#But still -blaming the “normal people” for “withholding information that they all know simultaneously out of nowhere”-

[onesecretperson]

I've just realized I could've probably found out if there were any Adult appropriate Halloween events or parties in my area if I bit my pride and used Facebook a bit.

I hate that all community and local business events are announced and updated only on that website.

[marithlizard]

Thoughts on RWBY v7 finale, “The Enemy of Trust”

Okay, finale, it's you and me.   I've heard some eyebrow-raising things.    Let's see what you've got.  

Neo vs JNRO!   My money's on umbrella girl, even at four to one.

Oscar's really getting along with this team.   I won't be surprised if sometime next volume they officially invite him to be the P(ine) in the reborn JNPR.

Yep, short and sweet.  She had a bit of fun there, and she was never in any danger.

I'm really appreciating the option to watch the fights at half-speed on the RT site and actually catch some of the clever moves.

Cinder's fighting style is quite different here than it was in all previous volumes. Remember the bow, the telekinetically controlled black glass shards,  the Maiden fire and the giant sword?   Right now she's leaping about acrobatically in melee with two short swords. If the face was different everyone would take this as an entirely new character.   I get that it's cool to try new things, writers, but I miss the consistency.

So she specifically despises the privileged elite of Atlas. Can't blame her for that.

Okay, consistency or not I have to admit the aerial combat is visually fantastic. Winter's gryphon and Penny charging Cinder from opposite sides, followed by  fire and ice colliding, wow.

Background music also doing its usual stellar job.

Penny says "I...disagree"  in exactly the same tone of voice Adam used, and for exactly the opposite reason.  That's a cool parallel and I'm sure it was intentional.

Oscar lagging behind out of breath. He's smaller and younger and is years behind everyone except Jaune on training, it makes sense.  Also probably not using Aura to recharge stamina like the others. 

Oooh, I knew it wasn't Nora instantly by the body language. Neo moves very distinctively, it's great.  

And she's had lots of practice in imitating the person you love at the right instant to make you hesitate. Poor Ren.

You don't normally yell "Drop your weapons!" and simultaneously open fire unless you are intending to kill rather than capture. I guess the soldiers are assuming that Huntsmen will survive any kind of damage a normal person can dish out.  Which is...not a safe assumption for Oscar I don't think.  Ugh Ironwood your stormtroopers are dumb.

Ren is crying oh no

Annnnd Neo just toddles off with the lamp. I love that short officer with short ponytail look on her.

FRIA WAKES

and she is  AWESOME

(Her eyes are the same blue as Ironwood's,  it does make you wonder. We never learned her last name. )

Ren with an understandable lack of perspective. He's thought of Huntsmen as the pinnacle of combat badassery all his life, when really it's just a benchmark  of competence along the path.   I suspect there aren't many people alive who could defeat Neo, outnumbered or not, and most of the people who can are god-tier.

Maria's kept a low profile all volume because she has no patience for the high-level strategy and arguments and politics,  she sure as hell isn't going to run grunt missions, and she'd last ten minutes in a room with the General before smacking him in the knees or possibly the nuts.  But she was ready to charge in with the logistical support the instant that arrest order went out on the net.   I just...love her.  She is the best.  

"I was supposed to protect the power of the Maiden until I was ready.  I worry I may have lost track of time...but you can tell James that I'm ready, now."    People were worried that Ironwood was holding Fria prisoner, forcing her into a sacrificial death. But the way she says that makes it very clear that she wasn't pressured.  He specifically told her when you're ready.   And he waited as long as he could.  

Ironwood apologizing to Winter with so much regret in his voice.   Look, you may hate him,  but the writers don't, that's abundantly clear.  And I don't either.  This is a classical Greek-style tragedy unfolding before us, a good person being destroyed as their inherent fatal flaw meets the worst possible circumstances for it.  

Oscar descending in the elevator, standing just like Ozpin.  That is an eerie sight.   He's going to imitate Oz as much as he can because Ironwood has been asking for Oz all along.   ...and it's going to backfire as a strategy, isn't it.

"And....whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"  "Still just me."  But you're leaning on your cane as you walk just like Ozpin did.

Someone suggested applying Blake's "embodiment of a word"  idea to all the characters, and the word I thought of at first for Oscar was innocence....but it's not, is it.  Oscar is the embodiment of sincerity.  He means every word of his offer to reconcile.  How could anyone resist?

...Apparently Ironwood can.   And I see it, I do.   If this is a chess game, then protecting the king - the relics - is ultimately the only thing that matters.  All the other pieces are expendable. Oz and Oscar and Ruby represent the opposite approach:  every piece matters, and what's most important is not to win the game but to preserve the board, to keep it all going.    

(If they'd told Ironwood all the way back in ch2 that as far as they know Salem can't be killed, would he have adjusted his perspective?   I believe he would have,  but not all the way.  There's a fundamental difference in mindset.   Lois Bujold talked in one of her books (Brothers in Arms I think) about how people are drawn to the romance of the hard choices. If you've believed all your life that hardship and painful sacrifice are necessary and inevitable, you get proudly attached to them in a way, and you tend to be skeptical, at best, of anyone who claims they can be avoided.  I've been thinking about that a lot this volume.)

Uh.

WHAT.

