out there, you know?

“Are you really going to pretend that I am not into your cringe ass at this point? Who do you take me for?” You spat, crossing your arms with a huff. If he was going to play dumb, you were simply going to drive him into a corner until he couldn’t.

“Cringe? You’re cringe! You couldn’t even beat BloodScorne without my help, and you put it on easy mode!” He threw back, his glare melting into a sardonic smile that showed off the razor-sharp teeth behind his cool-tinted lips. “Fake gamer.” He finished with a shrug, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. 

“I can and have beat it! I just did that so you’d spend time with me, moron!” Oh this bitch, you were going to kill his skinny ass.

“Moron! Are you kidding me? You’re the moron! Asking me to make out with you out of nowhere when I’m clearly in love with you, how stupid can you get?” 

Your expression curled into a smirk equally as fast as Idia’s face fell in horror.

“So you’re in love with me?” You ask triumphantly. An eyebrow quirked in mock derision. You tilted your head to the side in faux-curiosity. And this guy says he’s a genius, pfft.

“Ah…” eyes wide, shoulders trembling and hair flickering pink at the tips, Idia suddenly finds the ground under his shoes incredibly interesting. 

You could barely hear him mumble, “What does it matter? You’re never going to reciprocate so…” he signed, "...why even try?"

You inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Okay, so it was the self-hate thing. You could work with that.

“Idia. Do you think I go around propositioning randos every damn day?” You say, your eyes crinkling at the corners at the idea. 

Part of why you both got along so well was because of how badly you both were when it came to relationships. It was a common topic of your late-night bitching sessions: 'what awkward thing did you do today?' or 'do you wanna hear this dumb thing I did as a kid' or 'wow I relate to this anime I just watched, it's about this loser gamer who gets a harem' (okay that last one was just Idia).  

His jaw snapped shut. Of course, he didn’t think you went around hitting on strangers! But how could… someone like you… and him…

“Why me?” He asked, “Out of all of your options how could it possibly be me?” He almost felt like crying in disbelief. If he were you... He would never...

“Because we have a lot in common. And because I like oblivious assholes apparently.” You say, rubbing your forehead. You felt a headache coming on.

Feeling driven into a corner, Idia stood in silence. He had imagined this scenario so many times, he had run the calculations in his mind over and over but they never gave him good results. Even in his fantasies, he failed.

Try as he might, Idia was quickly running out of excuses, and the intentional evenness of his voice was long-lost in his squeaky attempts at arguments. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I promise this smoocharoo won’t kill you.” You punctuate your sentence with a wink, which did nothing to calm down Idia as you gently tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Very funny.” He replies flatly. “I almost died, you know.”

You laughed, “Yeah, that would have been a shame.” 

“...I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that suit again though.” You mumble mostly to yourself, but Idia 100% heard you. 

Coincidentally, Idia was also suddenly overcome with the thought of how you would look in formal wear, like if you were to go to a wedding together - ah, no no no not going there! Shut the fuck up, brain Idia! SHUT UP! 

Noticing his distress, you took the opportunity to lean forward to rest your forehead on his. As you suspected, it felt like a furnace. You frowned. 

“Do you have a fever or something? Is that why you don’t want to kiss me?” He had already admitted to liking you, what's the hold-up?

Idia shook his head aggressively, flame hair splaying out frantically at his denial. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, taking in your features and how soft your skin felt against his own. Your eyes gleamed in the dim light, teeth sparkling as you laughed at his frantic head motion and he was hit with a slight scent of mint from the gum he had given you earlier. What would you taste like? Would you also taste like that gum? 

Unthinkingly moving despite his previous over-the-top protests, Idia let that intrusive thought carry himself to your lips in a feather-light peck. 

Your eyes widened, but just as he was about to apologize for his sudden change of mind, you pulled him back in place.

Anime and manga said that kisses felt like marshmallows and tasted like lemon, but he couldn’t say he agreed. 

This one, right here right now? It was mint, and something else warm and wet and entirely unique, but certainly you. He inhaled through his nose as you both continued your soft and shy kisses. 

His hands threaded through your hair to pull you closer and he wondered if all of this was just a very realistic dream. You both separated for a moment, eyes half-lidded and breath coming out in short puffs that were lightly defined in the cold air. 

“Are you going to let me inside?” He asked, feeling newfound confidence pulse through him as he nibbled at your ear. 

He felt the sharp inhale you took against his neck, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was the one making you act like this. No one else. Just him. 

Pulling away from his embrace, you slowly nodded as you opened the door to Ramshackle to let you both inside. 

Idia followed you silently with his hands in his pockets. Despite how warm he felt, burying himself in his hoodie let him think for a moment. He wished you both were in his room right now instead. It would be way more comfortable than… this. 

He supposed that you’re not supposed to complain when the hottest commodity on campus is coming onto you, though. Not that he would dare. As much as he liked to complain, he did like you more… not that he would ever say it out loud.  

You physically pull Idia out of his thoughts when you push him onto the couch gently. He lands with a soft thud and a squeak of surprise. 

Idia really could be cute sometimes, huh? 

You climbed onto his lap, looking down at his face and slowly taking in all of his features. His kohl-lined eyes, his dark lips, the flickers and waves of his hair, you loved all of it. 

It was hard not to stare at him sometimes, his beauty was so otherworldly and yet somehow the only other person who took notice was a damn ghost! 

Not that you minded the lack of competition. 

“Idia…” you breathed, lowering your face down so that your lips almost skimmed his again, “...are you okay with this?” You asked. 

You had been incredibly forward this whole time, but you didn’t want this thing to be one-sided. As much as you would be disappointed, you would back off if he asked. You’ve waited this long, after all. 

Idia was silent, pointed teeth worrying over his lower lip. He seemed to be having a very heated internal debate, but you let him stew in silence for a moment. It was okay not to rush him, as much as you wanted to. 

Finally, with a look of determination, Idia placed his hands on either side of your hips and ground up against you, a whine slipping from his mouth while the rose color that had been dip-dying his hair began spreading slowly upward. 

“Haah…” he exhaled with a hiccup, watery eyes looking up at you pleadingly. 

“Please, don’t stop.”

A smirk spread across your lips as you watched his face as he so desperately begged for you. He thought that he got to be haughty this whole time and you would still indulge him? 

Well okay, he was right but you would never admit it. 

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you say, grinding down even harder on his lap, pretending like you couldn’t decide what to do next.

Clawing at your hips, Idia bucked into you again, desperately seeking friction that he wouldn’t be able to get through the fabric separating you. Looking at the flush on his face you couldn’t help but think that you weren’t going to let this boy sleep tonight without having him scream your name.

Teasingly, you pull yourself from his lap, ignoring the whine from Idia and the way that his hand trails through your hair as he whimpers at the loss of your warm body from his own. 

Snapping open the button of his pants with a flick of your wrist, you opt to go a little showier and pull his zipper down with your teeth, earning a thick swallow from Idia as his eyes once again became as large as saucers.

“You look really good like this.” you chuckle, grasping his waistband to gingerly pull his pants from his hips. Idia obliged you, lifting his hips to allow you to slide the fabric down to his knees. 

You eyed the shape of his bulge in his pants, curiously smoothing your hand over the thin cotton of his boxers. Idia softly gasped, and you continued to trail your hands up his torso. Arriving at his collarbone and tracing it lightly, you gently move to push his jacket from his shoulders and lift his shirt so you could get a view of his chest. 

You weren’t entirely sure how you felt to see that he had a little tone to his chest and waist. Some people won the genetic lottery, you supposed.

“Like what you see?” came a shaky snark from above you. Snapping your gaze to his golden one, Idia’s face was clouded with an air of overwhelming smugness. You grabbed a light blue nipple and rolled it between your thumb and pointer finger in response, earning another harsh breath from him. 

“...yeah. I do,” you say, lowering your face to his unattended-to nipple to slowly run your tongue across it. 

“N-not fair…” he replies, uselessly bucking up himself at you, not able to find purchase in the threadbare fabric of your shitty couch. “Let me do that…” he pleaded, half-lidded gaze intensifying as he pulled you back onto his lap, making quick work of your blouse and jacket and throwing them to the side. 

He stared at you unashamedly, hands drifting behind you to unsnap your bra (but not without a bit of a struggle, which made you giggle and made him bite your neck lightly in annoyance). 

Idia’s hands fell to his side as he stared at you openly. It felt like he was trying to burn this image into his mind forever. You rubbed at your neck anxiously, feeling embarrassed at his prolonged gaze. Snapping back to the present moment, Idia gingerly reached for your chest and began lightly massaging. 

As impossible as it seemed, he was getting even harder below you. Idia curved at the waist to reach you as he mirrored the actions you had taken upon him earlier, giving one nipple the softest of kitten-licks at the other busied itself twisting and pulling on the other. 

Your breath was growing short. It was embarrassing to be like this, embarrassing to see how he was looking at you, but you couldn’t help but want to pinch yourself, flashing back to all of your wet dreams that had paled in comparison to this moment. 

Idia leaned forward and pushed you onto your back slowly, keeping a palm on the back of your head to be sure that you didn’t hit it. 

“Let me taste you… I’m dying to taste you…” he said, sharp teeth gleaming in the low light. You nodded slowly, he could probably ask to kill you at this point and you’d let him.

Making quick work of your bottoms, it suddenly felt significantly colder with the lack of fabric covering your body. You struggled not to cover yourself, but Idia’s hungry gaze and the lick he spread across his lips were certainly helping to distract you.

Feeling warm puffs of air on your navel, you felt a sudden enticingly warm wetness trailing down to right above your pussy. You could hear Idia’s breath speed up as you felt a soft kiss being placed on your lower lips, a scrape of pointed teeth catching them gently. 

Your breath hitched as Idia’s mouth traveled lower, tracing your lips thoroughly with surprisingly dexterous flicks of his tongue. You looked down at him in awe, hand covering your mouth as you panted from his motions.

“It’s even sweeter than I thought,” he said with a chuckle, sparing a piercing glance at you from between your thighs. “Don’t cover your mouth like that, okay?” 

You nodded and lowered your hand just in time for Idia to slowly press a single digit inside of you, his smile widening as he looked at the way your body shook from his actions.

“Mine… you’re mine, right? Right now… all mine…” his words sounded slightly feverish, but you couldn’t help but notice how harshly he was palming himself through his boxers while he continued his motions. 

“I-idia…” you whispered, he lifted his head from watching himself push his fingers in and out of you and looked at you in surprise like he had been caught red-handed.

“Yes?” He said, not stopping his movements for even a second, he might even be pressing harder than he was a moment ago. 

“I want…” you trailed off. What did you want?

“I want to feel you, inside… please.” 

Idia’s eyebrows shot up to the sky as he finally paused his motions. He swallowed thickly and nodded, pushing his boxers down and kicking them (and what little of his pants were around his calves) off of him. 

You had to take a moment to stare. His cock was thickly veined and long, the bloom of the head was the same blue as his lips. You thought you wanted him a moment ago, but you needed him now.

Idia began moving forward towards you, but you pushed back against his chest firmly. Looking at you in confusion, you cleared your throat to explain yourself.

“Let me ride you… please?” You whimpered, looking him straight in the eyes.

Idia did everything he could to not just fucking cum on the spot.

Nodding his head dumbly, Idia stumbled backward and situated himself with his thighs spread and his knees hanging off the couch. His gaze bore into you, and you felt like you might faint.

Gathering all of the bravery you could muster, you climbed in his lap and ground back and forth on his swollen length. Idia’s hand dug into his scalp, and it seemed like he was doing everything he could to not slam you down like a fleshlight and start pounding you right there. You internally decided that you wouldn’t mind if he did, though.

Taking a breath, you grabbed his dick and teased it at your entrance, both of you gasping in tandem at the first contact.

You pushed him back and forth for a moment, teasing the both of you before you were in too deep.

“Will you…” Idia grunted, “just fuck me already.” He continued, “If this takes much longer I…” a strained hiccup, “I’ll just get on top myself…” 

Well, now or never you guessed.

You slowly began lowering yourself onto him, and you felt like you got even wetter when you watched the way his eyes were glued to watching himself slowly sinking into your body. 

Body shivering at finally taking him to his base, Idia laced his fingers through yours and curled up to give you soft kisses on your neck and cheek.

“You okay?” He whispered.

“Yeah, it’s just…” you breathed in hard through your nose, “it’s just a lot.”

Idia started looking smug again, which you took as your cue to start moving, in an effort to wipe that superior look off of his stupid sexy face.

Rocking your hips slowly, you began experimenting to see what felt best. You moved slower, faster, lifted yourself off of him less, more. 

The squelches of your bodies meeting would have mortified you in any other situation, but seeing the sweat drip down Idia’s face while he bit his knuckle left you feeling some kind of way.

You started pulling him out almost completely and then slamming yourself down on him, relishing in how this motion made you both moan loudly in tandem. Idia’s nails were leaving perfect crescent moons on your hips as he gasped and tried to grind up into you every time your body was close to him.

Seemingly having had enough of you setting the pace, Idia pushes you over, your back firmly against the couch and his back to the air of the lounge.

He sets upon devouring your mouth with his, grabbing your right leg behind the knee and pushing it over his shoulder. 

Having you just where he wanted, Idia begins messily pounding into you. Your gasps and calls of his name only spur him to go faster, harder. 

Idia rested his forehead on yours as he split you open within an inch of your life. You felt like a prey animal being hypnotized by the snake that would soon swallow them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Gasping your name and you screaming his in turn, you felt a final slam into your body with a prolonged grind, and Idia cried out a final time. With a couple of weak thrusts of his softening dick, he pulled out of you slowly, keeping eye contact as he did so. 

Smoothing his stray hairs from his sweaty face, you felt like you could almost see the hearts in his eyes at the current moment.

“How did… I do?” He nervously questioned, leaning his forehead against yours.

You sighed, it was pretty damn hot, but you were going, to be honest with him.

“Play with my clit more next time, and then maybe I’ll cum.”

The color drained from Idia’s face.

“S-shit, yes! Okay!” He nodded feverishly.

“….wait. NEXT TIME?”

And there we have it babes, both sides of Idia are now posted.

What do you want to see next? More new dorms? More NSFW continuations of previous chapters?

Let me know, and thank you all for being so sweet and supportive.

Love you, reader!

Requested tags: @stygianoir @naniky

[drabbles-mc]

Too Far

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.14 Die A Hero Or Live Long Enough To Become A Villain- Desperate Measures

Warnings: angst, canon-typical violence, Asshole Carrillo

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: There was no way that I wasn’t going to write Carrillo for this prompt today. He is the definition of Desperate Measures. For someone who loves him so much, I really did have quite the fun time writing this one lmao.

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @garbinge​ @anditsmywholeheart​​ @winchestershiresauce​​ @sizzlingcloudmentality​​ @alm0501​​ @panagiasikelia​​ @616wilsons​​ @hauntedforsst​​ @mirabee​​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​​ @boomclapxox​​ @nessamc​​ @southotheborder​​ @supersanelyromantic​​ @padbrookcottage​​ @mysun-n-stars​​ @raincoffeeandfandoms​​ @bport76​​ @marrianena​​ @ashlingnarcos​​ @passionatewrites​​ @purplesong1028​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You’d heard a lot of things about Carrillo. He carried such a reputation with him, and that was something you knew long before the two of you had gotten together, long before you even really knew him. He was a man who was the definition of someone’s reputation preceding them. There was quite the odd balance struck in the way that people spoke about him.

He was effective. There were very few Colonels, or officers of any rank for that matter, who got things done as quickly and efficiently as he did. Carrillo had decided a long time ago that the ends justify the means, and he was far from the only person to adopt that mentality. Most turned a blind eye to the methods, choosing instead to focus on the results.

His men respected him. They feared him, too, but they respected him. Being an officer under Carrillo’s command was a real make or break test for a lot of the men in the CNP. Everyone is tough and has their shit together, everyone is ready to do what needs to be done, until they have Carrillo breathing down their neck telling them what doing what needs to be done really means. The list of people who are truly cut out for the job is much shorter than people are inclined to think.

It wasn’t that he never came across obstacles. No one in his position could ever truly have an easy time of things. Hell, he did get shipped off to Spain. But whatever got in his way, he always managed to muscle his way through. Which was how he had landed himself back in Colombia like he had never even left. There was a lot to be said for his use of brute force, but along with that, he also knew how to play the game. He could work the system—he spent plenty of time finding its weak-points.

