#But more importantly breaking a state of BEING altogether

[molinaesque]

#i think the reason their gender dynamic works as well as it does is that cooper doesn't treat her differently because she's a woman #like yes he's violent and cuts off her finger etc. (in retribution for her biting his off ofc) #but it's clear that he'd be just as violent with anyone else if not more so #and it's clear that his brutality is the norm of the setting and is (in a sense) what is required if you want to survive the wasteland #one moment that i feel like people don't talk about enough is when cooper sells lucy to the people at the super duper mart #and when she's talking to the robot she's like "oh thank god i thought i was being sold into sexual slavery!" #like obviously being sold to organ harvesters isn't BETTER but i think it's notable that between two horrific possible fates #cooper consigns her to the less gendered one #it also provides an interesting contrast to the vaults where women are primarily valued for their ability to reproduce

- @ravenkings

"What are you?" "Oh, I'm you, sweetie. You just... give it a little time."

[fitzrove]

So... what really would've gone down if Mayerling 1889 didn't happen?

Under the cut for speculation & surface-level research... I may write a better post about this someday later. Tysm @baldandersss for inspiring this hehehe

This is a favourite topic for many a "historian" (lol) online, people love to think about what would have happened if Rudolf hadn't died in 1889. Setting aside other things that could've killed Rudolf (we don't know for sure if he had syphilis, Brigitte Hamann sometimes says no - gonorrhea only, but he believed it was syphilis and therefore progressive and uncurable - but in later interviews she switches to yes, it was syphilis; also, maybe stephanie would've eventually gotten tired enough and murdered him (JOKING)), let's pretend for a moment that he actually managed to survive until the 20th century and beyond lol

Now, it's late and I'm not going to google all the stuff that happened between 1889 and 1914 LOL rip, but the thing with 1914 is:

I'm not altogether sure it would've made a difference in the grand scheme of history, ie. Rudolf could not have prevented WW1 from occurring

unless a bunch of people got cool about a bunch of stuff really quickly

according to wikipedia The Bosnian Serb students who planned out the attack mostly cited larger anti-imperial motivations (= the attentat was conceptualised as a heroic bid to free the homeland from decades of tyranny and forced organisational/governmental/political assimilation - omg fun fact this also happened in Finland in 1904 for similar reasons but nobody cared so there was no war xD), but there was also a slight personal aspect to it, because Franz Ferdinand had advocated for even further imperial consolidation, and the assassin actually stated that one of his motivations was to prevent further developments in that vein from occurring by removing FF from the playing board.

-> would a "fairer" archduke - or crown prince - have made a difference? More importantly, could we assume that Rudolf would've actually held substantially different views (in terms of political thought Rudolf was "fairer" to the Slavic peoples of the empire than many others at court, but he was still an imperialist at heart, he didn't want A-H to break apart into independent nation-states - which is the opposite of what radical nationalists all across Europe wanted), AND even if he did, could we assume that evidence of his views would've been widespread enough to make the nationalists hope that once he became emperor, things would get better?

There's simply too many questions, I don't know if it could've worked out... Of course, maybe the overall political line of the court would've been different if Rudolf lived, but that would've necessitated actual power and influence for Rudolf... and idk if any was forthcoming especially once he started to be viewed as mentally unstable and/or morally repugnant by family members, members of the court and the general public (in the late 1880s). So in general I would assume that Mayerling as an event actually isn't historically as momentous as people sometimes say - it's a symptom, not a cause. Really, the real tragedy is the build-up of a political system that's so hostile to idealist liberalism that people in power (or adjacent to power!) who go/think against the system don't have a chance to affect change AND find their very existence unsustainable

(of course there was a level of personal tragedy too, not being able to cope with everything AND having limitations to how you could solve your problems because status made many things impossible for Rudolf, but...)

Also, @baldandersss pointed out that this version of events would've made Rudolf alive at the time of Elisabeth's death - surely a tough blow, especially given the circumstances...

[hjohn3]

Long Hot Summer

The Rise of the Far Right on Britain’s Streets

Source: Sky News

By Honest John

SUDDENLY, BRITAIN’s fascist moment seems to be a little bit closer. As the summer’s temperatures rise, so does the heat on the street, and the far right are now on a wholly nihilistic march. It has been clear for some years that the fascist right in this country has long abandoned its historical attachment to anti-semitism and visceral biological racism and has turned its focus on Islam - portraying the religion, but more importantly, Muslims themselves, as fundamentally opposed to British values and with an intent to “take over” the country culturally and in population terms. This anti-Muslim stance is allied to a hostility to illegal migration (the “small boats” of Rishi Sunak’s half hearted culture war) and a peculiar advocacy for authoritarian law and order despite the far right “protests” being reliably intimidatory and destructive in towns and cities all over the U.K. since the appalling murders of three children in Southport last week.

There have been a series of “incidents” over the last month that have provoked the spin offs of the disbanded English Defence League, which are myriad and hard to pin down but nonetheless organised, to take to the streets in overtly anti-Muslim, anti-immigrant and racist riots masquerading as protests. The first was a punch-up at Manchester Airport, recorded on CCTV and phone video footage, when two thuggish Asian lads assaulted police officers called to break up a fight, but which culminated in one of said lads being tasered and then kicked in the head while helpless on the floor by an armed officer clearly out of control. This led almost immediately to a liberal leftist/Muslim activist rent-a-crowd protest against alleged racist policing and the Asian boys being represented by dubious lawyer Akhmed Yakoob (who has form as a pro-Gaza candidate at the General Election, and also outed as a base misogynist). What should have been no more than an “incident” requiring investigation, soon took on the contours of a culture war as hyper liberal activists in possession of half the facts turned the fight into a “Muslim” issue and the reliably loathsome Reform MP Lee Anderson opined that he would like to give the police officer who kicked the prone suspect in the head, a medal for his assault. The temperature began to rise, despite the nuanced nature of the affair (significantly Yakoob has since dropped the case).

This incident had been preceded a few days before by a riot in the Hatfield area of Leeds instigated by the Roma Romanian population in response to some Roma children being taken into care by police and Leeds Social Services for Safeguarding reasons. The riot was large scale, dramatic and involved burned out vehicles, damaged buildings and assaults on the police who at one stage vacated the Hatfield streets altogether. This situation got the right wing media outlets (GB News, Talk TV, the Telegraph and the Mail) into a lather along with malign YouTubers like conspiracy theorist and Muslim-hater Charlie Veitch, who arrived in Hatfield to proclaim the site of a burned-out bus was a result of an “Islamist insurgency”. There are legitimate concerns about how the Roma community behaved in Leeds, but whatever the Hatfield riot was, it was neither Islamist nor an insurgency: it was a reaction to what was perceived as a kidnapping of children by the British state, by a group that is over 95% Christian. The riot had literally nothing to do with Muslims or Islamism. But such facts do not get in the way of the false reporting by the right wing media or the “patriotic” Tik-Tokkers and YouTubers that now proliferate.

And so the scene was set for the explosion of far right rage that followed the terrible murders of three young girls attending a Taylor Swift dance class in Southport by a 17 year old young man of Rwandan descent, born in Cardiff and a Southport resident. In the time it took for these crucial details about the identity of the murderer to be revealed, the far right had developed an entirely invented narrative of its own: the murderer was an immigrant, worse than that he was an illegal who arrived in a “small boat”; the murderer was a Muslim called Ali Al-Shakati and an Islamist terrorist to boot. The lines between all three incidents were connected to present a situation of migrants and Muslims, aided by their leftist allies, fighting murderously and violently against British values and British citizens. The fact that none of this was true (the alleged murderer, Axel Muganwa Rudakubana, is likely also to have a Christian background) was irrelevant to the EDL successor groups. In no time Southport, Westminster, Hartlepool, Leeds, Nottingham, Sunderland and many other towns and cities became scenes of riot, intimidation, destruction and the violent targeting of mosques. The would-be Ernst Rohm figure of Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, absurdly known to his fans as “Tommy Robinson”, swaggered through the streets of London, mouthing anti-Islam banalities, until his arrest under the Terrorism Act, but clearly not in charge of anything very much, and even less so since his flight from the U.K. to avoid his court appearance. The far right cells who are organising the disorder are organic in nature, their actual leaders unknown. Their ideology is unclear, but they are given cover by the cynics of GB News (with particular reference to the atrocious Mike Graham and Isabel Oakeshot) who openly describe the criminal activity as somehow a legitimate expression of patriotic opinion by an English population pushed too far. The groups are however also given legitimacy by the ultimate provocateur, Nigel Farage MP, sitting like a Prussian aristocrat in 1930s Germany speculating on whether the government or the police are being entirely honest about the Southport murders, while the modern equivalents of the Brownshirts run riot in British towns. This is the real danger of the swirling toxicity of the current unrest. The middle-aged flag-waving male thugs are easily dismissed as criminals, conspiracy-believing oddballs and yobboes, but their enablers in the right wing media, Reform and the Tory right, provide a level of encouragement, justification and even ideological ballast to what currently remains a street movement but, under more serious leadership than that of Yaxley-Lennon, could morph into something far more sinister.

So what is to be done?

Keir Starmer for the second time in a month, struck precisely the right tone and spoke for the decent majority of this country when he described the rioting as driven by “far right hatred” and announced an intention to protect Muslim citizens from harm and to pool police, security and anti-terrorism resources to combat the extremists on the street, but also to break up its cellular structure. This hard action must be taken. The issue of a Section 34 Dispersal Notice in Greater Manchester which blunted far right action this weekend, is a start. History tells us that the far right do not go away and a level of force is what works to disrupt them - but administered by the police and judiciary, not by left wing groups and their “smash the fascists” placards, who usually prove themselves incapable, in reality, of “smashing” anything very much.

Probably more importantly, is the need for the government and Ofcom to pay far more attention to the toxic falsehoods sprayed indiscriminately by the likes of GB News and Talk TV, and to insist misinformation posing as news is banned and political opinion is confined to explicit opinion slots. Influence over the Wild West of social media is more difficult but the faux-legitimacy of the right wing TV outlets is dangerous while our streets burn, so their lying output must be controlled. Parliament must also exercise control over maverick MPs. In the aftermath of Southport, Farage chose not to attend the House of Commons and represent his constituents but instead decided to post a video slot encouraging conspiracy theorists and rioters. It is high time that the indulgence of Farage’s hail-fellow-well-met persona ends and if an MP can be seen to be implicitly endorsing criminal activity, he or she should be hauled before the Privileges Committee, or even prosecuted.

My final recommendation is hard to make. I believe we have reached the limits of identity politics and multi-culturalism. We talk casually of the “Muslim community” in this country when in reality, there is no such thing. The self-identification of population groups who once described themselves as Asian or South Asian as “Muslim”, prioritising religious identity above all others, together with the “Arabisation” of Islamic observant clothing and Qu’ranic interpretation thanks to the influence of Saudi-funded preachers and madrassas, makes the Bengali, Pakistani, Afghan and Indian heritage population visibly different and just the sort of potential scapegoat for societal woes that fascism thrives on. Together with assertive Muslim activism, this level of identity politics gives credence to the othering narrative of the far right. As a democrat, this is difficult to write. Why shouldn’t people be able to wear what they want, worship as they wish, believe what they believe? But in an increasingly divided society, I believe the priority for identity groups should be to accentuate the common social concerns they share with all other communities and to seek far more enthusiastically to integrate with the majority population while maintaining their beliefs. Such a shift after at least twenty years of embedded identitarianism will be difficult and it may never happen, but I maintain that social solidarity is a crucial factor in the long term defeat of fascism and racism.

It may be that these riots will fizzle out as the weather cools, but the current moment feels it might be leading somewhere very dark. An organised street fighting movement, aided by a toxic right wing TV media and encouraged by a far right Parliamentary presence carries too many historical echoes for comfort. All eyes are now on Starmer and Yvette Cooper to control the symptoms of street disorder, but by far the greatest priority is for the Labour government to create a fair economic settlement for all British communities and thus consign the paranoid and violent fantasies of the far right into the dustbin of history, once and for all.

3rd August 2024

[christophoronomicon]

So, about Legend of Zelda Tears of the Kingdom...

OK, so I've got more thoughts about Tears of the Kingdom, and since I cannot actually play the game yet I might as well inflict them on you all. I promise it's not my fault, it's in the contract and all... Anyway, actual thoughts after the break, although as I stated last time, I have managed to avoid all spoilers and leaks, everything I know and surmise comes from Nintendo's own published materials (mostly the trailers on YouTube) and the videos of those lucky ones they let play TotK for a bit last week. You could say there are some light Breath of the Wild spoilers in there as well, but since TotK is a direct sequel and continuation of the BotW story, that's pretty much unavoidable. Anyway, you've been warned!

So, I must say I'm impressed with Nintendo's marketing machine this time around. I mean, if you discount the leaks (and as I said I have no idea what's in those leaks so I can easily discount them), we pretty much only know as much about this game as they want us to. And despite that filled to the brim final trailer of nearly a month ago, that's still very little! I mean, we got confirmation of a few things:

The return of Ganondorf;

Zelda surviving her fall (in some fashion at least);

The Zonai being involved in some way;

But those were pretty much already guessed from previous materials. We do have a better idea of the gameplay, however we still have not much clue about the story (is time travel involved, a separate dimension, the sacred realm maybe? Is the Triforce actually going to be a plot point?), which is impressive given how much material has been released in the past few weeks.

Still, among all the stuff that's been released, some of it is actually quite conspicuous by its absence, and absence that seem to imply sharing it would spoil at least some of the narrative.

I'm of course talking about the Champions' descendants! Seeing Riju and Sidon again is great of course, but why is Teba's son Tulin with them rather than Teba himself, and more importantly where is Yunobo? Now in a blink and you'll miss it moment during the final trailer when we see the New Champions run together to the left, you can actually make out the edge of a Boulder Breaker, implying there is a Goron there as well, but why is he kept out of the trailers and the promotional materials? Is it Yunobo himself, and his new appearance is such a spoiler he has to be kept hidden? Or is it a different Goron altogether?

Of course, this could be Nintendo trolling us with red herrings, but I somehow doubt they would do this to us for something that important. At least it does make you wonder what is so important about what is happening to the Gorons that it needs to be kept hush-hush that much. I guess we'll find out soon enough though.

In the meantime, for me there's really only one big, all-important, all-encompassing question that Nintendo so far has refused to answer: are we finally going to be able to pet the dogs?!

[blzzrdstryr]

Prima materia

Yandere!Kaeya & Yandere!Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount: 4156

CW: Yandere themes, mentions of violence, death and NSFW

An angel.

That’s what Kaeya thinks when he sees you - he’s far from being a religious person, yet this word appears in his mind, vivid and burning, pushing out any other thought away. He stands here, starstruck and unsure what to do, devouring your visage with his eye alone.

Your first meeting is incidental - he walks around the Mondstadt, looking for the leads for the recent mass disappearance case. An alarming number of people went missing right before the Windrise festival. All are destitute alcoholics with no real importance, all except one - Javier Lawrence, who in this case is a rich alcoholic, and a reason why investigation even started. Mondstadt may be a nation of freedom, yet money and status still dominate most of its social dynamics.

Kaeya goes to Eula first - Javier was her twice removed cousin after all, she ought to know something. The spindrift knight is restrained in her speech, careful not to insult her missing relative, despite the deepening frown. She says almost nothing new, stating that Javier had a passion for drinking and wasting his days away, she also mentions his favourite places to wander while drunk - gardens, plaza and the forest outside the city.

Visits to the first two bear no fruits - Kaeya doesn’t find any eyewitnesses, but hears tons upon the tons of complaints and insults directed at the missing, so he heads for the forest, expecting to find the mangled body among the heaps of green leaves - being drunk in the forest deep is never a good idea, yet he finds none. He stumbles upon you instead.

You sit among the wild flowers and bitter herbs, head bowed, closely inspecting the plants in your hands and humming a light tune as you do so. There’s a certain serenity about you, some kind of magical elegance radiating off of every movement, it’s deliberate, yet relaxed. You remind him of the forest nymph from the paintings he saw - celestial and seductive, and totally unaware of the effect you have on him.

This feeling is further exacerbated by the simple white shirt you're wearing - the material is thin and half-transparent, already revealing the outline of your torso. Kaeya gulps when he imagines it getting wet and clinging to your body, your skin and nipples showing through the flimsy fabric. The only thing that spoils this otherwise perfect sight are small dark bruises both hands, blooming like two ominous roses.

“Hello”, he finally suppresses lustful urges and steps closer, distracting you from the herb picking. “My name’s Kaeya Alberich, I am the cavalry captain of the Knight of Favonius, and I want you to answer a couple of my questions”.

You turn unnaturally still upon hearing his voice, hands squeezing the plants, even your breathing is impossible to hear. You are terrified. Kaeya turns his head to the side at this picture, eyebrows raised - this is… a very interesting reaction.

“I am sorry, I am not allowed to talk to strangers”, you say, finally collecting yourself and raising your head to meet his eye, and Kaeya finds himself struck again.

Stars.

You have star-shaped pupils. Just like him.

He makes a step again, back this time, as his chest starts to rise and fall faster, breathing accelerating. Why do you have these eyes? He thought he was the only one left…

“Sir Kaeya, what brings you here?”he hears a familiar voice. Albedo comes from the forest deep, quickly striding to him and then stopping between you and the cavalry captain. Alchemist's face remains indifferent and his tone impassive, yet through the haze of confusion and shock Kaeya still notes how he protectively put himself between you two, as if shielding you from his gaze.

“Investigation. I thought asking… this lovely person a couple of questions might help solve the case”, he flashes one of his most charming smiles to Albedo, who predictably remains apathetic towards such displays. You, on the other hand, still sit on the forest ground and have your eyes shifting between Kaeya and Albedo, with fear and hope respectively.

“I am afraid you won’t find any answers here. They are under my care, and they don’t know anything about whatever your case is”. Albedo’s voice still remains polite, but Kaeya can taste the hidden hostility, he almost backs off from surprise.

“Well, that’s unfortunate”, he admits defeat and puts on a smile again - it’s a colder one this time, less genuine - and turns on his heels, throwing “have a nice day” as the afterthought, insides burning with the strange mix of disappointment and resentment.

He almost leaves the forest, as he hears Albedo talking to you: “It’s alright, [First], I won't punish you for speaking to him, he asked you first”. You reply something, but Kaeya is too far to make out any of your lovely voice, yet the things he witnessed today are enough to spawn a horde of questions.

Why does Albedo act so possessive? Why do you allow him to do so? What connects you two together? And most importantly: Who are you?

Thousand different theories fleet through his mind, as he mulls over new information. He doesn’t come back to that place, despite his curiosity nagging him to do so, he can’t - Kaeya is now acutely aware of the power Albedo seems to hold over you and returning might anger the alchemist.

Cavalry captain returns to the case of missing people, yet his mind continues to wander off, thought returning to your face and voice and body and the colossal mystery cloaking you.

***

Investigation progresses unbelievably slowly - if he was a gullible person, Kaeya would’ve thought that all of the missing just vanished into thin air - no leads, no traces, not a single clue of what might have happened, leaving the knights with nothing but straws to grasp at. To add to the severity of the situation after a week of receiving the case from Jean, Kaeya is notified about the new disappearance of two other people - Joachim and Luckas. They’re also a pair of alcoholics, the first one was last seen around the Angel’s Share, the second one was heading for the Dragonspine.

Kaeya goes to the said tavern - at first he just talks with the patrons, effortlessly fishing out the information about the missing person, which brings nothing new (again), then he gets a bit bored with drunk-interrogating others and decides to ask Diluc what he might’ve seen. And that also reveals nothing new (again) - Joachim has visited the tavern, ordered some wine and after a couple of bottles downed, left. Nothing extraordinary or groundbreaking, just a day of another Mondstadtian drunkard.

It seems that he isn’t destined to find whatever spirited Joachim away, so Kaeya leaves the city heading for the snowy mountain in the distance. He asks around the adventurers camp near the ruined tower, only to hear that Luckas was seen around the mountain.

Kaeya walks to the Dragonspine, already feeling the chill at the foot of the mountain, and his determination slowly melts - Dragonspine is one big freezing hellhole, full of monsters and Fatuis who for some reason decided to reside here, yet one particular face appears in his mind. Seeing you again might be worth the whole trouble - he noticed you a couple of times, always in the company of the certain alchemist, so if Albedo is in his camp, then you’re most likely there too.

Now inspired Kaeya quickly traverses the mountain, skillfully avoiding the hilichurl tribes and skirmishes altogether. After a short, yet frankly gruelling travel he finds himself finally arriving at the camp, your figure seen from the entrance. You sit near the alchemical device, tightly bundled up in layers upon layers of warm clothes, a book in your hands with no Albedo in sight. The alchemical apparatus is on, dyeing the whole room into scarlet shades, something red boiling inside of it, filling the air with the strange metallic scent. “Recent history of Teyvat”, Kaeya reads the cover and takes a step in. You remain still, too engrossed in reading to hear his footsteps, which he uses to take another good look at you.

