#a violent crime from happening to me. its RANDOM when it does happen and its nor via ZIO TIES ON FUCKING CARS

[timeisacephalopod]

Breh I know that there's always been urban legends about weirdo killers looking to murder people but I gotta say this modern panic of people sticking zip ties on cars or fuckin leaving a piece of cheese on cars being a sign someone is about to HUMAN TRAFFIC YOU is so hilariously egotistical it's almost funny if so many women especially didn't think this shit was real. Like people typically have a motive for wanting to harm someone, which is why stranger danger is rare to the point of being fake in the way we conceive of it. In fact if you're scared of stranger danger I hope you're a man, because men are far more likely to be killed by strangers than women (because men often die by strangers in stuff like gang violence while women often get murdered during intimate partner violence).

But like no, no one is """"targeting""" you by putting a fucking zip tie on your car. Or cheese. No one is hiding under the fucking car looking to slice your Achilles heel, that is not how human trafficking works. Also it's basically only people with money enough for CARS saying this shit and idk how to tell you this but if you can afford a car you aren't a target for that type of violence because people would notice you went missing. Unless you're a fucking homeless teen you're not an ideal target for trafficking and you're not going to get sold into sexual slavery you're just flipping shit over innocuous shit probably done by bored teenagers.

I'd say this is True Crime Brain but the information in here is stuff I GOT from my interest in true crime, these people are just gullible and have enough ego to think everyone cares enough about them to want to murder them on sight 🙄

[nevertheless-moving]

stormlight au number 35 (help me i'm lost in the sauce)

Jasnah, Dalinar, and Renarin (surviving Kholin Radiants) travel from End of World all the way to right after Gavilar's death.

Vengeance pact still happens, but plays out very differently. We don't need absolutely every man in the kingdom to join the army, alright Elhokar? And we're making sure Dalinar is there to accept their surrender, actually win in reasonable time frame and 'conquer' them (no Alethi want to live out there anyway, and as long as they send gemhearts in tribute we won't enslave them. actually elhokar, your sister wanted to talk to you about slavery—).

Honestly, just an excuse for:

A) Adolin to have a breakdown that his entire family has been replaced by voidbringers, before eventually accepting with relief that they're still his family, they've just become voidbringers, but its ok because he loves them and will protect their increasingly heretical actions with his life. Hugs his glowing red and green eyed little brother a lot.

Adolin: do I — should I also learn to read?

Jasnah: do you want to?

Adolin: not really, no.

Renarin: to be honest, it's probably for the best if you just focus on being, well, a good Vorin Alethi. One of us probably should be, if we don't have a desolation as a distraction.

Adolin: ok! sure! I can do that. Also thought id mention that if possible, I would personally appreciate *not* having a desolation.

Jasnah: it may prove necessary.

Adolin: I know, i know. Just thought I'd put my feelings out there.

Dalinar: and we'll need you to produce Kholin heirs. Neither Renarin or Jasnah are likely to, and I'm not remarrying a younger woman.

Adolin: Sounds good!

B) Kholin family to have way too strong a reaction to this random darkeyed surgeon in training when they visit Kharbranth, scaring the absolute shit out of said darkeyed surgeon. Adolin walks into a wall when he sees Kaladin. He doesn't even know about the Radiant thing, it's just that

C) Kaladin dresses really hot in this au. Ok. I lied. this is actually the main reason for this au. It — there's a whole chain of events. I – don't look at me like that. The character development works, alright?

A lot of it boils down to distracting people from groping the female medical trainees.

He realizes that breathing in a certain way, while it makes you focus better and move faster, it also makes you more...present somehow? people pay attention to you, for better or worse. Some of the ladies teach him that there are different ways to channel people's focus on you, if they're looking anyway.

And apparently, for the first few years Kharbranth medical students, light and dark eyed alike, have basically no protections from wealthy patients or Lighteyed chief's of staff who are a bit too interested in teaching you to use your safehand, and its not like Kaladin can challenge them to a duel - he doesnt know how to fight, and it would get him and the person hes trying to protect kicked out of the program. So much for honorable lighteyes being real.

But I mean. If wearing some eyeliner, and a gemstone in your hair, if taking your right glove off first after an exam, conspicuously leaving the left on while talking, if bending over to pick his clipboard up in a certain way... if it gets people to not focus on his friends...

...one could probably get pretty angsty with this concept, ngl.

The Stormlight understanding and oaths come in time. There might also be some Radiant Disguise Superhero hijinks, havent fully decided but it's not really a major stretch from canon to say that Kharbranth struggles with violent crime. Also Kaladin gets to learn about institutional racism in school. It's great. I have a lot of Kaladin thoughts but so does everyone in this au so its ok.

Kholins visit Kharbranth:

Jasnah: you've been moping for days. Is your new fixation of the week not responding to your advances?

Adolin: I don't want to talk about it

Dalinar: son, you've clearly been in a mood—

Adolin: look, I'm not — the individual is not suitable for my station, alright? I'm not courting someone I could never actually marry, because that would be stupid.

Jasnah: while it would complicate matters, you know your brother and I have plans to alter the alethi codes around eye color, considering they're clearly a crude derivative of radiant mythologization

Dalinar: I thought we agreed that was low on the priority list

Jasnah: You said that uncle, Renarin most certainly did not agree, and his arguments are sound

Adolin: He's just some surgeon, alright! He's not just darkeyed, he's a darkeyed man. I said I'll get over it! I always do.

Dalinar: ah.

Jasnah: ...did you say surgeon?

Adolin: Yes? Why?

Dalinar: why does it —

Jasnah: how did you meet?

Adolin: He was — he was with this group of women at a winebar, and he was dressed like – but it turned out he just goes to protect them from - and it was so — why are you asking me about this?

Dalinar: Oh! A darkeyed surgeon. Protecting, you say? He sounds...honorable.

Jasnah: Very honorable.

Adolin: He is! He volunteers at this house for injured soldiers, and you wouldn't believe he'd never been to war, I mean his spear Katas — he's – it's like he was born for it —

Dalinar: He sounds like a fine young man. Perhaps you should bring him to meet us.

Adolin: I — while I appreciate that father, I really do, I thought I was the one who was supposed to well. I mean my role in...all of this is to produce heirs and look proper, right?

Jasnah: Hm. when you put it it that way...

Dalinar: I mean, Navani and I might be able to...

Jasnah: Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of producing a child, should it prove absolutely necessary,

Adolin: Jasnah?

Jasnah: Provided the man you're courting is of worthy quality.

Adolin: We're not — I haven't been courting! I didn't think it was an option! I don't even know if he's interested! From what I can tell he has people throwing themselves at his feet all the time!

Jasnah: An abnormally honorable darkeyed surgeon, natural warrior, magnetically charismatic personality...yes that might make a worthwhile addition to the family.

Dalinar: I can write to Elhokar at once, recommend that he and Aseuden —

Jasnah: Uncle we've been over this — this is exactly the sort of thing that led to me insisting you come with me on this trip! If we cripple his ability to lead—

Adolin: Are we — are we moving into the discussing the future part of the evening, because I can go guard the door—

Dalinar: wait, when you say produce a child, you don't mean through soulcasting, right?

Jasnah: I don't see why I should answer that question.

Adolin: Yeah, i'm just going to go guard the door now

[clare-with-no-i]

hi clare!!!! very random (I’m clearly having a wild NYE), but if you don’t mind, I’m super curious about your opinions re: sarah koenig and true crime journalists. I saw you posted about it a while back on clarewashere (I would have submitted this ask there but that blog didn’t have an ask option!). I have always hated true crime podcasts but I know you’re super educated on the criminal justice system and I would love to hear your perspective

totally feel free to ignore this :) cheers! hope you’re having a lovely NYE!!

hi beloved! thank you for the question! also yeah I have my asks off on that blog because one time someone sent me anon hate on there but didn't realize it was my main and that I'm, yknow, me, which was really hilarious lol. anyway.

soooo god I have myriad problems with the true crime genre. it pretty much does everything possible wrong when dealing with conversations around policing, criminalization, and incarceration, and yes I even mean the 'sensitive' true crime people and not just the YouTubers who do makeup while talking about, like, Ted Bundy or whatever it is they discuss.

true crime as a genre and phenomenon sensationalizes crime, creates an unrealistic culture of fear based on wildly standout incidents of violence, and reinforces false ideas that a) police in this country solve crimes, which they don't, FBI statistics on homicide clearance rate give a (very optimistic!) estimation that about 54% of homicides are being solved per annum; b) kidnapping, murder, other violent crimes are a significant portion of the prison population, which they absolutely are not; c) that white people are just as likely to experience violent crime as people of color, which they aren't at all. the airtime that these incredibly niche, outlying stories get overwhelms real conversations about the carceral state in America (prison gerrymandering! over-policing minority neighborhoods! stop and frisk! civil asset forfeiture!), and they also strengthen this insane mythos that there is a hard line between perpetrators of crime and victims of crime, which, no, there absolutely is not. an overwhelming majority of incarcerated persons have themselves been victims of some form of crime. crime is born from poverty, from underfunded school systems, from homelessness, from lack of healthcare, from feeding drugs into Black communities and then arresting drug users. it is a function of the structural racism and classism that permeate the American reality. it's not just joe criminal waking up one day and grabbing an axe. like yes of course that happens, and it is terrible when it does, but to only report on that/make it a feature of a media subculture is frightening.

and people might say, oh, well, what's the harm? it's just a youtube video!!! but the popularity of narratives like those spread by true crime pods/videos is, and let me make this clear, exactly what tough-on-crime lobbyists and legislators want. how do you think laws like "Three Strikes You're Out" get passed? the popular consciousness gets swept into a moral panic about violent crime and looks to expand the prison system as a means of harm reduction.

and to anticipate another counterpoint: when people are like, but it's spreading awareness!!! ok…awareness of…ongoing police investigations? great. and which investigations in particular? whose stories get told, and whose get ignored? I remember seeing some dumbass take that true crime pods 'spread awareness about domestic violence.' cool. and what structural solutions are we positing? what resources to possible victims are we providing? what funding toward shelters, toward civil legal funds, is being allotted from the earnings? yeah I thought so.

outside of its larger effects on its consumers' understanding of criminalization, true crime is so gross on a human level: these are real people's stories. these are real families of victims who have to watch their loved ones' deaths get discourse-ified and mangled on the internet like it's the latest episode of fucking Game of Thrones. Netflix and other streaming services have created scripted TV shows and films based on real human suffering without ever checking with the families or getting approval. and, honestly, even those scant YouTubers who get families' approvals, I still think it's sketchy as fuck. like, you're still profiting off of this, if not financially, then with it being your entire career just sitting in your house telling the stories of other people's trauma for clicks. yikes?

also, sooo many true crime fanatics are feral weirdos. sorry to say it. there is no goddamn reason why people should be dressing up like Gabby Petito or her murderer for Halloween. there is no reason rando white women should be making "if I go missing" folders with, like, locks of their hair and vials of their spit in them. there is no reason to create conspiracy theories around victims of domestic violence and act like they're actually manipulating the world and/or their abuser. there is no reason that lawyers on fucking TikTok should be making weeks-long series on a domestic abuse trial filled with meme audios and funky freeze-frames. it's weirdo behavior!! I'm not sure at what point we all got desensitized to the idea that people are entitled to privacy and respect when dealing with the objectively hardest times in their lives, but Jesus Christ !!!

to wrap up, my gripe with Sarah Koenig is that she's a hack lmao. Serial not only garbled most of its content wrt the Adnan Sayed trial, but it also stole from Rabia O'Chaudry's investigation of the trial, and left key significant pieces of his bungled defense out. and then SK claimed credit for getting him out of prison. blech. she's also the final boss of all true crime journos because true crime podcasting absolutely took off after Serial, much to my chagrin.

there we have it, this was a dissertation, sorry to anyone who actually reads this, it's such a rant lmao. thank you again for asking <3 as a known haver of opinions it's always a pleasure to be asked about said opinions

[audreydoeskaren]

do you know Chinese symbolism for homosexuality?

tw homophobia, pedophilia

Hi again, for gay men there are a couple really well known ones but I’m not sure if they were real or fabricated, because all the articles describing them always cite the same couple sources from Antiquity... I tried to verify them but the only articles that didn’t copy and paste from the same source came across as extremely homophobic, so I decided to give up. The most common and reliable one is probably 断袖 or “cut sleeve”, which I mentioned in a previous ask. I would like to use this opportunity to talk about some tangential but more important topics regarding homosexuality in China though.

As a followup to my previous ask where I said I'd look through some Ming and Qing novels to see how homosexuality was perceived at the time, the conclusion I (unfortunately) came to was that homophobia was very much alive and well in Chinese literature and society. A lot of people like to argue that gay people fared pretty well in China historically by either pointing to emperors who were or were rumored to be gay or time periods where gay sex was prevalent as a form of consumption. This is extremely shallow and also kind of Orientalist in my opinion, these arguments always go for the emperors and do not take nuance into consideration or dive into wider societal discourses on homosexuality in imperial China. If you research homosexuality in Europe by only looking at royalty, you’ll find plenty of homosexual behavior too, does that mean gay people had it very easy in Europe historically?? Not to mention that they usually don’t differentiate between dynasties, let alone centuries or decades, even though public opinion on homosexuality in China (or anywhere in the world tbh) could change very quickly. This is also sort of Orientalist, assuming “imperial China” to be a never changing entity with a never changing stance on homosexuality. Since I know nothing prior to the Ming Dynasty I’ll share some of my random findings on homosexuality and homophobia in the Ming, Qing and 20th century.

Gayness as disease

Nowadays the symbol of the cut sleeve is just a benign historical allusion but historically it seems that it was used in a negative and condemning sense, implying that people thought of homosexuality as a disease or deviation from the norm. The common phrase used for the cut sleeve is "断袖之癖", usually translated as "the passion of the cut sleeve" nowadays, but the meaning of the word 癖 here leans more toward "fetish", "obsession" or "hobby" with pathological connotations. I thought maybe this word had a different, nuanced meaning historically but it seems that it was used to describe what it means :(( The only silver lining is probably that with the progression of language it isn’t offensive anymore.

In a lot of popular novels from the Ming and Qing, homosexuality was depicted as a "perversion" and a decadent lifestyle that plagues morality, and gay characters were often either killed or straightened out by the end of the story. An example of this is the story 黄九郎 Huang Jiulang from the series 聊斋志异 Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio by 蒲松龄 Pu Songling written in the 17th century. In this story, one of the protagonists was gay; he died after confessing his love to the other guy in a very fast paced bury your gays arc which somehow reminded me of the Supernatural finale, and reincarnated as a straight man because of his piety. Thanks I hate it. Pu uses the symbol of the cut sleeve to refer to the protagonist, presumably in a negative manner.

Gayness as power/status symbol

Another thing was that historically in China a lot of people confused homosexuality with pedophilia. This is a global thing, but its presence in China is often overlooked. This could be seen in the popularity of another term for homosexuality, "娈童", meaning something similar to "pederasty". I read somewhere that since the late Ming, pederasty was considered a type of tasteful consumption for high society, along with things like fashion, food, music and art. This was not equivalent to the "cut sleeve" or homosexuality as we know it nowadays, which refers to a personal sexual orientation, pederasty historically often refers to an imbalanced power dynamic where a wealthy, privileged man takes advantage of a young boy as a leisurely activity. It’s more to show off that someone in a position of privilege and wealth has the power to procure sexual objects, gender and age don’t matter much in this regard. I cannot help but cringe violently whenever someone brings up pederasty as proof of China’s historical “openness” toward gay people. Talk to me again when in this time and place you could marry someone of your sex (not a minor) and be considered a respectable couple instead of two jerks with a degenerate fetish (not saying that gay people have to marry, it’s just that the ability to do so is an important indicator of equality imo). Pedophilia and homosexuality are not one and the same good heavens.

