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1moreff-creator · 1 year ago

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(01) Levi Fontana - First Trial (DRDT-Milgram AU)

Hey there! We’re officially starting the First trial, and it’s Levi’s turn! With his Voice Drama: Minimalism, and his Music Video (concept): Torn Stitches! As well as the voting at the end (I'm using Tumblr one week polls to not overcomplicate things). I’ve decided (for now at least) not to do post-MV interrogation questions because… I don’t know what to do with them? They would just be a bunch of headcanons for the most part, so I don’t think they would be too important. I might make them later, but not now.

Anyways. Below is a vague, not entirely serious attempt at a thumbnail for this "video" (ID in alt text). The sprite is from the official gallery of course.

CW murder and blood (description of a fight). Not afiliated with either DRDT or Milgram.

One clarification I should have probably made in Undercover: all of these prisoner’s backstories are set in the US, because that’s where the DRDT characters are from (minus possibly Teruko). This isn’t really important for Levi, but it may come up later so.

Also another thing I forgot! The idea for this AU came from this post by sunlit-haru! Thanks for the brainrot buddy!

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Voice Drama - Minimalism

(Keep in mind this Es’ personality isn’t the same as canon, but rather it’s loosely based on a certain DRDT character)

*Footsteps*

Es: [Upbeat voice] Hello, Prisoner Number 01! It’s nice to meet you.

Levi: Hm… Interesting. The uniform is designed to impose a sense of authority, that much is clear from the cape and the hat. The dark clothing enhances the effect, with the gloves-

E: Uh… what?

L: Oh! Apologies. Your outfit is quite intriguing, and… well, observing that kind of thing is a bit of a nervous habit of mine.

E: Uh… huh. Well, that’s… nice! *Shuffling* Do you like it? It’s a bit more dramatic than what I’d usually wear, but I guess it’s fitting.

L: Oh? What is it you usually wear?

E: …

L: Warden?

E: Oh! Just call me Es! What’s your name, anyways? It would be kinda awkward to just keep calling you Zero One or something.

L: … Oh. Right, where are my manners? Levi Fontana, a pleasure.

E: Nice to meet you Levi! Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?

L: Well… I’m XX* years old. I work as a personal stylist in a pretty large company. Uh, I’ve lived alone for a while now, and, uh...

*(Note: DRDT characters are all of an unspecified, adult college age. Understand Levi is saying a number here, I’m just not committing to a specific age)

E: …

L: …

E: …And?

L: Well, not much else. I’m not a very interesting person, I apologize.

E: No, no! That’s all very interesting! But, well, there’s… how do I put this. There’s something in particular I was hoping you'd bring up? Something I feel we… kinda have to talk about?

L: Is that so?

E: Well… this is an interrogation, you know? And here in Milgram, there is a particular aspect of your life that we’re sorta more interested in, you see.

L: Oh, the murder?

E: … Yes, the murder.

L: I imagined. You have mentioned everyone in this prison is a killer, yes? That TV-cat thing has repeated the same a few times.

E: [Oddly serious] It’s a dog, actually.

L: … Really?

E: *Clears throat* Like you said, all of you have taken lives. Interrogating these situations is the fundamental purpose of Milgram.

L: I see. And you know we are murderers without a shadow of a doubt? I would find that quite impressive.

E: Milgram has deigned you murderers, and I have full faith it is right in its assessment.

L: Very well. In that case, yes, I am a murderer.

E: … Just like that?

L: Well, yes. I killed someone. That makes a murderer, does it not?

E: Uh, yeah, but… you seem oddly calm about this.

L: Am I? I suppose this is not quite how most people would confess to murder. But if I’m frank, I cannot bring myself to pretend to be sorry for what I did.

E: Oh! That’s… huh.

L: …

E: I mean, why? Why do you not regret it? Surely killing someone is something no one would ever want to do, right?

L: Perhaps that’s how you view it, but… well. The person I killed had to die. It’s as simple as that.

E: … Well, that’s a- That’s a pretty simplistic view, which is fine, I suppose. Isn’t that a bit cold-hearted, though?

L: I have been told that, yes. Hm... I suppose I should watch the other prisoners to learn how normal murderers should handle themselves.

E: Huh? I don’t think… Wait, why is that your first instinct?

L: Oh? Well… I have never been very good with my emotions. It’s usually better if I simply act the way normal people act.

E: That doesn’t sound healthy.

L: Perhaps. It… hasn’t always worked out very well. I thought if I acted more like my family… ah, I probably shouldn’t talk about that kind of thing.

E: Hm?

L: Yeah, ignore that.

E: Uh, if you say so... But that’s still quite a bit to unpack there.

L: Is it?

E: *sigh* Alright, listen. I have a lot to say about… that, but we have only a limited amount of time, and I still don’t know anything about your murder.

L: Hm.

E: Look, Levi. I am not here to merely condemn you for what you’ve done. I am here to decide if you are Forgiven or Unforgiven. But as of now, I have little to make that judgement. If you just explain what happened, I'm sure you'll be able to convince me to Forgive- augh!

*Chair being pushed, something falls*

L: Es?

E: Ugh- *Shuffling noises* Stand down. I am fine.

L: Are… you certain?

E: [Noticeably more serious] As I was saying. To make a proper judgement, I must be deeply aware of the intricacies of your crime. Explain yourself.

L: Wait. Why did you just-?

E: Irrelevant. Zero One, explain yourself.

L: … Alright, I suppose? But unfortunately, it is probably for the best if I refrain from speaking of my crime.

E: What- What do you mean, Levi?

L: I am… not good with words, either. I fear by attempting to explain myself, I will only make things worse. From what I understand, you will be able to see directly into my mind? I believe that would be the best way for you to truly understand what I’ve done.

E: Really? You know you won’t have control of what’s shown, right? For all you know, it could show things as worse than they actually are! Don’t you want to clarify things now that you can?

L: You speak as if I have full control of my words. Frankly, I fear that my temper might flare up if… if I think about that piece of shit for too long.

E: !

L: Oh, apologies! I did not mean to... *sigh* See what I mean?

E: Oh! No, you just… startled me is all. Why don’t you tell me more about this, uh, piece of… the person you’re talking about?

L: …

E: …Why are you looking at me like you want to kill me?

L: Ah. Apologies. That anger was not directed at you. As I said, it is difficult for me to talk about… about him without growing angry. And that’s- that’s something I have been trying to work on.

E: I… see. That’s a shame.

L: It is not important. I have always been of the opinion that actions define people better than words ever could, especially when it comes to me. That video will probably show you the circumstances of my crime much better than I ever could.

E: Hm… I understand! But, without knowing what it’s going to show, aren’t you worried I might not Forgive you for it?

L: Hm… If I am frank, I do not yet know how to feel about this… Forgiveness you speak of.

E: Oh?

L: Well, I believe I did the right thing. I am not sure your words would change my mind. So, I am not worried about what you think of me.

E: Uh… do you even know what happens if you’re not Forgiven?

L: I do not. Can I ask what the consequences are?

E: …

L: … Do you… not know either?

E: I mean, it could be pretty bad, you know?

L: That’s not very convincing-

*Machinery whirs*

L: Hm?

E: Oh. Looks like we ran out of time. The extraction machine is starting.

L: I see.

E: *sigh* Very well! I’ll keep your words in mind! Let’s see what your actions say about what kind of person you are.

L: I suppose that would be fair.

E: In that case.

Prisoner 01, Levi Fontana: sing your sins!

(Oh wow I actually wrote a full VD. I mean, I think it's shorter than normal VDs, but I ain’t writing all that. Hope that was good enough)

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Trial 1 Cover: Panda Hero by HACHI

(Because I am unburdened by the laws of the land (copyright), I can give these people any song to cover I want! Hehe. I’ll keep it Vocaloid only, you know, for fun. Probably imagine the covers in English, since the songs in the MVs are written to work in English)

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Music Video - Torn Stitches

(So obviously I’m not going to actually make a song, I am not a musician to any extent, but I will make lyrics. Text between brackets is explaining what’s going on musically. Text in parenthesis are author’s note. Text in italics and citation thingy are lyrics. The rest is a description of the video)

(Also because no one has to animate this I get to go a little wild hehe)

[Silence]

The video opens on a shot of Levi with a black background, wearing a plain white shirt, leggings and shoes, standing with a hand on his chin and his eyes closed. He’s surrounded by clothes racks full of similar white shirts. The shot widens through a doorway, showing the room Levi is standing in is lit up by bright blue lights, and its floor is made up of white tiles (like the thumbnail room). A small sign is visible over the doorway. It reads “For self-expression.”

[Drumsticks are hit against each other as an opener. The classic “1, 2, 3, 4”]

Levi opens his eyes. On beat with the drumsticks, the lighting in the room changes around him, along with the sign on the door.

Orange lighting fills the room as the sign reads “Streetwear.” There are several shirts and pants spread across the ground.

Then it’s red lighting alongside “For the family.” Mannequins (like the ones you'd find at clothes stores) without clothes surround Levi.

Purple lighting, “Work clothes.” Desks replace the mannequins.

Finally, it switches back to blue with the “For self-expression” sign.

[The music kicks in fully. Imagine… Oh it is hard to describe music when you know nothing about it huh? Just- vaguely punk rock, somewhat fast paced. Metaphorically, it sounds like someone’s anger boiling just under their skin. Think of the beginning of Kotoko’s cover of Anti-Beat extended across most of the song. Does that even fit the genre I said? I have no idea]

Still with blue light, there’s a shot of his back as he quickly puts on the light blue polo shirt he wears in canon. A pop-up appears, pointing at it with text reading:

Blue Polo Shirt

Casual, simple, pragmatic. The color could speak of a calm and reliable person, but it may come off as too cold by itself.

Next, a shot of his hand as he puts on a black fingerless glove.

Black Gloves

Stylish accessory which signifies a person of action. Black is easy to combine with other colors for good aesthetics.

We see the top half of Levi’s body as he walks forward, a title card appearing to fill up time. The camera focuses on his feet, wearing black boots, as he steps though the door. It lingers for another pop-up to appear.

Black Boots

Stylish. Useful for people who walk a hard path.

[The music slows down to let the lyrics take center stage. Again, I’m sorta using Anti-Beat as a basis]

The sun rises in the East, But I can feel none of its warmth.

We’re still in the same room as before, except the lighting has changed to orange. Levi looks at several blank mannequins wearing different clothes and facing different ways. The shot focuses on three of them, and pop-ups appear for their clothes.

Light Green Dress

A welcoming color that may be worn by a friendly, calm person.

Yellow Shirt

A warm and happy color. The user might be going through a joyous moment of their life.

Blue Denim Shorts

Simple, safe choice, for someone who may pay attention to their appearance, but doesn’t think about it too much.

Black Tank Top

Sporty, good for athletic people. Safe choice, but may sometimes represent someone’s despair.

White Shorts

Perfect for going on a run in the warmer parts of the year.

It switches to another two.

Pink Dress

Simple and upbeat. Good for more cutesy aesthetics.

Orange Shirt

Warm, inviting, happy. Incidentally, it’s a complementary color to blue.

It’s hard for a heart to beat, (I) When it is frozen as a rock (II)

(I) The lighting changes to purple as we get a front-facing shot of Levi walking past a desk. A mannequin sits on the other side, and a pop-up appears on its clothes.

Suit and Tie

Professional, but uncomfortable. This particular user really needs the work, but they do not like it.

(II) Then, we see him next to another mannequin. Levi is staring at this one, which is facing a clothes rack. A pop-up appears on its clothes, but also on a green hoodie in the clothes rack.

Neon Yellow Hoodie

Apologies, this one is too hideous to analyze.

Light Green Hoodie

They’re going to pick this one. It’s better for their aesthetic.

Yet…

We get a close-up of Levi sighing.

[The music begins building up, with fast drum beats in between lyrics. The lyrics themselves are quick and abrupt]

I have to make it work

Now with red lighting, Levi is sitting at a table, eating spaghetti. He’s no longer wearing gloves.

Next to him sit two teenage boys (not mannequins) with short hair of the same color as Levi’s, though their eyes aren’t drawn. Plates of spaghetti are also in front of them. The one on Levi’s right (our left) is wearing the following shirt, with another pop-up.

Heartbreaker Shirt

His favorite.

Meanwhile, on Levi’s left, the other boy’s shirt looks like this, with the pop-up:

Party Shirt

His favorite.

For the ones that even I can love

The scene switches to the head of the table. On it sits an older man with glasses and a grey shirt with black stains.

Glasses

He’s smart.

Grey Shirt.

His favorite.

The boy with the Party Shirt is still somewhat visible to the man’s right. To his left, another teenage boy, this one with hair covering his eyes and hunched over in his chair, who has this shirt:

Theater Shirt

His favorite.

A middle aged woman sits to that boy’s left, across from where Levi would be. She has long brown hair, and like the other two, her eyes aren’t drawn. She’s wearing bronze, reddish earrings shaped like camellias, and a black dress.

Bronze Earrings

A gift from my father. She likes them.

Black Dress

Her favorite.

The things they feel and I do not

The camera focuses on one last person, but only their smiling mouth and shirt are visible.

Skull Shirt

His favorite.

I’ll take them all and with them sow…

Back to Levi, the table disappears, but he’s still sitting. The lighting has changed to blue, and now he’s only wearing the blue polo shirt (and grey pants). The two boys which had been next to him have changed into clothes hangers holding their shirts. Levi looks around confused, before his gaze lingers on making eye contact with the center of the screen.

[Chorus! The instrumental kicks it up a notch. The lyrics are very growly, leaning on Levi’s deep voice to give them some power (what am I saying again?)]