Your face still looks lovely as it was on that day, yet there’s now a strong aura of frailness present - a greyish undertone of the skin, dry, chapped lips, pinkish-red rims blooming on your eyes, duller hair, even the fingers holding the books appear to be thinner. You look emaciated and exhausted, you must be sick.

“Hello”, Kaeya decides to pop the bubble of tranquility again - you quickly lift your head to look at him and almost drop the book: “We met before, in the forest, remember? I am here because of an investigation”.

“I am sorry, but I don’t think I can be of any help and I am still not allowed to talk to strangers”, you say and return to reading, pretending that he isn’t here.

“Well, that means we can introduce ourselves, so we won’t be strangers anymore and you will be able to talk to me without breaking any rules, right? Hello! I am Kaeya Alberich and I work as cavalry captain in the Knights of Favonius, pleased to meet you!”, he puts on his warmest smile and outstretches his hand to shake yours.

“I am not sure that this is a good idea, Albedo warned me to avoid outsiders”, you say, looking uneasy, as you throw a quick glance, past Kaeya, to the entrance of the camp.

“Albedo and I are coworkers, we both even had to work on some missions together, sure he doesn’t think of me as some outsider”.

“If you say so”, you sigh and cave in, your palm finally touching his. Kaeya feels the corners of his lips creeping up at the sensation, his heart skipping a beat or two: “I am [First} and I am… Albedo’s ward, pleased to meet you too”

“Now with introductions done, can I ask you a question?”, he takes another step and you nod - a step more and he might feel the warmth radiating off of your body, or hear your faint breathing, or smell your scent.

“Where are you from?”, your eyes widen at that. Kaeya finds himself almost hypnotized by this sight: the stars in your eyes shine with a renewed strength, the pale sunlight bringing out their warmth and radiance.

“I don’t really remember”, you admit, voice quiet and small: “Albedo says he found…”

“I discovered [First] in the heart of the mountain”, alchemist ends it for you, standing at the entrance of his camp with both of his assistants by the side, hands occupied by the local flora.

“Timaeus, sort and prepare ingredients”, he hands the herbs to the man: “Sucrose, you check up on [First] and give them.. the medicine, don’t worry I’ll just talk to sir Kaeya there”, Timaeus and Sucrose rush to the assigned task, with the latter taking out a red vial from the alchemical drawer, the liquid inside shimmering and glowing with an unnatural glitter. The last part is said to you, as alchemist gestures for the cavalry captain to go outside, quickly leaving the room.

Kaeya follows him as they both leave the camp - Albedo walks unusually quickly, not looking around even once to check if he’s still behind, and only when the both of them leave the camp far enough - so far that you, Timaeus and Sucrose turn into a small dots does he stop.

“What do you need? Why did you interrogate [First]?”, Albedo says, skipping all of the courtesies. His voice remains neutral, but Kaeya can feel the displeasure - it radiates off of his pose and faster speech, how Kreideprinz’s disinterested eyes suddenly turned cold and piercing.

“Easy, easy”, Kaeya half-laughs, raising his hands in mock defence: “interrogate is a strong word here, we two just had a friendly chat”.

Teal eyes narrow at this whimsical answer and alchemist’s face sours: “Leave [First] alone”, he voices, darkly and angrily - Kaeya almost backs off from surprise - it’s quite unusual to see Albedo express his disdain so freely and openly, yet he replies in the same carefree tone:

“I won’t, not until you say where they’re from at least. [First] has star-shaped pupils, we both know what it means”.

“I already have said that - I found [First] deep underneath the mountain, completely frozen. Cold must have trapped them in the ice and preserved their body for all these years, yet it also damaged their memory. They seem to be unaware of what happened to your homeland five hundred years ago, nor do they have any idea of the present world". Kaeya intently observes Albedo as he says that - alchemist is certainly hiding something.

"That's how.. Well, I wish [First] good luck in retrieving their memories", he decides not to press further - Albedo is already in a bad mood and won't tolerate him fishing for more information, nor will the alchemist agree to share what he hides. Kaeya asks him a couple of questions pertaining to the missing person and he gets the expected answer - Luckas wasn't seen by Albedo or any of his assistants either. Alchemist says it a bit quicker than he usually talks, Kaeya chalks it up to annoyance.

***

The first useful lead appears after the third disappearance this month - Masha Haedle, who was characterized as hardworking and passionate, yet troubled by her alcohol addiction, vanished on the way to her job. Her employer sent one letter after another, demanding her to visit her workplace, lest she will be fired. Haedle didn’t answer any of the messages, nor was she spotted anywhere in the next few days.

It was her concerned neighbours who notified the knights, who quickly connected her disappearance to the series of other missing cases and Kaeya was dispatched again - he decided to start by investigating her house and he was right in doing so.

Her place is barren, but tidy, Haedle's diligence and financial issues shining through the simple interior. Kaeya strides among the neatly cleaned house until he enters a small bedroom.

Unlike the rest of the place, the bed here is undone, sheets lay messily across the nightstand and floor, with a couple of plant pots knocked over, dry soil sprawled everywhere. He comes closer to this picture, taking in the small details - there's a trace of fingernails on the wood, as if the victim was latching onto the furniture as she was dragged back, a part of the sheets is actually burnt, with a small candle crushed on the floor - it could be knocked down when kidnapper attacked Masha, and the most glaring piece - an orange dimly glowing crystal.

It crumbles and disintegrates the same second Kaeya picks it up, but this short moment is enough to feel the warmth radiating off of it - it's a geo crystal, formed by the reaction with pyro.

Whoever attacked miss Haedle was using a geo vision to put out the fire, and might also be the reason of other disappearances. After all, a vision user kidnapping the drunkards is just as nonsensical as said drunks just vanishing into thin air, leaving nothing behind.

***

Mondstadt embraces the Windrise festival with the same warmth it always did, as citizens of all sorts start to prepare for the coming festivities. Some decorate their houses with dried and paper flowers that they consider anemones, others stock up on both sweets and wine, no doubt for a celebratory dinner, bards recite the new songs, praising the anemo archon and caroling the freedom that Barbatos gave them, and knights, both high and low ranks alike are piled with even more work.

Kaeya finds himself temporarily dispatched from the dead-end investigation, tasked to look out for any suspicious persons and possible lawbreakers, as a horde of tourists and traders flooded the city. He spends the entire day working, and catches a breather once the sun starts to set. This break, however, is swiftly interrupted, when Jean summons him, asking to deliver some messages to Albedo for the lack of workforce.

Unsurprisingly, the alchemist spends his time outside of the city in a temporary camp, preferring the fresh air and forest landscape to the human loudness and cheer. He finds you alone again, with Albedo nowhere to be seen. Seems that whatever disease has plagued you started to back off - your tone is still far from healthy, yet it stopped being so ashy and grey like the first time, and your starry eyes no longer look like you’ve cried all night non-stop.

You stand near the table, slowly sorting the alchemical compounds, with both sleeves rolled up, exposing the delicate, elegant wrists and the old bruising on the forearms. The setting sun almost lights your visage on fire - you look brighter, more vivid, than you did under the pale Dragonspine sun or the cool shadow of the forest. You look like you glow too.

Even with the fatigue, he still smiles - ah, you’re so easy on the eyes, he rests just by looking at you..

“Hello”, he approaches, distracting you from your task for the third time: “is Albedo here?”.

“He left some time ago, he wanted to sketch hilichurl tribe. Said it’s too dangerous for me, so I am just standing here, waiting for him”, Kaeya can sense a mild disappointment coming from you, which is not surprising - spending your time in the wilderness, while the city before you is set ablaze in the celebration can frustrate anyone. He gets an idea.

“I see you want to see the Windrise for yourself, am I right?”, your affirmative nod, “How about I accompany you to Mondstadt and we both have some fun?”.

“I would really want to, but Albedo asked me to stay here. I don’t want to disappoint him”, you reply, the hesitation in your voice clear as day.

“And you won't!”Kaeya retorts: “I will take all the blame, say that I spirited you away with my persuasion skills”, he adds dramatically and outstretches his palm in a theatrical gesture. You giggle at that, obviously entertained by his antics.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me”, you take his hand, before asking: “this is why you came? To invite me to a festival?”

Oh, he forgot about messages.

Kaeya leaves them in the secure box you pointed to, before taking your hand again and almost running back to Monstadt. Something tells him that Albedo will be livid once he returns to the now empty camp.

***

“Oh gods”, you gasp, looking at the burst of colors exploding in the night sky - some travelers have brought fireworks from Liyue and Inazuma and decided to set them off, creating a breathtaking scenery. Kaeya even forgets how to breathe, but not because of the fireworks, but you - you look so excited and amazed, and all kinds of colours reflect from your eyes, the stars in them resembling two large diamonds. He’s ready to kill for this sight.

The next half an hour are spent with him following you, as you excitedly run from one thing or another - turns out Albedo didn’t allow you much outside time, so even the main streets of Mondstadt are novelty to you. He drinks in your reactions, all the faces and sounds you make are stored away in his memory as you get amazed by the simplest things.

In the end, he decides to take you to the Angel’s Share, you’re already so cute and he can’t imagine how much more adorable you’ll become all drunk and giggly. He orders a bottle of a young wine for you two - made from the spring dandelions, it’s taste is perfect for the atmosphere of Windrise - it tastes of freedom and adventure, the spirit of Mondstadt encapsulated into a beverage.

“It tastes nice”, you comment, taking a small sip, “it’s sweet but not too sweet”, before your face suddenly contorts from pain and you bend in half, hands clutching your abdomen.

“[First]? What’s happening, [First]?”Kaeya rushes to you, his hands stopping your fall. You mumble something incoherent, before going limp in his hold - you are unconscious. He shakes your form to wake you up, yet you don’t respond, inner panic slowly rising - what to do, what to do, what to do?

“Did you give alcohol to [First]?!”, suddenly someone hisses near him. It’s Albedo again and it’s the first time Kaeya sees him so angry. “We need to get [First] to my lab quickly. Every second counts”, Albedo helps him to lift you up and almost runs out from the tavern, pushing others away to make way for Kaeya and you in his hands.

“Put them here”, alchemist point to the big wooden table, quickly knocking over all empty flasks down, uncaring of the equipment he might break, as he rushes into the further part of the room, taking out the already on alchemical apparatus from the depths of his cabinets.

The strange red liquid slushes inside, as Albedo swiftly opens the top and adds some hideous mix of blood and pieces of flesh into the device, the reek of blood and alcohol permeating the air.

Kaeya wants to gag. “What’s this?”, he asks, not bothering to hide his disgust.

“Medicine”, Albedo quickly replies, teal eyes shifting from the mix to your sick face.

Over time the stench subsides, and apparatus starts to glow and shimmer with that scarlet radiance Kaeya saw in the Dragonspine camp, replacing the stink with the same strange coppery scent. Albedo takes out a glass vial from his pocket and connects it to the faucet of the apparatus, collecting the fat drops of the produced liquid.

Kaeya takes a good look at the product, mesmerized by the strange glitter and shimmer - it looks alive, and then suddenly everything clicks - the origin of medicine, the smell of alcohol coming from meat and even the disappearances of the drunkards. He remembers the tales his father used to tell him, about khemia and the wonders and horrors it could unleash - artificial humans, endless gold and…

“Philosopher’s stone”, he breathes out, utterly shocked by his revelation.

“How? How did you know”, Albedo looks at him with scared eyes, almost dropping the vial with “medicine”.

“Why?! Why did you do that?!”Kaeya yells instead of answering the question, still shocked and horrified, a taste of bile appearing on his tongue.

Alchemist seems unsure and totally lost for a good minute, as his usually calm face rapidly shifts between different emotions: sadness, shock, horror, shame and even anger, until finally resulting into the expression of total defeat: “It’s for [First]’s sake”, he tiredly admits the dark secret: “The frost has severely damaged their internal organs. I’ve been trying to heal them, but to no avail”.

“So you decided to break alchemical laws and create the elixir of life”, Kaeya grimly concludes, face scrunching up from disgust.

“Yes”, an unsettling lips makes its way onto the alchemist's lips as he lifts his head and looks captain right in the eye: “I’ve broken the laws, killed people and used their bodies. All to save [First]. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same, I’ve seen how you stare at [First] and I know what you want to do with them”.

.Was he that obvious?

“I see���, Kaeya replies, sensing the growing headache and rubbing his temples: “I won’t tell others of what you’ve done”. He can’t just imprison Albedo and doom you to a slow, agonizing death.

“I knew you would agree with me”, alchemist sighs “[First] is getting healthier, they won’t need… medicine as often, yet their organs will never be in a top condition”.

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many people per year?”

Albedo turns quiet again, the creepy smile vanishing as quickly as it appeared, as his eyes adopt that contemplating look again.

“No more than three people. Once I fix that liver damage you gave [First] with your wine, they won’t need no more than three transfusions”, he says his verdict and Kaeya weighs his words - three missing people per year is a miniscule number.

“I make at most philosopher’s stones per year and you cover my tracks in exchange for time with [First]. Deal?”, Albedo extends his hand for a handshake and Kaeya takes it, yet doesn’t shake it, asking instead:

“Can I get to taste [First]?”, he smiles, remembering your face and imagining your body.

“If [First] consents to that, then yes”, Albedo becomes that inexpressive again, yet he can still feel the displeasure and indignation coming from alchemist’s answer.

“I am sure they will, I think they like me”, he finally shakes the other’s arm.

They sit in a silence for a while, before the vial gets completely filled by the “medicine” - Albedo takes out a syringe and injects the mixture into your bloodstream through the veins on the hands. Kaeya smiles even wider, looking how a healthy colour returns to your face - he can’t wait to reap the fruits of this agreement.

[descentivity]

Depression, Trauma, (and Most Importantly,) My Thoughts on Hello Charlotte EP1 & 2

Eating has been difficult for me for as long as I remember. It started off as an aversion to food, in favour of spending my time more efficiently on what my dumb little mind viewed as more important: Homework, video games.

Over time, it turned into anorexia. I had already gotten used to eating just under 500 calories a day, and my depression took my poor habits and twisted them into a cowardly and slow attempt at suicide.

On my road to recovery, I’ve found that years of poor eating choices have lead to my body struggling to process food. I have to eat at a painstakingly slow pace lest my stomach turns against me, and the smell of food is sometimes enough to diminish my appetite altogether. My bowel movements are, for lack of a better word, a shitshow.

This brings me to today, the 10th of August, 2021. 6 or so years of barely eating enough to survive later, I’m setting the world record for the slowest consumption of a fillet o’ fish in the history of mankind. 

In my absolute boredom and unfathomable stomach pain, ManlyBadassHero’s playthrough of some random horror game (I can’t remember the name) appears in my YouTube recommended, and I’m reminded of a horror game I bought on sale on Steam, the last of a trilogy. In all honesty, I only bought the game because it was dirt cheap and one of my sisters’ names is Charlotte. I was too horrified at the time to process the story nor play the previous two games, so I did a quick achievement run and left it at that. I was certainly very confused as I had no idea who any of the characters or what any of the concepts were, but the gore had me too mortified to go and find out myself. 

A year later, I’m looking the trilogy up on ManlyBadassHero’s YouTube channel, and decide to start from the beginning of his Hello Charlotte journey, in 2016.

Hello Charlotte EP1

I’m going to be completely honest with you, the first game really didn’t resonate with me too well. It was a cute, quirky, RPG Maker horror game, with two loveable main characters and an interesting world. However, with context from the third game, the events felt too self-isolated and inconsequential. Felix and Charlotte are in a little self-contained TV world created by a fictional race called Pythia - creatures with 3 or 4 eyes that can create miniature dimensions, once brought into a hivemind by an “Oracle,” which seems to be some sort of god. They all seem to be falling apart and have taken a horrific turn as most of the Pythia have been “executed,” and those who haven’t have either gone mad or into hiding in their own bubbles of (albeit temporary) safety.

The ending of the game is somewhat misleading, too. Once Charlotte and Felix escape the TV world by having Charlotte merge with the Oracle itself, the game almost plays off the previous events like they were all a story made up by a young and imaginative Charlotte. Did they happen at all? Is she a reliable narrator or point of view to begin with? (Spoiler alert, she is not.) The explanation for it all seems to be that Charlotte herself is a schizophrenic, though the legitimacy of this is brought into question in the third game, which I will talk about later. Altogether, the game didn’t bring out many strong emotions in me, and I was starting to zone out as I moved on to the second game’s playthrough.

Hello Charlotte EP2

What struck me as odd in the second game is that while the first game seemed to bring Charlotte out of her own strange, black-and-white world and back into reality, we’ve found out that she’s right back where we started last game. A black-and-white world, inhabited by her imaginary friends. Aliens, gods, and the like. However, Charlotte’s seemingly made-up world feels more alive this time. I’m not sure if this is the consequence of the game developer improving their skills or an intentional detail, but even more characters are introduced, and previously shallow tenants of Charlotte’s home are given more depth. The hazmat-suit wearing aliens have faces, personalities and whole backstories attached to them, now. Charlotte has a best friend at school named Anri, who has a obsessive crush on her. She’s friends with a bullying victim named C with horrible germaphobia, who has almost identical struggles to her (more on those struggles later.)

What also surprised me is the continuity between the first and second game. For some reason, I thought that this Charlotte would be starting from scratch, completely oblivious to the fate of the first game’s iteration. However, this concept only seems to be used in the third game, so I guess I was simply mislead. This game, in fact, takes place 3 years after the first, and the Oracle still lives on within Charlotte’s conscious. However, it’s a dying god, on its last leg. It had already been dying during the time of the last few Pythia, but it had used the last of its strength to free Felix and Charlotte from their world. As the Oracle’s health declines, so does Charlotte’s mortal body.

Unlike the first game, most of the themes in this game hit way too close to home. The feeling of second-hand helplessness when someone you barely knew ends their own life. Anri’s obsessive and outright manipulative lesbian crush on Charlotte, bordering on bullying. The schooltime harrassment and trauma Charlotte underwent. The fear and dangers of social interaction. Feeling unlawfully punished by your school teachers for seemingly nothing at all. Depression, self harm, and the primal urge to escape from it. Getting roped into others’ mental health, until both of your issues converge into a disgusting amalgamation of the need but severe lack of therapy and a break from it all. Delusions of what could’ve been and the possible, yet near impossible future ahead. Looking back on everything you’ve ever done and regretting every second of it.

While I ticked off the trauma presented to me on a silver platter in the form of a fucking RPG Maker game like a twisted bucket list, I found myself relating more and more to not only Charlotte, but the students around her. Scarlett, whose life was so perfect that nobody had even thought about her possible mental issues until it was far too late. Anri, who would lay down her life for a girl who simply doesn’t feel the same way. C, who desperately wanted to escape from reality by any means possible.

An interesting fact about Hello Charlotte is that there are numerous omnipotent beings amongst its cast. They aren’t shy about providing very in-depth character analysis to Charlotte, and in turn, to the puppeteer (I suppose now is a good time to inform those who are unfamiliar with the series that the puppeteer refers to a species, character, and the player, all at once. Charlotte has a puppeteer controlling her by the name of Seth. You are/are controlling Seth as the player. Capiche? Capiche.)

What this meant for me watching Manly’s playthrough was the feeling of two gods (in this game, at least) peering right into my soul, analysing characters that reflected my exact experiences and even my personality during my school days. I learned and realised things about myself that I simply hadn’t known before. Just like Charlotte, I’m simply looking for direction in life, and I’m too afraid to act without instructions. I found myself bullied, manipulated and abandoned by someone who simply wanted my affections, and only learned to miss them when they were gone. Like Anri, my desperation for love and approval from an individual in turn lead to anger and resentment for them. Like both Charlotte and C, I eventually turned to hurting myself to make all the pain go away, refusing help from others and developing a shell of false optimism and naivety to forget about the damage I had dealt to my body, personality and relationships.

As much as I hate to admit it on my little obscure Tumblr blog with 0 followers and 0 traction, I still struggle with these things. I have no direction in life, and wander aimlessly, hoping for one of my offshot attempts at content creation to take off. I find myself missing the girl who emotionally abused me to hell and back every day. I resent another girl for never feeling the same way I felt about her. I still don’t take care of myself, and spend every day in a state of denial about my physical decline and sickliness. I’m so incompetent emotionally that I spend days ignoring my own boyfriend, starving him of the proper relationship that he deserves all because of how broken, fragmented and distant my own mind is.

Hello Charlotte EP2 has four endings. All four of them, in my eyes, are bad.

In the first, C and Charlotte overdose together, leaving their mortal realm to become gods. They choose to ignore and forget the pains of their mortal lives, and live the rest of their godly lives in ignorant bliss. Do I want to forget about my depression and trauma? Learn nothing, and forget about everything that made me who I am today? Or worse even, do I dare take the plunge into “godhood,” and leave this mortal plane to end my suffering altogether?