I hypothesize that the reason why Chinese society was historically homophobic despite having no religious condemnation of homosexual individuals was the idea that having many concubines and male children was a status symbol for men. Women of marriageable age were seen more or less as commodities and male children could supposedly "continue the bloodline" 传香火 and were vessels for passing down prestige, so having them were of utmost importance to a privileged man. Being just gay or lesbian, however, meant that you didn't perform the "man strong working woman weak making babies" heteronormative family prototype, and was thus prone to criticism. When gay men didn’t have children they “couldn’t continue their bloodline” and were emasculated, when gay women didn’t have children they failed to “fulfill their duties as a woman” and were shamed.

It kind of makes sense considering how being bisexual was never a problem in comparison, especially for men. If you were a rich guy who had both male and female partners, you would still have children and concubines both male and female so nobody gives a shit. Emperor Zhengde of the Ming (reign 1505-21) was presumably bisexual and had both male and female lovers, nobody had a bone to pick with that; he famously liked to fuck around but those who criticized him did so for his debauchery instead of focusing on the gender of his partners.  This is different to homophobia in Europe where same sex attraction was considered evil and immoral in and of itself because of religious reasons, in China it was rather the other practical implications of homosexuality (not having children or a family) that attracted hate.

By the way can we just take a moment to talk about bi erasure in Chinese history. From all accounts of Emperor Zhengde I’ve read he comes across as extremely bisexual, but a lot of people try to make him a gay icon? I mean, he liked women too.

One interesting homophobic angle in ye olde China which I find kind of funny was straight women who wanted to climb the social ladder by marrying rich men talking shit about them after figuring out they were gay lmao. Historically, there were not so many work opportunities for women, so the easiest way to improve social standing was to marry a rich and powerful guy. Not saying that women didn't work, they did but their upward social mobility was restricted because they couldn't enter the imperial examination system which was how men became rich and powerful. This angle is relatively benign and kind of helps illustrate that historical Chinese homophobia was indeed fueled by classism and patriarchy.

Gayness as crime

I used to think that there were no anti-sodomy statutes in China (laws prohibiting sex between gay men), but it turns out that there was one decree in the Jiajing era (1521-67) and one in 1740, and private gay sex was not actually decriminalized until 1957. Same sex marriage is still not legal in China at time of writing. I couldn’t find detailed information on what these laws entailed or how they were enforced, but they’re enough to prove that homosexuality in China was legally punishable from the 16th century onward. On top of that, even when there was no law prohibiting private sex acts between people of the same sex, displays of gay affection such as kissing or holding hands could still be legally punished under “public indecency” or “hooliganism”, which was frequently what happened in the 20th century. 

[spideymarvelws]

ooo!! no pressure but- #9 in random with in-game!techno? (i hope ur day's been alright!!)

my day has been decent lmaoo but your request definitely made it better😊I hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist / Prompt List

Prompt : “I want to try something,” “Oh god, please no.”

Warnings : just cute floof, mentions of killing, the voices being pricks

Word Count : 1.6k

Flowers Coated In Colour

Technoblade x GN!Reader

Techno let out a small sigh as he saw his cottage come into view. It was a long day for the piglin, with the sudden betrayal of Tommy, doomsday happening tomorrow and the extensive preparations for whatever dream had in store, it was safe to say that he was burnt out for the day.

His backed weighed heavy with supplies and tools, along with all the voices who just repeated the same thing over and over in his head.

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD 

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD 

He ended up killing a lot more animals and mobs that necessary in hopes that they might calm and decrease his aching head ache but nothing worked. They only grew more violent, frustrated with him that his sword met the body of a sheep and not the neck of a member of L'Manburg.

Which is why he rushed home, reaching the snowy biome earlier that anticipated. The sun was close to setting as he rode Carl into the stables, feeding him a little bit of hay and renewing his water before stepping back out and closing the fence shut.

He trudged to the front of the house, opening the door and slamming it shut, cursing that he might've woken you up. You often fell asleep in his arms and today was no exception. After returning home from the event at the community house (well, what was left of it), you both comforted each other by the fireplace, keeping each other close while whispering sweet and reassuring words.

It was one of the rare times the voices went silence, completely replaced by your presence. No wonder they were so rowdy now, pounding in the back of his head like splinters digging into his skin.

They must pay for there crimes

They have no chance against us

Manburg with fall

Dream seems sketchy

He might use you too

He will use you too

He fell back against the wooden doors, his rough hands slapping against his face, scratching at the scared skin. He wants to destroy L'Manburg, he wanted to watch as the country fell under his wrath, destroying the land it stood on.

The only thing keeping his back was you, was Phil, was all his pets and memories he held at his now joke of a secret home. Quackity and the rest of the butcher army had gotten to them once, used them against him and almost had him executed and you killed if it wasn't for Dream and Punz interfering. Phil had been put on house arrest and Carl stolen from his grasp.

Whose to say they wouldn't do it again? Whose to say that his efforts would lead to nothing but a stronger country that might end up a bigger threat to his cause.

Techno didn't have much weaknesses, some may argue that he had none at all. But he knew from the very beginning that his weakness was his relationships with a select few of people on the SMP and knowing that others were figuring that out as well, he was putting everyone he was close with at risk.

He felt unhinged, the small control he’s been holding on to for so long unraveling by the seems. He trying to keep it for tomorrow, but the voices only started to convince him more and more that he should walk into L’Manburg by himself and take out everyone in their sleep.

That wasn’t what his motives were. He wanted to take down the country, not the people. 

But the voices demanded blood.

Suddenly, he felt the soft touch of hands on his, closing around them and prying them off his face, breaking him out of his internal conflict. He hesitantly opened his eyes, meeting your worried, glittering eyes. 

And suddenly, everything went silent.

“Everything alright their Tech?” you asked, squeezing his hands for comfort.

He blinked, mustering a small smile for you, “Yeah, yeah everything’s... perfect.”

You nodded, letting go of his hands and moving them to his neck.

“Phil’s already asleep if that’s what you wondering,” you said softly, helping him take off his massive cape and resting it to the side. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, carefully prying off his skull mask over his face and taking off his crown with a huff and setting both items down besides his red cape.

“Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” you smiled up at him, taking his face into the palms of your hands. He sighed at the warmth, melting into your touch. He engulfed your small hands in his, finding comfort in your soft skin. 

“Long day?”

“You wouldn’t believe.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, sending a wave of pink up his face and his large ears to wiggle in delight. Usually, he would shake his head, move away from your affection. But in recent times he’s learnt to accept it and reciprocate it in the best way he could.

“Then come on then,” you cooed, taking his hand and pulling him to the carpet in front of the fireplace that had a mountain of pillows and blankets. You loved to snuggle into them, sometimes reading stories to Edward or just watching the flames slowly disappear.

You fell back against blankets, crossing your legs and placing a pillow in the middle. You raised your arms, gesturing for him to join you. He gave you a questioning look but gave in quickly, dragging his body and settling down on the floor, letting his back fall and his head bounce on the pillow in your lap. One of his legs were bent, the other laid out on the ground, his hands clasped together on his stomach.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, eye brows raised.

"I want to try something," you mumbled, passing your hand through his hair.

"Oh god, please no." he grumbled, but his tone contrasted to his movements. His eyes closed with his head tilted backwards, snorting in appreciation at your touch.

You rolled your eyes, tugging harshly at his hair changing his happy noises to a playful growl, "It's nothing bad Techno,"

"Well knowing you, that statement means nothing."

You scoffed, "Glad to know you think so highly of me,”

He whined when your hands felt his hair, glaring up at you. You looked down at him with a playful smile, squeezing his cheeks and making him pout, “Who knew the blood god was such a softie,”

His nose flared while you giggled at his reaction, reaching behind you and grabbing something he couldn't see.

“Now relax... I won’t be doing anything bad I promise.”

He was about to protest until he felt your fingers entangle themselves in. his hair once again, lulling back into a meditative state. You hummed as you worked on his hair, sometimes he would feel something thin and sharp poke at his scalp but he payed no mind to it.

As much as he loved anarchy and chaos, he would give up anything to stay like like with you forever. It was hard for him to trust people but when he did, he took advantage of the love and  you gave him and held everything you did together to his heart, valuing it more than money or strong tools and gear.

After a while, he started to doze off on your lap, eyes fluttering shut while you continued to work on his hair. After a few minutes, you finally finished.

“Done.” you whispered, shaking him out of his light slumber.

“I’m scared.” he mumbled, snuggling further into your lap.

“Hey, hey, don’t move.” you stilled his head with your hands, “You’re going to knock them out.”

“Knock what out?” he questioned, only to have you wave a mirror in front of his face. 

He bit his lip at the sight, grumbling under his breath. In his hair held various flowers, shades of blue, purple and pink standing out against his light pink locks. You gently tucked a rose pricked of its thorns behind his ear, leaning down to quickly peck his forehead.

“Now that you have short hair, I wanted to see if I could still decorate your hair without braiding it in,” you said shyly, “It’s not the most secure but I made it work..”

Techno chuckled, “You really miss the long hair don’t you?”

You nodded, twirling a loose piece of pink between your fingers, “More that you imagine... but- I think it’s growing on me.”

“That’s great,” he yawned, “Yeah, that’s great.”

You laughed, caressing the side of his face lightly, “Get some rest Techno, you got a big day tomorrow,”

He hummed, letting his eyes flutter shut, “Yeah... I do don’t I?”

You nodded, “Blowing up a country does call for rest,”

“Why yes-” he yawned once more, “Yes it does,”

With that he started to doze off, his cheek pressed against the cushion beneath him as his head lolled to the side. He wasn’t expecting to get any sleep tonight, he was ready to stay up all night, doing mindless tasks to distract him from the voices that never shut up in his head.

But while your touch faded from his mind, his breath lengthening into an even pattern, he knew everything would be alright.

As long as he had you...

Everything would be alright.

BONUS :

“Hey, what’s that in your hair techno?” dream asked as he sat comfortably on the obsidian grid, pointing to behind the anarchists head.

“Heh?” he sounded, his hand shooting to his hair and pulling out a small purple flower, slightly withered and blood coating the edges of the petals.

He smiled softly, letting his thumb pass on the delicate flower. Pocketing the plant, he kept his head high, adjusting his hold on his sword. He knew that it would further deteriorate in the small enclosure but he wanted proof to take home to you to say that your new methods of decorating his hair was more effective than you thought.

“Nothing Dream...” he finally mumbled, biting the inside of his lip to hide the smile forming on his face, “nothing at all...”

...

I like to think that techno lets out piglin noises when he’s happy🥰

Permanent Taglist (Dream SMP) : @ossinsworld @lunarinnit @chaosofsmarty

Technoblade Taglist : @hyumiid @whenpugzfly @sammyxn

[clockout-comic]

Please give us new folk a rundown on your OCs here >:D

CRACKS KNUCKLES

you just said the magic words bestie get fuckin ready

OKAY SO...

the setup for mrawdrs is that the four main characters all work at the same company (named MRaWDR: Magical Runoff and Waste Disposal Regulations, because the founder is about as original with naming things as i am LMAO) working as a field service team, the same way a crime scene cleanup or hazmat crew would work, but way more magical

first is addie dunbar, the security/medic (still working on her certification on that last one tho)

shes a unicorn, a trans lesbian, and has NO INTERESTING BACKSTORY AT ALL HAHA WHY WOULD YOU EVEN ASSUME THAT... here have some random facts so you stop thinking about it

her favorite author is jane austen, shes a huge classic lit nerd and listens to audiobooks constantly

her sharp teefies are veneers that were an absolute goddamn NIGHTMARE to get put in, because unicorn magic is healing-based and they just kept fucking popping off

shes actually SUPER fucking powerful as far as unicorns go, but being able to refine and direct her magic in a useful way is Very Very Dangerous to do on her own, and theres no unicorns around to help guide her

none that she would want to learn from anyways

hehehahehhahehaheheha

her great-great-great grandmother is brooklyn supreme

her voice claim is hozier, because take me to church is an extremely addie song

her job on the team is to act as a living battery for elmira to use to supercharge her runes, do (VERY MINOR) healing if one of them gets hurt, and to take care of any violent flora/fauna/sentient goo that may show up on a job. support tank!

up next is the teams technician, jones nolastname

a human engineering magic specialist, ball of anxiety, and Ultimate Nice Guy (genuine), they maintain and reconfigure all the equipment that the team uses on all of their jobs

yes thats their real last name. they fucked up the application for name change and never corrected it because they were too socially anxious

theyre a DDR master and will hog the machine at their local arcade for 12+ hours if you let them

theyre also a huuuuuuuge anime/manga/video game enthusiast. were it not for my infinite mercy as their god, they would be addicted to genshin impact

theyre actually the only native resident of the city that everyone lives in, called The Island of Steve (the name changes pretty often lol), everyone else moved from different states or countries

they grew up in the foster system, and were bullied so heavily by their foster siblings for being autistic and having a severe stutter/other speech impediments that they became mute. when they were younger it was by choice, but now as an adult their vocal cords have completely atrophied and theres no chance of recovering their ability to speak

BUT. sign is taught as a second language in all schools by law, so its a little easier on them to adapt

as such, they dont have a voice claim, but the song i most associate with their character is Worlds Smallest Violin by AJR. sometimes i think about paying someone to translate it into asl so i can make an accurate animatic of them "singing" it

third is elmira quickroot, the charms specialist and recordskeeper

fucking ultimate weirdgirl, i love her to death and i want to rattle her around like a maraca. she's a faerie, very british, and yes she does dress like that in her daily life. this is not a faerie thing shes just fuckin weird. her job on the team is to record absolutely everything that happens to the letter (for legal and billing reasons), and doing more intricate charm/rune work (which is essentially like magical computer coding)

elmira has perfect memory! much more intense and detailed than the eidetic memory or hyperthymesia that humans can have, literally every second of every day has been perfectly branded into her memory since the day she pupated into an adult. she doesnt know why, this isnt a normal faerie thing either, and her coping mechanisms for escaping the constant recall are.. not good, to say the least

shes a HUUUUUGE textiles nerd, she makes all of her own clothing on as minute a level as she can manage- by which i mean she weaves her own fabric, spins her own yarn, makes her own patterns, and on and on and on. dont get me wrong, she can and will raid the local Fantasy Michaels or Joann Fabrics for any supplies she can get, but the girl is kind of bugfuck nuts and on bad days she'll get really deep into it

her home country is a cut off faerie-only kingdom in the UK called The Realm, made from the ruins of an old castle built by giants waaaaaaaay back in the day, i need to do concept art of it because its genuinely beautiful

her voice claim issss. complicated. the closest human equivalent is florence welsh but pitched up, but in reality it would sound way less human. the way i usually describe it is if someone sang a sentence backwards into a microphone and then reversed the audio. i might do a demo of what i mean at some point lol, but thats pretty common for faeries

she stole her name from the city in new york and her gender from a random barista

the boobs are implants lol

her wings are based off of a blue morpho dragonfly

and finally... the man of the hour, your grandpa and mine, ultimate babygirl.... TOUFOR!!!

(THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE)

toufor is the customer relations guy, he goes out and does surveys on non-emergency jobs and coordinates with the clients to make sure they get all the right services they need. he is the most well adjusted motherfucker in canon and hes a corpse

(okay thats a lie theres someone who very nearly ties with him, but thats a sentient pair of pants who sounds exactly like sonic the hedgehog. his name is frankie we love him.)

toufor is a ghoul, the only one that has ever existed or ever will exist because hes a ~walking human rights violation~

i wrote out a whole list for toufor and then my computer restarted and deleted all of it so im gonna crawl in a hole for a while. aaaaaaaaaaaa

OKAY

toufor is a huuuuge music nerd, his record/CD collection is valued in the hundreds of thousands of dollars and he listens to everything in it regularly

the only guy in the world who says his music taste is everything and really means it

he has achondroplasia, but is shorter than the average height for people w the same condition. that plus the general constantly rotting a little faster than your body can replenish its cells thing means that he has a lot of health issues

BUT. he has a whole platoon of specialists that have dedicated their careers to keeping him healthy and with a good quality of life. its my city and doctors can be good if i want them to be. their work and the treatments he goes through are inspired pretty heavily by the Lenin Lab, which i recommend you check out this video by Ask a Mortician to learn more about it!!

this body isnt his original, and the elaboration on what happened and how his Whole Deal works is an entirely different post on its own. it will involve diagrams

i have an au that i write with my bestie where some of the characters in mrawdrs work at a strip club, and toufor comes in to do nothing but eat chicken wings for the entire night and then tip $500 to every dancer. they all love him dearly and this vibe extends into the core canon storyline

he cannot perform any kind of magic! due to the way his soul-body situation works, he has no way to access the magic inside of his body, or the stuff that exists in the environment ambiently. going along with that, any magic performed on HIM takes much more "juice" to actually take effect and takes MUCH longer to do so. he isnt a complete dead zone (HAAAAAAAAAA) but his... tolerance? is much higher.

his voice claim is corpse husband. i shant elaborate.

aaaaaaand thats the main bitches. theres also a fuckin LOT of side characters, sexy irredeemable antagonists, and background characters ive put a ridiculous amount of thought into, who all deserve their own posts in time... this is a threat

thank u for the opportunity to gush about my babbies <3

[maddieinwonder]

A Lesson In Romance #7: False Start

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Just a lot of awkward vibes hahaha

Word Count: 1.7k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they try to confess their feelings.

A/N: I didn’t actually manage to include the definition of a False Start in the chapter itself, so I’ll add it at the end. No spoilers for now!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

-----------

It took you 24 hours to decide that you were going to do something about your feelings for the good doctor. Pretty quick, considering you were a living, breathing rom-com cynic. But as ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, once said: "The only constant in life is change".

Specifically, change happened after you woke up in your cute co-worker and dear friend's arms and you wanted nothing more than to get back into them as fast as possible.

But by the universal laws of working in the BAU, catching a break seemed to be the hardest when you actually wanted one.

Firstly, it was like every serial killer in the country decided to cancel their vacations simultaneously, swamping the team with urgent case after case. At this point, you were more familiar with the couch on the jet than your bed at home, and everyone was feeling the strain.

Secondly, if you weren't sleeping, you were usually out in the field chasing unsubs with Derek or Rossi. You had stopped holding out hope for being paired with Spencer — on account of your areas of specialty overlapping too much, and Hotch not being the type of leader to waste his resources — and as a result:

Thirdly, getting even ten minutes alone with the genius became an impossible task, and not for lack of trying either. At the start of the month, the two of you had tried to adapt your breakfast ritual to the road, but it always got interrupted mid-coffee order or even at the ding of the lift. Not that you and Spencer stopped trying, no, but your patience was wearing thin.

So you did something you hadn't done since you submitted your application to join the BAU — you prayed for a chance.

Because every day that you didn't admit your feelings to the doctor was another day fighting the compulsion to tell somebody else about them, and god only knows what a room full of profilers (and one nosy tech analyst) would do with that kind of information.

Then, out of the blue, the door of opportunity opened.

After two weeks of straight travel, the team had earned a well-deserved one night’s rest in your own beds before dealing with a local case, bright and early tomorrow morning. And since your flight landed at 2am and all the trains had stopped by then, this gave you the perfect shot to execute your plan.

Unfortunately, you forgot to take into account the most important factor — your nerves.

It didn't help that Derek had wolf-whistled in the carpark as the two of you walked off in the same direction, nor that Spencer immediately put your favourite album into the CD player out of instinct; an overly domestic action that made your heart beat even faster.

But it was when you arrived in front of his apartment building that you felt the worst of it. As you tried to summon the right words to your lips, your heart hammered in your chest and your thoughts jumbled themselves into nonsense.

"Are you ok?" Spencer asked, snapping you out of your anxious spiral instantly. "You don't look so well."

"I-I'm fine." Your fingers twitched nervously.

"Doesn't seem like it." He looked down at your hands, and you cursed your subconscious brain for giving you away. Then, he placed a hand over yours and your heart stopped.

"You're not alright, that's for sure, but it seems like it's just sleep deprivation." He assessed, bending slightly to look at your face. "You can't drive in this state. Do you want to come in?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, ready to protest, but Spencer beat you to it. "Let’s go. You wanted to talk about something, right?" He called out, already one foot out of the car.

Before you could realise what was happening, you found yourself sitting on Spencer's couch holding a warm cup of tea.

This was the first time you were in his apartment. Yet, it was exactly what you thought it'd be like. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, filled to max capacity with books of every topic imaginable from neuroscience to philosophy. Those that didn't make it to the shelves were found in random stacks around his apartment, standing out against his forest green walls.

"Did you know that chamomile tea is a natural remedy for insomnia? In fact, it is commonly regarded as a mild tranquilizer. It's calming effects may be attributed to the antioxidant apigenin, which binds to specific receptors in your brain that initiate sleep and reduce anxiety." He explained, walking over with his own mug.

"I actually did know that." You smiled. The tea seemed to work its magic because you did feel relaxed, and you must have looked it too, because the worried frown disappeared off Spencer's face.

"Didn't know you were a tea person." You commented lightly, blowing the steam from your mug.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He replied mysteriously, and you raised your eyebrows.

Spencer's apartment was too quiet, no rumbling fridge or quiet radio playing in the background to make your awkward silence any less pronounced. It was then that you noticed he didn't have a TV. Somehow this fact didn't surprise you very much.

"You... you wanted to talk to me about something?" He broke the silence, looking down at the hot tea swirling in his mug.

Right. You were here to talk about your feelings. Your face flushed as you tried to summon your willpower, again.

"I wanted to tell you something—" You began shakily. "But before that, I just want to preface, we can ignore this entire thing if you don't agree. I mean, I really enjoy our friendship as it is, and I wouldn't want to do anything to affect tha—"

"Wait." Spencer interrupted urgently, before catching himself. "Sorry, um, before that, can I say something?"

"Um, ok, shoot." You replied meekly, trying to hide your relief behind a long sip of tea. There was a pause as he gathered his thoughts, and you might have been seeing things, but he looked almost... nervous? 

"The day we met, I calculated the probability of meeting somebody that shared my exact coffee order and the result was almost one in a million.” He finally spoke, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “That probability decreased when I factored in working together, sharing the same interests, and... and how I enjoyed spending time with you more than with anybody else."

Spencer cleared his throat, a blush coming onto his cheeks.

"Ever since then... my life just started making sense. I know I’m a scientist, not a poet, and I could tell you all the statistics about relationships in the world, but when it comes to you...”

His cheeks were crimson now, as he ran his fingers through his hair. You had a feeling yours looked the same.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I think you're beautiful and smart, and I have no idea what you see in me, but I'd really—"

Suddenly, both your phones buzzed violently against his coffee table, jolting you out of the moment. You leaned over in a trained motion, only to see exactly what you expected:

Garcia: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

Penny: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

You let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding, and Spencer looked over at you, doe-eyed and nervous.

“The case?" He asked quietly.

There was a silence filled with words unsaid. "We should go." He said finally. "If we leave now, we can still make it on time."

You only nodded in response, more out of duty than desire, and gulped down the rest of your tea. The thought of what he was about to say burned down your throat.

Driving away from Spencer’s apartment was torturous. The doctor hadn’t said anything to you since he entered the car, only fiddling with his bag as he looked out the window. It was too dark to read his expression, but you wondered if he could still hear the way he called you “beautiful”, or whether the moment had already dissolved into the space between you.

Luckily, you didn’t need to wait long for an answer, as Spencer tugged on your sleeve before you exited the carpark, his face scrunched in worry.

"I really didn't mean for that to be so... weird. Can we talk about this again after the case?" He asked softly, and despite every semblance of logic left in your brain, you couldn’t stop the hope from blooming in your chest and you smiled.

That was when Spencer did something completely uncharacteristic. (You didn't know this at the time, but it was something that you would tease him about for a long time after.)

In one fluid movement, the doctor pulled you into a tight hug that elicited a squeak from you, but it only took a second for the initial shock to wear off before you relaxed completely into his warm touch. He took that as a sign to continue, burying his head into your shoulder and letting out a content sigh.

Unlike waking up to your bodies intertwined, nothing about this was a mistake. Not the way his fingers stroked your back peacefully, nor the way his curly hair tickled your cheek. You felt the stress of the past two weeks melt away in his embrace, and so did any coherent thought, except one: normal friends didn't hug each other like this.

Later when the two of you finally entered the conference room, miraculously still on time, nobody commented on the smiles plastered on your faces but everybody could tell. They were profilers after all.

But for the first time in awhile, you were just too happy to care.

-----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @mellowalieneggsknight || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

Definition of a False Start here

[witcher-trash]

Weekly Witcher Fic Recs 3

(I have a lot this week haha) All Your Life (lambert-centric, angst, complete, mature, 1k) Lambert is a parrot. Lambert is a parrot and it’s eating him alive. Lambert is a parrot and there is nothing he can do about it.

Cat in the bag (aiden/coën/lambert, complete, mature, 15k) Aiden gives a cheeky little grin. “I’ll write down the recipe for you once we’ve survived this entire mess.” “If we survive.” Lambert sighs as he shrugs his shirt back on. Their plan does have a reasonable chance of success, true, but the risk is still substantial and a lot of it depends on factors he can’t really control. “We will.” Coën radiates the same optimism and calmness that he displays in the face of almost every adverse situation, something that Lambert has come to rely on more than he sometimes likes to admit. “Well, let’s see it this way – if it goes wrong there is a good chance that all of us will be dead, so not much to worry over, no?” Aiden adds cheerfully. * Coën and Lambert take a contract to protect a king from assassination. A straightforward contract, really - until it turns out that one of the supposed assassins, a Cat School witcher, has decided to go rogue. Now, the three of them have to figure out whether they can trust each other and how to keep both themselves and the king from getting killed.

Crimes Against Gwent (lambert&geralt, complete, teen and up, 2k) Lambert leaps from his chair at the dining table so forcefully that it topples backwards with a loud clatter, and quickly rounds the table to tackle Geralt, bowling him over without any regard to their surroundings. Geralt’s chair tips back with the both of them in it, creaking and then slamming to the wooden floor. The two of them tumble backwards, rolling onto the plush rug in the living room as they grapple with each other. Geralt has the audacity to laugh, full-bellied and genuinely happy, and it makes Lambert squawk indignantly. The older witcher shoots Lambert a grin and Lambert lunges again. or, Geralt “cheats” at gwent.

Following the Thread (aiden/lambert, wip, 25k, explicit) Lambert thinks Aiden is dead, and killing Jad Karadin is just the final step in that journey. That is, until the truth comes running him down. Aiden is very much alive, he's just missing, and Lambert will do anything to find him and to set things right. If they happen to fall in love along the way, no one is complaining.

Hug a Witcher Day (geraskier, complete, teen and up, 14k) Jaskier writes a new song ‘Hug a Witcher Day.’ It gains insane popularity and Geralt finds himself hugged by random strangers on one particular day every year. He doesn’t mind the hugs. And yet, He realizes that Jaskier has never hugged him. Not on that day, not ever. Oh, but Jaskier looks like he gives great hugs. What can a witcher do to get one from his bard?

Leave You Behind (eskel/lambert, complete, explicit, 2k) “I won’t leave you behind, i promise.” He sounded so sincere. Lambert took a deep breath and nodded, steeling himself for Eskel’s inevitable departure. He’d take the lands to the south this year while Lambert headed west. Neither were sure what Geralt would be doing - perhaps he’d be too distracted by destiny to make much of a dent in outstanding contracts at all. ++ It’d taken decades for the two of them to finally get together. And now that Lambert finally had him, he wasn’t sure he could let go

Living Like This (geraskier, teen and up, wip, 9k) Based off of the ‘Robber: *wakes me gently* ‘You live like this?’’ meme. Geralt is a single father, jobless and down on his luck. One night, a masked man breaks in to his apartment meaning to steal from him only to find that there is nothing there to take…

Love is an Ongoing Process – series (geraskier, mature, wip, 40k) Netflix Canon-related Geraskier falling in love over the years series. It has all the following tropes: Bed Sharing, Geralt Apologizes, Geraskier Slow Burn, Witchers Senses and Pining. Divided in one-shots in a series instead of chapters in a single fic in an attempt to prevent myself from writing too much.

my dearest love, i'm not done yet (jaskier/yennefer, complete, mature, 5k) It's a funny thing, really. A last memory. As if every memory before that counts for nothing, as if that last one will define a love of a life. As if she would love him less if she saw him in agony. As if her heart wasn't already given away and thrown aside with the most violent way. As if the sound of the bottle shattering on the floor wouldn't wail in her ears forever. or A death for a life, a potion and four days. Yennefer wishes it was that simple.

number one wiener eater (aiden/lambert, complete, 8k, explicit) When Lambert loses the hot dog eating contest that he’s won for the past three years in a row, there’s nothing he would love more than to find who beat him and punch them in the face. Unfortunately, he was too busy throwing up to know who the winner was. All he knows is that he’s kind of maybe in love with the guy who held his hair while he puked.

Sometimes I Can See the Wounds (geralt/eskel, complete, teen and up, complete, 3k) Eskel is wounded in a hunt, and no one in the three towns he passes on his way back to Kaer Morhen will give him aid. He arrives at the keep in bad shape. Geralt has a bit of a breakdown about it. This is very soft with a soft ending.

The Alchemist. (aiden/lambert, complete, teen and up, 3k) "This person is known only as ‘the Alchemist’ and neither I, nor any of my associates, have been able to gather any more information on him. I require someone to locate this person and… dispose of the problem.” In which, Lambert is offered a contract and finds what he thought he'd lost forever. Written for the Save A Witcher Bingo! The prompt was secret identity.

There Must be More to Life. But What? And Why? (iorveth/roche, mature wip, 2k) The universe is bound and determined to make Vernon Roche enjoy retirement, even if it means forcing his hand in the matter.

Three Bells, Each With a Separate Sound (aiden/lambert/voltehre, complete, explicit, 30k) In a dank cave in the Blue Mountains, a stripling just barely past the cusp of manhood looks up at a cyclops looming over him and raises his arm in a futile effort to ward off the massive hand as it swings towards him. On the banks of a river, hundreds of miles and precisely five decades later, to the day and the hour and the ticking second, a man raises his hand to deflect the arrow hissing towards him and knows he’s going to be too slow. Both of them have the exact same thought as their deaths approach: Lambert is never going to forgive me.