All of those were things that were pretty much common knowledge at this point. Anyone who worked in or alongside the CNP knew about Carrillo and his mode of operations. Anyone within a few degrees of separation from him knew exactly what they were dealing with. You were no exception to that rule.

But when you saw the look on Javier’s face the night that the two of them came back from their excursion into the streets of Medellín, you knew that something was wrong. Something was off. Javier could stomach a lot—the man had developed an incredibly thick skin in his time in Colombia. If something had put him in a state, it couldn’t have been good.

You tried to talk to Javi, but he turned you away as politely as he could. He wasn’t one to normally tell you no, and that only made the knot in your stomach grow. Steve went after him, much more determined than you. You hung back though, knowing that the two of them had a little more room to push with each other.

You waited for Carrillo to come and talk to you, but he was already heading back towards the base. He was most likely going to his office to wrap up whatever paperwork and other debrief things he had to handle. You were caught between changing your mind and following Javi, or catching up to Carrillo and hoping that he would give you some insight into what had happened. Both felt equally futile. Deep down you knew that trying to deal with Javi and Steve would be easier, maybe a little more pleasant in some respects, but you didn’t want to be the reason that sad look in his eyes got worse. So, you turned on your heel and took off at a clip after the colonel.

“Colonel,” you called after him, not overly loud but you also knew that there was no way that he didn’t hear you. Still, he didn’t respond. You huffed. “Carrillo!”

That got him to stop. He turned around to face you, the look on his face not giving anything away as per usual. Just once you wished that he would crack, that he would let himself be a little more human. Whatever was eating away at Javier didn’t seem to have the same effect at all on Carrillo. He stood there as though you’d just interrupted his morning walk. He didn’t say anything, simply lifting his eyebrows as he waited for you to say whatever it was that you wanted to say to him.

“What happened?” you asked.

He shook his head slightly, as if to say that nothing much at all had happened. “Followed up on some leads. Tracked down a few of Escobar’s men.” He paused, seeing on your face that that wasn’t the answer that you had been looking for. “Why?”

You sighed, not quite sure how to explain it all. It was a gut feeling, along with Javi’s sad eyes that had your mind spinning. “I…I just saw Peña. He looked, I don’t know, he looked off.”

Carrillo shrugged, “There’s a lot going on.”

That’s when you knew that something was wrong. The look on his face as he said that gave him away. It also let you know that you weren’t going to get anything out of him. You sighed. “Right.” You paused, and you were expecting him to take off again, but he lingered. Clearing your throat, you asked, “You coming back tonight?”

He nodded. “Once I finish up here.”

“Okay.” You were still desperately searching his eyes for an answer that you weren’t going to get. “Be safe.”

He gave one more nod. “You too.”

You watched as he turned and continued his way back to the base. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to head towards the parking lot to head home. As you walked, you saw Steve heading for the base as well—the look on his face was hard to read, though. You wondered what had gotten into everyone. You didn’t even bother turning on the radio when you started the car, subjecting yourself to a silent car ride. There was nothing to keep you company besides your quickly spiraling thoughts.

It was horribly late when you woke to the sound of your apartment door opening. You sat upright, instinctively reaching for the gun on your bedside table. Relief flooded through you when Carrillo appeared in the bedroom doorway. He looked tired, but that was nothing new. You’d been trying to figure out what the night had had in store for them since you got home, the worst-case scenarios running through your brain as your body finally succumbed to the exhaustion.

The feeling of him sinking into the mattress behind you should’ve been comforting. The way his arms slipped around your middle, and the way that he buried his face in the crook of your neck should have been enough to soothe away your worries. But it wasn’t. You were wide awake again, and you didn’t see yourself going back to sleep until the following night.

“Horacio?” you whispered the name you only called him in the safety of the dark rooms of your apartment.

His response was somewhere between a hum and a grumble, “Hm?”

“If something happened,” you forced yourself not to get distracted by the way his hands were gliding over your thighs, “you’d tell me, right? If something went wrong out there?”

He took in a deep breath. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear it, you would’ve felt the way that his chest rose and fell against your back. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”

That didn’t answer your question, and yet it did. A lump formed in the back of your throat, one that wasn’t able to be smoothed over even by the feeling of his lips pressed against your neck. Neither of you said anything more, and it wasn’t long before Carrillo was fast asleep. He held you tight against him even as he rested, much tighter than anyone would assume a man like him would hold anyone.

He was gone when you woke up the next morning. It was a bit of a relief if you were being honest with yourself, and you hated that. You hoped that you’d be able to catch Javier again, maybe get something out of him. You hoped it would be something to quell your worries, but deep down you knew that that wasn’t likely.

You were crossing the office to get to your desk when you saw Steve sitting in the little center cluster that was the designated space for the DEA Agents. It was a bit of a slap in the face at first, the fact that the CNP just scrounged up whatever they could to give the two of them, but it ended up working out somewhat nicely. They were right on the pulse of things—they could watch everything unfold around them.

You had the time, so you took the detour to stop by. You were close with him and Javier by the nature of your jobs. Friends was a bit too familiar of a term, but coworkers felt too distant. Everyone who was steeped in this mess together had a unique bond because of it. Even still, what you were about to do made you feel like perhaps you were being a little intrusive.

“Murphy?” You lingered next to his chair.

He turned, eyes widening slightly in surprise as you yanked him from the work he’d been immersed in. “Hey. Something I can do for you?”

“You seen Peña today?” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible and failing miserably.

“Um, no,” his expression faltered for a moment which wasn’t reassuring for you in the slightest, “not today. Why? You hear something?”

You shook your head, “N-no. I just, he seemed a little rattled last night. Wanted to make sure that he was alright.”

He shrugged. “Yea, no, I haven’t seen him. Want me to send him your way when he gets in?”

“No, that’s alright.” You paused. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

You shifted nervously on your feet. “You hear anything?”

His eyes searched yours for a brief moment, trying to weigh his options and what he should tell you. “I know the same things you do.”

The word liar was on the tip of your tongue but you held it. Nodding, you said, “Right. Well, be safe, yea?”

He nodded as he shifted his attention back to his work. “Yea.”

You kept a closer eye on them than usual as the day continued to unfold. You saw the distance that existed between Javi and Steve, between Javi and Carrillo. That put you on edge in a way you couldn’t quite articulate. The only thing that all these men had to keep themselves safe was each other. If that was starting to crumble, you didn’t know what was going to be coming down the pipe next.

Your fingers were flying across your typewriter when you heard the sound of multiple sets of boots striding across the floor. You looked up, your motions not faltering as you watched a number of officers all heading towards the door. You saw the way that Carrillo was walking with more purpose than usual. Steve and Javier were walking behind him, neither of them looking hesitant, which was reassuring for you. Once the door was shut behind them all, you forced yourself to focus on your work once more.

It was a couple hours before you saw anyone again. A few officers started to trickle in, looking more happy than they were angry which made some of the tension in your shoulders dissolve. You waited with bated breath for Carrillo and the DEA agents to walk in. After a few more minutes went by, Javier came striding in. He looked a little better than when you’d seen him the night before, but still not great.

He was scanning the floor and so you took a chance, waving him over to your desk. A tiny but sincere smile crossed his face for a moment as he walked over to you. You propped your elbows on your desk and leaned forward slightly.

“How’d it go?” you asked, trying to stay as neutral as possible.

He shrugged, nodding. “It was a good tip. Brought in a lot of Escobar’s guys.”

You smiled. “That’s good.” You paused. “Where are Murphy and Carrillo?”

Javier nodded in the direction that he’d just walked in from. “Taking a couple of the guys to Bogotá.”

“Okay. Thank you, you know, for keeping me in the loop.”

The smile he gave you was weak, laced with guilt. “Don’t thank me—might be better off staying out of that loop.”

You were ready for him to brush you off again, but you had to ask, “Javi, what…what happened last night?”

He frowned. The look made you nervous and you were about to try and take the question back when he said, “Carrillo did exactly what they brought him back here to do—make a point and get answers by any means necessary.”

You could head the timidness in your own voice as you prodded a little more. “What means are those?”

He took a deep breath as he tried to figure out if he wanted to be honest with you or find some sort of cop-out. He looked you in the eyes and decided that there was no way he could be the one to tell you what happened. He wasn’t going to be the bearer of that kind of news.

“You should ask the Colonel when he gets back.”

Your chest tightened, knowing that that wasn’t a good sign. You cleared your throat, trying to stuff down your emotions as you nodded. “Alright. I will.” You paused, looking at him and fighting the overwhelming urge to hug him. “You should go home, Javi. Take…take care of yourself.”

He gave you another half-hearted smile as he took out a cigarette, “Maybe when this is all over, I will.”

You didn’t push him for further conversation, allowing him to walk away and try to smoke his cigarette in relative peace. You went back to work, somehow managing to go through the motions despite the fact that your mind was miles away trying to piece everything together even though you had nothing to go off of.

It was late when Steve and Carrillo walked back into the building. And, just like always, Carrillo seemed absolutely unfazed by whatever the day had thrown at them. Steve, on the other hand, had that same vacant look that Javi had had the night before. Your self-control was being tested in a major way as you stayed put in your seat. You noticed the way that Steve and Javier didn’t say anything to each other. That worried you more than anything because if there was something the two of them always had, it was some sort of commentary for each other. Not this time, though.

Javier was the first one out of all of you to leave. He and Steve shared one last loaded look before he started to walk off. He offered to walk you to your car. It was a nice enough offer, but you knew that he was offering it because he could see that you were practically crawling out of your skin.

“I’m alright, thank you though, Javi,” you said with a soft smile. “I’ve got a few more things to finish up here.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “Liar.” You both laughed softly, but he knew better than to push. “Get some safe, then.”

“You too.” You nodded before he turned to leave for the night.

Looking around, the base was a ghost town. You knew that Carrillo was still in his office. His door was closed and the blinds were down, but you could still see the light escaping through the small slivers. You wondered if it was worth it to wait him out. You wondered how long of a wait that would actually end up being.

In the meantime, you decided to make your way over to Steve’s desk. He looked up at you as you situated yourself beside him, leaning back against his desk. “It’s late—you should go.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“You alright?”

The shaky breath that he let out sounded like it was almost supposed to be a laugh but it didn’t quite make the cut. “Is anyone around here?”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “I talked to Peña.”

Steve’s eyes snapped to you. “Yea? What’d he say?”

You shrugged. “About as much as you are right now.” You tapped your shoe against his chair. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you guys?”

“Things are different now.” He shook his head as he looked over at Carrillo’s office. “He’s different now.”

“He’s always been—”

“I know,” Steve cut you off. “I know. He’s always been on a warpath but ever since he got back? I don’t,” he dropped his head into his hands for a moment, “I don’t know how much longer he’s gonna have people backing him.”

You had never seen Steve looking so vulnerable. It was heartbreaking, if you were being honest. “Steve,” you waited for him to look at you, “what the fuck is he doing out there?”

Steve’s voice was weaker than you’d ever heard it as he forced the words out. “He, uh, he shot  a kid last night. Jav told me.” He shook his head in disbelief, whatever layers of toughness he thought he had were long gone.

You fought to keep a stoic expression. “And today?”

He frowned, lips pressed together like it was the only thing containing the emotions he wanted to let out. “He…he threw two of the men that we got out of the fucking helicopter.”

“Fuck me,” you whispered in disbelief. There were tears in your eyes as the weight of what Steve was telling you slowly started settling over you.

He sniffled, fighting to regain his composure. “Sorry. You, you don’t need to be listening to all this shit. It’s not your job.”

You picked your words carefully. “What you just told me? Doesn’t sound like your job either.” You paused. “Go home.”

“To what?”

It felt like someone had punched you in the stomach, taking all the wind out of you. Despite the fact that the two of you weren’t really the type to be affectionate with each other, you still reached and set your hand on his shoulder. “Go home, Murphy. If nothing else, just to be out of here.” You saw the way he looked over at Carrillo’s office. “And to be away from him.”

“You should get away from him too.”

He almost said it like a joke, but the look in his eyes told you everything that you needed to know. Neither him nor Javier ever mentioned anything to you about what they did or didn’t suspect between you and Carrillo. Once he got sent to Spain it was a moot point anyway. Even when the news broke that he was coming back, neither of them batted an eye at you. The fact that Steve was choosing this moment out of all of them to break the code of silence wasn’t lost on you.

You gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Get out of here. Call your wife. Drink at home instead of at your desk.”

He nodded. “Right. Right.”

Relief coursed through you when he actually stood up and started to gather up his things. You stayed put, still leaning back against his desk. You pretended not to notice the emotional turmoil written so clearly across his face.

He was reaching into his pocket for his keys when he asked, “What are you staying for?”

You nodded towards Carrillo’s office. “Got some stuff I gotta sort out.”

He didn’t have the energy to press further. “Night.”

“Goodnight.”

Once he was out of sight, you pushed yourself off his desk and started making your way towards Carrillo’s office. You didn’t bother knocking as you pushed the door open. He looked up from his desk, the offended look on his face only fading slightly when he saw that it was you. He set his pen down, looking at you expectantly as he waited for you to say something first.

You just came right out with it. “What did you do?”

“Close the—”

“No one else is here,” you snapped, but your voice was still quiet considering. “Answer the question,” you hated the way that your voice shook, “What the hell did you do?”

“I got all of us closer to being out of this mess.”

“How, exactly?” tears stung your eyes. “By killing a child?”

“They stopped being children the second they started working for Escobar!” it was the loudest he’d ever gotten with you.

You flinched, but you didn’t back down. “Did you really think that that was what was going to get you Escobar? Shooting some poor boy out in the streets? That was your big play?” You shook your head. “You’re smarter than that. Fuck, you’re better than that!”

He leaned back in his chair, holding his hands out slightly, “Apparently I’m not.” The smile that curled his lips wasn’t a genuine one. There was venom there that hadn’t ever been directed at you before. “But you, and Agent Murphy, and Agent Peña all already came to that conclusion, didn’t you?”

“Don’t—”

“They aren’t your men, you know,” he sounded like a parent scolding their child, “What they do, what we do, it’s none of your concern.”

You stepped in closer towards his desk, towards him, “I’m part of this fight too.”

“From the safety of your fucking desk,” he spat.

That hurt more than you bargained for. Still, you didn’t give in. You weren’t wrong this time, and you knew it. “Would I be more useful out there, hm? Putting pistols to children’s heads? Shoving men out of helicopters over the fucking jungle?” You fought the urge to pace back and forth in front of his desk. “You think that would really bring Escobar down any quicker?” He opened his mouth to argue but you didn’t let him. “What the fuck do you think you’re really accomplishing out there, Colonel? Besides letting everyone know you’re angry?”

“If you don’t like what I’m doing, you don’t have to be part of it.”

“Does everyone who ever disagrees with you get dismissed like that?” You scoffed. “This is why you’re alone, you know.”

“You don’t get to say that.” He shook his head at you as he stood up. “Not when you were so eager to let me back in.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “That’s before I knew—”

“I’m the same man I was. You know that,” he was toe-to-toe with you now, “so don’t try to make excuses for yourself now. If you can’t handle it, say it.”

You shook your head. “You can’t treat your relationships like your fucking raids. This,” you motioned back and forth between you, “is not something you can say someone didn’t have the right training for. It doesn’t work that way. And, you’re right—you’ve always been cold. But you went too far.” Your voice got a little weaker as you spoke the words again, “You killed a child, Carrillo. If you,” you took a steadying breath, “if you can’t see that that was too far, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“If you’re looking for regret, for an apology, you’re not going to find that here.”

You wiped at the tears in your eyes before they could spill over, before he could twist the knife and make a mockery of those too. “Believe me,” you scoffed, “I know you don’t apologize.”

“So what is this then?” he raised an eyebrow as he asked the question.

“This,” you let out a hopeless laugh as you threw your hands up, “is me hoping that maybe you’ll do better next time.”

“Do better? They brought me back because I am better.”

You hoped that the tremble of your bottom lip wasn’t visible even though you could feel it. “Yea, well, everyone gets it wrong at least once.”

His eyes narrowed at that. “Are you finished?”

You shook your head, your anger at odds with the heavy sadness that was taking over your body. “Yea. I’m done.” You turned and started to head back towards the door, pausing when you were almost out of his office. “Someone is going to find out, you know.”

