#First time I do a chapter analysis I hope it turned out well

[thelunarfairy]

JSHK Chapter 116 - Brief Analysis.

An analysis made by request.

Tsukasa's empty gaze always makes me associate his image with the entity. When he allows it to take possession of his body at times, if I can deduce that.

Even if the two cohabit in the same body, the entity still allows him to be aware of his actions. But, it seems that here, specifically in these moments, only the entity is in control.

Even though at times it seems like the boy is still here, reacting.

It made me wonder if the entity was mimicking him here. It tends to do that.

It's good to remember that the entity's voice is apparently the same as Tsukasa's, Nene and Kou said they were hearing a child's voice when they were in the red house, but Tsukasa was talking to the entity.

It's interesting, even if the entity can imitate him, it's still so artificial at times that you can tell there's "something wrong"

Now something that has always intrigued me here is about the victims. The victim who was in the current reality reacted in a similar way to those in the old reality.

I wonder, what is the real objective of this? What does the entity gain by taking full control of someone's body? What is this ability for anyway? We have obvious answers, but I want the main objective.

Why does he need so many to control? Something related to his power? If there are many "sacrifices" (if I can call it that, because technically they don't die), does he use the energy of the person he possesses for some purpose?

What is the entity's objective?

And yet, the entity shares the body with Tsukasa, the most rational one, to achieve greater goals.

He possesses his victims, but do they do anything other than randomly attack other people to possess them as well?

In the current reality, without that ritual, possession happens faster than in the old reality. The Kannagis remained sane for many years until they were completely possessed, but in the current reality, this is not the case.

It is as if in the old reality the entity's powers had already been weakened, or it was trapped somewhere.

Tsukasa simply touched Kou's hand so that it began to spread, and he was quickly possessed, as if the entity was freer to act here.

Kako said that it was a remnant of what that God once was, so he was probably already sealed in some way at that time.

It seems that the entity is stronger here, to the point that it can single-handedly possess and even temporarily change the shape of Tsukasa's body.

Tsukasa's patterns follow the same as the previous one, the "holes" that we see with some consistency. Not only in his body but in Hanako's as well.

But in the other reality, they weren't really holes, they were circular spots.

Here in the current reality you can actually see a depth, there's a hole there.

Does this still reflect on the strength that the entity has in both realities?

Well, this chapter wasn't about Tsukasa, exactly, it was about the entity and the power it has now.

Perhaps to reflect a little on how Amane was responsible for making the entity strong in this way.

A contrast between an Amane who fears Tsukasa because he doesn't believe he is the real one

and the Amane who encourages girls to perform a ritual to summon Tsukasa, knowing that they will be possessed.

So, Amane knows about the entity here.

Furthermore, we see that the entity lives in a parallel version of reality. Something we knew in the old reality, where we saw Tsukasa walking through corridors with dark windows and stained walls.

Something similar to the red house.

So here we confirm the connection between the two places.

And

This caught my attention, Mitsuba didn't feel that his hand was affected. Something similar to what Aoi felt when she touched the dark spot on the far shore.

This made me wonder, are those spots that were on the far shore connected to the entity as well?

Similar effects.

The difference is that the spots on the far shore tend to destroy, while the entity is there to possess.

Hmm… but I still feel a connection between the two things

Why didn't the entity do anything here?

hmmmmmmm…..

But before I forget

Boooy???!!!!! Hitting a 4 year old kiiid????!!!!! I know, he was defending himself, but look at the force with which he hits the kid, it looks like there's hatred here.It wasn't a defensive punch, even Mitsuba was scared.

An observation I've made before in another post, the Mitsuba of this reality never died, but he has the memories of Mitsuba 2, which is purely supernatural.

It means that Yako was right. That is still Mitsuba.

And well, we see Tsukasa playing around trying to find the two. Apparently the possessions do not have a direct connection with the entity.

The possessed girl who saw Mitsuba and Kou could have told the entity their location, even without having to communicate, but it seems that this is not something that happens.

Tsukasa's game, the ritual itself, reminds me a bit of the urban legend called Hitori Kakurenbo, it does not have all the details, but it may have been used as a reference.

And now…

Tsukasa calling out to Amane….

Was he there?

For a moment I thought this scene was a representation of Tsukasa calling out to Amane but never being answered by him.

But the look he gave Kou after he called out to Tsukasa. As if he was "getting in the way" of something.

That look from Tsukasa is the same one he uses in situations like these, when someone is getting in his way when he's doing something important. And, of course, he's about to retaliate.

I would love to put a picture of his expression here, but we've reached the limit of images.

But if you want a reference, remember the moment he looks at Mirai when she interrupts the conversation between him and Amane.

It's almost the same.

Which convinced me that something related to Amane was there… but what exactly? Or Amane himself…

We don't know his whereabouts, but he wouldn't be too far from Tsukasa.

I won't go into this too much now because I don't have many conclusive thoughts about it. Few clues.

About the Yorishiro, serving as its usual role, break/destroy it, and everything will return to normal.

So, I imagine that in the other reality, if they remove all the yorishiros, everything will return to normal.

The problem is…

what is "normal" in the old reality?

Is it living among the supernaturals that devoured humans?

Hmm…….

Kou being possessed by Tsukasa was something I already expected, I would be surprised if it was the other way around.

Teru and Akane appearing to help them is also something I expected.

HOWEVER, I didn't imagine that I would see such a surprised face from Tsukasa. When Teru appeared, Kou/Tsukasa's eyes widened, didn't he expect Teru to appear?

Interesting, it's not every day that you see a surprised Tsukasa.

And well, the entity preferred to walk away, so it probably doesn't want to deal with him now, even though it is strong, it really has no interest in getting involved with him.

Even if it was to kill Teru. Even in the old reality, Tsukasa didn't pay attention to Teru even when they were side by side.

That always made me curious.

Why does the entity/Tsukasa ignore him?

We don't even see any desire to attack Teru. It's intriguing. Something similar with Hanako, who even when he's in conflict with Teru, doesn't seriously try to kill him. Hanako usually just defends himself.

Hmm……

Strange……

And finally, Teru and Akane saying that Tsukasa was different, another reinforcement to convince us that that wasn't Tsukasa.

The same logic as Mitsuba.

Is he the real one, or not?

I don't know about you, but for me that's Tsukasa. In the same way that Mitsuba is still Mitsuba.

This is a story that shows that a person can be many things at the same time. The same good person can be bad when necessary.

Something that reminds me of Hanako.

I like how they always insist on the theme "are you really you?"

And if people will continue to love him when they find out that they can be both versions.

"Do you love all sides of me?"

Hmm……

But if that's the case, why couldn't Kako "get rid" of Tsukasa?

That's the golden question.

I like to think that Tsukasa predicted this and is just having fun.

Tsukasa knows what he's doing, he'll wait for the right moment to destroy Number One's Yorishiro.

[jeongharine]

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⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, light smut

⚝ notes: the one where jeon wonwoo is your nerdy math tutor. but he’s unexpectedly hot. and you’re his friend’s sister. obviously. (part ii)

“a pc bang?” “yes she’s always there,” says hoshi, while munching down his sandwich.

“but i can’t teach her there-” “of course you can’t, but you’ll find her there. it’s the one on the left around the corner,”

“now, remind me why i am doing this,” “because you’re my friend and i’m fantastic at being one,”

wonwoo just gulps down his apple juice, looking at the time on his phone.

“you should change this narrative, it’s getting boring,” “wonu, i just need you to do me this favour because if she doesn’t pass this class it’ll be a problem, okay?”

a sigh. “yes, that’s fine. but only for this class okay?” hoshi grins, all teeth “you’re the best,”

“yeah.. i better be going then, i hope she’s a well-mannered student otherw-” wonwoo says, setting off.

“oh.. about that..” “what?” he stops.

“nothing, she listens well,” hoshi says, scratching the back of his head.

x

she listens well when she wants to, he should have said.

not that this a surprise for wonwoo, knowing her brother. but damn, this girl is getting on his nerves.

“okay y/n, let me be clear. your brother begged me to give you lessons, so now please can we go to the library?”

“nu-uh, i have a tournament here this afternoon. we can do another day,” you crack your fingers and re-position your chair.

“see, maybe this is why you’re not getting through this class. you can do the tournament another day, it’s more important to study matrix systems to pass the exam than gaming,”

“boooooring, i will do that tonight if i feel like it okay? i don’t need your-” you turn your chair around to face him. “...help...”

since when your brother’s friends were this handsome. holy fuck, with that cap on before you couldn’t see anything and maybe he should have kept it on for your sanity. fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. fuckity fuck.

you can see that he is deeply annoyed by your behaviour, probably he’s used to people who take academic life very seriously. nah, he’s friend with hoshi so. you scoff a laugh.

and he’s just there, looking at you, waiting for an answer.

or maybe to beg you.

“but on second thoughts...” you begin to say, “we can come to an agreement..” “that is?” he shifts in his position.

“we game for about an hour, because you game and i can see that just by looking at your face. and then, we can look at the first two chapters of maths analysis. i think this we’ll do, yes.” you grin widely.

and he hates to admit that the grinning suits you best.

wonwoo promised hoshi that he would have at least gotten through the matrix systems today with you, but here he is. without a fucking clue of what to do.

and you are just looking at him smiling prettily, as if you absolutely don’t know how charming and good-looking you are.

so wonwoo just sighs, and turns his head to glance at the pc screen near him.

even his side profile is pretty, you think to yourself.

“fine. but at least let’s play some battlegrounds.”

“can’t promise you anything,” you say pleasantly, eyes creasing in a glittering smile that suddenly makes wonwoo skittish.

x

“do you want to fuck my brains out?”

the air in his little dorm becomes unbearably stuffy all of a sudden but you refuse to let it show, after finally voicing the thoughts that were possessing your head for the past few weeks.

wonwoo turns to face you, looking far more collected. you never would have thought it would all come to a head like this in his room on a monday afternoon. but here you are, feeling a little light headed but inexplicably brave.

“i mean,” you say. “doesn’t every girl on campus you know want you to fuck their brains out?” “that you have to tell me, i don’t think i can give you an answer,” he says, piling up the books on his desk.

he starts to drum his long fingers on the cover of the statistics textbook for a good minute, eyes focused on the dusty windowsill while he is chewing on the inside of his cheek.

and it takes you a second to really make that sink in: wonwoo is restless. he is hanging on your next words.

“so, are you going to say something or you will make me wait here all afternoon?”

you smile. and he hates how his palpitations go up by a notch.

“neither. just knowing that you rubbed one out to the thought of me is closure enough to me.” he clearly tenses up. “who says i have?”

you close your textbook with a thud. “oh, don’t be embarrassed wonu. we’ve all been there at one point or another.”

he’s at the brink of being disgusted with himself for getting a hard on when you just used his nickname like that, but despite it all his heart still leaps up into his throat when you sit up from his bed and collect your bag.

“you touched yourself thinking of me?”

you look at him with one hand on the door handle and wonwoo swears his vision blurs slightly as you grin at him like that.

“you say it like you’re surprised.”

there is no build up, no easing you into the uncharted waters. he kisses open the seam of your mouth without any hesitation, the heat of your tongue against his. it feels so harsh and erotic, so completely unlike the wonwoo you just got to know.

so polite and so pleasant.

but now his hands are on you. and you haven’t had the time to realize your eyes were closed until his hands come up to palm around your waist, searching for skin while you whine against him.

your brain is foggy with the taste of him. he pulls back just as you starts to sway in his arms.

“you don’t even know...” he traces up your back. “..what you do to me, uhm?” you gulp, lips all wet.

the muskiness of him makes your head spin fast, especially when he leaves soft kisses on the skin behind your ear. his mouth is so hypnotic, every move perfectly placed.

“wonwoo,” you stammer, not knowing what else to say. your voice has gone croaky and his hand is venturing up your sweater now, not looking like it would stop any time soon.

your breath catches in your throat when wonwoo trails his fingertips over your clothed breast, dancing across it before brushing the underside. you expected his touches to be harsh, sharp. but they are slow, feather-light. practiced.

his chest heaving like he’s just run a mile, the skin of his stomach hard and hot under your fingers from where you shoved his t-shirt up. his lips are smooth when you inch up to kiss him, gently by his cupid’s bow just to make him grunt. wonwoo’s hands curl around your wrists gently, pampering you with kisses for a couple of minutes before pulling away.

“fuck me,” you whisper. and then, because he has to double take like he didn’t quite hear you right. “fuck me wonwoo, please.”

“please. please, wonu. i’m begging.”

“y/n…” wonwoo growls, because he is really close to pop a blood vessel when you sound all whiny and shameless like that.

“i don’t care if someone will hear us,” you murmur against his mouth before pressing it there for a short kiss. you proceed to trail wet pecks all over his jaw and neck, so that he has to close his eyes with a soft sigh. 

“fuck,” he whispers, “you’re really begging me to fuck you here when your brother could come back any minute,” wonwoo says, kissing you.

it’s getting difficult for you to respond when his hand ventures down to undo your jeans though, mouth hanging open in pleasure while he nips at your bottom lip before pushing you back down on his bed. 

“you have to be extra quiet, okay?” he huffs. and there is something wonderfully satisfying for wonwoo to see you like this, underneath him and all putty in his hands.

“wonu,” you whine again, accepting the soft kiss he presses on your lips before he turns you over and positions you how he wants: on your knees, ass up, face pushed into a pillow to muffle your moans.

“you’re so impatient,” he chuckles behind you, but it sounds so soft. fond, even. he pecks your ear swiftly while you listen to him sliding down your jeans and undies and prepare himself, your heart thudding in anticipation. you’re so thrilled you barely register the embarrassment and awkwardness of being left to wait like this, propped up and ready for him to fuck you stupid. and you gasp when you finally feel his erection against your weeping slit, hot and everything you want.

he keeps grinding against your slick folds. “wonwoo,” you whimper, because his tip keeps slipping in and that alone is making you gush. you push your hips back, tears blurring your sight with how desperately you want him inside you. “please.”

he chuckles softly, leaning over to kiss your shoulder before finally pushing into you.

x

“so, i assume the lessons are going well since you two see each other three times a week now,” hoshi says, voice muffled by the noodles he’s slurping.

his eyes are set on wonwoo’s face, lost in the gimbap in front of him.

because if wonwoo has to be real honest, the lessons are going really well, yes. but also his dating life.

and how can he say that to hoshi... ‘oh yeah, she’s really smart hosh and also a fucking star at giving head!’

in his defence, wonwoo would probably never get over the fact that he has succeded in pulling someone like you. he suddenly turns pink thinking about your pretty smile and your prettier laugh. the glint in your eyes when gaming together and the concentrated face you make when trying to understand math concepts that even he has difficulties in teaching. you clinging onto his arm, the late night ramen runs at the convenience store and your honeyed sighs and moans when you’re in the private of your own.

so yeah, he doesn’t really know where to start with this.

“wonu-yah?” hoshi hisses, and suddenly wonwoo gulps when his friend is holding his stare in a vice grip.

“we’re fucking hosh,” he admits timidly, and hoshi starts swearing.

[yumeka-sxf]

I've been waiting to see Yor's epiphany chapter in the anime and it did not disappoint! I felt like analyzing more than usual because I loved this episode so much~ 💖

I hope that any anime-only viewers who at this point still had the opinion that Yor's just ditzy/submissive, one-dimensional, or whatever negative traits associated with her, have changed their minds. Throughout the cruise arc we've seen so many sides of her character: how she's struggling to understand the exact reason why she's taking on these dangerous assignments when her original reason for doing it (supporting Yuri) no longer exists, how her internal desire to seek her own happiness - live a peaceful life like Olka - is at constant war with her diligence to complete her mission, her yearning to be with Loid and Anya and how sad she looks when she has to tell herself that they're just a cover-up family and she'll have to leave them without a word if anything drastic happens, and how much more confident she is when doing something she excels at - assassinating - yet still retaining her kind and polite demeanor (Unlike Twilight, who dons the mask of Loid Forger, Yor Forger is not a mask for Thorn Princess, at least not in terms of personality. So everything she says as Thorn Princess can be interpreted as her true feelings, including the now two times she's hesitated during fights because of the thought of having to leave the Forgers).

And, in the moment where she's facing death right in the eye, all the doubts she's had since getting this assignment culminate, not only causing the samurai assassin to get the upper hand, but causing her to take a deep, introspective look into her reason for fighting...if it's not for the same reason as the other assassins, what is it?

What's even more amazing is that these things about her character did not come out of nowhere just for the sake of a flashy climax. We saw in previous episodes that not only does she understands that being in the Forger family makes her happy, but most importantly, how she's lived her life only thinking of the happiness of others above her own. And what's most tragic is that, upon finally realizing that her original reason for being an assassin is gone (since Yuri no longer needs support) she's ready to die then and there...until she remembers Olka's words about wanting to live a peaceful life, which in turn makes her remember her core reason for becoming an assassin was to not only support Yuri, but to make the world he lives in all the more peaceful by eliminating the villains in it.

Despite how naive Yor is about many things (due to her upbringing), she's certainly not ignorant about the needless tragedies that exist in the world. And here is where she makes her decision to keep doing her assassinating, not because she enjoys killing people, but because the result of it will make the world a better place...because now, she has even more people whose happiness she desires to protect.

Even if she sacrifice her own happiness by leaving the Forgers, that's not as important to her as preventing tragedy from befalling her loved ones, or the world in general. And these thoughts are so similar to Twilight's reasons for becoming a spy! Coincidently, as Yor has these thoughts, she thinks of how Loid complimented this aspect of her personality way back when they first met...and the thought that the man who she trusts and respects so much would approve of her decision, gives her the final push to keep on going (I love that they reanimated this scene too and didn't just use the exact frames from episode 2).

So yeah, if anyone who wasn't sure of how much depth Yor's character has, I hope this episode shed a lot of light! This is the right way to make a character both cute/sweet but also a total badass who's strong on the outside as well as the inside.

(I will probably reword a lot of this for my upcoming Twiyor analysis posts but I couldn't wait until then, lol).

[smellrain]

in which: Jack has liked you for years, but so far you have been oblivious to his feelings. Will the guide he made with the help of his teammate make you fall for him? Or will it end up destroying your friendship?

tags: written, mention of use of alcohol, slight angst. (masterlist for this au) (my masterlist) <prev. part: prologue I next part: ch. 2>

notes: [4.3k] First of all: thank you for your kind words after the prologue yesterday! Very happy that so many of you liked it. There is an analysis post about this chapter here that you might want to check out after! I hope you enjoy :) & come tell me how you liked it!!!

It had been a long day at work for you. The data your boss had assigned you had taken you a lot longer to work on than you’d expected, which meant that you actually, genuinely missed your last lecture of the day. You had texted a barely-even-friend that attended the same elective about her notes but you hadn't gotten a text back so far. 

Standing in front of your door now, you leaned the crown of your head against the outside of it and took a deep breath in. You had missed the key hole not once but twice now and the anger that welled up inside of you was completely unwarranted, so you knew you needed to mentally take at least one step back. 

Four seconds in, seven hold, eight out. In and out. You blinked once and the dark of the wood was an unwelcome reminder of reality. Still, unlocked the door, this time succeeding on the first try. 