You were having an argument,  a heated but peaceful one.  Why would you suddenly draw your weapon and shoot a teenager off the edge of a cliff?   One who was offering no physical threat to you at all and who you could certainly have overpowered and arrested?   You arrested Watts, who was trying to kill you, nearly destroyed your kingdom, and made you nearly tear your own arm off.   Why would you murder Oscar?

You wouldn't.  This makes no sense, just like Clover and Qrow fighting each other instead of teaming up against Tyrian makes no sense.  I was hoping there'd be context in this case but there just isn't. The RWBY writers wanted dramatic scenes here and they didn't think the fans would care about anything else as long as it looked cool.

And this is new in v7, IMO.  While I've certainly had some quibbles with the writing in past volumes, I don't remember anything remotely like this.  Nothing so huge that I can't handwave or rationalize or say that it's a minor story element.   I'm a Watsonian, not a Doylist; I hate having to say that something is just plain bad writing.  

Ugh. Okay. Moving on.

That's a fast-regrowing Grimm arm.

I was expecting Penny to say "No, it's not me, it's supposed to be Winter," but she's really hesitating.  After the conversations they've had she's not sure the power should go to Winter.    There's nothing personal about it, no ambition.  Penny has been acting exactly as a Maiden should from the moment Fria first saw her, her every instinct to protect and help.

Uh, y'know, Winter, you could SHOOT CINDER during the many seconds she's writhing in helpless agony there.   You don't have to stand there and wait till she's ready to fight again.  Sigh.

That said, the sequence of Oscar falling,  power building in him and Penny,  the silver eyes etc is stunning.

(that little twirl Oscar does, like a shoujo magical girl.  cute)

holy carp there are still ten minutes left.

I don't think you're correct about fear being the common denominator, Oz, but I'll shut up and enjoy your very fine speech.

Winter makes her choice...and she's not surprised that Penny chooses differently.    Opposed to the heroes or not, I do think it's a good thing for her to stay at Ironwood's side.  Somebody sane needs to be ready to take over there sooner or later. ��

Penny getting support from Ruby and Weiss,  yay.

This can't be easy for Pietro.  He's loyally helped Ironwood for decades, and he's not exactly in good shape to live the outlaw life.

Cinder, continuing to piss off her only ally.  Despite being the antagonist in a boss fight she felt...weirdly irrelevant at the end of it.  So much so that she just quietly left when no one was looking. 

"It's gone."  Well, now that's an interestingly vague way to put things, Winter.  Are you protecting Penny?   Withholding information from your boss is, as we've seen, not something he reacts well to.

Watts has an implausibly nice cell with a beautiful view.  

I think that's a quarry Oscar has fallen into, or perhaps the outskirts of a mine.  He and Oz have a LOT to talk about and I would really love to actually see the conversation next volume, writers.  For a change. 

ooooookay yep that's a flying murder behemoth whale.   I was expecting to be reminded of FFX's Sin, but it's got a vibe more like the whale from Pinocchio.  My vote for a name is therefore Monstro.   

Someone's dressed to impress her ex.

....Hmmmmm.  You know, I didn't see an actual army of flying monkeys.  Is there one? Is it inside the whale, or in that black cloud?  Or does Salem have something else in mind?  

"Fear" does seem like a song from Oz's point of view, but I don't feel it expresses his - or their - personality.  It's not the image song I'm still waiting for.  But then, quite a  few characters still haven't gotten theirs.  

Well. I'm on board for volume 8,  hopeful the writers will make better choices, and curious to see how we're going to START a volume with an ultimate boss encounter.  That's not a thing I've seen a story do before.

[nezumiismissing]

Missing Characters Analysis Pt.2

Okay, so! It’s been a while since part 1 of this series, but I’m not giving up on it, because I had a lot of fun with the first one, and I want to explore all the other missing characters. If you missed it, here’s part 1. That being said, probably none of these are going to have the same format because of the differences between the characters and their role in the story, so in a way I suppose this isn’t a real continuation, but whatever.

For this part, we’re going to talk about Getsuyaku, who similar to Rashi, although to a lesser extent, I found to play a mostly symbolic role in the story. While he does directly interact with the characters and the story itself, and therefore has a more grounded role than Rashi, for this post at least, I’m going to focus on more of the symbolism, which means that you now get to sit through me rambling about class analysis for the next 1500 words or so. Sorry in advance.

Now the details of No.6’s class system is a discussion for another time, but I’m making it the theme of Getsuyaku’s analysis because he serves as basically the sole representation of the Lost Town residents, who occupy a position we would most likely consider working class. As a working class citizen, he is in an interesting position of existing both within the city and outside of it, in this case literally, since his job at the Correctional Facility takes him outside the wall, and he therefore has the ability to communicate, at least to an extent, between the middle class of No.6 and the impoverished West Block. Although he is a citizen of No.6, it is shown to us in several instances that he is not treated equally to other citizens, having to do unsanitary work and being given no respect by anyone other than other Lost town residents. On one hand, he is treated as being below the other citizens of No.6, not deserving rights or respect, and being basically equivalent to a West Block resident who had managed to break into the city. On the other hand, he is misunderstood by West Block residents, who believe that because he lives within the walls that he is comfortable and taken care of. This is also an internal struggle for Getsuyaku, though, as we see that he feels an obligation to continue working for the city—although whether this is out of fear or genuine appreciation for No.6 is somewhat unclear— therefore maintaining his position as “above” the West Block residents while at the same time recognizing his position within the city as lesser than other citizens and reluctantly going against it by selling things to Inukashi in order to survive and improve his own life.