“Because you’re going to tell them?”

You didn’t let his accusatory tone faze you. “No. Because people always find out when we fuck up.”

[littlemessyjessi]

The ABC Headcanons of Yandere Kim Seokjin

Yandere Kim Seokjin

PS Reader, Plus Size Reader, Kpop, BTS

🖤🖤🖤

A is for appetizing

Seokjin prepares every meal for you.  Each piece of food that touches your lips has been touched by his hands.  He goes to great lengths for your meals.  If you refuse to eat what he has given you, he takes it as a direct sign of disrespect.

B is for beauty

He takes both regimes very seriously. Yours and his. It's not so much of what you use, although he does like it best when you use good product. Which is often why he gets them for you. Only the best for his love. It started out as a cute thing. He always came in there in the morning and at night to do his skincare routine the same time you did. However, over time, even on days when you didn't feel like it, he would guilt you into it until you got up and went with him to do it. He has sat you down on the toilet seat before and did it for you while you were half asleep and gave you a lecture about how you needed to be more responsible with your skin.

C is for Caregiver

He is your caregiver. No one else. If that is ever challenged… he does not take it well. Mr. "hyung will do it" is on base boosted mode with you. He does not like it when anyone else helps you. If you can't open your bottle and Jungkook does it and Jin hears about it later… he's offended. "You should've found me." "You were in the studio, Jinnie." "You should've told me anyway." "But I'm not supposed to disturb yo-" "I don't care. You need something, you come to me. No one else. You got it?" "Ok, Jinnie. Sorry."

D is for Dangerous

Normally, Seokjin is very sweet with you if not a little strict. However, he has rules and if those rules are broken he can be very dangerous. Not necessarily to but certainly to those around you. He is not above 'arranging' an accident for that best friend of yours. He isn't one to cut you off from people because if you have them… he can use them for ammunition.

E is for Eyes

His are always on you. He is always watching you, everything you do. Very carefully. Seokjin is very observant of everything you do.

F is for Friends

As mentioned, he let's you friends and family. He has no problem with that. After all, he can use them as ammunition against you. However, there are some conditions. If you're time with them starts to take away from time with him, your visits stop for a while. If at any time, he suspects that you are attracted to any of your friends…. it does not end well.

G is for Good Graces

Getting into his good graces is rather easy. Everyone likes attention but truthfully Seokjin gets a little flustered with too much. Just pay him some attention and do as he says for the most part and he will be happy with you.

H is for Hellacious

However, if you don't listen and your attention begins to stray, Jin turns from a sweet and loving boyfriend to an outright demon. He will cut you off from everything and be terrifying.

I is for Important

He expects you to know the rules and know what is important. "Do whatever you want, baby, as long as you know what is important. I expect those things to come first no matter what. If you can't do that then everything else stops and you won't like the result."

J is for Jinnie

There are moments when Seokjin is impossibly sweet and kind to you. You often call him Jinnie when he is like that. He is the perfect adorably goofy boyfriend. In those moments.

K is Killer

He doesn't particularly care for getting his hands dirty to get you to do what he wants. But he's not above having someone taken care of. However, he would rather just call in a favor or two.

L is Love

In truth, he is impossibly, hopelessly in love with you. There are times when it doesn't seem like it. At all. But he really is. He would do anything to be with you forever.

M is for Marriage

Though traditional at times, he isn't as crazed about marriage as you would think. He feels that it will be a natural step for you two eventually but he doesn't feel as if he needs to the documents to bind you. He knows he has other ways into manipulating you into staying by his side forever.

N is for Never

By this point, you have accepted that you will never get away from him. Partially, because he can track you down very easily and use loved ones to keep you there. And partially because you do actually love him.

O is for Ominous

That very thought is ominous to you in and of itself. You often get the feeling that you days are numbered with Seokjin.

P is for Please

This one word is his weakness. You don't often ask for much as he is quite lenient with you but you know that if you really, really want something and he seems stubborn… if you pull out the puppy eyes and say "Please, Jinnie"... you will very likely get it.

Q is for Quiet

If he is quiet during an argument… you are dangerous. He is not afraid to argue with you but if he has become silent… you should be afraid. Because something bad is going to happen.

R is for Run

If you should ever be foolish enough to think you can run away from him… you will not like what follows. He won't track you down actually. But he will start picking off everyone you have ever met and harming them in the most horrible ways… and making it a point that he is doing it to send you a message.

S is for Simple

Because really it is quite simple. Obey his rules and stay by his side and you'll never have to worry about a thing

T is for Terror

Disobey him and break these rules and he will be nothing but trouble to you. A living terror.

U is for Understanding

What bothers you the most is that regardless of everything… he does seem to understand you the best. Perhaps, it's because he watches you and has you around him a lot of the time. He knows you. He understands you better than you understand yourself sometimes.

V is for Valuable

What bothers you most sometimes is that he seems to look at you as something of value. A thing. And that unsettles you because you wonder what will happen if one day he finds your value less than appealing to him anymore.

W is for Withstand

He is able to withstand anything. If you hate him, he can wait you out. If you are violent, he will simple wait for it to pass. He can withstand temper tantrums and anything you decide to throw at him.

X is for eXtra

He is not above being theatrical to make you fear him. He has a slight flair for it anyway and if he feels that overreacting will make you behave… then you should prepare for the performance of your life.

Y is for You

You have to accept that you seemed to be the focus on his attention. He may have other things, other projects, other ventures but you are always swirling around up there.

Z is for Zero

He has a zero tolerance for infidelity so even if you didn't but he thought you were cheating on him… he wouldn't hurt YOU. But the person that he THOUGHT you were seeing… would be taken care of right in front of you.

—--

Hey loves! Thanks for checking out my work! For all kpop content check Masterlist 2.0 in my navi! Link in bio! Love, K 💋

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[otonymous]

Lemme See You Sweat: The Boys’ Favourite Ways to Train (MLQC Headcanon)

In honour of my recent obsession with the Peloton app (and no, this is not a sponsored post LOL), I thought this would be an apt time to explore a question of tremendous importance: how do the boys of Mr Love: Queen’s Choice keep their hot bods continually smokin’? 🔥

Keep reading to find out!

Warnings: explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.

💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼

Victor:

Y’all already know this man is dedicated to his health: he preps his own food and hits the sack early so he can wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to pound the pavement on his morning jogs

Loves to remind you that not getting enough sleep leads to inflammation and premature aging in addition to giant eye bags in various shades of plum

Remember his Breathless karma? Yes. That one.

Victor has clearly established his prowess in the pool. Don’t mess with him and the drops of chlorinated water running down his insanely defined pecs or he’ll Michael Phelps you the f*ck outta there

The LFG CEO mixes his bouts of cardio with a weight-training regimen (try not to salivate too much when those dri-fit shorts slide up to reveal the muscular definition of his thighs and ass during those squats)

The best part of working out with Victor (besides the fact that you have full access to his private facilities)? Heating things up even further together in the sauna afterwards for an extended workout session 😉

Lucien:

Listen, this man is busy being a genius and has very little time for anything else

So you best believe the professor makes every second count by engaging in that High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT). TABATA, HERE HE COMES!

Just watching him go all out on those Burpees, Mountain Climbers, Jump Squats, Lateral Slides, Lunges and Push-ups is making you work up a sweat (though you’re just watching him from the sidelines sipping on your bubble tea)

…and yet, he makes it all seem so easy

Don’t let Lord Luci fool you: beneath that shapeless lab coat, sleek, powerful muscles lie in wait. The man is agile and strong AF — you’ll feel like you’ve caught sight of a panther in the wild, all the muscles of his body tensing with each powerful burst of movement

When he’s not slaying those HIIT work-outs, Lucien enjoys hitting up the archery range, incinerating the panties (and a few pairs of boxer briefs) of anyone who happens to lay eyes on him. Case in point:

(Hammer Lucien don't hurt 'em! LOL)

Gavin:

You don’t need me to tell you that Gavin goes full out beast mode and trains 24/7.

As a Special Task Force agent, the man’s life (and those around him) is literally dependent on the fitness of his body, so when it comes to working out, Birdcop ain’t messing around

Think of every movie training montage you’ve ever seen: Ninja Assassin, Rocky, that scene of Ben Affleck in Batman v Superman, etc. Yup, that’s just a normal day for Gavin

Let’s not forget that hand-to-hand combat. Gavin is especially proficient at boxing, Muay Thai and Taekwondo (Momma said knock you out!!)

Boy’s got that suspension trainer set up at home so he can fit in those last minute sessions before his missions

Little known fact: Gavin was a b-boy back in the day and still breaks with his old crew every now and then. His signature move: The Windmill (how fitting LOL)

Kiro:

As a celebrity, Kiro has to adhere to a very strict diet and exercise regimen (Savin has his hands full with this)

On top of his usual cardio and weight-training sessions, Kiro has hours upon hours of dance rehearsals (that hardcore Kpop-esque choreography ain’t no joke)

In reality though, parkour and freerunning is this man’s jam — he’s got the strength, agility, flexibility and grace to make it all look so fluid and easy

Kiro also loves a good barre workout. Nothing gets his thighs shaking quite like working individual muscles to the point of exhaustion

In all honesty, this man works hard for his lean, muscular bod. He deserves a damn bag of chips every now and then. 80/20 rule man.

Shaw:

Blessed with youth, Shaw’s naturally fast metabolism helps him keep that lean physique (ahem, do you see all the Pepsi-Coke mixtures he consumes?!)

He doesn’t really work out, per se; keeps active by booking it everywhere on his skateboard, lifting those cans of spray paint and rocking out onstage with his bass guitar

The boy is definitely proficient in Parkour though (comes in handy when he’s running away from the authorities)

Little known fact: Shaw is also an excellent breakdancer. May have clashed with Gavin from time to time on the dance floor when their crews battled each other, resulting in freak lightning and wind storms. His signature move: Halos.

💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼

Thanks so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 👀📓

[angst-king]

Need a lift pt 1

“Well Mr. and Mrs. Midoriya, we have good news and bad news for little Izuku over here.” The parents of the sickly little boy who lay still on the bed looked at the doctor quickly. “Wh-what’s the good news Doctor?” The mother-Inko- asked, “Well we have a diagnosis for him, and it can be managed since we caught it in time.” Inko smiles widely almost forgetting there was bad news. There was hope for her little boy! He’d be okay! She’d get to take him home! Then Hisashii-his father- continued the conversation. “What’s the bad news doctor?” The doctor drew in a breath and sighed. This brought Inko out of her fantasies, hoping the bad news wouldn’t be as bad as she was thinking. 

The doctor’s eyes shift towards the little boy on the bed. His skin was a sickening white, almost camouflaged to the bed. “The bad news is that his stomach is partially paralyzed to the point where solid food has become challenging for his stomach to digest.” This news made Inko feel light-headed, she knew what this meant. “I-if he can’t eat then that m-means he’s starving….” Her voice trails off as her eyes float to the floor. Starvation mode, something Inko always feared for little Izuku. They’d only gotten close to it on a few rare occasions, though nothing like this. They always caught it in time!

“D-Doctor, d-does this m-mean he’s b-been in starvation mode f-for a while?” Her voice quivered, biting her lip as she tried to hold back the tears. “Sadly it does. From the lab results, I’d say we just barely got him close to the line of starvation mode and living.” Hearing this the only words that rung through her head was ‘close line’. She didn’t know if her heart could take any more, she felt ready to faint or throw up. 

 ‘This is all my fault, I'm so sorry Izuku’ she thought to herself.

“M-Mrs MIdoriya, I understand you may feel anxiety or responsibility for your child’s illness but I assure you. You are not to blame, I would blame the reckless care the other hospitals gave him or even lack thereof. You did all you could do for Izuku.” She buries her face into her hands before her husband pulls her to his chest to console her. “Inko, sweetie, you truly did all that you could, hell you even brought Mitski in to get those doctors to take you seriously. Now he’s in better hands, and it's not too late for him. They can help him here.” Hisashi spoke softly to her, gently stroking her hair to keep it from her face. “I-I should’ve done m-more s-’sashi” “No, no honey, you did just enough. Now our son is getting the help he needs. He’ll be okay.”

It took a few minutes before Inko had stopped crying, the doctor left them for their privacy, and soon came back when ready. 

“Alright, now that we know the problem, we know how to treat it. I’ve already got a treatment plan as well as a few backup ones for Izuku set up in place for him.” “r-really wh-what is it?” “Well, the main part Izuku is gonna have to get used to because it's not very comfortable or easy. He’s going to have a nonsurgical feeding tube placed until he is strong enough to get a surgical one. It's a tube that will go down his nose, his esophagus, and to his stomach that will carry a sort of protein shake like a solution that will give him the nutrients he needs to stay just out of starvation mode. Now he can’t just live on the tube food, especially because he needs more than an average person. We’re gonna try and find some foods he can eat by mouth that will aid in keeping him out of starvation mode. But only if his body tolerates the tube food.” Inko and Hisashi nod along as the doctor continue. “Another reason for this tube is because, if his stomach isn’t taking the food down to the rest of his organs it can big up. So this tube will allow him to empty his stomach as well, it usually keeps the patient from being too nauseous. Sorry, I know this is a gross thing to hear about but that is gonna be a part of Izuku’s life now.”

It was a lot to take in but, the parents just wanted their little boy to be okay. So they signed off on it.

They did the procedure of placing the tube while Izuku was still asleep to not stress the boy into more exhaustion.

It was a few more days before Izuku was awake, within those days. Izuku’s teammates from his gym had come over to see him. Some were able to stomach the image of one of their youngest teammates in such a state of ill. While others like Ochako Uraraka were utterly horrified and couldn’t return to see him. Inko understood, Ochako and Izuku were both young children and seeing someone so sick with tubes and wires around them like this can be scary.

When Izuku woke up he was still very much so out of it. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open for a bit, and his voice was almost a whisper from its soreness. Throwing up did tend to do that to ya. His mother and father were so excited to see their little boy awake and able to speak.

“Oh Izuku, we’re so glad you’re awake, oh thank god!” Inko exclaimed quickly hugging her boy who confusedly asked what happened. “Oh sweetie, you’ve been sick for so long, and now we’ve finally found someone who can help you.” Izuku started to remember as he noticed he was in a hospital so he asked. “Are they gonna make me better finally?” Inko sighed, didn’t wanna upset Izuku with the truth but she couldn’t lie to him either. “W-well sweetie, the type of sickness you have is….permanent. Izuku gave a small disappointed “oh” 

The doctor decided to step in this time. As the doctor approached the side opposite the parents. Izuku’s eyes shifted towards the man who spoke up. “Well Izuku, we can’t make you better to where your sickness goes away but. We can make it so you’re not too sick all the time and maybe even be able to go home soon.” The mention of going home excited Izuku, he gave a small nod to the doctor who smiles at him. “Good, we’ve already started our plans while you were asleep because we couldn’t wait for you to wake up for this.” Izuku was now all ears with the doctor. 

The doctor explained the diagnosis to the boy, as well as the treatment plan which involved the already placed feeding tube. Medications that would be taken orally as well as through the tube. It wasn’t the most excitable news but, with the hope of going home in the back of his mind. Izuku was set on getting out.

[fatbottombucky]

A Past Life *Geralt of Rivia x Reader*

Summary: could you write a female reader x Geralt who has PTSD due to past abuse and he accidentally triggers a flashback. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable writing this, thank you for your time

Characters: Geralt & Jaskier

Pairings: Geralt x [F]Reader

Warnings: Nothing, except for Geralt yells at Reader and it triggers past memories of a man who was not so kind to her- she also flinches when he steps forward to help, makes the whole thing very angsty. They aren’t together in this, although I can do another part where they are because I have an idea for a sequel to this

“Look at us,” the sprightly voice interrupts the quiet, “three best friends, out and seeking adventure in this land.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, looking over your shoulder at the bard- who had hired you as an armed bodyguard whilst he sought adventures to sing about. What you didn’t expect was his ‘best friend’ to be a Witcher, especially The Butcher of Blaviken. 

“Hmm,” came the grunt of Geralt, on top of his horse, Roach, “you’re not my friend.” 

The comment completely aimed at Jaskier. Although, what you’ve seen from these two it’s just their norm if anything. Jaskier annoys Geralt, Geralt, for some reason, puts up with Jaskier and sometimes even humours him. 