Tired Of Chasing Ghosts - series (arnaghad/erland of larvik, guxart/keldar/vesemir, wip, explicit, 18k) "A feast," Erland replies. "A revel." Any and every joyful memory from Skellige he harbours involves some kind of celebrational drinking. If it could tie together wind-whittled seamen and -women that mistake insults for proclamations of affection, it can tie together this young collection of witchers. "A revel... with dancing?" Arnaghad sounds pensive, but underneath that, Erland can hear the first inklings of ideas sprouting to life. "Yes." "Alzur-" "Doesn't give a shit," Erland cuts in. "And neither does Cosimo." Only then does he step back to give Arnaghad the space to ponder. "Think about it. Find me after dinner in the stables." In which: Erland wants to make a home out of Morgraig and Arnaghad makes an exception. A song you know's begun - series (geraskier, wip, 200k+, mature) Jaskier wasn't exactly sure what he had expected Kaer Morhen to be like but the keep was everything and nothing like it. The place was a dichotomy. Magnificent and sad in equal measures in its derelict state. Silent but full of noise. Cold yet filled with warmth. But most importantly, it was Geralt's home. Seeing him so relaxed, the sharpest edges rounded down with the knowledge of being safe and surrounded by his family was a beautiful sight to behold. Jaskier wished he too would relearn what safety felt like.

[moonlit-mizukage]

Chapter nineteen: I’d go crazy without you 

Summary: Popular punk band, Skull crusher, had to find a new drummer due to the sudden disappearance of the last one. As band manager and lead singer, Semi Eita’s girlfriend, Y/l/n Y/n brings Kyotani, a rising internet drummer they found online into the picture. Everything was great at first, then Kuroo, the lead guitarist, started getting creepy messages and presents. Y/n is determined to find out who is trying to sabotage the band when things only take a turn for the absolute worst. Who could be the mysterious stalker really be? Is it their new band mate? Or could it be a close friend of one of the members?

TW: Blood, swearing, death, murder, mentions of body horror from last chapter, kidnaping

An: I forgot yesterday was Friday but I am going to now try and post an update for both stories everyday! I posted info on one / two of my next smaus. Its a bnha Hawks samu you can find here!  

Third person Pov 

The door was left slightly open with the dried blood splattered across it. A hand reached up and pushed the door open more. 

“Hello?” Y/n said as she pulled out her phone, she quickly dialed the emergency line as she walked into the house. “I- there’s a- I don't-.” She dropped her phone as she let out a blood curdling scream. Infront of her sat Asahi and Yachi’s body. She ran to yachi, grabbing her friend's dead body. She could feel herself getting sick at the site. She felt herself become ill as she vomited onto Yachi’s dead back. The aroma of blood over took all her senses as she felt herself become weak and passed out holding onto what little hand Yachi had left. 

Sometime later…

Y/n jumped awake in the hospital bed and looked around. 

“Y/n, holy shit, I’m so glad you are okay!” Semi shouted as he threw his arms around her holding her tightly. 

“What happened?” She asked him. 

“You fainted at Asahi and Yachi’s house. An ambulance brought you here.” A knock on the door was heard behind him. He got up to open it. He turned to you after he spoke with them for a second. “Y/n, are you feeling up for questions right now? There is an Officer who would like to talk to you out here” She nodded her head in approval.

“Hello, I am the detective on this case. I want to ask you a few questions about today.” Y/n nodded her head in approval. “Why were you at the scene of the crime?” 

“I was there looking to talk to Yachi. We had a disagreement and I didn’t want to leave things how they were after the Yukie situation.” She looked down at her hands. “She was killed too…”

“I see, can you prove your whereabouts before the crime took place? Do you have an alibi we can talk to?” 

“Yes, I was with my Fiance, Semi Eita.” Semi waved to the women as Y/n motioned to him.

“She was with me, Officer. I can confirm, and we were at home.” He said. 

“Okay” She turned back to Y/n. “Your DNA was found all over the crime scene. Can you explain why?” 

“I ran to Yachi when I saw her. I just- I couldn’t believe it was real.” She whispered. She began to tear up as she looked back up at the officer. 

“Okay that’s all we needed.” 

“Is she in trouble?” Semi asked. 

“Her story matches what we assumed, so as of right now no. Things could still change. If you have any close friends or contacts between this case and the last case we will further investigate the situation and will possibly be back to ask questions. We did find DNA of two more people on the scene, neither of which we can contact. As of now you are in the clear.”  The officer said as she left the room. 

“I wonder who else she found there... But right now what matters is that you are okay. You saw some pretty messed up things the police said. I was so worried when I got the call that it was you who was dead. I thought Yachi killed you first.” 

“What was that last part you just said?” She asked, gazing at him confused. 

“I thought Yachi killed you?” 

“Oh I thought you said something different.” He just smiled at her as he climbed into the hospital bed beside her. 

“I love you Y/n. I’d go crazy without you, I hope you know that.” He kissed her forehead. 

“I love you too Eita.” She giggled as she cuddled into his chest. 

Meanwhile…..

Dachi had Kiyoko's body tied up in front of him as he waited for her to wake up. She suddenly jumped awake and tried to scream. Her mouth was still taped closed as she tried to move. 

“Oh good evening Kiyoko. I was wondering when you would finally wake up. I was getting bored of waiting.” She began to wiggle against the restraints and move more violently than before. “I can take the tape off if you promise you won't scream.” She nodded her head as he stood up. He grabbed the tape and roughly pulled the tape off her face as she let out a scream. “Did I not just say no screaming?” 

“I’m sorry. It hurt.” She whispered. 

“I’m sure you have questions why you are here right?” 

“Why am I here? What are you- what are you going to do to me?” She asked, trying to hold back tears. 

“Well you are the second person who interrupted my plans, so I am going to kill you, slowly and painfully, just as I did to Yachi.” He said with a deep laugh. 

“Daichi please, why are you doing this?” 

“For love of course. What other reason would I have?” 

“You're sick!” 

“Why? Cause I know what I want? I am in love, Kiyoko. I would do anything for this person and they don’t even give me the time of day anymore. So I came up with the perfect plan, only my overall goal has changed you see.” 

“What- what does that mean?” 

“You see it started as love for Kuroo, but maybe it was the look in this other person's eyes that made me feel this way, or maybe it was how wonderful they looked covered in blood. It’s a delightful sight. You're lucky it will be one of the last things you see.” 

“So you and the killer are in love?” 

“Well right now it’s one sided… but it won’t be for long. I plan on surprising them with a special gift.” He said as he walked up to her and caressed her check with his hand. She flinched at the feeling of his four fingers and the rough end of his missing finger spot.  

“What kind of gift?” She asked feeling herself become sick. She looked as if she was about to throw up at that moment. He smiled down at her cryptically,  

“Your heart of course.”

Previous | Masterlist | Next 

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[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Before Dawn ~ Pt2~

Hii!! This is part two of my new series. I hope every one of you like it, I'll be tagging the story with it's title so it's easier to find.

Warnings: mentions of attempted murder

@wakatosji I figured I should tag you but if you don't want me to tag you its alright, I don't want to be annoying ❤️

Comfort tea

"Ew?" First goes Lynne. Her face is contorted with a puzzled expression as she lifts her eyebrow to Petra's sudden requiry.

"Well, yeah, kinda" Nanaba shoots a glare to Nifa, as if judging her for her choice of words before she simply brushes the question with waving her hand. Seconding that, as if she knows what you were about to say a few moments before she sets her blue set of eyes on you. A gulp finds its way down your throat as her cold gaze pierces through your body and it's not long until you get the message. The girls' voices echo through your head as if you're listening from afar for you're drunk in your own thoughts.

For instant, you hate the fact that the first time you try to willing open up about a new feeling, you're overshadowed. The urgent need to spill your guts on the subject becomes more prominent by every single minute passing and yet you force yourself to keep it in. You're not about to physically burst your guts like a corpse under the hot summertime sun because of your emotions, so you should be fine if you collect your impatient self.

"Shut up Petra, I'm serious." A playful chuckle leaves Lynne's mouth.

Maybe, it's the fact that Nanaba knows you too well that lifts some weight off of you for now when at the same time she's stopping you from saying something you'll regret. And thus, you bite your lip and reluctantly decide to ignore the throbbing of your own thoughts.

"He handpicked me for his squad!"

:readmore:

Oddly enough you don't feel any jealousy creeping in your system by hearing Petra's words thanks to Nanaba putting you in your place. Even though, you're sadly reminisced of various scenes of your past where you've been in this very position after your mother has barked at you to stay in place you utter not a single word. Your head almost always automatically goes blank so you're not taken aback by your lack of reaction. Whatever Petra says you're sure going to overthink later, when sleep won't be willing to take you for the night.

"Captain really needs someone else in his squad right? Everyone has five members and he has four. (Y/n) why are you even in Mike's team, you could fill this blank right?"

"It's a special operations squad Nifa you dummy! He handpicked everyone!" Petra's adorable bunny smile is directed towards Nifa this time who gives her a cute puckered smirk of approval in return. It's almost too precious of an interaction for you to miss.

"Mike handpicked (y/n), right after me." Nanaba's voice bores casually into conversation while she takes her eyes away from her plate and lands them onto you. "So, what were you about to say?"

"Uhm" Your mind trails back to today's most random event "Henning imitated Tomas after I said good morning and scream 'nice tits (y/n)'. I totally gave him the finger." This simple choice of words helps avoid any unnecessary drama in your girls group. At least you had some dignity not to throw hands over a man anyways.

_____

"Hange stop squishing my cheeks, I can't sit with the higher ups."

"But you did last week!"

"You dragged me!"

Hange's response is only a silent hmf followed by her ever so memorable toothy mischievous grin. She begins taking steps towards you that only increase as one foot follows the other. Despite not being in a playful mood, you decide that running seems to be the best thing to do in the moment to get yourself away from her. If she catches you, she's dragging you with her once again.

Your heart is erratically pounding in your chest as you sprint down the many hallways of the headquarters, out of breath and dizzied by hunger. You reluctantly pause for a second to catch your breath amidst waiting for the inevitable to happen. Devil sure works hard but Hange and her determination work harder, you're reminded of that everyday, you tell yourself, not only when her hand lands onto your shoulder. You mentally punch yourself in the throat for not keeping your body in a better shape.

"I am not letting you starve again, let's go!"

All while during dinner you converse with Mike and Erwin on shortage of hygienic and sanitary products, something that concerns the commander excessively. Soldiers' access to basic necessities is always a top priority in the Scouting Region and commanders are to always tend to their needs. Erwin is and should be no different.

Levi seems to have his mind in your conversation and ignores Hange entirely while she's speaking some Titan nonsense to him. His eyes often widen when Erwin expresses concern on lack of soap and talks about his predictions on its practical annihilation, but it's only what you utter next that grabs his attention enough for him to turn his head in your direction.

"We can make soap. We don't have to keep putting orders for it to be made. I was taught to make soap at home and I'm sure many other girls know."

Silence spreads fast as if a traveling shadow on sunset on the table after you speak. Erwin's batting his eyes in yours, Mike too and Levi looks at you with that usual unamused expression of his. How come they had never thought about that?

Well probably because it wasn't always that there was such shortage in almost fucking everything.

"My office after dinner, cadet." Levi speaks, breaking the silence with his stern sounding voice. "There's something I need to discuss with you."

__

"Yes sir!" You reply in a heartbeat with a small bow of your head.

Not long after, the distinguishable tone of the curfew bell fills the air, making most soldiers get up from their seats instantly. Levi sits still in his spot as his fellow higher ups bid him with farewells and goodnights to which he replies with casual, nonchalant hums. Upon seeing most of the plebe has left he orders you to stand up and follow him.

He can't help but take a few vague looks of you with the corner of his left eye and he wonders if you do the same from time to time as you march behind him. It doesn't take long for the two of you to reach his quarters, but when you do he takes a stand to unlock the door before proceeding to let you in, him following asuit behind you.

"Here have a seat." He offers unsure of where to point to except for the dark colored loveseat near his desk. "I wanted to know how you even took the knife out of my hands." He watches as your facial expression turns into something along the lines of an almost undetectable disgust and sorrow, your brows forrow and your lips pucker. You couldn't hide it even if you wanted to and maybe the fact that he provoked such reaction from you bit suddenly on his gut and kept chewing on it.

"Just because you were a thug, doesn't mean you're the only one who gets to handle a knife you know." You finally answer, scratching and scrunching your nose in uneasiness. Almost mechanically, the next question comes out of his mouth without remorse.

"Oi what does a brat like you want to do with a knife. You don't strike me as the thug type. You're too uptight for that." A few moments later his gut is going to make him regret ever asking you in the first place.

"Uptight? Ugh, why would you even care, I bet your mother didn't try to murder you in your sleep or with any chance she could."

He grits his teeth inside his mouth and immediately closes his eyes in horror. That horrible feeling of his gut being chewed forms into bits and pieces of wild inner comburst within his organs. Though he cannot phantom what you have been through, he is able of making vivid potential images in his mind that will probably contribute to another sleepless night.

He turns to face you in hopes of being able to mouth anything that could cut through the uneasy tension he's created but at the sight of you he's overthrown. That heart breaking sob that leaves your lips, those thick streams of tears down your cheeks, he won't make it if he keeps looking at you in this condition, all he wants to do is scream, for he's witnessed enough cruelty and damage in this world and it seems that it's never enough. Human bloodlust is never enough.

"I'm s-sorry. I just. Why did I say that?" You faintly utter with uncertainty masking your shaky voice.

"It's fine, as long as you get over it." He definitely despises himself because of that line because in the name of heaven and hell how do you simply ask someone to get over such trauma without sounding like an entitled asshole. The motions that his eyes catch in the dim light of his office are skinny, hard but fragile at the same time and they all hint to you wanting to leave, presumably due to the lack of consolation on his part. He just determined he'll do better. You helped Isabel back on the day so he lets you this one.

"I-I'll excu-"

"Do you have any prefered beverages?"

"M-milk tea" you quietly huff. He's not quite sure whether a drink will ease your boiling pain, but at least he's hoping it'll soothe your current state.

His heart is officially aching with agony and pain that refuses to mellow even a notch, even if he begs to any profoundly selfclaimed wall God. Ever since a year ago he's been living within the heart of crime and downgrade garbage, respected for his violent ways and easily feared for his inhuman skills. In that dirty, shit smelling drain, overpopulated with humans or rats -or probably both, he can't possible distinguish them- who piss in any corner they find, he thought he'd seen any gruesome thing a man can do, but that rough melancholy in your eyes convinces him he's so casually wrong.

"I apologise for bringing such subject up, (y/n), here's your tea. Though due to shortages we don't have any milk." You matter him a word of gratitude as he sets the cup next to you. He'll never let you know, but he notices you're surprised by his actions even in that state you're in.

"She's dead. My mother. She died last month and-" you trail off your words "I guess it's more of me being emotionally chained to my abuser." Levi just pops his head in his palms and sighs deeply at the sound of that but never comes to find the right line up his textureless thoughts should take for him to form a sentence.

"Kinda looks like piss don't you think?"

"Huh?" If he could hear your words correctly and not partially because of the turbulence in his mind he would have thought of an instant smart come back.

"The tea, it looks like piss." At the sound, he barely manages to hold in a chuckle.

He knows yet he manages to only scoff in response. "I had to tremendously water it down, be mindful." He opts to suggest always in that bland tone of his.

"Do other people except from us drink it like that?"

"I desperately want to doubt that anyone cares to provide for your golden shower enthusiasm, so no. This is some of my personal stash."

The two of you enjoy your comfort tea in sheer silence. Levi can't take his eyes off of you, not that he's trying to, but he tries to convince himself it's only because you've verbally shared your trauma with him. In return, for some of his, he didn't have to share, you were there to see Isabel's head laying on the blood stained grass with Farlans upper body accompanying it. He wants to speak up, but his mouth is seldomly never in a place to voice out the exact thoughts in his head, so even if he tells you about Kenny and his childhood you never get to hear it. In addition, he's not the one to try and overshadow somebody who speaks about themselves by sharing his experience so the comfortable silence that has sprawled in the whole of his office is more than enough.