The divide between “inside” and “outside” the wall is made extremely clear by most of the characters throughout the story, and yet here we see a rare (or maybe not so rare) example of someone who, for symbolic reasons, occupies both spaces. For the most part, each character in No.6 serves as a way to compare two or more different groups of people or conflicting ideas, perhaps most notably Shion in his representation of both the elite class of No.6 as well as those who have been banished from the city altogether. The importance of these comparisons is often to highlight their differences and incompatibility with one another; however, in this case we see Getsuyaku as a unifying force rather than a divisive one. By occupying both spaces simultaneously, he is able to represent both The Lost Town residents via his citizenship within No.6, as well as to a certain extent the residents of West Block who, like Getsuyaku, are forced into criminal activity as a means to basic survival. Within this dual identity, we are able to see that despite their statuses as either “inside” or “outside” the wall, these two groups are fundamentally almost the same to a great extent. The wall becomes not a great divide between those that are deserving and those who are not, but instead a thin line between barely scraping by and abject poverty that is able to be crossed at any time.

Along with the burden of simply doing undesirable work, Getsuyaku, and therefore the working class as a whole, is also forced to play a significant role in the maintaining of the system through the control of information. No.6, and most societies in general, are built upon the control of information, and the withholding of certain information from the general public. Getsuyaku’s job at the Correctional Facility necessitates that he learn what is likely otherwise classified information about No.6, whether that be the conditions under which he has to work or any suspicious materials he may find while sorting through the city's trash. While this information would clearly be useful to both regular citizens and those working against the city such as Yoming, he is obligated to withhold this information out of fear of punishment by the government, and therefore takes part in his own oppression. This is of course not a voluntary position, as his death shows us, but nonetheless an important aspect in the world building of the story.

Speaking of his death, the murder of Getsuyaku also serves as the first time that we directly see fatal violence enacted upon a regular citizen of the city. While it's clear by this point in the story that No.6 is not above murdering its own citizens, and other instances have been implied, such as the case of Yomings wife, this scene cannot be understated. Other deaths take place within predefined contexts: part of the experimentation with the bees, a direct response to going against the city, culling older people to preserve resources. Obviously none of these things are ethically justifiable, but they come with explanations that we can on some level understand for the purposes of the story. Getsuyaku’s death on the other hand comes with almost no explanation, and even from the perspective of No.6 itself, is less justified than the Manhunt. He is murdered not because the officers know he has done anything deemed to be “wrong”, but simply because they are suspicious of him, because in their minds it is easier to claim that he is to blame for the malfunctioning robots than it is to believe that it was an accident or regular breakdown. The fact that we know the circumstances of the incident don't matter in this moment because we are not in a position to make a decision about him.

Getsuyaku’s position as the first civilian casualty of the last portion of the story also serves a narrative purpose, that of a symbolic catalyst for the revolution that takes up a large portion of Volume 9. As the representation for Lost Town, we see that although other groups will be punished for disobedience, the true targets of No.6's master plan are the Lost Town citizens, the working class. Through their repression, No.6 maintains control over the baseline functioning of the city (waste management, energy production, food production, etc), as well as the vital information that is created and gathered through these industries. Because the working class is in control of these fundamental processes by virtue of being the ones working there, any disobedience on their part, no matter what the reason, is taken as a direct action against the city as a whole, even if another explanation for the incident exists. Through his death, we see that No.6, however incorrect they may be, views Getsuyaku, as well as the rest of the working class, as disposable and replaceable. To an extent, we see that this mindset has been internalized by many members of Lost Town, who, while upset at a person’s disappearance, have accepted it as a fairly normal part of their lives. In Getsuyaku’s case, however, enough of the right characters, namely Yoming, Lily, and Karan, are involved with Getsuyaku and his family that his disappearance serves as a breaking point for this internalization, indirectly resulting in many of the events of the last volume of the novels.

For those in West Block, Getsuyaku’s death serves an entirely different purpose. While it is only witnessed by a few characters, his death confirms for Inukashi what we as the reader already know, that No.6 has no issue with disposing of its own citizens if they are no longer useful. By extension, we also see that he was never really considered a citizen in the first place, but rather an unconscious tool for the maintenance of the city. Being able to see directly the cruelty of No.6 towards those living even within the city disrupts the commonly held belief of the West Block residents that the inside of No.6 is a utopia, and that it instead may be just as bad in some ways as it is outside of the walls. At least West Block doesn’t try to give off the impression of being a safe and comfortable place, right? At this point there is no hope of a better life for the West Block residents, and they are instead faced with the reality that as long as they were not born into power, they would never truly be able to gain it within the city.

So what does this mean in terms of the anime? The exclusion of Getsuyaku from the anime, while understandable given the time constraints and already rushed ending, ultimately still affects the story and our perception of how No.6 and its class system actually function. It draws a firm line between No.6 and West Block, leaving no room for the portrayal of the proximity between the working and poverty classes, and giving no opportunities for them to interact or assist each other in any way. Ultimately, it shows a picture of a world in which downward mobility only occurs to a certain extent, and that even those who have fallen or have always occupied the lowest rung of the working class will still be protected from interacting with or becoming the impoverished “others” by the government. In his absence, we do not get to really see the reality of working class life in No.6, and are therefore unable to make a significant connection to what would otherwise be an important moral center to the story. The cruelty of No.6 is still blatantly obvious, but it is never shown to have been turned directly onto its own citizens. This is starting to drift into some themes I want to explore in another post, but you get the idea. In attempting to reflect an image of our own world, No.6 as an anime fails to construct the world as it really is, with blurred lines between different “classes” of people, and instead draws strict barriers between lower classes that instead serve to reinforce the mainstream concept of a disconnect between working and poverty class people that makes them enemies rather than allies.