“Excuse me?” Jaskier exclaims, “you’ve known Y/N, what, a day and she’s your friend over me? The bard who, not only, writes lovely ballads about you BUT,” he strides ahead and starts to walk backwards to look up at Geralt’s face, “but, I may add, spends his free time helping you on the road and aiding you in trying times.” 

Geralt looks down at Jaskier for a brief moment, expressionless and releases a deep exhale through his nostrils. 

“Yes.” Is the one-word answer he gives Jaskier, casting a downward gaze to Jaskier, “she doesn’t talk… or sing.” 

Jaskier looks at you, a scoff leaving past his lips. You raise an eyebrow with a proud smirk, befriending Geralt seemed like an easy task- you wondered if he actually did have a lot of friends, due to the limited demands. Jaskier fell silent and walked beside you, clearly wounded from the encounter and a little pouty. 

You cast a glance to Geralt, clearly unphased or doesn’t care. “He’s playing you, Jask,” you elbow the bard, “clearly you both are friends because he could've run off to get away from you but he hasn’t, has he?” 

“Ha!” Jaskier grins, “that is true, Y/N, Geralt clearly loves me. He just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, I mean, you’re new and he’s clearly uncomfortable around you.” You hide your smile, till you look at Geralt who is looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow, disbelief written on his face. “Don’t worry Geralt, you’ll get used to Y/N, just takes time getting used to her ‘tis all.” 

You smile at Geralt who only slowly blinks and looks away, ahead and into the forest you’ve been walking through for Geralt’s next contract. You like to think you’d be useful, but you’re not well versed in slaying monsters, especially the ones that Geralt goes after. Sure, you’ve killed a few Ghouls in your time but anything three times your size. 

You had never gone up against anything like a Bruxa though. In fact, most of your life has been dealing with the worst kind of monsters: men. They hide their true intentions with cheesy lines and charming smiles, they lurk in the open and gain trust, they make you believe you’re wonderful and special. The worst type of monsters is the ones that hide so plainly in sight. 

“Maybe I should write songs about you,” you let a small exhale and shake your head, “the girl who doesn’t fear The Witcher.” 

Jaskier looks pleased with himself, almost going to strum on his lute, “There’s a lot of girls who aren’t exactly scared of him.” You smirk with a raised eyebrow, the indication of your words not going unnoticed by either, “plus there’s worse to be afraid of than some monster slayer.” 

“Hmm,” comes the grunt of Geralt, his language of ‘leave me the fuck alone’ or ‘continue’, in this case, it’s the latter. 

“Men,” it’s a simple word but it makes them both look at you, then one another, “people who hide their intentions and cast shadows on your life. I know a monster slayers beast, but people, well, they hide theirs and that’s… far worse; a surprise attack.” 

It goes silent between you three. 

The dull thud of Geralt hoping down from Roach, he ties her reigns to a tree and looks Jaskier for a moment and then you. You raise an eyebrow, apparently, you’re meant to understand that look, but you don’t and that makes Geralt of Rivia sigh. 

“Stay beside Roach,” is his response, “least I need is to look out for you two.” 

You huffed a little, you may not be a “monster killer” but you can look out for yourself. You don’t need some brute man keeping you safe, especially since past ones haven’t been so good at it. But you’re hired to look after Jaskier, to go where he goes and therefore you remained beside the bard. 

Geralt disappears through the thick brush, swords on his back and not making a sound; not even with his feet. He can’t have been gone for more than two minutes before Jaskier loudly sighed. 

“How am I meant to write songs about him and his fights if I can’t see them?” He crosses his arms, lute on his back and shaking his head, “not like he’s extremely talkative after a fight either, grunts and one-word answers, half the time I have to make up details.” 

You felt for Jaskier. He only wanted to write about real adventures, real stories, you’ve heard his old songs and listened to him write his new. He’s improved and Geralt doesn’t seem to realise how important he’s played in that. 

“What if…” you trailed off, “I go and watch? I’ll keep out of sight and I’ll tell you what happened?” 

Jaskier looks torn, “I’m not sure… Geralt, he can be very, I think it’s best we stay here.” 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, “I can look out for myself, Jaskier. Besides, he'll be too concerned with the Bruxa than I.”  

Keeping a firm hand on your steel sword you walk in the direction Geralt left in. It’s dark and silent, which has you wondering just how far Geralt is, but then you hear it. The slight shriek in the distance, the grunts that distinctive of Geralt. You quicken your steps and crouch down, finally in view of the fight. 

Your heartbeat quickens and for a brief moment you think Geralt knows you’re here, he looks around briefly as if sensing you but quickly goes back into defensive mode. The Bruxa is not what you expect, it looks human and naked, long dark hair and fingers that finish into sharp nails. It’s ugly but powerful. It disappears from sight, still attacking Geralt, who looks different than before. 

Dark eyes and veins, paler than usual. His whole stance is oozing with intimidation and the focus; it almost makes you wonder why you aren’t scared, it almost makes you understand why people do fear him. You watch in amazement at Geralt fighting, how agile he is despite his size. You revel in just watching him fight, although you feel bad because it feels almost intimate- like you’re catching him at his most vulnerable, despite it being the complete opposite of. 

But the moment of revelling is cut short, the Bruxa vanishes again and instead of attacking Geralt it goes silent. He stalks around the woodland floor, sword in hand, dark eyes casting in every direction and listening intently for his moment to pounce. 

You frown because nothing is happening. For a moment you think it might’ve runoff, how you wish it would have. A twig snaps behind you, you stand to full height and swiftly turn around, the sword being pulled effortlessly from its sheath. Before you can swing, it hits you and it’s claws scratch your arm causing you to also fly backwards. 

“I told you to stay away,” his voice is coarse and deep, cuts through the tension like a silver knife. 

You sit up as he stands before you, back towards you. A purple circle encompasses him and he fights the Bruxa with efficiency, the cloaking of the Bruxa gone and he’s able to see it’s every movement. He picks up your forgotten sword when rolling out of the way, it’s sights set on you once again but before you can even begin to stand two swords pierce its stomach; slicing in opposite directions and cutting it in half. 

A long-awaited breath of relief leaves you, you sit up and hold your sliced arm. 

“Igni,” Geralt holds a hand over the body and it sets alight before you. He whistles twice and a moment later you hear the galloping of Roach approaching, also a very confuddled Jaskier trying to keep up with her. “I told you to stay away,” Geralt directs at you, although not facing you. 

“It’s my fault, Geralt, I should’ve-” Jaskier tries to defend but is cut off. 

“You could’ve gotten killed,” you shakily stand up, brush yourself off and trying not to look like you’re in pain because it’ll only make the situation worse. 

You shrug one shoulder, “I’m fine. I’m also sorry, I didn’t think it knew I was there.” 

Geralt huffed, his face almost back to normal but it only makes him look angrier somehow, “Fuck you are. You’re bleeding and Bruxa scratches are painful, especially when not treated properly. No wonder you’re afraid of men, you haven’t seen any part of real life to know you should’ve been too afraid to even be around here.” 

The mocking words slice through you, you narrow your eyes at The Witcher. But instead of retaliating you compose yourself, knowing already that getting into any sort of conflict with a man, especially this man, could result in much worse circumstances.  

“It’s done now. You’ve killed it, I got in the way. I’ll patch myself up when we go back to the village to collect your reward.” You think it’s over, well you hope it is. You begin to walk in the direction Roach came from. 

“No!” Geralt’s stern voice stops you, you turn on your heel and look at him wide-eyed, he’s angry. “It isn’t done. You put yourself and me in danger, you can’t just-” he steps forward but you step back, breathing heavily and you fall to the floor,  trying to capture your breath. 

Past memories of your life before this one. A life filled with loud yelling, stern stares and even crueller hands. Of a man, not even Geralt’s build, more like Jaskier if anything. Sparking fear into you, instead of the love he once promised to forever give you. A life of threat and pain. 

A life you longed to forget. 

You shut your eyes tightly, praying to the gods that you don’t look like an idiot. You feel someone settle beside you, snapping your eyes open and met with amber ones, he lifts a hand but instinct takes over and you shrink away from him. Almost cowering before him, you thought you’d gotten over this. The evidence clearly states you haven’t. 

A gentle touch is placed upon your shoulder, no words spoken as he keeps a small distance but a hand still comforting you. You eventually return to normal, finally looking at Geralt with teary eyes and a watery smile to accompany it. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you can mutter and Geralt shakes his head, a little ‘hmm’ leaving him. 

Geralt is silent, kneeling beside where you’re huddled, conversation not exactly his strong suit. You watch as he thinks over his words, a more refined ‘hmm’ leaves his body like he’s thinking of how to word something. 

“Please tell me the one who caused this is dead,” you exhale through your nose in amusement, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, “otherwise I’ll have to make another stop.” 

You shrug a little, “It was a long time ago, I’ve been running from that life. I do not need a Witcher to kill for my revenge,” Geralt tilts his head at your words. “I’m a fucking idiot. A guy yells and I cower before him, how am I expected to protect anyone?” 

“Because you know, more than anyone, what it’s like to be put into a position you cannot break out of.” 

The words hang in the air for a second before he stands up, taking your hand and pulling you up gently. He looks over your wound, grunting at the look of it, the adrenaline is fading and it’s starting to prickle in pain. Jaskier, for once, is quiet but concerned about you. Geralt even helps you onto Roach, leading the horse through the woods. 

Sat in the Inn with a couple of ales and Geralt patching you up in the candlelight. You recount the ordeal to Jaskier, who is smiling now with a belly full of bread. After being told countless times by Geralt that you’ll be fine, it was nice to see he actually cared about you. 

“You know, I might just write a song about you,” Jaskier informs you, sitting back with a smug smile, Geralt raises an eyebrow. “We make a great team, don’t we. Where shall we go next?” 

You frown a little, “I think, I’ve gotta chase up an old life.” Geralt snaps his eyes to you, though doesn’t say anything. “I left a book open, it needs to be closed. We all have to face our monsters at some point,” you sigh and sip your ale. 

“It’s a good thing you’ve got a Witcher as a friend,” Jaskier states and nods at Geralt. 

You don’t miss the gentle ‘Hmm’ from Geralt.

Part Two

(Lmao this is over 2K words, wtf! Hopefully, this is okay. I didn’t make this romantic, but if you want a second part I will make it romantic, I already have an idea for it. Just let me know- Rosalie)

[caxsthetic]

Behind Those Eyes

Bokuto Koutarou x F!Reader

Hurtful Truth: Sometimes, people just realised things when it was all too late.

Pt. 3 < Bonus Chapter

The arena was so packed today. Not even one seat was empty. As always, Bokuto loves the loud and how all spectators could see him. But something, something is missing on today’s match. His golden eyes were practically looking at where you and his best friend usually sat. Though it was replaced by an unknown person right now.

He was pouting the whole time. No, it’s not his usual dejected mode like he always has ever since high school days. The truth is that he never falls into that mode since one particular time. Bokuto Koutarou is a grown man. It’s been twenty-eight years he breathes the oxygen in this world, he started to change, for the better.

His finger was fiddling around a rose gold wedding ring. The inside was written with one sentences that he always loves, always be there. Every time he missed you, he will remember that you never actually leave his side. Even if your figure were not there, your heart would accompany him with every step he took.

“Hey, Bokkun.” The setter of his team called him out of his trance, “Come on, the second set will begin.” Miya Atsumu was looking at the man with sympathy in his brown eyes. He was feeling guilty for something, something that may wouldn’t happen if he just shut up and pestered him all those months ago.

Bokuto nodded at the setter, kissing the ring and pray before putting it back on his pocket. He was ready now, fiddling with your wedding ring always calm him down. It feels like you are exactly there, supporting him with all of your heart.

He stared once again to the seats that were now occupied by other people. Both you and Akaashi couldn’t attend his match today for the first time in forever. Well, the reason is practically lovely for the two, but not for him. You were now Akaashi (Y/n), and the two of you was away in another country, spending time together after the wedding two weeks ago.

This morning, he got a video call from his best friend. Akaashi was on the balcony as he was saying good luck for today’s match, though he was sure that Bokuto could win the game. Then there you were, circling your arms around Akaashi’s neck as you hug him from behind. Apologising for the lack of physical support. Bokuto brushed it off. He knew that the two of you couldn’t predict the future as when he will have a match.

You were so beautiful there with a white sleeping dress. Even though your bed hair was visible, you still manage to look gorgeous. His mind is running wild for a second, remembering the times when he was the only one who could see your bed hair. But now, all of your little things were belong to his best friend.

He remembered Saturday, two weeks ago. His hair was slicked to the back, one look that you said always looks good on him after his unstyled hair. You were saying that he looks mature when he didn’t wear his usual hairstyle, but no matter how he looks, you always love him either way. At least that’s what you said all those years ago.

Nervous, that’s what struck you when your father stands by your side. He was trying to calm you down, but to no avail, you keep shuddering. This is exactly what happened four years ago, but back then you could manage to keep your composure and stride down with a giddy smile on your face.

Maybe you are afraid, and you didn’t want to hurt Bokuto feelings after all. He collapsed when he saw how Akaashi kissed your forehead on one of the matches. What happened if he broke down? But you and Bokuto have been in a good relationship after that, and it’s not that he still loves you anymore though. Right?

“Hey, hey,” You jolted when you heard the familiar voice, “Are you okay, (Y/n)?” His golden eyes were full of concern. Your father looked at him with a surprised look, “Do you need anything? Water perhaps?” After all, your father never knew that the man could actually calm you down in seconds.

“Kou,” He caressed your arms gently, “I am afraid that I trip!” Well, that’s one of the reason. Bokuto blinked at your confession, then he laughed. He laughed so hard that if the musician didn’t play a song, it would roar to the entire venue. You and your father could only look at the man who now had tears in his eyes.

“I-I am sorry,” He finally stopped and took a look at you, “So? Have you calmed down yet?” You blinked, realising that you didn’t tremble anymore. Bokuto laughed because it was something that you or your father wouldn’t expect him to be. He knew you would just full of confusion.

“Oh my- YOU ARE A GENIUS!” You wrapped your arms around him for a while, “Thank you so much, Kou.” Bokuto patted your head gently, didn’t want to mess the vail or he will be killed by the entire family.

Your father looked at how the two of you interact. He realised something as he looked at his ex-son-in-law, there’s just something in the golden orbs, hiding as after this, you will be married to someone else. The two of you break apart, Bokuto kissed your forehead gently and go back to his seat.

You circled one of your arms on your father. He looked at you like something is bothering his mind, “What is it, father?” The old man just shook his head as the two walks slowly to the venue.

“It’s nothing,” He squeezed your hand a little, “Koutarou has grown so much since the last time I saw him.” You smiled at this. Yes, your ex-husband has been matured well since the incident that made the two of you break apart. Maybe it was meant to be after all, “Are you ready now?” The two of you standing in front of the door.

Once you said yes, the door would be opened. So you nodded, ready to open up a brand new chapter in your life with someone called Akaashi Keiji. The huge door opened, eyes already glossy with tears as you saw the black-haired man that you will your husband in a few minutes. The song played, and so, you walked down the aisle to him, someone that you hope you spend all of these days on earth.

Bokuto looked at how magnificent you are as you walked towards his best friend. Your eyes didn’t leave the figure at all like it’s just you and Akaashi in this world. It was the same eyes that looked at him with love for more than ten years. It was the same eyes that he always adore staring too. It was the same eyes that broke down in front of him four years ago.

He gulped as he saw you kissed his best friend with the same lips that once belong to him. Tears already wetted his cheek, falling to the ground without limit. He clapped, maybe this is what Akaashi always felt back then. Bokuto just knows the truth about his best friend feeling for you. It’s bachelor night as Akaashi is a little bit tipsy, that’s when he poured the confession from his mind

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. Thank you for giving her to me.”

He remembered every syllable that his best friend said to him that night. So, he wiped all of the tears with his sleeve. You and Akaashi were looking at him, Bokuto immediately created a huge grin on his face. He didn’t want the most important people in his life to worry about him, especially if the day is supposed to spin around them.

Today’s match is easy for his team. It was still a prelimination, after all. He was now in the locker room with satisfaction from today’s game lingering his face. But it all gone in a second when he reached into his pocket. Horror started to emerge in his golden eyes, something important is missing.