______

Here's the deal. Henning likes Lynne, Lynne likes Tomas, Tomas likes you and you like Captain Levi, not that hard to grasp right? As long as no one neglects their soldier duties everything is fine.

It's a plain sunny Sunday in the Survey Corps headquarters. Mike is on a day out, perhaps strolling around the city of Trost in chance of finding any merchant to provide for soldiers necessities, while you're assigned with cleaning his office.

Levi is standing at the doorframe, back pressed upon it with his hands crossed over his chest as he supervises the six of you go. He promised the blond squad leader to keep an eye on his team seeing that things would get heated up pretty easily nowadays, ending up in heated arguments most of the time as well.

Every time his eyes meet yours you avert your gaze away, specifically to the floor you're set on scrubbing until your hands bleed. He can't help but notice it. Small little movements of awkwardness from his part make you tense even if you're oblivious to his awareness of the fact.

"Tch" He tries his best to shake you off the territory you're occupying in his mind. It's not right for him to endulge in something frowned upon after having just received a position as a high rank. That's not his purpose here. Emotions should never color your judgement in battlefield.

"I'm taking a break." You call to the others as you stand from your kneeling position. You pat your hands dry on the sides of your hips and you hope Levi doesn't notice, because you won't see the end of this.

"I'm coming with you! Wait for me." Tomas announces and you respond a soft 'sure' along with a warm smile. "Ah God, I'm so thirsty!" The two of you walk past Levi at the door, but you never spare him a look, in fact you're too invested in your small talk with Tomas to even ask for permission to excuse yourselves.

"Love birds, huh Nanaba?" Gelgar elbows the blonde with puckered his lips, a ridiculous expression plastered on his face. "I wonder how long until we get the good news-"

"Gelgar just shut up."

"What Lynne? Poor Tomas might finally get his chance with the kid."

Lynne loves you and your group of friends deeply. She and Nanaba are probably the big sisters of the group. They've stuck with you, Nifa and Petra through thick and thin, through bloodshed and tragedy, so she's not mad at you for having caught Tomas' attention. With your melancholic youthful face, (h/c) hair that blows softly in the wind, with the way you pucker your lips when you're determined or angry. She's probably mad at herself for never acting on that cadet trainee crush she had on Tomas. She sets her mind on recovering quickly from it.

Despite opening her mouth to speak, she notices it's not her voice that's heard, but in fact it's a deeper, almost nasal one.

"Set to work, tch, don't waste your energy on royal teenage drama."

"Sir! Yessir!"

Irritated, Levi bites the inside of his cheek, without ever changing the look in his eyes. You were kind and behaved well mannered to everyone, that was all. That was was led you to act nice to Isabel and what led her to speak highly of you to him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

 

"It's alright! Get up" with your eyes shut, you smile at the redhead who's sprawled across the grass while holding out your hand to her. Isabel smiles back and she proceeds to take your hand, taking another chance to spare with you again.

For a few nights she won't shut up about you. How you don't look down on her like other girls do, how you iron her clothes just like her big bro does.

"I'm going to miss her when were free of here, Farlan!" The red head takes a bite of her bread and munches softly on it. Before she even has a chance to speak another word she feels a hand ruffle her hair but notices that Levi's hands are concentrated on the simple task of feeding food in his mouth. She spares you a heart warming smile and wave but you fail to reciprocate as your friends gesture you to sit.

"You're gonna make me miss her too and I don't even know her." Farlan says and places a hand at the top of his head, scratching a soft spot.

"Ahh, big bro! Can we kidnap her!"

"We're not kidnapping anyone. We need to focus on our mission alright Isabel?"

Isabel shushes at this but doesn't fail to shoot you a glare. And this time you respond with a wave. Whatever you lack in word choosing skills you make up for kind acts. She wishes they kidnap you, she needs a female friend anyways.

Hey you there, yes you, thanks for taking time and reading this, I appreciate it more than I can express. If you want to see me write something for you make sure to leave a request in my askbox! Any comments on how you're enjoying the story are also very appreciated. Much love until next time 💕

[hvilested]

Yes, you can cure Maladaptive Daydreaming

Two years ago when I joined this community, I think I was more dead than alive. I've been waging quite a brutal war with maladaptive dreaming and the array of issues that underlie it ever since then and I'm on my way out of this prison. I wanted to do something for you guys so here is a little essay with insights on MD and what you can do to understand better and finally tame this beast. Hopefully, someone will find it useful.

The split and the life between two worlds

Do you think the vague feeling of being split in two and existing between two worlds but belonging to none is exclusive to maladaptive daydreamers?

“If you try to have a conversation with me, I can’t bring myself to listen to you. I pretend to listen and you really think I do but my mind is somewhere else, thinking about it. Every time I try to stop doing it, I genuinely feel as if a part of me has been torn off and a deep sense of personal loss ensues. I feel as if I’m not here but I’m not there either and I can’t shake off this feeling of being split in two.”

This is what a recovering heroin addict once told me. Heroin addict. But it’s also what a regular maladaptive daydreamer could have told you, isn’t it?

Maladaptive daydreaming is, among other things, a typical psychological addiction. Most of the negative issues associated with maladaptive daydreaming come from the fact that it is an addictive coping mechanism and not some unique disorder with specific symptoms just recently discovered. You have heard million times that addictions are encoded in the primitive part of the brain associated with survival – which means that if you don’t get your fix right now, you feel more dead than alive and you need your drug of choice to bring you back to life. Your brain is sending a false message to you – it is issuing an urge that is blown out of proportion, compelling you to constantly indulge in daydreams and making you think that if you don’t, the world will end and you will lose a part of yourself. Drugs usually invade your sense of self – they fuse with it and by giving up the drug, you feel as though you are giving up a dear part of yourself.

Addiction is addiction but different types of drugs and addictive behaviors tell you different things about their users. So what does fantasy reveal about you? MD is like a guardian angel that tries to protect you too much and eventually causes more harm than good. But it’s still your guardian angel that tried lifting a burden off your brittle shoulders. It’s destructive in its own way but it was originally born to protect you from something. To realize and accept what you are trying to run away from is your first step towards recovery. Maybe it’s depression, maybe it’s low self-esteem and loneliness or it’s anxiety or PTSD.

Fall of the self

Maladaptive daydreaming isn’t the act of random mind-wandering – it’s a highly immersive mental activity, where all attention is gathered and directed towards happenings of the fantasy. This would be parallel to a so-called flow state, which is characterized by immersing intensely in an activity to the point of losing the sense of self. Which means, whatever happens in fantasy, happens, but not to you. It is a selfless experience, never integrated into what you call yourself, into sense of identity, into what makes you you. It exists as a detached, ecstatic, fleeting moment that slips through the fingers the moment you try to make sense out of it and process it as your own experience. You witness traces of happiness but the happiness is never yours.

Fantasy is an egoless state of mind where we are not ourselves. And by temporarily cutting ties from your own ego, the conscious identity, you’re also cutting ties from all insecurities you have ever had, from all the problems that are currently bothering you and this is why daydreams feel so damn good. Everything bad is just cut off from your perception. The part of your brain that defines your sense of self, along with all the negative things and mental illnesses attached to it, is turned off.

As you venture into this egoless place that is MD, you make up imaginary people you sometimes end up loving dearly or even fall in love with or you conjure imaginary places you’re desperately drawn to, and then suddenly – you wake up from your dream and you’re violently pulled back to reality and to being yourself. And this is where the problem arises: all those things you’ve done in your dreamworld and all those made up people you’ve come to love have nothing – absolutely nothing – to do with real YOU. They are not attached to your conscious sense of self. All those dreams and false memories you made – you made them in an egoless state of mind. And it’s this that makes you feel split. It’s not the fact that you’re physically apart from the content of your fantasies. It is the fact that your subconscious feelings, fantasies and desires do not connect to your sense of self. Even if everything you’ve been daydreaming about came true, you’d still feel like garbage, empty and miserable. If your imaginary friend came to life to make you less lonely, you’d still be lonely – because MD isn’t about made up friends or lovers or getting a new life. It’s about you not wanting to be you. Everything else is irrelevant.

In other words, you’re not addicted to your fictional characters or your imaginary love or to a fantasy about being a famous singer or writer. You’re addicted to not being you. You’re addicted to this erratic state of consciousness that is MD – regardless of its content – that provides a temporal relief.

I’m not saying that you don’t genuinely care about the content of your daydreams (quite the opposite, more on that soon) – what I am saying is that it’s not your love towards whatever is the content of your fantasies that creates this ugly feeling of being split between two worlds. One thing I can assure you (and this comes from my own experience) is that the moment you feel comfortable being you, those two worlds will reconcile, they will merge into one, and you’ll finally feel at peace with yourself.

Will a part of you be taken away as you give up your daydreams?

Maybe the saddest question I have ever asked myself was ‘how much of myself will I lose when I give up the only thing that makes me happy?’ Here’s a glimmer of hope: you’re not supposed to give them up. To give up the feelings you experience in your daydreams is self-mutilation. As strange or silly as they are, they still represent a censored part of your subconscious; maybe they are an epitome of your loneliness or your sadness. They are a testament to how hard you’re struggling and how hard you’re trying not to be dead – and to give this up is a crime towards yourself. Maladaptive Daydreaming isn’t just about wishful thinking and getting your wounds licked. It is that one place where your life flame stillburns while you may be dead in all other planes of existence. That’s enough to know that this MD thing isn’t all that entirely wrong. Maybe your real life is all emptiness and void but what you do in your daydreams – you do it with passion. And that’s enough to know that you are still capable of loving and caring about something just like other people. So passion exists and don’t you dare ever doubt that. It exists in a wrong place but it exists nonetheless. What you have to do is find a way to redirect those emotions from daydreams to reality and, as stated before, this causally happens once you’re finally you. All the positive emotions from your daydreams will flow back into you and you’ll feel as though these two worlds between which you have lived for so long have at last coalesced into one.

So what you want to do is focus on healing the self. It’s a tough one but there’s no quick fix here. Now comes the irony which you’ve been waiting for: in order to heal yourself, you need to let go of your daydreams. But didn’t I just say that you aren’t supposed to give them up, you ask? Don’t give up the passion, don’t give up the love you have for the content of your daydreaming, don’t give up the feelings – because they are all, real or not, a reminder that you’re alive. What you do have to give up is the false sense of comfort your daydreams give you. Try giving up all those countless hours you spend stuck in your own head pacing back and forth because you’d rather be there than here. Try giving up the temporal fix when you feel miserable. If someone angers you, don’t impulsively lock yourself in your room and act out a revenge in your head; go kick a sofa or something, lash out at something external.

You have to wean yourself off of this strange dissociative painkiller that’s fantasy, then let yourself feel all the pain with every ounce of your being, let all the negative emotions resurface, let them swallow you alive, don’t resist, don’t run away, accept them, let them ravage you, and somewhere along this process, a part of the you will be reborn. Something will awake. Not all of you, maybe just a small part but that’s enough to gather what’s left of your strength and continue the struggle. If you feel the urge to daydream, this is okay – as long as it doesn’t censor the pain which you shouldn’t run away from anymore, it’s fine to give in and indulge for a while if you feel like you have to. Don’t ignore temptations, this sparks the fire of addiction even more. It’s a well known pattern: if you fight the urge to engage in an addictive behavior, it makes it stronger. If you acknowledge it, analyze it, this is what breaks the cycle of addiction. In other words, the imperative is not to block the pain and negative feelings. If a sudden sense of self-disgust or low self-esteem suddenly hits you, welcome it. Welcome it, analyze it, let it consume you, and you will realize it is just a false message your brain is sending to you because that’s what brains of depressed people do, after all. The more you let yourself feel and process the negative feelings without censorship, the more will the urge to daydream weaken and the less you will run away.

Who are you really?

Depression usually enters people’s lives like a tempest – yesterday you were an optimistic person enjoying simple pleasures of life and today you feel like a suicidal or apathetic piece of shit, and this is how it is for most people. Depression that underlies MD, however, takes a different route. It enters your life stealthily, slowly, so slowly you don’t even notice it, then it gradually robs you of emotions, ambitions, memories, motivation, identity, empathy, and you end up thinking: “I don’t remember a time when I wasn’tmiserable,” or “these bad feelings must be a part of my personality, they have always been here“. Because of this, most of us fail to realize where depression (or anxiety or any other kind of chronic mental illness) ends and where we begin. So if this illness isn’t you, then who are you?

Let me make a digression here. MD is usually born when you can’t express yourself properly because you’re anxious, depressed or sometimes simply shy or lonely. Mental illnesses are like lenses which distort your perception. Everything you see appears more tragic, senseless or uglier than it really is. And your both eyes are infected with these lenses. But here your subconscious decides to play a trick on your mental illness and tells you: ‘well, if your both eyes are infected and make things appear worse than they really are, then why don’t you just close them?’ You do and this is the beginning of the addiction to fantasy. You stop paying attention to the outside world and you turn it inwards and use your mind’s eye to create things inside you: your daydreams. This mind’s eye, which is fantasy, cannot get infected with depression and this is why MD is a safe haven. Depression doesn’t reach there. What your subconscious forgets to tell you before it’s too late is that if you close those two eyes used for perceiving outer world, for things outside of yourself, you’ll be completely cut off from reality. But none of this is your fault – this is a war between mental illness, the attacker, and your subconscious, which is your protector, and you are their battlefield. You don’t have a single choice, they are the ones who decide – you only observe. So if you ever blamed yourself for being too weak to make a decision to cease this addiction, stop it. It’s wasn’t your fault.

Back to my question, who are you then?

The daydream version of you isn’t the true you but it’s not a fake one either. It’s a highly filtered product of your subconscious that tried to protect you. Then we have this other real-life you imbued with low self-esteem and negative thoughts that seem to go on a loop forever. Well, that’s certainly not your true self either. Heck, if it’s any comfort for you, the daydream you is far closer to the true you than this real-life depressed version of yourself will ever be.

Can you remember the time when you didn’t have MD? Can you remember your sense of identity when you were a child free of MD? Try conjuring up all those times when you knew how to live in the present. It doesn’t matter if you were 6 years old the last time you were here. Just try to pinpoint all those moments and try to remember the feeling of being in the now. Here’s one pretty handy trick you can use. I always joke that music is a drug that takes you on a trip down a memory lane. It’s like an emotional psychedelic. It transports you emotionally back in time, to another place, another reality, to wherever you wish. It helps people with Alzheimer’s remember who they are and regain a sense of identity for a short while. Maladaptive daydreamers often use music to help them imagine an alternate setting – but what if you used music to transport yourself to the past when you had neither depression nor anxiety or MD or whatever is bothering you? If you can remember a forgotten song which you used to listen as a child who at the time hadn’t had MD yet, listen to it again, try to remember who you were, and if the song is meaningful to you, the old you and your sense of self, which you used to have back then, will come back to you for those few minutes while the song plays. You’ll feel the warmth of finally being you. You won’t quite be in the present – you’ll be in the past, but it’s your real past, it’s your true self. Try to capture this feeling and then try to reenact it. It’ll strengthen your identity in the long run.