If you made it to the end, thanks for reading! I tried really hard to make this not about a bunch of stuff other than Getsuyaku, but he’s so wrapped up in the other aspects of the world building that I’m not really sure I succeeded in that regard. I had a lot of fun with this one though, so hopefully you enjoyed it too!

[cassiopeiassky]

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 40

Hello everyone!  I’m briefly surfacing from the pits of academic hell to bring you the next  part - not my best work, but it’s been weeks...

To all of you that left feedback/comments on the last part - I apologize for not responding, but things are really chaotic right now.  Just know that I do read each and every one of your comments *cough cough* multiple times *cough cough* and I appreciate them (and you) more than I can say.

Plot:  When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe. 

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.  

Word count: 3241

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Violence, bad guys being douchebags, more angst, physical assault, death,  mentions of blood, mentions of murder (including non-established characters & children), mentions of torture (nothing graphic),    If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie.  I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests.   Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

As softly as you can manage, you begin humming his lullaby.  

A few moments go by, and nothing bad has happened.  You can’t help yourself – your hand goes to smooth back his hair – and when he sighs, you repeat the gesture.

His mind doesn’t remember you, but his body does.  He relaxes under your touch as you continue to croon the slow melody. You stay until his breathing is deep and even; only when you’re sure that he’s sleeping peacefully are you able to make yourself go back to your room.  

The dawn of the crystal winter morning finds you seated at the table in front of window. You stare without seeing the Siberian landscape, offhandedly recognizing that your mind has started to exhibit dangerous behaviors but simultaneously unable to give a single shit.  Who cares if your mind snaps?  Or if you sink into a depression so deep you'll never be able to claw your way out of it?  

A deep sigh finds its way out of your exhausted body.  Goddammit. You have to care.  You don't want to, but you have to. It's getting harder to remember why...so you briefly allow yourself to break the compartmentalization you'd set up, and give yourself the precious luxury of thinking of Artie and Jimmy.

They're why you need to care, why you need to survive.

And Bucky.  Deep down you know that to some extent, at least, his survival depends on your own.  You'll both need the other to get through this when it's over because there’s going to be lasting damage, but you will, right?  Get through this?  Intact? Together?

Another sigh.

The lack of sleep isn't helping; you still haven't been able to sleep for more than an hour or so each night, and the naps you manage during the day when you feel just marginally safer with Mikhail watching over you aren't enough.  God, you'd kill for some fucking coffee right now, but you don't dare leave your room alone to look for it and Mikhail won't be in for at least another hour.  Mikhail has been so nice to you.  You'd meant what you said - he doesn't deserve what happened to his family.  His dad, on the other hand, sounds like a cowardly douchcanoe that deserves a pine tree enema.

Your disjointed train of thought shifts once again, and you start thinking about last night.  Bucky hit you.  He hit you.  No, he didn't.  The Soldier did.  Minor technicality, really, as neither of them were in control.  The only people to blame are the fucking Krakkens.  It could have been - should have been - much worse. Truth be told, it wasn't nearly as bad as the night Christopher assaulted you; he'd completely lost his shit in a fit of rage.  They're not the same thing, you tell yourself, not even close.

You wonder about Bucky's nightmare.  What did he see?  Was it a memory from earlier, or was he already reliving his attack on you?  The more you think about it, the more it makes sense that his subconscious is free from the effects of the triggers.  You try to focus, try to remember what you’d learned about how the conscious and subconscious are separate and how they work together yet independently of the other, but your brain just won’t cooperate. Figures.  But there’s something still nagging at you…is it possible to reach Bucky - even just in his subconscious - so early after being triggered? Would it even matter if you could?  Well, it fucking matters to you.  God, it hurt so much to leave Bucky's side...but then, it isn't really Bucky, is it? At this point, however, you're fully willing to settle for a facade.  You miss him so fucking much.

What are the odds that the Winter Soldier is a cuddler?

At the thought, a small laugh comes out and it sounds crazy even to your ears.  A tear rolls down your cheek, but instead of wiping it away you rub at your gritty eyes; it feels like your eyelids are lined with sandpaper.

A few minutes later the still quiet is broken by the soft clicks of a door opening and closing; the Soldier is up.  Your breath hitches as you hear his measured footsteps in the hall - almost the same as Bucky's but not quite.  The threats that have been constantly vocalized start echoing in your head.  Is he coming to you?  It's still Bucky's face, you could just pretend…

But no.  He doesn't pause as he passes the door to your room. You tell yourself it's for the best.

***

The morning passes agonizingly slowly; you listen carefully, but as far as you can tell the Soldier doesn't return.  Where is he?

It's mostly concern with a dash of curiosity until Mikhail comes in with your lunch.  

Something's wrong.

Mikhail avoids your eyes and is extremely quiet.  Not his normally reflective and respectful quiet, but subdued.