The hallway was quiet, but you had expected as much. One of your flatmates had a nightshift at the clinic she was working at while the other was sleeping over at her boyfriends. The blissful silence you had looked forward to this morning seemed suffocating now. 

It didn’t matter. It was fine like this, you were fine.

After turning on the kitchen light, you walked to your room, put down your bag and fell down onto your bed, face first. The scratchy fabric of your bedcover was not nearly as nice as the sheets you had dreamed of all day long. 

For a while you let your eyes fall closed, not asleep, but resting nonetheless. You just wanted to rinse the day off of you, but you were too hungry to even think about showering. 

With a groan you peeled yourself off your bed, sat at the edge of your mattress while an inexplicable urge to cry welled up inside of you. Your day had been really shitty and your were really, really hungry.

But you got up anyway and walked towards the light in the kitchen that shone through through the space of the door to your room.

The music you’d put on in the background helped but it didn’t quite scratch that itch for conversation, for company. When you saw your phone light up from where you had left it on the counter, you hoped it might be the classmate you had texted. 

You rinsed off your hands to see who had messaged you. 

Jack (worst Hughes brother): hey what r you doing tn? You: currently making dinner why what did you do what do you need Jack (worst Hughes brother): nothing  wait why did you assume i did/need sth anyways: can i come over soon?

The shower. You still had to shower, but soon for Jack usually meant at least half an hour. It  should be enough time and besides it was just Jack, no reason to put in more effort than necessary. 

You: because you always text me when you need my help sure, I might be eating by then, have you eaten? Jack (worst Hughes brother): I did like 5min ago wait no ignore that, you’re telling me I could have had some of yours??? jkjk see you soon

You liked the last message and turned the heat off your stove. Shower first, you reminded yourself, even as you mourned the loss of the start of your dinner that you had been frying on the stove. 

When he knocked at your door you were still sitting at the small kitchen table that could barely seat two people. “It’s open,” you said, loudly. 

From the sounds you could hear him open and close the door, take off his shoes and leave his bag in the hallway. When he finally came into your view, you couldn’t help but smile. Strange how that worked, considering you had almost cried half an hour ago. Food really worked miracles sometimes. But then again he had always had that kind of effect on you, making you smile despite yourself. 

“That’s not very safe of you,” he had said but he was already smiling, “having your door unlocked.”

“Hey you, fancy seeing you here.”

There was a warm feeling curling itself around your ribcage at the look at him, “hey yourself. I left it open because I knew you were coming over, don’t worry about it.”

“Alright,” he conceded, “did you watch the game yesterday?”

“‘Course I did,” you said, eyes following him as he took a glass from the cabinets and filled it up. There was something intimate about that, the ease he carried himself with, him knowing where to find your glassware and feeling comfortable enough to do so while carrying on with the conversation. 

There was something in you that ached at the feeling, at having someone that comes home to you. At having someone that just feels that comfortable with you, that you live your life alongside with. 

It’s not like you were lonely, you had wonderful flatmates and good friends, but there was just something different about this feeling, about this longing. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, inexplicable as always.

“Good, otherwise I would have felt stupid after my goal.”

You had seen the new ritual he did sometimes that he had been asked about by the media sometimes. He had done it a few times now, more often over this past year. He was approached by his teammates first, but then he was still for a bit, putting his hand on his chest and raising it up after, usually waving once. The warmth that had seeped into your bones crept up to your face, “you did that for me?”

The one time he talked to an interviewer about it, he had said it was a new good luck charm he was trying out.

Because of the small table the two of you sat close and his knee kept bumping into yours, but you hardly paid it any mind. It was comforting, having him here, this close in the low light of the kitchen, cradling one of your glasses in his hands. 

Admitting something he hadn’t told anyone else.

“Yeah, of course, had to show my appreciation for my number one fan somehow.”

You laughed a little, “you are such an idiot.”

The smile he gave you in return crinkled up the skin at the corner of his eyes and you wanted to trace that fold with your thumb. What were you even thinking? “I know.”

So you just swatted his shoulder and got up to wash your dish. “Did you guys go out and celebrate?”

Jack turned in his seat, his body facing your back from where he was still sitting at the table, “yeah. It was a really small bar in the middle of nowhere, Nico said he didn’t want to be recognised, despite the win.”

You hummed in response. The constant scrutiny must have been affecting them all after these past few games. “Cool. Did it actually work or,” you trailed off, not really sure how to finish your question. 

“Sort of, I mean we took a few pictures when we came in but it was a lot better than usual.”

“I’m glad then,” you said and turned back around to face him, “I’m glad nothing too exciting happened.”

At the word exciting his expression morphed into something odd. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered but he wasn’t meeting your eyes anymore. 

“You can tell me, you know you can,” you reminded him, now getting closer to him again. You were usually able to get out every last secret of his if you just asked the right questions. 

“I know,” he assured you, now pulling you a little closer by your hip and resting his hand there. He had always been touchy like that, arms slung over your shoulders or around your waist, hands holding your wrist to pull you through crowds, thumbs circling your ankle when you rested your legs in his lap. 

“But it’s really nothing, I just got a little drunk,” he assured you, but you didn’t really buy it. 

Still, you had no real reason to press, knowing that it just made him close up further. He would end up telling you, just not now. “Okay.”

The two of you went back to your room soon after, deciding to watch a movie. You didn’t tell him that you were really, genuinely tired, because you knew he could tell. He always could, somehow, even if you yourself weren’t all that aware of it. Funny how that worked.

You sat down first and then patted the spot next to you on the bed, but for a split second you saw him hesitate. That hurt, just a bit because you had thought that the two of you were close enough for it to not matter anymore. 

Still, he leaned against the headboard next to you, his shoulder softly knocking against yours and your worries disappeared at that. You must have imagined it.

“Any preferences?”

“Ratatouille,” you said immediately, not even knowing where that request came from. 

He smiled, “I do like a girl that knows what she wants.”

For some reason you blushed at that, at the barely even there implication of being his. You really were going insane today. “Is that okay for you?”

“Sure,” he said, “let's watch the rat be a better cook than the two of us combined.”

You typed the website and clicked play on your screen and settled your laptop down between the two of you, one knee on each side of the bottom of it. 

You were suddenly keenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even own a tv, that you were watching a movie from your laptop when he could be at home, watching it on a screen that was at least double the size of this.

It was a stupid thought, so you brushed it off. He was a professional athlete, you were a college student. There was something fundamentally different about your current lives, as intertwined as they were. 

The movie started soon after, so you pushed all of that to the back of your mind. At first the two of you ran a semi-steady commentary about what was going on but soon after you were both too engrossed in the story to think about anything fun to say. 

When a sharp sound came from the screen you realised that you had your eyes closed. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open again. It must have been for a few minutes, at least because you weren't sure what was going on anymore. 

“Tired?” he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

You let your forehead fall against his shoulder, this time on purpose. It was a welcome contrast to a few hours ago when you did the same thing against your front door. His shoulder was softer because of his sweatshirt and he smelled nice. Like the shampoo he used, like his laundry detergent. You wondered when that smell had become intrinsically his and not someone else's' like a friend of yours that used the same deodorant. 

You kind of wanted to drown in it, but you held yourself afloat anyway. He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his. The two of you weren’t like that.

“Had a hard day at work,” you mumbled, a little more tired now than you’d been just moments ago. His presence did that to you, calmed you down when you didn’t even know you were high to begin with. 

He lowered your shoulder a bit which made it more comfortable for you to rest your head on it. “You could have said no, you know that, right?”

But you had wanted to see him once you had seen his message. “I know.”

“Good,” he answered, as if it was as simple as that and remained quiet after that. 

You tried to turn your focus back to the movie, you really did, but before you knew it your eyelids were drooping again. 

Then you were woken up again, this time by Jack. 

The movie must have finished in the meantime because he had moved his arm, closing your laptop. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, trying to form a coherent thought but the only thing on your mind was the warmth of him next to you, the dream that just barely slipped out of your grasp. 

“Sorry,” you said.

He turned to you, surprised. “What for? If anything I should apologise, I kept watching even when you were tired.”

“You know I don't mind that,” you said. “I just wasn’t very good company today. Sorry.”

Jack knocked his shoulder against you with a little more purpose so you  turned to him. “Nope, none of that. I don’t mind, I got to see you, which is all I wanted anyway.”

How could he just say something like that? As if words like these didn’t bore themselves under your skin, living there forever, etching themselves into the white of your bones.

This casually, as if it didn’t just make your heart flutter the same way it did when you were eighteen, back when you had loved him. Still, in your barely illuminated room, late at night you let yourself linger. Let yourself pretend that his words held meaning. 

Let yourself pretend that the two of you were different.

You thought about the thousands of times you must have seen him just like this, in the dark, looking back at you. 

It was a weird memory that came to you, just then.

Back when the two of you had first met you had been crushing hard. It wasn’t really surprising, now looking back. You had never really gotten a lot of attention by boys growing up, so when he went out of his way to talk to you, you really had no choice but to fall for him. 

Liking him had become addicting. 

You could still remember the moment you thought he might like you back and the very same moment you knew it wasn’t, probably ever, going to work out between the two of you.

It was at a party, after you had just graduated. You had just come out of the bathroom, alone because your friend was finally, finally talking to the guy she liked. 

Then you picked up a friend’s voice somewhere down the corner, most likely from the kitchen. “C’mon your turn now. Who are you crushing on,” Aaron had said. They must still be playing a weird mixture of truth or dare and some other game you had already forgotten the name of.

Your mind immediately went to Jack, the way his hand had brushed yours when he had gotten you a drink earlier that night. 

“I don't?” Jack answered, slightly laughing, but there was an air of unease in his voice that you couldn’t help but notice. 

“C’mon, Jack don’t be like that,” someone else interjected, and suddenly you were a lot more invested in the conversation than just a moment ago. It was always like that when it was about him. 

“There are always so many girls throwing themselves at you, surely you want one of them,” you could hear the other guy’s jealousy from miles away but you weren’t sure if the others picked up on it too. 

“I’m serious, I barely have time for my friends already, let alone a girlfriend.” Jack said and there was this tiny spark of hope rising in your chest. Maybe you could change that. Maybe you could be the exception. 

“True,” Aaron agreed calmer than usual. You thought he might be noticing the tension waving off of the other guy. 

“There is no shame in admitting it,” the other guy doubled down, “what about that one girl? Short, brunette, on the track and field club.”

Oh god, he was describing your friend, the one you had just left with her crush. “Nah, wait I think she has a boyfriend, but what about her friend, the one that Kevin hangs out with.”

You. Shit, he was talking about you. Did you really want to hear Jack’s response? What if he said he didn’t like you? But what if he did?

“She is my friend too, you know,” Jack said, “but she is pretty, I guess.”

He guesses? That kind of really stung. You knew that there was nothing all that memorable about you, but it’s not like you were ugly. A thousand different insecurities that you thought you had worked through rose to the surface and you didn’t have the strength to push them back down. 

You had to escape, now, without being noticed and without listening to anything more. Still, your ear couldn’t help but pick up on the rest even as you pushed past that guy that sat behind you in math.

“Jack, don’t be like that,” the other guy insisted, “don’t you want to go up to her and just fuck her? I mean her ass-”

Humiliation. For some reason you felt humiliated and violated. You knew about locker room talk, but you had never wanted to be part of it. Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes and suddenly you could feel every single person that had touched any part of you today, suddenly questioning if it really was accidental. 

You had to get out, now. The static in your ear was loud and the bass vibrating through the soles of your feet seemed to turn it up even more. You had run away, texting the friend you came with some kind of bullshit excuse for leaving. 

The asphalt outside on the sidewalk was cold, but you sat down on it anyway. You just wanted to cry. Everything seemed so overwhelming and important all at once and you had no idea how to deal with all of it. 

Soon you were leaving high school for good, your friends were moving all across the country, you were so fucking lonely and the guy you had been crushing on for a better part of a year didn’t even think that you were worthy to look at. 

You drew your legs closer to your body and folded yourself up as much as possible. Growing up seemed scary all of a sudden. There was that one Lorde lyric that said that too, that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Suddenly people were streaming out of the house, all at once. You wiped your tears, looking up at what was happening. In the stream of people you couldn’t make out any of your friends.

Then you heard your name being called. It was Kevin, still standing at his door. He held Jack at the others shirt collar, as if he was holding up a particularly unruly cat that had gotten in trouble again. 

Your eyes must not have been red because when you came closer neither boy commented on it. “Get him home,” Kevin said and dumped a heap of Jack right in front of you. 

Jack glared back at where Kevin disappeared back into the house, eyes murderous. You had never really seen him act like that, especially to a friend. But then again how well did you really know him?

A beat of silence. You really wondered what on earth had happened for the party to just end. You shifted your weight on your feet. “Do you have a car?” you asked eventually. 

Jack brushed past you, “yeah. I’ll drive you home, didn’t drink anything.”

You followed him, but on the short walk back to his car neither of you said anything. 

The stereo remained off all the way back to your place. After you had stopped looking at him to try and figure out what had him in this bad of a mood, you looked outside. The neighbourhood was so familiar, and the horribly sad feeling from earlier came up again. 

You really needed some kind of distraction. “Thank you for driving me home.”

For a second he remained quiet and you really thought you were going to be ignored. He had always had a bit of a dramatic streak at times. “Of course.”

His expression remained scarily blank. “Can I ask what happened with Kevin?”

“Nothing,” he said, his gaze staring firmly ahead. Then, “I don’t like his friends.”

What kind of response was that? “Okay,” you tried, carefully, “then why did you come?”

“I didn’t know I didn’t like them before tonight,” he said. 

Then you looked at the way his hands were gripping the wheel, specifically at his knuckles. Wait- “did you punch one of them?”

He laughed, and the sound bounced off the small enclosure and some kind of happy feeling made your heart swell, even though you had been apprehensive about him just moments ago.

It was a lot longer than your comment had warranted. You really were a bit concerned about him. Should he be driving if he acted like this? “I might have.”

Before you could ask why, because you had never seen him actually punch anyone, he continued, “in my defense, he started it.”

“That’s a shitty defense,” you said, “that just means you have to be the one to take a step back first.”

He only shook his head in response but you were happy he was back to acting like that Jack you knew. “You would have punched him too, I just know it.”

“Sure,” you replied. You had never punched a person because you didn’t like them and you didn’t think you’d start anytime soon. 

“Trust me, you would have,” he said and left it at that. 

The two of you arrived at your place soon after, so you thanked him and left. 

The rest of the summer between highschool and college was spent getting over him, which you eventually succeeded at when he introduced his now ex-girlfriend to you and your friends. 

In college you went out on a few dates, but none of them ended up going anywhere. That was fine to you, because it just meant that you were prioritising other things now, like your studies and your friends. 

There wasn’t even anything all that similar between that memory and your current situation, but you drew the comparison anyway. His jaw was more refined now, his hair longer and his eyes seemed different now, a bit more mature maybe. Or maybe just a bit more tired. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

It must have been a bit strange, you just looking at him. “You,” you replied honestly. “Do you remember that one party, way back, after high school where you punched someone?”

He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall, his throat exposed. Your gaze lingered there for a bit before returning to his face. Some kind of feeling almost bubbled to the surface at the sound and the matching sight.

“I do.”

“I never actually figured why you did that.” When his gaze remained firmly on your ceiling, you continued, “I feel like now enough time has passed for you to admit why.”

He smiled a bit. “There was this other guy, right? The one I punched, I mean.”

You nodded. 

“He was being a real dick about one of my friends, and when he didn’t stop talking about her I just kinda wanted him to shut up. Moved before thinking about it.”

“Asshole,” you commented, not about Jack. 

“Right?” he turned his head so that he looked back down to you, “after that one punch I came back to myself but before I knew it Kevin had dragged me out by my collar, shouting that everyone had to go.”

“He must have wanted to avoid a full on fight,” you said. 

“For sure, can’t even blame him.” With a mischievous gleam in his eyes he said, “but it felt really good to finally shut him up.”

You laughed, thinking that the entire situation was a lot more dramatic than it really had any reason to be. The laugh turned to a yawn by the end. 

“I should leave,” he said but you had the weird urge to ask him to stay. 

“Sorry, I’m a lot more tired than I thought,” you said instead.

“Don’t apologise for that,” he said, getting up. He ended up offering you a hand to help you get up as well even though you really didn't need it. You took it anyway. 

He picked up the bag that he had left at the door, opened it and turned to you. “I had fun.”

You smiled, “me too.”

“Good,” he offered you a smile in return. You saw his hand reach out and stop for just a second, but before you could ask him about it, he held it against your temple and leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead. He lingered in your orbit for a bit longer than the duration of the kiss, just hovering above you. 

“See you soon,” he said, waving, and you replied the same. Then you closed your door and locked it. 

You didn’t need to hold your hand against your cheek to feel it burn. What was that? He had never done that before. He had never done anything like that before, ever.

You stumbled to your bathroom, and went through the motions of brushing your teeth and going on the toilet. When you finally crawled under your sheets, you let yourself sink down into them. 

Still, you were too tired to properly dissect the entire interaction so instead you closed your eyes. You drifted to sleep, your mind focusing on the tips of his ears that had seemed a bit flushed when he closed the door behind himself. 

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @hughescomplex @lupinslibraries @megaluke @cixrosie (send me an ask to be added!)

[percywinchester27]

The new Mrs. Winchester (18)

Word count: 3.1K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: Really slowly, but we are getting there ;)

Beta: My darling @deanssweetheart23

With your back to the damp wall, you stared at the mouldy ceiling. Sick green patches had bloomed all over it, giving the appearance of an ugly, mossy carpet. A guard had thrown two blankets over your body. Amazing the difference that warmth could make to the mind’s functioning. 

Thirteen men so far. 

The pins had been removed from your heels, and now littered on the cell’s floor.  Using the sharp point of one you made thirteen lines on the wall, then a fourteenth one. The guard from the first night should also count. But so should Nick, then.

Rage, the sort that could scorch the earth whole erupted inside you. A few days was all it took for the shock to turn into horror, then grief and finally rage. That monster was the reason Danny and Jamie were being held hostage. But they were safe. You had gathered your marbles and spent every minute since your recapture vigorously trying to understand the extent of your situation to the last detail. First: You were a commodity, with investment already put in place. If you behaved as instructed, you could avoid the worst of bodily harm, at least, from the captors’ side. The boss– a shudder ran through your body, in cold fear– wouldn’t let his men touch you… only the clients and him. The first assault from a guard was a one-time thing and would never be repeated, now that you knew all the rules. So, as an investment, you would be taken care of. Physical injuries would obviously reduce the value of the goods. 

Second: The kids were safe for now. The business didn’t deal with murdering children for fun, they were only a security and not a purposeful target. No one would ever go out of their way to hurt them. As long as you followed instructions, they would be untouched and well-educated. 

Third: You could manage and escape, but you wouldn’t even try now and everyone knew that. They managed high-end clientele and you were specifically chosen for being well-educated, where you could entertain body and mind. 

A possibility emerged from all the analysis. If you managed to stay alive for a few decades here, they wouldn’t want anything to do with a wrinkled woman. Then, instead of killing you, they might turn you onto the streets. 