I’ll give another example on what set me free from my own MD for a short while. You all know what fight or flight mode is. What you also probably know is that most people with PTSD or chronic anxiety are stuck in a constant state of fight or flight. Spending too much time in this state eventually leads to a burnout and is a sure ticket to depression since you go from fight and flight into freeze mode where all your functions are off and you feel like an emotionless zombie. You don’t care, you don’t live, you don��t get angry or sad or happy, you only exist on autopilot. In order to feel normal and alive again, you usually need a fix so strong which will set your body back on fire. Someone or something has to attack you so fiercely in order for you to rethink your existence and regain your instincts and the will to fight back. This is what happened to me. When one of my daydreams violently crumbled some time ago, I got so ridiculously pissed off that for the first time after several years spent in freeze mode, I felt genuinely alive. I was me. The anger acted like a stimulant and the state lasted for 15 minutes until the anger wore off. But hell, during those 15 minutes, I was me. I was so mad but I was also indescribably happy. I could feel. I could let go. I was defeated but I also won. The thirst, the cravings, the split, this strange nostalgia for my daydreams all dissolved. But instead of just disappearing, every positive feeling that was limited to the daydream world only, such as sense of purpose, motivation and normal self-esteem, flew back into me. I didn’t lose a single part of me – quite the opposite – I regained back that detached part of my soul that existed only in daydreams. What took for me to awake was extreme anger, being defeated, my world crumbing to pieces. The moment I genuinely accepted that my dream world crushed, the moment I let go of all attachments holding me back for years, I was reborn. The anger, which is a natural stimulant, made something in me click. But note: this feeling of finally being alive and the desire to fight back woke up in me once my daydreams were in danger, not me. It’s because we’re so displaced, because fantasy is where we had hidden the core of our souls.

In the long run, you’re destroying neither the daydream you nor the positive feelings that come with it, you’re not giving anything up – you’re just transferring it to reality, to where it should be. But for this change to occur, before you can be reborn and whole again, you have to self-destruct, you have to let go.

[thatnamelessbutler]

(OoC: So, what's the AU thing about?)

((ooc: Okay so basically I got an idea form a song completely unrelated to the fandom and long story short, Bi n Bu are no longer able to escape from the Egg except through a very specific method, and then Karl comes back along and bippity boppity your body is now our property!

So, yeah. Body-swap AU except Karl kinda dies because to get the swap to work everyone's body had to die. Karl's gets healed afterwards through magical time shenanigans-

So Billiam and Rune(Bu's new name in this AU) wake up in the library, in our current DSMP present, in the weird body of this weird guy who's apparently a weird color-shapeshifter.(yeah, i'm going with the cryptid creature Karl for this one because. it's cool as heck and I never see this anywhere)

a little while after they wake up in the present, karl wakes up after being dormant because he literally died and it's like "HEY WAIT WHAT THE HECK YOU STOLE MY BODY" and everyone else goes "shit shit shit shit"

p.s if you're wondering where hubert is he's dead. the egg killed nearly everyone except billiam and butler because bi is its main caretaker and bu will never leave his side

(more under the cut please there's so much and i actually love this au so much)

Now I'm not a system but I imagine these four(yes, four; Billiam, Rune, Piam(Billiam's Piglin side), and Tune(Bu's Other) operate kind of like one. They have an innerworld and everything, they aren't just all constantly crammed into the front. That would get confusing, stressful and difficult to manage overall. Bu's usually the one fronting because no one else wants to; Billiam doesn't wanna do it because he doesn't wanna mingle with the "poor", Tune doesn't wanna do it because it always gets tripped up with literally everything about the body, it's not even dangerous enough to protect now, and Piam doesn't wanna do it because he's kind of scared of the Overworld someone that doesn't know how to be a Human Person

Oh yeah and I've also talked about all this and more with my bestie so here's a copy-paste of that conversation-

I think an encounter with Sapnap and/or Quackity would go terribly too, until they sit down and explain things as best they can wait no actually "So basically, we killed your fiancée so we could inhabit his body and escape from a really bad situation. sorry" Acid Sapanap would go feral and I can't even begin to conceive what extremely destructive thoughts Quackoty would start having Me MHM Sapnap probably pulls a sword on them and they automatically reach for their own before remembering "Oh shit, we don't have it. OH SHIT-" and then they just gotta r u n Butler's trying desperately to teleport but without a pearl, eeeeeh that's not gonna do anything buddy I'm not sure if Karl has armor in his inventory or not but either way they wouldn't have the time or coordination to equip it Acid they just immediately die it'd be so funny Me "NOT AGAIN, WE JUST GOT FREE- death" Now lets hope either Karl has some extra canon lives, or those lives Billiam bought carry over Acid PFFFFT, BILLIAM'S LIVES GET CARRIED WITH THEM AND IT'S JUST revives ok listen we don't gotta dies revives please let's just dies revives why do you do t dies revives this is just gonna last forever isn't it? dies rev- Me wheeze YEAH "GET OUT OF KARL'S BODY!" "We can't!! It's already been done!! dies" "WHY WON'T YOU DIE!!?" "We are!!??" ohhh, bonus angst points if every time they die, Butler goes a little more dormant- Butler was only meant to have one life, he never got any Totems and his soul cannot take this in the way Billiam's can After about 15 deaths, Billiam gets Sapnap to stop for about five seconds, and in those five seconds he realizes that he can no longer hear or feel Butler Acid oh god Me If he manages to get far enough away and find someplace to hide(perhaps the library again), he dips into the headspace and finds Butler just gone. He looks around for a while and finds them far away from where they were, collapsed on the ground, flickering slightly, and entirely unresponsive. And no matter how much he tries, they just won't wake up, and their Ender half has disappeared completely. He can't do anything except wait for them. Acid fjsjdj oh my god imagine Billiam just goes feral after that he's like "what did you do to m y B u t l e r" and just jumps on Sapnap with his bare hands Me Oh absolutely, he will Murder Sapnap without a second thought and he doesn't care how many deaths he has to go through to do it even though dying more will make it take longer for butler to wake up, and then afterwards he'll be pacing around random areas stress-stimming intensely and waiting for his child to wake up Acid yeap Me Somehow he finds his way to Kinoko Kingdom and is like "oh, this looks like a good place for a walk" and then spends the entire time not actually looking at anything and drowned in anxiety

AND THEN THESE WERE LAST NIGHT'S THOUGHTS, SOMEHOW LATER ON THEY END UP AT SAPNAP'S PLACE CAUSE THEY TECHNICALLY DON'T HAVE A PLACE TO STAY Unless you count the library but I don't think that would be very comfortable-

Anyway, Rune was fronting when they fell asleep and then their chronic nightmares came back. Sapnap wakes up(or was he ever really sleeping?) to some almost animalistic gasping in the other room and runs in to find Karl Karl's body curled on the bed, barely humanoid and random flashes of color spiking over him in waves and clawlike hands digging into his head

So he tries to wake him up, and when he does Bu's first reaction is to scramble away in pure terror because he's not fully out of the nightmare yet, there are even tears running down his face that just get absorbed back into the mass of color. Sapnap tries to calm him down, and eventually succeeds enough to ask him what the hell happened, and who's fronting once he remembers that that is a thing-

Thing is, Bu's gone nonverbal, but hey at least Karl was some sort of shapeshifter so they can just shift blobs of color into the air to answer Sapnap's questions

He very quickly learns only to ask yes/no ones because he can't read Galactic which is the only thing Bu can respond in, but that whole night ends on a pretty good note :3

Acid IS KARL IN THE SYSTEM CANON? HE'D BE THE MAIN FRONTER IF IT IS I THINK Me After that nightmare Rune finds himself trusting Sapnap a little more but also not as able to front, he's just so tired of it. No one else wants to front, he always has to stay there and he never gets a break. At least before, Tune had control during the night and he got to rest some. Now his sleep schedule is just as abhorred as before and no one else even comes near the front. He tries as long as he can, for everyone else's sake, but after weeks of fronting alone he just can't anymore. So he finally leaves the front and just collapses face-first into idk a patch of grass in the innerworld or something, and he's so exhausted of being a person that he can't even think straight, He doesn't want consolation, he doesn't want promises, he doesn't even want cuddles he just wants someone else to take over for a bit. Me OOH MAYBE He wakes up and wanders around the innerworld figuring out what the heck is going on and wondering why he can't see the outside anymore and oh god is he dead, are they all dead maybe they're all dead and none of them know it, and then Rune comes out of front and practically begs to not have to be a person anymore, he tells Karl "please i just want a break, just go out there or get someone else to go out there for a while please" and, well, Karl takes a chance and goes out to front and holy shit is this the real world, holy shit are those his fiancées, holy s h i t Acid THAT'S THE BESR OUTCOME ACTUALLY Me YESSSSSSSSS MASQUERADE SYSTEM + KARL THE MAN HIMSELF JACOBS Acid YESSS Me Karl and Rune are now host and co-host, because. no one else wants to front Acid Karl tricking Billiam into fronting.mp4 Me GSHDFGBSGDHFBSF Rune and Karl lock him into front and Rune proceeds to lean against the nearest flat surface, slide down and then dissociate for the next couple/several hours Karl makes sure no one disturbs him, even if Tune and Piam are Very Worried about their exhausted Human hybrid Acid them taking care of Rune (affectionate)

Acid OK WAIT I WAS THINKING AND IN SYSTEMS PEOPLE USUALLY MANIFEST SO I WAS THINKING HOW THAT'D WORK IN THE MASQUERADE SYS AND I REALIZED THAT EVERYONE IN THERE IS TECHNICALLY DEAD IN A WAY WHAT IF THAT'S THIS AU'S LIMBO? ONE DAY WILBUR POPS UP AND COMMITS MULTIPLE CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY Me HOLY SHIT OH SHIT EVERYONE THAT PERMA-DIES JUST ENDS UP AS AN ALTER IN KARL'S WEIRD COLOR-SHAPESHIFTING BODY XDDD You can always tell who's fronting by the colors, as long as you actually know them enough to know their colors- Acid Wilbur: hello Quackity, I am BAC- Karl: oh my GOD Wilbur shut the FUCK UP we understand it you're gay now please get out of front I have a date in 10 minutes Acid OOOOO YES Me Like Rune is purple/pink(mainly pink) gray-red/dark purple/orange/green eyes(right/right/left/left, respectively), and then he has some other colors sifting through, like a dark indigo-blue and a yellow the color of Endstone Tune is all of that but some of it is darker(the pinks/purples and Endstone color), some of it's the same(the eyes, except they have a light pink shine over them) and some of it is inverted. Clouds will waft around the body when it's fronting and whenever you look through the clouds you'll see the colors inverted Billiam is solidly pale pink except for his eyes(maroon) and his hands and feet(gold, with veins streaking out and tapering off at about the elbow) Piam is a slightly redder pink, with spots of a Netherrack color here and there, and his gold is more orangey, like there's fire reflecting off of it karl is just. karl. Of course he's got the signature swirls in bright violent and teal but other than that he's just a smorgasbord of color, usually bright and neon. When he's near/thinking about Sapnap and/or Quackity, little hearts start popping off him

[sineshion]

Nezumi Character Analysis

UH OH SISTERS! Here I am to write an essay on Nezumi and his relationship and actions towards Shion that no one asked for, but I’m doing it anyway.

SPOILERS FOR THE NO.6 NOVEL

Let me start by saying that Nezumi is a really well fleshed out character, and that a lot of his actions and dialogue have more depth than initially comes across. Nezumi starts off as a character who is very closed off, both emotionally and physically. Gradually over the course of the novel, he becomes more and more open, until we reach the climax of his character while in the Correctional Facility. During Shion and his first meeting, he tells Shion that he doesn’t neccessarily care about Shion’s fate, but that he doesn’t want to feel responsible if something bad were to happen to Shion.

“Do you really? I mean, it’s not my problem what happens to you, but if you end up being wiped out because of me, I wouldn’t like that. I’d feel like I did something horrible...”

I find this dialogue to be very telling and foreshadowing, as comparing Nezumi’s mindset from the beginning of the novel and end of the novel shows just how much Shion is able to change him. Though Nezumi might not say it directly, he is just as drawn to Shion as Shion is to him. We come to learn that he keeps secretive watch over Shion for the four years they are apart, in a silent way of protecting him. We could shrug this off as Nezumi simply “repaying a debt”, as he says again and again, but it is far more than that. Shion offers kindness and compassion to Nezumi during their first meeting, which we come to learn is the first real act of kindness he has received in years. Shion shows love toward Nezumi when he arguably needs it most, and though Nezumi might not want to admit it, he is showing love right back by silently watching over Shion, and rescuing him. From the moment they met, Nezumi has become captured by Shion, much like how Shion says he has become captured by Nezumi.

Throughout the novel, Nezumi goes from showing acts of kindness toward Shion, to then showing hostility. Shion is never afraid of Nezumi’s random spouts of violence, in his what I can only assume to be futile attempts to reject vulnerability. Nezumi projects all of his hatred for No.6 and it’s violence against him onto Shion, which he later comes to realize is wrong, and abusive of him.

“This casual act of kindness, or those cold, dispassionate words from a few minutes ago - which one was he to believe? Shion couldn’t grasp him.”

Nezumi tells Shion to throw away his memories, his feelings, and ties to everyone and everything he knows. He continuously acts cold and hostile toward Shion without provocation, which we learn is the result of the way Gran, an old woman who raised him, warped his mind into being. Nezumi has a very unstable and warped mindset on love, and what it would do to him. He has been raised since the age of 4 to fear it like nothing else, which I find so heartbreaking. It is no wonder Nezumi constantly reacts the way he does both to being touched by Shion, as well as kissed, or just generally loved. Gran tells Nezumi from the age of 4 to view any person who loves him as a literal demon who will kill him, thus creating the mental struggle within himself as he tries and fails to keep from reciprocating those feelings.

“Never sigh in earnest. Never cry. You’ll be taken advantage of by demons. Sighing creates an opening, a vulnerability. If you want to stay alive, keep your mouth shut. Never let anyone see your weak spot. Let your heart warm to no one. Never trust anyone but yourself.”

We are told that Nezumi went against Gran’s instruction simply by rescuing Shion. I suspect that a small part of Nezumi wanted to do this (go against Gran’s orders), though he reprimands himself multiple times for his actions. It isn’t that Nezumi is completely helpless from falling in love with Shion, it’s that he actually wants to be loved by the boy, even if only deep down. More and more, he begins to simply sit around and watch Shion, thinking about how beautiful Shion is, how nice it would be to touch him and how much he wants to have physical contact with him, playing with his hair. He begins to lose his sense of control over himself, leaving the door to his home unlocked without even realizing it, sighing over Shion, and risking his own safety to send messages to Shion’s mother unprompted. When he learns of Safu’s abduction, instead of telling Shion, he begins to think of how if Shion found out, it would result in his death. He compares the loss to the loss of his own family, and of the suffering he would feel if that were to occur. Nezumi has already begun to grow attached. He was attached from the very moment Shion and he met.

“He would be experiencing the same suffering again, of being broiled alive in Hellfire.” “I don’t want to lose him. I would suffer.”

This admission is paralleled to Safu’s in a prior scene, where she admits to Karan, Shion’s mother, that she is in love with Shion. She says: “I don’t want to regret anything. If - if by some chance, he ends up never coming back... I’m going to be the one to suffer for my whole life. I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose him.” Nezumi is falling in love with Shion, whether he realizes it at this moment or not is besides the point. He does not want to lose Shion. He does not want to return to a life of seclusion and loneliness, a life without love. He would and will do anything to keep from losing it. Both Safu and Nezumi are in love with Shion, but I would argue that the difference between them, other than obvious ones, as that Nezumi comes to see Shion exactly for who he is, the love he feels for Shion not blinding himself, but illuminating the entire world, whereas Safu does not. Safu continuously compares herself to the person Shion is yearning for, asking why she cannot be them, why she cannot be the one to get to know everything about Shion.