“Mikhail, what's wrong?” The question hangs in the air for a long minute as he focuses on arranging your lunch on the table.   When he finally turns toward you, the look on his face is enough to make you regret asking the question.  You hesitate before speaking again.  “Mikhail?  Is everything okay?”  

“I am fine, you do not need to worry about me.”  The statement is accompanied by a falsely bright smile.

He's hedging; you don't get the feeling he's lying, but rather withholding.  In fact, your intuition is screaming that there's something you should know.  You narrow your eyes.  “What's going on?”  Your heartbeat increases as an unwelcome thought occurs to you, lacing your next questions with panic.  “Is Bucky okay?  Where is he?”

He's quick to reassure you, “As far as I am aware, he is fine.”

You wait for more, but nothing comes.  “But?” There's more to this.

He sighs heavily.  “I will tell you if you really wish to know, but sometimes, solnisko, ignorance is bliss.”

“Tell me, Mikhail.”  Your impatience is starting to make you snappy.

He glances up at the camera, and you wonder if it’s from habit or if he’s weighing how much he can safely say.

“They have already begun using him.”  Mikhail avoids your eyes again, “Your Bucky - they have already given him orders, and he has complied.”

“What does that mean, Mikhail?  What’s happened?”  What the fuck is going on?!  Why does he look so unsettled?

Mikhail takes a deep breath before continuing, “Kapitan heard some rumors that some of his men were selling information to other Bratva families.  The Soldier was given the task of...uh...encouraging the guilty to confess.”

You think for a moment; the implications are nauseating.  “Bucky was told to torture them.”  You wish you could phrase it as a question, but you know better.  

He nods hesitantly. “They made us watch, told us that it would deter any future disloyalty.”  He closes his eyes at whatever awful images came to mind. “Eight men were brought in for questioning.  All but one confessed.  All but one are dead.”

“Oh, God…”  More blood on Bucky’s unwilling hands.

Mikhail nods with haunted eyes.  “They were not good men, solnishko, and they deserved to die, but this went far beyond typical torture techniques and execution.  This...this was horrific.”  

You can’t imagine what the Soldier is capable of - you don’t want to - but the idea that excessive cruelty could come from Bucky, even while activated, is almost incomprehensible.  Bucky didn’t always go into great detail when he spoke with you about his time under HYDRA’s control, but everything you could recall was about efficiency and effectively completing a job.  Even when he’d needed to ‘persuade’ someone, it wasn't cruelty for the sake of being cruel; it was a tool, a means to an end.  

Mikhail must intuit your thoughts, because he quickly continues, “The most heinous and perverse acts were not of the Soldier’s design; those were ordered by Mr. Krakken and Kapitan.”

Of course the worst of it would be their design.  Evil fuckers.  The Soldier was just following orders.  Despite the fact that Bucky will still hold himself accountable, a measure of relief floods through you.  “Where is he now?”  

“I do not know.  They were giving him instructions when we were dismissed.”  

You nod, more to yourself than anything.  Clearly they’ve begun using him, but what exactly are they using him for?

***

Dinnertime finds you at the Krakkens’ table.  Again. You’re still seated between Nicolai and Anatoliy, but instead of sitting across from you, a subdued and bruised Metzger is seated across from Anatoliy.  There is a place setting laid out, though, and you wonder who it’s for. Ugh, please don’t be Grigory.  All the men here seem to be dangerous, malicious, and scary, but that guy is fucking creepy and you really don’t want him sitting right in front of you.

So here you are, in an uncomfortable dress and pair of heels, and sporting enough makeup and hairspray to supply Captain America’s backup dancers for an entire tour.  On one hand, you’re irritated beyond belief that you had to go through the ridiculous process of getting ready to be ‘presentable’ to these jackasses.  On the other hand, you find yourself hoping desperately that you’ll get to see the Soldier, if for no other reason than to know that he is alive; at the very least you might hear about the Soldier’s whereabouts.  You haven’t seen him all day.  It shouldn’t surprise you since you don’t leave your room, but still…

Mikhail’s hand reaching over your shoulder to place a plate in front of you breaks you out of your thoughts, and you groan inwardly.  More stewed meat with potatoes and the ever-present sour cream…and are those mushrooms?  Gross.

You pick at your food as you listen intently to the conversation happening around you, although it does you no good.  For the first time since you were brought here they’re speaking Russian instead of English; Metzger looks like he’s barely keeping up.  It’s incredibly annoying (why the fuck did they want you here?!?) but the men are, thankfully, ignoring you for the most part.  

“Mr. Krakken, Kapitan,” Grigory interrupts the brothers’ laughter as he sweeps into the room, “the Asset has returned.”

“Ah yes, good, he’s right on time!  Send him in Grigory,” Nicolai turns to you with a smirk as he speaks.  

Oh.  This is why they want you here.  They want to see your reaction to whatever is coming next.

Despite knowing this, you can’t help keeping your eyes trained on the door.

“If I were you, lisichka, I do not think I would be so excited to see the Soldat.  I think you will strongly disapprove of his activities today.”  Nicolai and Metzger chuckle at Anatoliy’s comment, but you pointedly ignore him.

Your heart stutters as he walks in. Well, strut is probably more accurate. The Soldier strides with competent purpose, his booted footsteps echoing a confident promise of quick and unremorseful violence should anyone get in his way.  

A quick onceover tells you that he’s dirty, but it doesn’t seem as though he’s injured.