A rattling cough sounded from the adjoining cell. In the afternoon, when they’d taken you upstairs for the man in the hideous purple suit, the cell had been empty. Noises could only mean one thing– you weren’t the newest piece for sale anymore. 

Gripping the bars, you hoisted yourself up, still in pain, and banged on the wall. No one was on duty in the passageways at that time. The girl must have mirrored you, for you could see the tips of her fingers if you craned your neck.

“Don’t resist,” you whispered. “They’ll get you one way or another. It’s no use.”

She spat. “You can give up. But I won’t. I’ll find a way of getting out of here.”

You didn’t mind her derision. Rather, a sadness gripped your heart at her confidence, at the fight she harboured. You were just the same once.

Sliding back, you bit back a shriek of pain. Everything hurt and you didn’t know if you would be ready to deal with more by tomorrow.

“Where… where are we?” She asked, voice shaky. “Which way is the exit?”

“We’re in Texas, near the border to New Mexico. This is the second basement and the exit is on the third right by the parallel passageway. Two guards are always stationed there. If you get past it, you’ll exit on a mile-long driveway and about two miles to the east of its end, you’ll find a bus stop.”

A sharp intake of breath.

“I managed to escape once,” you told her. “Almost made it into the bus, too.”

“So, there is a way out?”

You didn’t want to repeat words of hopelessness to her. In her own time, she would know how impossible it was.

Michael came rattling the bars and you pressed up against the wall, scared of the smirk on his face. But he stopped before your cell, in front of hers. 

“C’mon, Darling, it’s showtime,” he sneered. She must have spat in his face because the next minute you heard the clanging of the door being opened and then a slap, followed by a crash. 

“You better watch it, bitch!” 

“My boyfriend will rip you to pieces!” She screamed.

“Oh, really?” Another slap.

A sob broke free of your lips. That poor girl had also trusted a man and ended up here. You knew the drill, the water hoses, followed by nights of torment where she would worry sick about the guy before they would drop the truth on her of who really sold her.

“T-Take me!” The words left your lips, and then you couldn’t take them back. “Leave her. I’ll go again tonight.”

“My… my… how touching,,.” Michael came around to your cell. “Such a princess move! You know I’m not picky. If you want to get some more tonight, be my guest.” He opened your door and yanked you out. Slowly, you moved past her and registered nothing but her big brown eyes, before Michael poked you in the back. “After you, your royal highness.”

*****

“Would you like honey in your coffee, Miss?”

You craned your neck up to squint at her. “Honey? In coffee?”

“Yes,” said Abby. “Mr. Winchester has been taking it in his and it seems to have made all the difference.”

“Abby, the only thing that could make any difference to his coffee is throwing that whole jar away.”

She giggled quietly and added a single sugar cube to yours. You registered her mild tone. There seemed to have been a colossal shift in her attitude towards Sam. You wouldn’t be the one to complain, but regretted having missed the phenomenon.

“Mrs Winchester!” Sarah, the other maid on Wednesday’s wait staff barged into the room. “Ma’am, you need to come down, people have come asking for Mr Winchester.”

Sharing a confused look with Abby, you followed Sarah downstairs and then steeled yourself to find most of the board in the dining room, seated at the table.

“Mr Singer, it's wonderful to see you here,” you greeted Bobby and then the other members, most of whom were Sam’s cousins. “Sam isn’t home at the moment. What can I help you with?”

Sam hadn’t been home for a while now, away on business as he was.

“You can’t help here,” said Christian, but he didn’t appear surprised in the least to not find Sam at home. “It’s a board matter.”

None of the Campbells had ever spoken to you directly. Not Christian or even Gwen, but she was glaring at you now.

“Why, I think I deserve to know.”

“If you insist then,” he said, tilting his head. “The board has decided by a majority to remove Sam Winchester as the CEO. Considering the share of all present parties, the majority percentage agrees to instant dismissal.”

Your heart started pumping faster in your chest, but you managed to murmur, “How does that work?”

Christian seemed to be the spokesperson here. “Removing Sam’s forty per cent leaves sixty per cent. Bobby here refuses to agree–” a sneer in his direction– “ That leaves a majority of the shares with us! Is it simple enough for you, Y/N?”

You jerked at being called by your name by anyone other than Sam. However, you held your ground. “Doesn’t leave sixty per cent.”

“Excuse me?” Gwen stepped up.

“I said, removing Sam’s share, doesn’t leave sixty per cent. It leaves eighty. A week ago he transferred half of his shares to mine.”

A rumble ran through the assembled men. Apparently, the share transfer hadn’t been put up on a bulletin board. 

“That’s still what? Twenty to–”

“Twenty-five,” grumbled Bobby. “Don’t go forgetting this old man, Campbell.”

Christian was losing it now. “Fine, big deal. It’s still twenty-five to thirty-five. About time that Sam and his new bride packed up and left.” 

At your startled look, Gwen grinned. “Didn’t you know, Darlin’? The mansion’s run by a trust, no majority, no house.”

You looked about yourself, missing Sam in your bones. Insanely, while sitting at the dining table, of all people you thought of Han. The snapping, the hostile looks in everyone’s eyes reminded you of his words: “Lady, if you run into the wolves, I’ll be afraid for them.” You wanted to be that brave girl now, the one unafraid of wolves. And just like that you were homesick for him. He’d promised to come when you needed help, needed him– lamp or no lamp.

And here you were about to be thrown out when Sam wasn’t even home.

The doors of the dining hall were thrown open and you jerked up in your seat. As if in a fever dream you saw Han saunter into the living room, boots, leather jacket, muddy jeans and all, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

As he passed by your chair, he lightly ruffled the top of your hair briefly, then pulled the chair beside yours and fell on it. “Hey, Chewie!” He grinned, completely disregarding that every chair apart from his and yours had scraped and now everyone else was on their feet, emotions ranging from shock to being thunderstruck. He put his muddy boots up on the table over crossed ankles. The soles directly faced Christian.

You made a move to get up as well, but he placed a hand on yours to hold you there. You couldn’t help but gauge everyone’s reaction. Out by the brook, on your pier, holding Han’s hand would be the most natural thing in the world, but not only did he seem completely out of place here amidst these men in suits, but he also didn’t seem to care… at all. And you didn’t know if you did, as Mark Campbell’s eyes moved from Han’s face to his hand on yours. Be that as it may, you were still magnanimously glad that he was here for you.

“So, Christian, I heard you were harassing this young lady?” Said Han, eyes sharp. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

A slight panic started to rise in your throat. You didn’t want any of these people to be disrespectful to your friend, be horrible to him, because they were perfectly capable of it. 

“Ha–” you started, but he tightened the grip on your hand, and you understood his signal to be quiet.

No one had found their voices yet and were still gawking at Han as if he were some extra-terrestrial being.

In the end, Bobby cleared his throat and put a hand on your friend’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son.” 

Han turned his face to meet Bobby’s gaze and you couldn’t see the expression on it anymore, but Bobby’s eyes became tender and he let go. When Han faced Christian again, the steel was back in his voice. “ Explain the math to me again, will you?”

“Y-you can’t just come back again and… and…”

“And what? Explain it like a five-year-old to you?” Han smirked. “Did you leave all of my twenty per cent out? Guess it doesn’t take the MBA that you don’t have to figure out forty-five is a bigger number than thirty-five, huh?”

“You, son of a bitch,” hissed Christian, putting his palms on the table. “You think you can disappear to God knows where and then turn up now to–”

For the second time, the door to the dining room opened and Sam stumbled in. At first, his gaze fell on the assembly as a whole, then he did a double take at Han, eyes going wide and wider by the second, until they dropped to your entwined hands and back up again, at your face first and back to the man next to you. You saw him rock a little on his feet and then go very still.

You yanked your hand back, but you needn’t have because Han let go, too, and got to his feet. You fully appreciated how tall he was, also. It seemed like an eternity passed between them as they stood staring at one another and slowly, very slowly the situation truly sank in your comprehension. 

Castiel followed after Sam and froze, too, then exclaimed, “Dean!”

With shaky feet, you stood up, realising how wrongly you had interpreted the entire situation. The board members weren’t shocked at the appearance of an alien person in their midst. Rather they were incensed at the entry of the strongest contender in the game save for Sam himself.

This man was Dean. Your Han was Dean Winchester.

“Cas,” Bobby warned, and Castiel schooled his expression. “Move along then, people,” Bobby raised his voice. “I believe the matter is settled. Let the family have some privacy.” But the men didn’t seem to want to move, as if they were also caught in the power of the unbroken gaze, expecting a shouting match… eager for it. And maybe they weren’t far off, because you knew Sam’s clenched jaw and Dean’s steely eyes. 

“Move now!” Bobby snapped and slowly the board filed out of the room. Cas, the last to leave, closed the door behind him with a look of apprehension.

Your breath caught.

Time unfroze then.

Suddenly, Sam crossed the room and closed the distance in between to engulf his brother in a tight hug. Dean hugged him back fiercely, eyes an ocean of emotions– pain, longing, love. And Sam? You had seen him stressed, worried, even vulnerable… but never like this, never seen him close his eyes so tight and simply let go. The weight he seemed to carry on his shoulders all the time, seemed to evaporate in a second and you could see in him the man who was only twenty-nine, without the responsibility of the world to pull him down.

They broke apart, eyes still roving each other's faces for a minute, before Sam turned to you, grinning. “Dean,” he said, voice lighter than a breeze, “This is Y/N. And Y/N, this… this is my brother, Dean.”

He took a step in your direction, but you moved back, flattening yourself against the wall. “Don’t… don’t come close to me.”

“Y/N?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. 

You inched further away, pointing a finger at him. “You got me good, Sam. You got me real good. You and your brother. Did you plan every second of it? And for how long? For two years, is it? For two years you’ve made a fool of the whole world… no bigger fool than me, though. Brilliantly executed good cop- bad cop routine.”

You felt disgusted at yourself for falling for the manipulation. Had anything been real at all? 

“You wouldn’t even look at me in the beginning. In… In the chapel, you wouldn’t even turn your head in my direction, as if I was something disgusting stuck to your shoe, and you treated me like an invisible ghost in your house. And then you graced me with your attention, your care, your… your…” You broke down crying. “All to get me talking. I know that now. I’m not stupid.”

Knees bucking, you fell to the ground, unable to stop the pitiful crying. 

Both brothers moved, but Dean was quicker to get on his knees.

“Chewie–”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you screamed. “I trusted you. I thought you were my friend.”

Over you, Sam started, worried eyes shifting between you and his brother in confusion.

“You’re an asshole,” you pointed at the man before you and then above. “You, too, Sam. You violated my trust. What you did is no better than any of those hundred men.”

Sam flinched. You might have slapped him.

Shakily, you got to your feet. “I’ll never forgive you.” 

The run up the stairs and straight into your room ended when you threw yourself onto the bed. The silk hangings mocked you. You had been blinded by the false promises and reassurances, but you were still nothing more than a piece for sale, to be used… had never been anything more.

Slowly the past few months started to feel like a dream… one that had always felt too good to be true because it was.

The girl in the next cell jumped up from the floor as you were nearly dragged back to the basement that night, having completely lost the will and ability to walk. You heard the clatter of steel bowl as she rushed, but couldn’t find the energy to meet her gaze. Then it was too late as the door to your cell opened and you were unceremoniously flung inside. The birds outside were just starting to twitter, signaling the early hours of morning, little rodents scurrying to get back into their holes now that the night had ended. How you wanted to crawl in a hole, too, and just… die.

“Why did you do that?” She asked, voice strangled.

You didn’t have an answer for her. Getting slapped six times was nearly the same as getting slapped five times, right? Tonight, you were beaten anyway and she wasn’t. You understood the difference.

“Thank you.” Her voice held all the gratitude.

With the last vestiges of strength, you dragged yourself up onto the cot and pulled the two blankets over your body. “It’s alright.” Maybe she heard the whisper. Maybe she didn’t.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m gonna get us out of here. Get you out, if it’s the last thing I do.”

She was brave that one. You wanted to tell her to hold on to that spirit because men knew nothing but to hammer against it. Men knew nothing but to take advantage of women, but you were too tired to open your mouth.

Maybe having her in the next cell, you might not feel so lonely anymore, you thought as your eyes closed.

The banging woke you up. Sam was hammering on the connecting door of your room. Pulling your hands up, you shut your ears tightly until the banging stopped. Sam didn’t rest, as the desperate banging gave way to structured knocks.

L-E-T  M-E  A-T-L-E-A-S-T  E-X-P-L-A-I-N

P-L-E-A-S-E

Y-N

One last loud bang against the door, as if he had banged his fists against it in frustration.

You must have fallen asleep or were nearly under when softer knocks sounded right over your headboard on the wall:

I-M  S-O-R-R-Y

But you didn’t have it in you now. All along you had been right: Men knew nothing but to take advantage of women.

*****************************

A/N 2: I am struggling to write. Encouragement is the only thing keeping me going at this point. Please chat me up/ message me/ share your thoughts on this chapter!

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

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[insert-something-funy-here]

PHIGHT OR PHLIGHT

Happy holidays!!! Here's chapter 4!! I might have a special present by christmas for yall if I'm not too busy :)

Hope yall enjoy stinky man crashing out while his rogue robot reconsider his career change!!

Bit of a content warning here: religious ideology and character death, read at your own discretion.

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 5

Using the power of a god as a battery, how laughable. But this connection could do more than that, it was a direct way of influence. Granted it would be easier to leave him as he is, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, he’d get there eventually, may as well speed up the process and play with the product. Frankly, it doesn’t truly matter either way, alive or not, there’s nothing that can’t be manipulated.

Biograft could feel the air of the room around him, he lies shut down on the workbench as Medkit integrates the eye to power him. He felt the air inside him, his poor cooling system barely keeping it moving. He felt himself fall deeper than his body, he felt something other than himself in his code.

“That man may have created you, carved your mind, but I gift you life, soul.”

When making him, Subspace used hard code. All Biograft had known was the simplicity of set values and fixed data. Outside of that were the servers, all updates and new information being inputted through them. That was all he had to think about, all he could think about. But some loose line of code allowed for something more. But right now, he was still just code.

“ You’ll exist proper thanks to me.”

He could feel something new brewing inside him. Hear the gentle hum of energy flowing through him, replacing the electricity he ran on. He felt him. The Father changing him.

“You could consider yourself one of my children, as I am the one to truly give you existence through a fraction of myself.”

This pushing, crowding, invading of his innermost self. Is it even him thinking?

“I hold all my followers dear, but you? I have high hopes for. You best not disappoint. I have no use for a child which cannot provide back to me.”

Is it him thinking? Or is it this invisible force living through him? He felt the whirrs of his fans, but was it him making them move? He felt a gentle pulse as his new core began to stabilize. Did he have a heartbeat? Or was it just this hidden lord which forced its mimicry. Did he breathe? Or was the air he felt just commanded by some remorseless emperor to move as such?

“Don’t worry, don’t fight, you’ll receive what you wish, just don’t fight it.”

He felt his being expanding, preset values becoming dead weight. Stored data becoming memory-like. Simple intake and analysis becoming learning. As though he were being created, no, birthed for the first time. His limitations being stripped, he could edit his own code. But this came with a weight to it, the burden of a soul always does.

“Now then, what have you to say?”

He could speak whatever he wanted, but knew the response he owed.

“Thank you Father.”

Bigrafts lights turn on, a teal color replacing the orange they were before. The projection on his face now only showing one eye, the other replaced by a cactus flower. He sits up as Medkit watches anxiously. Biograft looks away from him and to himself, opening and closing his hands. Everything had this new depth to it; he felt his joints, his “skin”, the ever so slight warmth from the lights across him, and Medkit’s stare. After a deep breath and clearing his throat, Medkit breaks the silence, “How do you feel?”

Biograft thinks for a moment, realizing how the question doesn’t overwhelm him. He’s feeling a lot, but he’s able to think through it now. “I feel… I feel content. It’s odd, I have so much on my mind, but right now I feel okay.”

Medkit’s expression shifts slightly, showing some relief and a bit of surprise, “Good… that’s good,” he nods, “I should let Scythe know we’re finished.” Biograft nods and watches as medkit leaves. He steps off the workbench and stretches, it’s a familiar sensation, yet it’s different now. He looks down and notices the Blackrock emblem previously on his chest now replaced by that of the Lost Temple. Scythe’s and Medkit’s entrances interrupt him.

“Well lookie here!” Scythe steps in front of him, looking him up and down before putting a hand on his shoulder, “lookin like real family!” She gives a gentle squeeze before letting go and turning to Medkit, “You did a fine job on him. How’s his gear lookin?”

Biograft looks at Scythe confused, knowing what he’s about to ask she answers first, “Well we have to make sure ye distinguishable from the others don’t we? Don’t worry, I’ll teach ya how to use it.”

Medkit goes to one of the counters while Biograft responds, ‘I’m sure I’m capable of learning my own gear-”

Scythe cuts him off as Medkit walks towards the two with Biograft’s new weapon, “Aw but where’s the fun in that, besides you’ll already be with me for the next lil while considerin’ I gotta show you around.” Biograft opted not to respond, recognizing his lack of choice in the matter. He looks at the double-headed spear Medkit hands him, the ends having been taken from his old swords, but they’re now the same teal his lights are. He takes it and steps back in order to spin it a few times, feeling the new weight in his hands. “Havin’ fun?’ He stops as Scythe speaks, “Now, I got one last thing before we get going, you need a name lil guy!”

Biograft looks at her confused, so she continues, “Well we can’t just keep callin' ya Biograft, you’ll get mixed up with the others! So let’s give you a real name-”

Before Scythe gets a chance to continue, Biograft interrupts, “I want Medkit to pick it.”

Scythe chuckles under her breath and the two of them look at Medkit expectantly. Medkit thinks to himself for a moment. Seeing as he should be named after his gear the first word to come to mind was jägerstock; however, that doesn’t run off the tongue particularly well. It’s also known as a hunting staff… “Hunter.”

Biograft, no, Hunter stares at him before nodding, “That is my name now,” he looks at Scythe, “Hunter.”

“Well then, since that’s settled, we oughta get goin,” She walks to the door, motioning for Hunter to follow her, “See ya round ‘Kit.”

Hunter looks at Medkit for a moment, having so much more to say, but only manages to get out, “Bye,” with an implied, ‘for now I hope,’ before leaving. Medkit returns a quick goodbye as Hunter walks through the door.

Being left alone, Medkit reflects. The remaking of Hunter's gear was a familiar process, it reminded him of just how much he missed his old work. Gods, he hated being a doctor. It was such a miserable thing. But he couldn’t just stop. Not when there are people to help. That’s why he lives, isn’t it? That’s why he has the abilities he does. Why his crystal is different from Subspace’s at least.

The two had carved tangible pieces of the Iphinity which solidified into the crystals they used for power. It asked them what they wanted. Subspace said to destroy, Medkit said to help. The equipment they used has long been destroyed and Medkit made sure to take his notes before leaving. It would take Subspace some time to figure out how to repair the machinery missing half the processes for such.