In the second, Charlotte discovers that C isn’t who she thinks he is, and she finds him without a soul. Alive, but empty. Charlotte could not save him. Consumed by grief, she ascends and becomes a god, consuming the entire world around her. After all is said and done, she realizes her mistake. All of her friends are gone, C is still empty and unresponsive, and now she is alone. Sometimes, I feel as though I’ve already gone through this ending, many times over. Countless times I’ve let my depression become all-consuming and take over my life. I’ve pushed so many people away and hurt so many more, and for what? I have nothing to gain from every fit of depression, and the consequences make it seem nothing more but a selfish attempt to make myself feel better.

In the third, Charlotte is the only one who dies. In her last moments, the Oracle comforts her, like a mother cradling her child. They embrace, and say goodbye to each other, as Charlotte’s own life was the only thing keeping the dying god alive. At this point, I’ve started to draw parallels between the Oracle and depression. Depression isn’t always a horrible thing that beats you down and keeps you from being truly happy. Sometimes, wallowing in my own sadness and depression would be the only thing that keeps you sane, stable, and calm. The feeling of hopelessness really is bittersweet, and in desperate times, goes hand-in-hand with acceptance of one’s circumstance. Oftentimes, I find that this is the most realistic way I’ll go out. One day, I may just accept depression, and succomb to it. There may not be a struggle at all. Rather, a quiet, submissive hum, which will fade away into silence.

In the fourth and final ending, Charlotte and C die alongside each other. After her death, Charlotte confronts the Oracle, and wishes to save everyone, and for everyone to be unhappy. Of course, this is where the classic saying: “Be careful what you wish for” comes in. Because of her wish, everyone’s soul, what makes them individual and unique, is erased. After all, no one can suffer if they cannot think at all. In some ways, emptiness is pure bliss. This once again goes back to the bittersweetness of depression. The sheer emptiness it may bring on, at times, is bliss. Feeling nothing isn’t always a bad thing. It’s a way to cope with the horrors of the world. To remember nothing at all is such a tempting yet unattainable solution that I can’t say I haven’t longed for in the near or distant past. Charlotte, of course, is distraught that her friends are all gone, their identities and souls lost forever. Following this, she has one request to make of another god, the observer. She wishes to be killed, as all of her actions have lead to nothing but pain for others and herself. The observer, however, refuses this offer. Instead, he comforts her and takes her hand. They go on a journey together. He suggests that one day, she’ll learn to control her power, and she can recreate the world and her friends. As they leave, Charlotte reflects on her hopes and dreams for the journey. She hopes to learn to be kind, and not hurt others. She wants to change her ways, and become an honest, good person. Charlotte, slowly but surely, is on the road to recovery.

Putting the unsettling sequel to this game aside, maybe I could learn a little bit from Charlotte.

[ranmanjuu]

titled “shin shin”.txt

came across a post... a long, long while ago about a god of death type reader and got super interested, since of all the cyikemen games, ikesen is the one most surrounded by death on a larger scale (cause, war and stuff), so i wrote this at... 2020? almost one year before, at 21th of july. i had more of it written, but i really didn’t like it cause it felt too “quirky wattpad reader” and plus me just copying from the original prlogue without adding anything, so... yeah. enjoy!

(also, very important that anyone who wants to do whatever with this idea, feel free, no need to ask me)

You didn’t like your existence

To call it “your life” would be simply wrong; you don’t breathe, you don’t eat, you don’t sleep. All you are is a walking, talking existence that has a job to do until you fade away. You didn’t even like your job.

To lead a soul from their death to the Land of the Dead was a grim job. You learnt their regrets, their anger, their sadness, all which you knew was personal. But you had to be there. You had to ensure that their soul is at peace, so when the time comes to cross to the afterlife, they don’t get reincarnated as a ghost, stuck forever with their past emotions.

Shinigami, was your kinds’ name. God of Death.

You were a part of the blanket term ‘yokai’, or as some would call in other names such as ‘ayakashi’. Those who fall under the category were spirits, demons, animal-like creatures, or, similar to you, gods. For as long as you’ve known, supernatural creatures didn’t mesh with humans well most of the time.

Fear of unknown from both parties led to anger, rashness, and cut communication and involvement altogether for perhaps half your life.

You’ve existed for long; you stopped remembering the exact number after 1.000 years. All you did now was remember the year you came to the world, and do the math. But that doesn’t matter much, does it? The only thing you concerned yourself with is when you’ll fade away.

However, for your own sake, you do take a break. Such a job is heavy for the heart, and a walk doesn’t help as much, but it’s a nice thing nonetheless.

Kyoto. You were just done leading a soul that got caught in a traffic accident. You never traveled outside of the country, but would it really matter if you did? You still appreciated everything as it were; there has to be some light in a life to look forward to.

This particular city was rich in human history, you knew that. Maybe it’d be a fun thing to do, even if you didn’t have much an interest in it.

“All your famous warlord knowledge, packed in a mag! Come get one now!” A boy’s shouts filled the nearby streets, attracting attention from the occasional passerby’s. Including you. A Quick Guide To Your Warlords, the magazine read on the cover. Sounds interesting, and you were bored, so you took one and stuffed it in your pocket.

With a blank mind, you were brought forth to a temple by your wandering legs. Honno-ji. A small, quiet, quaint place. The setting sky burned up above as the small cries of the crickets sounded all around.

You’ve heard some stories of the small memorial in front of you. One of the unifiers of Japan died here—betrayed, as you remembered. But you can’t draw an exact name.

While drowning in your thoughts, the approaching presence coming to you was acknowledged but not paid mind to further. Until you shift your eyes to the side as said figure was in your peripheral vision—a man dressed in a lab coat. The two of you said no words, only continuing to gaze at the stone in front of you.

You only started to react when the sky above you turned darker and darker—not by the setting sun, but by the awfully black and almost purple clouds gathering up above you. That’s unusual, you’ve never seen anything like that in your life.

The once bright and bold sky now rained down drops of water on your face. You didn’t even notice you shifted to your human form—and a look at your hands covered in specks of droplets confirmed that.

“What poor timing.” The man next to you said, causing your eyes to glance at him. He looked solemnly to the monument, then to you, “Are you alright? Do you have an umbrella?”

“No, unfortunately. I didn’t expect it to rain. . .” your eyes linger to above his head, where a set of numbers and a small text was visible to you only. The death profile, as the others call. A set of information that shinigamis can see in most creatures, usually entailing their names, time of death, and cause of it.

It’s a cursing bit of information; always reminding you of what you are.

Out of nowhere, a thunder ripped through the clouds and hit directly on the small monument—a loud crackle following along. Your arm flew up to protect the man next to you by reflex, as your body stood there in momentary shock. You’ve seen death by  lightning, but that was unlikely to happen now.

You whipped your head towards the human next to you, who seems the slightest bit appalled, but stood his ground. A strange thing catches your attention. . .

His death date. It’s flickering—changing.

From a century where he was supposed to die. . .to the 15-16th century.

A date of death changing has been a rare thing that happens, however unlikely, but—it’s never jumped that far before! To the past, too?

Utter shock froze you in place as the numbers flicker back and forth, leading your attention away from everything else—him asking you if you were okay, and most importantly—

—the black ball that formed where the stone was.

“Watch ou—“ before you can warn the man, the image of him next to you twisted and distorted, slowly getting sucked in whatever it was.

And so were you.

Wait! He isn’t supposed to die yet—!

The world faded to black.

       Ugh. . .my head. . .

Your vision fades in and out, clear then blurry, until you’re finally wide awake. The scenery around you changed drastically, what was first a small place in the city of Kyoto is now. . .a dark forest. You’ve seen this kind of environment before in your memories—you just don’t know how you got here.

The lab coat guy—!

You immediately stood up from the dirt beneath you, looking around and trying to sense his soul around you. Nothing. Pursing your lips in slight unease, you started making your way through the criminally underlighted woods.

You’ve roamed around in the forest before. Most of your time on this world, you didn’t settle in a house or anything, you preferred to just wander around like a lost ghost. You didn’t have a need for one—you don’t need shelter, not food, not clothes, nor drinks. You were a lost ghost.

The branches and rocks and whatever else you tripped on didn’t bother you. All you were focusing on is now just. . .walking. Without even a set destination. The only guidance you had was the occasional moonlight that peeked through the trees up above.

As minutes pass by, you start feeling a faint presence of human souls.

It’s distant, and not much from how weak it is, but I should go and see.

All other senses were rendered useless for now as you focused on the source of the souls, and slowly marched your way to it. It grew closer and closer, until you saw a faint light coming in the middle of the forest.

Two people, you now concluded. Your footsteps remained silent and your presence unknown as you creep near the light.

A fire was set in a small clearing, and you can now see the two people. A man with dark hair, dressed in monk’s clothes and a scar marking his face, with another feminime-looking boy, purple-haired in armor.

“Are you ready for this, Ranmaru?” The monk spoke in a low voice. “You’re about to kill the demon. Bring him down for good.”

Kill, huh. An assassination was about to commence.

“. . .Yes, Master Kennyo.” The boy—Ranmaru—spoke, wavering in unease but still tried to be certain.

‘Master Kennyo’ smiled; a bitter, unresting one, “Good. They’ve light the fire at Honno-ji, arrive there and kill him. I will follow shortly once the fire has spread,”

“. . .Understood.”

Clutching his sword until it shook in his hand, Ranmaru turned around and walked off from the clearing.

You overheard the conversation and calmly watched his figure fade away. It isn’t your place to intervene—not if this is fate, but even so—you’ll follow him. At least you can rest the soul of the victim.

In silent steps trailing him, you heard a last piece from Kennyo. “Finally, we’ll have our revenge. . .”

      You took your time in following Ranmaru’s path. If whoever’s assassinated dies, it’s soul will still remain until they can go to the afterlife. Time stops for them as long as it takes to get their soul guided away from the living land. Is it immoral in a way? Perhaps.

Unless. . .you can stop them from getting killed. But often when you try to intervene, the death happens either way.

So what’s the point?

Nihilistic thoughts aside, you sensed more human souls coming your way; five, from what you can tell. But you paid no mind to that. Until it got nearer, and nearer, and nearer, and—

“Oof.” In your blank stated mind, you bumped into someone, causing them to huff in surprise. You yourself paused and looked—a brown haired man wearing red armor, “Hey, watch where you’re going—!”

His complaints died on his tongue as soon as he finally saw who he bumped into. His expression, from a slightly irritated frown, turned more into one of confusion, “Huh? Hey, what’s someone like you doing here in the woods? Nighttime, also? Such weird clothing, too. . .”

His spoken words made you raise an eyebrow, “Ignoring all that, I’m sorry for bumping into you. I just had some business is all.”

“In the dead of night? What are you, an. . .enchantress? Those stories of w-witches in the forest?” The man’s voice wavered more with each passing word. The quirk in your eyebrow deepens.

“I assure you, I’m not—“

“Yuki~! We leave you for a few seconds and you’ve already found yourself a partner?” A velvet and rich voice arose from behind the dark bushes and trees, all of them being pushed aside to reveal an auburn haired man, this one more built in his body.

The one you’ve been talking to—Yuki—blushed and shook his head vehemently, “Ugh, no! I’m not like you; we just bumped into each other is all. And I think it’s some kind of witch, too—”

The redhead man tutted at Yuki in a disapproving manner, “Now, now, Yuki. Have I not taught you how to talk properly in front of such a beauty all this time?” His attention turns to you, and in a second, his eyes lit in passion, “Forgive me for his prudeness, my goddess, dear Yuki needs a lot more lessons than I thought. However. . .if you want to be with a real man, I’m always up for service.”

“Will you stop flirting with everything you meet. It’s disgusting.”

Three more people emerge from the shadows, the small bits of moonlight pouring to their features. The one who spoke was a blond one, cladded in blue armor and with eyes that said he wanted to have nothing to do with any of this.

“But Kenshin, you can’t just turn away at such a beauty laid in front of your eyes.” The flirt replied to the cold comment with a smirk.

“Stop. Or I’ll kill you.”

The bickering of the two were left unnoticed as another man with dark blue hair stepped up, far closer than what you were expecting. His hand reaches and caresses lightly on your clothes, “I have never seen such a design or material like this before. How fascinating. Would you like to switch with one of my kimonos?”

“Yoshimoto, I’ve already claimed them! Don’t steal them right under my nose.” Flirt Man threw a light complaint, turning away from Kenshin for a moment.

“Art is to be appreciated by everyone, Shingen.” Yoshimoto simply responds, now tugging lightly at the sleeves of your shirt.

Okay, you’ll admit it. You’re slightly overwhelmed.

So far, you haven’t said anything, mainly because you don’t want to. It feels like anything you say won’t make the situation better anyway. But still. . .even in your long life, this is quite bizzare.

You observed each of them one by one. Then your eyes landed to the last one, the same brown haired man you saw earlier. Now, in. . .some sort of ninja attire. While you tilted your head in slight curiosity, you’re at least satisfied to see he was safe.

And his death date has changed, too. . .

Speaking of death, you’re finally reminded of following. . .who was it, Ranmaru? to an assassination.

Gently freeing yourself from Yoshimoto’s admiring touches to your clothes, you bowed slightly in front of them, “I appreciate meeting all of you, but I have to go.”

You don’t see Sasuke opening his mouth to say something, and neither do the others, as you walked off to the darkness.

       You thought by losing your way from your unofficial guide, you wouldn’t find the destination. But luckily, even going in the same direction as he did led you to it. Honno-ji. This time, it’s in the midst of drowning in fire. You made your way through the front door and entered where the fire wouldn’t reach you—but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

And in the middle of the room not yet entirely covered in flames, was who you assume the victim, sleeping. The cause of death, “died in an assassination while the building was set on fire”, said as much. Dressed in black armor, you could tell he was important, somehow. Not everyone can casually wear one, despite the past few people you’ve met been donning it.

The text displayed above the man’s head displayed the same old. Nobunaga Oda.

On the other side, you see a silhouette approaching steadily, sword in hand. Ranmaru, you guessed. You double checked yourself to make sure you weren’t visible to the human’s eye, and you were just fine with watching another death as you have—

Until, for the second time today, the death date for Nobunaga Oda flickered.

You froze as what was 21st of July, 1582, blinked into a later date. Much later.

What. . .?! That was the second time today—what am I supposed to—

Your chest felt heavy, and your hands trembled in uncertainty of what you should do. Do you save him? Watch him die? Would he even die at this moment? Or would it be later? You’ve never been in this position—the answer was always clear. And now you’re terrified.

Your body swayed back and forth violently, as two sides fought in your head of what to do. But time was running out—he’d be assassinated if you didn’t take this chance. And he’d die. That’s the same as you killing him, you thought, and you’ve sworn to never do such a thing.

From your disarrayed thoughts, your legs moved on their own and walked to him. You’re saving him, then.

[graphicabyss]

I watched The Falcon And The Winter Soldier and I liked it more that I expected, although frankly I didn't expect much. Overall, I love the setting, the cinematography and the character development. The director and the writers did an excellent job. But it also sent me down an emotional roller-coaster and that's the thing I really need to talk about.

I know there are countless rants about TFATWS, Endgame, queerbaiting and poor MCU narratives but I've never really been hanging out in the fandom until recently so for me it's my first one and I need to get it off my chest. It's gonna be long.

It was interesting to see where the show's gonna take things but start to end there was an elephant in the room. It doesn't sit well with me the way they completely sidestepped the Steve Rogers issue. Like, "we didn't make this mess, so we're not gonna go there". And it's just wrong. You can't just avoid the subject altogether and pass it on for future writers to handle. Also, you see Bucky so sad and lonely it breaks your heart. And this inevitably made me think about Endgame and Cap's storyline. I didn't feel like writing it all down after Endgame but now all these thoughts and feelings came up again and I need to get it off my chest. If they ended it all at Endgame, and I thought they did, it would have been fine, sort of. We'd forgive some loose ends. But they didn't end it there and that makes them fully responsible for this mess. I mean, I didn't hate Cap's ending. After all, it could have been worse. Steve could get together with Sharon like in the comics and they probably considered it at some point but the reactions were so bad they backed down and dragged Peggy along. Still, the ending just felt forced, no matter how you look at it. The thing is, if I knew about it after the first movie, I'd rejoice. But at this point, after everything that went down after, it just doesn't feel right.  I love Peggy and I can't deny the dance scene made me flutter a little but now I wish this was Steve's way to keep his promise before going back. In the end, Peggy would be fine without him. She had a good life, she made a career and a family. We know that thanks to Agent Carter. And we got many cues that Steve and Peggy's relationship, as important as it was, was over. Her saying goodbye to him by destroying the serum, him carrying her casket... Yet, Endgame effectively undermined that basically erasing all of these events from existence and making Peggy just a prize for Captain America.  On the other hand, Bucky needed Steve the most. And the show made it clear how bruised and broken he was. Bucky and Steve's relationship was the closest of any relationship in the MCU. At that point it was clear Bucky was everything to him, the only one who could truly understand him. Steve lost him many times and every time he fought to bring him back, no matter how impossible it seemed. When Bucky was captured Steve went into an enemy base alone on a suicidal mission and saved him and everyone else. That's basically how he became Captain America. Then Bucky got killed in the war and it devastated him. Bucky returned as Winter Soldier and there was hardly any Bucky left in him but Steve nearly let himself be killed because he needed to save him and he trusted that James would not hurt him. When Bucky finally got to his senses, there was an ultimate war going on and in the Snap James fell to dust in front of Steve's eyes. It took 5 years to get him back. And as soon as Steve succeeded, he left him, along with the rest of his traumatized friends and the world in deep chaos, to be with Peggy in 1940's, thus throwing 12 years of his life away. It just didn't feel right. That does a disservice to both Steve and Peggy's storylines. But it's not just about Peggy or Bucky. Steve going back and living his life to return to that park as an old man has opened a rift with a host of questions. I tried to get to the bottom of it but it got me nowhere.  According to Russo, when Steve went back he created an alternate reality. He also retired as Captain America. First off, I think he just made that up after to cover up the mess. If that was the case, Cap would return to the designated spot and not be sitting on a bench like he was waiting there all along. But, like, even if it was alternate reality, it could not be that different, right? He wouldn't just live in Peggy's basement, would he? He knew about the things to come like, you know, the HYDRA thing, and being the man that he was, he couldn't just sit and do nothing. Especially when Peggy was one of the founders of the SHIELD. Captain America or not, Steve would do everything to make this world a

better place. Also, if Steve went back after he crashed that plane, that means there's another Steve still locked in ice, which Russo confirmed. Even more importantly, in Steve's timeline Bucky is still with Hydra being tortured. There's no way he could leave him there. So much for the 'quiet life'. Then there are the writers of Endgame who claim that Peggy's two children are fathered by Steve. Really? That directly contradicts the earlier version that the father is a soldier Steve saved, which is shown in Agent Carter. Seriously, guys, if you're gonna make up random bullshit at least get your stories straight first.   Fans love to make all sorts of theories to try and patch up the holes but the truth is, MCU is not just one mastermind's creation and the comics weren't either. It's bound to be a mess because it's created by dozens of writers and directors and each phase gets increasingly messier because it has to fit in with the 547 previously released movies and shows. I get that and I applaud the effort of Endgame but they really can't expect us to get involved with the characters only to see them being treated as an afterthought. And the thing is, I thought that it might be just me but after a quick survey of the fandom I realized that a lot of people feel the same way. If you look at the comment section of nearly any relevant video, you're gonna get top comments saying all these things. If Marvel listened just once maybe things would make more sense. And all these thoughts aren't necessarily what I wanted to see, but what would be right for the characters. And while I do love Stucky, I'm a reasonable shipper and I really didn't expect them to be canon gay or anything, I just wished they had at least spent some time together not fighting, just healing and catching up on their lives. Honestly, I don't always like the way people ship m/m characters in every show but this time it was really more than justified. The whole storyline going through Winter Soldier and Civil War was just massive queerbaiting. It was undeniably a love story, romantic or not. "Why do you ship male characters?" some people ask. Idk, maybe if the writers put half the effort into developing m/f relationships as they do m/m ones and not just randomly throw them together I might care about them. And MCU was terrible with romance. That traumatic kiss Steve had with Sharon Carter? In the comics, Steve did love Sharon but who cares? In MCU they met, like, twice. Mostly after Peggy's funeral. Peak romance. If they had to pick a new love interest they could go with Natasha. They cared about each other, they bonded in TWS and they were both dealing with some difficult issues. But they became just good friends, which I loved. Instead, Natasha got together with Banner? And then there's Wanda and Vision, which seemed like the most random of pairings with no buildup whatsoever. The wonderful world of heteronormativity where a witch/robot couple comes before a gay one. And the thing is, I only recently learned that there's some legit leverage to portray Bucky as gay. Bucky is based on two characters from the comics. Bucky Barnes was Steve's teen sidekick, kinda like Robin, so this origin was too weird for MCU. Instead, the writers used the origin story from a character named Arnie. It was a boy Steve grew up with, a boy who protected him from bullies, and a boy who kept inviting Steve to these double dates. A boy who was gay. Which wasn't explicitly stated but was pretty obvious. And this was in 1984. So making Bucky gay would be neither woke nor against 'canon'. It would be way overdue.  So with TFTWS it was nice to see Bucky recover and bond with Sam but to me the whole ending also felt a bit excessively positive and this time the queerbaiting felt even more intentional, almost as if the writers wanted to distract the discontent fans with a new shiny ship so they forgot all the things they were mad about. Like, of course I want Bucky to be happy but also I hate the way the show's pushing the idea that he just needs to get over losing Steve and move

on with his life already because surely all his problems come from his inability to trust people and not trying hard enough, and not from being brainwashed and tortured for 70 years and then losing the only person who loved and cherished him.