He approaches the table, and stands by the chair across from you.  “Komandir,” he dips his head in respect to Nicolai before repeating the gesture to Anatoliy, “Kapitan.”  His emotionless blue eyes pass over you without a moment’s hesitation, and he ignores Metzger completely; Little Frankenstein is clearly pouting.  

“Target status, Soldat?” Nicolai’s eyes narrow as he speaks.

“All targets have been eliminated, Komandir.”  The Soldier’s words are respectful, but his voice is flat and his eyes remain fixed on a spot slightly above Nicolai’s head.

“All of them?” Anatoliy’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.  “There were 14.  You had until sundown tomorrow to complete the assignment.”  

“Yes, Kapitan, all of them. It was more efficient to do complete the tasks today as the targets were all centrally located.”

You’ve been taking advantage of the moment and drinking him in; it’s Bucky standing in front of you, but it’s not.  The same sculpted physique, the same sharp jaw, the same mahogany hair. Not the same expression or carriage, though, and definitely not the same eyes; they seem to have lost their color and have faded to a flat, muddy gray.  It’s as if he lost his soul.

It’s only then that you realize that the Soldier’s gear has a tacky, stained look to it, and there’s something matting his hair.

A sickening realization hits you, and the dots connect; it’s blood.  He’s covered in blood.

He was out killing people on the Krakkens’ command.

Oh God, Bucky…

Your skin is suddenly crawling, and you turn to see Nicolai smirking at you; the fucker’s eyes are practically sparkling with glee.  “He slaughtered 14 people for me today; Bratva members that were getting in my way…and their families.”  He turns toward the Soldier with a sickening grin.  “You made it look as though they were fighting among each other and retaliating, yes?”

“Yes, Komandir.  I moved the body of the first target to the final target’s location, as you directed, and the executions were completed to your specifications.  Nothing will be traced back to you.”  You can’t help but stare as the Soldier speaks - he talks blandly, as though he’s discussing a grocery list and not killing and death.  

“Wonderful!  Please, Soldat, have a seat and eat with us.  You have certainly earned your dinner tonight.” Nicolai gestures grandly to the spot across from you as the Soldier moves to comply, and you turn to glare at the hideously cruel, green-eyed demon sitting to your left.  His malice knows no bounds.  “Milaya moya, do not look at me like that.  This is the man you love, sitting across from you, is it not?  Are you not happy to dine with him, to see that he is alive and well?”  He pauses, eyebrows raised and lips tilted in an amused smile, “Or do you no longer care for him, knowing what he has done today?”

You swallow thickly, willing yourself to keep quiet and not speak any words that would bring punishment to either you or Bucky, and turn your attention back to your mostly untouched food. After an uncomfortable moment, you glance back up to see both Nicolai and Anatoliy glaring at you, and malicious glee in Metzger’s eyes.

“I believe my brother asked you a question.  Do not be rude, lisichka.”  You barely mange to repress your sigh; Anatoliy is such a condescending ass.

Lifting your chin, you turn toward Nicolai.  Without blinking or hesitation, you state what should be blatantly obvious, “Yes, Nicolai, I still love him.”

He appears to be mildly amused.  “But he is a murderer, a monster.”

It takes effort, but a sweet smile accompanies your reply. “No Nicolai, he isn’t a monster.  You are.”

“Stupid bitch,” Anatoliy mutters as he grabs you roughly by your upper arm and drags you out of your chair. You can’t help but steal a glimpse at the Soldier; he doesn’t so much as spare a glance your way as he begins to eat.

“Brother, do not bother - I think she is suffering enough knowing that her love has executed a total of 21 people today.  Besides, you still need to discipline our servant.”  Your blood runs cold as Anatoliy’s eyes light up and focus on someone behind you.  Mikhail is the only other one in here right now.

“Right…” Anatoliy’s fingers slip from your arm as he pushes you aside to walk up to Mikhail, who is obediently standing at his station with his back to the wall.  He trembles but lifts his chin, patiently and almost defiantly waiting for the first strike.  There’s nothing you can do to help him.

***

Mikhail’s screams follow you to bed; he’s alive, thank God, but you’re pretty sure he’s got a broken arm, two black eyes, broken ribs, and maybe some missing teeth.

Someone had been paying attention when Mikhail had told you about the torture earlier this morning, and that the men that had been executed weren’t good men and deserved to die. Apparently, even though those men were accused of betraying their Kapitan, it was an unforgivable sin to speak badly of them.  Mikhail paid for his words with a beating that left him quivering and bleeding in front of the dining room fireplace before Anatoliy called in Grigory and had him drag Mikhail to his room.  You weren’t allowed to follow although you wanted to make sure he was okay; instead they made you sit at the table while they had the Soldier give a full, detailed report of the tasks he’d completed.  

His mission included families…and three children. He'd been tasked with killing children, for fucks sake, and he'd...completed...his mission. It was nothing short of petrifying, and you’d kept your gaze locked on your plate to keep Bucky from seeing the horror on your face and the tears in your eyes.  

He’d remember this eventually, and you didn’t want to add to his misery.

***

Even though you were awake and waiting for it, the tortured screams still startle you and, as before, the pull to go to him is strong.  Despite what he’s done today - or is it yesterday? What time is it? - despite the lives taken by his hands, despite the blood that covers him both figuratively and literally, you can’t seem to help yourself.  Bucky’s still in there, somewhere, you’re sure of it.  Besides, you repeat to yourself for the thousandth time, you love him.  All of him.  Even this version of him.  What he did today - it's not his fault. It's not.