Subspace’s crystal was much better at holding and channeling energy, while Medkits was better for manipulating it. That was how he healed people, simply reversing their wounds. It’s how he’s able to revive them.

It helps people, but he hates it.

He hates it. He hates the panic of being too late. He hates the chance that there may be a day where he cares for those he could save no more than Subspace does his test subjects. He hates that he cares underneath it all. He hates that he knows that day has long been coming. He hates it. He hates it. He hates it.

But what he hates most, is that there are demons he can’t save, because he knows he’s one of them.

A couple days pass, Scythe training Hunter and teaching him the church’s ways. If it weren’t for The Father’s energy keeping him alive, he wouldn’t have followed any of the beliefs they were spoon feeding him. Though, he only took a couple to heart.

He doesn’t need sleep, but finds mild satisfaction in it, so he continues the habit. Today Scythe wakes him, seeming quite excited, “Get up! You got yer first mission today!” He gets up from his bed, leaving the mostly empty room and follows behind Scythe as they walk through the church's halls. “It’s a simple one, we’re gettin’ some gears for a dear patron of the church. It’ll be interesting seeing how ya do against a triple for your first kill, but I think you’ll do fine.”

Confused, he asks, ‘A triple? Please clarify.”

Scythe laughs, “A triple is a demon who’s gear has three main parts, instead of the usual one. They’re rare, ‘bout as rare as healers. Doubles, like me, are still pretty rare, but not as much as them. The one you’ll be goin’ after is named C.G. and wields a saber, rifle, and flag. We’ll be makin’ our way to Thieve’s Den.” Hunter nods, remaining quiet for a few seconds as he takes in the information.

“You said this would be my first kill. That is incorrect, unless you mean in the context of my working for the church.” Scythe stops in front of him and starts laughing.

She turns to face him, “Aw, bless your heart! You really think what you’ve done before counts?”

He looks at her confused, “Why wouldn’t it? Those demons are dead.”

She continues to laugh, Hunter unable to tell if it’s genuine or mockery. She takes a deep breath before staring him down, “Let me ask you somethin’, have you ever felt the weight of a life in your hands?” Before he can respond, she steps closer, “I know you’ve killed, but that wasn’t when you were living, that was when it was all you were meant for. All you were made for, because you were just a machine. Don’t misunderstand, you're still a machine, but you’re alone now. An individual that can think and feel fer itself, bearin’ the burdens of life. You haven’t killed like this.” She takes another step forward, “You have to take now, knowing you can be taken from just the same. You have a life now, you have something- well, someone, to loose. Still think you can kill the same?” Hunter finds himself unable to respond, tense. She grabs his shoulders, “Aw, you’ll be okay, there’ll be consequences if you can’t, but I know you it in you. Besides, family’s here to help, I’ll be watching your first couple missions, so don’t worry about anythin’ goin’ too wrong, alright?” Hunter hesitantly nods. Scythe lightly pats his shoulders before stepping away and the two of them leave the church.

“DAMN IT” Sucpace yells while throwing various supplies off one of his lab tables, glass shattering and various substances sprawling out on the floor. Hyperlaser observes his tantrum from afar. He had come to ask about the sudden drop in security, but found this instead.

“What the hell happened?” Whatever it was was definitely going to mean lots of work for him, so better to just get to the point.

“They got away! They- Medkit and that Biograft, they’re alive and they got away!” Subspace’s voice chokes up as he starts a coughing fit.

“A Biograft? Really?” That would explain the current state of things, but it was still hard to believe. Still not fully understanding, Hyperlaser asks a bit more forcefully, “What happened.”

Clearing his throat, “I had him cornered. Biograft was supposed to help, I had him. Medkit was right there in front of me, and that corrupted Biograft punched me off! Medkit’s bullet took a chunk of my side!” He motions dramatically to the injury. “Then they ran off!” he grips the table, about ready to throw it like he did with all the supplies which previously rested on it. “He took it! He broke him! He-”

Hyperlaser cuts him off before he could get too absorbed in his rant, “I assume you want me to retrieve him?”

Subspace pauses for a moment before grinning under his mask, seemingly a bit calmer, “No, no it’s fine, I’ll get back at him! I’ll just go back to the plan I had before! It’ll be perfect! I’ll take from him like he did to me!” As Subspace starts to laugh to himself, Hyperlazer decides that it’d be smart to leave. Subspace, not really noticing or caring about his exit, brings out an older set of files and starts writing on a nearby whiteboard.

All he has to do is kill Sword! That’s all! He’ll kill him, figure out some way of animating his corpse, and use him to get to dear ol’ Meddy! And once Meddy is dealt with, fixing that rogue robot is next on the list. How dare Medkit corrupt his son. There’s nothing wrong with Biograft, all his inventions are as flawless as he is! This one just needs some… correcting! With Meddy out of the way, it’ll be easy! But first things first, that son of a sword.

He arrives in a desolate grassland. There’s only one person other than him and Scythe. That’s the target, just a quick kill, then he’s done.

He arrives at a house. There’s only one demon inside. A Slow and painful death is what he deserves.

Hunter quietly approaches them, weapon ready in his hands.

Subspace begins flooding Sword’s house with a newer variation of his usual poison gas.

They stand and turn to face Hunter. They remain in a cold silence, waiting for the other to make a first move.

The Home’s air is suddenly chilling, but it takes Sword a while to notice something’s wrong. He hears his front door open and stands up. He sways and almost almost falls over going to see who just came in. He can't see much more than a tall figure, but there’s only one person who would walk into his home unannounced like this.

It’s hard to tell who swung first, but it didn’t matter considering neither of their attacks were hitting. Hunter still being unused to his weapon put him at a disadvantage. The demon he was fighting was weak, but knew how to use their gear in ways that made up for it. All it took to get them on the ground was a slight misstep and a smart calculation.

“Dad?”

“Go on, just make it quick.”

A sharp pain in his gut followed by laughter and a distorted voice, “Oh dear child, is that who the poison made you see?” he asks mockingly before continuing to laugh. He pulls the weapon out of him, watching as Sword falls to the ground. He says, “You both deserve this.” before stabbing him once again.

Hunter was caught off guard by the sudden surrender. The fight was a difficult one, but they were fighting. Perhaps there was something more he was missing, but he had to focus and get this over with.

As Sword lays bleeding out before him the air starts to feel tense, and not because of his poison. Without warning Subspace is suddenly thrown into a wall, it almost breaking from the impact. He coughs and takes a moment to regain himself before looking forward and seeing someone holding Sword.

And with one swift movement, it was.

They were gone.

They were gone, lying still, resting.

Scythe steps forward as Hunter stares at the body before him. For the first time since having the ability to feel, he felt nothing. Blank and void. Or perhaps he was feeling so much he just couldn’t feel it. Regardless, he was numb. Trapped. Scythe Picks up one of the gears, “Aw look, baby’s first kill!” She’s about to congratulate him, but without warning a familiar red rope wraps around him and steals him away. ‘SFoTH Damnit!” she huffs, picking up the gears and chasing after Hunter and his captor.

The rope around Hunter lets go as he finds himself next to Katana. ‘So you are the Biograft he mentioned.”

Hunter had questions, but they both knew it wasn’t long before Scythe found them, “My name is Hunter. Who told you about me?”

Katana sighed, “Hyperlaser.” Before Hunter asked anything more he asked, “Why? Why do you join them? They are corrupt. You are a hatchling young and blind. They are clipping you of wings you have yet to grow.”

“For someone I care about.” Biograft stands, readying his weapon.

A few moments pass, Katana processing his words, “I see. Then I shall cut you down as I would any of them.” He begins charging his weapon. Before either can move, Scythe steps in.

“Well, well, well, been a while hasn’t it?” Scythe smiles at Katana.

“Far too long. I'll see to it that your head is permanently severed from your body." He grimaces under his mask.

She chuckles "How violent! It's funny how some things never change." Scythe turns to Hunter, “We’ll leave for now, don’t need to drag the newbie into this! C’mon.” Scythe turns invisible, Hunter copies.

“Your corruption truly knows no bounds,” is the last thing they hear from Katana as they escape back to the church.

This was not good, not in the slightest. Sword was dead yes, but now his father was beating Subspace to a pulp. Venomshank knew he would outlive Sword, he always knew that. Relationships of any kind between gods and mortals never ended happily. But this wasn’t how Sword was supposed to die. This wasn’t when Sword was supposed to die. That boy had so much potential, and was such a kind soul, only to die like this. Venomshank should’ve been faster, he should’ve dropped what he was doing the second something felt off, should’ve trained him better, should’ve spent more time with him, should’ve… Should’ve better shown his care. Showed his love. Showed how Sword is and always will be a part of him. He should’ve actually followed through on his duty and promise to always be there for him.

But he’s already gone. The cause of his death almost gone too. Though Subspace is laying on the ground, coughing and wheezing, something’s wrong. He’s going to do something, but what?

It’s well known that when two phighters sacrifice their gear to the spawn, they obtain a biological child. The SFoTH deities being the exception. So what if one sacrificed their gear to god? A gear is attached to one’s soul, there’s plenty of worth in it. But is it enough for a blessing? Subspace had gone over the possibilities before, it was likely nothing would happen, especially considering the decay starting to corrupt his gear, but what else was there to do? He wasn’t going to just lie there and accept death, he was supposed to be making others do that! So in a last ditch effort, he calls to the only god he thought would respond and offers himself.

“ILLUMINA!!”

[sacchiri]

I recently bought the jp volumes of Hellsing along with the guidebook, and since I'm reading the series in its native language for the first time I might as well share some random things that stood out to me in no particular order.

This isn't meant to be an analysis of translation differences, I'm too lazy for that. Also it's been 12 years since I've watched the anime and read the low quality fan scans of the manga so some of these comments are just "Lol, forgot this was a thing"

Volume 1

... I really want to know who this guy is at the beginning, yelling at Alucard in overly familiar language to "Get your shit together!" and "You're the only one we can count on!!". We know from the style of speech that it's a dude, probably just some Hellsing rando, and maybe it's not all that strange since he has probably been working with the same soldiers for years--but it's still funny.

"I know, it's just so nice out :("

..The way "HELLSING Organization" is spelled out like this reminds me that apparently the name is supposed to be an acronym. No really.

...

God they're so silly.

Now that I think about it, the only thing Seras has done this chapter since being turned into a vampire is say "I'm sorry" over and over.... girl you got shot in the lung, why are you apologizing

Not a huge difference, but what Integra actually says here is "Leaving a corpse here for 20 years... You're a terrible person too, Father" and not "What were you thinking, Father?" as the Dark Horse translation suggests (note the lack of question mark in the raw version). I thought that might be of interest to some.

Something else I thought was interesting is the first line Alucard ever says to Integra, and how uncharacteristically polite he sounds.

O-kega wa gozaimasenka- That's two honorific 御's back to back! (He even said them in kanji, even Walter isn’t that straightlaced and he’s literally the butler.) This is also the only time Alucard uses this overly flowery gentlemanly language with her, and good thing too because it would be so annoying if he spent the whole manga ending his sentences with ~gozaimasu.

What I'm trying to get at is, after seeing this sentence in the Japanese version, I'm like 100% sure he actually heard her when she was mumbling to herself about hoping to find a knight in shining armor, and he was totally going the extra mile in playing into that role for their first encounter. Which is kind of sweet.

Lol they misspelled Alucard on the top left... or rather, they incorrectly spelled it right?

One would normally expect Alucard to be written アルカード, and indeed pixiv dict lists アーカード as a misspelling (the u sound is weak in Japanese, so it's easy to mishear arukādo as ākādo). Hirano was definitely aware of the correct spelling though, since he used it in the pilot chapter and in his old character sheets. It was only when the manga officially began that he switched to the アーカード spelling. I doubt it was because of copyright issues because there is already a long precedent of vampire characters named アルカード in various old manga, OVA, and games in Japan that have coexisted without issue (like this guy Hirano mentions in volume 1's afterword).

Most likely Hirano simply thought it looked better, or was a means of differentiating his character from the others somehow. It certainly makes life easier for Japanese fans searching for fanart since アーカード is only going to bring up Hellsing and not the Castlevania character.

Jan Valentine even pokes fun at the spelling discrepancy later in volume 2, but since there wasn't a good way of expressing this in English it was left untranslated.

(Speaking of spelling inconsistencies, there's a lot of minor details I'm noticing now, like half the time the furigana for 吸血鬼 is written バンパイア and the other half it's ヴァンパイア... anyway)

Um, just noticed literally everyone's wearing glasses What should I do

Hirano's habit of jotting random comments underneath his panels is one of the underrated perks of reading the manga

The Dark Horse translation almost makes it sound like she's looking forward to seeing this battle play out, while in the Japanese she simply sounds apprehensive. Almost as if she's worried about them? And she's going out on the field personally to make sure nothing bad happens? Aww

Ok this is a weird tangent, but I just noticed the scans of the Dark Horse version I've been looking at use a slightly larger image range than the Japanese version does. It was only noticeable when I got to this part:

The second image is what the Japanese version of the scan looks like and I can confirm that this is what it looks like in my physical volume as well. You shouldn't be seeing the messy borders of the inking on the bottom like that.

Manga manuscripts are set up so that there are a few millimeters of bleed border around each page. You're supposed to color and line all the way up to (4) while keeping in mind that printing and paper cutting may result in the image being trimmed up to (3).

Either Hirano didn't color his lines all the way to (4) (this man has been drawing manga for years but this is Hirano we're talking about so it's very possible), or Dark Horse didn't honor the original bleed borders of the manuscript. I'm kind of leaning towards the former since there was a Hellsing exhibit in Japan a few years back where you could look at Hirano's original manuscripts and there's one where you can clearly see that he spilled a mug of tea or coffee across the entire page

Anyway, it's weird, and I'm curious to see if someone that owns a physical copy in English can confirm whether theirs actually looks like that. It's volume 1, page 141.

[citruscitrushope]

Why Ken Shiraishi is Still Written OK (aka why Vivid BAD SQUAD will never surpass RAD WEEKEND, and why that's a good thing)

An essay I wrote in someone's Twitter DMs as we discussed their belief that Ken's writing has been becoming out of character ever since On Your Feet, and my attempt to present a counter-argument that turned into an analysis of VBS stories up to this point.

1,089 words, warnings for swearing, spoilers, and the fact that this is barely formatted like an essay at all but was just a ramble I thought I gave some good points in and wanted to share.

So bro is openly going against the things that made rw what it was ("ok Toya make all the songs" <- that is not what happened with radder)" and I doubt bro would be full on ignoring it (nor clpl full on ignoring it seeing as they have all of the group's full stories planned from the beginning) and I personally theorize that it's to emphasize the four's strengths as well as to make them come face to face with their weaknesses to grow stronger (I think concerto is the most obvious case of this). Nagi's goal with rw wasn't to make something to be surpassed, it was to pass radder's dream to the next generation to reach the heights they couldn't (i.e. worldwide popularity) and I very much feel like the vbs story has enough backing them going in that direction (Toya's wl chapter, what I've seen of radder flashbacks, even Ken's whole reason for opening weekend garage).

For context, the preceding conversation was about how Ken has been going against a lot of his initial things (Running weekend garage to help the next generation, helping them not work as hard, etc), how he knew Taiga was gonna tell vbs the truth of RAD WEEKEND and that he should first but he didn't, and then how he's been overworking the kids and going against the team effort rw was by radder

Again, clpl kinda suck at writing vbs sometimes but dammit they ain't bad at foreshadowing, they teased Nagi stuff for a year or two before lutf and stuff after all. Plus they've never had a sudden decline with a character, it took two years for Mafuyu's mom to fully be revealed as bad, and even with Taiga that was a solid year. (Now what they do do a lot of are sudden "redemption arcs", sure the Otori brothers' was decent but all the times they've tired to have Shinodad or Toya's dad grow as people has been so bad like bro some people are just shit).

Plus vbs' story has been slower than most of the other units until this current arc (hell they took the longest to end their first arc), slow building blocks to surpassing RAD WEEKEND. So for this current arc to have them saying "our next event will surpass them" so suddenly just doesn't add up. It has to be a red herring. And again, Taiga's been this game's only true betrayal arc, others have been characters going from neutral to bad (Mafumom, one-off characters) or ones meant to be bad that eventually become allies to their respective groups (Arata, Iori, Otori brothers). Taiga going from an explicit ally to an enemy is an outlier, and I've noticed that they usually won't repeat plots and stuff in this game (well outside of Smile of a Dreamer and Our Happy Ending but I think that was on purpose).

I highly doubt that vbs' ending will involve them surpassing RAD WEEKEND, they're probably the only group who's initial goal hadn't changed over time (L/n "I wanna be with my friends again" -> "We wanna be pros that touch others with music". WxS "Let's save this stage" -> "let's travel the world to make our dreams come true" n25 "i need to save mafuyu" -> "she's seemingly saved but shits still tucked"). Even MMJ's which has seemed to always be "Let's be idols and give hope to others" has had steps to go through, it wasn't instantly "Let's perform in the dome" it was "Let's be idols" -> "let's do a live show" -> "let's do a solo show" -> "let's perform in the dome". VBS hasn't been like that, it's always been "let's surpass RAD WEEKEND" and never been anything but that, so their progression has just been them saying "this'll get us closer to surpassing RAD WEEKEND" with little to actually show for it.

It's a lofty, impossible task, and I think Ken and Taiga know that, but they view it in different ways. Taiga sees it as "you'll never live up to it give up stop trying" while Ken's is "you'll never live up to it but that doesn't change that you're still talented performers". Even though how characters always compare each other to radder (An and Taiga seeing Nagi in Kohane, Taiga seeing Ken in Akito) , they're not radder, they'll never be them, and I feel like that's what the story wants to have them and the audience eventually realize. That's what Nagi wanted, right? To have the next generation do what she and the rest of radder couldn't, to keep singing and to be known around the world. They've already contrasted how both Taiga and Ken have attempted to keep Nagi's wishes alive before (i.e. the whole "Don't tell An until she's ready" thing), and Ken handled this better than Taiga but both weren't the best at it, and vbs had to find the strength themselves to keep going. Taiga did it in a brutal and dream-crushing way, while Ken's was gentler and more honest but came too late, and I feel that they wouldn't get rid of that contrast with Nagi's other dream. Taiga ran off and became famous overseas, but never fully processed his grief. Ken is encouraging the next generation, but still isn't doing it perfectly.

So I feel that Ken's plan is to show vbs *their* strengths. The ones only they have. Not in the context of reaching radder's level, but in reaching their own, and truly fulfilling Nagi's wish. He's not doing it perfectly, he's overworking them severely, but I highly doubt that this is purposeful. Again, I just don't think they'd make the dilf have a villain arc.

But nothing anyone has done in response to vbs's dream has been perfect. Even from the main story with akitoya and Kotarou sabotaging Kohane, to Arata in sbd, to Taiga to Arata in bfby, and then lutf is obvious. It's a messy tale of unprocessed grief and unfiltered dreams, things that can lead to both triumph and tragedy. But I truly can't see any malice in Ken's actions, or even Taiga's to an extent. While there obviously was some there, to him I assume it was to protect the legacy of his sister and to not tarnish her swansong.