[oliviaischillin1204]

tickletober day 8- “interrogation”

yes this is a) 4 days late but more importantly it’s b) OVER 2K WORDS soooo there’s a read more akdjhfdhsjdh. also warning for slightly more intense tickles, but it’s not much of it

“Romie...” Patton cooed evilly. “You know we’ll just have to tickle-tickle-tickle you until you tell the truth, don’t you, sweetiepie?”

Roman’s face flushed, but it only went darker as he suddenly heard obnoxious snickers coming from his other side.

“Sweetiepie?” Remus asked in delight, craning his neck to smirk at Roman. “And ‘Romie’? For real?”

Once again, Roman’s face went darker. “Shut up, just shut up, you cretin.”

Remus didn’t shut up, instead choosing to cackle at his brother’s embarrassment. “That’s just the cutest thing I’ve ever hear, sweet little Romie--”

His words cut off with a gasp as Janus suddenly laid both his hands over Remus’ kneecaps.

“I do hope you didn’t forget how easy it will be for us to wreck you,” he told Remus. “Especially with the restraints keeping you all stretched out and trapped for us.”

The chaotic side bared his teeth in a wide smile, but he couldn’t hide the way he shifted his legs under Janus’ palms.

“So we’re gonna ask you again!” Patton interjected cheerfully. “We know you two have been spending oodles of time together, and thats great! But you’ve been acting mighty secretive about what you clever boys have been working on for the past few weeks...”

“Meaning we know you’re planning some sort of abhorrent prank,” Janus finished. “Confess or suffer.”

There was silence for a few moments. Patton smiled sweetly as he reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind Roman’s ear.

“Come on, honey. You can do it.”

Janus nodded, allowing his hands to rub small circles over Remus’ knees. “Unless you want to get tickled until you’re forced to tell the truth.”

Silence for a few more seconds, with only the sounds of the twins’ shaking breathing. And then--

“It was Remus’ idea!”

Remus yelled in indignantion. “It was not!”

“Yes, it was!”

“Not!”

“Was!”

“Not!”

“Was!”

“Not--”

“So you did plan something?” Janus interrupted cooly.

All of a sudden, the twins went silent again. Their eyes darted between each other, panic and excitement evident on their face.

Slowly, Janus’ lips curled into a smug grin. Patton’s own grin was nearly splitting his face.

“Oh, I just love this part!” he cheered, abruptly climbing on top of Roman and stradlding his hips. “‘Cause now we get to tickle and tickle and tickle until you ‘squeal’!”

Janus rolled his eyes at the simple wordplay, but he did shift his grip until each hand was wrapped around one of Remus’ knees, with the thumb resting on top and his other fingers curled underneath.

‘We’re going to tickle you until you tell us the truth,” he informed him seriously, ignoring the way Remus was yanking on his restraints as much as he could. “Any last words?”

Both twins paused and looked at each other.

“We’ll never reveal our secrets.”

“Eat a dick!”

Patton and Janus looked at each other.

“Alright then!” Patton said chipperly, and he leaned down to blow a raspberry against Roman’s stomach.

Roman made a noise between a gasp and a snort, jerking away as much as he could, but Patton merely smiled against his skin and repeated the action until he was in stitches.

Remus, on the other hand, was already thrown into desperate cackles, as Janus began squeezing his knees with calculated and precise movements.

“Uh oh!” Patton cooed. “Romie’s gonna get tickled, Romie’s gonna get tickled!” He giggled to himself as he began crawling his hands up Roman’s sides.

“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout...” he sang sweetly. Roman’s laughter heightened, shaking his head.

“Nohohohoho! Not that, not thahahahat!”

“Not that? What not that, cutiecakes? Is it too tickly?” Patton asked, letting his fingers scribble all over Roman’s ribcage like it was a keyboard. “Does little Romie not like the tickles? Big strong Romie, all wiggly and giggly--”

“Patton,” Janus interrupted. “We’re interrogating them, not playing a game.”

Patton laughed. “Trust me, Janus, this is exactly how to interrogate Roman. He’s just so ticklish, and he can’t even handle all the little teasy talk! Can you, sweetie?”

Roman shook his head, his cheeks as red as his sash. Janus hummed doubtfully, but turned his attention back to Remus, who was still getting the same clinical tortue to his knees.

“We both know this is you death spot,” he said plainly, as if Remus could respond over his howls. “Honestly, how long are you going to make me do this? You and I both know you’ll give up eventually, so why make it worse for youself?”

He waited, but Remus could only scream, his desperation mixing with his elation in a way that sounded nearly like he was being tortured for real. Still, Janus did nothing but sigh with boredom, his fingers relentlessly scraping alongside the soft skin of Remus’ kneepit.

“Have it your way,” he said with disinterest. “We’ll be here until you’re ready to talk, and not a moment longer.”

Janus stopped talking, instead focusing his full attention on squeezing the pressure point above Remus’ knees in that very special way he knew Remus both love and hated. 

“Is that the only spot you’re gonna tickle?” Patton asked, eyes on Janus as he expertly massaged Roman’s ribs without looking.

Janus nodded, simply saying, “It gets results.”

The two lers nodded again, before diving back into tickling their lees with reckless abandon. Patton seemed to be the master of build up; he never got Roman quite to the point of desperation, instead choosing to worsen his torture through horribly flustering teases and songs and games. Janus still showed no sign of slowing his attack on Remus’ death spot, merely interjecting every minute or so with more bored sounding threats.

At one point, Roman threw his head back, his laughter shifting into something slightly breathless. Patton slowed his tickles until he finally stopped altogether, letting his hands come to rest against Roman’s sides.

“I think this little munchkin,” he said sweetly, poking Roman’s tummy with one finger, “needs a little break. Does that sound good, sweetiepie? A little break before I start giving you more itty bitty tickle-tickles?”

Roman nodded, staring up to the ceiling with a flustered grin. Remus made an indignant sound through his own wails of laughter.

Janus gave a faux annoyed sigh. “Do you think you deserve a break?” he asked flatly, rolling his eyes as Remus nodded. “Oh, very well.”

He dropped his hands from Remus’ legs, giving him a few seconds of uninterrupted breathing. Then he suddenly shot them upwards to scratch at Remus’ hips, bringing some his laughter back.

“I don’t want you passing out just yet,” he said, “but I know exactly how much you can handle, so you’re definitely not done, Remus.”

The slight decrease in the intensity of the tickles barely seemed like a break, but Remus wasn’t bothered-- his shrieks dissolved into gasping giggles, heightened by the fact that Janus was still targeting a somewhat bad spot.

Patton quirked his head, a bemused smile rising to his face as he took in Remus’ currect state.

“Look at how cute you are!” Patton cooed, carefully reaching over Roman so he could stroke Remus’ warm cheek. “You’re so giggly, Remus!”

Remus whined, shaking his head, but any attempted malice was lost to the giggles and squeals falling from his mouth. His uncharacteristic bashfulness only made Patton ‘aww’ harder.

“I didn’t know you giggled like that!” he said with surprised joy. Finally, he fully pulled his hands away from Roman, in order to, instead, focus on spidering all around Remus’ neck and ears.

“Tickle tickle tickle,” he cooed. That brought an entirely new blush to Remus’ face, which everyone in the group noted.

Patton’s eye widened. “Oh. Oh! Hey, Janus... wanna switch?”

Janus tsked. “We did have a plan, Patton,” he reminded the moral side. He looked over to Roman, who was now fully recovered from his break and watching the two lers with fearful anticipation.

Janus’ grin grew again, and he seemed all too eager to clamber off of Remus and onto Roman. “But I suppose I’ll pick up where you left off.”

Without warning he dove in, his hands latching onto Roman’s highest ribs and drilling his thumbs in simultaneously. Roman bucked and shrieked, arching his back as he tried his damndest to get away, but there was absolutely no way he could avoid Janus’ fingers scratching into his armpits haphazardly, or his thumbs continued to torment the two little spots on either side of his ribs.

“Oh, sure, keep struggling, Roman,” Janus said conversationally. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to wiggle away eventually.”

Patton beamed as he switched spots, moving to sit on Remus’ hips instead. “Thank you, Janus! Now, Reemie...” he cooed, making Remus’ expression shift directly into a flustered panic as he wiggled his fingers. “It’s tickle time!”

He dove in again, fluttering and spidering his fingers all the way from Remus’ shoulders, to his collarbones, and finally back up to his neck, all the way cooing awful teases that the chaotic side had never been on the recieiving end of before.

“You know, Roman, judging from how high pitched your voice is going,” Janus said casually, “I’d say this is probably your very worst spot, wouldn’t you agree?” He paired the comment with a particularly accurate pinch to Roman’s uppermost rib.

Beside them, Patton gasped in delight. “Aw! Janus, you didn’t tell me Reemie makes little snorties when you get his ears!” He leaned close to murmur in Rmeus’ ear, wiggling his fingers all over Remus’ neck and collarbones as he continued, “Isn’t that just so cute?”

Both of the twins screeched with laughter. They were used to the methods used by their respective tickle monsters; having them switch left both of the creativities defenseless in the face of their new torture.

Around and around and around it went.

“You know I could literally do this all night, Roman. Right here, this one little spot, for hours and hours. Can you even imagine?”

“Does Reemie want some tickly little kisses on his ears? Huh? Does he? I think he does!”

“I mean, I’m barely even moving my fingers, and you’re just losing it. It’s honestly hilarious how little work it takes to ruin you, and I am a very patient man. I won’t stop until I get what I want.”

“Aw, you’re so tickly up here! What about your poor little ribcage? Is that a tickle spot-- ooh, yes it is! What about that pudgy tummy?”

“Oh, are you trying to wiggle away? Sure, you can do that-- until you get too tired to move, that is. Then the tickles will start to feel even more unbearable. I, personally, can’t wait for that to happen.”

“Reemie, sweetie, stop wiggling so much, squirmy wormy! I wanna take a picture of how blushy your cute little cheeks are for the family scrapbook!”

It was too much. The babying, the intensity-- the twins were losing it. As if they were thinking in unison, both gasped for as much breath as they could before shouting, “Jumpscares!”

As if it were a safeword, both Janus and Patton immediately stopped tickling. The carefully climbed off the exhausted lees, and with a snap their restraints were all gone. Roman immediately curled in on himself, panting as he tried to rub away the sensation of Janus’ hands drilling into his deathspot. Remus, however, immediately pulled his hands over his face, barely muffling the giggles that still fell from his lips.

“Jumpscares?” Patton prompted as Janus summoned two bottles of water for the twins to drink.

After chugging half of his bottle, Roman nodded with a weary smile. “We made a bunch of weird masks and we were gonna jump scare you guys for a week.”

Janus paused from opening Remus’ water bottle for him. “What? That’s what you’ve been working on for the past three weeks?”

Roman shrugged. “We spent a lot of time on those masks.”

“And we like hanging out with each other!” Remus interjected; he wasn’t drinking from the water bottle, instead using it to cool his still bright red cheeks. Roman ducked his head bashfully, but nodded.

Janus and Patton looked at each other. The explanation checked out, even if it wasn’t what they were execting.

“So... what now?” Patton asked. Janus paused in thought.

“Now,” he announced grandly, “We nap.”

[eloquent-vowel]

Part 2 "I am" Bucky x OFC (#043)

Description: #043 is Dr. Leeb's greatest success. He took immense pride in raising her to be the perfect combatent and it was finally time for her skills to be put to use. His only worry is bringing outside variables into his perfect equation but when the heads of Hydra give you orders, you follow them. #043 is sent on her first mission and things do not go as planned.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Here is the second part of #043's story! I'm sorry there is no Bucky yet but I can promise that he will be coming in soon! (I did say that this would be a slow burn). Enjoy! <3

Part 1

Dr. Leeb sniffed again, those damn cleaning products always set him off, he had tried his damn hardest to get used to the smell of the sterile facilities but even after thirteen years his nose would not stop running, it was so embarrassing. Especially at a time like this, when he was in conference with the very head of Hydra. They had contacted his lab about using #043 in the field, he had agreed without hesitation- he knew his project was ready and he could hardly contain his excitement as the General laid out the mission briefing. It was finally time to show the whole of Hydra just what he could achieve, they would finally respect his mind.

"Dr. Leeb we have read your reports, #043, code name Eris, sounds very promising. Can you back up your claims?" The man known as The General spoke, his voice although tinny through the speakers of his office carried a deep undertone of threat. If Dr. Leeb was not sweating before he was now, he had rehearsed for this moment all he had to do was speak. He cleared his throat, sniffed and dapped at his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Well, General." He cursed his voice for coming out higher than normal. "As you know former experiments for the Eris project came up negative but #043 is different, whether this is due to her age or her biology I do not know, there is a possibilty-"

"Dr. Leeb, cut to the chase, what can she do?"

"Ah, right" He loosened his tie a bit, were the fans even working in here? "Yes, #043 is the perfect blend between technology and humanity. She arrived to us in a... less than ideal state this has meant that her left leg had to be amputated above the knee and her right leg was amputated below the knee, her legs were replaced with advanced prosthetics, based upon the Winter Soldier project. These were replaced to grow with her, it was a marvel really how we managed to make them grow perfectly wi-"

"Doctor!"

"Ah, sorry, yes, well. These legs allow her to run faster than the average human being, she has reached over speeds of 60mph - this of course is helped with the super soldier serum that she has adapted to perfectly. The serum, of course, has made her taller, stronger and altogether better. She is only 16 and has already grown to be 6 feet tall, it is likely that she can grow more, she can lift her body weight easily. She has also received the benefits of advanced healing, there has yet to be an injury that has not healed within the day. #043 is trained in Muay Thai, Judo, Comat Sambo to name a few, she has mastered firearms and the use of close combat weaponry- being most proficient in the use of brass knuckles. Her senses are enhanced by the serum have given her a great skill in prediction. She is brutal, cold and most importantly, loyal to Hydra."

Dr. Leeb nervously pushed up his glasses, it was impossible to read what The General was feeling. The man's face was eternally stuck in a position of serious anger- it was rather intimidating.

"This sounds promising Dr. Leeb. I read that she was trained intellectually as well?"

"Yes, yes #043 can speak Russian, English, German, Chinese, Japanese, French, Romanian and Spanish fluently and has been taught how to use the most advanced technologies. Her physical training has always taken priority, however, but I can assure you General that if you have a wall to break through she can do it."

There was a beat of silence as the General seemed to mull something over, there was a rustle of paper on the other side of the monitor. Dr. Leeb took in some deep breaths as he waited for the General to say something, dabbing at his forehead once more to try and get rid of the sweat dripping down his brow.

"Is it true, Dr. Leeb, that you believe she could take out the Winter Soldier?"

"Yes." Dr. Leeb answered without hesitation. "We are waiting for confirmation from the scientist on the Winter Soldier project but we are scheduling for them to meet. Remember she is has yet to reach full maturation, there is no doubt that she could best the Soldier when she is fully formed, we just wish to... encourage her to see him as a threat and enemy."

"Your faith is evident, Leeb, very well, here is the details of the mission- if she fails it will be on your head Doctor."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

#043 was training, as usual, she was in the middle of combat training facing of against a large group of hydra soldiers. While she knew she could defeat them one on one, having six of them attack at the same time was proving much more difficult. It was practically impossible to dodge and block every hit coming her way, much less think about landing a punch. She currently unarmed so at least two hits on vital areas would be necessary to knock one soldier unconscious. As she was dodging she began to form a plan, she would have to spread the soldiers out, she could tackle one down and run through them but they would see that coming a mile away, she could try throwing one away but that would take far too much time. There was only one option left, to jump.

#043 stopped dodging and planted her feet, she doubled her efforts to block incoming blows and began to tense her knees. The mechanical legs clanked and whirred as the cogs inside them tightened- the only warning any of the soldiers got was the hissing of hydraulics as #043 released the tension within her legs and shot straight over the heads of the group of soldiers. She twisted in the air and landed heavily in the ground with a loud cracking sound as the concrete broke below her. She was now facing the bewildered looking group of soldiers, she smirked, as they began to run to her. Just as they reached her she jumped once more, landing right at the back by the slowest member. They were down in two swift blows to their kidney's and temple. This unfair game of cat and mouse continued until it was only two soldiers remaining.

The following fight was easy to her. One of the soldiers was taken out by a high kick to the head from her left leg and a solid stomp to the sternum cracking numerous ribs and collapsing his chest. The other was simply ended by a push kick to the chest to put them off balance and #043 swiftly grabbed one of their legs and threw them into the far wall where they impacted with a harsh thud, leaving a rather large dent in the plaster. #043 drew in a deep breath and relaxed, letting her hands fall to her sides just as the voice of Dr. Leeb entered the sandpit.

"Well done, #043! You continue to improve day by day." She felt her eye twitch as he sniffed once more. "I have some good news for you, you are to go outside."

"Outside?" Her voice was gravelly from lack of use.

"Yes, you are about to go on your first mission, it is a rather simple one mind you- I think the General is just trying to test me with this- I have no doubt that you will succeed with flying colours, you are my perfect equation."

"What will I have to do?"

"You are to infiltrate the home of a Mr. Hugo Malet, a prominent figure in the arms trade. Hydra has a target on his head and you, my dear, have the honour of being the gun who aims for it." Dr. Leeb began walking away, gesturing for #043 to follow. She eyed her trainer waiting for permission. The stern woman just gave a nod and #043 was off walking just behind Dr. Leeb, peering over his shoulder to the files he held in his hand. He continued to brief her all the way to his office.

"Mr. Malet here has a holiday chalet in the French Alps, a rather modest six bedroom, five bathroom ordeal, wholly unnecessary for his family of four but if you have the money. Such a shame he got that money by selling weapons to the wrong people. Here." Dr. Leeb sat in his desk chair before sliding the file over to #043. "Look at him, memorise his face, his family is meant to join him in the chalet in a week but if there are any others witness you must eliminate them as well- do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Repeat it to me."

"Hugo Malet, Chalet, French alps, no witnesses, no traces left behind."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the helicopter over to the Alps #043 did not know who was more nervous, her or Dr. Leeb who had insisted on monitoring the mission in person. The plan was simple, she would parachute down to the drop zone two miles away from the chalet and run to the chalet where, under the cover of night, #043 would erase the traitors.

"T-10 mins until deployment."

The announcement over the intercom spurred her into action, she began triple checking her harness and parachute, placed the night vision goggles over her eyes and ensured that the mask covering the lower half of her face was secure. Once she was sure she was ready she took her position. The side door opened to reveal the pitch black, snowy exterior of the alps, the temperature was immediately freezing . Dr. Leeb piped up behind her.

"Do not disappoint me #043, once this goes successfully the Eris project will be a reality. You know what will happen if you fail."

#043 shivered at the threat, memories enclosed walls, electric chairs and sore flesh flickering in her mind and with a single nod she jumped.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The run to the chalet had been uneventful and soon the chalet was in view. There was a warm glow coming from within and through the window #043 could see the figure of her target walking around the lower floors.

"Status report" The voice of Dr. Leeb crackled through her earpiece.

"Target sighted, moving to engage."

Armed only with a silenced pistol and her brass knuckles she moved stealthily through the pine trees until she found the backdoor. Much to her joy it was unlocked and she entered silently. There was the faint sound of some sort of soft music playing in the front room, following the noise she crept towards the slightly ajar door down the corridor.

She entered the room, pistol first, to see Hugo Malet sipping wine on the couch, sitting in front of the fireplace a woman - presumably his wife- under his arm. Without hesitation #043 shot both figures through the back of the head, killing them instantly. She approached the bodies, turning them both over to confirm their identities.

"Target is dead, his wife also."

"Great job, #043, no witnesses. Return to Location Alpha"

#043 stared at the two bodies for too long. They were slumped, still cuddled against one another, their eyes dull and lifeless. If it wasn't for the bullet hole through their foreheads'. Their lives had so easily been ended, they had not even seen it coming. She had taken lives before, but they had always been fighting her- it was her or them. This was new, the easy kills. The easy killing felt wrong, she felt wrong, her hands began to shake. Her mask began to feel too tight, the air in the room was too dense for her to breathe- desperately she made her way to the window- opening it to let the fresh air hit her face.

"Mummy? Daddy? Can I have some hot chocolate?"