Logically, you can’t help but think that you’re incredibly fucked up.  Your heart doesn’t care, though.  How could it?  It's Bucky.

Going to him is easier tonight - probably because your courage is bolstered by your previous success. You didn't get hurt last night, and what if there's a way to help his subconscious break through the programming? Not that it would do either of you any good in this particular situation - you'll actually be less safe when he breaks though because they'll use you to guarantee his willing compliance.

The door is unlocked, and as you step closer you can see that he's curled up on his side, almost like a child trying to make himself as small as possible to avoid being seen by the boogeyman. The twitching of his bare shoulder above the covers, softly bathed in the pale moonlight, tells you that he's still asleep.

You're able to calm him without him waking, and he's just so familiar, so Bucky in this moment, that you decide to do one of the stupidest things imaginable. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or the way your mind is teetering on the fine edge of stability, maybe it was the horrors you'd heard, maybe it was seeing Mikhail being viciously attacked weeks - you're not sure. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

You know you're playing with fire, but you're willing to get burned for the sake of keeping warm.

So you lie down next to him.

You carefully arrange yourself so you're mirroring his position behind him, not quite brave enough to risk waking him by putting your arms around him but still close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body and to feel the slight shifts as he breathes.

You're just going to lie here for a minute or five, not long. Just long enough to pretend, long enough to maybe fool your mind into sleeping when you get back to your room. Just long enough for your heart to stop its ever-present ache, even if just for a minute.

A gentle sigh escapes as your body reacts to Bucky's proximity, and you feel yourself relax into the mattress.

You'll just close your eyes and lie here for a minute.

...only

...a

...minute...

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[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: February 2020

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of February 2020 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

The issue with the Tory government being stuffed with morons and sociopaths is that it leads to solutions such as their new immigration policy which equates anyone earning less than £24k a year with being an “unskilled worker” so therefore not eligible for a visa...when in reality that is unreasonably raising the bar, which becomes immediately obvious when you realise that the majority of entry-level positions within the NHS are paid less than that per annum.  But fret not, they also have a solution in the sudden gap of 8m in the workforce, namely having the “economically inactive” fill the gap...even though that figure is primarily made up by the elderly, the terminally ill, and students who are currently working on that “low skilled” issue whose post-graduation salaries are estimated at around £18k a year 

Unelected bureaucrat/organ grinder Dominic Cummings had a genius idea for proven liar Boris Johnson’s first cabinet reshuffle: eliminate anyone who might possibly have any semblance of an idea of their own (plus Esther McVey) and install a bunch of unthinking drones into the cabinet who will all follow his specific instructions...which sounds a lot like communism, doesn’t it?

We should almost thank Andrew Sabitsky for proving exactly what Dominic Cummings’ directive of “misfits and weirdos” really meant, namely that what Cummings wanted was somebody whose track record includes saying that black people are intellectually and genetically inferior on multiple occasions, calling for forced contraception for the lower classes and attending eugenics conferences, and that’s somebody who fits the profile of being appointed special advisor to the Prime Minister

In the latest example of The Department of Work and Pensions appearing to exist for the sole purpose of committing an ideological genocide on the lower classes, it emerged that they had been destroying reports of former claimants who committed suicide after their benefits were stopped - and had been doing so since at least 2015

Has anyone noticed that proven liar Boris Johnson didn't show up in Yorkshire with a mop and bucket when it was flooded again?  Or did anyone notice that, when the official line was given that he didn't want to cause a media frenzy by showing up and instead wanted to put his feet up at a lakeside mansion to do...whatever it was that he was doing, it appears to have forgotten that he didn't mind showing up in flood-hit areas with the resulting media frenzy when there was an election campaign going on?

The estate of George Orwell will want a word with Lee Cain following his role in proven liar Boris Johnson’s “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others” moment where he divided journalists into two groups before a Downing Street briefing, before telling journalists from one of the groups - who were from the Mirror, Independent, Huffington Post and PoliticsHome, that they should leave as they are not welcome

In the latest example of Question Time being an echo chamber for the far-right, they bussed in two-time National Front candidate Sherri Bothwell to sit front and centre of the audience and be the person to ask the first question of the show...if going off on a rant about how we should close our borders constitutes a “question” - although it does constitute a blatant violation of editorial guidelines

Smirking cretin Priti Patel demonstrated her statesmanlike credentials when facing a question about forced deportations in the House of Commons...by getting the hell out of the chamber before she could even hear the full question, presumably because staying in the chamber would potentially involve having to face scrutiny or criticism and that’s not how the Tories work

It’s no surprise that the FBPE mob responded to the first anniversary of the formation of The Independent Hashtag Group for Hashtag Change UK Hashtag Ltd by hand-wringing about how a potential force for good in British politics failed, because if they didn’t they might have to accept that their blindly believing in one “centrist” neoliberal careerist after another, from Chuka Umunna to Jo Swinson to Jess Phillips and numerous other examples aside, played a large part in why man of the people/proven liar Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson is currently Prime Minister

Good to see the Chinese government coming up with the best possible solution to the Super Magic Chinese Megaflu of DEATH epidemic by...adding World War Z to the ever-growing list of books banned by the Chinese government.  I don’t know why, though, it's not like it says Xi Jinping looks like Winnie the Pooh or anything...