A patchwork heart beating along! (I) Can’t collapse, now keep it warm! (II) Even if it’s freezing, I’ll just fix it, make the passion thaw! (III)

(I) The camera flips, and this is shown:

The heart pumps with the beat of the song.

(II) Back to Levi, who quickly turns to the shirts on the clothes hanger. His expression still looks a bit aghast.

(III) The camera focuses on the Skull Shirt on a hanger, zooming in. It turns back to Levi, who becomes more serious. He nods.

A patchwork heart beating along! Can’t collapse, now keep it warm! Even if it’s freezing, I’ll just fix it, make the passion thaw!

As the chorus repeats, Levi grabs the shirt he was looking at. Then, we get a few frames of him sowing things just off screen. Shots of needles, thread, that kinda stuff.

[There’s a small instrumental part to keep the energy from the chorus for a bit longer]

We get a full shot of the heart, which now looks like this:

Then, we see Levi smiling looking at it. However, he then frowns.

A patchwork heart beating along!

The camera focuses on one of the black sections of the heart, the one which before just had fire. Now, the full symbol the Skull Shirt had is seen; skull and fire.

[More instrumental for a moment]

Levi looks on perturbed. Suddenly, he startles and turns around.

[Back to verse music]

All lives yearn for a yarn to spin, (I) Yet I fear I’m losing the thread. (II)

(I) Purple lighting. The same mannequin as before, wearing the same neon yellow hoodie, is holding out the green hoodie from before for Levi to see.

(II) We zoom in on Levi’s face, as he turns to the side, and frowns a bit.

The mirror used to build up what’s “me”, I see it now, it starts to break.

Without overhead lighting, we see a full body mirror showing a completely different scene, which becomes clearer as we zoom in further. On our left, we see a mannequin wearing a grey hoodie, an orange spotlight shining on it. On our right, the boy with the Skull Shirt looks animated, his mouth open as if talking to the mannequin. His hair is the same color as the others’, except for red highlights (think the blond part of Mikoto’s hair). There is a red spotlight on him. A pop-up appears pointing at the mannequin’s hoodie.

Grey Hoodie

Commonly used by villains.

Yet…

We further zoom in on the mannequin’s right hand, which is stained by a splatter of black liquid.

[Chorus build-up again]

If I could get it right

The purple lighting returns as Levi looks back at the mannequin with the yellow hoodie. He nods, and we get a close up of him snapping his fingers.

But there’s little that I can do fine

The mannequin now has blush on, wearing the green hoodie with a yellow shirt underneath. It’s also wearing a deep purple skirt. A pop-up.

Proposed Outfit

At least I’m not bad at this.

Even smaller things feel like they’re too much

Red lighting, on a shot of Levi’s back. He turns around, but we can’t see his face. The shot switches to show the back of the “skull shirt” boy, again lit up by a red spotlight. We also see as the back of the grey hoodie mannequin from before, hand still stained and still lit up by an orange spotlight. The boy is talking to the mannequin again, gesturing towards it, but now he’s wearing a grey hoodie which is hanging off one of his shoulders. His hand is stained by a splatter of black liquid.

It just feels like there’s no helping my…

The shot zooms in on the stained hand.

We get a close up of Levi’s mouth, red lighting still noticeable. He snarls.

[Chorus again]

Patchwork heart beating along! (I) Can’t collapse, now keep it warm! (II) Even if it’s freezing, (III) come on fix it, make the passion thaw! (IV)

(I) We see the heart beating to the beat again, once more with blue lighting, and now it looks like this:

(II) We switch to Levi sitting, looking slightly up as if staring at the heart, expression serious.

(III) We get a different shot of Levi, now hunched over while sitting on a chair. His expression is still serious. Something out of focus is covering the foreground, and Levi turns to look at it.

(IV) The camera flips to the thing he was staring at. It’s the purple sleeveless jacket he wears in canon, as well as his canon set of purple gloves and his pink tie. Pop-ups!

Purple Jacket

My favorite. Reminds me of work.

Pink Tie

Stylish yet professional. Reminds me of work.

Magenta Gloves

Comfortable. Cover a lot. Remind me of work.

A patchwork heart beating along! (I) Can’t collapse, now keep it warm! (II) Even if it’s freezing, (III) I’ll just fix it, make the passion thaw! (IV)

(I) We switch to the purple boots he wears in canon. Levi’s out of focus in the background.

Purple Boots

Comfortable. Remind me of work.

(II) We get another shot of Levi looking at the clothes, with a contemplative expression. The heart can be seen beating in the background.

(III) Close-up of Levi sighing.

(IV) Another shot of the jacket and gloves, except now Levi grabs them.

[Unlike last time, the music doesn’t linger, but rather switches to a bridge. The music is still pretty energetic, but less powerful than in the chorus]

Perhaps it would be better… (I) To give up and let it be, (II) Worse to burn rather than freeze (III)

(I) Levi contemplates the clothes he grabbed.

(II) We cut to him putting an arm through the purple jacket.

(III) The jacket is now hanging off one of his shoulders, as he’s putting the other hand through the hole where the sleeve would be. Before he fully puts it on, he looks to the side.

But still, I would regret it… (I) Abandoning them all, (II) Let the core of my soul rot (III)

(I) We see the grey hoodie mannequin again. Still lit up by the orange spotlight, still with black liquid on its hands. Skull Shirt boy is also there, again lit up red, again talking, again with a grey hoodie hanging off his shoulder, again with stains on his hands.

This time, though, the other three boys from the table scene are also there. They’re all lit up by red spotlights, and they all also have grey hoodies hanging off one shoulder. Heartbreaker Shirt and Party Shirt have similar talkative expressions, while Theater Shirt is hunched over with a placid smile on his face.

(II) The screen splits in three zoomed in shots of the new boys’ hands. They’re all stained with black liquid.

(III) Back to a shot of Levi’s face with blue lighting, he seems to be staring at the other boys with a concerned expression. In the background, a clothes hanger with a grey hoodie comes into focus.

So, instead…

We get a close-up of Levi’s chest, and we see his mouth as he sighs. The jacket falls off his shoulder.

[Pre-chorus music again]

I have to make things right

Close-up of the clothes hanger with the grey hoodie, and Levi grabs it roughly. As the music-only part plays, we get a shot of his back at an angle as he looks at the hoodie, his jacket fully off.

Protect them all, just one last time

We see Levi putting on the hoodie. First one arm, then the other. He puts on brass knuckles. Pop-ups:

Grey Hoodie

…

Brass Knuckles

…

We focus on his head as he throws the hoodie over it. The lighting fades into orange.

Doesn’t matter there’s no going back

The shot focuses back on the mannequin with the hoodie, orange spotlight still there. The camera is shaking. The shot goes back to Levi, who is walking at first, but then starts running.

After all, there is no saving my…

There’s quick flashing between Levi running with orange lighting and the grey hoodie, with a background that slowly turns white; then the thumbnail image; back to the grey hoodie; then a shot of Levi’s back as he stares at the heart with blue lighting. The Levi that stares at the heart is wearing his canon outfit (purple jacket - gloves - boots).

[The music goes silent, a preparation for a beat drop]

The video slows down as we focus on the grey hoodie mannequin. The camera “blinks” and the mannequin turns into a human; a scraggly man with an uneven beard and short black hair, wearing the same grey hoodie. He's facing away, but turns around as the camera closes in. The environment changes; the colored lighting disappears, and we are now in an alleyway.

A shot of Levi from the man’s back, as Levi braces for a right hook.

Patchwork heart (I) beating along! (II) Just once more, weather the storm! (III) Even if it’s freezing, I can’t fix it, it will never thaw! (IV)

(I) A close-up of the man’s stomach, as Levi’s punch connects with his gut.

(II) Right as the punch connects, the scene switches to one of the heart’s stitches, between the Party Shirt and the Theater Shirt. Levi’s hand is now grabbing those stitches, and he pulls on them. The camera follows his hand as he rips them from the heart, blue blood splattering all over.

(III) Back to the alleyway, the man shoves Levi away. He throws a left hook at Levi’s face, but Levi ducks to his left and throws his own left hook at the man’s stomach.

(IV) The scene again switches to the heart, with Levi grabbing the stitches between the Skull Shirt section and the Heartbreaker section with his left hand. The shot quickly switches to Levi’s face, which is splattered with blue blood. He frowns. Back to the heart, and Levi’s fist clenches.

Ripping, bleeding out a song! (I) Break it now, (II) then have it sown! (III) Patchwork heart beating alone! (IV) I will keep on living, (V) even living with my stitches torn! (VI)

(I) Again, Levi rips out the stitches, causing blue blood to splatter.

(II) Back to the alley, we get a close-up of the man falling to one knee from pain. Levi raises his right fist…

(III) Back to the blue lighting, black background and heart. Levi’s holding up loose threads with blue blood on his raised right hand.

(IV) Back to the alleyway, we get a shot from the man’s back as Levi punches him in the head with his brass knuckles, recreating his Undercover killshot. The man spits out (red) blood.

(V) A shot of Levi from behind his ankles, the man’s body lying still in the background, blood under him.

(VI) The shot pans up quickly, switching back to the heart scene as “stitches torn” is sung. We get one good look at the heart, which is now fully blue, but filled with gashes where the stitches used to be.

[The music begins winding down for the ending]

The shot pans backwards to let us see Levi’s back, the heart beating more slowly and not with the beat anymore. He’s wearing his full canon outfit. There’s a glitch effect as the heart disappears, and the lighting changes to orange, but Levi’s outfit doesn’t change. The room is completely empty, but there’s (red) blood splatters on the floor.

My stitches torn!

The lighting changes to red, and while Levi’s clothes don’t change, the room is now completely barren. A few moments after, the lighting changes to purple, the same desks from the beginning surrounding Levi who, you guessed, hasn’t changed clothes.

The shot zooms in on Levi’s back, as he sighs.

[The music fades out, save for one last lyric]

Patchwork heart beating along!

He turns around, the screen glitches again as he does. The lighting is now white, and the background has changed to the wall with the height marks of one of the Undercover cells. Levi’s clothes change to the Milgram uniform, and he holds up his Undercover prisoner card. A final pop-up appears on the uniform.

Strange Clothes

The outfit of a murderer

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MonoTV: I see you’ve made it to the end of the post!

Es: Huh?

M: Now, it’s time to hand out the verdict! Make sure to think carefully, you only have one vote, and one week to decide how you’re gonna vote!

E: Wait, who are you talking to?

M: Will you make the right choice? Or the wrong one?

E: Uh…

M: Trick question! There is no right choice! It’s just a choice!

E: Hello? Is there anyone there?

M: With that, it’s…

VOTING TIME!!!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #milgram #drdt milgram crossover au #levi fontana

30 notes · View notes

madnessofthespirits · 8 months ago

Note

2, 9 and 17 about Diar and Alter for the character ask game 👀👀👀

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

cu alter: ummmm i'd die for anything. for example:

he's not lancer but he is very much cu chulainn

in EPU (and to a certain extent post-EPU too) he's basically just a guy trying to give himself agency in a situation where he's been robbed of his agency. this makes him act really weird

nothing about him has anything to do with warp spasm cu, even on a meta level

he's got that dissociative ptsd

whenever he's kind or caring i find it moving because he's quite literally been altered to suppress those parts of himself, which goes to show that they're actually too strong to be suppressed completely at all, and that he's fighting extra hard to be that way

(i may be interpreting this question as an opportunity to just share random opinions but hopefully that's okay)

diarmuid: the worst things that ever happened to him were ultimately the fault of awful old men with too much power and if fate would actually notice that and try to do something with what that might mean about him i think that would be a much more interesting thing to explore in regard to his character in fgo (or any other post-f/z media he could potentially be in) than well, most of the other things they've done with him post-f/z instead

also *straight guy voice* he's way stronger than either canon or fans usually treat him as being. urobuchi (or someone else on the f/z staff, i forget who) said he might have won the grail war if it weren't for kayneth being a fuckwad. all of the stuff he's done in his legends is at least as impressive as anything cu has ever done.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

cu alter: honestly i think it was during the scene where he fights nero and she's trying to understand his motives and nothing he's saying really makes much sense and she points out that he's not even enjoying what he's doing, which he implicitly agrees with, and then tells her that his only goal is to just keep fighting until he's dead. i remember thinking to myself stuff along the lines of "wow bro that sounds Bad what's your problem" and "oh he's like Fucked Up fucked up i can't not care about him" and really it just made me want to understand him so bad

and then there's the finale scene where he finally admits that he's being forced to do what he's doing because medb used the grail to place him under a geis and it's like sad as fuck because he's been forced to sacrifice the parts of himself that feel joy and love just so he can maintain his honor, and therefore it's also heroic at the same time (this is what i'm talking about when i say that though he may not be lancer he is very much cu chulainn). also the part where's he kind to medb while she's dying in spite of having little reason to be and actually holding clear dislike for her is very touching

diarmuid: i definitely liked him from the start - like he so clearly just wants to do the right thing and have fun at the same time in spite of the fact that he has this horrific past and got saddled with this shitty master - like how could i not care about him? but it's definitely the last couple of scenes he appears in that sealed the deal for me. just seeing him walk away from that shitty encounter with kayneth and turn around and decide he's not gonna let that stop him from enjoying an epic fight with his best friend - and then he experiences one of the most awful fictional deaths i can think of and we learn that this whole time while he's been smiling and taking the high road at every turn he's actually been building up this whole volcano of grief and resentment. the whole thing is just as brief as it is powerful. it's a moment of honesty, it's touching, it's relatable, it's the closest thing to justice he's allowed. it contrasts so starkly with the side of him the audience sees up until then that it comes off as genuinely shocking, and it shows that he is just as glaringly human as he is a perfect knight, and therefore what makes him such an interesting and lovable character. can't imagine how hard your heart has to be to see all that and not care for him at least a little