#043 froze, the voice was high pitched, a child's voice, her head turned in horror to watch the door to the front room open and the Malet's youngest son enter the room. His face immediately creased into confusion, too young to understand why his parents were slumped, motionless on the couch. He was so small. #043 knew about the concept of children, she was certain she herself must have been one at some point, but she had never realised how small they are. This one must have only reached her knees, his small arms were reaching for his parent's until he caught #043 in his sight. She slowly raised her pistol.

"Who are you?" The small child asked

"I am..." she stuttered, who was she? A number? How old was she? Was she once this child, this small, this helpless, this clueless, this... innocent? The boy's eyes shone with tears and fear.

"Are you a friend of Daddy's?"

Such innocence, so small, every fibre of #043's being was screaming at her- no witnesses- but her hand was shaking, her hands never shook, there was some p[art of her that refused to harm this child. The longer she looked into his eyes the farther down she pointed her pistol.

"I am..."

But if she left this child alive she would be put in that chair again, she would be hit and placed in that tiny room, she would be a failure and Dr. Leeb would be disappointed in her. She slowly began to walk towards the small child who simply looked up at her, wide eyed and teary.

"Who..." The child's voice faded away as #043 was looked directly down at him.

"I am... Eris."

With that Eris hit the child over the head with the butt of her pistol , enough to knock him unconscious but not enough to kill him, then fired a shot into the ground by his head, she hoped that an ambulance would arrive soon. She took a deep breath before climbing out the window, leaving the crime scene behind.

"Returning to Location Alpha, No witnesses remain."

Part 3

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 5 and 6 - “I’m not saying I told you so” and “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Well... this was bound to happen eventually. Now it’s time for Alex and Macen to face the music - and more importantly, their feelings. What’s gong to happen... and is someone going to win the pool about them dating or what? It’s getting up there...

---

“I’m not saying I told you so…”

“Then don’t.”

Right then, that couch cushion was Alex’s only salvation. Face down in it, he could block out the world and his burning face. It protected him from the strange reality he had found himself in the middle of, at least until he needed to breathe. So… a minute of peace and quiet before he had to face the music.

Maybe he should work on learning to hold his breath?

Much to his displeasure, he was suddenly airborne and face-to-face with Beau. She had taken his lack of movement to get behind and pull him up by the back of his shirt. Now he was dangling there like a newborn kitten, unable to do much except groan.

He should’ve just gone home… but no, he’d gone with his costar to her place to deal with the fucked-up reality that was his life.

“Nope, it’s talking time.” She placed him down on the couch, sitting up this time. Then Beau shoved a mug of coffee in his hands, full of sugar and cream. Someone was clearly trying to bribe him – or this was the hope the sugar would make him talk. “Drink up and tell me just what the fuck happened.”

Alex sighed as he looked down at the mug. “I mean… shit…”

And as he took his first sip, his mind wandered back to that afternoon and what had gone down. Just thinking about it made his face boil with heat, but it needed to be done. All that lay in his path right then was endless embarrassment, but it needed to be done. If he didn’t tell her, somebody would.

But man, he was going to hate this… she was so smug about this kind of shit.

“Huh… wonder where Beau got off to…”

Lunchtime had finally come, and all Alex wanted to do was sit down and rest his tired bones. Thanks to last night’s… activities… he was pretty sore and even all the action scenes hadn’t been enough to rid him of the dull aching completely. In a day or two, he would be ok – until then, he would just have to work through it.

He supposed that was the downside of having sex with a turian – stretching to fit your legs around a carapace was demanding work. Good thing he was flexible.

Not only that, but he had fairly good eyesight. Off in the distance, he spotted a familiar mop of pink hair paired with black armor. Beau stuck out in a crowd to say the least, and he was glad for it as he started to walk over. However, he realized she was standing in front of someone as soon as she moved away, heading off to who knew where.

And lucky him… there was Macen.

The turian looked vaguely uncomfortable to say the least. Alex had been around him long enough to pick out some of his tells. His mandibles were twitching, and the way he was standing reminded him of those old school puppets you stuck your hand into. If he started speaking in a squeaky voice about the alphabet, he was out of there…

Ok, he was a little tired. It had been a long morning of filming, ok?

At the very least, he slowed down as he approached. “Sorry, did I break up a conversation?”

Macen’s mandibles twitched again as he met Alex’s gaze. “No, she was just leaving…”

He glanced to the side. “Do you mind following me? We need to talk about something…”

Now, for some people this could go down a road where somebody would have to pee on a stick. Lucky for them, they didn’t have the right equipment – or species, for that matter. Still, Alex felt a lump form in his throat as he managed a nod. Oh, how he had wished that had been from his stupid costume armor…

Fuck. He knew a breakup when he heard one.

“Yeah… lead the way I guess.”

Without another word, Macen was soon leading him away from where the crew was gathered. He eventually ducked into a small room, closing the door behind them once Alex stepped through. There was no other way in, so he was stuck there waiting for the sky to collapse on him.

But yeah… no big deal.

He did his best to stay casual as he took a seat – the armor was uncomfortable, especially when standing. Macen mirrored him, and they were soon seated with a small table separating them. It wasn’t particularly cozy, but maybe it was better he didn’t feel comfortable. If he needed to make a quick retreat, this was for the best.

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he looked over at the turian. “So, what did you want to talk about? I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

Doubtful – Macen was built tougher than he was. Still, a human could put a hurting on a turian if they moved in the right way, or so the internet had told him during a late night frantic search. He didn’t see any of the telltale signs, but it wasn’t like he was a medic – he just played one on TV.

Man, if only Alistair Shepard was here now to save his ass…

Macen shifted in his seat, mandibles twitching. “No, I’m fine. I wanted to talk… about things between us I guess.”

Yep… here it came. Alex had to wonder how it was going to end; was Macen a ‘it’s not you it’s me’ guy, or did he prefer to cut and run? The tabloids had made suggestions back when he had been more active in the dating scene, but nothing had ever been concrete. Now he was about to get the real scoop – if only it didn’t come at the expense of his… well, if he was going to get dumped should he even call it a relationship?

Shit, he was no good at this sort of thing… it was why he didn’t date much.

At least being an actor made it easy to play things off as neutral as he felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Turians couldn’t smell that, right? He forgot if they had strong noses or not some days. Honestly, since they didn’t really have visible nose structures…

Yeah, he was trying to avoid reality. So sue him.

“Do you not like how things have been going lately?”

Maybe they had been a bit too forward. They had both originally agreed that this was just a fuck and run thing. They had never discussed spending the night or anything else that had been happening with increasing frequency. It would be fair to say they had thrown the agreement out altogether and had been ad-libbing for quite some time. Maybe Macen didn’t like that… it was hard to read his face then.

Damn turians and their lack of eyebrows…

Macen laced his talons together as he took a breath. “I… find myself uncomfortable with it, yes.”

Alex felt something break inside him, but he did his best to keep it off his face. Oh. Well, if you want to stop…”

“No!”

The sudden outburst caught the human off guard. He blinked as he realized Macen looked almost frantic now. That definitely raised some new emotions as he waited for the other shoe to drop. At the very least, he was confused – confused and not getting broken up with. What was actually going to go down, though, he couldn’t see. All he could do was just live through it and hope for the best.

He had never been good at that, but there was a first time for everything.

It took Macen a few moments to calm down, and even then, he was a little twitchy and his frame looked rigid. Yet when they met gazes after he had, Alex felt almost embarrassed to catch his attention. His expression was just so painfully honest that it hurt to look at him.

“That’s the exact opposite of what I want.” The turian took a deep breath, prop armor creaking a little as he moved. “I… think we both know this has gone a lot further than just sex.”

Alex managed a nod. “Yeah… that probably happened after the first time you stayed the night.”

That had been months ago. Ever since, they had wavered between colleagues and… well, he didn’t want to name it. Naming it made it real. And right then, that was terrifying. He couldn’t even form the words yet – it had been far too long.

“And it’s only gotten…” he flexed his hands uselessly. “Well, stronger. After I saw you looking so passionate when you danced…”

He took another breath and held it for what must have been a painfully long time. What Alex would’ve given to see what was going on underneath his fringe. Maybe it would have settled the sensation of sitting on a pile of pins, hoping Macen was going to offer him a magnet to get them out and not another round of them. Right then, he just had to wait.

“I think I’ve fallen for you, Alex.”

Now, if he had been in a sober state of mind, he would’ve registered this was one of the few times the turian had used his first name. However, he was way past sober thanks to the beginning of the statement. His stomach had gone from bubbling in distaste to fluttering like a flock of butterflies had gotten stuck in there. Forget rational thought – he wasn’t thinking at all.

Was this actually real?

Macen’s mandibles twitched slowly as he looked away. “Of course, I understand if you don’t feel the same. We can forget this ever happened and just end things before it gets awkward. I think we’re both mature enough to be able to work together, right?”

While Alex wasn’t a military man in truth, he knew the sounds of a retreat sounding when he heard it. Right then, Macen was trying to get back from the no man’s land he had found himself in before he got his head shot off. Of course, that meant he assumed that someone was aiming a gun at him and had their finger on the trigger.

And honestly? His finger hurt too much from his prop rifle to even think about pulling a real one. Fuck that.

The turian took his silence as a yes and started to rise. Alex felt panic take over as he jumped to his feet, reaching out to grab him. He found purchase on Macen’s wrist, tugging him back with such force that both fell onto the floor with a hearty thump thanks to gravity and the differences in their weights.

This was a great reminder of why he didn’t enjoy being on the bottom. Macen was too fucking heavy and bulky for this.

“Oww…” the turian groaned above him as he rubbed his mandible. “You didn’t have to grab me.”

Alex groaned as well, but mostly because Macen’s knee was close to a sensitive area. “Could you move please? I only like your dick there…”

With a clatter, his costar and part-time lover jumped off with the speed of his character. Even better, he offered out a hand to help him get to his feet. Normally he wouldn’t have gone for it, but given he’d had a turian knee to the crotch, Alex needed all the help he could get to return to a standing position. For not the first time, he was glad he had been wearing armor. Even if it was fake, it had protected him from some real pain.

Had he ever mentioned he was glad he didn’t have testicles? Because, man, he was feeling that now.

“Sorry.” Macen wasn’t letting go of his hand, even though they were both standing. “But… you still didn’t answer me. What do you think about… well… us?”

There was a hopeful note to his voice as he cocked his head to the side in an adorable way that made Alex’s insides flutter once more. If that didn’t tell him what he wanted, nothing would. So, the human decided to go with his gut.

Carefully, he leaned up on tiptoe and planted a quick peck on Macen’s left mandible. “I think we may have to change our agreement to include the clause about catching feelings for each other.”

That would’ve been so much cooler if he hadn’t lost his balance immediately after. Lucky for him, the turian was quick to make sure he didn’t fall flat on his face. Surprisingly strong arms held him close enough that he could hear Macen’s heart beating its strange, frenetic pace. It was faster than usual – someone was nervous.

He was too. But it was ok.

“I mean, I knew you were falling for me…”

And Macen chuckled when Alex groaned. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh great, you like dumb puns.” Still, he chuckled too as he leaned in close. “But I’d say that makes us even. Dare I even say it, but I think you’re my boyfriend now.”

Did turians have a word for that? He had never really studied alien languages in school beyond the basic shit to get you around on the Citadel if the translators went out. Maybe he should get Duolingo in turian if this was going to be a thing.

Damn, he hated that owl… but it was for the best.

“I think that would be a fair assessment.” Macen’s voice was soft with those words. “It’s going to get around… are you ready for that kind of thing?”

Of course he wasn’t – nobody was ever ready for their relationship being front page news. Given their previous animosity and their roles, this was going to drive the tabloids insane. Yet even though he knew that Alex found that he didn’t really care. Maybe he would later, when cooler heads prevailed, but in the moment, he was fine with whatever came at him.

Dumb, maybe. But no one had ever claimed he was smart.

“I think we can make it work.” He would have leaned in for another peck, but the sound of motion on the other side of the door drew his attention. From the sound of things, they needed to get back to set. “Damn, talk about awful timing.”

Macen helped him get steady on his feet as they left the room behind. “We can talk more later. It’s not like I need to ask for your number or anything.”

“Ah, the benefits of fucking beforehand.” Alex chuckled as they made their way back to the set. “Well, I think the director will applaud our new chemistry at the very least.”

The turian stuck out his strange tongue at that. “Always the professional, I see.”

Someone had to be. If Macen was giving up the role of resident stick up his ass perfectionist, it needed to go to someone. And his ass was smaller anyway…

But he could think about his boyfriend’s ass later. They had a scene to shoot first. Afterwards… noodles, maybe?

---

“And… yeah, so I guess we’re a thing now.”

Alex’s mug was empty now, and he was craving another. However, he would have needed to go through Beau, and she was currently staring at him as if he had two heads. As far as he knew he didn’t, but he touched his neck anyway just to check. Nope – just one.

His costar shook her head as she came back to reality. “I mean… I’m not saying I told you so…”

“Didn’t we just have that conversation?” He frowned as he felt his face heat up. “But… yeah I guess you’re right. The just sex thing folded like a house of cards.”

Beau smirked as she picked up his empty mug, heading off to refill it. “Took y’all long enough, but I knew it would happen eventually. So, any bets on who is going to leak it first? Citadel Weekly usually gets the hot gossip first, but the head editor over at Daily Drama has had it out for you since you started fucking…”

Anyone but Daily Drama. He still wanted to punch that asshole in the face…

“I don’t know. I’m half debating doing it myself to some unknown paper so they all hate the fact they didn’t get it first.” He shrugged. “But that’s a conversation for me and Macen to have later. Right now, it’s just… weird.”

Weird was good word for it. It wasn’t bad, just… odd. Sex was one thing; an actual relationship was something else entirely. Yet as he thought about it, he didn’t really mind. There were worse positions to be in – like having a turian knee in his crotch.

Had he mentioned that really hurt? He was lucky he wasn’t bruised…

Beau returned, coffee in hand. “Well, as long as nobody finds out until next week, I still win the pot.”

All Alex could do was shake his head and accept the mug. “Dare I ask what your winnings are going to be?”

“Oh, just a low five figures. All the human crewmates were going hard as hell. I’m pretty sure Rili is going to be just crushed about it, mind you.”

Ah, yes. Because Beau would totally be worried about the quarian member of the cast. She wasn’t subtle.

“Well, I can recommend a place to take her for a consolation dinner. They have both levo and dextro.” He sipped from the mug, sighing in relief. It was good to have things off his chest. “Shit, it’s been so long since I’ve dated someone that I forgot how it feels.”

“Something, something, getting back on the horse?”

Something, something, indeed. Still, Alex was glad to be back on the old-fashioned mode of transportation as he sat there, drinking his coffee and planning his costar’s date with the woman who played Tali. Like he had said, there were worse positions to be in.

And… well, the heart he had added next to Macen’s name in his contact list was a nice touch. Maybe he should have done this sooner…

Nah. It would’ve been a shame to cost Beau money. Rili deserved a nice date spot. It was the least he could do as her unofficial wingman.

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 29 - Devil

“Do you want to-“

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping. I want this. I want you. I want you to fuck my ass.”

You reach up with your right hand, past her hips and her right breast, to her chin, turning it slightly until you are able to kiss her. You spend several long moments there, your lips and tongues playing with each other.

“Now keep going,” she says as she breaks the kiss, “fill me. Fill my ass. Fill me, and fuck me.”

You aren’t one to refuse such an order, and so you press forward - all the while, your eyes are glued to hers as she looks over her shoulder at you, your hand still grasping her by the chin, those eyes glazed with pleasure and lust and just a hint of pain and discomfort. You have never seen her like this - so much in need. You’d seen her face when she is filled with your cock for the first time, seen it during sex, when she is moaning and sighing and gasping, seen it twisted in pleasure when she cums - but never like this. Never twisted in a heady mix of pain and pleasure and pure, unfiltered lust.

It takes minutes or hours or days later, you weren’t sure - but soon you are fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Minatozaki Sana’s ass.

It is at that moment that you both hear the bathroom door open, and two women walk inside.

Sana’s eyes go wide with surprise.

---

The older you got, the more you wanted to just be at home. You would've given anything to be at home. Or anywhere, really, other than where you currently were.

And it wasn't because you hated the place - Seoul had a newly flourishing craft beer scene, as it turned out, and this particular bar was one of the more popular ones.

And it certainly wasn't because you hated the people. Most of your company, after all, comprised mainly of beautiful young women, most of whom you'd had more than a couple intimate experiences with. Even the few guys that were there were dudes you got along with - in your limited interactions with them, anyway. There was worse company to be had. 

No, it was mostly because you wanted, needed some time alone, away from everyone else. Tomorrow was going to be a pretty big day, and you figured you should be at home, resting, preparing yourself for what was to come… or maybe playing some Modern Warfare. Either or.

Tomorrow was the chosen date for the SM operation - the day that Nayeon had decided she would infiltrate SM's headquarters office, using the entrance she had procured from her interrogation of Jay, in an attempt to find the evidence she needed to incriminate SM.

You all should have been at home. You wanted to be at home.

And by "home,” you really meant your hotel room - you were, after all, in Korea, thousands of kilometers from your actual home. You'd spent way too much time in hotel rooms over the past year, and truth be told you'd almost forgotten what "home" really meant. That apartment back in your home city, sitting empty for so long now, seemed like a distant memory. To go back there now would be like going to a foreign place. "Home" was whatever hotel room you were currently staying in. Your possessions were limited to what you could pack in that duffel bag and luggage carrier that had become your constant companions.

You wanted to be back in your hotel room, but you found yourself here in downtown Seoul, mostly against your wishes. Sana had insisted that everyone go out one last time before the big day tomorrow, mostly in an effort to get everyone to relax and cool off. And so when the clock hit 5 she dragged everyone, some of you physically, out of the office and into this bar.

You swirl your half-empty glass of pale ale in your hand as you watch Dahyun and Jeongyeon play darts across the room. It wasn't an ordinary cork dartboard - like many things in the technologically advanced South Korean capital, it had been enhanced with the latest technology to look more like an abstract science-fiction version of the traditional bar game. 

Dahyun is hopeless at the game as she was with drink orders, it turns out, and two of the three darts she tosses towards the circular target miss altogether. She cringes in embarrassment as the two wayward darts strike the plastic facing of the machine instead. Jeongyeon chides her playfully for her misses before she takes her turn, and true to form, she makes two high point hits, the third just barely missing her target. The girl had a knack for physical games as well as digital ones, it seemed.

As she collects the darts from the board she turns and catches your eyes. You raise your glass slightly in toast to her ability, and she blushes lightly, brushing away her newly short hair with a shy smile before stepping behind Dahyun as the shorter girl takes her turn.

"You should go out with her already," comes a voice to your left, "you clearly have feelings for each other."

You turn to find Sana has taken the seat next to you, placing her glass of beer on the table as she does so. Alcohol has given her cheeks a soft pink blush to go with her newly dyed pink hair. She looked stunning, as always, and it wasn't hard to notice that she had already captured the full attention of every other male - and some females - in the building.

"Jeongyeon and I are just friends," you state - it was becoming a bit of a routine, at this point, explaining your relationship with the IT specialist to everyone around you. Was it that obvious, the way Jeongyeon felt about you?

"Sure, you think you're just friends. But what does she think?"

You take a moment to ponder Sana's question. Jeongyeon had made her feelings for you clear, and you knew that all it would take was a simple conversation, a simple act of admitting you felt the same way, and bam - you'd have a new girlfriend.

And it wasn't like you didn't have feelings for Jeongyeon, either - she was smart, and beautiful (sometimes breathtakingly so, when she wanted to be), and a genuinely good person, fiercely loyal and protective to her friends and those she held dear. But beyond all that, and perhaps most importantly, being around her made you feel comfortable and cared for in a way that none of the other girls did. She made you feel special.

In another time, in different circumstances, you would have already been with her. But it just didn't feel right at the moment, not now, and not so soon after your breakup with Momo.

"Now's not the right time," you finally answer, swirling your beer around in its glass for the umpteenth time, "we have too much going on to think about starting a relationship."

Sana doesn't seem to believe you, and she lets out a smirk and a "mmmhmmm" as she takes a sip of her own drink.

"What about you?" you ask, eager to change the subject away from Jeongyeon, "what happened to you jumping on me the second I was single, the way you said you would when we were in Hawaii?"

Sana takes a moment to compose her answer, a sly smile appearing on her lips the way it always did when she was formulating some plan in her head. She always seemed to be planning and plotting, always seemed to be thinking the game a few moves ahead of the rest of you. You had experienced first hand what her plotting and scheming could bring, and while your suspicion of her had eased somewhat in recent weeks, you never really could shake the thought that Minatozaki Sana had a little bit of a snake in her.

"I still plan to," she admits, "but I'm going to take my time for the same reason you and Jeongyeon aren't already together. It's too soon. I'm not a monster."

She takes a sip of her beer as she gives you another one of those sly smiles - venom laced with honey.