Of course the English media responded to the Irish election result, where the incumbent Fine Gael lost out to a combination of Sinn Fein gaining the most first-choice votes and Fianna Fail getting the most second choice votes by reporting why this was the case...oh who am I kidding, of course they bloody didn’t, they only looked at through the usual English-centric prism and assumed that Britait was the reason why Fine Gael lost out, completely ignoring there was a unique consensus between all three parties that Britait is A Bad Idea that has also led the bigheaded gobshites from across the water to treat the irish like some second-class citizens who should shut up and fall in line behind their imperialistic masters

Once again the point-missers of the internet seem to think that you can use suicide rates as the basis for a game of Top Trumps, as there was a depressingly vocal section who responded to Caroline Flack’s suicide by comparing the number of suicides related to Love Island to the number related to The Jeremy Kyle Show as if it’s a football match and Love Island is currently “winning” 3-2

It was a busy day for smirking cretin Priti Patel as she had to simultaneously deny *deep breath* that MI5 have been actively withholding sensitive information from her as they see her as a threat to national security (and have grounds to see her as one...), that she hasn’t been bullying Home Office staff since getting her feet under the desk, that she didn’t force anyone out of the Home Office because they wouldn’t blindly follow every insane directive she could think of and it’s just a coincidence that attempts were made to remove Sir Philip Rutnam from the department...at least until Rutnam called her a liar, that is

Self-appointed voice of all Jewish football fans David Baddiel was as predictable as he was vocal in his disgust at the Oxford English Dictionary changing the definition of the word “Yid” to include Tottenham fans, leading to him howling about how Spurs fans have no right to reclaim the word while pretending that he doesn’t know the reason why Spurs have reclaimed the word, namely their regularly being serenaded with chants about Auschwitz, gas chambers and the Holocaust by Chelsea fans since the 1970s due to the club’s Jewish identity.  Chelsea fans such as...David Baddiel

Littlest Englander contender Douglas Carswell gleefully took to Twitter on February 1st to say the UK hadn’t collapsed into a pit after leaving the EU...meaning that either he doesn't understand that the UK is still in the EU as part of a transition period, or he knows this but knows that his followers don’t know this so thinks doing a victory lap during the warm-ups is normal

You would think that The Jewish Chronicle admitting that they fabricated stories of Louise Ellman being an antisemite and having to pay her damages would have gained more traction, but by complete coincidence they were being drowned out by David Baddiel and Stephen Pollard coincidentally throwing out a lot of think pieces about how Tottenham fans are the Third Reich unlike those nice, reasonable Chelsea supporters... 

Of course Blizzard were going to have to issue a statement addressing the launch of Warcraft 3: Reforged going so well that the game has a record Metacritic user score of 0.5 at one point, but Blizzard being Blizzard the “apology” was more along the lines of saying they were sorry that fans didn’t get the game they wanted, in other words trying to transfer blame onto them that the game shown in the teasers bore no resemblance to those in the finished game while pretending that there hasn’t been a cascade of criticism about their new policy that says any user-created mods will become Blizzard’s own property, in other words admit fault...which they never will

The latest non-logic from the BBC states that, if a Tory MP refuses to appear on any of their programming, they will cancel the appearance of whichever Labour MP that was also booked, in other words responding to the Dominic Cummings issuing a media blackout by silencing the Opposition in his stead

What better advertisement for Australian policing than Mark Thompson taking a moment to forget that he was Detective Inspector for the murders of Hannah Baxter and her children when her estranged husband set their car on fire before killing himself and instead decided to suggest that maybe she nagged him too much and that’s what led to the tragedy

Becoming a homeopathic mentalist hasn't done Gwyneth Paltrow any favours, considering that the second that there was so much as a whiff of criticism about he waffling about coffee enemas solving all ills on her Netflix show she responded by howling about how valid criticism from qualified health professionals is “clickbait” and not, say, valid criticism from qualified health professionals

Nobody seemed to explain to Dele Alli that posting a video on social media cracking jokes about coronavirus isn't a good idea as people are going to see it, and more than anything else spend a good couple of days flooding Tottenham’s Twitter feed with “DID YOU KNOW DELE ALLI MADE A RACIST POST ON SOCIAL MEDIA???” more times than anyone is willing to count

What a great piece of advice Ninja gave to everyone, namely that if you lose in a video game the only sane and rational response is to get angry and, if you don’t, this makes you “weak”

So much for “Mad” Mike Hughes and his attempt to prove that the earth is flat by using a homemade steam-powered rocket, as instead he made a reasonably-sized crater in the San Bernardino desert which proved that the earth is pretty goddamn hard when you plow into it from several thousand feet in the air while going at an estimated 350mp

Good to see that Jess Phillips is handling her failure in the Labour leadership race well, with her mouthing off at an event commemorating female journalists by harrumphing that it’s a pity that Labour has never had a female leader...while both Rebecca Long-Bailey and Lisa Nandy remain in the leadership contest

And finally, a little more puffed up than usual, is Donald Trump and his sociopathic response to the Republicans allowing him to slither out from the sights of impeachment which was rewarded by him bringing down the axe on anyone who put the party (or, you know, country) ahead of him, which somehow looks less deranged than him mouthing off about Parasite winning Best Picture at the oscars because something something trade deal