I don't fully know where I was going with this but all in all I think Ken has good intentions albeit with unintentional extreme expectations, VBS was never meant to surpass RAD WEEKEND, and the vbs story's messy pacing lately is purposeful

[booknbrew]

Spoilers to the ending chapter's of Oshi no Ko's manga below 👇🏼

Panel from chapter 160 analysis

We need to talk about a certain panel. It includes the reaction Hikaru gives to Aqua's accusation towards him that he tried and will continue to try to have his own daughter killed.

I talked in another post about the brilliant horror of Ai's final breath panel (the smiling one), and in it I gave props to how the manga's illustrator uses black and white to his advantage when portraying death. The use of the mix between the black of Ai's hair, with the pupil/star-less glassy eyes, the blood from her mouth and her lips all mixed up into a perfect storm of peace, death and morbidity.

In that panel, and the ones before it, you can tell some very deep thought went into it.

Chapter 160

Aqua's eyes display a similar to Kamiki's version of the dark star:

It goes beyond the eye

It's distorted

It's outlined in white

White star usually symbolizes ambition and inspiration, while black star symbolizes, well, darkness, morbidity and all around malice.

Chapter 160

You see that Kamiki is at first shocked and taken aback by this accusation. As a reader, I interpert it as a split second reaction, the most gutteral last sliver of morality he has left indide his heart. Him? Kill his own daughter? The spitting image of the love of his life? The one and only glimmer of hope he's ever had in a teenage time of darkness, abuse and exploitation?

...

Chapter 160

Yeah.

Yes, Aqua. That's exactly what he is going to do. In his mind, what other choice does he have? Even if, thanks to his own children, he knows that Ai DID come very close to loving him, and she DID want to have a family with him - it was all too late now.

Ai's dead, indirectly by his own hands. He drove a man to suicide. He drove another woman (Nino) mad by exploiting her very normal and valid feelings of jealousy and confusion as a young teen star and caused to her to attempt murdering the child of a person she used to consider a friend, he pushed an up and coming actress off a mountain - all be cause he thought he had Ai "figured out".

He thought she was an empty hearted individual, another woman that used and exploited him for his body, deceiving him, lying to him. But guess what? 15 years after her death and 20+ years after their relationship ended, he finds out that no. He did not know her either.

Ai was a kid, just like him. She was 15, horrified, used and abused, played with and thrown away like a doll. Not in the same way that he was, but in a very twisted way of her own. He realized that everything he did was for nothing. No, worse than nothing. His abuser, Airi, was right. He IS dirty, corrupted and wrong, absolutely empty, with no one to love him. Just like she said he was.

Chapter 146

In his mind, this is the reaction of "what else do you think I'm going to do? I'm the villain here, have you forgotten that?". His dark puils/stars are big, go beyond his eyes, as if to show that he is literally out of his mind. His stance is calm, almost nonchalant. The use of watercolor to draw his eerie smile gives off the feeling of an almost demonic or underworldly being's aura. This is a man who is too far gone. The truth appeald to his emotion for a bit, don't get me wrong - the fact that he decided to abruptly call off Ruby's murder attempt and urged Nino to turn herself in with him displays exactly that:

Chapter 154 // Chapter 158

But just like that, it's gone. Just like Ai. This clarity is fleeting, because you can't cure decades of trauma with threats to one's good name (the 15 Year Lie movie), a retroactive positive emotion from beyond the grave (Ai's CD) or anything else he went through and has done.

While the image is dark and distorted, it's also both eerily calm but also aggressively present. Just like Kamiki himself, it represents who he has become: a living embodiment of a ghost from the past, a bad memory.

[sugar-grigri]

Just wanted to point out my little grain of rice about your response to lottimiqo's analysis, don't really have to post my ask btw but since I can't comment on the og post I'm just gonna point it out here.

About Denji being the one who who started the kiss... I just can't see it that way.

Simply because Denji never, but NEVER touches the women who have touched him back. Not even for a rush of hormones.

Unless he haves complete and explicit permission to do so, he goes for it. Case we have only seen with (rip<"3) Power.

(sorry the pages aren't in order.)

The other times Denji haves "made" contact with those women, he just never touched or tried anything back.

Makima #1

Immediately backs off after she guides his hand on him.

Himeno #2

Again, he may accepts but he just doesn't start anything back. Doesn't even take his own clothes off, Himeno does. (I didn't download the page of her taking his shirt off.)

Fumiko #3

Once again, taking this one as the closest case to him and Yoru on #167. In terms of situation mostly,,,

He keeps his hands for himself.

He accepts, he asks if they should do it now. But does he jump into action?

The fact that Denji is looking at "Asa" in that moment just makes me doubt more he would start anything. He likes Asa, that's why I just don't think he would dare to kiss without "her" stating it explicitly. But "she" doesn't. Yoru just leans in again after, from my perspective, he backs off.

Anyways sorry if I'm not that clear or didn't explain it well but I hope the examples give a view of my point. 😿

Love your posts loulou! 🫶🏼

You're right to point all this out, it's very relevant and makes chapter 167 all the more coherent. But there's also something important to ask: why? Why does Denji never seem to take the initiative?

I think it's because he was subconsciously afraid. But not afraid just to take a step with a girl. Fear of disappointment (and trauma)

You were right to mention Power at the very beginning, because it actually starts a vicious circle. There's always the moment when Denji wonders if he's finally going to get what he wants, and it turns out in the worst possible way.

Denji experiences his first disappointment with Power, realizing in the same way that touching breasts doesn't produce the effect he'd so dreamed of. Questioning his way to happiness. Makima takes over, subtly picking up on this search for happiness in getting close to a girl, to manipulate him. In the long term. In a more insidious way that prevents Denji from realizing that things aren't going his way.

Himeno is a transmitter of trauma. She's drunkenly kissed all the new recruits - it's like a rite of passage. Trauma is the vomit it literally regurgitates down the throats of new generations. Denji lost his "innocence" too at this point, unconsciously realizing that he was the object of consolation from failing adults.

Reze kissed Denji, cutting off his tongue. In fact, she had no particular reason to do so. In fact, by cutting out his tongue, she is expressing her desire to silence Denji. For it is through their discussions that they realize their similarities, and therefore the risk of empathizing with him. Cutting out his tongue allows her to make him suffer as her mission requires.

I've talked a lot here about Fumiko. Fumiko is the symbol of all this unconscious sexual trauma for Denji, openly manipulative, adapting to Denji's reactions, giving him the impression that he's the great hero in control, promising to do him good, to protect him, while dreaming of making him a collector's item.

In short, if Denji didn't react, it was also because he had unconsciously understood from a purely physical point of view that these were not the right circumstances, the right context. The accumulation of all these experiences has also pushed him to withdraw into himself, while continuing to hope. Because Denji hasn't yet really experienced what he's been longing for, the bits and pieces of experience have given him a bitter taste for sex. But since it's his only hope, he clings to it.

That's why I think we'll know when we're in the right circumstances when Denji reacts with his hands. Embracing another is a sign of trust. It's always the others who have done it, never him, on his own.

[cmdrfupa]

Return To Sender

Part two of De Novo (Toji x Reader). All parts as well as content warnings can be found here!

a/n: Hello! I am very happy with this. I struggled on how I wanted to present apart of my own culture while getting through my analysis. This chapter is a bit lengthy but that's okay lol. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy!

The job had been quick—clean, like always. Toji moved through the darkened room, the faint tang of gunpowder still lingering in the air as he looked over his work

Middle aged man, maybe 40. Bad smoking habit, horrid hairline and a thing for faux gaudy Versace print from the look of his matching jogger set. “Hm.” He stepped over the body, his face expressionless while checking the contents of his latest marks pockets.

Wallet, phone with a now shattered screen, keys and some candy.

Toji helped himself to something called a chewy lite while sifting through the wallets contents. All run of the mill cards, bit of cash and random receipts but a card with a Roppongi address messily written across the matte finish caught his attention.

“Running from business? Dirty boy.”

He pocketed the card and barely spared a second glance as he holstered his weapon. The only sounds were his own footsteps and the muted hum of the city beyond the window as he propped the dead man up in the bathtub. This part of the city felt empty, even in the middle of the night. He preferred it that way.

Shiu was waiting for his call, so Toji slipped his phone from his pocket as he made his way down a back stairwell. He pressed the call button, listening to the dial tone, his mind already drifting as he waited for Shiu to pick up.

“It’s done,” Toji muttered as soon as he heard Shiu’s voice.

“Good,” Shiu replied, sounding unsurprised, as always. “I’ll clear it on my end. Are you heading out tonight?”

Toji gave a brief grunt of confirmation, glancing at his watch. “I’ll be back by morning.”

There was a pause on Shiu’s end, and then a clipped, “Alright. Just keep a low profile. Go to the butcher when you make it back to town.”

The line went dead, leaving Toji alone again, his thoughts thick and tangled as he pocketed the phone. Shiu was efficient, reliable; he trusted him to handle things, and the basis of their strange relationship was built on the brotherly trust they had for one another.

The buildings security leaving meant he was free to leave, his job here complete. The night was cool against his skin as he stepped outside, rain misting through the air, yet he hardly felt it, hardly registered the wet slick of the pavement beneath his boots as he walked back to his hotel.

Inside, Toji stripped off his blood-streaked clothes, methodically packing them in a plastic bag he would toss somewhere on the way to the airport. He turned on the shower, the sound of water filling the tiny bathroom, and stepped under the stream, closing his eyes as he let it cascade over his skin.

And yet, even as the water ran over him, he felt nothing—no sense of relief, no real need to scrub away the evidence of his work. It was just another task, another motion, another night.

The scalding heat of the shower did nothing to clear his head. He leaned forward, bracing himself against the tiles as steam clouded around him, his thoughts adrift. Was this just how it was now? The same endless routine, going through the cognitive process without pause, without thought? He opened his eyes, chuckling as the ghost of a smirk curled on his lips at the absurdity of it all.

As he dried off, the buzz in his mind faded slightly. He dressed quickly and packed his backpack before heading out to catch his flight. Each step, each action, was methodical, mechanical—like clockwork. Nothing about this felt real, and in a way, that made it easier.

“The less questions you ask, the better. Do the job, get paid, live knowing you just knocked off scum.”

Toji couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head remembering just how easy Shiu made it all sound. A fresh first time father with no family to help but a family friend who tried to kill him once.

Two jobs a month, tell everyone you work security if they ask, make it look like an accident if possible and pray you aren’t stupid enough to get caught or for the powers that be to get tired of you.

Easy.

By the time he was settled on the plane with the hum of the engines vibrating beneath him, he found his eyes growing heavy, his thoughts blurring. The lights dimmed as the plane took off, Istanbul's skyline shrinking below him as he drifted into sleep.

Toji was back in Tokyo but knew he wouldn’t feel right until he had his fix of food. He dropped his bag off at home before going to the restaurant, the familiar scent of simmering broth and spices thick in the warm, palely lit air. The usual hum of clattering dishes in the kitchen filled the dining room with it being a slow night. A muted background, leaving an almost intimate silence that seemed to settle just for him.

You walked up to his usual table and stood across from him, close enough that he could see the subtle gleam of light in your eyes, the small, knowing curve of your lips as you looked at him.

"Back so soon? Feels like you were only gone for one day." you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you reached out, fingertips brushing over the back of his hand. The touch was tentative at first, a mere whisper of contact, but it sent a pulse of warmth through him, something familiar and comforting. He didn’t pull away, though. Instead, he found himself turning his hand over, meeting your touch halfway, his rough palm against your smooth, warm skin before he pulled you into his lap.

“What can I say, baby doll? I missed you too much to take my time.”

Toji leaned in to kiss you and your scent filling his senses—something faint and floral, warm and soft, almost lulling him into a state of hazy tranquility. Your fingers traced up his arm slowly, lingering as though you were savoring the feeling, and he shivered under the gentleness of your calming touch.

Toji’s eyes fell to your lips as you pulled away, watching the way you tilted your head, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. It was subtle, unhurried, as though you were in no rush, letting the tension simmer between them. He felt his own breathing deepen, a mix of anticipation and need pulling him toward you.

“Pretty mama…” His voice came out rougher than he intended, the pet name slipping past his lips almost on its own. You responded with a soft, amused hum, fingers slipping up to rest against his chest, your touch warm even through the fabric of his shirt.

The distance between you vanished, face inches from his, eyes half-lidded as you studied him. “Toji,” a faintly whispered, his name rolling off your tongue in a soft, intimate murmur that seemed to slip past all his defenses. Your breath was warm against his skin as your lips brushed his ear as you ran your hands slowly down his chest, fingers pressing slightly as though anchoring yourself to him.

Then, in one smooth, deliberate movement, your lips met his.

The kiss was slow, like revisiting territory to get reacquainted. But he couldn’t hold himself back. His hands found your waist, drawing you closer, feeling the gentle curve of your body pressing against him. Your hands trailed up his shoulders, fingers slipping through his hair, tugging slightly, igniting a low heat that unfurled deep in his core. He responded with a quiet, involuntary groan, his fingers tightening on your waist as the kiss deepened.

His hands moved, gliding over your back, tracing your spine as he felt the subtle shift of your body beneath his touch, soft sighs fanning over his skin.

Your breaths mingled, and your lips parted beneath his, letting out a giggle as he nipped at your bottom lip. The world around you faded—the restaurant, the distant city outside. All that remained was your touch, your warmth, you whispering his name against his skin.

“How much longer until you’re off? I figured we could grab dinner and spend the evening inside.” Your fingers traced his jaw, drifting down his neck and lower, sending sparks through him with each soft, lingering stroke. “Ayame-san will understand a man missing his woman, I’m sure.”

His hands moved instinctively, pulling you tighter against him, feeling the way you fit against him. “Just a few more minutes, urso. Then I’m all yours again.”

_____

The plane jolted, pulling him abruptly from sleep. Toji blinked, the remnants of the dream fading as he sat up, disoriented, his pulse still racing, his skin tingling with the phantom sensation of your touch.

“What the hell..” He clenched his fists, dragging a hand over his face as he tried to shake the lingering warmth from his mind. Some lovesick fool chasing fantasies. But that dream—the softness of it, the unexpected comfort he’d felt—had struck something deep, something he was sure he couldn't ignore. And that pissed him off.

As he lights in the cabin brightened, signaling their descent, Toji let out a slow breath. He’d shake this off, he told himself. He’d go back to his life, to his usual routines, and forget all about the strange warmth you’d had stirred in him, even if it was only in a dream.

But as he stared out the window, Tokyo coming into view again beneath the early morning light, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

It was past midnight, and the rain had stopped leaving behind the dewy smell and light breezes as the muted glow led stragglers to there next destination. Inside, the space was warm, a small refuge from the cold outside, and the soft clinking of dishes and low chatter filled the air. The late shift had drawn in its usual crowd: bleary-eyed patrons drifting in from bars, hungry and noisy, laughter and murmured voices bouncing off the walls.

You moved between tables with a relaxed familiarity, apron showing signs of the days work, hair casually tucked under a colorful scarf you had tied on your head. You greeted the stragglers with small nods and the quirk of your lips, the softness in your voice was bright as you took orders and traded jokes with ease.

“Still got room for ‘nother round, or should I bring a broom to sweep you out?” you teased one of the regulars, who responded with a hearty laugh.

“Oh, don’t start, —if I leave, who’s gonna keep you entertained?” the older gentleman replied, grinning as you swatted his shoulder with the order pad. Rolling your eyes but smiling, you leaned on the counter continuing the banter, tone light and unhurried.

Across the room, Toji slipped into the diner as quietly as possible, practically scurrying to his usual booth tucked in the far corner, watching as you moved around the space. The scene stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in years, lingering somewhere between fascination and discomfort. The easy laughter, the way you brushed off the boisterous remarks from the rowdy customers, all of it felt painfully familiar, pulling him back to the dream he’d had on the plane.

It was almost torturous, the memory slipping in and out of his mind: your soft touch, how your breath against his skin made him feel that carnal desperation he missed, the warmth he’d felt enveloping him. He could almost feel your fingers tracing his arm, hear the soft whisper of his name. The vividness of it left him unsettled, as if he were seeing you now not as you were, but as you had been in that dream—closer, vulnerable, undeniably warm.

Leaning over the counter to pour coffee, and he caught the way you tilted your head back just slightly, the relaxed smile lingering on your lips. It was a simple, innocent gesture, but to him, it felt charged, stirring up desires he’d long since trained himself to ignore.

Before he could regain his composure, your gaze drifted over and your eyes lit up as they landed on him.

  “Oh! And here I thought my charms scared you off,” you called out, voice playful as you finished with the last customer and made your way over. Your hands resting on your hips as you looked at him with something close to amusement. “Where’ve you been, stranger? Thought you’d gotten tired of my Ayame-san’s cooking.”

  Toji gave a small shrug, his face impassive, though he couldn’t quite keep his eyes from lingering on you just a second too long. “Got busy,” he said, his voice low, keeping the reply as neutral as possible.

“Well, she was convinced something horrible had happened to you.” you’d leaned in conspiratorially, eyes glinting with humor. “She almost sent out a search party, you know.”

Toji’s gaze softened without his realizing it. But as soon as he felt himself beginning to relax, that familiar warmth tugging at his defenses, he remembered the dream again—the way you had looked at him, your fingers tracing his skin. Like you had been his for years and not a beat missed. He could feel it so vividly, the phantom sensation lingering, stirring something painful and dangerous in his chest.

“Glad to see you’re still breathing,” you continued with your playful jabs, the smile in your eyes bright and unguarded as ypu studied him. “You don’t have to come in every day, you know. But a week without your brooding in the corner—it was starting to feel empty.”

  Your tone was light, almost like a challenge, but Toji felt his chest tighten, the simple familiarity of your words scraping against something raw and tender. He’d come here tonight seeking some distance from the dream since you never worked Friday nights from what he remembered. Was suppose to be a way to bury the memory of your warmth and that unbearable softness, but you’d only pulled it all closer to the surface. The calm that you seemed to exude so naturally was seeping into him, softening the tough shell he’d built, leaving him vulnerable in a way that felt too close, too dangerous.

  And he couldn’t afford that—not now, not ever.

You were still watching him, the smile unbroken but something shifted in your expression as you noticed his tense silence. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I got too fresh with you.” The gentleness in your voice now was hard to miss, genuine concern breaking through the humor. “You seem… distracted.”

  It was too much.

  Before he could stop himself, he slid out of the booth abruptly, giving you a curt nod as he moved to leave, his eyes hardening again, cutting off any trace of vulnerability. “I’m not doing this,” he muttered, his tone colder than he’d intended.

He didn’t wait for you to reply, didn’t even glance back as he strode toward the door, ignoring the looks from a few of the other patrons. Your gaze followed him, a slight frown forming as you watched his retreating figure. Your face softened with worry as you walked towards the exit as though you might go after him—but before you could, one of the regulars piped up, his voice cutting through the air with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Hey, Is everything alright? He looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

You forced a smile, shaking your head slightly as you tucked the order pad back into your apron pocket. “Yeah, he’s fine,” you said, though you voice was softer now, the usual brightness dimmed. “Just one of those nights, I guess. We all tend to have them.”