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

cu alter: i think you will either get it or not, but out of all the songs i associate with him, of which there are many, i think of this one as being the most "his" of them all

diarmuid: i know i've already brought this one up before but:

"when i choose to see the good side of things, i'm not being naive. it is strategic and necessary. it's how i've learned to survive through everything." -- waymond wang in everything everywhere all at once (excellent film btw if you haven't seen it)

also:

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madqueenalanna · 11 months ago

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got reminded of the gone girl "cool girl" monologue and i decided to look it up cause i wanted to read it again and instead i stumbled across a reddit thread about how that monologue doesn't make sense and is misogynistic???

look. amy is misogynist. she's cersei, she thinks she's the exception, the only Good woman (not Good in the way men think of it, just Good as in Worthy). amy is vindictive, cruel, and prone to black-and-white thinking. but the thing that makes her so compelling, to me, is that while her actions are deranged, her motivations make sense?? she left her entire life behind to follow her unemployed husband to nowheresville missouri where he drains her savings to open a bar and starts cheating on her w a 23 yr old. yes i would probably be quite mad about that too!

and women in the thread saying "this monologue sucks cause i'm 40 and i don't care what men think about me" then it's not for you?? amy is 1000% correct that there is no small contingent of men (emotionally immature, sure, but can be any age) who want the most low-maintenance high-reward girlfriend imaginable, and will compare any real woman unfavorably to that ideal. and immature women (usually young, but not always) twist and distort themselves to match that ideal. i did it myself, for years, even if at 29 i'd rather die than try so hard to impress any man

like, i think the Cool Girl monologue is actually the least objectionable thing amy ever said/did. and i don't even blame her for framing nick or killing desi, cause i'm a feminist and i support women's wrongs. but for real like this IS a thing that happens, and it's not uncommon, and it's exhausting. and people usually leave out the part where she says she was waiting for the reverse, for men to start talking about their feelings and reading pride & prejudice and making out at parties to appeal to women, but they never did so. it's a double standard. she's RIGHT!!! even if it doesn't apply to YOU, the reader, it seems unfathomable to me that you could have never seen this dynamic play out among other people. go outside

something i've noticed from people talking about amy or camille from "sharp objects" or libby from "dark places" (me pretending anyone ever talks about "dark places") is the like, puritan rejection of their ugly sides. i love when women can be complicated! they can be damaged, hurt, wronged, angry, violent, abusive, despondent, manipulative. their "badness" is a huge reason WHY the stories are impactful. "sharp objects" without camille's addictions is nothing. like let's be so for real here. things being disquieting, uncomfortable, taboo, icky, or violent doesn't make it bad writing. grow up

#Gone Girl #One of my fave books of all time I will NOT tolerate the slander of the illiterate

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 11 months ago

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"Should I order us a bottle of wine?"

I'm sitting across a small table from Evan. He is soft-spoken and raises his eyebrows as he asks me. The waiter is standing patiently at our side, looking to me for the final decision. The waiter is dressed in a tux, a cloth napkin hanging over his arm. I told Evan it wasn't necessary to take me somewhere this fancy. I'm not fancy by any means. In fact, usually I would roll my eyes at the thought of it. Me,? At a fancy restaurant? Yea, fucking right. I'm classy but I'm not fancy. I apparently can't get the word fancy out of my head. The waiter clears his throat and it pulls me out of my daydream. Patience waining.

"Sure, but white wine please. The sulfites in red make me sick."

Evan knits his eyebrows and starts to say something when the waiter interjects.

"Ma'am, our red wines are authentic to Italian recipes and do not contain sulfites. Of course they are more expensive than other types, that we do serve, that you may want to stay away from."

"Oh, that's cool-I mean, ..lovely.." the waiter looks at me strangely and I shake my head. I hear Evan snort. I make a mental note to give him shit for it.

My eyes snap to his and I playfully glare at him. He chuckles and orders us some red wine that is friendly to my stomach. The waiter takes our food order as well and walks away, leaving us to resume our conversation. This is our first date. I know him a bit, but not well. The air between us actually is quite comfortable.

"Dude, I told you that you didn't have to bring me somewhere fancy. If you're looking to impress me, that ship has sailed" I smirk.

"Ouch, that stings" he jokes

I roll my eyes "I mean if I accepted a date with you, that means you've already impressed me" I smile at him. He smiles back and nods his head.

"Really, I just wanted to get in your pants..." He can't keep a straight face as he says it.

"Oh, yea? Well my muffin shop isn't open for first dates, mister can't keep it in your pants" I chuckle cause I know he's at least half joking. I mean he's a guy, but at the same time he would never want me to be uncomfortable. He knows I can take the joke. We've joked about far worse already. We share the same sense of humor, which is what I think we are both attracted to. He laughs out loud at my response.

"Muffin shop? That's fucking funny"

"Thanks, I'm here all week" and I pretend to take a bow.

"When does your shop open, exactly?" He says with a sultry look.

"Wouldn't you like to know" I respond, batting my eyelashes at him.

"I get the feeling you like to tease"

"I guess that's something else you're going to have to find out about" I give him a sexy look.

Our wine makes its way to the table. We cheer each other and take a sip. "Mmm, that's good" I say

"I really don't mean to be an ass about it. I would never pressure you. I just have to say that so you know" it takes me a minute to realize what he's talking about.

"No, I don't think you're being an ass at all. I trust you. And, ya know, I can take a joke." We are suddenly serious and staring into each other's eyes.

"Sometimes I think that people think I'm weird. I'm kinda socially awkward. The last thing I want to do is offend. But, you seem so cool and not easily affected by things. It's nice. I feel like I can be myself and I'm not being judged" his eyes go soft.

"Well, I am not judging you at all. I happen to think you are an amazing person. Not weird at all. Kind, thoughtful, sweet, funny. Those are better words to describe you. And I know you're just joking around. So, no worries, ok?" I cock my head to the side and smile reassuringly at him.

"You're food ma'am" I move my arms out of the way as our waiter is placing my plate on the table in front of me. It smells delicious and looks even more so.

We dig into our food. It's so good, neither of us talk while we eat. Finally, fat and happy, we lean back in our chairs.

"Was your food good?" I ask

"Amazing, yours"

"It was delicious"

The bill is silently left in the middle of the table

I joke "One, two, three fast hands!"

Evan laughs "Ha! You better leave that alone" wagging a finger at me.

"Are you sure?" I ask him softly. Sincerely.

"Yea, completely" he smiles

"Thank you so much for all of this. I have had a great time." I reach my hand across the table and Evan instinctually puts his hand out to mine. We stay like that for a long minute. I squeeze his hand gently as he looks into my eyes.

"It's been completely my pleasure" he answers. "Ready to go?"

I nod my head and sigh. Is it really over? At least the car ride is fairly long. That's something. We get our coats from the coat room, say good night and Evan helps me into mine. I thank him. He opens the door for me and we walk outside. It's a chilly LA night. To us at least. For the second time tonight he opens my car door for me. What a gentleman. My heart skips a beat as I realize I don't know many men like him. I decide to tell him so.

"Evan, can I be honest with you?" He looks a bit apprehensive, as if he thinks the let down is coming. He nods his head yes anyway, ready to take it like a man. "I've never had a man open a car door for me before. You're a bit of a rarity as far as men go these days. Don't ever lose that. It's so amazing" I lean over and kiss his cheek. I pull back and smile at the look on his face. "What's that look for?"

"I honestly thought you were gonna say, 'it's been nice but I'm not feeling it' ,or something" he looks away and blows air out slowly. He starts the car. I just give him a reassuring smile.

He starts driving towards my house. He asks what music I would like to listen to and I tell him it doesn't matter. He searches and finds a rock/alt station. Perfect. We stay pretty quiet. I make comments about the landmarks we pass and we talk about some places we would like to check out. Restaurants and shops. We make rhetorical plans to go to these places together. Finally, he pulls into my driveway. We aren't awkward with each other, but right now our hearts are racing. Our minds are racing. Do we kiss? Shake hands? Hug? Evan clears his throat and it hits me how incredibly handsome and adorable he is.

A sly smile "So uh, does your muffin shop serve any mini eclairs or petit fores, by chance?"

"What?" I chuckle and a snort escapes. We both laugh at that.

His eyes go soft again. Serious now. "Can I kiss you?"

"Oh..." I smile and nod my head, giving permission

He smiles and his dimples knock the wind out of me. He leans towards me. Keeping his eyes on mine. When we get close enough, his eyes flit to my lips and my stomach knots in a sweet coil. I close my eyes and wait for the feeling of his lips on mine. When I feel his mouth wrap itself on my top lip, I follow suit. He suckles a little and then repeats the same on my bottom lip.

He pulls away only slightly. All either of us can hear is our combined unsteady breathing. Our eyes remain closed. I lean my head towards him a bit and he meets my forehead with his. He brushes his nose against mine a few times and then plunges back in. This time urgently and open. He waits for me to initiate tongue. When I start it, we can't stop. We tease each other. Pulling away from one another. Licking lips. Each time the other is not there to meet our mouths we whimper. The passion we feel is a little bit unexpected. Finally, we have to force ourselves to take a break. Neither of us wanting to. Wanting to stay in our little piece of heaven for a little longer. Our foreheads are touching. I speak, my breath in his face. My question surprises him.

"Would you like to come inside for a bit?" I whisper to him.

His eyes flutter open. "A-are you you sure? You don't have to-"

I interrupt him "It's ok, Evan. Do you want to?"

"More than you know.." he whispers.

"Come with me sweetie"

He shuts off the car and we get out. He lets me lead the way to my door. Once inside, we both have no idea exactly what's about to happen, but we can't wait to find out.

(to be continued)

#fics

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 2 years ago

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Title: Nothing Ever Happens

Author: William T. Vollmann

Rating: 1/5 stars

In the five years since this book was published, I've "tried" to read it twice, although that's probably not the right word -- what I mean is, I picked it up, was bored with the first few chapters, and then put it down, not bothering to force myself to get further in (which I've learned to do with even books I don't get along with). This time, though, the realization dawned on me that I'm not going to get it any better than the first time. The number of pages I've read isn't getting any higher. I've read 132 pages and I'm not going to read any more. Given that a book which holds my interest for the first 100 pages will usually hold it for 300 more, I think this is a pretty safe bet.

This is Vollmann's second book of the year (I've previously read his book on Rwanda, obviously), and his third book in just over a year (all of them are over 500 pages long), and as I'm writing this, he just came out with a brand new novel on the first of the year. It has been fascinating to watch this torrent of Vollmann's work, even if I am utterly unable to make heads or tails of any of it.

Vollmann is an experimentalist, and my general impression is that his experiments tend to work, or not to work, all at once. Nothing ever feels like it works all the way, but nothing ever fails all the way either. I don't say this in the sense that he's "very good at what he does," I say it in the sense that it's really hard to say what he's doing (and what he's up to) with any kind of clarity. "My book tells a story," is one of the sort of "tidy" statement an author might make in an attempt to summarize what their book is about. With Vollmann, it's much more like he's saying, "I'm making a giant mess of text, and you can read it if you want." Whatever you think of that may well depend on how you feel about messes of text, but it seems like a small step to moving from this to the kind of reaction that goes: "well, he's making a mess, so . . . "

So, let's make a mess. The first Vollmann book I tried was The Raking Concern, a fictional history of the rake tailored on the model of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, or at least on that model's three volumes' worth of narrative information. The book opens with what is apparently a playable video game version of this fictional history, about 70 pages, and the novel proper opens with a 40-page scene that parodies standard conceptions of historical writing. Then we settle down into a 400-page retelling of English history that seems like it might be intended to be taken more or less seriously. However, the author seems to have some odd, wildly heterodox opinions about the period in question, and these keep intruding into the fictional material, and in fact the fiction sometimes appears to form a kind of mirror of the way history is being presented, and occasionally the very structure of the text reminds the reader that "this is a fiction," or at least reminds one that reality doesn't quite work the way Vollmann thinks it does -- when, for instance, all the characters sit around and read each other's thoughts, like the story is an Ayn Rand book, and also like the narrative voice is very insistent that Vollmann is not, in fact, writing an Ayn Rand book.

This may all sound like nonsense, but it does sound like it's intended to, and in any case the overall effect is irresistibly fun, a little bit silly but with actual stakes and seriousness of purpose, not quite like anything else (as one of the characters says at one point). There's a lot of Vollmann in there, a lot of characters and motifs and obsessions, and reading this kind of Vollmann feels like reading his Wikipedia article and scrolling down and down and down: you can't help but sense that Vollmann is a strange and amazing mind and his writing a strange and amazing thing, but it's hard to tell what's most important. (I got the sense that many people were startled that Rwanda wasn't all about him personally, and I can see how that'd be a lot of what's interesting about Vollmann, because so much of his work is about him personally, or at least tied to his life and experiences.)

So, now we've got a new Vollmann book. What the hell is this one supposed to be? Well, I think it's intended to be a fictionalized account of the author's own experiences growing up in San Francisco's Mission district, with a bunch of historical material about Venezuela and Nicaragua on the side.