You smirk at the Japanese girl. She leans forward on the table, bringing her arms together, ostensibly to cup her glass shyly with both hands - but it also had the added side effect of emphasizing the low cut of the sparkly top she wore and the tantalizing cleavage it produced. She wasn't the most endowed amongst your little group, but she certainly knew how to use what she had. You didn't doubt for a moment that everything she did and said was for a purpose.

You knew how this night would end. You’d spent enough time around this group of girls to know where it was leading. You knew what was about to happen, and while the angel on your shoulder kept trying to convince you to call it an early night, the pink haired, Sana-shaped devil on your opposite shoulder was whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and telling you it was okay to indulge in the pleasure that was surely coming.

"I remember you said something in Hawaii... what was it?" she begins, tapping her lip with a finger playfully, "Oh, that's right. You told me there was somewhere else you could put it. Too bad we never got around to it."

"That's too bad," you answer, happy to play her game.

"Mmhmm, too bad. I suppose we could have, but with Mina and Choa leaving, I didn't think it was the right time. I'm not a monster," she repeats.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you, Sana?"

"I'm an angel," she says with the confident tone of a woman who believed it, "Most of the time. Other times, I'm a devil."

"And what are you tonight?"

Sana smiles, one of those slick, sly, devilish smiles of hers - the smile of a hunter that has come upon an animal helpless in her trap. She looks up at you, gives you a playful, cute shrug, and quickly downs the rest of her glass.

Slamming the empty vessel down on the table, she rises and saunters towards the bathrooms, slowly, every little step highlighted with an exaggerated sway of those perfect hips, knowing you - and indeed every other male in the room - was watching.

When she reaches the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms, and just before she disappears into it, she turns halfway to where you are still sitting before biting her lip and giving you a smile that was all devil, and very little angel. 

—-

Every step of the way from your table to the bathrooms, you knew the eyes of every single male - and perhaps some females - were on you. Each pair of eyes glaring with jealousy, envy, perhaps a little lust, as you follow the gorgeous young Japanese girl into the women’s bathroom.

What they would have given to be in your position now - standing in one of the stalls, with that same girl on her knees in front of you, her wavy, pink hair bobbing up and down as she took your shaft in and out of her mouth, her tongue pressed hard against its underside, lathering it with slick saliva as it pumped in and out between her lips.

Sana had wasted no time - she rarely did. A few moments of hurried, frenzied kisses, tongues duelling with impatient knowledge that it was all just an appetizer for what was to come. Her fingers worked with practiced ease at your belt, and within moments she had drawn your pants and boxers down to your knees, the newfound freedom of your shaft short lived as it found itself imprisoned by another, significantly more pleasant prison - Sana’s mouth.

You let your fingers graze through her pink hair, a color that you’d thought was daring and outandish on any other girl but was perfect for her. It only amplified the dichotomy that was  Minatozaki Sana - that duality of angel and devil that was the core of her.

She lets your cock pop out from between her lips, those perfect pink lips wrapped tightly around your hard flesh as she lets it exit the warmth of her wet mouth. She looks up at you as she presses the sensitive head against her tongue, letting you see first hand the face of an angel engaged in an act that was not at all angelic.

She rises from her knees, wiping the excess saliva from her lips with the back of her hand.

“Fuck me now,” she says, almost a hiss, a sexy but almost angry look in her eyes. She turns around, facing the walls of the bathroom stall, and quickly undoes the belt and buttons of her small, tiny pair of black shorts she is wearing beneath the already extremely short hem of her sparkly blue dress.

You press yourself against her, both of your hands reaching under the hem of her skirt for the waistband of her shorts and pulling them down with a roughness that surprises you, revealing the pale skin of her perfectly shaped ass, round and full. You give her right butt cheek a firm slap, one that elicits a yelp from the surprised Japanese girl.

She turns halfway around to you and bites her lip.

Your right hand snakes around and dives towards her crotch, and you are unsurprised to quickly feel the slick wetness between her thighs. She wanted this, needed it, just like you knew she would.

You take your shaft in your right hand, still slick and glistening with her saliva. She bends slightly at the waist, her hands pressed against the green wall of the stall - but the rest of her upper body is quickly pressed against it when your shaft parts her wet lips and you slip inside her wet, hot body.

Being inside Minatozaki Sana was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the women’s bathroom of some random bar in Seoul, on the eve of the most important operation of your career and with all the stress of past and future relationships clouding your mind, she felt downright heavenly. She was a release from all the stress, a valve for all the frustration and unease boiling in your mind.

Sana lets out a sharp gasp as you fill her for the first time, the same way she did every time. You never tired of hearing that gasp. It was a gasp of pleasure, of relief, of being filled and completed - a puzzle finished with a missing piece. She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication.

When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you - but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the wall.

You spend long moments with your gaze downward, watching as your shaft drills in and out between those round cheeks of hers. You need more, need more of her body, and so you reach up with your left hand to her chest, finding the top of her short dress and pulling downward.

Her breasts bounce free from their tight prison, and Sana gasps in surprise at being newly exposed - not that she minded in the slightest, so lost was she in the pleasure fling her mind and welcoming the potential new source of it. You reach up and squeeze her soft, round mounds with both hands, enjoying the feel of her warm flesh in your fingers and the tight, hard nipples poking your palms.

“Oh, fuck!” Sana hisses, your hands on her breasts bringing her torso upright, until you are both fucking almost vertically. 

You increase your tempo, satisfied now that Sana was ready for more, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway - you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position.

Soon Sana is cumming, and you are only partially surprised at how quickly she is coming to her first orgasm given the circumstances and the audacity of sex in a bar bathroom. Her mouth opens in a frozen, wordless “O”, her body tightening and pulsing around you, her small frame quivering and shaking as she momentarily loses control of herself.

It takes every effort not to join her in bliss, and you knew she certainly wouldn’t have minded if you did so - but it was her that brought up what you had spoken about in Hawaii, and you weren’t about to disappoint her.

You release her naked breasts from your hands, and she slumps forward against the wall of the bathroom stall, breathing heavily, still recovering from her orgasm. You slip out of her, your rock hard shaft drenched with her juices - and almost quivering with anticipation. The low bathroom light glistens on your cock, and you are satisfied that it is wet enough for what is to come next.

Sana’s head is still hanging between her arms - but when you bring your palms to the cheeks of her ass and spread them slightly, her head rises and turns to look at you.

You had seen Sana deep in the throes of lust and passion before, but you’d never seen her like this - so filled with devilish lust and need at what was about to come. She locks eyes with you, bites her lip softly, and gives you the slightest of nods.

Her cheeks spread apart with your palms, you point the head of your cock at the opening of her ass and begin to press forward.

Sana gasps as your head presses against her tight opening, her body refusing to let you in at first - but you press forward with your hips, slowly parting her entrance. Sana squirms and quivers as her opening slowly parts, and soon you are finally inside her.

Sana’s hands tighten into fists against the smooth surface of the bathroom stall, and a grimace of pain overtakes her partially turned head as you penetrate her ass for the first time. She lets a long hiss escape her lips, and you kiss the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, bringing your left hand to match hers on the wall, covering her small hand with your own.

Soon you are halfway inside her ass, and you go no further, letting her get used to the new penetration. When you stop moving Sana lets out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

“Fuck,” she spits, “fuck you’re so big inside me.”

“Do you want to-“

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping. I want this. I want you. I want you to fuck my ass.”

You reach up with your right hand, past her hips and her right breast, to her chin, turning it slightly until you are able to kiss her. You spend several long moments there, your lips and tongues playing with each other.

“Now keep going,” she says as she breaks the kiss, “fill me. Fill my ass. Fill me, and fuck me.”

You aren’t one to refuse such an order, and so you press forward - all the while, your eyes are glued to hers as she looks over her shoulder at you, your hand still grasping her by the chin, those eyes glazed with pleasure and lust and just a hint of pain and discomfort. You have never seen her like this - so much in need. You’d seen her face when she is filled with your cock for the first time, seen it during sex, when she is moaning and sighing and gasping, seen it twisted in pleasure when she cums - but never like this. Never twisted in a heady mix of pain and pleasure and pure, unfiltered lust.

It takes minutes or hours or days later, you weren’t sure - but soon you are fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Minatozaki Sana’s ass.

It is at that moment that you both hear the bathroom door open, and two women walk inside.

Sana’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“I think we’re ready,” says one of the voices - Jihyo’s. 

“I think so too,” agrees another - Nayeon.

“We’re ready,” Jihyo says, “the real question is whether you’re ready.”

“Of course I am,” Nayeon answers with all the confidence in the world, “I always am.”

You wonder what your ex-girlfriend would have said if she’d known that you were just a few feet away, fully buried inside the ass of one of his colleagues.

Jihyo and Nayeon continue their conversation - mostly mundane details about tomorrow’s operation. As they speak, you slowly draw your shaft outside of Sana’s tightly grasping ass for the first time, and once it is halfway out, you slowly push back inside her.

Sana is a quivering and squirming mess, and soon you are slowly pumping in and out of her body, your pace relaxed as you enjoy the tight, hot flesh of Sana’s body wrapped around your cock.

Sana’s tightness  is overwhelming, to say the least - her pussy was tight, but her ass on another level altogether. Not as wet, of course, but almost overwhelmingly tight and hot, grasping you tightly with each entrance and exit like a glove. You weren’t sure how much experience she had had with anal sex, but soon she was taking you in and out of her ass smoothly, the pain and discomfort of your initial penetration quickly lessening and giving way to the novel, new sensation of pleasure from having her ass filled.

Sana lets a short, sharp gasp escape her lips when you fill her to the hilt - one she clearly regrets, given the surprised and embarrassed look on her face. You reach up with your right hand to cover her mouth, and soon you are fucking her ass with your hand clasped over her lips as she tries her best to stifle her moans. Her eyes are glazed over now with pleasure, still locked to yours even as you pump in and out of her asshole.

After awhile her gasps lessen and then end completely as she becomes used to the hard length pumping in and out of her butt. She reaches up with her right hand to cover yours, and she pulls it down her face, until it is at her throat. You didn’t know she was into choking, and she had never shown much interest in it before - but you’d never had her ass before either. You feel her warm neck pulsing beneath your palm. She squeezes the outside of your hand slightly, causing you to clamp a little bit around her slim neck. 

The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her ass to clench even tighter around you - and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you are going insane.

The novelty of it - of fucking Sana’s ass, your hand around her throat - and the danger - being in the bathroom of a busy bar, with your colleagues outside and two of them actually in the same bathroom, seemingly oblivious to the lewd act taking place a few paces away from them - it was all overwhelming.

Outside the bathroom stall, mere feet away, Nayeon and Jihyo are continuing their conversation. Thankfully, the stall you are occupying is a little ways away from the mirror and sinks where you presume they are having their conversation, meaning there was little chance of them noticing what was happening unless they were standing directly outside of the stall.

“...and we’ll be in the van, keeping an eye on everything,” Jihyo says, “Me, their tech specialist, one of the girls from their Tokyo office.. What was her name? The one with the pink hair. Oh, and... him.”

Nayeon lets out a scoff.

“How did he take it, anyway?” Jihyo asks, “I mean, how did he react to your... interrogation techniques?”

“I don’t give a shit what he thinks. I know it turned him on enough to fuck that slut that runs their office in town while they were watching.”

“And you don’t care that he’s got a little harem of girls that he fucks whenever he wants?”

There is a short silence. You imagine Nayeon is considering her answer.

“No,” she says finally. Maybe you were imagining it, but she sounded a little less sure, a little less confident of herself just then.

“Hmm. I could’ve sworn maybe you still had feelings for him.”

“A long time ago. When I was young and stupid.”

“And those feelings won’t ever come back?”

You tense and ready yourself to hear the answer, but all you hear is the sound of the door opening, and the sound of their heels on the tiled floor as they finally leave the bathroom.

The whole time they were speaking, you were continuing to pump in and out of Sana’s ass. It surprised you you lasted this long. And you were more than willing to let yourself fall over the edge.

Your thrusts quicken in pace as you near the edge.

“Cum inside me,” Sana gasps, free to speak now that Nayeon and Jihyo had left, “Choke me!”

Sana’s hand, the one stop your hand at her throat, tightens as though willing you to increase your grip on her windpipe. You are still afraid of hurting her - you already felt guilty for causing her pain and discomfort, however temporary, when you first entered her ass. But her hand on top of yours, clasped around her throat, dismissed any worry you may have had about taking things too far. Your orgasm beckons, and the hand around Sana’s pale throat tightens involuntarily with each thrust in her hot, tight hole.

“Do it... own me. I’m yours. Choke me while you fuck my ass... while you use me! Fill me... Fill my ass with your cum!”

With a few final, short, hard thrusts into Sana’s ass, you bury yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting go. Thick, hot cum spurts from your shaft into Sana’s willing depths, her hot, tight ass squeezing and pulsing around your cock as if milking every last drop from you.

As you cum your hand around her throat involuntarily tightens, and the moan that escapes Sana’s throat turns into a gasp - the dark part of you takes obscene pleasure in that fact.

Both of your bodies quiver and shake as the intense pleasure of your orgasm overwhelms your senses. It seems to last forever - longer than any other orgasm you’d had lately. Nothing else exists for those long seconds, aside from Sana’s shaking body in your arms and the hot mess you’ve made inside her.

Your cock pulses a few final times as your orgasm slowly subsides and releases the last spurts of cum into Sana’s body and you regretfully come down from your high. After a few more seconds of treasuring the feel of the hot, creamy mess you’ve left inside her, you slowly draw your half-soft cock out of her body. Within seconds, white, pearly semen begins to leak out of her and onto the reddened, sore cheeks of her ass.

You collapse against the opposite wall of the bathroom stall, trying in vain to process what had just happened. Your eyes remain glued to Sana’s still-quivering form as she tries and mostly fails to collect herself. Slowly she turns so that she too is leaning with her back against the opposite wall, her naked breasts and crotch still exposed, her black shorts still around her knees.

Her inner thighs glisten, your juices and hers flowing down her naked skin. 

“Fuck,” she gasps. A cute smile that you find oddly out of place given her current state of undress appears on her lips, and you smile right back. 

In an action that would have been intensely adorable had she not been half naked, mere minutes from the dirtiest sex she had ever had, Sana blows away a stray strand of pink hair that has fallen into her face before smiling cutely at you. 

The devil satiated for now, she lets a little bit of the angel return.

—-

“HQ to Blue 1, come in.”

“This is Blue 1, loud and clear,” Nayeon responds.

It is noon the next day, hours before the scheduled start of Nayeon’s operation. You are standing in the underground parking lot of JYP as Nayeon tests the connection and clarity of the miniature communication earpiece she had hidden in her ear. From the open rear door of the van, where she is overseeing all the technology involved in the operation, Jeongyeon gives you a thumbs up.

“Can you adjust the camera on her jacket? The picture isn’t quite centered,” she adds as she slides back into the rear of the van on her wheeled chair.

You reach for the small pin, which was in truth a miniature wireless camera, on the short blazer Nayeon is wearing, adjusting the angle as Jeongyeon requested. Nayeon fidgets and squirms, clearly uncomfortable with your sudden proximity.

“Will you sit still for a second?” you ask, sounding a little more annoyed than you wanted to.

“Will you hurry up? It’s a goddamn pin, it’s not that hard to straighten,” she replies with a similarly annoyed tone.

You huff under your breath at how difficult she was being - she had been this way the entire morning. Having done what you could, you turn back to the van.

“Jeongyeon? What about now?”

A couple of moments pass as she reviews the video feed.

“Yeah, it’s still a little crooked. Let me see what I can do on my end,” she yells from the van.

You stand there awkwardly with Nayeon, both of you unsure what to do next while Jeongyeon worked on the video feed. Nayeon fidgets with her blazer and earpiece, and you pull out your phone and pretend to look through your emails.

“So… why did you choose Blue as your callsign, anyway?” you ask Nayeon, not taking your eyes away from your phone. You wanted to break the awkward silence somehow.

“I… It’s my favorite color. Thanks for remembering.”

You smirk at Nayeon’s comment.

“It was years ago, Nayeon. People forget things.”

“It’s a pretty simple thing to remember. Pretty much everything I gave you was blue.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Including that blue hoodie I gave you for our second anniversary. The one you wore for like a year straight, the one you loved so much? But who cares, you probably threw it away a long time ago,” Nayeon finishes. You look up from your phone to see that she has turned away from you, looking blankly at some of the other parked cars in the lot.

You go back to wondering about just why she was so upset today. The two of you had settled on being coldly indifferent towards each other at work and ignoring each others’ presence altogether outside of it, but today something had changed - from the moment she had come into the office this morning she had seemed angry and upset at you.

“What exactly is your problem today, Nayeon?” you demand, wanting to know just why you were being treated this way.

Nayeon crosses her arms, still facing away from you.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says after a short silence as she casts her eyes downward, “forget about it.”

“Nayeon-”

You are interrupted by the sound of a woman jogging into the parking lot from the nearby elevator. It is Sana, her hair a flurry of wavy pink strands as she pulls back the hood atop her head. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late! I slept in…” she says, catching her breath. She fans herself with one hand and with the other she unzips the blue hoodie she is wearing…

Your blue hoodie. The one you gave her what seemed like a lifetime ago, when you spent your first night together in Tokyo. The same one that was given to you as an anniversary present, so many years ago...

You turn to Nayeon to see that she has already noticed what the Japanese girl is wearing. She tried, on the surface, to keep composed, but you had seen that look before - it was the same look she wore when you told her about the job offer from JYP, the same one that would mean the end of your relationship. It was a look of someone whose heart had just been shattered, but whose pride was keeping her from outwardly showing it.

“I… Sana, I think Jeongyeon needs some help in the van, can you help her out?”

Sana is puzzled at your request, but not being any wiser, she nods an affirmative to the both of you and moves to join Jeongyeon.

You turn to Nayeon, who is almost shaking with fear and hate and heartbreak.

“Nayeon, I-”

“No, don’t even start,” she hisses, holding up a hand as though physically stopping you from going any further, “Don’t.”

You notice she is quivering with equal parts hate and anger and hurt, her hands balled into fists as she struggles to contain the emotions overwhelming her.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” she says under her breath, “for still having feelings for you. For hoping you still had feelings for me. And for taking this job when Jihyo asked, and going halfway across the world for the chance that maybe, just maybe, you and I could give it another shot.”

You want to say something, want to tell her it was all a big unfortunate mistake, a big misunderstanding, and that Sana wearing the blue hoodie meant nothing.

“But here you are,” Nayeon continues, her voice and tone wavering, “and you’ve done nothing but parade the train of sluts that you’re sleeping with in front of me - hell, you even fucked one while I was in the same goddamn bathroom, because that’s how much of an asshole you are. And you even gave her the hoodie I gave you, just to rub it in my face. That’s how much you wanted to show me I was just some girl you’d fucked and left behind in your hometown. Just another girl. Just another hole. Just another slut.”

You are shocked speechless by Nayeon’s confession, and you are unable to defend yourself from her accusations. All you can do is stand there, dumbfounded, as the woman you once loved so much struggles to compose herself.

“But really, I should be thanking you. Because I loved you. I thought for a minute that maybe I still loved you.”

Nayeon pauses, and in that moment a single tear falls from her eye, down a face that is shattered by emotion.

“So thank you, really - for convincing me that you don't deserve my love.”

Nayeon turns and leaves the parking lot back in the direction of the elevators, and just as it was so many years ago, she leaves with a broken heart.

---

[gamesception]

The Promised Neverland is kind of really good, actually?  I mean, yeah, I’m late to the party as usual, but I just binged the first season of the anime, and then the manga from that point on (the site I was on didn’t have any of the second season, but apparently it diverges from the comic and gets bad anyway, so maybe just read the comic to begin with).  And, I mean, spoilers, obviously, but I’m going to get into some extremely major spoilers here so if you haven’t read it or if you’ve only seen the first season of the anime maybe skip this post and read the manga, but...

...

I’ve tried and failed to write a big long post about all the ways it’s so good, how the main three characters are each so compelling, how its pitch dark but not cynical or misanthropic, with mortal stakes but not gore-porny, positive and optimistic without being trite or naïve, how choosing Emma out of the main three to be the primary protagonist and viewpoint character keeps the story from becoming a masculine militaristic power fantasy, how the antagonists are treated as characters and not just monsters - even the ones that are literal monsters, about how the story never supports or glorifies the idea of sacrificing the weak so that the strong can survive, about how empathy and understanding and a chance for peace are extended to every single villain without putting a burden to forgive on victims and without ignoring the need to fight those who refuse the offer of peace and uphold the status quo, how the story opposes oppressive hierarchies at every turn - not just those the monsters use to control the human children at the farms, but also how the monster elites use access to human meat to controller the lower social classes of monster society, and even to an extent within the human resistance.

But there’s just way too much to talk about to get it all into one big giant post, and I don’t have the stamina for a big extended ongoing project right now - or else I’d return to one of the like 12 I have on hold.