“Can I ask you a question, Yaga?” you walked to the table of your regular who was still looking in the direction of exit, attempting to assess what transpired.

“What?”

Maybe you were being too nosy, but it had been burning into your mind for awhile now. “Have you ever heard of a Fushiguro family? Like around here?”

Yaga sipped the last of his coffee before turning back to you. He seemed almost surprised at the question. “Fushiguro? It sounds familiar but I can’t say I know anyone with it close to me. Why?”

Trying to gather yourself from the whiplash of him leaving so quickly, you walked to the cash wrap and worked on the register as it dang. You didn’t mean to offend him but everyone is different you suppose. “Hm. Just heard the name in passing a few times lately. Figured I was missing out on local gossip or something.”

“Gossip? How about this.” Yaga pulled his wallet out and went to the front counter, “There’s a teaching position at my school now. Great benefits, full lunch hour and you’d also be filling the seat as an after school instructor.”

Laughing, you took the gentleman's money, counting out his change. “I tell you I’m a former teacher a few times and all of a sudden you’re scouting me.”

“Did I tell you that that you make the best coffee I’ve ever had in my life? So robust and flavorful? The way you brew-”

“Yaga.”

“Hm.”

“Are you single?”

Yaga couldn’t keep up with the train of thought and squinted. “Yes. Why?”

You held his hand like a mother holding her kids as you placed the change in his palm and closed it. “It all makes sense. Get home safely, good sir.”

He could only laugh and shake his head. “The offer will be there if you need more. Have a goodnight, young lady.” Yaga nodded with a smile and made his exit a swift one.

He’d disappeared so… abruptly. And its not like it was any of your business. But a patron whose becoming a usual usually has someone around to at least tell someone they are ill or traveling or admitting that they hate the food you serve. He just up and ghosted for a week.

You prepped for closing, locking the front and wiped down the counters with both the job offer on the table and the Fushiguro man on your mind yet again.

________

The quiet late nights sounds of your apartment acted as your reminder that you should go to bed soon. You’d been scrolling on your laptop for the past 2 hours, starting with ordering new fabrics for your upcoming design project which led you to attempting to stalk your mystery man. It was late—too late to still be awake, but curiosity had been nagging at you since Fushiguro’s sudden departure from the diner. You obviously didn’t know him very well but he had never come in and been that tense, that closed-off, almost as if he’d been looking right through you.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, uncertain at first, before finally typing his name into the search bar: Fushiguro.

You scanned through the search results, brows knitting in frustration. It was strange; the name seemed to go nowhere. There were no recent mentions, no profiles, no photos on social media linked to him at all. Nothing but an endless scroll of blank, empty leads.

Like it was scrubbed from the internet or hidden too well.

After a few more searches yielded nothing but the same dead ends, you tried something different, narrowing the results to the oldest records. Maybe there was something…anything that would give you a clue.

And then, finally, there it was. An announcement buried deep in the archives, dated over a decade ago.

Your eyes skimmed the small print.

Death announcement for Fushiguro family.

A newspaper write up digitized with an image attached of a beautiful young woman in her late 20s with dark hair and a soft smile. The text was a short obituary, stark and formal. It detailed little, only that a woman, Fushiguro, had passed away. Her name was there—a name you didn’t recognize. No other photos accompanied the notice, only a single line at the end mentioning that she left behind a young son.

“She seems too young to be his mother. Maybe a sister or wife?” You copied the name to your browser to see if anything else would come up and the only thing was another death announcement but on some site with a broken link.

“Maybe its for the best.” the room dimmed as you put your laptop to sleep and sat in on the empty side of your bed. Your clock showed it being 3:49 am you sighed. 3 hours and 11 minutes to sleep.

You scooted into a lying down position, the words lingering in your mind, stirring up questions but ultimately laying it to rest. From your new perspective, Fushiguro seemed to be a lonely guy. No searchable background, a possible dead relative who even they were a bit of a mystery. Maybe it was the death anniversary. The thought of being alone with no one to turn to made you feel a little bad for the man. Almost pity.

With heavy eyes, you drifted off to the thought of the brooding man. Sending up a prayer that maybe your loved ones could find Miss Fushiguro in the afterlife and bring her a little comfort.

Toji sat in his usual table but at a far more unusual time. Bright and early before even Shiu had a chance to disturb his peace. He was out clearing his mind and realized that his now favorite diner stayed open late and opened quite early.

He spent most of the night thinking about you. Tossing about how he overreacted. You did nothing on purpose but everything almost felt intentional. How you moved, the way you spoke. It was like a personal torture for him.

Ayame served him his tea and brought out another bowl of miso soup as he finished the last of his rice and fish. “Thank you.” he wiped his mouth and handed over the bowl to the older woman.

“Of course, big bull. Anything else? You’ll be priority since its still early.”Ayame patted his shoulder.

“Just another mackerel and I will be out of your hair. Please.”

Ayame winked and walked back to the kitchen where she audibly yelled the order out as if it were a team of 6 working in an executive kitchen.

Toji closed his eyes and took in the aroma of his tea. The morning sounds of the day coming to life itself. He sipped slowly, appreciating the calm of the establishment until the bell above the door rang.

“Good morning Ayame!” the sound of your velvet voice brought him back.

You walked through the dining area without even batting an eye to look around. Simply waltzed to the kitchen leaving Toji to crane his neck until you were out of his sights.

He could run before you even noticed him but he’d done it twice already. So he sat, sipping his tea and praying to whatever God that you’d maybe want to cuss him out or slap the back of his head just to start the process of him getting over whatever this was.

“Big bull! Ayame told me you came in early!”

Shit.

“Morning. Yeah. Just wanted some breakfast.” Toji turned his torso to face you as you came up.

You smelled like cinnamon and vanilla as you walked past to the seat across from him. “Didn’t think you’d be here this early. You closed last night, didn’t you.” He said matter of factly.

Nodding, you checked the temperature of the tea pot on the table. “Did indeed. But switched shifts. I have plans this evening. Which speaking of last night. I want to apologize.”

In Toji’s mind, you had nothing to apologize for. If anything, he thought he should be apologizing for thinking about you sitting his lap while his lips found there way around your body. “You’re fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was in a shit mood.” sitting his cup down, he cleared his throat.

“We all have those days. Hopefully I didn’t make it any worse?”

“Nah. I could do that on my own.”

You giggled and his heart fluttered. “Fair enough.”

You sat in silence for a moment and refilled his tea cup. “Whatcha doing tonight?”

“Why?” It came out rougher than he wanted.

“There’s this fun show club down in the Roppongi district! Known to be a great mood booster. You should go! Great drinks and food.”

Toji took his soup and slurped a bit up before answering flatly. “I’ll think about it. I don’t do big clubs usually.”

The bell rang at the door and you pushed yourself from the table with a shrug. Think less club and more burlesque lounge. Just think on it.” You pulled the pen from behind your ear with a smile. “The Tantra Show Club. Just in case you decide to go.”

With that, he watched as you sashayed to the incoming guest who was very clearly coming directly from the bars.

A chance to see you outside the diner. It could be worse.

———————-

You stood in front of the mirror, gently unraveling your twist out to loosen the curls, reflection focused and calm. Your third and maybe final performance of the day before you went to hostess duties.

The low hum of Utahime’s shamisen performance drifted through the building to the bright lit dressing room, mingling with the faint scent of perfume and smoke that clung to the air. Warm lights framed the mirrors, casting soft, golden hues on the women getting ready for the night’s performances. The small space buzzed with chatter and laughter, half-empty glasses of wine and lipstick-stained coffee mugs crowding the counter tops.

Leaning forward to inspect your makeup, you carefully blended out a smudge of eyeliner with the practiced ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. Your satin robe, dark blue with hints of lace at the cuffs, lazily hung off your shoulder as you moved from the vanity to the couch that sat against the opposite wall.

“Ooo, going dark tonight, huh?” came a teasing voice from across the room.

You turned to see one of your fellow performers, Kirara, walking in with a glass of water, already dressed in a costume of sheer black lace and sequins. Kirara smirked, arching an eyebrow as she gave you a quick once-over.

“Always the understated one,” she added with a wink, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

You rolled her eyes, grinning. “Maybe I like a little mystery,” you replied, prepping your lips with a light moisturizer. “Not all of us are as bold as you, Kirara.”

“Oh, please,” Kirara replied, laughing. “You keep ‘em hooked in a way that half the girls here would kill for. We’re just up here trying to keep up.”

You chuckled, lips lifting in a soft smile as you ran your sheer stockings up your legs, fastening them as you adjusted the garters with a delicate touch. The satin finish of the hosiery shimmered under the lights, accentuating the warm tones.

A familiar voice cut through the den. “You two could at least try to keep it down,” came the dry tone of Shoko as she entered the dressing room, a half-finished cigarette balanced between her fingers. She wore a loose blouse and black slacks, her hair tied back in a lazy ponytail, and her signature look of mild disinterest hung on her face like an accessory. “Some of us are trying to maintain a shred of sanity in here.”

“Shoko, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you only come back here to tell us to shut up,” you teased, your eyes meeting Shoko’s in the mirror. “You’re one to talk, showing up half-dressed as always.”

Shoko gave her a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Hey, I’m not the one strutting on stage tonight,” she replied, taking a long drag on her cigarette before tapping off the ash. “But if I was, I’d have you dress me. Girl knows how to keep it classy.” Shoko nodded her chin towards you with a wink.

Kirara snorted. “Classy? Sure, if by ‘classy’ you mean ‘secretly deadly.’ You should’ve seen the way she handled that one guy who thought he could grab her leg last week.”

You smirked as you sipped your water. “He was lucky I didn’t do worse,” you murmured, the gleam of humor in your eyes meeting Shoko’s approving nod in the mirror.

“Isn’t that why we all love you?” Shoko replied, raising her cigarette as if in a toast. “The classy killer.”

You shrugged, finally tying the belt of your robe a bit tighter as you got up to sift through a row of costume pieces until your found your chosen ensemble for tonight's act—a striking red jeweled wire Samba bikini set. Gold rhinestones trimmed the padding as the halter strap dripped with a fire red stone fringe that matched the ruffled, knee length skirt you’d already slipped on. You rolled your robe down just enough to slips the bra on the front. “Help me out, Sho?”

You held the jeweled bra cups to your chest as Shoko fastened. “This one is new. Must be.”

“Nah, Just never wear it. But I heard the owner was sitting in the audience with special guest tonight and maybe wearing his favorite color will entice him to keep my at for another 6 months.”

Shoko laughed as she helped you adjust the nude colored straps on your shoulders.”He basically said yes to that when he agreed to not cut into your tips and pay your conga players out of pocket. You’re fine.”

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you let your robe fall and looked at your costume. Flashy but not too intense. Definitely attention grabbing. “Classy Killer. Yes.”

Around you, the other dancers moved through their own pre and post-show routines, some gossiping, others touching up makeup or adjusting costumes. It was a world of its own, separated from the outside by heavy velvet curtains and the glitz of stage lights.

Shoko leaned against the counter, one eyebrow arched as she watched you “How do you go from pouring tea and serving ramen to… well, this?” she asked with a smirk. “Quite the double life you lead.”

“Maybe I’m just multi-talented,” you replied, smiling as you adjusted a long, gold chain that traced from your bosom to your navel, catching the light as you moved. “Besides, we can’t all be life saving doctors mighty doctors by day and ghosts bartenders in the night.”

Shoko let out a soft laugh, clearly amused. “Fair. And here I thought I was the mysterious one. But you… you’ve got everyone in this place fooled. Sweet and silent one minute, then this,” she gestured to the dramatic transformation from your usual overalls and boots. “I’d call it impressive.”

Kirara added a final comment, fluffing her curls as she looked over at you. “Don’t let her smooth talk you. Shoko just wants more of those little cookie things you bring in.”

You grinned, fastening a pair of delicate bracelets around your wrists before taking one last look in the mirror, studying your reflection: a quiet, composed zaftig figure with red lips and smokey eyes.

“Well, here’s hoping I give them a good show,” you uttered.

“Break a leg,” Shoko thoughtfully spke, giving a small, approving nod as she finished her cigarette and stubbed it out. “Or better yet, break a few hearts. I’ll be watching.”

With a final wink, you turned and made her way toward the stairs leading up to the stage, the sounds of the dressing room fading behind you as she stepped into the world you’d created for herself—a world of elegance, allure and mystery. Quiet strength captivating all who were lucky enough to watch.

Your conga player hit the drum once, then twice. You threw your leg from behind the curtain and the crowd seemingly enjoyed the tease as the room roared.

The drums started slow. A dragging, pulsing beat, deep and resonant, filling the dim club. You waited in the wings, letting the sound wash over you as your heartbeat went in rhythm with the bass drum. The warm stage lights softened as the emcee’s voice announced your stage name with a smooth, theatrical lilt.

A vision in red and gold, every move of your Carimbo contained controlled movements that remained languid as the uptempo-ed clashing of the triangle and maracas ushered you to the center. You rolled your hips, the growing speed letting your feet move fluidly on your as if you were almost gliding across the floor. Hurried but beautiful. Your costume caught the light with each subtle shift of your hips, the gold embroidery gleaming, echoing the cool metallic shine of the jewelry around your wrists and neck.

As the drums hit a crescendo, moving you to bring your hands above your head and wine your hips, you turned on your soles to bring your skirt up and moving as you turned in the powerful circular motion. Zhuzhing your hair, running your fingers through it, bringing the coiled strands to life as it moved as its own part of your performance.

Then, with a sudden shift in tempo, the music transformed, a lively Brazilian rhythm swept through the room. You moved with it, your body capturing the passion of the Calypso, hips swaying in smooth, hypnotic rolls as your hands traced the curves of your waist. The movements were sharp yet fluid, bold yet precise, a dance of contrasts that matched the beat perfectly. You spun gracefully, letting your hair fan out in soft waves around your, and as your feet swept across the stage, entire being seemed to pulse with the rhythm, as if the music was woven into your soul.

This was you. The days of watching the lambada being performed by your mother and her friends. The late nights of watching your cousins get prepped for Rio Carnival back in Brazil and finally having a chance to enjoy it yourself at Samba Carnival in Asakusa.

You were living.

The audience’s eyes stayed locked on you, drawn in by the intensity. You moved with an unabashed confidence, a self-assuredness that was almost hypnotic, as though you’d brought an entire world with you onto the stage. There was no shyness here, no subtlety; this was you as you as you were, powerful and alive, your movements a celebration of freedom and vitality. You swayed your arms above your head, stepping into a Samba de Roda sequence, your spins becoming tighter, more grounded, each step strong and deliberate.

You dipped low, then rose slowly, eyes flickering across the audience with a playful glint. The Samba brought a sensuality to the movements, but it was the carried grace and precision that gave your dance depth—a reflection of the balance you maintained in your own life, between the quiet strength of the diner and the fierce expression on the stage.

Every gesture, every flick of the wrist, carried a hint of allure, yet her expression remained serene, focused, as if you alone controlled the intensity in the room. Feet moving in quick, intricate patterns, body flowing in waves that built and fell with the music, hips swiveling in an beguiling rhythm as you met the audience’s eyes with the barest hint of a smile. Sensuality that seemed effortless, unrestrained by convention or expectation, dancing for yourself while the audience only got the residuals.

With one final turn, you slowed, movements transitioning into something softer, more tender. You stood still for a heartbeat, holding the room’s collective gaze before lowering herself into a slow, elegant bow, her face framed by a soft smile.

The applause and whistling thundered through the club, filling the room as you rose, giving one last nod before slipping offstage, breath steady but your heart racing with that familiar, electric thrill. You disappeared into the shadows, leaving the audience enchanted, yet somehow still craving more.

__

Toji finally pushed his way into the front of the club near the stage, his eyes adjusting to the low light as the crowd’s cheers and applause greeted him. He’d been pursuing a lead through Tokyo’s underbelly, coming to the address on the back of the card he pocketed in Istanbul and realizing it was the place you invited him. A crowded place far from the quiet corners he usually preferred but now there was a new issue. You.

He scanned the room, making sure he wasn’t having some sort of episode with pulling his gaze toward the stage where you just danced. He’d know that figure anywhere. He knew it was you.

Seeing you here but on stage. in your element, doing something so bold, so unyielding. It had stirred that uncomfortable recognition that he couldn’t shake and didn’t like.

What the hell are you doing here dancing? Almost angry with himself for even caring but even angrier for thinking he had the right to be upset at you. But that didn’t stop him from storming towards the back door, waiting until you finished for the night until he could tell you about yourself.

_____ “So a dancer.”

“Performance artist. But, yes.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that while inviting me? I thought you were there for fun or some shit.”

Toji walked closest to the street as you tried to keep up with his large strides. “That was a pretty vague invite. You aren’t uncomfortable are you?”

Uncomfortable? No. Fighting hard against calling you a beautiful goddess? Yes. “Far from it. It was interesting. Definitely no apron and chili oil stained shirt, thats for damn sure.”

There was a soft laugh that left you as Toji let his lips curl into a small smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.” You stopped in front of the diner, peeping in to see Ayame and the waitress, Nobara, taking orders from guest. “Thank you for walking me here. Want a tea?”

“No problem. And I’m alright. Need to get home and rest. Early morning.”

You gave his arm a soft pat of appreciation. “Have a goodnight, Fushiguro.”

He stood for a moment, watching you enter and get right back into your mode. Flashing a warm smile to a patron who waved you down. Toji sighed as he grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialing Shiu.

Only took one ring before the all familiar voice came through. “What do you have?”

“Kenjaku is back and using his brothers show club as a front.”

“Think you can get in good with someone there? I’ll pull some strings to do a full backup sweep on your name if needed.”

The heat in his heart pooled as Toji took a step back and continued to watch you. “Just.. change my name sake back to Zenin while I’m on this. I want it to be an easy clean up.”

“I’ll have it done by the afternoon. Find a connection in.” The line went quiet and Toji slipped his phone back.

It’ll be easier to distance himself if he uses you. You’ll see him as the scum he can really be and this silly little imagination of his that has decided to go into overdrive will then cease to exist.

Use you until you hate him.

Done.

[accio-victuuri]

an analysis : Xiao Zhan + The Moon & Sixpence 🌖

as usual with xzs videos like the one just released, you can make an entire thesis into the possible meanings of every chapter and frame. add it’s relation to xz and if you’re a pro, go deep into the techniques they used in shooting and editing. this one tho is centered around the theme of “the moon and sixpence” which is a book xz recommended before. I saw a few articles linking this to the elements on the vlog and so i looked into it.

i have lightly talked about some elements from the vlog yesterday but focused more on the quotes that appeared and the music chosen.

it’s been years since he mentioned this book and he didn’t even say that it’s his all-time-favorite. for example, the van gogh elements, we expect that already to be a recurring theme. as well as the moon, but this one has another connection to it. i am honestly curious where his headspace is at, and why, in this specific point in time he felt so close to the message of that book or some parts of it.

let me start with a synopsis and the book is available on googlebooks if you wanna try it out like i did. 🔖

with the plot alone, you can get a sense of why he would like it. at the time he read it, he was not yet the superstar xiao zhan that we know now. and this is why i guess he related to it more now. especially the sacrifices he has to make for the path he has chosen. this was evident in his GQ cover story interview where he compares himself to his other friends and how they have normal lives. the books is written in the first person POV of narrator who is looking into the stockbroker turned artist Charles Strickland. you get to see the thoughts of the narrator and how he views the main character of his story. the way i see it, the narrator is “Xiao Zhan the person” and how he sees “Xiao Zhan the public personality”. this concept of two sides to him was opened up in his esquire cover story and i can’t help but think it relates to this story.

i will be heavily quoting passages from the book that attracted me and i personally thought relates to xz. this is my personal interpretation only.