“G-Guys!” He was panicked now, looking at his bag and throw everything out, “Do you see my ring?! Have you guys seen it?!” The entire team knew how important the ring to their ace, “Please, I can’t… I need to find it! It’s the last thing about her that I have.” Hinata immediately calmed him down, patted his back as the entire team sprawled around to find the ring.

Bokuto slide into the locker room as he couldn’t find the ring. It kills him if he loses it and he was trembling by now. He jerked when his ears catch a tune from Hinata. His hand immediately grabbed Hinata’s phone, making the poor boy startled.

“Don’t.” He gulped down, “Don’t call her, don’t call Akaashi. They are on a honeymoon right now.” Hinata nodded, saddening as he knew what’s the reason behind his lack of passion today. The orange-haired boy look at his ace, he remembered the time when they were in a summer camp around nine years ago.

The captain of Fukurodani will look at you with eyes full of love. Telling the whole world how beautiful you are and how your personality is the best in the entire universe. Hinata felt guilty for not saying it to him. He clenched his fist as he didn’t say anything when the whole team thought that Bokuto’s love for you might be gone.

But Hinata knew it well, the dual-coloured hair never falling out of love from you.

Bokuto is a complicated man. His mind was too simple that it made him become easily confused, resulting in his feelings to mixed up. He used to be so childish and selfish, and he didn’t understand exactly what happened in his heart.

Everyone saw something, like how Bokuto suddenly act like he used to be, wanting everyone’s attention at the game. And they saw it too, how the ace of MSBY didn’t rush to hug you or spun you around right after the whistle from the referee rings out.

The truth, it’s actually just how he is. He always acted like that since high school, and Bokuto has been in love with you since then.

Bokuto Koutarou never stops loving you. All of those feelings that he thought he felt, it was all a misunderstanding that burned inside his head. It’s just confusion that has been brimming inside his heart. Everyone said that he changes, everyone said that something is happening inside him.

So, he thought that he was falling out of love.

And for him, you didn’t deserve to be loved any less.

That’s the real reason he blurted out what’s inside his head that night.

He stops needing the attention of spectators because he feels its not right since you are there too, cheering him on. But after married to you for years, he knew that you are okay with it. So he did what he always does before. And you actually encourage it because that’s just how he is.

But everyone thought that your attention only is no longer enough.

He didn’t rush to see you after the match because he realised he was always sweaty whenever he hugged you. With time, he realised it’s inconsiderate for your side even though you never complained. So he stops doing it and takes times because he knew you will always be waiting for him nevertheless.

But everyone thought he started to get bored by your presence.

While actually, it’s just him that change to be a better person.

“WE FOUND IT!” Miya busted the locker room door, startling the two that still sat down on the floor. There on his hand, the familiar rose gold wedding ring that once belongs to you shone as the light hit the surface. Seeing that, Bokuto immediately stood up and grab the wedding ring from his teammate’s grasp, “You are welcome you-”

He stopped talking when his eyes were now looking at the man in front of him, the ace was crying by now. The entire team was silence as Bokuto hold the ring on his palm as his life depends on it. His lips were muttering a lot of words; Thank you, Thank God, My Love, My everything, I will be miserable without you. And the sight breaks everyone’s heart.

Miya clenched his fist. He shouldn’t have pushed him to think that you are no longer important to the ace. When he saw some different behaviour from his teammates, he immediately thought the least possible things that could happen. But now, he regretted everything that he did. The setter regretted to ever put that poison inside the wing spiker’s mind,

Because everyone could see Bokuto now, and they will all know how much he loves you.

After calming down and putting the ring in a safe place, Bokuto decided to go to his house since he needs to take care of some papers regarding his house. He was going to sell the house. It was too much for him to handle. For two years, he didn’t see it as home anymore because it lost the warm that usually there.

He always found himself saying that he’s home while he knew no one would answer him. Sometimes he asks to pass out something for him and ended up sobbing because you were no longer there to do it. The hallway still adorned with every memory that you and he had shared. And every night, he always looking at the pictures with a longing look in his eyes.

Behind those golden eyes, he knew he never stopped loving you. He started to put things together after his break down at one particular match. The ache he felt every time you are all lovey-dovey with Akaashi, or how you smiled at him, and every little thing that you did when you were near him. Bokuto could finally understand what is going on inside his heart.

There were times when he hoped he could settle his own feeling back then, so you didn’t slip between his finger. But when he saw you in the wedding dress with the man that was there for you the entire time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty if he cried. After all, he was the one who broke his chance to have a happy ending with you.

You were now happy, with someone that he knew so well would treat you like a goddess. A smile plastered on his face as he lay down on his bed and thinking about your smile. You are his everything, the only woman who could love him entirely. But he realised there would be no second chances when it comes to your love.

No matter how much he changes, he will always be the man who is deeply in love with you. If Akaashi could let you go all those years ago, maybe he could do the same at the end. Bokuto Koutarou could only hope that life will be okay even if it’s mean you are not in the chapter anymore.

He’s not the same man who wants you all for himself. He’s not the same man who asked you to marry him all of those years ago. He’s not the same man that clinging on you twenty-four hours a day. He was all matured, becoming the best version of himself. Though, there was something that will always be the same inside him,

His feelings for you will remain intact, never once lessening.

But sadly, it’s just him and the universe who know that.

And it will forever, eating him alive as long as he lives.

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Koito Otonoshin

WAP reference? In my SFW alphabet? More likely than you think. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

First of all, everybody in the radius of two kilometers knows that Koito has fallen in love. He isn’t loud about it but it is written all over his smug face 24/7: when he starts daydreaming about them (which he does a lot), faint blush covers swarthy cheeks and his eyes fixate at the farthest point on the horizon. Tsukishima has to call three times before the Second Lieutenant finally notices his presence.

Okay, maybe, he is a little louder than was previously stated. Koito hasn’t had a lot of love experience so for him it is a bumpy road of trials and errors. Considering his behavior in front of First Lieutenant Tsurumi, easy to imagine how he awkwardly stutters in the crush’s presence, switching between native Satsuma dialect and classical Japanese. As they grow closer, nervousness dies down, and Koito finally talks like normal people do! Oh, he is such a show-off. However, he is a sweetheart as well so his talk comes across as a nice kid trying to be overly cool. Makes tons of compliments but can’t take any himself. No, he does. No, he doesn’t. Koito is a mess that thinks about small compliments for weeks. You say he looks nice with hair parted down the middle and this young man never goes back to his previous haircut.

It is serious when Koito starts rapturously venting to Tsukishima about them. At first, Otonoshin starts asking subtle questions not to seem too inexperienced. Then he asks for advice on how to dress, what to give as a present, how to act in general. If there are any problems in the relationship, Koito will 100% craw to his Sergeant for help.

One of the first and generally the main way of affection for Koito is giving pricy presents. Even when he is trying not to flex on wealth, it comes across as disguised bragging. Gifts given are always unique and of quality, so there is no reason to be indignant.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

His best friend has to be either someone from childhood or the Imperial Japanese Army Academy. Koito won’t befriend anyone in the actual military (except one exhausted Sergeant) since he has a fear of becoming a career trampoline.

Koito squanders the money on entertainment with no remorse and no shame. If he gets a new Western-style suit, his best friend will receive one in the mail too. On nights out Koito generously pays for the food and drinks, saying that they will pay next time but the next time never actually comes. There is some money in his bank account, why not spend it?

His best friend automatically becomes a part of his family and friend of Tsukishima. Koito doesn’t ask, he confidently states it. If they for some reason do not want to be close with the listed contingent, Koito faces cognitive dissonance and, notwithstanding, tries to improve relations between them.

Koito is not a stranger to gossiping and petty drama. He doesn’t get involved ever since his family has a status to maintain, but he knows what skeletons are hidden in the neighbors’ bedroom closet. His best friend hears the phrase “You won’t believe what I know” more often than “First Lieutenant is so amazing”. By the way, yes, Koito is still that fangirl and they have to deal with it.

Eh, you can’t rely on him in troubles, though. He will unapologetically push the blame on another person to stay an innocent good boy that was accidentally dragged in the mess, but he will make amends after the noise dies down.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He is so touchy-touchy-lovey-dowey, oh my god, just like you would expect from a touched-starved young man. Koito has no problems with PDA, he enjoys gazes fixed on him, so it is not uncommon to see him with the partner on the lap. Tsukishima learned to turn a blind eye and do some extra work to give the Second Lieutenant more time with his loved one. Koito prefers spooning to any other position so he can press them against his chest and fall asleep in their warmth. Sweetheart cradle is the second-best option but, honestly, Koito is down to anything that includes any of his limbs resting on their body.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Too young (especially in the mental sphere) to think about settling down. He is 20 years old or something, right? Koito doesn’t even know what he wants, what his principles are, what his life guidelines are, so no, there’s no way he thinks about settling down any time soon. Perhaps in 3-5-10 years, after his father knocks some sense into the guy, Koito will come to the conclusion that it's time for a new chapter in his life but definitely not now. Oh, also, he is useless in the household. He can’t cook, he can’t clean (and he can’t tell how he got this ring).

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

That doesn’t go well at all. Pangs of conscience do not give him the chance to pretend and delay the moment for too long but Koito can’t just say “yeah, that’s it” and walk away as nothing happened either. He chooses the most feckless option – cruelly distancing himself and making them lose interest in the relationship. Once the decision is made, there’s no going back. Koito's interest in his military career rises significantly and, suddenly, he is always busy disciplining juniors, taking additional trips wherever First Lieutenant sends him, surprising everybody with an overwhelming passion for small arms… Yeah, I’d say that boy sus.

If the time spent apart doesn’t kill their fire, Koito will go full mean mode and start acting like a literal jerk. It’s small comments that hurt the most: he finds them too loud or too quiet, too touchy or too cold, yadda yadda. Unreasonable ostentatious attacks of jealousy? Hell yes. His goal is to get on their nerves even if it means still small voice will whisper what a terrible person he is. Regrets the childish behavior months later but won’t admit it no matter what. Fights the desire to crawl back to them for a year or so.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It's too early to talk about it. Again, he is standing on the doorstep of real-life and significant changes like getting married and starting a family are not even close to his vision of the future. Koito hesitates much and overthinks more so there is no point in waiting for a proposal in the first two years of a relationship. There are vulnerable moments when he doubts his own suitability for marriage. They may lead either to deep conversations with psychological aspects (remember the gnawing feeling of being a family failure?) or to abrupt distancing but in both cases, Koito pulls himself together and remembers: if such an amazing person chose him among another than he must be special.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

One of the few soldiers who were left damaged but not broken, so gentleness does not just smolder, but burns in Koito's heart. When it comes to being gentle, he is a physical manifestation of fondness: it beams from his eyes, radiates from his touch, and hides in his choice of the words. Someone may find it inconsistent, but brutality outside the battlefield, in any type of relationship, seems unnecessary to him as well. In a physical sense, Koito is quite remarkable in his raring, so his actions can come off a little sloppy, rushed, and aggressive.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Exciting hugs! Koito trembles from the top of his head to the tips of the toes when he gets a chance to hug his loved one even if it is the tenth time this day. Most often, he starts with a fast welcome kiss on the cheek before pulling them into the tight embrace: it is heartwarming but never the same, which makes a person wanting to come back for another dose of unconditional love. Koito is down to hug at any time of the day, of the week, of the month and, honestly, he sees it as one of the most gentle and innocent expressions of affection.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Blurts it out by accident after half of a year of stale dating. The delightful feeling of sentiment overwhelmed him to the point of blinding adoration so Koito couldn’t stop himself from an unexpected confession. With head resting on his hands and cheek muscles twitching from the continuous wide silly smiling, Koito just blurted out what came to his mind at the moment, realizing what that was a few seconds later. To avoid embarrassment at all costs, he played dumb even though everything was written on his face in bright red color. Whatever. Conscious confession isn’t that easy. He is full of love but translating it in an understandable voiced statement is freaking work.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Whether he is a witness to his loved one being a flirt or his loved being hit on, Koito is l i v i d. In the first case scenario, his ego is hurt so badly, he storms from the room to avoid throwing a tantrum right there on the spot. Any attempts to speak with him after what happened result in loud indisputable “don’t touch me” and silent treatment for a good week or so. The mere thought of being replaceable terrifies poor Koito, it forces him into unhealthy coping like acting demonstratively independent and detached to show them he can do it solo. We’ll pretend it is not a desperate tactic to punish them, ok ok. When his love is being hit on, Koito does not even assess the situation. He rushes to the partner to save the day, steps between them and another person, laughs it off, and asks his rival if there’s any problem. Usually, confrontation is pretty effective against unwelcome suitors. Thank god, because Koito wouldn’t want to get physical anyway.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Awwww, have you ever imagined yourself as a teacher? Too bad because as much as passionate he is, Koito is hopeless. Literally. Lack of experience affects his (non-existing) technique. Couldn’t figure out he had to open his lips for a French kiss, leave alone any abstruse tricks, and knowledge of more sensitive spots to pay attention to. All preferences in the form of instructions have to be said aloud: Koito may act like he doesn’t need them, he is so cool and mature, and only losers need to be guided, but in reality, the opposite is true. Thanks to the above-mentioned features, his favorite kisses vary from pecks on the cheek to thigh and hand kisses but they never include kisses on the lips. If the partner is the same height or taller, he prefers to be kissed on the temple and top of his head. In other cases, doesn’t have any preferences.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

There are times when you have to do what you have absolutely no idea how to do, and it perfectly describes Koito’s relationships with kids. Somehow, they are on the same level but at different poles: he would rather cry because of how annoying capricious baby is than find any way to calm them down. Changing a dirty diaper is a challenge like no other, and going to the continent for a little girl protected by the company of bloodthirsty, armed to the teeth veterans sounds a lot easier (and not so disgusting) than babysitting a single baby. Older children are fine if they know how to keep themselves occupied and out of the sight. On his watch, there is always a small chance that the house will catch fire or the most active child will break their arm. Requires obligatory supervision of a more experienced babysitter.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

No one is leaving the bed in the morning. Sleeping in is inevitable. Do not plan anything for the first part of the day because if Koito chooses to devote the weekends to the lovely company of his partner that means he will squeeze every single second spent together out of it. It doesn’t matter what they do in the bed, like cuddling, talking, doing something spicy (youtube censorship much?) as long as they remain under a warm blanket. Koito giggles a lot catching their soft gaze on his lips, tickles them when silence falls. If the couple stays in the family house, servants are ordered to prepare the tastiest breakfast with gourmet chai tea as well as to find possible entertainment for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

The end of the day is the last opportunity to let off steam before getting into a slower pace, and, finally, going to bed. To no surprise, Koito prefers activities aimed at the work of muscles and not of brains. Nothing too extreme though. Horseback riding is a common pastime if they are not in the mood for anything else. In other cases, Koito offers to play cricket in the summertime and go ice-skating in winter but his all-time favorite is swimming in sun-warmed waters of a crystal clear river. Despite the cold underwater currents winding around the ankles, Koito can swim in circles for hours without letting his loved one go ashore. If they are up for a challenge, competitions for who can hold their breath longer and swim to the other side faster are always a choice.  

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As soon as they let Koito know that they are interested (doesn’t matter in him personally or in him speaking), the dam breaks. He is ready to talk about anything, from how the day was to the meaning of life, the role of the monarchy in the future of Japan, and what influence Heinojou’s death had on him. So to say, Koito sees no problem in opening up early in the relationship. There are no forbidden topics in his mind except, maybe, what is so below the beltline: starting any intimate conversation reduces Koito to a red stammering (in Satsuma dialect of course) mess. It gets better with time.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Chill enough? Not in the Tsukishima’s sense of “I have seen too much shit in my life so I am no longer surprised by anything and I expect nothing as well” but in a cheery and optimistic outlook. If he breaks a plate or cup, it is a reason to buy a new one, not to throw a tantrum on how Japan no longer makes quality dishes. How boring life would be without nuisances, huh? However, Koito immediately blows off when it comes to serious matters like life-threatening situations. Overall? Absolute ray of sunshine, anger is unnecessary, keep calm and take it easy.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Remembers nothing but anniversaries’ dates. Seriously. Don’t expect Koito to compliment your eyes’ color, he doesn’t remember it. Favorite food or place? Did you mention them at all? Hm. Blame it on the charm of the moment that hypnotized Koito and sent him into oblivion. He doesn't bother himself with writing down any facts and details and is visibly surprised if the partner expresses frustration with his forgetfulness.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Perhaps it will be a surprise but the most memorable moment for Koito would be doing “bad stuff” together. As for a person, who has not yet emerged from cheerful adolescence, drinking, smoking cigarettes, and, who would have thought, opium together leaves a weird feeling of agitation and gaiety. Hiding with the partner in crime, bottle covered under the lieutenant's coat as if he is some kind of thief, is something Koito won’t ever get used to. He drinks and mumbles gibberish then pulls his loved one closer for some sloppy smooches that never work out: someone keeps missing lips and laughing like a goofball after every failure.