And that's about it. Here is the blurb from the back of my copy:

"'I want to be the first nonfiction writer, the first eternal slave to the truth, to make a work of art out of nonfiction.' San Francisco, 1986. Willie, an eccentric white teenager, breaks up with his first girlfriend to sell crack in a school bathroom. So begins a violent initiation into youthful romantic idealism as it collides with prejudice, murder, violence, and the risk of a lifetime sentence to juvenile prison. After an obsession with prison causes Willie to develop an ability to be invisible, the dream turns to reality as he flees the Mission District and moves north to follow the legacy of his murdered father and an imaginary, mythical character, the human monster Zanella. This haunting and compulsively readable novel is a terrifying look at the future of a middle-class white childhood, a waking dream of forbidden romance, and a peek into the artistic world of William T. Vollmann."

That's it. That's all there is here. That's all I know about this book from reading it. You can do as much with this as you can do with the abstract idea of it, which is the kind of story that might be spun out of something like the abstract idea of Lin Manuel Miranda's Hamilton. But will it live up to the abstract idea in its concrete form? ("Will he ever live up to the 'Hamilton' that lives inside his head? Will he succeed?" No, actually, is the answer to that.) Will Vollmann ever live up to this book?

It's a short sentence. Let's say the entire book is 50 pages long, as it was in the case of the video game and the "first 40 pages" of the book proper. That's a lot of Vollmann for a relatively short time commitment. 10 minutes per page of Vollmann, on average, which is almost an hour. It's at least 10 minutes, because some of that will be "filler" and some of it will have to be skimmed. It's over in a week. A lot of people have a lower standard for "good" and "bad" books than I do. There's some literature that I've read where I wasn't sure what to think and I had to think about it for a while before reaching any conclusions. Maybe this Vollmann will be that for me. It's certainly possible. And, well, we'll see.

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jorenilee · 11 months ago

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i typed this out quickly and in one take because i was offended by your post about frye consistently losing splatfests. in your tags, your reasoning doesn’t make sense and frankly comes off as racist. i don’t agree that her team is typically the “fiery” or “awesome” team unless this was explicitly said somewhere and i missed it. i don’t get that impression. either way, referring to the entirety of japan as if they’re one collective without diversity of thought or individuals IS racist. you should think twice before making assumptions like that japanese people prefer “logic” and “maturity” over something that’s “cool.” also, blaming japanese people for all the bad things about the game + immediately turning to point fingers at japanese people when your team loses the splatfest is also racist. i am a japanese-american whose favorite character is frye and i want her to win as much as you do, but you need to stop putting racist takes out onto the internet as if they’re facts

yeah this is fair. when solo won, my tl was full of people immediately jumping onto accusations about white ink and rigging, + the year of people dragging shiver and saying frye's choices were "bad" and being venomously racist when japanese playerbases do sway votes, so I tried to find an actual pattern that wasn't just "japan rigging" and made baseless assumptions myself.

I do definitely think now I should've rephrased, especially making sure it wasn't flat statements, saying ALL japanese players thought that, or sound like I'm pointing fingers or was upset. Also really sorry I came across as blaming Japan. I thought the difference between the west/japan's popular votes (going off popularity polls and reported mirror matches) were interesting and it was my fault for assuming the reasons behind them. To emphasize so no one gets the wrong idea from my tags, japanese playerbases contribute hugely to splatfest results just for the simple reason of larger player numbers but it's stupid to label them as "responsible for bad things" or splatfest losts because they are just playing the damn game. No ones being malicious or whatever (+ nessie/aliens and the chocolate fest seem to be very evenly balanced global vote-wise).

Just for clarification (you definitely didn't miss anything), Frye's choices being on the more silly end was just another assumption I did. It's usually kids - who are famously not very skilled - that are into fire types, being with family, doing fist bumps (which was a western fest) or her teams are a bit more geared towards the west (to my knowledge, skeletons don't have quite the cultural significance ghosts do in japan but imo, ghosts are just way more famous Everywhere).

or had the VERY SUBJECTIVE "less mature" choices (strawberry vs vanilla, sweet vs spicy or sour, again fist bump vs handshake or hug, milk vs dark or white, (people said japanese players thought the white ink was cute so it was more popular which ??? that didn't sound true nor important enough to sway the results like that), grub vs gear (gear was literally the logical right choice btw) and fame was just. unfortunate all around)

and I just thought Shiver's personality is more "cold" and "logical" or very very mildly "edgy" (ie team power or money) > her team choices usually are > adults pick them more > win more, but it was my bad for naming japan as a whole instead.

That's also my bad for being too lazy to expand on it in the tags. Thanks for bringing this up 👍 I'll remove the tags so people don't get the same assumptions

#long #ask #words #wanted to address since there is very real xenophobia in the splatoon community that i have seen #and i dont want to be regurgitating any rhetoric like it #glad you shared anon 👍#i also typed those quickly in a much less thought out and correct manner i def shouldve realized huh. maybe this is wrong #and i beg. it is fictional characters pls guys do not take splatfest losses as damning tragic events

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penny00dreadful · 2 years ago

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How about 18 & 76 please!

(Thank you lovely!)

Link to the Fanfic Writing Ask list

Hey babes! Thanks for the ask!

Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research?

I love researching for fics. I love looking up as much interesting shit as I can. The downside to that is that I often will end up down a rabbit hole of completely unrelated shit. 😅

As for which fic has required the most research, I really can't be sure. My First Impressions Pride and Prejudice fic involved an audiobook re-listen before I decided to go off of the 2005 movie because that was a bit easier to deal with.

Similar with the recent Anastasia AU I wrote, I watched the movie multiple times as I wrote it and went into a deep dive on The Winter Palace and tobacco production in pre-revolution Russia for the smell from Wayne that triggers a memory for Eddie. Ekaterina Nikolaevna Shaposhnikova took over her husbands tobacco factory when he died and became known as the 'Queen of Tobacco' in Russia for a little bit so it made sense to me that Wayne would smoke that.

Even then it would be smaller bits of research for different fics. What movies/tv shows would be out at the time, what technology was available, what albums/songs were available, the laws around sodomy or the legal drinking age or same sex marriage as well as constantly quizzing my husband about what a particular injury/attack/sickness would do to a body to try and make it as real as possible.

I don't expect to get everything 100% accurate 100% of the time but I try my best and that's all that I can do in the end. 😊

How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

So when it comes to external pressure I'm happy to say I haven't recieved an awful lot of it. As is usual in fandoms most people are very sweet and just as passionate about the things they love as the rest of us. So when they come to me begging for a part 2 or and extension to a fic that I consider done I don't really see it as pressure, I take it more as a compliment because I've been there. I know what it's like to have a piece of writing infect my brain to the point I want another 30k+ words and would drink it up and to me that's a high compliment.

I'll never say never when someone asks me if something else will be written but I cannot force myself to write something I have no inspiration to write. So if the inspiration hits again for a story I've considered complete, I'll extend it. But if the story stays complete in my head, I won't force myself because it'll turn out shit and make me not want to do it and no one wants that.

But when it comes to internal pressure?

Pressure from inside my own head?

Well that's a little more difficult.

I come from a quite crative family. My sister has a degree in Fine Art and is a baker by trade. My brother is a sound engineer and a drummer in a metal band. My brothers girlfriend is a textile artist.

The one thing they've all told me is to not pay attention to the numbers and I was really good at doing that for a while.

Until I wasn't.

Until I started to feel obsessed about how successful or unsuccessful a fic was getting.

How my numbers were stacking up against other people's and the interaction they were getting that I wasn't and it gradually started to eat away at my passion.

I no longer felt accomplished whenever I published anything and kept trying to force myself to write things that would be more popular that I didn't necessarily want to read myself or want to write.

I don't do that anymore. I haven't actually published anything from that era of my life and I won't. It's not what I want to do.

I've had to pull myself out of my head and stop obsessively tracking my numbers and start writing for me again like I did at the start.

I love writing.

I love it.

So dealing with internal pressure has become a regular thing of getting myself to stop and breathe and really look at what I've written down.

Is this actually something I'd want to read or is it something I think other people want to read?

Nowadays that answer is almost always the former. I do passion projects and am trying my hardest not to care if people don't love it as much as I do.

But that's okay, it's a journey and at the end of the day this is not my job, it's a hobby and I'm allowed to be self indulgent and write what I want to.

A little bit long winded and I got into my feelings a tad, sorry about that! 😅

I hope I answered your questions well enough! 🖤

#personal #fanfic questions #penny ask

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lemonspurple · 2 days ago

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Stuff That I've Read Around 2024

Reading has always been a means to an end for me, as in for school or maybe to learn a necessary skill. Totally unexpectedly, this lead to me associating books with labor. Believe it or not, but if you remove any expectations or goals and accept that literature can also be something that purely serves as joyful activity, it makes for a rather neat hobby. In the beginning I fell into the usual pitfalls of trying to get the best book. Whatever the fuck that is. This is where most people quit again, as being the guy who reads Shakespeare at the café and being the guy who actually wants to read Shakespeare are two completely different things, yet often confused. Good books, in my case, make me think things like "I hate that I love this". If you open yourself to genres and topics you might normally not interact with, ratings lose their meaning and what remains is a lust for the unknown. In this spirit I'd like to catalogue what I've read and enjoyed recently.

Exhalation - Ted Chiang

Together with "Story of Your Life & Others" it became one of these moments that leave you a bit empty, once you're done, knowing that it will take a while until you find something that changes your perspective as dramatically. It also became a favorite thing for me to gift, as I think it is very "beginner friendly". What I mean by that is that it hooks people who don't read as much with it's exotic subjects, often leaving them surprised that such things exist. Secondly, both books are a bunch of short stories, that are easier to digest than a trilogy. Some of them are a bit boring, but so is this review. So who am I to judge?

Fukushima Devil Fish - Susumu Katsumata

I can still vividly remember how I said "???" out loud after reading the last pages. As I read the German version, I'm not aware if the order is the same for the English translation, but the first and last story somehow stuck with me. I can't tell you what I like and I also don't know why I would recommend it to anyone. But somehow this work left footsteps in my brain that I revisit every once in a while.

Snuff - Chuck Palahniuk

Someone gifted this to me with the disclaimer that it is a rather controversial book and it really only takes the blurb to understand that. The work bent my expectation multiple times and surprised me in ways I never saw coming and still managed to almost read as if I'm listening to a strange chorus. The book sure isn't a miracle, even better, written in poor taste, depending on who you ask, but if you're willing to see past that, it becomes a rare refresher in the world that is overrun by heroes journeys.

The Box Man - Abe Kōbō

By now the impression grows, that I either enjoy confusing books or authors, which last name gets highlighted by grammar correction. The Box Man was my first encounter with literature that broke linear storytelling and introduced me into the realm of the surreal. Not as in the sense of Murakami, where he blends in some fantastical elements (you can read between the lines that I'm not a big fan), but by warping the entire book. In addition, I also read his work "The Woman in the Dunes", but as with older literature, I perceive it as slow burn, which is my way of avoiding to say chewy at times. But again, it depends on who you ask. Often, especially with new literature, I get the impression that the characters are written in a way that the reader can relate to quickly. Older works, seem to give less of a fuck. Hello, I'm the weirdest sucker you ever knew and for the next 20 pages I'm going to describe the room I'm in.

Uzumaki - Junji Ito

This book is rather popular and often praised in reviews. Honestly speaking, I don't think anyone is reading this post anymore, which means that I'm probably only talking to myself. Hence, there is no one to mind some off topic. I imagine, that everyone has had an intrusive thought or two. If you've ever seen one of these pyramids made out of champagne glasses you know exactly what I mean. In my case, every time I order a kebap that is wrapped into aluminum foil, I have this urge to throw it as far as I can. It's so compact and has a nice density that would make it perfect for that. Would it remain intact or explode when it lands? I haven't done it yet, because I find it difficult to waste food and I also struggle to decide if I were to just throw it or hurl it like a frisbee for the best result. Anyhow, that's why recommend at least one book of Junji Ito.

You can find more books I read on goodreads here.

#reading #bookblr #books and reading

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13eyond13 · 3 months ago

Note

For the movie asks: 8. Sci-fi or westerns? 19. Name a movie that blew your mind.

omg thx for the movie asks

8. Sci-fi or westerns?

SCI-FI

I was having a hard time answering this one at first, mainly because I was like, hmmm I don't know if I've actually watched that many westerns, but the ones I HAVE watched I usually liked quite a bit? And sci-fi isn't really what I'd consider my main go-to favourite genre either, though I know I've enjoyed them on occasion as well. I went to my Letterboxd account to help settle this debate in my mind, and I sorted my watched movies by genre, and then it showed me this:

I have watched 13 movies total categorized as "westerns" (apparently the Gumby movie counts?)

and I have watched 167 movies categorized as "science fiction" (though some of the movies listed here are VERY questionable inclusions for this category, imo)

AT ANY RATE, judging by the sheer number of movies I've actually watched of each type, I'd probably have to say I prefer science fiction? Though I think I mostly only like sci-fi stories if they have strong compelling characters and/or relationships included in them, which is something that sometimes bores me about sci-fi as a genre (that it focuses so heavily on thought experiment/otherworldly type premises that the characters in the story are sometimes just afterthoughts... think Christopher Nolan movies like Tenet, which I thought was an absolute snoozefest).

I'd like to watch a few more westerns as well! I'm too young to have grown up watching most of them myself, but there's just something about the desolate small town settings and the gruff mysterious loner characters prominent in westerns that I'd probably like. I imagine I'd prefer the ones that are a little less straight-up formulaic and that do something a little more deconstructive or elevated with the genre, probably.