The greatness of Charles Strickland was authentic. It may be that you do not like his art, but at all events you can hardly refuse it the tribute of your interest. He disturbs and arrests.

the story starts of with this line and well isn’t this one way to describe xiao zhan? he has always been described as authentic and the “real deal” as far as idols and actors go. not many people are expected to like him or be part of his fan club and chase him — however, one thing is clear: he disturbs and arrests. his popularity is something that is unheard of and many artist and companies try to replicate. he is a disturbance to the norm in c-ent and why he is a constant target. it’s his biggest asset and liability. something like MFW and stepping out of his home is also expected to attract all kinds of attention. He is aware of that.

“His faults are accepted as the necessary complement to his merits. It is still possible to discuss his place in art, and the adulation of his admirers is perhaps no less capricious than the disparagement of his detractors; but one thing can never be doubtful, and that is that he had genius. To my mind the most interesting thing in art is the personality of the artist; and if that is singular, I am willing to excuse a thousand faults.”

this is in the POV of the narrator, describing the artist he is writing a book about, Charles Strickland. the message of this quote is similar to the one i mentioned above. xz is not perfect and people, specifically his fans should accept that. it’s what makes him more real. through his wins and losses, he is still xiao zhan.

“It is a salutary discipline to consider the vast number of books that are written, the fair hopes with which their authors see them published, and the fate which awaits them. What chance is there that any book will make its way among that multitude? And the successful books are but the successes of a season. Heaven knows what pains the author has been at, what bitter experiences he has endured and what heartache suffered, to give some chance reader a few hours’ relaxation or to while away the tedium of a journey. And if I may judge from the reviews, many of these books are well and carefully written; much thought has gone to their composition; to some even has been given the anxious labour of a lifetime. The moral I draw is that the writer should seek his reward in the pleasure of his work and in release from the burden of his thoughts; and, indifferent to aught else, care nothing for praise or censure, failure or success.”

this next passage makes me think of the projects he has done and what it must feel like for him. there are a lot of dramas/movies that come out every year and what we repeatedly hear from xz is that he only wishes to bring good works. something people will enjoy and appreciate— never mind the popularity that comes with it. he just finished filming a big project LOCH which i can only imagine is so stressful to him. and now is working on another historical drama.

he is someone who immerses himself in the character and once it’s done, it must be a huge weight off his shoulder. like what is said — seek reward in the pleasure of work and in release from the burden of his thoughts.

“Then, what in God’s name have you left her for?’

‘I want to paint.’

I looked at him for quite a long time. I did not understand. I thought he was mad. It must be remembered that I was very young, and I looked upon him as a middle-aged man. I forgot everything but my own amazement.

‘But you’re forty.’

‘That’s what made me think it was high time to begin.’

i think this one is pretty self explanatory, how he started in the entertainment circle a little bit later in his life. compared to his peers. but the answer was simple to him as it was with Strickland, in his case, “i want to sing.”

‘I tell you I’ve got to paint. I can’t help myself. When a man falls into the water it doesn’t matter how he swims, well or badly: he’s got to get out or else he’ll drown.”

this message seems similar to the one quoted on the vlog about about the rivers and small streams. in this one, it emphasizes how one should not be afraid to take the small step of “swimming badly” in hopes that someday they will wade the waters more efficiently.

“But here was a man who sincerely did not mind what people thought of him, and so convention had no hold on him; he was like a wrestler whose body is oiled; you could not get a grip on him”

If there was something in this book the describes XZ so perfectly — it is this one. I think he is not devoid of over thinking about what people say or being a people pleaser. but in recent times, i am seeing a change in him and how he is more calm. a freedom in the way he speaks, the truths he is no longer holding back. he is not afraid to be different anymore.

which led to that GUCCI outfit. LOL! 🤣🤣🤣

‘Look here, if everyone acted like you, the world couldn’t go on.’

‘That’s a damned silly thing to say. Everyone doesn’t want to act like me. The great majority are perfectly content to do the ordinary thing.”

so true. a great majority wouldn’t and couldn’t do what he does. just looking at the chapters in the vlog, from going to a distant place and dealing with the MGW chaos. after that, being only afforded a small time to decompress and sit. to enjoy the sunset. that’s what his life is.

“I don’t pretend to be a great painter’, he said. ‘I’m not a Michael Angelo, no, but I have something. I sell. I bring romance into the homes of all sorts of people. Do you know, they buy my pictures not only in Holland, but in Norway and Sweden and Denmark? It’s mostly merchants who buy them, and rich tradesmen. You can’t imagine what the winters are like in those countries, so long and dark and cold. They like to think that Italy is like my pictures. That’s what they expect. That’s what I expected Italy to be before I came here.”

i would guess this is how he sees his work. he never claimed to be the best, you can see that with how he always mentions wanting to be better. he wants to give the people a positive view of life. which i can clearly see from the vlogs even, makes you wanna go where he visited.

“A man’s work reveals him. In social intercourse he gives you the surface that he wishes the world to accept, and you can only gain a true knowledge of him by inferences from little actions, of which he is unconscious, and from fleeting expressions, which cross his face unknown to him. Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem.”

another one that i think describes xz. his little actions that we see reveal his true self —- the gentle, funny and dorky xiao zhan which is a contrast to the character he sometimes has to portray. it’s when we talk about his duality, the way he was posing and “game face on” for GUCCI but when he did the interview you can see the dorky xiao zhan 😂

there are times that xiao zhan merges some of the qualities of his celebrity side and i think it’s perfectly person. it is a huge part of his life, and the way i see it, his experiences only make him a better person.

“I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage.

They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known.

Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history.

Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs.

Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth.

Here at last he finds rest.”

read that again. it’s a lovely way to put into words what i imagine is something that not only xz goes through. we know what kind of environment and country he lives in, i’m not trying to get political but you get the point. being a celebrity or public personality like him is vastly different from how it is with the rest of the world. i have always admired how he handles it all with grace, how he he willingly accepts the responsibility and burden of being who he is. and that’s why i was also surprised by his answer when asked about a parallel world and he answers about a superpower where he can make it possible to have no disputes in the world. being in that place, with lots of people around, from different parts of the world probably made him think more about this topic. aside from eating pizza and being his usual beautiful self, he was thinking about some serious issues too.

chapter 1 was about going to a distant place but not really, there was something in that place and experience that feels like a home he longs for.

alternate explanation, this can also mean him living his life as a graphic designer, and then spreading his wings into a different industry — being the place he has sought. but considering the time this was released and where he is now at life, i’m thinking it’s more of the former.

so busy yearning for the moon that he never saw the sixpence at his feet. 🪙

this imagery at the end of the vlog + the coin he holds + the quote fits so well together. the way i see it, XZ is doing both. he appreciates the moon, he looks up to it but he doesn’t miss to see and hold the sixpence. it’s why he is holding on to it, in some, it was even rolling on it’s own towards him. and it’s not just the proverbial sixpence. he is seeing and appreciating his surroundings —- the egg he ate, laundry, bike etc.

as a fan, this is actually comforting to me. the book itself is not the happiest, which makes sense cause xz prefers melodramatic to downright tragic stories. but it shows a realistic view of what some goes through to pursue their dreams. it’s not as glamorous as what we see on tv or the internet. but the end of the vlog, shows that xz is keeping a balance. he is not just busy looking up at the moon— he is also living his life.

-END.

I first knew about the connection of the vlog to the book via 辉夜姬不叽 and i got hooked into writing something about it and reading the source material. i also liked @resonancewitness interpretation of the vlog, particularly the lines in starry starry night.

[ave-cave]

Lucy in Chapter 118: an Analysis 🫧

Hooo boy

Chapter one-eighteen. Where do I even 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷?

Unlike a lot of folks in this fandom (all more imaginative than I could ever hope to be), I had basically no solid predictions for this chapter (or… any chapter thus far, really, and I've been following the manga religiously since 103, so… yeah, there's a reason I'm a BSD analyst, not theorist, lmao). Needless to say, 118 is heartbreak and bombshells galore: Tanizaki and Kenji’s Ame-no-Gozen-ing, the possibility that all of those “Jun'ichirō and Naomi aren't really siblings” theories were just proven dead right, the protagonist and main villain finally meeting because it's about damn time – so on and so forth.

But because a) the fanbase is already abuzz with talk about those things + no doubt in the process of doing them analytical justice, and b) I'm annoying, I’ve decided to dissect the ever-loving hell out of the chapter’s three most innocuous pages: this interaction between Kyōka Izumi and Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Inhales

MY GIRLS ARE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) 

Does a little jig 🎶

Sorry, had to get that out of my system

No, but seriously. Kyōka has been absent since chapter 91. Three whole years; definitely too long for a character of her importance. Lucy, meanwhile, has been out of the picture since chapter 81. That’s four whole years. So in other words, two significant female characters, sidelined for ages, are back. That’s kind of huge, IMO.

Of course, we have a vague idea of what they’ve been up to. Anne's Room has been shown more than once serving as the ADA’s safe haven and base of operations, and so per the rules of AOAR, Lucy must be nearby if not inside herself. Kyōka we see in silhouette form in Anne's Room in chapter 92. But this is the first time in a hot minute we've seen either of them in the flesh, let alone gotten dialogue out of them. I nearly choked on my cereal when I turned the page and saw their faces, lol.

So then, pray tell, what does this long-awaited appearance in the flesh entail? Well…

Lucy and Kyōka:

Right off the bat, Lucy and Kyōka are seen in Anne’s Room (where they’ve ostensibly been this entire time), standing in front of the Exit Door (i.e., the door opposite the prison, which – unless linked to a surface in the real world – will cause those who leave through it to experience amnesia. Not relevant to the scene, just thought I’d give a quick refresher.) The exit is blocked by rubble; the airport, as well as the surrounding buildings, have all been devastated. How to leave Anne's Room at this point is anyone’s guess.

Kyōka suggests Lucy deactivate her ability, but Lucy shuts her down, pointing out that they'll be flattened by rubble if she does. In response, Kyōka does her signature knife-unsheathing and insists, rather ominously, that they'll just have to take a gamble then. Lucy grabs her wrist and tells her to stop, and when Kyōka asks her why, she replies solemnly: “Because… if you died… it would crush him,” this followed by a picture of Atsushi’s smiling face.

YES. YES. YES.

Now THIS is what I love about Lucy and Kyōka’s dynamic. 

In essence, they're rivals. Thing is, they're not your generic “two girls fighting over the same guy” rivals. Kyōka’s feelings toward Atsushi aren’t even romantically-coded. Their shared love for Atsushi doesn’t divide them; it unites them. After all, following the Guild Aftermath arc, the “rivalry” aspect of their relationship has had almost nothing to do with him, instead revolving around their clashing personalities. There, they were only at each other’s throats because Kyōka didn’t like how Lucy, still angry about the Moby Dick, was treating Atsushi, and Lucy didn’t like how Kyōka was standing in the way of her talking things through with him. But once a much-needed heart-to-heart was had between Atsushi and Lucy and the latter turned over a new leaf, there was no longer any reason for her and Kyōka to bicker. Kyōka didn’t have the full context of Lucy’s actions, and was thus within her rights to assume she couldn’t be trusted, but Lucy proved that she could be when she led them to the right boat.

Later on, Lucy showcased that she didn't resent Kyōka when she advocated for her, forcing Atsushi to leave her to her thoughts upon learning the truth of her parents' deaths.

The next chapter, Kyōka calls Lucy’s coffee mediocre, but Lucy herself admits that she isn’t much of a barista, and so the comment is more Kyōka not mincing words than actively trying to be rude. Moreover, Lucy is offended at first, but then concedes without any real hostility.

In the Cannibalism arc, Kyōka is shown bowing politely to Lucy while enlisting her help, even if she is just following Atsushi's lead (and later does the same for Mushitarō).

Fast forward to the Sky Casino arc, Kyōka is miffed by Lucy’s hot-and-cold behavior around Atsushi, but that’s not exactly unique to her...

... and besides, they agree without resistance to work together. In chapter 81 (i.e., the last we saw of Lucy until now), the Agency reunites and Lucy encourages Kyōka to join in on the celebration. Perhaps most notable is chapter 78, wherein the two are lumped into the same category by Ango. He recognizes them both as people who would choose Atsushi over the good of the world, and this nearly drives him to kill them on the spot for fear of what their loyalty could turn into.

In this latest chapter, however, it’s underscored that, while Lucy and Kyōka may be the same in their care for Atsushi on the surface, they’re still – at the end of the day – foil characters. 

Both are orphans. Both were taken in – and subsequently exploited – by criminal organizations for their abilities. Both found their place in the story by virtue of meeting Atsushi. Both are undyingly loyal to Atsushi because of what he’s done for them. That’s about where their similarities end.

Kyōka was introduced as a remorseful killer seeking atonement by death. Atsushi managed to save her (twice, for that matter) in the conventional hero way, cementing himself as her savior and playing into the reckless heroism by which he determines his worth.

Lucy, on the other hand, was introduced as a bitter villain who believed she was justified in lashing out. Atsushi tried, but he couldn’t save her in the traditional hero way. Only his vulnerability managed to get through to her, and if anything, Lucy saved him. This utterly subverted the unhealthy philosophy by which Atsushi had begun to define both himself and his relationships.

Since then, Lucy has been trying at every turn to get Atsushi to see himself as more than just a hero. She reprimands him for his reckless heroism when she sees it. She stops him from inserting himself into other people’s plights uninvited. She confronts him when he fails to understand his relationships beyond the framework of hero and savior. Kyōka, meanwhile, has been doing more or less the opposite: she’s passively allowed Atsushi to keep playing the perpetual hero, and this wouldn’t be the first time she’s taken on his credo of self-sacrifice herself.

All of this in mind, the girls’ thought processes in this chapter are perfectly in line for them: Kyōka tries to push forward without care for what could happen to her, whereas Lucy emphasizes self-preservation.

One might perceive Lucy replying the way she does to Kyōka’s question as callous, but I don’t really think so. She isn’t saying “the only reason you shouldn’t risk your life is because it would make Atsushi sad." She’s applying her philosophy of person > hero to Atsushi and Kyōka both at the same time. She's encouraging Kyōka to be more than just a hero by telling her to think of how it would affect Atsushi as a person if she died.

If Lucy is good at anything, it’s communicating what she wants from people in a way that she knows will get through to them. She did this with Atsushi on the Moby Dick when she bluffed about waiting on his salvation, knowing he would be more motivated to stay alive himself if he thought there was someone counting on him to save them. The same applies in this scenario. She communicates with Kyōka in a way that highlights the reason they get along; the reason they’re both here in the first place. And if the way Kyōka resheathes her knife without a word is any indication, it works.

Lucy knows that she and Atsushi are close, but she knows that Kyōka and Atsushi are closer. Losing her would be the last straw for him. She recognizes their relationship as something beyond hero and savior – something precious. This is nothing out-of-character for her; on the contrary, it’s in keeping with who she’s been all along. All that’s different now is she’s acknowledging it out loud.

Lucy and Atsushi:

When Lucy pictures Atsushi in her mind’s eye, she sees the spirit that would undoubtedly be broken if he were to lose Kyōka. This in and of itself is heartbreaking, but when you consider the greater implications, well…

In the Sky Casino arc, a huge breakthrough was made in Atsushi and Lucy’s relationship. Her elusive “impossible” debt to him was finally repaid, though not in the way you'd expect.

At the time, all Lucy felt she could give in return for Atsushi’s turning her life around was conventional heroism – or in other words, many a close call and many a trip to Anne’s Room. This conventional heroism was a worthless currency in her mind; it wasn’t the kind that saved her, after all. But on the other hand, the vulnerability she so valued in its stead she wasn’t capable of giving; where she came from, being vulnerable was a death sentence. Because of this, how she could ever come close to repaying Atsushi’s ultimate favor was a mystery unto itself. All she knew was that she had to do it one way or another, and that’s where her most glaring flaw – her quid-pro-quo mindset – came into play, eventually driving her so far as to override her own philosophy and embody the reckless hero she so discouraged Atsushi from being.

But when Atsushi saved her from Nathaniel – thereby repaying her for her acts of service as he’d promised so many times he would – she realized that, just as her care for Atsushi doesn’t depend on his being a hero, Atsushi's care for her doesn’t depend on her being vulnerable. The illusion was shattered.

From this point forward, Lucy is no longer helping Atsushi out of a sense of indebtedness. She's doing it because she wants to – because she truly, genuinely cares. Not the artificial kind of care that comes with repaying a debt, but the kind that she showcases when she stays by Atsushi’s side after he faints, pressing a cold towel to his face. The kind that involves refusing to hurt Atsushi in any way, even to jog potentially vital memories.

Lucy considering what Kyōka’s death would do to Atsushi’s psyche is a perfect continuation of this new leaf she’s turned over, but it also goes to show that her shared arc with Atsushi is far from finished.

Lucy’s development has always been structured rather uniquely. Each arc she’s appeared in has worked either to establish or address her current most glaring flaw, more often than not in unexpected ways. Her appearance in the first half of the Guild arc established her villainous façade as just that – a façade – by having it crumble as she realized the kind of person she was up against in Atsushi. The second half addressed her unhealthy attachment to the Guild by having Atsushi dissuade her from villainy via empathy. The Guild Aftermath arc added the finishing touch to all of this – the last little push needed to propel Lucy into her new role – by addressing her and Atsushi’s “promise” on the Moby Dick. The Cannibalism arc subtly established her quid-pro-quo mindset, which the Sky Casino arc would then go on to address.

Another great subversion of the tropes usually involved in these dynamics is that, despite Lucy being the closest thing to Atsushi’s “love interest,” only he’s managed to bolster her development – not the other way around. This isn’t for lack of trying, of course; Lucy tries. But Atsushi is a tough nut to crack. The fact that she’s still, nearly 15 chapters later, trying to steer Atsushi away from heroism and toward personhood – albeit indirectly – is testament to this.

If she could reach him now, she’d no doubt be trying even still. She’d be conveying to him that none of his friends’ deaths so far has been his fault – that he can’t be expected to carry the burden of hero to all when the world is going to hell in a handbasket. But she can’t reach him. She’s trapped, and so is Kyōka. Thus is the cruel irony.

Anne's Room:

Anne of Abyssal Red has played a key role in pretty much everything plot-related up to this point. To that end, it’s only appropriate that its owner finally appearing alongside it would grant it extra significance.

Lucy’s last line in this chapter is as follows: “So the enemy… even took this into account.” She’s right: Fyodor had countermeasures against her ability. That said, I don’t think this is attributable solely to Fyodor being, well… Fyodor.