But, like, to pick just one thing....

ok, so eventually we learn what the monsters are and why they eat people.  They’re a weird sort of organism that can temporarily take on the characteristics of things they eat.  Eat a bird and grow wings, eat a bug and grow an exoskeleton, eat a human and gain a humanoid body and the intelligence to become self aware, learn language, form societies - for a while.  But if they go too long without eating people, then they lose their minds and revert to a bestial form.  In order to save the humans, the resistance leader Minerva plans to wipe out the monster society altogether.  After all, they literally have to eat humans to continue being people, there is no possibility of peace.

Protagonist Emma, though, has seen not just the horrific human farms and their cruel and corrupt rulers, but also their towns and settlements, their families and children.  She was even saved at one point shortly after her escape by friendly monsters who opposed the farm system, and even though it seems impossible, she wants to save both the humans and the monsters.

A more typical show, at least among those with premises as dark as The Promised Neverland, wouldn’t take Emma’s side in this.  She would be forced to ‘grow up’ and face the fact that she can’t save everyone.  Her naivety would get someone killed to break her heart and teach her to be hard and cruel as if those things are virtues.  Or, more likely, she wouldn’t be the viewpoint character to begin with, she’d be a side character whose ideals would get herself killed in order to elevate the male characters’ angst and justify their violence.  Either way, the message would be “Emma’s ideals were unrealistic and could never survive contact with the harsh reality of the world.”

TPN instead takes Emma’s Side.  She finds monsters who maintain a humanoid body and intelligence without eating humans, and they’re able to spread that trait to the rest of monster society while the humans all escape to the human world.  Now, as much as I don’t like the grimdark ‘there is no peaceful option’ hypothetical version of the story, this development could have been handled pretty badly.  Like, just reading it like that, it sounds like the story raised a big moral dilemma and then chickened out of it.  But that’s really not how it comes off while you’re reading it, for a couple reasons.

First of all, Emma meets the non-human-eating monsters early in the story, long before we get the explanation of how monsters in general work.  So by the time we learn that the monsters must eat humans to maintain their self identity, the audience already knows that there are exceptions and that an alternative exists.  The story never sets this up to be a moral dilemma in the first place, so when the issue is bypassed it doesn’t feel like it’s undercut itself.

More importantly, though, is the thematic & metaphorical content.  Because the monster society is a pretty explicit metaphor for unjust human societies, and monsters represent the people who make up such societies.  Not just the aristocrats who benefit from the unjust society, or those who directly enforce and uphold it, but also regular people.  People insulated just enough from the suffering and death that their lives are built on that they can turn a blind eye to it, but aware enough of their complicity in that suffering that they construct excuses to justify their part in it, and by proxy excuse those at the top who actually benefit from and shaped the society as it is.  People living lives simultaneously just comfortable enough to keep them docile, but precarious enough that they’re too caught up with struggling to maintain the tenuous grasp on the lives they have to feel like they can work towards anything better.  Monster society in TPN is a cage built out of the corpses of humans cattle, but built to imprison and enslave the monster civilians who eat them.

Hanging the story on the fantastical element of monster biology would divorce it from that essential metaphor while also endorsing an outright genocidal worldview, and TPN explicitly calls out the plan to wipe out the monsters altogether as just that - genocidal.  It never even pretends to entertain the notion that the audience should accept that plan as the right choice, even while it doesn’t condemn Minerva for pursuing it. When Emma is proposing her plan to Minerva, the deal she strikes with him is ‘I will try to make my peaceful solution happen, and if I succeed then you cancel your plan to wipe out the monsters’.  Minerva is eventually shown to be lying when he makes that agreement, but Emma isn’t, and note the if there.  If Emma’s plan fails, then she - and thus the narrative - accepts that Minerva’s plan to save the children is still better than leaving things as they are, even if it means wiping out all the monsters.  After all, the society IS monstrously unjust, and even the lower classes within that society ARE complicit in that injustice.

Minerva’s problem isn’t even presented as a matter of him hating the monsters too much to see a route to peace with them.  The story doesn’t frame the conflict between Minerva’s and Emma’s plans as hate vs. love or revenge vs. forgiveness.  It’s instead more of ‘hierarchy and division bad, mutualism/openness/relying on each other good’.  The point is to show how Minerva’s role as a figurehead who believes he has to project strength to uphold the hope that the other humans have placed in him has worn away his ability to rely on others or to be open to alternatives they offer, leaving him with rigid and inflexible thinking.

So when Minerva learns about the monsters who don’t need to eat humans, he doesn’t see an opportunity for a better outcome - potentially even an easier outcome since he doesn’t have to make enemies of the entirety of monster society - rather he sees a threat to his plan to starve the monsters back into an animalistic state.

And if that whole subplot isn’t explicit enough, Minerva’s internalized need to project strength also results in his physical body wasting away in secret from a condition he believes to be untreatable, but the moment he finally breaks down and admits he needs help Emma is able to point to a solution, one that again doesn’t come across as a cop out because again it takes the form of another character the audience was already introduced to a long time ago.

In a story arc that the second season of the anime adaptation apparently cut entirely, wow the more I hear about anime season 2 the worse it sounds.  And after the first season was so good....

...

Anyway, I tried to pick just one thing and this post still turned into a colossal gushing word cascade, and there are so many other elements to talk about.  Like how The ‘Mothers’ and ‘Sisters’ are menacing villains with seemingly no empathy for the children, but when Sister Krona realizes she’s lost the power struggle with Isabella she leaves the kids tools to help them, and then when Mother Isabella realizes the children have escaped, she covers up the route they used in order to buy them a little extra time to get away.  It’s these little touches - just as much as the short backstories that follow them - that show us how, while they might uphold the system out of fear for their own lives, and might have rationalize their part in it in order to live with the horrible things they’re doing, the mothers and sisters don’t actually hate the children.  Knowing that makes it believable when in the end Isabella does turn on the system, and every single one of the other mothers and sisters join her.

The bit when the fighting is mostly over and she tells the Mother at the house “it’s over, now we can just love them” and the other woman breaks down crying is so sad and human, it makes me tear up thinking about it..

Like I said, all the villains are characters, not just monsters.  They all have motivations for the horrific things they do - sometimes irrational, often selfish, but not even the most unforgivable of the monsters are just evil for evil’s sake.

Again, I’m rambling.  It’s just...  I’m used to these sorts of pitch dark dystopias being, for lack of a better term, kinda fashy in their messaging?  Or at the very least deeply cynical and misanthropic and just kind of mean spirited.  And TPN is so completely the opposite of that, in so many ways.

[siberlius]

buddhist symbolism in csm

context

core ideas relevant to this topic

key parallels to chainsaw man

future of the plot

(1) context:

in japan, buddhism is one of the major religions besides shinto. japanese media tend to dress some of these ideas in christian/catholic imagery (see evangelion), which is pretty funny actually. the religious parallels may or may not be intended by fujimoto, but i think it’s worth considering it because the potential implications are quite compelling

japanese buddhism is generally considered to be under a major branch of buddhism called mahayana buddhism. i am more familiar with chinese buddhism, which is also under the same branch. there are similarities especially to the core ideas (which are what i will reference for this post), but do note that my analysis will be limited by the fact japanese buddhism has their own specialities, nuances. 

buddhism is pretty complex due to the amount of texts and cultures that have shaped its interpretation and honestly, i feel like the ideas i have discussed may be misleading due to how i simplified and interpreted things

(2) some core ideas (relevant to this topic):

all beings are stuck in a cycle of death and rebirth, also known as samsara 

being stuck in samsara is the source of our suffering (which is why samsara is also called the wheel of suffering)

by reaching nirvana, we can escape from samsara and become liberated from all suffering. 

did i say all ‘beings’? that’s right! there’s six realms of rebirth, though i think it’s more accurate to refer to it as “class of beings you can be reborn as”. which realm you get reborn in depends on your past karma. there’s the good/fortunate realms (gods, demi-gods, humans), and the bad/unfortunate realms (animals, ghosts, beings in hell). usually, the more positive your karma, the better realms you get reborn in. yet, karma is also the fuel to samsara. karma, at its core, are actions (in buddhism, cause AND effect) motivated by desire and ignorance (no matter good or bad), and these desires and ignorance perpetuate samsara. 

the concept of hell and heaven here is a little bit tricky, because they are all ‘trapped’ in this cycle of samsara. heaven and hell are not final. your death is not final. the buddhism concept of impermanence applies here in samsara. thus, the ‘best’ realm to be reborn in is to be reborn as humans, as being human gives you the motivation to try to break free from samsara, to be free from your suffering. as a human, you aren’t too complacent from the pleasures (say, like the gods in the “highest” tiered realm), and you aren’t too tortured in hell or being hunted down like the lower tiered realms. 

to reach nirvana is to be free from desires and ignorance, and thus liberated from suffering. nirvana is the finale. nirvana is constancy. a lot of people think of nirvana like a form of paradise - a bit like the idea of heaven - but i don’t think it’s consistent with the idea of becoming free from desires. your personality, the layman concept of your self, is driven by karma. by liberating yourself from this, you become something some academics refer to as a ‘non-self’. in fact there are interpretations that think that nirvana is becoming samsara - you transcend to something beyond existential. in either ways, you no longer exist in the material world. in practice, most buddhists don’t aspire to achieve nirvana, unless you have decided to become a monk. your goals (reach nirvana, or get good karma) are guided by buddha, the ultimate teacher (remember, there is no omnipotent, omnipresent, ultimate ‘being’ in buddhism. you have teachers who guide you to spiritual freedom, which is a state, not a being). thus, most simply wish to gain enough good karma (by doing good deeds) and become reborn in a better realm. 

here, mahayana buddhism is unique because they believe in the concept of bodhisattvas. bodhisattvas are beings who have reached enlightenment, but chose to stay in samsara out of compassion to help others achieve nirvana. but the reason why bodhisattvas like guanyin or kannon (in japan) are so popular is because of their kindness in helping the layman and the layman’s needs, alleviating suffering of the regular people not just the grands acts of salvation. guanyin arguably is the most important and famous bodhisattva in east asian buddhism to the point that she’s known as the goddess of mercy, representing buddhist compassion itself.

(3) key parallels to chainsaw man

by now, the parallels should be pretty clear:

the cycle of death and rebirth of devils

the devils in csm are clear parallels to the demi-gods. the demi-gods are powerful beings but aren’t necessarily good or evil. in many stories they are evil, but they are generally known for their addiction to passions and desires (like the seven sins). (i think primal fear devils could be considered a god.) all beings (even gods and demi-gods) in buddhism are subject to karma. while gods can live a long time, they are not immortal, and the main reason why gods can’t escape samsara is due to their attachment to their fortunes to the point they don’t really care about escaping samsara. the fact that devils are personifications of fears is pretty consistent with the symbolic representations of deities (gods/demigods) in buddhist stories. deities aren’t just symbolic - they are personalities subjected to the laws of karma. also all realms can interact with one another. 

finally, mr chainsaw man himself. a warped blend of a demi-god and a bodhisattva-like powers except with chainsaws and gobbling. chainsaw man saves both preys and predators by erasing devils from existence altogether. 

at first glance, makima’s is almost like the twisted version of guanyin. makima looks kind, is super powerful and almost omnipotent (guanyin was so devoted to the cause of saving everyone from samsara that she split to 11 heads and a thousand arms to reach out to those in aid), and most importantly, she actively pursues the goal of ‘saving’ people. 

interestingly, guanyin originates from Avalokitasvara, which means “sound perceiver” or “he who looks down upon sound" (i.e., the cries of sentient beings who need his help)” - sounds familiar?

my real point: makima and chainsaw man are narrative foils on what the role of a bodhisattva, or specifically, guanyin/kannon should be. makima resembles superficially, but chainsaw man is the substance.

Avalokitasvara, depending on cultures, may be portrayed as male and female, though their past life is consistently male. in china and japan, guanyin/kannon are portrayed expressly female, because she chose her gender to suit their causes (society equates compassion and mercy as feminine traits) in this essay i will explain why chainsaw man and makima are trans-

(4) future of the plot

I... actually didn’t think that much about it since personally it feels like csm is ending BUT as of now:

chainsaw man rising to a true bodhisattva as his character plot. you may be wondering - how can a bodhisattva be compassionate if they have let go of their desires? the thing is, love as a desire is specifically attaching yourself to something to achieve safety and belonging. BUT love in terms of buddhist compassion is about openness and fearlessness. again, my point on how makima and chainsaw man are narrative foils! 

makima’s goal. is it to save humanity? or to trap them in their own desires and ignorance?

csm’s concept of nirvana - what is nirvana? what is the final end? 

potentially (world building wise) - interpretations of other realms and beings?

that’s all i have for now!

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here are my personal top five pat gill videos | a 2.1k word long post where i rank and review pat gill’s videos for just way too long.

Right around the tail end of April, 2020, I fell into the rabbit hole of my current obsession; Polygon Dot Com Video Content. As a consequence of this was being introduced to the phenomenon of Pat Gill. A dire consequence of that consequence was me slowly, deeply, irrevocably, finding myself attracted to this marionette of a man. So, I enjoy his content and I think he’s hot and that combined with the fact that some of my friends bully me over that latter fact has inspired me to do this: rank my personal favorite Pat Gill videos in a post that’s entirely too long.

Before I get straight into the rankings, I need to explain my process. 

First, I needed to narrow my scope. Polygon has a lot of videos. Polygon has a lot of videos with Pat Gill in them. If I didn’t narrow my scope, I would either go bonkers yonkers or have a list that would be kilometric in length and thus miss the entire point of ranking altogether. So, for my sanity, I am excluding any videos that are a part of a Polygon video series. This means no Overboard, no Gill and Gilbert, no Video Game Theatre, etc. If I included these, I would cry. I do not want to cry over Polygon Dot Com Video Producer Pat Gill.

Second, I need a criteria. If I just ranked videos with no system, I would find myself endlessly rearranging my list based on whatever thought comes out on top in my mind at the given moment. I am a disorganized person, so I need rules. I have decided that I will rank Pat Gill videos using the EEEH criteria. 

Entertainment. Do I smile, watching the video? Do I chortle? Am I filled with the embarrassing urge to show this video to my sister and derive glee from her laughing at the exact same moment I laughed? Entertainment is key.

Education. Did I come out of this video knowing something I originally did not know? More importantly, was I engaged in the learning process? I come from a family of teachers, so I have high standards when it comes to education. If I am to learn, I must learn well.

Exaltation. This is a bit of an oddball criteria, but it is important to me. The word “exalted” is defined as “elevated in rank, character, or status.” This criteria refers to how good it is at exalting, elevating, pulling me out of a depressive episode. That is to say I’ve been in a depressive episode for the past month and whether or not the video made me stop crying and brush my teeth is essential. Polygon video content has been integral to my serotonin production lately, and thus the video’s ability of acting as an audiovisual antidepressant for me factors into the rankings.

[BONUS POINTS] Hotness. How Hot Is Pat Gill In It? I felt bad, morally, ranking videos based on how good looking I thought Pat Gill was in it---because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that, and people don’t exist to be beautiful, they just are, and I agree---so I’m relegating this criteria as a bonus point. Standard is 0, because he’s always hot in my mind, but he gets plus points if he is exemplary in the hotness department.

The maximum score for each of these criteria is 5 points, making the perfect score a 15, but because of the bonus points, a 20 is, hypothetically, possible. 

With that out of the way, let me dive right into it. 

5. The fastest interview ever with Ben Schwartz from Sonic the Hedgehog

Entertainment: 5 Education: 2 Exaltation: 2 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 11

Pat Gill is a good interviewer, he’s engaging and fun and keeps the interview interesting, but this interview is particularly special because it seems that, and let me quote Youtube user AudreyN who left a comment on this video stating “ben schwartz consumed all seven chaos emeralds prior to this interview.” Pat Gill and Ben Schwartz’s dynamic is amazing, and by “dynamic” I do mean “Ben Schwartz absolutely just fucking dunking on Pat Gill for 14 entire minutes.” and it is glorious.

For Entertainment this scores a solid 5. Quite honestly the funniest interview I’ve ever watched in my entire life. Just the sheer beauty in the exchange [Pat] “You would use Sonic’s power to gaslight me?” [Ben] “Just you.” In terms of Education, I guess I did learn a bunch of things about the Sonic movie that I didn’t know before, but the avenue by which it was portrayed in was not exactly the most engaging, more like I was absorbing it via watching two experts discuss on a webinar. I would have given just 1 point to Education but I made it 2 because of the wonderful knowledge that Pat Gill can draw a pretty good Sonic in a few seconds. When it comes to Exaltation, I must admit that while this video got quite a few laughs out of me, it didn’t make me want to get out of bed and take a shower. 

BONUS: Pat is +2 hot in it. His short hair makes him look very handsome. He’s a spiffy boy, in this video. Very, very good.  

4. Pat Will Not Tweet at Nintendo This Week Because He is Resting at Home — PLEASE RETWEET, Episode 12 

Entertainment: 5 Education: 0 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +1 Total Score: 11

I know I’m breaking a rule I set for myself a few paragraphs earlier by including an episode of Please Retweet, which counts as a video series, but this is my post and I can do whatever I want. More importantly, this video is so fucking funny to me, it feels like it would be a crime not to put it in this list. 

Solid 5 out of 5 for entertainment. Pat Gill, alone in his apartment, drinking six cans of what I think is beer silently while the intro music plays. That scene in itself should win an Oscar. Sadly, a solid 0 for Education, because I learn nothing in this video except for the fact that Pat Gill is the type of person to put out a coaster and then just completely not use it. I quantify things as educational if I can maybe answer a trivia question with them, and unfortunately, this fact does not pass that test. In terms of Exaltation, seeing Pat Gill lie down on the floor next to his cat made me get out of bed to do the same with my dog, and with myself thusly out of my bed cocoon of sadness, I was able to actually complete tasks on the day I watched this video. Perfect 5.

BONUS: Pat is +1 hot in this because there’s something very beautiful about him being a little bit miserable. However, I do miss his beard when I watch this video. It is one of my favorite things about him, and it is not present here.

3. Pat and Simone Play Human: Fall Flat

Entertainment: 5 Education: 1 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: 0 Total Score: 11

I very much enjoy Polygon’s gameplay streams. I often play them in the background while I’m doing other stuff like doodling or origami, but this stream is special. It is special because of the moment at 24:00 when Pat Gill, in game, swings a stereo into a glass window, shattering it, while saying, “Actually, y’know what? Let’s talk about trauma.” and then proceeds to tell a horrible and embarrassing story from his childhood where he had to do a rap about Ancient Egypt. 

5 points for Entertainment. This is partly because of Pat’s tragic childhood story about the Egypt Rap (and, segue just to point out 33:22 the incredible moment where you can hear Pat’s feral panic when Simone finds the lyrics to the Egypt Rap) but also because Pat and Simone just talking to each other is so deeply entertaining to me in a very comfy way. I’m starved for human interaction, in this quarantime, okay. Let me enjoy listening to other people have conversations while playing video games. Education scores a 1 because, again, nothing in this video will let me answer a trivia question, however it does get 1 point and not a 0 because the Egypt Rap’s lyrics are in the comments and I did end up learning stuff about Ancient Egypt that I didn’t know. A perfect 5 for Exaltation because this video showed me that talking about trauma can actually be cathartic, given that you’re trashing a video game living room at the same time, and I think that message of not bottling up your experiences really helped me, in these trying times.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for the entirety of this episode, so he scores the standard 0. I’m sure he was hot. We just couldn’t see him.  

2. Why Bloodborne and Muppets are the same thing

Entertainment: 4 Education: 4 Exaltation: 3 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 12

Ah yes, one of Pat’s “x is y because of z” videos. He’s made a number of these and they’re all very good but this one is my favorite among them and earns a spot on this list because 1) I think puppets are cool and 2) I fucking love monsters. 

This video scores a 4 on Entertainment, just shy of perfect, because as funny as it is, it also gives me the vibe like I am being lectured by a professor who’s just a little bit off the shits. And we all know that lectures are supposed to be taken seriously. Which brings us to Education, which also scores a 4. I learned a lot in this video! Watching Pat Gill explain to me that children’s puppets and these horrifying viddy game monsters use the same character principles in different ways is not only very educational but is also explained in a streamline and easy to understand manner that I WISH some of the shitty professors at my old university could emulate. As for Exaltation, while this video did give me enough energy to have a meal, I did eventually end up back in bed for the night at 8pm crying myself to sleep, thinking “I’m like the slime scholar. Used to be a scholar. Now they’re slime.” 

BONUS: Pat Gill is +2 hot here. He’s rockin that basic ass monochromatic aesthetic and I love his look dearly. 

1. Preparing for Big Boy Season in Red Dead Redemption 2 

Entertainment: 5 Education: 3 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +3 Total Score: 16

Here we are. My favorite non video series Pat Gill video. The video where Pat Gill tries to make Red Dead Redemption 2 protagonist, Arthur Morgan, large. 