19. Name a movie that blew your mind:

I'll tell you a few lil things that blew my mind about what is probably my top fave action movie, Mad Max: Fury Road (2015):

youtube

-it was the first of the Mad Max movies I'd ever seen, yet somehow I was able to pick up just about everything about the characters and the world-building that I needed to know without it ever stopping to have long flashbacks or excessive protagonist narration or the characters walking around and explaining a bunch of stuff to each other. It gives you just enough to make sense of the world and get where the characters are coming from and what they care about without compromising the breakneck pace or ruining some of the more intriguing mysterious questions left about everything and everybody. I am just so impressed every time I watch it by how well it unfolds without containing any clunky or boring long-winded exposition to sit through!

-It's just under 2 hours long, which as far as movies go is not that excessive. Whenever I think about what a weird and unique world it has to introduce you to and get you invested in and still also tell you a story the entire time it kinda blows my mind just how much they managed to fit into under 120 minutes! Other much less ambitious movies are often dragging on to run times of 2½ to 3 hours apiece. I just think it shows it was edited extremely well, and it kinda makes me think that most other movies that go over 2 hours long probably could be improved by having a bit of the excess fat trimmed

-The insane vehicles and war rig machines in this movie are actually real vehicles that they actually built out of junkyard scraps and actually drove around the desert, and all of them have their own elaborate backstories and lore. I'm not even somebody who's normally at all interested in cars, but some of these monstrous hybrid vehicles are just bizarre enough and visually interesting enough to basically also be characters in the movies themselves, and can also tell you a ton about the characters who drive them, too:

-The crazy car chase stunts and crashes and explosions are actually being done for real, too. People are ACTUALLY getting up on poles on the backs of the speeding cars and jumping their bikes over trucks and flinging themselves onto other moving cars and so on... can't even imagine doing that for real (and also lowkey kind of amazing to me that nobody got killed lol)

[MOVIE ASK MEME]

#and unfortunately my excessive love of mad max fury road means that furiosa was a very disappointing follow-up to me #i just felt like it both kinda ruined a lot of the cool mystery from this movie and also didnt really add anything much of value for me #something i love about mad max fury road is that even though its this crazy violent cutthroat cartoonish comic booky dystopian world #the characters are also kinda relatable? even most of the worst of the villains seem to have their lil moments of relatability #and not every single character is trying to hurt somebody #all stuff that Furiosa kinda failed at or ruined a bit for me as a movie BUT ANYWAY i'll try to spare you all that rant #and keep it at a gush about how much i love fury road #ask #anon #movies #p

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darkdevasofdestruction · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 6 - Bodhisattva

Arawashi no Uta /Bunker Army Song

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were some kind of high-functioning sociopath in the least." Mashita gave a teasing chuckle, his arm around Kisara's shoulder as they exit the cinema. "People who aren't deranged in the head don't laugh at grotesque, ritualistic murder scenes." he pointed out.

"Call me what you wish, I enjoyed myself!" she smiled like a precious princess. "You really didn't have to pay though, I feel bad." "That just means you'll have to make it up to me next time." he cheekily commented.

"Ah, I see, so we're going to end up owing each other a date and run around in a vicious circle. I like this courting game." suddenly, her phone starts ringing. "Oh, come on, don't bother me now..." she grumbled, irritated, flipping up the phone lid, only to see it was Yashiki. "Oh. The saving vest is calling - Let's hope I learn how to swim soon."

He picked the phone from her hand. "Let me have a bit of fun." he cleared his throat and made a tragic impression of a girl's voice. "I've been waiting for you call the whole day, Yashiki, what took you so long!" Kisara could barely stifle her giggles, as they sat down on a bench.

"Uh...? Wrong number...?" the poor man was so confused, hearing childish chuckles from the other side of the line. "Wait, hold up - Mashita?! What are you doing with Kisara's phone?" "On first name basis with my girlfriend? Now, now, that won't do, Yashiki." an uncomfortable silence took over.

"Uh... Sorry? I think? Wait - Since when are you --" the poor man stumbled over his words like a fish on land.

"You've teased the man enough." Kisara laughed, reaching to catch her phone back. "Sorry for that, Yashiki. Satoru's in a playful mood. We watched a murder detective movie." she explained, feeling a coat placed over her bare shoulders. "Did you find any new leads?" "It's alright. Uh... Yes, sort of. Quite a lead, actually, and it ties with what you said about your grandfather. I think this ghost is the one who cursed you. A new curse bearer came by, and he mentioned his grandfather having been a war physician involved with the Engineering Lab... Hiroo's grandfather was the same. We're going to investigate the lab today, from the other entrance." Yashiki explained - Suddenly, Kisara fell into a mute somberness.

"My grandpa wasn't working for the Engineering Lab... But when we went down the sewers... Yashiki, I never really felt anything quite like it. I felt a sense of familiarity, like... Like... Like when I go home, only that home is actually hell. There was such a malevolent energy down there... Not like Zukawa, not like Shimi-O... Something in between... But I also felt a strong sense of suffering and agony like never before. I think something incredibly disturbing happened down there." the girl leaned her head back to look at the cloudless sky, filled with stars.

"So it attracts you like a magnet, but it also makes you want to run away with fear?" Yashiki concluded.

"Yes. If my theories are correct, I think down there happened some great cases of human experimenting. I hope I'm wrong - God, I hope I am... But whenever secret things like this one are involved, that's usually what it is. The twisted imaginations of people who want to play God." she shuddered lightly.

"The man who came over is called Daimon, and he's a doctor too. He said there's mention of a strange scar in his grandfather's records as a military physician. The patients with the symptoms were kept in a secret army laboratory, and of course, after the war, all documents were burnt, with the exception of the clinical records he found. It might have something to do with, uh... Gods and Faith too. And something called... Kannon soldier." her back straightened in shock, as though a lightning struck her down.

"Kannon? Like - The Bodhisattva? Guanyin? The Bodhisattva of Compassion and Mercy?" she asked immediately.

"Uh... I'm really not sure, I'm not very familiar with Buddhism, but don't you think this ties perfectly well with the whole Divine Wrath thing, and the stolen statues?" Yashiki pointed out.

"That's the thing, it ties TOO well. I don't believe in Gods and Religions, I don't think this Mark was given by the wrath of Buddha or whatever spiritual theories were shoved down our throats. Ghosts? Yes. Gods? No." she snapped sternly. "But don't take my beliefs too, heart, it would only influence your chain of thoughts. Listen - It's too late to go pay a visit to my grandparents at this hour, but I'm coming over to investigate with you, and tomorrow I'll see what they have to say. I'm sure I can give you some fine insight." she explained, already hopping up to her feet.

"Alright. I'll text you the location. We'll see you there." he hung up.

"Well... Thank you for the date - It was the best I've ever had, really. I'll... Hopefully see you soon, yes? I have to make it up to you." she gave a dry smile.

"Yes, yes, something like that." he offers an aloof smile. "Call me if you need anything. You got to see me afflicted by the ghost, might as well return the favour." the comment made Kisara's tension dissipate, and she chuckled.

"Thank you for your support, Satoru. I'll hold you onto that." with a nod, Kisara got in the car and drove back home - She needed to get a coat for herself, and a few sacred items, both Shinto and Buddhist. Why? She didn't know, but her intuition told her that, although she was a non-believer, it was better to be prepared, in case of anything. She already knew chants and mantras and sutras and prayer - What was a rosary or some ofuda talismans?

It didn't take long before she arrived at the South Alley, and she found Yashiki waiting with another brunet man - He looked sickly, poor man. They had already opened the manhole lid. With only a brief introduction between the two doctors, the trio went down the rusted ladder. Kisara was the second to step onto the concrete, but as soon as she did, she froze up and gasped. Yashiki turned his head in her direction, and searched her glazed over expression.

She was perfectly chanting the Imperial propaganda song from the army, as though she was one of the soldiers from the time. Her voice was soft, and so eerie with the echo resounding and bouncing off the concrete walls.

Daimon cringed hearing it, his whole body stiff and shivering. "Can you please stop? It's giving me the creeps." but she sketched no emotion on her deadpan face, nor did she look like she heard him. Daimon stepped in front of her, looking into her eyes and snapping his fingers - No pupilar reaction, no defensive reflex. "Hey, Yashiki, is she possessed?" Yashiki frowned, looking at her with concern, though he had to admit, her chanting the military march lyrics so ominously, like a broken record, made the faint propaganda song playing in the shelter even more terrifying. "Kisara, wake up." nothing. "Kisara, hey!" "Might I recommend a more... Direct approach?" Daimon rose his eyebrow at his partner. "Right." Yashiki placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her vigorously. "KISARA, WAKE UP!" The woman squeaked in surprise and drove back. "Don't scare me like that!" she clutched her heart. "I'm sensitive, you know?!" "Sorry. I think you were, uh... Possessed? In a trance? I'm not sure. You were chanting the military song and... You weren't moving or responding at all." the horror gleaming in her eyes turned to realisation. "I wasn't possessed, though at this rate, I might end up that way. If I do that again, wake up me. This place might just become the death of me. It's... Calling to me, as though I know where I'm supposed to go. I... Please keep an eye out on me, in case I try to stay off from the group. If I wander around randomly and wake up, I'm going to get lost and never find my way back. I'm directionally challenged to the core." Daimon let out a soft exhale of amusement. "I see, so you're spiritually sensitive. Very well. We'll take be on the look out." with a grateful thanks, she got in between the two and followed Yashiki's lead.

Down the South path, they found the large iron doors, though they were locked as expected. Only one way to go, then. They ignored the dried up blood, or the clean rectangular spots on the walls, no doubt left by rather recently torn military posters, and reached a cross in their path. They went right first, down a corridor lit dimly by a few red bulbs, only to find themselves at another cross, and in the middle, a large blood splatter, as though a man imploded, only mush and porridge left behind of him. To the left, a dead end, though a draft was coming from said wall. Could it have been a fake wall? Or maybe it was cemented over? To the right, another perfect dead end. Ahead, once again, a dead end, but with another set of iron doors. On the wall, blood was splayed, revealing another spot where a poster once stood - the blackened stains were crumbling down. The doors were unlocked, and they were able to get inside. The air in this room was musty and stale. It looked like a medical facility.

Kisara fell to the ground, clutching her head, as though an impossible migraine was cursing her. She was staring with sheer torment at the operating table. The state of the room suggested the inhumane experiments that took place there - Hatred clogged the air like a poison mist. It was the most dangerous place they've been so far.

"A lot of people were dismembered and eviscerated on this table. The atmosphere is so heavy, it makes me want to cut my throat out of fear." Kisara heaved pitifully. In a corner, Daimon was examining the ancient skeleton on the ground. He came to the conclusion that it got decapitated with either a blunt object or some kind of non-surgical tool, as the cervical vertebra was messily severed. "Do you think this corpse was also an experiment?" the doctor asked. Kisara shook her head. "No. It's more like... Like a worker who got killed by one of the victims. There's a lot of hatred, dread and vengeance... A lot of vengeance..." she explained softly. Yashiki found a document about cryptograms - it looked like wabun code, similar to morse.

Kannon: Weapon's Code Name ...- ..-- Heavenly Buddha: Project's Code Name .-.-- .--. Soul: Human heads used as materials -. -..-

In another cabinet, a gun and a worn out notebook was found. Despite the faded ink, they were able to decipher some of the writing. '70th... next experiment Ashura statue conne... male body and female head... Then... ernatural phenomenon, spirit... frequent... hard... continue experiments... '

Kisara shuddered, gritting her teeth. Yashiki turned to her, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Kisara... I know it's a lot to ask, but... Could you try and touch the table and see if you can see anything? It helped a lot last time to understand Hanayome's case without much evidence at hand." She looked horrified, her gaze turning from the man and to the table, and back again. Her hands found their way in her beautiful crimson locks of hair... Crimson, like the blood spilled by all the victims in this place. "I-I... Can try..." she never heard her voice so broken and terrified before, it almost made her feel humiliated by her own fear. She was a samurai, a warrior - That's what her grandpa raised... She can't get brought down by some visions. "Give me your coat. I don't want to dirty my clothes." as Yashiki handed her the coat, she placed it like a blanket over the table. She hopped on the edge of the table and unconsciously took out the beaded buddhist rosary from her pocket. "I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Providence. I don't believe in Divine Wrath. This is just the work of ghosts and monsters disguised as people." she reminded herself briefly, her fist clenched tight around the beads. She laid on the operating table as though she was one of the subjects. "Uh... If I do catch something... Don't let me fall off the table, please. I have delicate skin, I bruise easily." she gave a shaky chuckle as she closed her eyes, her hands touching the cold metal of the table and feeling around for the caked blood left unwashed.

Daimon stared intrigued at the woman - A doctor and a spiritualist, how fascinating. Usually one would exclude the other, though not in her case. Still, from what Yashiki mentioned on the way there, Miss Hasashi had the double-edged sword gift of seeing the last moments of one's life, by touching remains or objects with strong spiritual meaning. He was curious to see how it would affect her - Still, he was there to aid if she had some kind of panic attack.