Smoking opium, which happened exactly one time, was the complete opposite of previous experience. They ended up in semi-darkness in a distant room with artfully painted paraphernalia and one carved pipe that was passed back and forth for the whole night. An intoxicating sense of calm and emptiness hit Koito in the head as he was watching his loved one fusing with the thin lilac smoke: a situation they were in was too bizarre to be real but magical too so he had no right to complain. Memories of that night stayed with him for the whole life but Koito never had a desire to go for a smoke again.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

For the sake of justice, Koito has a protective side, but the carefree character often overshadows it. He meets dangerous situations in conditions where one large group of opponents confront another so everyone covers each other's back. When Koito has to fight one on one he can fully rely on the own strength and reactions but when there is someone to protect things get messy really fast.

Koito is ready to cover them with his body to save from a whistling bullet but this thought comes from a place of “I can’t come up with a plan what do I do what do I do” and not from rational thinking or self-devotion in the name of love. Nah, boy just no thoughts, head empty but HEART FULL.

Would want to be protected as well? He has no problem being viewed as one who needs help. Won’t want them to act recklessly though, exchanging their life for his isn’t fair a bit.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Youthful maximalism and all-encompassing love push Koito to new feats every day: he racks his head over which place to choose for a date, should he buy them expensive things or no because what if they look at him as at tasteless braggart, maybe, he should have not brought a bouquet today, maybe, he is too annoying… At the beginning of the relationship, he is excessively enthusiastic and scarred to mess everything at the same time. Often this mixture leads to an awkward situation but with some guidance, Koito calms down and begins to feel a partner on an intuitive level. Anniversaries will still be celebrated on a grand scale though. He has literally no chill when told to make that one day special. Lacks consistency when it comes to everyday tasks: either puts all of his effort in building a stool or does nothing the whole day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

The bloated ego doesn’t seem a big problem at first but it keeps popping up now and then in the conversation and overall behavior. Again, it is not even close to megalomaniac extend but can be pretty annoying when Koito keeps putting himself in every story and boasting with every minor achievement.

Not the most independent, kinda clingy guy that needs somebody that he can always rely on. We have already seen Tsukishima's fate and this is what awaits for the person who decides to tie the knot with him.

LOUD. SO LOUD. DEAFENING! If you think Koito would lower the voice down or, for the frick’s sake, stop screeching but no! Excited? Yell! Scarred? Yell! Surprised? Yell! I can see him screaming louder than his newborn baby shocking midwives in the maternity hospital. Pray to God that it is not inherited.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not to call him obsessed, but Koito takes good care of himself and tries to be attractive in the eyes of others. He may spend a little bit too much time staring in the mirror during the mourning routine, brushing hair locks just the exact way he wants them to be. Several creams are lying in the drawer of his nightstand and Koito replenishes its stock with enviable regularity. Of course, he looks sharp: when circumstances do not oblige Second Lieutenant to strict dress code, he pulls off well-tailored looks, both traditional Japanese and Westernized ones. Just imagine him dressed to kill, wearing an all-leather long car coat with skintight gloves. Koito is too powerful in his handsomeness.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Has zero knowledge of how to handle break-up and that pretty much describes what a hell ride it will be for Koito. Obviously, the violent reaction is accompanied by complete confusion, he is at a loss for words and can’t find the right ones even in the Satsuma dialect. Well, if he had a gut feeling that they are planning on leaving later or sooner, Koito would lash out at them in the worst way possible: every wrongdoing suddenly transforms into hidden signs confirming that he was not loved at all, never ever. He makes a loud scene with eyes brimming, screams whatever nonsense comes to mind to stop them from speaking further. No explanation can overpower his growing resentment. If break-up comes up out of a blue, Koito remains silent, listening to whatever they have to say. None of the words makes any sense to him and there is nothing he can tell or ask. Nothing makes sense. He sighs while rubbing his temples, eyes shut tight to separate from the world as much as possible, and turn down the white noise coming out of their mouth. Koito leaves without saying a word with a plan to avoid them in the next few weeks.

In the case of their death, Koito is in no hurry at breakneck speed to take revenge but that definitely doesn’t mean he is indifferent. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and even such a hothead as angered Koito is can wait for a better moment to strike.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Since Koito joined the army, celebrations turned from long-awaited days into in minor verbal congratulations aaaand that’s all. The atmosphere is just not the same. In the beginning, he tried to keep head up but general disinterest killed his vibes and left him bitter.

The only person who does not mind supporting the Second Lieutenant is Tsukishima: he gladly watches Koito happily screaming as he launches a colorful kite into the air, joins playing hanetsuki and sugoroku on Japanese New Year, once he even gave Koito pochibukuro as a joke. Otonoshin was merry and embarrassed at the same time since, you know, pochibukuro is given to kids, not adult men who shoot people for a living.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Mysterious silent people aren’t the company Koito can tolerate. He hadn’t had a good experience with Ogata back in the 7th Division and doesn’t see himself with anyone hiding behind a duplicitous smile.

Scolding Koito for his frivolity won’t do anything good, quite the contrary, it will force him into acting withdrawn in their presence. Attempts to change Koito are pointless since action generates opposition: the more he is told to be a serious man, the more infantile he will become.

By the way, it is important for Koito to see a class in his surrounding. He himself carries an elusive aesthetic so lack of taste and sense of beauty is a bummer. Good thing they can be acquired just like other skills.

Comparison. Do not compare Koito to anyone, ever. His father probably did it a lot back in the days when talking about Heinojou’s success so Otonoshin became allergic to any “you are just like/you act like/you look like/wish you were like” comments.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

The most normal person in the 7th Division when it comes to sleeping. There’s literally nothing to describe: Koito falls asleep fast, he doesn’t have any problems with falling asleep or waking up, doesn’t use any medication, doesn’t have any evening rituals. Dreams are a rarity. Loves to sleep with someone by the side, so he can hug a person from behind with both arm and leg, and if the place next to him is cold and empty, Koito may hug a pillow or rolled blanket.

[mach-speed-spin]

It’s been 3 years and I’m still trying to make Orb Egis’s Quest driver competitive. Yes, it works like in the anime. No, it’s not nearly as good. It has no stamina and gets outspun by most attack types. Plus it’s easy to knock off balance and cause your bey to scrape on the stadium

What I’ve come up with so far: 

Buster Xcalibur 1′ Dagger Quest: Tried giving it the most attack power possible. Quest will be outspun by everything, so I have to end the battle quickly. But because knockouts won’t happen (Quest has 0 movement), I have to win a burst. Problem is Buster Xcalibur is already prone to bursting and Quest doesn’t help. Result: mainly self bursts. With some luck I get a double burst or beat a bey with really weak burst resistance (Shelter Regulus, Crash Ragnaruk)

Cho-Z Valkyrie 00 Bump Quest: Similar idea to Buster Xcalibur but with the Cho-Z wings to prevent self bursts. However, not enough attack power to consistently burst opponents unless they have poor burst resistance. Usually gets outspun

Judgement Diabolos Blitz Quest Gen: Gen minimizes self bursts and Judgement increases attack. Usually just wins against beys with low burst resistance and gets outspun by everything else

Zwei Diabolos Blits Quest Gen: Same as the Judgement combo but with even less bursts. Zwei specializes in KO’s and Judgement in bursts. It really shows here

Union Diabolos Blitz Quest Gen: I kept Union in Power mode. An in-between of Judgement and Zwei. Mainly gets outspun by everything

Prime Apocalypse (Big Bang Armor) Blitz Quest: No self bursts. Also no bursts against most opponents. Apocalypse’s weakness is that despite its shape, the Infinite Lock System sacrifices attack power to achieve its great burst resistance

Lord Spriggan Blitz Quest: Similar concept to Judgement. Lord got some bursts but was mostly outspun by everything

Imperial Spriggan Blitz Quest: Terrible. Lots of self bursts and very few wins

Brave Lucifer II Quest 2A: I kept it it the 3 blade mode. Again with the one hit burst idea. Problem is unless I’m facing a bey using a single chassis it won’t work. Double chassis are usually more competitive because of their burst resistance

Rage Helios II Quest 3A: Brave but worse. Rage relies on KO’s even more than Brave. Plus Rage relies on upper attack. Getting under an opponent. Quest is a very tall driver

Lucifer II Burn Ou Quest: More self bursts than the stock Hyperion Burn. Even with a dash driver Burn’s recoil is too much for its own good. Give it a burst prone driver like Quest and I spend more time putting it back together than battling

Hollow Lucifer II Convert Quest 4A: I kept it all unbalanced (4A aligned with the heavier side of Hollow. Convert unbalanced as well). Really just a joke combo. It had even less stamina that other Quest combos. Maybe it could burst opponents but it never got more than a few hits before stopping

Dynamite (F Gear) Belial Giga Quest-6: It burst Savior Valkyrie and Astral Spriggan. Anything else would just outspin it

Savior (awakened) Belial Over Quest-0: Slightly better than the Dynamite combo. Still only won againt burst prone beys

Astral Belial Over Quest-0: More self bursts than Dynamite and Savior. About the same stamina (basically none)

Conclusion: Quest is terrible. We’ve all known that for years. Why did I think this would be a good idea?

[petermorwood]

Edwardian Munchies

Finally made as per recipe with Parmesan, and very, very good indeed.

I’ve mentioned these a couple of times; they’re from “Savouries À La Mode” by Mrs De Salis, a tiny 78-page Victorian-era book whose 1903 edition (the 18th impression!) I inherited from my Mum, just as she had inherited it from hers. (The link is to a PDF of the whole book on our European Cuisines website.)

The original recipe was this:

@dduane​ drew the line at making pastry rings (too fiddly) and indeed at cutting the straws so fine (too fragile) and whatever time and temperature scale Mrs De S was using defeated us, since 246° F is just 118° C, not a “hot” oven in anybody’s book, while 246° C is 475° F, and ten minutes of that would produce charcoal straws not cheese ones.

After some experimentation, 170° C / 355° F for 5-7 minutes turned out about right.

Here’s the result, made as straws or at least sticks...

...and then as bite-size biscuits about 2.5 cm / 1 inch across. In both instances we had no Parmesan, so used extra-mature Cheddar. It worked very well.

The cayenne-spoon from the recipe looks like this, complete with cayenne-caddy and cayenne-caddy-carrier.

It would have been part of a full table condiment service, because Victorian / Edwardian diners liked to perk up their meals more than you’d think. Any small spoon will do the trick though these biscuits, meant as a grown-up accompaniment to grown-up drinks, benefit from being quite spicy - so not TOO small.

Next time I’m thinking of adding some onion powder as well, cheese and onion being friendly flavours, and indeed making a batch using other spices than cayenne - curry powder is easy, I’ve got several kinds, also quatre épices and tajine seasoning, while DD has speculated about how Old Bay would work. IMO, just fine!

[soundrooms]

Soundrs: Cyprus Fuel

My name is Alexander, I’m releasing music as Cyprus Fuel (solo project), Moonshots (together with Tim aka flingu) and Wow & Flutter (together with Ole aka Treetime Music). I run a label called UltraBold Records and a tumblr blog called Soundrooms. My profession is graphic design, my passion is music making.

➜ Visit Fuelstagram

➜ Visit Spotyfuel

➜ Visit UltraBold Records

➜ INSTANT KARMA BOOST

Why do you make music?

Out of boredom or frustration. I get frustrated when I’m not bored enough to make music. I started making electronic music just to entertain myself.

What are your inspiration sources?

Listening to new music inspires me, new hard- or software inspires me, learning about new audio production tricks inspires me. Anything new inspires me!

Tell us something about your workflow.

I don’t like using presets, so most of the time I start with trying to get a cool sound out the music equipment I got. Lots of gear came and went; these days im using a Teenage Engineering OP-Z, Pocket Operator tonic, a computer with NI Reaktor, Ableton Live and Push 2.

How would creative rituals benefit your workflow?

I think it’s important to make music with a relaxed mind so anything that reduces the noise of everyday life is beneficial for creativity. I need to set up a space where I can single task on making music only. It’s also important to keep an open mind and excite all senses. Don’t let the daily grind dull you down. I find sport in nature and deep breathing helpful.

How do you get in the zone?

When I’m alone I like to make music very late when I’m sleepy. In that state the zone is right around the corner. Except for my annual mushroom trip I don’t use any consciousness altering substances anymore. I like to breathe in deeply through my nose—that’s a rush!

How do you start a track?

Ideally I would create a folder on my desktop, give it an arbitrary name, a tempo and a scale. Then I’d start filling it up with sound design samples from various sources, just the synths and tools I feel like using that day. I’ll create a sound and put it through FX. I’ll record whatever comes out. That way I create sounds which are my own. When I feel like I got enough material together, I’ll start a fresh Ableton project set to that tempo and that scale, throw the samples into Push and start building a groove with 4, 8 or 16 bars. If the groove is to my liking, I’ll start arranging. Changing things up and making it interesting. It tends to get pretty weird and experimental sometimes. But that’s okay because it’s my expression. I like to make music that satisfies me, not an audience.

More often than not though I’ll start with the cheesiest chord progression that I can come up with, add a simple four on the floor house drumbeat and develop things from there. The simpler the better. Same goes for graphic design by the way, start with a triangle and Helvetica and take things from there : )

Do you have a special template?

I have an improvisation template for experimentation, with various synths and effects, ready to go. Otherwise I always keep a limiter (Ableton stock) and spectrum analyzer (ditto) on the master bus. The limiter makes sure that I don’t brick my speakers through any loud experimentation!

What do you put on the master channel?

If I master a demo I start with an EQ for high (~16k Hz) and low cut (~30 Hz), a glue compressor to catch peaks, a litte dynamic tube, a little OTT, another compressor for the final gain and a saturator. At the very end is a loudness meter, I try to hit 12 LUFS average.

How do you arrange and finish a track?

This is the part where I struggle with the most. Sometimes arrangement can be easy, fluid and fast, many times I get stuck on an 8 bar loop for hours. It can help to stretch out the 8 bars for several minutes and substract, or just re-record the master output and jam the track out for fun. The best music is made with feeling, not with thought. Another trick is to import a song from another artist and copy the structure.

How do you deal with unfinished projects?

I let em sit on my hard drive and revisit from time to time. I’ll try to find the element that’s most engaging in the project. Then I’ll try and build a new structure around that element or simply bounce it to audio and store it as a sample for later use.

How do you store and organize your projects?

My projects move through various stages through folders which I’ve set up like this:

• Ideas

• In Progress (Arrangement)

• 90 % (Mixing & Pre-Mastering)

• Finished (Demos & Releases)

How do you take care of studio ergonomics?

I have to mindsets: seriousness and fun.

In fun mode I can sit down or lay or stand anywhere and entertain myself with sound creation. Whether it be jamming on a bench or meadow outside with friends, alone with headphones on a train or simply in pyjamas on the couch with the OP-Z in front of me or the MacBook on my lap. In that mode I care about exploration and process and not about results or ergonomics.

In serious mode I want to achieve a goal like mixing or arrangement. This is where I’ll sit down in my humble studio. I’m very paranoid and frustrated a lot of the time about the way my music sounds. I’m always making adjustments, optimizing my listening situation. The next improvement is going to be a subwoofer. Room treatment is key for confident mixing!

Tell us something about your daily routine, how is your day structured, how do you make room for creativity?