Perfect fucking 5 for Entertainment, which I’m sure many may find odd. Afterall, this video is told in a serious investigative tone reminiscent of Vox’s videos on current issues. But that’s the glory of it. The complete and utter ‘playing it straight and serious’ for a ridiculous issue in a video game. It is high tier comedy in a subtle, understated way that sings to my comedy loving heart in a melody so lovely, so wonderful, that it urged me to give this video 5 points for Entertainment. It scores 3 on Education, because I have never played Red Dead Redemption 2, nor will I ever, but now I know things about it. The information was also relayed to me in a very interesting style, via something like a crime procedural, and thus it was engaging for me to absorb all this new knowledge. Exaltation scores a perfect 5 because of this video’s beautiful end about existential smallness. No joke, but hearing Pat Gill say “Our bigness isn’t measured in pounds, but in the impact we have on the people with whom we shared the world.” deadass made me want to talk to my friends again after conversationally isolating myself for 3 days. Preparing for Big Boy Season has a special place in my heart. And there it will stay.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for most of the video but he does appear for like 15 seconds in the middle of it, and guess what. He’s hot. +3 hotness. Good beardage, good hair, all in all, good Pat Gill. 

So there you have it. My five favorite Pat Gill videos. If you read this whole thing, holy shit. You’re welcome, I guess.

[femmeharringrove]

take these broken wings

(brief assault mention)

Steve Harrington has the most beautiful wings the world had ever seen, as far as Billy is concerned. And Billy is an expert in this sort of thing.

Because Billy Hargrove has the second most beautiful pair of wings the world – they resemble the wings of a scarlet macaw, sort of. His scapulars and primaries are switched, though, the feathers closer to his back a deep azure while his primaries match the brilliant red of his marginal coverts. His secondaries are mostly that same blue as his softer scapulars, save for the line of emerald just under the gold plumes of his secondary coverts. It’s a sight, the bright swirl of colors, and as if he needs any reason more to brag about them, they’re big.

When he was little, his mother used to laugh as her poor baby would stumble over his long wings. She used to take him to the beach, let him feel the saltwater air in his feathers as he lifted his wings into the breeze. Just as she taught him to surf along the coast, she taught him to fly. Her wings were small for an adult, though not by much, but it didn’t affect her aerial skill one bit. Billy can still see how she sliced through the pale blue sky, impossible to miss with her swirl of colors just like the boy’s. And like Lilian Hargrove, Billy was once a spectacular flyer, charming plenty of girls, and a few guys, with his speed and agility with a promise that his wings weren’t the only thing capable of moving so fast.

“You know what they say about big wings,” he liked to say, a mischievous gleam in his winking eyes. He used the line on Steve exactly once and ended up spending the next five minutes torn between huffing and pouting at the other man, and genuinely worrying that five minutes of continued laughter might end up sending the giggling goober to an early grave.

He didn’t get to wow the brunette with his agility and skill, however. Two years before he ever heard the word Hawkins, a drunken Neil made sure his son would never put on such a gaudy show ever again. The bones in a wing were easy to break thanks to their porous build, and Billy was already known for being a high-flying daredevil; the doctor never thought twice when Neil brought the bruised teenager in with a clean break in his left ulnar, a messier break in his metacarpus, and a dislocated phalanx. The phalanx never set properly, and neither the ulnar. By the time Billy got to Indiana, his left wing was angled weird, and his speed and agility both were shot. Billy rarely flew in Indiana, but he didn’t have to take to the sky to earn his rank among the social elite.

Because Steve, his only source of competition for the top of the social chain, Steve’s wings were small.

In truth, they’re almost underdeveloped in size, and the first time Billy saw them he snorted, which led to Tommy poking fun at them for a solid ten minutes.

But then, in basketball practice, while Billy plastered himself right up against those brown feathers, the sun just managed to catch on his primaries and Billy was stunned long enough for Steve’s shoulder to smack into his jaw and make him bite his tongue.

Because in the sunlight, Billy realized they were golden.

Or, not completely gold. The best comparison Billy can draw is to a golden eagle, with their varying shades of brown and the added golden flames coloring the tips of their wings. Steve’s feathers follow no actual pattern, a dark coffee secondary nestled right up against a more chestnut feather. And while plenty of them have golden tips, most of his feathers are speckled with golden moles, much like his skin. They’re almost impossible to spot unless he’s sunning, but Billy’s gotten good at spotting them, actively looks for the variety of color there.

But Billy couldn’t tell him back then, so he took every opportunity to insult the stunning plumage while strutting around Hawkins High like a damn peacock, massive ruby wings drawing plenty of attention. He fluffed them up when chatting up the ladies, allowing them to pet the marginals and masking his uncomfortable grimace with an easy smile. Sometimes he liked to crowd into Harrington’s space, spreading his wings wide so the other couldn’t get by while he spat his taunts for the day. Steve’s eyes always stared at the deep red softness of his feathers, but he never dared touch. As much as he regrets it now, the shorter man tugged on speckled primaries more often than he should have, if only to see Steve’s wings flutter violently and tuck in closer to his body. The blonde liked to think he just enjoyed watching Harrington suffer. The little voice in his head liked to whisper that there was a far more dangerous reason for his teasing.

Either way, before Billy knew he loved Steve, he knew he loved those wings, even if he teased them mercilessly. They were graceful, a little messy, but if his eagle assumption was right, then Steve would be one hell of a sight up in the sky.

If he wasn’t such a dumbass, maybe he would have gotten a chance to see it while they were in school. But after shoving the taller guy around and beating the snot out of him an absolutely livid Max growled that he’d managed to snap Steve’s right radius.Steve had been unable to fly the rest of the school year.

The only time he ever saw Steve fly was just after the older boy graduated, outside of the mall – and he wasn’t really flying, more hovering as his strange gaggle of kids demanded to see how many of them he could carry in the air. The answer was three, Billy learned.

Steve knew he could actually grab all six, if he had to. Steve’s capable of a lot when under pressure.

His wings are an odd cross between his father’s golden eagle brown and gold, and his mother’s Italian sparrow rainbow of browns. They took after Misses Harrington’s smaller size, something his father often took pride in teasing the boy for, but as a child he zipped through the air like a hummingbird, never able to keep still very long. Even now, his wings often flutter and fuss, like they’re itching for flight.

They are, they always are, but he can’t just fly off like he used to.

In spite of the teasing, Steve always loved his feathers. It was mostly because of his nonna, her nimble fingers preening and stroking his downy feathers for hours when he was a child. “These are special wings, passeroto mio. They are a treasure, do not ever forget that.” Steve promised he wouldn’t.

But Billy Hargrove and his gaudy personality and gaudier wings had him second-guessing himself. He fell in love quickly with the mesmerizing red and blue, and idly found himself wondering almost all the time if Billy could like his feathers half as much as he liked his. Most people didn’t, he knew, and he’d always been okay with that, but Billy was the first person he found himself wanting to see his wings for the treasure they were.

Judging from the way Billy tugged at them, he decided early that the answer to his burning question was a resounding no.

He liked Billy, except for when he’d grab his feathers and tug like that, like his father did sometimes when he wanted Steve to stop moving or when he was particularly angry. He really didn’t like Billy when he snapped a bone in one of his wings, but he figured at least that would cure him of his unbearable crush, and for a time it did. After that night at the Byers, Steve rarely thought about the boy – not that he had much of a choice, because he suddenly found himself the single mother to a hoard of unruly children and their unruly feathers. His days were occupied with chartering them around, buying them whatever they wanted, and, most importantly, preening their disastrous feathers every now and again.

Steve was maybe the best preener in the state of Indiana. He could do it in his sleep, his fingers deft and gentle and altogether perfect for the job. By the end of a preening day, the Harrington mansion usually had a rainbow of colored feathers floating around, from the sleek black of Eleven’s crow feathers to the green and yellow of Dustin’s lovebird appendages. Even Nancy still came by, her speckled kestrel feathers mingling among the rest of the party’s. Sometimes, she asked if she could return the favor; Steve always tucked his messy wings in close before quietly rejecting the offer.

The entire time they dated, Nancy never touched Steve’s wings. In fact, no one that knew Steve could say they saw anyone touch the soft feathers. As good as he was at preening, his own wings were a disaster of crooked primaries and messy scapulars. He let Tommy preen him once, just after his nonna’s death, but it had felt so intensely intimate that he’d panicked and never let another person do it again. It was common knowledge that wings were a bit of an erogenous zone for many, but for Steve it was, and still is something bigger than that. For years, only his grandmother touched them, if anyone else was going to do it then he needed to feel as safe with them as he’d felt with her.

In the almost six years after her death, nobody qualified in his mind.

But that hadn’t mattered in July, when he and Robin got stuck trying to convince a bunch of Soviet spies that they only sold ice cream for a living. Both had quite a few feathers tortuously picked off, but that was far more bearable in Steve’s mind than the way the apparent general in charge of their interrogation stroked along his scapulars and the undersides of his secondaries, muttering in broken English about how he’d get this little songbird singing. It felt wrong, he didn’t like the tone of the man’s voice, and he was positive he’d never felt more violated in his life, but It was a scenario he’s since pushed back into the box of other memories labeled ‘DO NOT OPEN’ stored in the basement of his brain.

When assault and slow torture didn’t get anything out of him, the Soviets decided to break a few bones, pop a few sockets just so. Tore a few muscles in the process.

Robin couldn’t fly for months after.

Steve isn’t going to fly again, no matter how much his wings flutter in anticipation.

It breaks Billy’s heart sometimes, watching Steve watch the sky with a wistful expression. But between random fights with other boys, previous run-ins with the Upside Down, and a plethora of sports injuries, his muscles aren’t willing to sustain flight without worse injury. He can try, in theory, but Steve isn’t willing to put himself through that sort of hope when the risk of failure is so large.

“I’ve done my share of flying anyway,” he told Billy one night, when their friendship was new and uncertain. “It sucks, but I’ll live, yeah?” At the time, Billy couldn’t fly either. Billy couldn’t do much, his body was still finishing the process of putting itself back together again after being possessed and almost destroyed by a monster from another dimension.

“Yeah,” he whispered in reply, trying to sound casual as he grabbed Steve’s hand and squeezed.

He was in the hospital for months, his wings cramped and confined to his bed as he re-learned how to talk, how to walk, how to be Billy Hargrove. He was pretty sure all his feathers would have just fallen off if not for Max in those difficult months.

Max, who owed him absolutely nothing after the years of shit he’d put her through. He’d almost killed her friends on more than one occasion, yelled and fought and hurt her at every turn, and yet she visited him dutifully every day, brought books for him to read and chatted to fill the silence for a little while. Her wings, sharp black with the bright freckles of a European starling, would flutter about anxiously whenever she came by, especially when she began trying to preen his dull wings.

He fought her every attempt until a particularly bad day when Billy was just too tired to fight. Even as he growled and hissed, she tucked herself behind him on that hospital bed and spent hours arranging and re-arranging the scarlets and blues and greens and yellows. Billy was surprised to find it wasn’t a terrible situation.

In fact, he loved it.

So he harassed Max into preening his wings every time she showed up, and eventually began preening her himself. It provided the pair a chance to start over, really, and even as he continued snarking and snapping at her after finally being released, there was a clear fondness each now held for the other. It was nice. Billy hadn’t had a true familial connection in a very long time, he’d missed it – not that he’d ever be telling Max that.

Besides, he didn’t need to be so lovey and affectionate on Max, she gets enough of it from Steve.

Max likes to say she’s the one responsible for their friendship, even if Dustin and Will try to contest her claim. Billy doesn’t particularly care, because regardless of who started the idea, all six of the little gremlins came together to force the men into hanging out, and if they hadn’t then Billy never would have learned that Steve could make a huge dish of lasagna from scratch, including the noodles. He never would have learned that Steve liked to play guitar, bouncing around like a basketball and narrowly avoiding catastrophic injury as he avoided desk edges and walls with his hips and wings, strumming and singing like he was the leader of some rock band. He never would have learned that Steve could crochet and knit like a pro, or that crocheting is actually a great way to channel his anger instead of beating the shit out of something.

Most importantly, he never would have learned that Steve Harrington is the kind of sap who admitted to having crushes by dancing them around the kitchen while singing about his feelings, his voice muffled against Billy’s curls as he pressed his face into the top of the shorter man’s head to hide his furious blushing.

This relationship, this apparent romance is new and more fragile than anything Billy’s ever had, and he knows he’d go to the grave to protect it. They’ve hardly been together three months, but it’s been the best three months of his life. Steve’s a damn cat, always crawling into his lap to curl up under his coffee wings and sleep, or to just straddle his boyfriend’s lap and cover Billy’s entire face and neck with kisses for no reason. Steve’s affection is overwhelming, it’s everything he’s been missing. Billy can’t get enough of it.

Which is why they’re hiding in Steve’s room, the six-person party of rat children downstairs accompanied tonight by Steve’s apparent seventh child Erica.

“Actually,” Steve grinned when Billy commented on the extra kid, “I have eight. You just haven’t met Holly. You’d love her, trust me.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Mike and Max countered almost completely in sync. Later they’ll learn they’re wrong, but at the time Steve ended up nearly choking with the force of his giggles as Billy’s feathers puffed up while he glared at them.

They’re playing some game or another downstairs, or there’s a board game out on the table at least. From the sounds of it the only game they’re about to play is ‘can we have an all-out war without breaking anything in the expensive Harrington living room’ which is, by far, the most anxiety-inducing game Billy’s ever seen. Steve hates it too, but he’s hardly paying attention, too busy breathing out pretty sighs while the blonde’s mouth nips and sucks and licks at every mole he can find on Steve’s pale skin – he sucks a light mark over a binary system of moles just on the underside of his boyfriend’s jaw and is pleasantly rewarded with a sound more substantial than a sigh. Steve’s long fingers tangle in his hair, tug on blonde curls, and his lips whine Billy’s name in a half-hearted attempt to get the former lifeguard to stop.

Billy, the menace he is, continues on to a dark mole at the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder, tongue sliding over the soft flesh before his teeth bite down. Steve hisses above him and tugs on his hair a little harder. Then his fingers are sliding down to his neck, playing with the hair on Billy’s nape, grasping his shoulders tight.

“Bill,” he groans. But then Steve’s tone changes into something more urgent and important. “Billy, hang, hang on.” Billy really, really doesn’t want to, but he stops and lifts his head up so that he can meet Steve’s blown eyes.

“What’s up, pretty boy?” Steve takes a minute to find his words, brows furrowing before he spits it out.

“I, uh, I wanna – can I touch them? Your wings?”

Steve’s hands have expertly avoided Billy’s wings for the entirety of their friendship, and the first few months of their relationship. Billy can’t say he’s noticed before.

But now, right now as he blinks in the face of the other man’s wide-eyed, anticipating stare, he’s all too aware of it. Billy frowns.

“You don’t gotta ask, baby,” he insists. He can feel Steve’s hands fiddling with one another behind his neck.

“Well, yeah, maybe, but you don’t like it when people touch them.” Steve sits back slightly, closer to Billy’s knees than his hips as he rushes his reasoning. “Like, I used to see people touching them all the time and you always got so stiff, and I get it, I don’t like when people touch mine without asking, and I don’t ever, ever want to make you feel uncomfortable, Billabong.” His smile is sheepish, and Billy can’t breathe. “You sure it’s okay?”

Billy’s never been genuinely in love before this exact moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, Stevie, you can touch ‘em.” And of course Steve’s fingers are light as the feathers he strokes, carefully admiring the silky feel of Billy’s marginals and smiling like he’s just done the most important thing in the world. Billy can’t stop staring at his stupid face.

“They’re so soft,” he whispers. And Billy wants to continue making out with the magnificent creature in his lap, wants to mark him as his, but Steve’s got other ideas at the moment. He slides off of Billy’s thighs with practiced ease and crawls behind him. “Take off your shirt,” he orders softly, like it’s more of a polite request, but Billy doesn’t have to be looking to know Steve’s got that determined little smirk of his on his face, the kind of smirk that turns gentle requests into commands.

Billy’s happy to obey.

And he’s the last person in Steve’s little group of loved ones that learns about how talented Steve’s long, bony fingers are. He’s absolute putty in his boyfriend’s hands, quite literally purring as Steve moved through ruffled feathers with a practiced ease. And Billy didn’t need to be preened, he never goes out in public unless his wings are already in pristine condition, but there’s a sort of intimacy that comes with this sort of attention, a closeness Billy’s never willingly allowed anyone but his mother and stepsister to have with him. And truly, Billy craves that with Steve. In the plaid-coated confines of Harrington’s room, on the soft covers of his bed, he feels like his entire heart is on display, his most intimate feelings there for Steve to see. This bed is where he’s cried and yelled and whispered his fears and frustrations, he’s broken down and come undone on this mattress. And now, he’s offering another show of his trust, another part of himself he’s struggled to protect open for Steve to see – and Steve understands the significance of it. He doesn’t rush, takes his time. His fingers move methodically through the already neat feathers.

And as if that isn’t enough, as if Steve hasn’t already given him the world, he opens his mouth and absolutely praises Billy’s plumage. He coos over the bright colors, murmurs about the soft feeling, tells him he loves Billy’s wings, loves Billy. And Billy can do nothing more than struggle to stay sitting up, eyes half-closed in absolute bliss as he’s loved on in the best kind of way. His primaries tremble as Steve’s fingertips brushed against the underside of his scapulars, and he hears Steve’s intrigued hum.

“What are you up to back there, huh?” Billy’s voice is much softer than it usually ever is, and he cranes his head back to try and look at his boyfriend. He’s met with a sweet-looking grin, all teeth and crinkled eyes.

His eyes are dangerously incapable of hiding his moods and emotions, and even in their half-shut state Billy sees the playful mischief sparking in their whiskey depths.

“Nothin’ at all, Bill, m’just preening my pretty parrot of a boyfriend.” But he’s definitely not just preening, not anymore, because there’s now way Steve has any reason to preen the tiny feathers on the underside of the base of his right wing. And the delicate movement of Steve’s finger isn’t enough to actually preen anything in the first place; he’s stroking, and it forces one shuddering sigh from Billy’s lips. It must be what Steve’s looking for, because the little menace hums a pleased note at the sound, and Billy can hear the smile in his voice.

“You are incredible, Billy Hargrove,” he states. “Remind me again how on earth I got you all to myself?” His soft hand palms against the small stretch of skin between his wings, and Billy’s brain short-circuits for a moment. There’s Steve’s hum again, and Billy’s three seconds away from losing his entire mind. “Do you have any clue how stunning you are? You have any idea how much I fucking love you?” He has the audacity to scratch just so at his scapulars, and Billy’s halfway to turning around with every intention of showing Steve exactly how much he fucking loves him, but he hears the warning thunder of footsteps before he can finish, and he’s scrambling to the other side of the bed as Dustin throws the door open, already halfway through a ramble about how they didn’t mean to break the glass this time.

“ – and I told him to stop but you know Mike can’t listen for shit, and – and – oh, gross!” The kid’s whole face twists up as he covers his face with both of his hands. Behind him, Max is absolutely red and struggling to stifle her laughter, and Will desperately looks anywhere but the bed. “We’re right here, and you’re trying to debauch our babysitter?” Billy’s jaw drops.

“Why are you little shitbrains blaming me?” he complains. “You don’t see Steve’s feather’s floating around here, do you?” Dustin somehow manages to look even more mortified, and Steve desperately tries holding back the giggles violently shaking his shoulders, his wings fluttering.

“Stop traumatizing my kids, Bill,” he manages, scooting out of bed. “I’m gonna start charging you guys when you break my cups, that’s the second this month.” Steve’s move towards the door is stopped by a strong arm wrapping around his middle, and he yelps softly as he’s tugged back into bed.

“Nu-uh. You shits broke it, you shits clean it up. Your debauched babysitter has some preening to do,” Billy grunts. Dustin squawks indignantly, and Max yanks on his arm before he can say anything.

“If we hear anything, Dustin and I are coming back!” she warns as she tugs him out of the room, Will scurrying out ahead of them as fast as possible. The door closes with a bang, and Steve dissolves into a fit of laughter as they hear the redhead’s faint call to use fucking protection.

“You’ve scarred Dustin and Will for life,” he snorts. Billy can’t help his fond smile as he settles Steve on the bed, moving to straddle his boyfriend’s hips.

“They’ll live with it. I can’t believe you just sat there and let them blame me for that.” Steve’s still laughing, his head shaking with his amusement as his hands settle on Billy’s denim-clad thighs.

His eyes shine with playful mischief as he gazes up at the shorter man. “How am I supposed to preen from this angle, huh?”

Billy’s answering grin is downright devious. “You can preen me later, birdie. I’ve got a better activity in mind,” he replies.

“Oh, really?” Steve’s lips twist into a smirk. “Does this activity involve any debauching, Hargrove?” He laughs as Billy swoops down to steal a heavy kiss from his smiling lips, large red wings obscuring them both from the rest of the world.

“You bet your sweet ass it does.”