Kisara's eyes fluttered open softly - Her mind felt foggy, and she was in a complete daze, as though she was drugged at a bar. The strong light from the lightbulb dangling above her head made her squint uncomfortably. She got up --... Or tried to. Her body was trying to move, was it was being restrained. Tilting her head left and right, she noticed the leather belts. Anxiety started bubbling up in her heart, and panic was rapidly surging through her veins. "Bāng wǒ! Qǐng bāng wǒ! Yǒurén! Rènhé rén! Qǐng bāng wǒ!" the vibrato of her beautiful soft voice wailed pitifully through the ominously white room. She kept calling for help, over and over again - And then it dawned on her. Was she speaking in Chinese? Who was she? My name is Hasashi Kisara, I'm Japanese, I have no faith, I'm a Veterinarian Doctor in the H City hospital, I'm 25 years old and I'm dating detective Mashita Satoru. Yes, that sounded right. That sounded like her... So... Why was she speaking Chinese? Was the victim Chinese? She never mixed her own identity with the victim's, so why now? The door suddenly slammed open, and two pairs of rushed foot steps surrounded the table she was in. They were speaking a foreign language rapidly. No, wait - It was her language, damn it! It was Japanese - SHE was Japanese! She wasn't the victim, she was Hasashi Kisara! "Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Muni Muni Mahamuni Shakyamuniye Svaha Om. Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Muni Muni Mahamuni Shakyamuniye Svaha Om. Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Muni Muni Mahamuni Shakyamuniye Svaha Om." she found herself horrified, chanting Buddhist mantras over and over again. She couldn't understand the young men dressed in scary, black military uniforms and one of them with a pristine clean white coat, nor could she read their stone cold faces. She kept chanting and chanting, painfully looking up at the white light above her head. No - She could understand them, damn it! Why can't her brain get out of this haziness? Why is she so confused? She picked up on the two men speaking about Buddha and Bodhisattva, experimenting, some kind of scar... Hundreds of failed human experiments... The Great Ashura, the perfection human connection between a man and a woman... But one of the voices was so familiar... Why was it familiar? It wouldn't make sense to be familiar.

Suddenly, she feels a hand over her own, and something is roughly dragged down her finger. Something sparkles in the bright light - It looked like an engagement ring of sorts. No, she wasn't old enough to be engaged - A promise ring, maybe? She felt very territorial, looking at the ring being carelessly tossed into a transparent box... Overbrimming with such rings. Cold sweat fell down her forehead.

"Don't ruin her head, we need it. Do what you want with the rest." the one without the coat told the other. "This better work, Hasashi. Emperor Hirohito and Prime Minister Tojo will have both our heads if we can't create the Kannon Soldier. It's our Empire's last hope to win the war." ... Hasashi, he said? Hasashi? Isn't that HER surname? It can't be... No... No it can't be it... "Hakkō Ichiu. For the Glory of the Empire of the Rising Sun, the Emperor and Unit 731." Kisara's blood froze completely - Unit 731... A taboo blemish on their country's history... No, not a blemish, it was an outright plague, like most of the things Japan did during the war. The atrocities they committed were unforgiveable. From the sexual enslavement of Korean girls, all forgotten thanks to Prime Minister Tojo, to his involvement in the hellish sin that even Satan himself trembles at, the massacre and rape of the Chinese in Nanjing. Nanjing. Nanjing. She was from Nanjing. She, and all the people who had the misfortune of being kept alive during that inhumane torture from her homeland... They were brought back to Japan to become experiments for the maniacs who lost their license to madness, only to serve as the most revered surgeons playing around carelessly with their bodies and organs. She was barely 13 years old... Or did she turn 14 already? She had a crush on a boy and he gave her a promise ring, before going to war, and dying while at it. Her father was dead on duty... And with only her, her mother and grandma... They both were killed, while she... She was subjected to all kinds of torture from these wicked sinners. The great Buddha has a wealth of patience, but even he would never forget these heretics who use His sacred name in vain, creating chimeras and abominations in the name of their fake religion.

Kisara looked up, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes met an empty green void - The surgeon's green eyes were devoid of any life or feeling. He was merciless, unlike the Kannon Bodhisattva they were trying to re-create by dismembering people and putting odd parts together, as though they are dolls - The audacity of them! But those green eyes were so familiar... Yes... Those were her own eyes. Green eyes staring into green eyes... Though she suspected he could only see the victim's black ones. "Grandpa, why?! Why?! You have always been so kind, so good, so understanding - Everyone adores you! How... How could you?! This doesn't make sense! Please - Please get me out of here! It's me - It's your cute Kisa! Your little spider lily! Please, papa, save me! Please spare me! Papa, please, it's me, can't you see me?!" she kept crying and pleading, seeing the glint of the scalped shiny sadistically in the white light of the bulb. "No -- No, please, no, you can't -- You can't do this! Haven't you done enough?! Haven't you tortured me enough?! Come on, get me out of here, please, I'm terrified! Papa!" like a crying child, she pleaded and wailed, and then her cold, naked body felt agonising heat, and blood washed over her skin like a blanket.

She could feel his hands rummaging through her cavity as though he was searching something in a bag - She then felt a gentle touch on her cheek - His bloody hand caught one of her tears. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you stay awake the whole time. You will reach Nirvana only when I allow you to. The Buddha you were praying to won't save you - Only I can spare you of this pain."

She couldn't believe her ears - This psychopath - Was this deranged man her grandfather?! Moreover, she wanted to get back to the real world, to Yashiki and Daimon, and continue the investigation, to get rid of the curse mark, and return home to peace and quiet and no more talk of the war and the secret sins done in this shelter. But how can she go back? Every time she had visions, they were brief, sometimes flashes, but the soul didn't want her to see too much. This time, it was different - She was trapped in this tormenting hell for as long as the victim wanted her to be. No matter how she struggle, how she pleaded, how she cried, nothing worked. Searing agony surging through her whole body and out of ideas, she turned to praying. There was a single Shinto chant of protection that she could remember. "Spirits of the Sky and the Land, take the badnesses, disasters and sins and purify all. Miroku Oomikami -You bless us and proteject us. Meishu Sama - You bless us and protect us. For expansion of our soul - And the fullfilment of your will." she kept repeating the words again and again, but nothing happened. Why did nothing happen? Of course nothing would happen, religion is just a way to trick your mind into believing there is reason for selfless altruism. Something clicked then. The victim was Buddhist.

She kept repeating mantras. Kisara begged for this idea to work, otherwise, she might just have to endure this torment until she truly dies in this memory. She started reciting fragments of the Heart Sutra, the Sutra that stood as the core of all other Sutras. "OM GATE GATE PARAGATE PARASAMGATE BODHI SVAHA." her words flowed continuously, despite choking on tears and pathetically stumbling over broken words and painful gasps and moans. She couldn't even remember what these words meant, but it didn't matter anymore. How many times was she supposed to speak the mantra? 108 times, was it? She couldn't keep count, it was hard enough saying words, let alone rationalise and actually discern what she was doing. She couldn't feel her limbs anymore - They were detached from her body, and cascades of her crimson blood that looked so much like her hair kept going down like a stream over the table.

"KISARA, WAKE UP ALREADY!" a foreign voice called out a name - Whose name was it? And why was she feeling hands over her body, gripping on her flesh.

"LET GO OF ME!" her pitched shriek rung deafeningly through the operating room. Yashiki and Daimon jumped backwards, petrified. Kisara was able to get into a sitting position, her arms clutching her knees to her chest, her face hidden in the gap. Her body was shaking with loud sobs. At least she was finally out of her trance. Yashiki was truly terrified - No matter what he did, she wouldn't awaken, though she kept screaming and yelling, alternating between Japanese and a different language that Daimon mentioned was definitely Chinese - She would chant mantras, or plead to her grandfather - Why him? Was he one of the surgeons implicated in this awful ordeal?

"Miss Kisara, I know you're having a terrible case of a panic attack, but I want you to try to pull yourself together. You're safe, back in the real world. Can you hear my voice?" Yashiki felt plastered with surprise, hearing the cold and pragmatic doctor speak to carefully. He, like Mashita, didn't seem the tender type - Maybe he was very wrong. Kisara nodded her head hesitantly. "Do you know who I am?" she waited a few seconds, before nodding again. "That's good. Do you know who you are?" shockingly, she shook her head. Daimon frowned - Usually, people were aware of who they were, but not other things around their environment. Could this memory have cause a delirious state of confusion? "You are a doctor, just like me. Remember that?" she nodded. "Your name is Hasashi Kisara. Do you agree?" the trembling stopped abruptly, but her hands were pulling painfully at her hair.

"I'm not." she choked out. "I can't be." she said. "I refuse to be associated with that monster who calls himself a God." she took a few deep breaths. She was regaining herself. Her legs relaxed on the table, and her hands fell to her face, wiping away her tears. "I think half of our ghost is a Chinese young girl, barely pubescent, and one of the unfortunate victims left alive and dragged here to be experimented on after the... The Massacre of Nanjing." she explained as Yashiki helped her get off the table and kept supporting her up. "The body of a man, the head of a woman... The Great Ashura... I saw my grandfather there. Surgeon General Hasashi of Unit 731. Imperialistic fuckass. He kept mementos for all his hundreds of victims. I'll raid his house tomorrow and see what I can find. He was working under that monster Tojo." she explained, her body exhausted. "I feel like they were trying to mock Buddhism by creating this monster... The girl was a Buddhist. She kept chanting all kinds of mantras and sutras... I think that will be a way to exorcise her." she spoke, tugging on the man's sleeve to get out of the room. "I'm not touching anything today anymore. I don't think I can take it." "We just got a bunch relevant information thanks to you." Daimon praised in a soft voice - With his illness, he really couldn't speak too sternly, could he?

"We tried waking you up, but..." Yashiki trailed on.

"Oh, you couldn't have succeeded. The girl is so full of hatred, she wanted me to experience absolutely everything she went through, from the time she woke up on the table, to the point her heart stopped." she bitterly snarled. She couldn't blame the spirit, but she wasn't happy with her experience either.

"Forgive me." the man whispered softly, unable to find any strength to speak.

"It's not your fault, Yashiki. If it helps us get rid of this Mark, everything is fair game." but she doubts even Satoru's presence would ease her mind after that mess.

Once they were out of the damned room, Kisara cringed, hearing the faint sound of the military marching song. Yashiki guided her to one of the iron doors. Goosebumps rise - A presence was approaching. There's an incessant beeping, like from a telegraph. They froze in place, unable to move from the electrifying fright. The beeping becomes gradually louder, as though it was trying to convey some kind of message. It was like a sequence... A familiar sequence, like that from the code book they found. "Soul." Yashiki found himself saying. An eerie whisper answered back. 'Point to your soul.' it said. Kisara pointed to his head. The beeping suddenly stops. Daimon cringed from the sheer pressure that the entity put on them and their souls. "Seriously?!" he weakly sighed in relief. "Amazing... A real supernatural event." he let out a sardonic chuckle, though he somehow seemed pleased. When they were sure the road was safe, they got inside the room, revealing another medical facility. Kisara freaked out slightly, saying she won't touch anything. She just awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, her hands in the air as though she was preparing for surgery.

The two men searched restlessly around the room. Daimon crouched next to another old corpse, ribbons of dry, leathery skin still scarcely hanging to the bones like bandages to a mummy. It had a similar cut to the neck like the other one. Somewhere in the cupboard, they found a Research Record and a military short sword. There were a few faded words that stood out in the Record. 'The experiment miraculously succee.... This... divin... protection... The... ura statue...onated from H Shrine... created by... line... statue makers...using...chisel...donated by...same family...severe head... tool...together...becomes the key...Finally our dearest wish...' it seemed as though they could have used sculpting chisels to sever heads. In a cabinet, they found Suzu bells, which Kisara immediately snatched from Yashiki's grasp, and a Record book - 'Disposal Vat Mgmt. Record' 'Dispose... two hundred... super-dimension... suddenly, iron door... half-spiritualised... hypothesize... focused mystical forces...need.... sacred object to erase... Safety valve release code: Diamond'

Suddenly, Yashiki starts freaking out, and as in a trance, started oddly mumbling for a few good minutes. It took both Daimon and Kisara calling out his name to snap him out of whatever possession he was under. He says he's fine, but... He guided them flawlessly through the labyrinthine tunnels of the shelter, to a dead end - He flashed his light on the wall, revealing the outline of a hidden door flickering faintly. "Kisara, you're the expert. These bells... Are they used in any kind of religious ritual?" Kisara rang the bells she snatched previously. "I used Suzu bells in most of the Shinto rites I performed." she explained playfully. "Can you please touch the door - Erh - Wall with the bells?" his request was odd, but judging from the way he stuttered, and Daimon's inability of seeing the door, she figured it might be a way to reveal it properly. Ringing the bells rhythmically with every step she took, she touched the suzu wand to the door, placing her palm to it. "Kai!" she exclaimed, and the door appeared in a flash of white. "Cool." she mumbled to herself. "I'm not hallucinating, am I?" Daimon's face twisted in disbelief. "I suppose it's because of your lack of spiritual power that you couldn't see the faint flickering outline." the girl guessed. "Still, I've got a bad feeling about this place... Like everything else, really." Yashiki pushed open the doors, revealing a large and dark vault-like area. "Whoa... Amazing." Daimon found himself flabbergast. He noticed a rusty army sword, which he picked. Yashiki flashed his light around the room, gasping. "Are these... Heads of Buddha statues?" "Well, now we know where they were taken." Kisara blinked in disbelief. It looked rather macabre. "They're kind of just scattered around." Daimon spoke.

Suddenly, a sound echoes off something heavy moving, and suddenly, the room is lit with a pale light. "I have... A rather bad feeling." if even someone like Daimon could say that, things were really bad. They quickly turned around to dash out of the room, but the doors wouldn't open. A cold sensation freezes them from the bottom up, as water starts rapidly pouring into the room like a giant waterfall. "What the hell?!" the girl stared is horror. It was paralyzingly ice cold, to the point their legs went numb. "We have to get out of here! We'll die of hypothermia!" the brunet shouted. "WE'LL DROWN BEFORE HYPOTHERMIA GETS US!" Kisara screamed, desperately tugging onto the door with Yashiki - Suddenly, his arm reaches somewhere else, and he struggles to touch the Diamond Arhat head. With a loud sound, water starts sweeping in one direction, and down the drain. "I-It's pulling us in!" one of the man yelled, as the trio got pulled into the whirlpool.