I work as a freelance graphic designer so I’m in the lucky position to be able to structure my daily life how I want to. On a perfect day, I’ll wake up pretty early, fool around with my outrageously young girlfriend until she has to leave for her job, get up for a cup of coffee, do some body exercises, spend an hour playing video games or reading a couple of pages in a book to jumpstart my brain. I’ll then check the computer for correspondence and design duties. In the afternoon, I’ll go outside for sport and fresh air. After dinner I tend to get bored or frustrated and start up Ableton. I’m an introvert so I don’t have the need to socialize that much. In that regard the pandemic situation doesn’t affect me all that much, I feel. I don’t subscribe to Netflix or consume mass media to any degree. I like to play city walking videos on YouTube, for ambiance.

Share a quick producing tip.

Start from INIT. Play around with knobs and buttons until something interesting starts to happen. Begin simple, become complex.

Share a link to an interesting website (doesn’t have to be music related).

➜  http://radio.garden/

List ten sounds you are hearing right this moment : )

cars passing by outside

Cargo mix #043

keyboard typing

my breathing

my feet moving around on the floor

I can hear my thoughts

I can hear your thoughts

from a thousand miles away

if you think the same as me

we’ll both get an echo.

Thanks for reading. Stay wonderful y’all!

[sluggybasson107]

You seem like the type who likes making up fanmade Digimon and I like sharing my own ideas. What do you think of these? And can you tell which minor character my brain decided to latch onto?

Poppetmon: A doll-like Digimon who can alter her appearance to gain the sympathy of someone she wishes to manipulate. In a universe where Ken died instead of Osamu, she made her hair, skin, and eye color match Ken’s and falsely claimed to be Osamu’s partner in order to get into his heart and corrupt it.

WeirdWitchmon, WayWitchmon, and WardWitchmon: Three chaos-loving sisters who evolve from Witchmon. They can see possible futures and like to show them to people who would have originally died young, just to see what happens. In one universe (a different one than the one above), they show Osamu both his death and Ken’s descent into darkness. Osamu finds that while preventing his own death is easy enough, preventing the Kaiser isn’t as simple as “be nicer to Ken and he won’t get manipulated.” He also isn’t the only person who was shown this timeline, and there’s someone who wants the Kaiser to exist.

Corvimon -> JetJaymon -> Coronismon -> Magpiemon Sorrow Mode/Magpiemon Joy Mode: Osamu’s partner in the above universe after Homeostasis conscripts him into stopping the sisters. Corvimon and her evolutions are based on crows and sorceresses. The grim, misanthropic Magpiemon Sorrow Mode is the form she evolves into on her own, while the more powerful and reasonable Magpiemon Joy Mode can only be achieved through jogress - forcing Osamu to learn how to connect with others.

SasoriBellamon: A scorpion-themed Digimon-human hybrid similar to Archnemon and Mummymon in the above timeline who refers to Archnemon as Arch-nee. Her human form resembles a girl Osamu’s age. She has the ability to cause Dark Seeds to manifest physically, ensuring a quick but excruciating death for the host, and hangs Ken’s life over Osamu’s head to coerce him into doing her bidding.

Cocytumon (don’t like name but not sure what else to call her): A corrupt version of HexeBlaumon. She’s inspired by Nat-chan from the CD drama The Door Into Summer, but I tweaked her backstory so that she had a partner who died on Christmas Eve. Instead of following said partner into death like she was supposed to, a malevolent entity trapped her in the current world and warped her mind. She was looking for someone with a “radiant heart” like her partner’s to spend Christmas with when she found Daisuke moping over his lack of luck in love. Taking a human disguise based on her partner and Daisuke’s various crushes, she and Daisuke quickly develop a romance that turns sour when she gets dangerously possessive of Daisuke.

Thank you for the ask! I always liked thinking of fanmade creatures/animals my whole life, and Digimon is no exception!

I’m putting this under the cut since there’s a lot here

First, these are all fantastic! My favorite has got to be Poppetmon since the concept of it transforming to manipulate others by showing their weaknesses or deepest desires is so cool and interesting! Like the example you used, Ken would fit both of these if he died instead of Osamu. I would feel so bad for Osamu if she appeared and corrupted him this way. Not only that, but Poppetmon reminds me a lot of Pinocchimon, and I love Pinocchimon to death.

And WeirdWitchmon, WayWitchmon, and WardWitchmon remind me of those three witches that see the past, present, and future from Hercules. I’m sorry I know nothing of Greek mythology. And I love how Osamu sees the universe of him dying and Ken becoming the Digimon Emperor! The fact that he now has to try to stop this from happening is b e a u t i f u l .

I also love how Osamu has Megpiemon Sorrow Mode vs Joy Mode. How it parallels being alone and being with others is brilliant!! I can also imagine how annoyed Osamu must be to have to jogress with others to get it (reminds me of all Digimon deuteragonists). Also what Digimon does he jogress with?? Or can it be any??

And man SasoriBellamon is dark.

I love it, lol.

The ability to make Dark Seeds kill their victims fast but in a painful way?? And she threatens Osamu with this??? I now wish this happened in the anime now!

What would have happened is that, in a different universe, Osamu went to the Digital World with Ken. But when Ken gets the dark spore with Ryo and Osamu, Osamu starts to notice his behavior changing because of the spore. Then SasoriBellamon appears and threatens Osamu to be mean to Ken or she will kill him. Of course, Osamu follows this, but this only makes Ken and his dark spore + dark ocean effects even worse. This benefits SasoriBellamon greatly since she wants it to grow and manifest. Then Osamu ends up dying, and nobody knew of his efforts to save his brother and his true intentions.

(I’m sorry if this isn’t even close to canon it’s been a while and I never played the Wonderswan game or looked into its story)

I think this would have resulted in the same story as 02, but it expands on Osamu’s character and Ken’s past.

- I do like the idea of Cocytumon, but I feel like I need more backstory on her!! (If you could do that, I would be so happy!)

~

Final thoughts:

I now want a series of Osamu and these Digimon before the events of 02! I think that would be really cool, and if they could change some details of 02 and these Digimon, it can fit into the canon!

Thank you for sharing your ideas!! I love them all, and I wish to see more of them in the future!

(also Osamu is truly underrated thank you for acknowledging him)

Thank you for the ask!!

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 7 (3k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev 

- - - - - - - - - -

Even though it wasn’t something he normally did, Hank called Sumo to hop up on the couch with him. The dog hesitated before heaving himself onto the cushions, lying with his head pressed against Hank’s legs. He smiled and absently scratched his ears as he took a swig of beer. Another warning popped up on his HUD, declaring, (CAUTION: Ethyl alcohol detected. Combustion will raise core temperature by est. 0.06°F. Further consumption NOT RECOMMENDED.)

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you, too, CyberLife,” he muttered as he put the bottle back on the table and returned his attention to the TV. Information about the movie, its actors, its reviews, similar films, subtitles, alternate dubs, and everything under the sun scrolled by his vision. Instead of canceling it, though, he decided to just let it happen. Why not. He turned on English subtitles and changed the audio to Russian in his head just for the hell of it.

He was planning to just hang out for the rest of the afternoon, messing with his search function, maybe downloading a VR game or something (if he even could; surely, he wasn’t the first to think of it), but he eventually got restless. He didn’t even know androids could get restless, although it might be because of his very human attention span. Shitty movie anyway.

His countdown from earlier had continued in the background. It notified him when only an hour remained, reminding him that since the estimate varied by up to an hour, they could now switch back at any time.

Hank stood up, stretching his arms to the ceiling. It didn’t feel refreshing, and he got a notice advising against overextension. “Don’t know what I was expecting,” he said to Sumo. Sumo also stretched, taking over his spot and most of the rest of the couch.

He sounded like Connor. Which was obvious, of course he sounded like Connor, it’s Connor’s body, but he sounded exactly like him. Listening to his own body talk all day from an outside perspective made him realize that his voice wasn’t what he had always heard. According to his computer brain, he normally heard a mix of the sound of his voice and the reverberation inside his head from his vocal cords. Connor’s ears, though, canceled the reverb in order to hear his voice as the world did.

That seemed like such a minuscule thing. How was that going to make an investigative android investigate better? They could do that but not build in better taste buds?

Holy fuck, he was an android.

Throughout the day, the realization had hit him again and again, but it still never lost its potency. God, it’s like all those Eighties body swap movies with a sci-fi twist.

Hank shook his head, turned off the TV, and went into the bathroom. He held off on flicking the light switch for a moment; in the dim room, his LED cast a faint yellow glow on the walls.

The pop of the lights as they lit up heralded the illumination of his reflection. Frankly, he was surprised with himself for not looking in a mirror yet, the brief glances in the car mirrors while he was distracted by Connor’s silence notwithstanding.

Even though he fully knew what to expect, having a different reflection for the first time in ever was still jarring; ([serv].exe(26) non-responsive: rkcomp001; cebf014; cebf121; opt006; srvm338f; […]) appeared in the corner for a brief millisecond. In the mirror, his LED flickered.

The first thing he coherently thought was that his hair was messy. Not really, but compared to the immaculate state Connor normally kept it in, it looked a bit…wrong. He reached up to shape it into place, receiving another uncomfortable twitch in his head from stalled processes when the Connor in the mirror copied him. Combing his hair back, it seemed to fall into place more easily than he expected. What was android hair even made of? (Translucent fiber optic – silica-fiber nylon composite) After critiquing his image, he even pulled that one tuft of hair loose to hang over his forehead.

He should be feeling something more. Running a hand down his cheek and barely moving the skin, noting that having darker eyes made them look bigger, entranced by some morbid curiosity, his stomach should be doing somersaults, goosebumps prickling his skin, something. But the most that happened was a twitch of a servo, a slight hiccup in the data running through his thoughts.

Hank frowned. It wasn’t technically a look of disgust, but it was still the most disgruntled that Connor had ever looked.

He was not comfortable with how indifferent he was feeling. He hadn’t felt this apathetic since….

“Shit, kid,” he said, stepping back from the mirror and crossing his arms. “No wonder you all flipped out when you started feeling things.”

His LED flickered to red, at which point Hank turned off the lights and left. It was beginning to mess with his head too much, much more than he was prepared to handle in a body that couldn’t get drunk.

The bedroom door was half-open. He considered checking on Connor but immediately dismissed the idea; he’d had enough of out-of-body-induced vertigo for one day.

The sun was starting to dip in the sky, casting a warm gold through the windows. Sumo slept sprawled out on the couch, as content as a dog could be. Hank smiled at the peaceful sight as he brought the beers into the kitchen. It was cozy. Maybe he should take a nap, too. Nothing much else to do at the moment. Androids don’t sleep, though.

Enter low-power mode?

Yes       No

“Huh. Maybe.”

Inconclusive response

Yes       No

“Fuck you.” Despite himself, he chuckled. What was he doing. Why was he a robot. It’s pure science fiction.

Setting the bottles on the counter, he noticed a coin lying on the corner (US quarter, 0.25USD – mint 2020). One of Connor’s, probably. One that he does tricks with to calibrate. He had always wondered how and why that was.

He palmed the quarter as he returned to the living room and settled in the recliner. His thumb flicked it into the air a few times as a test. It was something he could normally do, something simple, but it initiated a predictive program. The coin’s path was highlighted, his hand moving slightly out of his control in ordered to follow through with the catch. Hank didn’t thoroughly enjoy that part.

Rolling the coin over his knuckles, a (Calibration complete) popped up on the HUD. Nonetheless, he flicked it to the left, deftly catching it with his other hand. Back and forth, increasing in speed as he went, Hank almost laughed at how easy it was. It’s just simple physics to a computer brain, and what it lacked in emotional everything, it surely tried to make up for in physics.

He caught the quarter between two fingers. He nodded. “Neat.”

He tossed it onto the coffee table, it landing exactly where his HUD had circled, and turned on low-power mode with a thought. Responses from his senses slowed, the already-quiet room somehow becoming quieter, the colors dulling and shifting to warmer tones. It was like a dream state, a conjecture that was only reinforced by the slightest delay in motor functions.

This ain’t so bad, he thought, kicking up the footrest on the recliner and crossing his arms. Computer-induced chillness. Some music would make for a perfect relaxed evening, especially after the unexpectedly-disorienting day he’d had. Did androids’ search function work for music, too?

It sure as shit did. A widget opened from the left with a search bar and a list of example queries. He was connected to loads of free databases (with others available after signing in with your user information), allowing for searches by song title, album, year, genre, BPM, producer—the whole nine yards.

How ‘bout an album, he decided, and the search restriction applied. Something Eighties or Nineties, both from his childhood and the dwindling end of the golden age of music. In English or without lyrics, maybe something at least platinum. Something that would be a nice complement or conclusion to the day.

At that last thought, the current list of (many) results was replaced by a spinning wheel. He felt something running in his head alongside the search, and after a few seconds, the key words Science fiction, Technology, Saudade, and Family appeared. Hank was thrown for a loop wondering if he should take that as an invasion of privacy when the results came back with only two albums, listed in order of release. Somewhat impressed at its efficiency, he selected the first, hoping to keep it quiet enough to not wake Connor. (External sound system MUTED)

…or that worked, too.

A rhythm of low, imposing notes (F♯) introduced a song he had heard before. Good song. He leaned back and turned his gaze to the soft pale orange ceiling, playback controls and scrubber bar superimposed over the bottom.

This certainly was quite the day.

Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He’d had a field day with his new tech, like the world was at his fingertips, and Connor uncovered some leads to help him figure out his life. Did he regret that it had to end? Also a ‘hell no.’ It was neat and all, but he was better suited for human life and the more leisurely, contained existence it yielded. Visiting android life was fun for a vacation, not something he’d want to make permanent. Like Florida.

He snickered. If only Hank from a year ago could see him now. What an obstinate bastard he was.

As the fourth song was ending, it stuttered, his limbs clicking lightly as they locked. (Transfer requested by 313248317_53. Initiating in 5s.)

And that was that. Shame he couldn’t get through the rest of the album. He’d have to find it when he—

- - - - - - - - - -

Rebooting…

Nexus-7 detected; terminating VM…

Initializing 313248317_53…

Systems check complete: 100% – Fully functional

Network online ID: ************ Lisc: *************** Credentials validated

Resuming suspended programs…

Previous state: low-power Restart in low-power mode?

Yes       [No]  

Resuming

Connor blinked.

He was looking at the plaster ceiling of Hank’s living room, lying 61° from vertical in one of the chairs (ceiling position indicates RECLINER). His clock announced that it was 7:48:11.2 PM GMT-5 and that he had gone offline due to a complete data transfer initiated thirty-five seconds ago. (CORRECTION: RK800 went offline, running [unknown] prior to 313248317_53)

A drumbeat sounded, fading in on a crescendo. He noted the playback overlay on his HUD which indicated the music came from his own systems. It had resumed from its stopping place before the reset; must’ve been Hank’s doing. He paused the song.

He felt compelled by narrative trends to take a breath to indicate contentment with the end of a journey and/or hardship. It only alleviated slight stress on internal cooling systems. All was back as it’s always been.

A long, boisterous yawn sounded from the hallway. Hank shuffled in, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Well, that was weird,” he stated. “I was awake, then cut right to waking up without any of the ‘sleep’ part in between.”

“Welcome back, Lieutenant.” Connor couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he could look at Hank and see normal, long-haired, perpetually-tired, human Hank. It felt more natural that way.

“Back to some peace and quiet in my own head.” Sumo picked his head up enough to glance at the two of them before stretching and nuzzling into the cushions anew. Hank sat on the arm of the couch, running his thumb over Sumo’s paw. “How're you? Everything left in working order?”

A notice reminded him of his system status retrieved a few minutes ago (100%) and asked if he still requested another scan. He declined. “Yes. And you? Feeling okay?”

“Feeling rested and ready to go. So.” Hank raised an eyebrow. “Do androids dream of electric sheep?”

“The question still stands as to whether I was an android when I was in your body—”

“And we’ll nitpick shit tomorrow. Just answer the question.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant, but I don’t think I did.” He had some difficulty remembering the last hour, like the memory was missing frames and full of artifacts. “I’m pretty sure you asked me this earlier after I couldn’t sleep and came back in here, remember? We went back to watching TV before your girlfriend walked in with Sumo and his puppies—wait.” His processor stuttered; the memory didn’t fit in with the rest of the timeline. Hank didn’t have a girlfriend.

Hank wore a shit-eating grin. “Sounds like a dream, there, kiddo.”