AOAR is in the same ballpark narrative-wise as, say, For The Tainted Sorrow in that it’s overpowered to the point of detriment. It’s Lucy’s playground; the product of an imagination run wild due to crippling loneliness. This in and of itself is scary. An ability having rules that malleable is automatically dangerous, as it means that, while its wielder can bend and exploit said rules, so can an enemy. In both major fights Lucy has been a part of, the rules of Anne’s Room being molded to favor her opponent has spelled either victory or loss on her end: Atsushi used the prison room loophole against her, and she indirectly used the transportation loophole against Nathaniel. Hell, her capture by the Guild following her betrayal was thanks to the loophole that, while Anne couldn’t be defeated, she could be restrained.

So basically, for as powerful as AOAR is, underneath that power lies a shaky foundation. Power doesn’t always mean stability, and this is underscored by the fact that, at the end of the day, Anne is only infallible in terms of strength; she could only do so much to alleviate Lucy’s loneliness growing up (which is honestly a pretty clever mirror to her conflict of strength vs. vulnerability with Atsushi).

With Anne’s Room nullified by Fyodor, Lucy has truly nothing at her disposal. She's not physically strong (she’s 165 cm and 44 kg, so… yeah ˙◠˙), and while by no means stupid, she doesn’t repeatedly say in this chapter that she doesn’t know what to do next for no reason. Anne’s Room is all she’s ever had. While at the orphanage, it was her only comfort. While in the Guild, it was her only value. With Atsushi, it was all she had to offer in return for his ultimate favor.

This, I feel, could be the establishing point for the next portion of her arc. She could strive to find a way out of the rubble, working together with Kyōka, and in the process learn to break away from her ability as what defines her role in all of this. One thing's for sure: something has to be done sooner or later – otherwise, they'll starve.

I dunno, maybe that’s wishful thinking given how much is already going on. But either way, I’ll hope against hope that this isn’t some one-off return, because Lucy has proven time and time again that she has a lot to offer to the story, both plot-wise and thematically.

Thanks for reading. :)

[phantoms-planet]

Barred Protection Chapter Five

This one is short, I am sick of writing in this chapter and just want to get to the next part so I'm saving us all a several months long writers block and posting it "unfinished" instead. It's also unedited. This chapter is the definition of Started Making It, Had a Breakdown, Bon Appetite. Hope it's enjoyable anyway.

No tw besides medical settings.

Ao3

First | Previous | Next

---

Tim didn’t like being used as a prop to get Bruce into Ameliorate, he didn’t like being poked and prodded for over an hour by Percy Daelus while Bruce sweet talked the man, and he most definitely didn’t like the results from the analysis that he had just finished on the medication he’d been prescribed.

Most of the contents made sense but there was one chemical that wasn’t like anything in their system. And they had a lot of chemicals in their system.

“Tim?” He flipped around to see Duke trotting to him. “We got the stuff you asked for.”

Tim took the bag he offered with a short nod before turning back to the table and riffling through it. When he realized there was an unknown ingredient, he asked Duke and Damian to get him different medicines and cure-alls from the company, any they could get their hands on. If this strange chemical was in one of them, it very well could have been in more.

He tried to ignore Duke hovering as he prepared the machine for another round. Damian had taken perch on a chair to the side. “Tt, are you certain there is an unknown-?”

“Yes.” Tim snapped. “I tested it six times.”

“Maybe the machine is wrong?” Duke sounded hesitant to suggest it. Tim stopped what he was doing to turn to him with an unimpressed, flat expression. “Or…you know, maybe not.”

---

Daelus listened carefully to the child’s heart, struggling to hear it past the labored breathing. Thankfully it seemed healthy. When he pulled away and slid the stethoscope back around his neck the young boy’s mother was watching him closely.

He offered her a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, the cold is minor. It’s nothing we can’t handle for sure.” The relief that washed over her face was more rewarding than anything else in the world. “I’ll have the nurse prepare your first dose, and then you can pick up the rest of the medication at the front pharmacy, alright?”

“Thank you.” The mother slumped back in her chair. He understood why she would be so scared for her baby. Not even a year old and the poor thing was sick as a dog.

He left the room as quietly as possible while flagging down his current nurse. Once she had been filled in Daelus made his way to his personal office.

Normally on clinic days he would spend the whole ten or so hours seeing as many patients as possible but today was a special case; he had another meeting with Bruce Wayne. After meeting Tim (who was remarkably healthy for missing a spleen, if quite sleep deprived) Mr. Wayne seemed much more comfortable with Daelus.

That in and of itself was a massive relief. With one of the world’s favorite billionaires on its side, Amiliorite could finally start stage three of operations. Moving global would be hard without support from a well-liked celebrity, and Daelus much preferred when things ran smoothly.

There wasn’t much time to clean up before one of his front desk workers opened the door. Daelus went to greet Bruce with a smile. One that didn’t get returned.

“I have concerns.”

Daelus furrowed his brows. “Is there an issue with Tim’s medicine? I was certain we’d prescribed-“

Bruce, normally jovial and frankly ditzy, was looking far more serious than Daelus was familiar with. “I had my scientists look at your medications. There’s something in them that they can’t identify.”

In giving Bruce permission to test the medications Daelus knew there was a chance that subject P’s tears could be isolated. He simply hadn’t thought it would happen. Inwardly he cursed himself for not expecting the Wayne Enterprises scientists to be able to figure it out.

“Oh that,” Daelus tried another smile. “That’s nothing to worry about. My people did rigorous testing to ensure-“

“What is it?”

“What is the substance?” Daelus asked.

“Yes.” Bruce said, tone sharp and cold.

“Ah, well we refer to it as Healosol.” He pronounced the word like ‘heal us all’, slow and deliberate, hoping the name would ease some of Bruce’s worries. “My scientists synthesized it themselves. It took years to develop and years more to test. We’ve ensured that it is entirely safe for human consumption. Not just safe, actually, but wholly beneficial!”

Unfortunately Bruce didn’t seem quite as comforted as Daelus had hoped. His coldness was replaced with a thoughtful edge that made him more than a little nervous. If Bruce vocally opposed the company, it would be disastrous.

It had taken most of his adult life to get the company up off the ground and especially in Gotham the process was nowhere near easy.

Dealus had forgone personal relationships to further Ameliorate. His physical health would be tanked if it weren’t for the medicines that he made for his own use. He slept in one of his offices practically every night, barely entering his own apartment. Everything he had was thrown into making it work. If it didn’t work-

Anxiety tangled through his ribcage. They had helped so many people in Gotham and the neighboring cities already but he didn’t want to stop there. How many people in the world were sick, dying, wallowing?

They could save so much more. Subject P was producing enough to help entire countries! But no one would want their aid if one of the most influential men in the world scorned their product.

Before he could calm the storm of frantic thoughts Dealus blurted out, “What if I gave you a tour of the synthesizing facility?”

His heart jack knifed but he couldn’t take the words back. That facility was where Subject P was held! If the tour went in the wrong area-

“I would like that. Would I be able to speak with your scientists?” Bruce’s demeanor had softened significantly, even with the tension still in his shoulders.

Mr. Wayne was known to take in young children in dire situations. With subject P’s chosen form he would pull at anyone’s hearts who didn’t understand what was happening.

“Of course! I’ll have them prepare material for you to look over. So long as it doesn’t get spread everywhere, of course. I trust you not to steal our company secrets.” The last sentence sounded more hesitant. Daelus nearly flinched. It was supposed to have sounded like a jest.

Bruce finally smiled again. “Of course not. But if what I see is good, I hope a partnership might be on the table?”

A partnership? With Wayne Enterprises?! All of Dealus’s anxieties washed away. With THE Wayne Enterprises on their side they could take the world by storm, faster than just having Bruce endorse the product himself.

“That would be fantastic, Mr. Wayne! Shall we have the tour this Saturday? I can arrange transportation for you.”

After getting all the details hashed out, Daelus led Bruce back to the front desk. A warm goodbye later and he was back in his office making a call.

“Sir?”

“Carter, we need to make preparations. Mr. Wayne will be touring Facility Zero on Saturday.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, sir?”

“Of course I am.” Daelus grabbed a pen from his cup and started clicking it open and closed. “Think about the doors this will open!”

“But if he finds the subject this whole thing is going to get shut down.”

Daelus knew he should feel concerned about that, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to worry when the chance of a lifetime was sitting right in his lap. “He won’t find it, and you are going to help make sure of that.”

A tired sigh came through the speaker. “Yes sir. What do you need me to do?”

[tehrevving]

What has been Vincent's thoughts on reader? Especially the latest date fiasco and his moody reveal turning into probably the best bj of his life

Holy crap this answer got so long and drops so much unrevealed lore lmao. Enjoy!

My general characterisation of Vincent with regards to sex is that he is very interested in giving, but not so much receiving. Most of his sexual experience was with women at 'Turk Academy', who gravitated towards him because he was great at eating out and didn't expect too much in return. Vincent is demi and bi in my fic, but has a preference for women (because they make more mess lmao), not sure if that's relevant but *shrug*.

Due to him being demi, most of his experience being casual and how Lucrecia used him (which I've hinted at a little bit). He doesn't see fingering/eating out/etc as things that are overly emotional or complicated. Especially in the 'modern' day, as he can just keep his clothes on during all of it.

Reader made a deliberate effort in the beginning to understand him and get closer to him, just as a friend of course, but I don't think it's too surprising that he 'latched on' to the first person to take an interest in actually getting to know him in a long time. I do wish I'd added an extra chapter near the beginning to make this a bit more clear lol, but oh well.

After Hojo's experiments on him, he doesn't think anyone could ever want him. He actually is that person covering the bathroom mirrors and showering in the dark lol. He interprets Reader initially showing sexual interest in him, not as her actually wanting him, but as her wanting him to pleasure her, which he has no problem with doing.

She tries to address this in chapter 9 (the one after the stargazing but before the eating out), and explicitly tells him that she wants more, but he's so in denial that while he says he'll try and be better, in his mind he doesn't believe her, and to cope with it reverts to trying to ignore all of it with sex. Which was basically his relationship with Lucrecia lol, everything is too complicated so we'll just fuck and ignore all of it.

Vincent caught feelings after the fight where he transforms and the conversation afterwards. He didn't realise that's what was happening at the time, and has been in extreme denial about it. A lot of his back and forth behaviour has been him trying to reconcile his feelings with his own self-doubt and just general trauma and issues, and that he generally didn't see sex as a big deal, until suddenly it is.

All of this then builds up to the point where he just can't handle it anymore. He hasn't tried getting off after all of the experimentation, and finds that he can't on his own. I might write this as an extra chapter one day, but I feel like he can't push himself over that metaphorical edge because of his self-loathing, hatred and fear of losing control over his own body.

When he asks her for help getting off that first time, he's actually asking for a lot of unspoken things. The fact that she doesn't shy away from him, is very enthusiastic, and works within his boundaries, is a huge deal. That interaction gives Vincent hope that all of this might work.

Which brings us to the Gold Saucer date. I love this chapter. It might not be super obvious, but almost every single interaction that the two of them have with the attractions and the other group members has narrative significance. (send me another ask and I'll do a whole analysis on that lol)

Vincent decides that he is going to use this time at the Gold Saucer as a test, to see if he thinks that he can make this work. Vincent has a lot of hangups about his body and that he's not normal. He has quite an old fashioned mentality about courting someone, dating etc (but not fucking lmao). And is very aware that he can't take her out to share a meal/drinks, or do a lot of general date things. He considers this to be a huge deal.

He starts off in a good mood but grows continually frustrated throughout the night as he is reminded of all of his perceived shortcomings, and the fact that none of them seem to bother her.

By the time the G-bike VR is finished, that frustration reaches its peak and Vincent is sort of minutes away from losing control and transforming. She tries to comfort him, but he realises that nothing she says to him will work. Like, she says it's not a big deal that he can't play VR, when that's not the problem, the problem is that he is so inhuman that even a computer is rejecting him. He tries to remove himself from the situation as fast as he can and storms off. At the beginning of the date, he had some hope that he wouldn't have to reject her, but at this point he is completely convinced that he is going to, even if he has to be forceful about it.

He just stews in his own anger and self-loathing, not noticing anything around him or how his emotions are actually physically affecting her. When she calls him out on it and he actually looks at her and sees that she is basically shaking and paralysed with fear (I think I played this down in the actual chapter, but in my first draft this shit was intense), he realises that he needs to control himself. The fact that she followed him and is still trying to help him even though he is making her feel like that dissipates a lot of his anger and just leaves him with the frustration.

He doesn't want to reveal too much about the experimentations that were done to him, and honestly I think he doesn't quite understand the implications of a lot of it either. So he tries to explain while glossing over a lot of it, which means he ends up talking about more of his general human sexual trauma instead lol.

He figured that she might not shy away from the monster arm. He had hoped that showing her that would just explain everything, but of course it doesn't. I think that Vincent's self-loathing means that he's not that good at predicting how other people will react. When he thinks through conversations in his head, he assumes everyone has a terrible opinion of him to start with. So, she catches him off guard when she talks about how she already knows he's a 'monster' and doesn't care.

He continually keeps throwing out these bullshit reasons, that ignore her feelings on the matter and she's sick of it. She realises that she needs to hold him the fuck down, make him shut up and realise that she doesn't care about his dumb excuses. But at the same time, she's also smart enough to realise that it'll just make it worse if she forces him. It's important that it's him that takes his clothes off, exposes himself, pulls her into position etc. I really like that scene and the buildup because it's clear that they're both trying to show and enforce consent while being angry and not talking about it.

As for the actual blowjob. Look, she sucked his soul out through his dick and he is now 100% ride-or-die committed. He has never had anyone treat his body with any actual care. Obviously the experiments were bad, but even before that, having had mostly one night stands and then of course Lucrecia. He hasn't ever had someone care for him like that before. The fact that Reader is showing that care for the first time on his ruined, experimented-on body, destroys him. The way that she checks in on him, reassures him, and has taken note of his own cues (The 'I'm here', is so fucking important), convinces him. All of those things are the actual, polar opposite to how Lucrecia treated him (and I do intend to write a prequel about that too lol)

I love their little sex affirmations. My fave part of the fic honestly. The way that they can bounce off each other, reassure each other and show understanding with a just a few words or hair pulls. I love it lol.

Anyway, Vincent starts acting a bit differently after the Gold Saucer date, and I am so excited to show you all. I am writing furiously, but these things can't be rushed lol.

[henrysglock]

An Addition To My Big TFS Analysis Piece re: Jim and Brenner

This hit me a couple days ago when I was discussing the Russian Prison Arc with Wilbur.

In Chapters 1 and 10, I discussed the over-the-top nature of Brenner's more aggressive interactions with Henry, and I connect that to parallels between Jim, Brenner, Hopper Sr., and Captain Brenner. I've included the relevant excerpts from both chapters just to catch people up.

Chapter 1:

"As I described earlier, [Brenner] works Henry up with shouting, intimidation, and low-ball insults to get Henry riled up enough to show his hand on his own, and then he follows it up immediately with comfort. It's as if he wants to get Henry upset without actually hurting him, and he uses non-violent physical intimidation paired with relatively low-impact digs to achieve that goal. His behavior very much brings to mind both Kali and on-screen Henry's path to accessing their powers: Something that makes you sad, but also angry. Brenner seems to be pulling on things that make Henry sad, angry, and/or fearful in order to bring out his abilities (or to draw out the Mindflayer, which Henry himself admitted was attracted to fear). He's just doing it in a way that isn't hurtful enough to drive Henry away."

Chapter 10:

"That particular interaction precedes a scene between young Jim Hopper and Lonnie Byers, wherein Jim impersonates his own father, as well as a couple other nameless cops, to intimidate "Victor" (read: Lonnie mistaken for Victor) into fessing up about his alleged hand in the attic attack involving Patty and Mr. Newby. Jim does a fairly good job with the voice and props, but he breaks character up multiple times. He's not authentically gruff the way Jim Hopper Sr. is. He's not authentically mean enough, and he’s not good enough of a liar to pull it off the entire time. He reacts genuinely, and then he scrambles to turn it into a Hopper Sr.-like reaction. It's good enough to fool Lonnie, a drunk, but not good enough to fool the audience. There's one last piece in that specific Lonnie-Jim scene that I’d like to take note of. Jim sets off a firecracker in a metal bucket to simulate a warning gunshot to try and spook "Victor" (Lonnie) into talking. This part stood out as noteworthy because it sets the precedent that Jim was never actually intending to do any harm. It sounded real, but there was never a gun at all. It was a bluff intended to get "Victor" (Lonnie) to behave. There was never any real danger at all. Brenner and Henry's relationship in The First Shadow very much runs in parallel to Jim's foray into impersonation. The hollering and the intimidation is all reminiscent of Neil, Lonnie, and Captain Brenner. You have to be your father. Much like Jim, Brenner’s not quite there in terms of action, though. Despite the very military-style tactic of break-down-build-up that Brenner tries to use on Henry, he's not a commanding military man like his father. He's not willing to take that next step into physicality like Neil and Lonnie did with their sons, just like Jim isn't able or willing to actually threaten "Victor" with a gun the way Hopper Sr. would have. Brenner would rather have a partnership with Henry, just like how Hopper hopes his bluff is enough to get "Victor" to cooperate without physicality.

I didn't realize until now that Jim in filmed canon uses the exact same antagonization strategy on Dmitri/"Enzo" (read: called Henry but not actually Henry, see: Henry vs Edward) that TFS Brenner does with Henry.

Observe:

Jim gets in Dmitri's face and uses performative low-ball insults meant to upset him. He does it to start a fight specifically aiming to get both of them out of a dangerous situation/help them prepare for an upcoming fight against a demogorgon:

And he doesn't let Dmitri know that that was his plan. He just starts acting like an aggressive asshole, insulting the man's wife and kid "out of nowhere", and resolves to tell Dmitri the truth about it later.

Also...Mikhail is stupid, you say? And Jim should stop talking?

On top of that, there's also this bit re: Henry, Patty, and Brenner.

The reason, in TFS, that Henry breaks things off with Brenner is that he has to get back to Patty...who for a good portion of Act II believes Henry to be a traitor. She believes he attacked her and her father maliciously in the attic, and that she can't tell anyone about it because Henry is "always listening" (let it be known that Henry was not, in fact, attacking maliciously, and that he has far too much on his plate at that point in time to be stalking Patty).

It's only when Mr. Newby tells her she has to save Henry from the red Mindflayer that Patty turns her perspective around. In returning to her, Henry is proving that he is not a traitor.

I've spoken at length about Patty and Henry's familial overtones, particularly the father-daughter aspects of their relationship, namely in Chapters 7, 8, and 9. Especially given Patty's heavy El parallels, the Mike-El father-daughter overtones, and now Jim behaving like Brenner while grilling "Enzo/Henry" about his son Mikhail...not to mention:

As they say:

Every day I feel more secure in my theory that TFS Brenner was putting on an aggressive act that did not come naturally to him/his aggression towards Henry was performative and utilitarian at its core with the aim of getting a grasp on the Mindflayer so that he could analyze and resolve the situation (though altruism obviously may not have been his only goal re: helping Henry)...just like Jim with Dmitri and the Demogorgon.