When Kisara opened her eyes, she felt no strength in her body, though her mind was alert. She felt too frozen to snap her head left and right, but she did see the old homeless man and his wide grin saying her friends were safe, but in a similar state. They were in that damn water for a whole hour, at that rate, Daimon's hypothermia theory might just come true. The first to get up was, not unexpectedly, Yashiki, who helped the other two get up, and they exit the shelter. Kisara takes her fellow doctor in car with her, finding a towel around the back of the car to wipe the water out of their clothes, while Yashiki was stuck with Banshee Itou.

Thankfully, they got to the mansion already, by the point they stopped violently shivering - Kisara was very proud of herself for driving so well, even frozen. Banshee gave Yashiki the key to the shelter. "Can we sleep on everything that happened for the night? I'm not capable of doing anything anymore. I'm freezing and exhausted." the two men vigorously agreed. Before she left home, Banshee Itou told them he had been living in the shelter for ten years, only for Zukawa to find her way there, around 6 months prior. He seemed freaked out mentioning the walking Buddha statue he encountered a month earlier, and how he got the Mark. He called it The Kannon Soldier. Apparently he found that name in some document - How did they succeed, was beyond them - But the man burnt the documents to get some warmth and roast a potato. Still, he says he remembers what was written. The Heavenly Buddha Project was the reason the shelter was created, and thus, the 13th Army Engineering Lab collaborated with Unit 731 to get this done and get the upper hand in war. They did tests on Buddha statues brought from some shrine - H Shrine, no doubt.

They tried to imbue the statues with spiritual power, and they even brought a Monk - Of course, nobody truly believed anything would come out of it, and it was an excuse to keep the general busy. That is, until the statue started moving and it went berserk through the lab, going crazy on a ton of people. The bloodstains and corpses are probably its victims. Those who survived the massacre got red bite-like marks. The thing moved and wrecked the place, until it stopped and never moved again. Nobody had a clue what triggered it to move in the first place.

They all were white as sheets, but unlike Hiroo, the rest believed Banshee's story. The old man then came with an interesting theory - The trio's grandpas got the Mark, and when the statue stopped moving, the Mark disappeared, but when it started up again, they got them, cause they're their descendant. Still, wouldn't that mean the parents would have gotten the Marks too? Weird.

"My grandpa is still alive. I'm going to test that theory on him tomorrow." Kisara said. "Good night, guys. And rest well. We deserve it." with a tired sigh, Kisara plopped down in the driver's seat. She didn't even realise she didn't turn on the music, nor that she was driving in the opposite direction of her home. Instead, she found herself in front of another apartment complex. She closed the door and leaned back on the car, staring up with red, tired eyes at the flat above. "Well, I'll be damned." with a sigh, she found herself in the familiar elevator and pressed her finger on the ringing button, not releasing it - She could hear the obnoxious ringing from the other side. Even the dead would wake up with such a hellish doorbell. "Who the he--... You've got the worst time." Kisara let out a shaky yet amused breath. The man in front of her was wearing an unbuttoned shirt and a loose pair of pants. His pretty black hair a perfect mess. "Can I have a cigarette? And some whiskey. And a hug. Yeah, definitely a hug too." he squinted his gorgeous light coloured eyes down at her, and he groaned, getting out of the door frame and nodding at her to come over. "How bad?" he asked, taking out the whiskey bottled and tossing her the cigarette pack. "I hate smoking and I only drink sweet drinks. That bad." he grumbled lowly, plopping down next to her on the couch. "I'll find you something to change in." he got up. "I'm assuming you're staying the night - Or morning, rather." she nodded quietly. He called her over and handed her an old black Tshirt and a pair of shorts in which she changed quickly, and returned to the couch. She shivered lightly, though she appreciated the comforting ambient warmth. Her fingers were tinted blue and were trembling as she lit up a cigarette, and taking a long drag, she relaxed slightly, letting a small puff cloud towards the ceiling.

She never really inhaled in the smoke, she just needed the anti-stress puffing - And mouth wash later. She took a quick gulp of whiskey to warm up her throat. She was feeling better now. Satoru did the same, though he didn't speak. "We got trapped in a vault and almost drowned in freezing mountain water. Yashiki found the drain button. We got pulled with it, and almost died of hypothermia, a whole hour soaked in that damn water." she was feeling groggy from exhaustion. "The underground shelter was built for human experimentation. We found one of the surgery rooms and I was stupidly selfless enough to get on the table and experience... Victim awakening!" she dramatically threw her hands up in the air. "And you know what happened? I got surgically tortured, dismembered and eviscerated by my own grandpa, the Surgeon General of - Wait for it - Unit 731! Can you believe that? That freaking Unit 731. I should have known. They wanted to make a living Ashura from the Buddha statue bodies, and the head of women victims. As if that was going to give our country victory in war. And one of these statues actually got up and slaughtered most of the personnel. Those who survived, got the Mark we have now. Daimon and Hiroo are both like me, grandchildren of people who worked there and survived the massacre. When the statue stopped moving, the Marks disappeared. The old homeless man said a month ago he found the Buddha statue moving around the shelter. No wonder we have Marks now." Mashita turned his head to stare at her, wide awake and cringing with disbelief. "If anyone else said that, I'd have called a psychiatrist." he grumbled. "Nothing you said makes sense."

"Can I hug you? I'm cold and sad, and I don't know which is worse." she asked all of a sudden. She found herself being brought into an embrace. "I want to confront my grandpa tomorrow. Can you please come with me? I don't think I can do it alone." "Yeah, sure. I can do that." he patted her messy hair. She looked outright disheveled and exhausted to the point of falling off the rails.

"Satoru." she called out. "I felt the whole torture of a teenage girl, taken as a sex slave from Nanjing, after that whole mess our soldiers did. Her boyfriend and father were killed in war. Her mother and grandma were killed back then. She was taken by our people and brought in this cursed city. They used her body, they drugged her, they abused her... And when she was finally broken, they tied her to a table and started cutting down in her." tears were falling down her face rapidly. "I can feel my own grandfather's hands digging through my body, ripping out organs and taunting me with them. I can see my own blood cascading down the table, pooling to the ground. I can hear him mocking me... From the moment my eyes opened on the table, to the point that all my limbs were cut off and organs were removed, and he finally allowed me to die." his grip on her body tightened. "I can feel my sanity breaking. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I already lost it down there a few times. I let the spirit put me in trances. I'm too weak." "Hey, now, don't say that. It just means this is the last ghost you'll have to deal with. You've done enough already. Dealing with others' mistakes and sins isn't your job." he stated firmly, caressing her hair.

"Satoru?" her voice sounded so small and vulnerable. "Can I cry?" "Go ahead and cry as much as you need. We'll solve everything tomorrow. Relax for now."

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#purify thy soul #death mark x oc #death mark x reader #death mark imagine #death mark #mashita satoru x reader #mashita satoru x oc #mashita satoru x hasashi kisara #mashita satoru imagine #mashita satoru

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fadebolt · 5 months ago

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This'll be a quick one, since I already covered JUNGLE02 on its previous 1v1, and D08 is not a particularly complex one.

So I've already shown a ton of love and appreciation for E08, the room which D08 is usually the follow-up for. And I'd say it works wonderfully in that role.

It was a pretty clever choice to have karma 5 be the one that represents self preservation, not only because reaching it requires quite a lot of self preservation on the player's part, but also because its mural is the point where the low gravity ceases to exist.

My appreciation speech about the mural area is under E08's first 1v1, and I'm not gonna repeat myself here - but as a conclusion to all that, this place works rather well.

There's also the background, which doesn't feel nearly as unique, now that Downpour added in regions like Metropolis and Spearmaster's Looks to the Moon.

But before, this sort of background for a building was quite special, and I think it's real neat that it managed to inspire a bunch of new rooms. (Especially with how the symbols change colors… I wonder if there's any meaning to that, or the Ancients just randomly picked based on what they thought would be pretty. Though blue is prominent in LttM's design, and so is yellow within FP's, so SRS might have orange or dark purple glyphs, while NSH could have lime or bright purple ones)

The lower left part is also quite solid, having a shelter and a Popcorn Plant that often comes in real handy, and a big ladder that actually makes perfect sense to be there (not just for gameplay purposes, but for the lore/world building as well).

And lastly, there's the entry from E08, which I need to note. Many rooms have these longer entries, where the pipe your Slugcat has to crawl through is really long, and you actually get to see another screen before the entrance pipe even appears.

The Echo room in Farm Arrays, and the first Sky Islands room you see when entering from FA are great examples of this, especially with how they utilize this trick to give players a really impressive view, as the devs don't have to worry about the concept of 'gameplay space' there, allowing them to put all their focus into making the screen look as stunning as possible.

But D08… doesn't really do that. It instead makes you look at a bland wall with a bunch of pipes. And honestly, I think it's perfect.

The sheer contrast of that screen, and the vibrant colorful rooms inside Five Pebbles really does a perfect job at establishing that this part of him is not really 'alive', in a sense, and it sets up the expectation that you're about to return to more bleak and mundane areas. Only to then immediately shatter that expectation once you see the city view on top of The Wall.

So to conclude - I do believe that both of these rooms are really strong, and have many great things to them. I wouldn't consider either to be my personal favorites, but I do recognize and value their achievements. And now that I'm having to pick one, I've decided to go with D08, mainly because of how it works together with the nearby rooms, which JUNGLE02 absolutely does as well, but in a way that doesn't feel as interesting, at least to me.

Pick Your Favorite Rain World Room, Day 299.2 R5

There is a hidden slugcat in one of the rooms (they can be in any color). If u can see it comment or reblog with where they are and if u are first, u get a cookie!

Credit for game screenshots goes to: Rain World Interactive Map, Rain World Wiki and me

Congratulations for day 298.2 winners!

#rain world room poll #rain world opinions

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belovecore · 2 years ago

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Okay okay okay, I’m honestly really curious about how Springtrap and Zero meet? Like, when ST arrives at Fazbear Frights for the first time, does he bump into Zero when she gets on her shift? Does he try and attack her at first? What were their first impressions of eachother? :0

This isn’t meant to be nitpicky or pressuring in any way lol, I just love the concept of this ship so much I think it’s so cute,,total beauty and the beast scenario imo x)

- 🌙 Anon

oh, it's not pressuring or anything at all! i'm so happy to answer aah /pos

thank you so much for the ask again, i'm so so happy to talk about this and to have someone who loves to ask questions and hear what i have to say!!

so like, might repeat myself or go back and change things but don't feel afraid to ask! so what i got is:

Zero got hired around the time Springtrap got found in the closed off 'backrooms', and as such they were repurposing and 'cleaning' Springtrap to use as a prop rather than his old springlock wearable plush suit self since that would take way too much money or work to achieve and also on fact of 'authenticity' and its creepy so lol

they basically gave him a normal poseable endoskeleton and put him in a spot alongside other animatronic props to let people see him as they walk back and get spooked.

when this happened, he sorta had 'purple guy's' leftover soul sort possessing his circuits which once he was pulled from the room and cleaned up, he suddenly powered on during one of their first shifts.

he was very confused since to springtrap, while he wasn't an actual machine to begin with and just a suit, his whole mold assumes his character persona as 'springbonnie'

so like, picture waking up in a place you don't know, in disrepair, and you have no clue what to do or what to think. he's suppose to be walking around and seeing the kiddies during the day with all the bright colors and happy faces. but now, he's in some run down dark overrun place and has no clue what occurred in the long period he wasn't being 'worn'

so naturally he gets up and just, wanders around looking for kids, that's what he usually does and this happens to be afterhours once the theme park closes so Zero is in their 'office' just doing a checkover and keeping watch over the place and then Springtrap sees her.

Zero, not knowing well, animatronics can be alive?? sorta? is freaked out and like is just put off by this giant rabbit prop that isn't supposed to be able to stand and walk just, staring at her from the doorway.

her first instinct would be to call for help via phoneline but she's honestly not a fight person, or even flight so she just freezes. it's not like she could bolt since he's standing in the only exit of the office.

but after springtrap gets over just, seeing a human again and defaults into this sort of comfort mode since sometimes back then, kids would be scared of him.

it's a long talk and springtrap lowers himself so not to be as scary, and basically they hit it off quite well from both being down on their luck and nowhere else to go or much to do. they really start to bond and zero gets to keep him company each night since she can't tell anyone about him being 'alive'

overall their first impression of each other is fear and curiosity and confusion, and spring starts out more as his old springbonnie persona but tends to gain his more 'springtrap' persona from purple guy's ghost in a way.

he retains sweetness and knows how to entertain, but also becomes more of a person who has been through a lot and doesn't always hold up his old naive and utterly devoted love to everyone he sees. he can be a bit snide and cynical, but also shows a very soft side to Zero and cares for them unconditionally.

might not be explaining what i mean 100% well but hopefully some of that makes sense? idk, i do plan to draw zero's nightguard look and maybe do some writing or art around them both.

the art might have to wait cause i'm still working on how to draw springs all over again lmao

#long post #word heavy #text wall #asks answered #moondrop anon #🌙 anon #zero is me #persona: zero #broken heart spring

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

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Hey Nat, I'm kinda blaming you for my budding infatuation with Nanami and I was wondering if I may request Nanami and his s/o having their first kiss? It doesn't have to be long but I'm just feeling soft and with the way you write him it sounds like a treat once this reserved, professional man finally allows himself to give in

oh anon i am so... so very soft.... you cannot blame me for the nanami desire. he is simply irresistible.

date night - nanami x reader (3k)

you’re nervous about your first date with nanami.

warnings: none. fluffy, soft. neutral reader, some mentions of food and alcohol.