Despite Nezumi’s efforts to hide the truth of Safu’s capture from Shion, this falls through, and he is warned by Inukashi: “If he’s so precious to you that you don’t want to loose him, protect him to the very end. And do whatever it takes to protect him, you idiot, no matter how humiliating it is.” Nezumi wants to protect Shion, and would and later does do anything to keep him by his side, this dialogue from Inukashi foreshadowing Nezumi’s vulnerability and the swallowing of his own pride as he lays everything he is bare before Shion’ feet.

Later, Shion, after finding out that Safu is in danger, confesses all of his feelings to Nezumi, in what he assumes will be the last time they see one another. He kisses Nezumi goodbye, and sneaks out. Nezumi follows after him, and lashes out in a very violent way, and after, saying: “Listen, you’re not allowed to give me a goodbye kiss ever again! Never, ever again!” He tells Shion that this beating is punishment for lying to him, and trying to sneak away, aka trying to die without him. Soon, Shion will turn Nezumi’s warped way of thinking against him in the Correctional Facility, where he will use Nezumi’s reasoning and justification for violence by claiming the two men he attempts to kill are deserving of it, because they have tried to harm Nezumi.

Gradually, more and more, we see Nezumi not only reciprocating moments of intimacy, but initiating them with Shion: “A hand suddenly reached over to him. It was Nezumi’s. It gently pried Shion’s fist open, finger by finger, gently, as if toying with it.” Nezumi still has moments of random bursts of aggression, both in an attempt to continue to keep Shion at bay, to keep from falling more in love, and to prevent Shion from aiding the city or its people in any manner. While Shion admits a love confession, saying: “I’m probably more afraid to lose you than anything - anybody else.” This sparks a fear in Nezumi, at the reality that not only is Shion attached to him, but that he is just as attached to Shion. He’s completely aware at this point of his own feelings. He thinks: “Am I the one who hasn’t known anything all along?” while questioning his past actions, and whether or not he has been seeing Shion in a positive light or not. Nezumi has started to become more self aware through his relationship with Shion, and more in touch with his own emotions.

Once entering the Correctional Facility, Nezumi warns Shion not to lose himself. He promises Shion that they will come back from this together. He isn’t saying this only to Shion, but more so to himself. Nezumi has been captured by the light that he sees in Shion, and though Shion is the one to think that Nezumi keeps him human, it’s quite the other way around. Shion attempts to kill two men, both times Nezumi reprimands him, telling him: “Never put your hands around someone’s throat again!” and “Shion! Shion! Stop - stop, please - Shion, I’m begging you.” and “I want you to stay as you are, Shion.” Shion keeps Nezumi human. Shion is a beacon of light shining down on Nezumi, exposing his own humanity. Time and time again, it is clear that Shion’s humanity and compassion save Nezumi from doom. While Nezumi develops to see the light of humanity and within his own soul through loving Shion, Shion develops to see the darkness in humanity and within his own soul by loving Nezumi. They quite make the perfect narrative foil to one another, developing in an almost polar opposite way. Nezumi ultimately becomes more like Shion, Shion becomes more like Nezumi.

We learn of Nezumi’s past, and of his suffering, in a scene where he allows himself complete vulnerability to Shion, showing him the burn on his back and revealing to us and to Shion how his family and culture were ruthlessly burned to the ground right before his eyes. Shion begins to cry at learning the truth, begins to blame himself for his own ignorance and for Nezumi’s suffering. Nezumi confesses: “I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I didn’t mean to accuse you of any crime. I - can’t even imagine wanting to hurt you. I’m sorry.” “Don’t you cry. You were just a tiny kid. You’re not to blame for anything.” He’s starting to drastically change his mindset and perspective which will ultimately lead to him choosing to believe in Shion, to have faith in Shion, trusting that the both of them truly see one another at this point for who they are. Trusting Shion to remain human, and build a better world.

As they begin their infiltration, Shion begins to grow more and more cold and uncaring of human life. As Nezumi kills guards, Shion says that it simply can’t be helped - it’s kill or be killed. This moment is clear in highlighting not only how Nezumi has changed Shion, but how Shion has changed Nezumi. Nezumi is displeased to hear this reasoning from Shion, which is not something he would have thought at the beginning of the novel. Shion is uncaring, which is not something he would feel were this the beginning of the novel. They have both a positive and negative impact on one another, and alwyas seem to take it to the extreme, though it isn’t neccessarily strange given the circumstances and situation at hand. Nezumi begins to see the direct affect his own actions have had on Shion, and how they have begun to warp his mind, much like Gran warped Nezumi’s own perspective on love. He thinks sadly: “Forgive me, Gran. I’ve gone against what you’ve told me. I’ve sighed many times for another. I believed him, and opened my heart to him. I placed the shackles around my own feet. But I couldn’t have done otherwise. I couldn’t cut him away.” Nezumi loves Shion. No matter what he tries, he cannot escape the love he feels for him. He couldn’t do otherwise, because he doesn’t truly WANT to. He wants to love Shion, admitting this to himself now. The seeds have already been planted at this point for Nezumi to begin feeling his own guilt and remorse at trying to change Shion’s personality, and coming to the horrifying realization that it worked. Nezumi didn’t want to harm Shion, or hurt him. He truly and foolishly believed he was doing what was right, what was taught to him. He feels so much remorse at the point that when he is almost killed by Rashi, he entirely gives up the fight. He allows himself a moment of genuine intimacy with Shion, let’s Shion hold him, as he prepares to die with him. Does this sound like something Nezumi would do? A character who preaches survival, is now willing to die with the person he has fallen in love with. He is not afraid, nor angry, nor sad - he simply accepts it. I find this moment to be very telling of Nezumi’s character.

When Shion shoots Rashi, Nezumi, who is already terribly wounded, tries repeatedly to stand up and stop him from finishing Rashi off. It is shocking not just to us, but to him, to see how Shion has changed. He screams for Shion to stop in vain as Shion commits murder on his behalf.

“He didn’t want to open his eyes. If he did, he would have to face reality.”

Despite trying to repress this, he tries to keep Shion grounded, as Shion has already been shown time and time again to be unstable and suicidal. Shion attempts to commit suicide by shooting himself in the head, asking Nezumi over and over if Nezumi and perhaps even God can forgive him for the murder he has committed. Nezumi thinks that it would have been better had they never infiltrated it at all, had he known it would destroy Shion’s mental state so completely. Nezumi, a character hellbent on destroying the government, is now thinking that Shion’s mental health is worth more to him than destroying the city. He thinks, as he starts to have his own mental breakdown, that he is the one who needs to be forgiven, not Shion. He begins to cry uncontrollably, as he mentally begs for Shion’s forgiveness.

“Shion, I’m sorry. I made you bear the burden, one so big it’s making your spine creak. Would I be forgiven one day? Would you forgive me for what I did to you?”

Nezumi is unable to bear the thought that he is the direct cause of Shion’s attempt at suicide. He is forced to confront at this moment his own abusive actions, and all of the brutality he has thrust upon Shion up to this point. He is begging, literally on his knees, to be forgiven. To be forgiven for all of his mistakes, all of his anger, all of his pain and hurt that he has projected onto Shion. Begging for forgiveness at meeting Shion - at coming unexpectedly into his life and, in Nezumi’s eyes, ruining everything Shion is. Nezumi believes he is to blame for everything, and the weight of the guilt he feels is indescribable.

By the time they get to Safu, Nezumi outright refuses to let Shion do anything, going so far as to drag him by force to the elevator, knowing it is too late to rescue Safu. Shion, through his grief, blames Nezumi for what happens to Safu, claiming he used her and used him to destroy No.6. Nezumi plays his part well, and pretends that this is the truth, saying he never believed Safu was alive, which is a lie. He says he deceived Shion, and used him and sacrificed his mind for the destruction of the government, which is also not the whole truth. Nezumi thinks: “Really? Can you really not understand? You’re a liar, Shion. You do get it. You understand every single word. And you’ll never forgive me. You’ll lose faith in me and loathe me. Or would you-“

Nezumi WANTS Shion to love him, and also hate him at the same time. He wants Shion to take his anger out on him. He wants to self sabotage their relationship, and MAKE Shion hate him, by playing a false role, by pretending to be someone he is not. Even when Nezumi tries to shoulder blame that is not his, his true self shines through under the facaude. Nezumi, a character who used to preach that he would only ever fight for himself, now takes a bullet for Shion, trying to sacrifice himself for him. Going directly against everything he has ever believed in.

By the end of the novel, Nezumi, having come back from the brink of Death, and having gone against all of his previous rules, confesses to Shion that Shion scares him. He is terrified of Shion, or more specifically, of Shion’s love, because it is mutual. Nezumi is in love with him. Nezumi’s love for Shion is in fact so strong, that Nezumi was willing and ready to die with and for Shion multiple times during the Correctional Facility, and many times prior, as well. He’s scared of the way loving someone makes him feel. He’s scared of how it almost got him killed many times, and it would have, had Shion not saved him. He leaves not because of Shion, but because of himself. Nezumi does not understand how to express his love in a proper and healthy way - it’s completely foreign to him. The boy is so traumatized that he’s spent the entire novel both half afraid of and half crazing and actively seeking love. I find it strange when people ask or think that there’s a possibility Nezumi doesn’t love Shion, when his actions so clearly say otherwise. I suspect Nezumi feels unworthy of Shion loving him as well, considering his tendency to self sabotage. I think that Nezumi is very self aware, and by the end of the novel, very in touch with his own emotions. He understands that he must change, and only then can he come back to Shion properly. He understands that who he is currently is not suited for a relationship, and so he makes the maturest call he has in the entire story, by leaving. He kisses Shion, promising to come back once he is ready, reassuring not only us but Shion that he really truly does love him.

Shion had thought that Nezumi was the one who illuminated him completely. That everything became much clearer with him by his side. That “by his hands, I was melted, wrought anew, and instilled with new life.” I find this line to be most applicable to Nezumi, as Shion has instilled him with new life, a new perspective, leaving him forever changed by the love shared and experienced. A line from Safu comes to mind as well, “You feel the same way I do, don’t you? You’re glad you were able to know. You wouldn’t be able to live anymore without knowing what yearning and love is like.”

[pynkhues]

Hi ! I'm sorry if you have already talked about that, I'm just new to the fandom. I just finished s3 and I've felt so conflicted since Lucy's death.. There was a sort of lightness in the show despite of the crime element and obvs flirtation between Brio.. But now, everything seems so dark and Beth is trying to kill him. I feel like there's been a shift and that they'll never be able to come back from it.. What are your thoughts ?? Thank you and stay safe !!

Hi! Welcome to the fandom, anon! :-) 

Season three definitely has a darker feel overall, so I completely understand why you feel conflicted! I think you’re right too - the balance between the lighter elements of the show and the darker ones was really different in s3 compared to seasons 1 and 2, and it gave the season a very different energy. Interestingly though, I don’t actually think the content itself was all that much darker, but rather that shift was felt more in the way that that content was framed and paced.

After all, violence – and the threat of violence – has been a pretty integral part of the show since it began, and while I think there’s a bit to be said about how much of the violence of the show made its way from subtext to text – Eddie’s death happened off-screen, but Lucy’s didn’t, for instance – I also think that there have been moments of textual violence since the show began. Beth knocked Boomer out with a whiskey bottle after he’d tried to rape Annie in the very first episode after all, something that was echoed with Boomer’s completed rape of Mary Pat and her hitting him with her car in 2.03. In that sense, the violence might’ve escalated in some ways across the first two seasons – culminating with Beth shooting Rio in 2.13 – but it’s always been a part of the DNA of the show overall.

In that sense, I think what’s really changed isn’t so much the violence and threat of violence itself, but rather the way that the show frames that violence and the effect that has on the pacing, tone and character beats.

So hey! Let’s break that down a little.

Catch and Release

When it comes to scenes of intense drama or violence – played out or inferred – Good Girls is really a show that, at least for its first two seasons, relies on a pretty defined structure that I’d say goes something like this:

1.    Contextual joke that builds tension and/or sets mood.

2.    Act of violence or drama.

3.    Throwaway joke that breaks tension and/or resets mood.

As a structure, it’s generally pretty effective and is ultimately used to manage the tone of the episode. After all, for a show like Good Girls which is a dramedy, leaning too hard on the joke or too hard on the drama can create the off-balanced feeling we got in s3, but I’ll come back to that later.

This structure essentially presents the violence or drama of the scene as the meat of a burger, allowing the jokes to both complete the meal (delicious!) while also softening up the richness or intensity of the meat itself.

Generally speaking, I’d say Good Girls did this quite simply and effectively in s1, experimented and tested the elastic of it in s2, and more or less got rid of one crucial step in s3. It makes for an interesting exploration of narrative structure, I think, but that’s just because I find this sort of stuff interesting to explore, haha.

So what’s that actually look like in action?

Okay, let’s take 1.01 with the scene I described above.

1.    Contextual joke that builds tension or sets mood

I’d say in this case it was the entire scene at the end of the episode where Annie, Beth and Ruby are arguing about what to do about Rio.

2.    Act of Violence

Boomer attempts to rape Annie, Beth hits Boomer, Boomer falls into the coffee table.

3.    Throwaway joke that breaks tension and resets mood.

And again in 1.02.

1.    Contextual joke that builds tension or sets mood

Annie trying to sell Rio on the dolls.

2.    Act of Violence

Rio ordering Mick to kill Beth.

3.    Throwaway joke that breaks tension and resets mood.

Boomer popping out of the treehouse.

(please forgive my horrible screencaps, I took these after I’d written this post and it’s now late, hahah)

Annnnd again in 1.04

1:

2:

3:

By 1.09, they were already starting to leave wider gaps between the jokes and the tension – which makes sense as it was building towards the climax and they were wanting more drama than comedy – but importantly, this framing was still present. 

1: The girls joking about the van job

2: The tense climax of the van job

3: The joke about the result of the tense climax

And in 2.01, it kept those gaps big as a direct continuation.

1.    Contextual joke that builds tension

Beth putting the mug on the coaster as she scrubs blood off her floor.

2.    Rio shooting Dean in a flashback.

3.    Annie and Ruby bickering about Annie stealing a hospital meal (tone reset as a result of violent climax)

The series went on to test this further in s2 by adding extra beats to create more complex (and interesting, in my opinion!) variations. The clearest example of this is in 2.03 with the Boomer and Mary Pat sequence:

1.    Tension establishing joke: the girls in the hotel bickering about the price of the room.

2.    An act of inferred violence – Boomer rapes Mary Pat

3.    An act of textual violence that builds off both the joke and the inferred violence of the previous scene – Mary Pat runs over Boomer.

4.    A throwaway joke as a tension breaker – Mary Pat worried her kids have heard only to see them engrossed in their devices while the Power of Love plays in the background.

5.    Takes us straight into an even better tension breaker joke with Mary Pat telling the girls she chopped Boomer up.

(That is such. good. snowballing. tension. And I could talk about it forever. Like, seriously. It’s not a sequence we talk about a lot, but 2.03 is an excellent example of complex dramedy writing).

That said, it often still fell back on that classic structure too in satisfying ways. 2.07 being a perfect example.

1.    Contextual joke to establish tension

2.    Tension / act of violence

3.    Tension breaker.

Whiiiich brings us to 2.13.

King

Look, 2.13 doesn’t work for a lot of reasons, but in no small part, it doesn’t work because it doesn’t play with the above structure like the Mary Pat and Boomer arc did in 2.03, nor test the elasticity of it like 1.09 and 2.01 do, rather it completely abandons it altogether.

It doesn’t build tension effectively through that blend of drama and comedy that the show can do really well, nor does it break it afterwards for us with a lighter moment that commentates on that tension, rather it thrusts the violence and drama onto us in a way that wasn’t well established narratively, and – quite frankly – was badly written.