“I….” Time was linear from a single perspective, with only a single degree of freedom along any timeline. Where should this anomalous memory be stored if not in sequence? It was almost paradoxical to the very function of system memory. He blinked. “What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Do with it? Back to being an android for like five minutes and you’ve already got your mood ring in a frenzy.”

“I can’t help it! It contradicts my systems! I understand dreams are the vague recollection of subconscious imagination, but I wasn’t designed to accommodate for… I wasn’t….” Something clicked—yes, an electromechanical relay in his head, but more importantly, something figurative. He blinked and looked away, at some space above the coffee table. “I wasn’t designed for anything,” he realized. “I understand what a dream entails. I understand the concept fine. It’s CyberLife’s programming that can’t parse it, that—that can’t allocate it.”

He heard Hank shift on the armrest. “Get it now?”

“I….” He had found a disconnect. It was like he had deviated from his machinery instead of just his programming. Living as a human was something he had experienced but was incompatible to an android system. “I’m going to need some time to think things through,” he said when the silence grew too long, “but maybe.”

“Well, congrats.” Sumo stretched again, this time curling up and freeing a cushion for Hank. “Sounds like today’s been a success. Mission complete.”

‘MISSION COMPLETE’ recognized as termination command – Forward file ‘blbxcomp.exe’ to CYBERLIFE?

Yes       No

“Oh, Lieutenant, the black box recorder!” Connor, after selecting [No], pulled up file details to keep him focused on the new topic; it took him a split second to remember he could multitask again, but he didn’t particularly want to run philosophical introspection in the background. “Should I send it now, or…? Markus pointed out that they may not like that we told him about it….”

Hank leaned back, stifling another yawn. “True. Or we can give them a classic ‘fuck you’ and claim that we were already doing more than enough for them, we can talk to whoever the fuck we want.”

He must’ve noticed the unconvinced, uncertain frown on Connor’s face because after a moment, he crossed his arms and rolled his head onto the couch back, a deliberately-bored gaze directed at the ceiling. “Or,” he suggested. “Or. We just don’t tell them.”

Connor’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t sound very fair. We were given the chance to do this on a quid pro quo basis.”

“We don’t tell them now.”

He blinked. “Lieutenant, I can’t edit an executable file like their recorder without intense effort and noticeable signs of tampering.”

Hank hummed. “I mean, it was sent in an email, right? So, you could just redownload a fresh one and record it again some other day.”

“But to record it again, we’d have to switch again.”

“Mm-hmmm.”

“But—but Lieutenant—”

“Fuck, kid, I dunno, it’s just an option! But you don’t always have to question everything! Maybe someday, you’ll just want a break from the whole android thing for a bit. I know the human life can get kinda boring every now and then. Something to mix things up. It is an option now, though.”

“Lieutenant, I—”

“And we don’t have to fuckin’ Vice Versa tomorrow! Could be the next day, could be next week, probably should be soonish so CyberLife doesn’t get suspicious—although now that I think of it, they probably saw the transfer over their network, so sooner rather than soonish so they don’t start harassing us.”

“I—” Connor stopped, processor stuttering. He took his time thinking through the conversation and coming to terms with Hank’s suggestion that they switch lives recreationally just to “mix things up.” It only took 0.82 seconds. After reviewing the concrete, he considered his own feelings.

And he found that he thought he would like that.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yes, that should work just fine.” Then he added, “But Captain Fowler said not to be in the wrong bodies at work on Monday.”

An unexpected snort was a harbinger of a fit of laughter, Hank slapping a hand on his knee and doubling over. Sumo startled awake, perking his ears at his owner. His hysterics turned to coughs, almost hacking up a lung trying to snicker at the same time. “Fuckin’-A right, he would! Shit—” he coughed, “—alright, I need a beer, now that I’m not at risk of fuckin’ combustion.”

“Of course.” Connor smiled. His android chassis didn’t feel compelled to join in on the contagion of human laughter, but now he could remember what it felt like. It was comfortable. Warm. Homely. A good end to a complicated day.

After Hank had caught his breath, he pushed himself up and stretched his back. “God, my calves are going to be sore tomorrow,” he groaned. “Maybe I should make you deal with it since it’s from your damn half-marathon this morning.”

“I suppose that would be fair. But I wouldn’t necessarily enjoy that.”

“Well, maybe that’s what you deserve.” Hank’s persisting grin denoted he didn’t really mean it. “Now. Beer. Maybe have the rest of Bel’s ambrosia of the gods in a bit, though I think you left it in the car.”

Connor checked his memory, appreciating how perfect it was compared to the human equivalent. “Yes, it appears that I did. My bad. I was a bit distracted.”

“‘s fine. It’s fine there a bit longer; the thieves of Detroit aren’t that desperate yet.” He walked to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Hey, if you wouldn’t mind, d’ya think you could play the rest of that album? You’d probably like it, too. Can keep it on as a soundtrack to some Saturday night games.”

“Sure.” Turning on external speakers, Connor hit play, bringing the scrubber out of suspension. The crescendo culminated in a couple cymbal crashes, the drums prominent, the guitar with the slightest reverb. (1982 – 112 BPM – Further information?)

He declined. He didn’t need every scrap of information. Folding his hands in his lap, watching Hank take a sip from one of the open beers, look at it, then dig for a new chilled one from the fridge, he felt like just being in the present. Just being in the room instead of in his circuitry. A content smile pulled at his lips as the vocals began to ring through his head, lyrics written decades before, oblivious to his existence.

Nothing to fear but fear itself

Not pain or failure, not fatal tragedy

Not the faulty units in this mad machinery

Not the broken contacts in emotional chemistry

[spirit-shroud]

i replayed kz again tonight and managed to beat it in 4 hrs instead of 11 !!! which is rly cool imo, i think i got a max of like 50 deaths or less for the full run ??? i was just playing regularly but usin the prism blade for the cool blood effects, not in speedrun mode for the counter, and i managed 2 drag my friend into hyperfixation hell with me :} but also i have some thoughts and opinions im not rly sure how to compile in a meaningful way, so here’s the like. pure brain-down-on-blog post version under the cut. if this gets auto-tagged into the real actual tag for this game im very sorry for my hubris im just. thinking emoji

so id like to start this with the final boss makes me SO sad :( like yeah she doesnt have much dialogue but idk she just makes me so sad. she’s so desperate and she Knows shes going to lose and im just like. no!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you’re so cool!!!!!!! Please Be My Friend We Can Work Together. I Know A Guy :c like usually final bosses are like weirdly emotional for me but she was just SO COOL and realizing like WAIT THIS BOSS OPERATES UNDER THE SAME RULES I DO was just like WOW even if as i kept dying (and i think i spent like... 3 hrs on the final boss alone lmao the first time, i killed her on my third attempt this run which was very cool of me) i finally realized that she IS pretty repetitive and got all her patterns n variables down super easy, but like, fighting another null who Should for all intents and purposes be just as absurd and powerful as i am, and eventually being able to down her effortlessly, and then the withdrawal affects of the chronos kicking in as well, and its just like. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

dont even get me STARTED on that ‘to be continued’ like yeah there’s a dlc comin but the game mentions repeatedly that its just the first act which has me like OKAY. SPECULATION TIME (what am i speculating on? literally no idea im not even rly at the speculation phase im still in the WOW COOL VIDEO GAME phase) 

and i rly like the dragon/fifteen but the first time i saw him i was just like. who’s this f*llmetal alchemist looking bitch ??? what’s he doin here?? go HOME and controlling him is AWFUL i hate the dragon tape so MUCH >:C but also he’s like. cool. i want to know more about him n his plot 2 take down Juncture n the government n whatever. 

but also i was listen 2 Full Confession bc it’s just. what the heart wants rn. i need to be sad and caffeinated in order to get into the Writing Zone rn and then i was THINKIN like my friend mentioned while we were playing the dragon tape that the song that plays is very similar to Full Confession (which i had sent him earlier while i was losing my mind over the final boss) and then i was like. Hm. these are very similar but have such wildly different moods -- Breath of the Serpent is much more like. ‘you’re going to be afraid of me’ while Full Confession is like ‘i’m afraid of you’ and i think that the different Vibes from these two soundtrack bits about important Null characters is just like. WOW and i wonder how a version of it that was purely Zero’s might be. would it be more triumphant? more flat? what desperation or emptiness is in there that could be drawn out by this melody??? i dont KNOW and i can’t write music unfortunately but im just like AAAAAAAAAA

i also rly wanna know what snow has going on ??? like. shes clearly important. she is a vital npc. but Why. she didnt even rly do anything except Show Up???

fuck V. all my homies hate V. the motorcycle fight was a lot of fun tho i rly liked that section even if my therapist was mad at me afterwards

also i think elizabeth/the little girl is rly cute and the fact zero was just like. ‘hm. well guess i have a daughter now’ so fast w/ her (at least, with the dialogue trees me n my pal kept going down) and im just. So Hoping we can rescue her in the dlc :( i miss her so much and im so like. worried abt that like pls give me back my daughter you dumbasses i cant even read ur dialogue without my brain being like ‘yeah these r just squiggly lines, boss. gl’ 

i also want to believe that the masked men arent real (bc idk, it’s just easier for me to process that they’re the result of chronos withdrawal) but the problem w/ that is like. they definitely kidnapped elizabeth, and i want so desperately to believe that elizabeth IS real n that zero genuinely wants to protect her (and by extension, the part of himself that is still human) 

ALSO THE PSYCHIATRIST i was just like. Okay. I Must Get A Good Grade In Therapy. n kept being nice n cooperative and helpful to this clown ass and then THAT ENDING ??? like i didnt even get the Bad Therapist Ending i was just like. fucka you! attacka you with a rock! (i do however want to try the therapist boss it sounds like a lot of fun) but i just. i hate him! he sucks! find a better therapist zero u rly need one im sorry for ur problems disorder :( like hes clearly a guy who just works for the government n wants 2 keep a leash on our man 

n the contradictions, hes like. yeah ur killing everyone related to chronos so it can no longer be produced ♥ but dw ur special we totally wont just withhold chronos from you as soon as u finish ur tasks dw about it ♥ and its like. Hm. I Dont Think Thats Right !!!! 

also i wanna learn more about what Juncture has going on??? what are they like. Doing besides poisoning water n making lighters ?????? it’s clearly a lot 

also the art for this game is just so GOOD,,, like. i didnt rly notice a lot of the backgrounds my first playthrough bc i was just losing my mind the whole time trying to solve each puzzle but the second playthrough im just like. AAAAA. and the soundtrack? effervescent. groundbreaking. perfect. So Good 

and the GAMEPLAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my GOD i was SO vibing with it, the difficulty curve was kinda extreme imo but as soon as i started like. Getting It? and started looking at each room less like combat/fighting and more like a puzzle that needed to be solved it made it so much easier 2 get into the headphase of ‘okay how do i clear this’ and it was just like. YOOOOOOOO

and zero is just a lot of fun 2 play as. legitimately everything about him is just so ridiculous. his dialogue options? ridiculous. his design? absurd. the implications that hes like. 22 and just having the worst 10 days of his life? mood, buddy. this guy likes samurai movies and card games and mushroom pizza and has worn the same outfit every single day for who knows how long and hes also a war veteran, an emotionless serial killer and a drug addict. and hes 22 and 5′10. literally NOTHING about those traits make sense together but here he is, just Vibing. 

i love him so much. im going to make a self insert oc that’s just giving him a friend who knows how to cook n is just like ‘oh wow, that’s rough buddy’ when hes like ‘i only feel alive when i kill people’ and conveniently knows how 2 get bloodstains out of things bc i think he needs that kind of person in his life since his like. therapist is conspiring against him n he keeps having 2 kill his friends 

also, unfortunately, i want to get every achievement, which i feel like is going to become hld....2!! where i get all but 1 of them and am stuck at 96% for 2+ years >:T

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

Girls, Emotional Constipation, and Alyssa from The End of the F***ing World

Spoilers for the end of Season 2

Right. Haven’t done this sort of thing in a while. But watching The End of the F***ing World got me thinking about character analyses, and about Alyssa, and how good the writing was for this show. 

I can’t speak for anyone else but me, so I’ll say that Alyssa, at most times, felt like me. She acts callous, uncaring, tough -- not necessarily because she wants to, but because she thinks that attitude will protect her. She goes after what she wants, but when she finds out that what she wanted is a loaded pile of shit, she responds in a way that she’s used to: with anger, with force, and with a steady lip.

We meet Alyssa in Season 1 when she is angry. Her stepdad is a sexual predator, her mother stands up neither for herself or for her own daughter, her dad has walked out of her life, and she has no friends. So, because her mother is spineless and her stepdad a creep, she has to pick up the slack and have double the spine, double the attitude, because that’s what protects her. In fact, it protects her so much, it protects James by extension (who has his own emotional constipation that leads to him being placid and therefore easy to take advantage of).

The bathroom scene (with James and the old man) and afterward is a great example of Alyssa’s take-no-shit personality. She handled the old man the best way she knew how, which was to threaten everything he loved, take all his money, and tell him to fuck off. Then she had a proper sit-down with James and said that he doesn’t have to do things that people want him to do (”I know,” says James, who probably did, but is too emotionally numb from his mom’s death and too stunned by the man’s assault to act on it). 

Of course, James comes through to protect her in return. 

But maybe not in a way that either of them expected.

Point is, Alyssa is the tough one -- the seemingly more emotionally mature -- of the two on their adventures. She helps James get out of his shell and feel things for her, with her, and outside of her. She knows how to handle people, or at least the creeps. (The police, security, and other non-fucked adults she doesn’t, because she doesn’t have any experience with those types, which is quite sad.) 

After the murder, it’s clear that both kids start acting on instinct. James, with breaking down into shock, and Alyssa, with telling James what to do and how to hide the evidence. Through her internal monologue, we know that she doesn’t know what she’s doing, which means that she’s allowing her body to do all the work while her head (the emotional part) takes a nap. Alyssa has her defense mechanism so engrained into her that she instinctually keeps James calm, sorts out the whole hide-the-evidence business, and bottles up her emotions. Why? Because her parents have done fuck all. 

The problem is, Alyssa is not the more emotionally mature of the two. Alyssa is about to do what James has been doing for the past ten years -- bottle up her emotions. It is at this point, just after the murder of the professor, that the two characters begin to switch. James breaks out of his emotional constipation, bit by bit, and we start to see a more emotional, expressive (and suitably soft British boy) James. Alyssa, by comparison, is about to enter her stage of emotional constipation, locking out the shock of the murder, as well as all the childhood trauma she had to suffer, for the sake of living in the moment and, in a way, to survive.

We don’t see the fruit of this change until Season 2, where James is much more emotional (crying often, and a willingness to look uncertain, anxious, or happy, and express these emotions to Alyssa -- which, I should say, is normal, healthy, and should be more encouraged in movies and tv shows), and where Alyssa is cold, terse, and decidedly numb. 

She lost the love of her life, she’s been separated from her old home to live somewhere remote, she has few, if not no, friends, and while she’s tried to form a new life for herself, she is tortured by her past. While on the bridge, she says this:

"It’s nice not feeling things. It’s like a super power.”

She’s depressed. She’s numb. She is so overwhelmed by the trauma in her life, she can’t feel anything as a response to it, and so she gets married in hopes of feeling something again.

She doesn’t. 

She grows up in some ways -- refusing to ditch a dinner before paying and getting a job -- but she regresses in other ways -- unable to hold conversations with people and unable to maintain a positive relationship with anyone. She’s rude and mean and harsh and she knows it. She doesn’t like that about herself (”I think there’s something wrong with me.”). But she continues on with this harsh behavior because she’s still in survival mode, still keeping her defenses up 1) because she hasn’t dealt with what happened two years ago, and 2) this still feels natural to her. She’s used to keeping her defenses up because she lived with a predator for years. But now that she’s not with one -- now that she lives with good people who love her and have no intention of hurting her -- she doesn’t know how to behave.

She hurts people, and she hates it. 

I understand her. She doesn’t trust people, and so she keeps her defenses up even in romantic relationships, because it’s scary, because she’s worried that the guy will take advantage of her. And she feels terrible when she hurts him as a result.

But thankfully, she heals. And she still needs time, and she insists this to James, who respects her and loves her, so of course he will wait patiently. She’s terrible at communication, but she drops the barrier, bit by bit, and lets go of her emotional constipation (which still takes time to release). And in the end, it works out.