You cannot help but be nervous about tonight.

Your friends have made fun of you, talking about your hot date – Gojo thumping you on the back, Shoko looking at you with her tired eyes but a smirk on her face. Neither of them really get it, you don’t think – to them, Nanami is their former junior who is just a little too serious for his own good. A gloomy, stoic presence who they trust implicitly due to the good head on his shoulders, but who they do not really see as ‘a potential romantic match’. They know that you’ve been harbouring a crush on the former salaryman for months, and they’ve already tried to warn you off him.

“He can be so boring,” Gojo had said, swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Let me set you up with someone instead!”

Your face had heated up at the idea that Gojo didn’t trust you to make your own romantic decisions, but he was already halfway through listing the name of every eligible bachelor he knew (and a few who he said ‘weren’t eligible, but they probably could be, for you!’). You’d been able to do nothing but listen politely as you’d walked with him to his classroom, occasionally gathering strange looks from the students that were milling around in the corridors.

“Think about it!” He’d cried to you as he’d stepped into his bare classroom (you hardly ever see him doing any actual classwork in there; mainly, you see him lying on top of desks and making fun of his students) and greeted the three first years waiting for him. “You don’t wanna be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life!”

You hope his students don’t hear him, as you decide to go for a walk outside to clear your head.

You and Nanami have been dancing around the idea of maybe possibly being something more than friends for weeks. You’ve felt it, in the brush of his hand against yours, the way that his eyes seem to soften and his tiredness seems to lift when you’re near him. You’ve felt it, as you’ve passed him a cup of coffee and he’s relished the warmth emanating from the cup. In the soft way he speaks to you.

You’ve felt it when he’s held your hand as the two of you have walked together, not saying anything. In his scarf wrapped around your neck, smelling like him.

What you haven’t done, is go on a date.

And perhaps this isn’t a date the way you’d once have dreamed about it. You’re going over to Nanami’s place; he’s going to cook a meal for you, the two of you are going to catch up after he’s been gone on a mission for almost a week - the two of you are going to watch a foreign film he’s been able to get hold of, that you’ve been saving to watch with one another. You’re going to perhaps have a glass of wine together, or two--

You kind of do want to be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life.

It sounds so silly when you say it aloud! You haven’t even kissed him, just brushed fingers and held hands and saved each other’s lives whilst on exorcisms together. But whenever you close your eyes and imagine your future, Nanami is always there, right beside you.

You breathe in deeply. You have to ignore what Gojo and Shoko and everyone have been saying. They’ve known Nanami for longer than you – they were his upperclassmen, after all, and you suppose it’s traditional to make fun of and quash your younger classmates a little. You just need to think about what you want, and what Nanami himself may want. Plucking uselessly at your clothes, nerves fizzing in your stomach, you elect to ignore the anxiety gnawing at you until you’re at least outside of Nanami’s front door.

Then, you tell yourself, then, I’ll allow myself to panic a little bit. Seeing Nanami’s calm, handsome face always calms me down. The minute he answers the door, I’ll forget that I was even nervous, and everything will be just as it should.

It doesn’t stop you worrying, as you get dressed and try and fluff your hair and rearrange all of your accessories whilst you get ready. It’s just an evening at his house, you try and keep telling yourself. He’s not expecting me to show up like a runway model, he’d probably hate that anyway--

Still. Having a crush on somebody is never easy, and Nanami can be so utterly unreadable at times, that you get dressed and undressed twice more before you settle on something in between casual and formal; that looks like you’ve made an effort, without looking like you agonised for hours to figure out what the level of effort should be. You’re clutching a bottle of wine and standing outside of his door three minutes early, wondering if he’s the kind of man who gets annoyed if you are there too early.

The door swings open, and Nanami is there, leaning on the door frame. He’s breathtakingly handsome, in casual clothes – an expensive looking sweater in soft grey that gives just a peek at the column of his throat, cuffed jeans. You’ve never seen him look so . . . relaxed. And the fact that he’s looking at you, his lips barely tilting, his tired eyes just a little turned up at the corners.

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you thank God that you went with this outfit. You hold out the bottle of wine for him, and his smile breaks wider as he looks at it. “You didn’t need to bring me anything, you know. I’m happy to be the provider this evening.”

“It’s-- it’s polite!” You insist, and Nanami steps aside to allow you into his house. He’s very proper, and you’d wanted to impress him – you think the young lady who had served you in the specialist store you’d anxiously entered had sensed your worry, and had been very kind as she’d picked something for you she was certain you’d like.

“You made a good choice,” he tells you, as he invites you into his hallway and you gratefully pull off your shoes. “This one looks fine--”

“I didn’t really choose it,” you admit. “I let the experts do it.”

He laughs, the sound like an early spring morning. You don’t think anybody else hears him laugh like that, and the comfort that the two of you share makes you feel soft and warm.

“Even more admirable, then,” he says. “Most people we know would just barrel in guns blazing and insist they knew the right way to do things.”

You both share a secretive smile, your cheeks warming. You can feel tension draining out of you the longer you spend in Nanami’s company. Something about him just sets you at ease.

When you’d first met him, you’d been frightened of him. He seemed so gloomy and intense, so utterly focussed on his goals – when you had tried to speak to him, he had brushed you off with short one word answers and you’d caught him looking at you when your back was turned as if he was waiting for you to slip up.

But as time had worn on . . . as time had worn on, Nanami’s edges had softened. You’d realised that he was willing to talk, when the participant had proved themselves to be worth talking to. He’d told you once, shrugging, that most jujutsu sorcerers just tended to be . . . odd.

“Not you, though,” he’d said, and your heart had leapt in your chest. “Well. You’re not odd in any way that isn’t charming.”

He’s not usually the kind of man who heaps praise on other people; that little compliment, you had carried with you like a flame in your heart. The first time he had held your hand, he hadn’t said anything. The first time he had walked you home, and met you for coffee in a morning a half hour before you were due to be at the scene of an exorcism; Nanami Kento shows that he cares about you in a hundred different little ways that aren’t as simple as telling you it out and out. You admire that about him. You’re so used to putting your foot in your mouth.

“Come sit at the table,” he says, and you follow him obediently. His house is tastefully decorated, somewhere between modern and traditional; he has shelves of books everywhere, and that makes you smile. You’ve heard him say, sighing; “When I’m done with all this, I’ll finally have time to get around to reading them.” The shelf in the very corner of the dining area is the only one that looks well-thumbed; even from here, you can see that it’s where he keeps his recipe books.

“I hope you’ll like it,” you settle into the chair that he pulls out for you. He moves into the kitchen with purpose, grabbing serving dishes and utensils and juggling them with a precision that makes you admire him all the more. “I’m very glad you were on time. It’s the kind of dish that needs to be eaten at the exact right moment.”

He whips the cover off the main dish.

You knew that Nanami was a foodie. His instagram is full of pictures of various places and treats he’s eaten – with a particular focus on adorable baked goods, especially bread, that had made you feel warm inside when you’d noticed. Still, the spread that he’s laid out before you would not look out of place in the most high-class of restaurants; the kind that you’d never had the money to afford to eat in, and you’d have been afraid of showing yourself up at the tables of. You stare at it, mesmerised; the vegetables, so bright and colourful and steaming, lovingly presented – the glaze of the meats, the bowls full of side-dishes that you can’t quite recognise.

There’s an anxiety in his face when he looks at you.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. “I think I probably over-estimated. And over-compensated, I suppose, for not taking you out to a restaurant--”

“No,” you say, quickly. “It looks delicious. I’m glad you invited me. It’s just . . . a lot.”

“Yes,” his eyes rove over the table. “There are only two of us.”

“It’ll make good left-overs,” you suggest, and he brightens.

“That should have been my line,” he tells you as he retrieves the wine you’d brought. You can see that there was already a bottle chilling in a bucket by the table, but Nanami’s face is affectionate as he pops the cork and pours some into the wine glass by your plate. “I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Sorry for stealing your thunder,” you take a sip of the wine.

“Just as long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

The food really is delicious. You could easily have had seconds, or even thirds – on an ordinary day. A day in which your stomach isn’t churning from how alone the two of you are. There’s a buzz in the air that isn’t quite tension; more, it’s a promise that there’s more yet to come. You and Nanami laugh over dinner, the conversation surprisingly easy when the knot in your insides is so tight. He talks about his old job, and you talk about your own adventures before you’d ended up in Tokyo – he smiles, and laughs, more than you’ve ever seen him do.

He seems so much more at home here. That’s silly, considering it is his home – but somehow, there’d always been an image of Nanami in your head as serious and unforgiving with his tie very tight and his suits perfectly pressed even when he was relaxing in his own rooms.

That image is quickly wiped away, by the way he looks as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater to take the dishes away.

“Let me help you wash up,” you try and say, but he waves you away.

“I’ll leave them for after you’ve gone,” he says. “I’m not going to ask a guest to do that. Or maybe I’ll even be bold; leave them for in the morning.” His smile makes you feel weak at the knees, this time – a spot of pink high on those sharp cheekbones. Is he blushing, or has his face gone rosy from the wine?

The two of you migrate into the living room. His television is large, but not ostentatiously so; a row of DVDs are neatly in the cabinet beneath it, mainly drama films, period films and some foreign prestige box sets. The movie the two of you have been talking about is one of those – a Danish film about an ageing detective who takes on one last case. You had originally planned to see it together, when it made it to Tokyo cinemas; but one thing had lead to another, and before you could both get the schedules to work out it had gone.

He places the DVD into the player and you can’t help but stare at him; how the soft material of the sweater clings to his broad shoulders, how the jeans seem to emphasise his ass – he’s always in slacks, you’ve never really had the chance to ogle it before, but seeing it in front of you now you suddenly understand why he keeps it covered. Who knows what riots it might incite, if it were just out and about for anyone to see?

“You’re staring,” Nanami turns his head slightly, catching your eye. Heat rushes to your face – but he keeps your eyes pinned with his own for a moment, before deliberately dragging them down the length of you, sat on the sofa. You feel hot and warm and bothered by the way he smiles afterwards, as if he is saying that he likes what he’s seeing too. “You don’t need to be sneaky about it. I don’t mind.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly going very dry. Nanami moves across the room, sitting on the sofa beside you. Heat seems to be radiating off of him; there’s a comfort in having him next to you.

“You look uncomfortable,” he says, five minutes into the movie. He leans back, an arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa behind you. “You can lean on me, you know. I don’t mind.”

He looks inviting. His head is tipped to one side as he meets your eyes; there’s no challenge in his. Just a softness. A quiet affection. Perhaps a touch of nervousness – of trepidation, that you’ll refuse the offer. You hesitantly sidle closer, leaning your head against his side. His scent wraps around you; freshly cleaned laundry, peppermint, coffee, spices, some of the wine from earlier--

You fair go dizzy at it all, but not as dizzy as you go when the arm on the back of the sofa wraps around you, his fingers resting on your shoulder. How are you supposed to concentrate on anything, with him so close to you? With everything about him making you feel like you’re on a roller-coaster climbing upwards and upwards, hurtling towards the inevitable?

You try – oh, you really do try – to keep your eyes on the film and the subtitles scrolling across the bottom of the television. But the aged detective is not half as interesting as Nanami; as the way he focusses on the screen, as his face bathed in the light. As his hand, as it gently starts to stroke over your shoulder, as if he’s barely aware he’s doing it. As his tongue, as it darts out to nervously lick at his lips.

“You’re staring at me,” he says, and you flinch that he’s noticed. His head turns, pinning you with the full force of his gaze. “Are you not enjoying it? We can turn it off?”

How do you answer that?

The real answer: ‘I’m not enjoying it because I can’t concentrate on anything other than you, and how badly I want to be brave enough to kiss you’, feels too bare and bold. You bite your lip.

Nanami leans in closer to you, so close that you can see the flush on his cheeks. The slightly ruffled hairs falling over his forehead. You can count his eyelashes, almost--

“I’m not sure what’s going on either,” he admits, softly. “And I can speak Danish.”

The arm not around your shoulders moves, resting on your waist. You can barely breathe. He’s so close to you; so gorgeous, in the light. All of that former salaryman indifference seems to have gone; he’s not cold any longer, but boiling hot. You’ve been watching it slowly strip away from him since you met him, you think, but tonight might be the first time he’s been Kento Nanami with no pretension.

Nervous about his food, even though he knows he’s an excellent cook. Blushing as he realises you’re checking him out. Almost trembling, as his hand slides up and he cups your cheek like you’re made of porcelain and he’s afraid he might drop and shatter you at any moment. You blink up at him, honey-slow, so dazed by his touch and his presence you can barely make sense of what’s happening.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Nanami says, as a warning. Even now, he seems to think you might pull away. But you cannot, you do not; you just press yourself closer into him, your voice coming out very soft and small as you whisper;

“Please do.”

He does not need to be asked twice. His lips are so soft against yours. The wine clings to them, intoxicating and heady. The hand on your cheek tips your face further up, so he can keep his mouth pressed against you so sweetly. You pull back, your heart pounding.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he’s saying, almost immediately, nervous that you have changed your mind – but all you do is free your arms, so you can wrap them about his neck and pull him in closer, to devour him the way you’ve wanted to for months.

The movie plays on, forgotten.

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