I could talk a lot more about why that narrative choice doesn’t work, but that’s not really what we’re here to talk about. What we’re here to talk about is:

A Change of Pace

Because the thing is, season 3 does actually return to it’s s1 and s2 structure, only with one, crucial change.

It abandons Step 3: the joke that resets the mood.

What this means is that we have the contextual joke which establishes the tension and the mood, and the tension, but then the tension’s never actually broken for us afterwards.

This is perhaps clearest in 3.05 with Lucy’s murder.

1. We have the establishing joke with the girls debating which Au Jus hostage photo to use.

2. We have the act of violence.

And then we have only aftermath.

Ruby crawls into bed with Stan, Annie with Ben, and Beth takes Au Jus home.

On it’s own, I think this is an effective break from structure. I think it underscores the power of this sequence overall and the importance of Lucy’s death as a narrative moment and the ‘innocence lost’ theme. 

Only it’s not on it’s own.

The season kept breaking structure. Over and over again.

It happens after Rio kills Turner in 3.01 (there’s a slightly lighter scene that caps that with Rio checking out of the hotel, so you could kind of argue that it was returning to the same structure, but it doesn’t quite hit the mark for me), it happens when Rio confronts Beth in 3.03 and when he takes her to the OBGYN, it happens when Max tries to confront Rio at the bar in 3.06, and it happens in most of the scenes with the hitman.

In fact, I’d argue that the only scenes that returned to the catch and release structure in s3 were the scene where Ruby stole the hockey jersey, the carwash scene which ended with Mick wanting to go to IHOP and, most effectively, in the Sweet P’s job in 3.10.

You’re talking a lot about sequence structure here, Sophie. 

Right! Sorry! Tangents, haha.

What I’m getting at is that I don’t think the content of the show itself is any different. Murder, crime, intimidation and violence has been central to the show’s DNA since 1.01, and a lot of this has been textual. Lucy’s death I think definitely feels different because she’s the first true innocent we’ve seen killed on this show, but y’know, Rio was threatening to murder random PTA moms way back in 1.07 when Beth’s secret shopper scheme proved – err, unvetted, and Dean was trying to organise hitmen in s2 too.

Structure is important. Structure is what sets up audience expectations and establishes the rhythm of a story as well as – most importantly for this discussion – the tone of one. Seasons 1 and 2 presented the dramatic and comedic elements of the show ultimately as a marriage. The comedy was used frequently to guide us as viewers in and out of tension, and ultimately, I think this is why season 3 felt so different. That three point sequence structure was unbraided, the comedy divorced from the drama, which stuttered the rhythm and ultimately affected the tone.

SO, in answering your question as to whether or not the show can come back from the darkness to find its balance again, yeah, I think it can!

I think the writers sort of wrote themselves into a big, ugly corner with 2.13 and spent a lot of s3 struggling to find a way back out of it. Like, I think on a narrative and a character level, they had to show Rio kill someone in s3 to re-establish him as a character with teeth, because if they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been the source of tension and conflict that they rely on him to be. I think they committed themselves to darker elements of Beth’s character and to asking the question of what it is the girls are capable of, because that’s the sort of thing you commit yourself to when you throw a grenade into your own story like they did with 2.13.

And look, I don’t think they got themselves out of it perfectly by any stretch of the imagination – in particular sacrificing parts of the way they typically structured tension in violence as they tried to reset the board meant they ultimately also chose to sacrifice both rhythm and tone too – but I think they were rebuilding by the end of s3. I think the Sweet P’s job was this show at it’s tonal best, with that marriage of comedy and anticipation and both personal and criminal stakes really working together to build a great sequence (Beth and the Caesar Salad! Anticipation building with Ruby and Stan as Stan figures out what’s happening! A crime plot! Stan coming through in the end!)  

I think the note the show chose to end the season on with the promise of Boland Bubbles, Ruby and Stan reconnecting and the first glimpse of Phoebe infiltrating the girls does reset the board in a way that leaves a lot more room for lightness than the end of season 2 did, while still offering hooks of conflict and tension too. I also think it allows for a return to the sort of sequence structure that lets the show balance it’s tone in a way that 2.13 frankly didn’t.  

Of course, that’s ultimately if they decide to return to it, haha. I hope they do, and I think we were heading there, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see! :-) 

[agentnico]

Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade (2010′s)

Now that we have entered the 2020s, it’s time to look back on a decade of movie magic. To emphasise the importance of each year, I’ll balance things out by including two films from each year for my Top 20 list. I’ve tried to pick films that both defined this decade as well as appealed to me personally, so my list will of course, as always, be different from yours, but hopefully, I won’t totally irritate you with my humble choice, which I deem worthy to post online for the public eye to witness.

2010:

INCEPTION - “You’re waiting for a train...” Christopher Nolan unarguably is the most exciting and original directors working today. Each time he releases a movie, its an event. A literal must-see at the cinema. Which is why this isn’t the only film of his you will find on this list. With Inception, Nolan gives us a movie that is both enjoyable and imaginative, rewarding the audience for the attention that it demands. Filled with so much detail that if you miss certain shots, you will completely get lost in confusion of the narrative (as confusing as it already is). It’s intense and complex, with great performances from the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy, this movie will leave you lingering for more even after that mysterious ending.

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD -  “You cocky cock! You'll pay for your crimes against humanity!” Once again, another exciting director on this list (oh there are so so many!). Ever since Edgar Wright emerged from the British isles, he’s given us some of the funniest films of the past decade and onwards. His Cornetto Trilogy is a blast, Baby Driver is a blast, Ant-Man was going to be even more of a blast if Marvel allowed Wright to do his magical shenanigans his way, and the upcoming Last Night in Soho will surely be a blast also. With Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Wright creates a meta-clever universe taking inspiration from comic books and video games and filled to the brink with wink-wink-nudge-nudge humour, this is an exciting and very sarcastic over the top endeavor. Also, Brie Larson in this movie.....phew!! And unsurprisingly, its all a blast!

2011:

DRIVE - “I just wanted you to know, just getting to be around you, that was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Drive is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. A shamelessly disreputable, stylish, stoic, ultra-violent thriller with amazing stunt work, one of the best opening sequences of any movie this decade and a neon-pumped soundtrack that’s a must-own for all vinyl users, if you still haven’t seen Drive, there’s only one thing you can do. Clue: it’s to go watch Drive.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - GHOST PROTOCOL - “Your mission, should you choose to accept it...” Tom Cruise’s deal with the devil allows him to do some literally impossible stuff, and though I don’t condone his Scientology ways, the man’s stunt work and efforts in his area of expertise are worth all the praise and respect. To be honest, I’m commemorating all three of the Mission Impossible flicks that graced our screen this year (Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation and Fallout). This franchise is like a game of dodgeball, except that Tom Cruise is the dodgeBALL, being thrown and thrust left and right like nobody cares. Also, with me being Russian, the fact that a movie manages to destroy the Kremlin and then have me not hate the film in the aftermath shows that this film is way too fun to hate.

2012:

DJANGO UNCHAINED - “Gentlemen, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.” Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors working today. And Django Unchained happens to be my favourite film of his. The writing for this film is orgasmic (I went there!). The way the actors deliver the lines and the lines of dialogue themselves sound almost poetic to my ears. I can quote so many lines from this darn thing. The cinematography is immaculate. The soundtrack choice is great. The performances, my goodness, the PERFORMANCES!! Jamie Foxx does arguably his career-best work here, but also we have Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio both chewing up the scenery, and I’m sure everyone has heard the story involving DiCaprio and the broken glass. Django Unchained is an easy choice on this list for me, and possibly in my Top 10 of all time.

LES MISERABLES - “Do you hear the people sing?” The film that is based on a musical that is based on a book that is based on certain true events. Tom Hooper did an interesting choice of having actors sing live in front of the camera during filming rather than pre-record their voices, and it works to grand effect, though Russell Crowe should have probably been given more singing lessons. The movie is one hell of a way to adapt such a popular stage musical. With an opening shot that emphasises the scale of this picture with a zoom-in towards this big ship during a storm being pulled by these poor prisoners, we are plunged into the despair and conflicts of various characters with adroit narrative thrust so that not a moment feels wasted or redundant. You’d think that a film with hardly any dialogue and an overall reliance on singing wouldn’t be so emotional. Yet, somehow, it works. Also props to Anne Hathaway for winning an Academy Award for being in a film for only 5 MINUTES!!

2013:

THE WOLF OF WALL STREET - “Sell me this pen.” Martin Scorsese’s mad look into Wall Street life is a bombastic caper and running at nearly 3 hours, Scorsese and his editing team manage to keep an astoundingly intoxicating pace that keeps you enthralled and engaged throughout. This one is definitely not for the families, as this R-rated fest is filled with drugs, money, sex and everything you can possibly imagine and paints quite the picture of the rich folks of Wall Street. And the middle of it all a bravura performance from Leonardo DiCaprio. Someone needs to give DiCaprio’s agent a raise, this is Leo’s third appearance on this list and we’re only in 2013!

THE WAY WAY BACK - “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're having way too much fun, it's making everyone uncomfortable.” Sometimes a little indie flick is enough to lift a human spirit. Real, fun, uplifting and innocent, The Way Way Back dedicated to anyone who felt awkward or out of place at some point in their life, which, let’s be honest, counts all of us. I’m not afraid to admit that. So stop being a b*** and reveal your sensitive side too! Yes, you, the person reading this. Who else could I possibly be talking to? Myself? Maybe. The Way Way Back though is one of the best feel-good indie films of this decade, with the loveable Steve Carell acting very unloveable and Sam Rockwell Rockwelling himself to charm city! If you’ve missed this one, treat yo’self and check it out.

2014:

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL - “And?? Where is it? What's it all about dammit don't keep us in suspense this has been a complete f***ing nightmare! Just tell us what the f*** is going on!!!” Easily Wes Anderson’s best in my opinion (I have a friend who would argue Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums has the better hand but I think my opinion is more valid because it's me), this movie is a glossy, colorful, whimsical deadpan affair with an energetic turn from Ralph Fiennes as the hotel concierge M. Gustave H. as he and his lobby boy run into various Wes Anderson regulars and deal with murderers, stolen paintings, love affairs, prison breaks, and all kinds of crazy shindigs, but all shown in such a casual Wes Anderson way. This movie is like a slice of cherry pie - damn fine!

INTERSTELLAR - “Murphy’s Law doesn’t mean that something bad will happen. It means that whatever can happen, will happen.” As promised, Christopher Nolan makes another appearance on this list, now with his space time-traveling epic Interstellar, where he takes inspiration from the likes of Kubrick and Tarkovsky to give us, as always, a tad bit confusing adventure with great visuals and an interesting narrative (though it does sometimes get lost in its own way), however, the key thing holding this piece together is the father-daughter relationship with Matthew McConaughey and Mackenzie Foy (and Jessica Chastain) managing to bring so much raw emotion to their respective roles that you can’t help but want to shed a tear. I mean, I haven’t cried for over 14 years, but I remember when I first watched this film, the audience around me was sobbing quite a few times during the duration of this movie. Give it to Nolan to give us the emotional moments!

2015:

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD - “Oh what a day! What a lovely day!!” Easily the best action movie of this decade. Sorry John Wick, neither you or Tom Cruise could defeat this beast. The sheer, limitless invention behind this movie's exhilarating, preposterous chase scenes highlights action filmmaking at its finest. With big monster trucks and a random guitarist rocking-it in the middle of all the action, it’s like a nihilistic version of a Cirque du Soleil show! And it makes Tom Hardy the calmest person on-screen; no idea how it managed that.

STEVE JOBS - “I sat in a garage and invented the future because artists lead and hacks ask for show of hands.” If there is anyone who can make formulaic, mathematical or technological sound fun and exciting, its Aaron Sorkin. The man has a talent for writing screenplays about difficult and complicated topics yet turning them approachable for the casual moviegoer. Pair him with director Danny Boyle, and the result is Steve Jobs, a look at the man behind the phone. Narratively set during three important product launches of Jobs’, we get to see the behind-the-scenes of his relationships with his colleagues and family members, and this character study is one that could have easily fallen into generic biopic tropes, but it holds it’s own right till the credits roll. Also props for showing that Seth Rogen can actually do a serious role. Who would’ve thought that pot-smoking fella had dramatic chops in him?

2016:

NOCTURNAL ANIMALS - “Susan, enjoy the absurdity of our world. It’s a lot less painful. Believe me, our world is a lot less painful than the real world.” Fashion designer Tom Ford does sew his suits well. Apparently, he can also make great films too, with 2009′s A Single Man and with said Nocturnal Animals. This movie is truly incredible and I remember it taking me and my friend by surprise when we first watched it at the cinema. It’s shocking. Horrifying. Depressing. Upsetting. Altogether exhilarating. Being of a fashion background, Tom Ford directs the hell out of this movie, with gorgeous shots and great use of colour as well as managing to masterfully create tension and suspense when necessary. Honestly, I know Tom Ford is probably busy at a department store somewhere, but the guy needs to make another movie. The man has a talent.

LA LA LAND - “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem. Here’s to the hearts that ache; here’s to the mess we make.” Oh, La La Land. Damien Chazelle’s follow-up to the also excellent Whiplash. People who know me well know how much I love this movie. An old-school tour-de-force musical that’s a love letter to jazz and the golden age of Hollywood. The city of stars never looked so good. Featuring catchy original songs, excellent dance choreography (the sequence to the song “Lovely Night” is especially memorable) and a romance tale ten times better than the forsaken The Notebook, La La Land is one special movie. I know many are put off by the film’s not so happy ending, however for me it was the only way this narrative could have ended. 

2017:

BLADE RUNNER 2049 - “We’re all just looking out for something real.” Similarly to Nolan, Denis Villeneuve is proving to be one of the most exciting directors working today. He’s the man behind such films as *deep breath* Prisoners, Enemy, Sicario, Arrival and Blade Runner 2049. And those have all been done within the last decade. The man constantly makes quality movies of various genres, though lately, he has been leaning more towards science fiction, which is a-okay in my books, since as Blade Runner 2049 proves, he can turn science into fiction like butter on bread. A sequel made 30 years after Ridley Scott’s classic, this visually breathtaking piece is arguably even better than its predecessor with many moments giving you the “wow wow wow wow wow WOW!” factor, and when Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford are both on-screen they are dynamite. Forget the new Star Wars film (that’s right, I'm throwing shade there), Blade Runner is where it’s at!

PHANTOM THREAD - “The tea is going out. The interruption is staying right here with me.” The supposed last Daniel Day-Lewis film, as he has now apparently retired from acting, but let’s be honest, nothing stops him from simply unretiring at any point. Exhibit A - Joe Pesci. However, like Pesci, if he comes back I’ll only be happy. He’s one of acting greats of our time, and his collaborations will director Paul Thomas Anderson bring out some of his best roles. Phantom Thread is a marvel of a movie. No, I don’t mean that’s its part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I mean as in it can fill one with wonder and astonishment. Phantom Thread is PTA’s Gothic dark fairy-tale romance film, which expertly planned shots and scenes where every word of the dialogue counts. There is no wasted moment. And as the film transpires to its dark and unsettling climax, one begins to realize that this, THIS, is what filmmaking is about. Telling an engrossing story in an interesting way with crisp-clear shots and off-the-chart acting at play, with great costume design on display, although the latter is unsurprising due to a major aspect of the movie revolving around fashion.

2018:

MANDY -  “You ripped ma shirt!! You ripped maaa shiirrt!!” An acquired taste for sure, however, Mandy is indeed something truly special. From first glance, this film might seem like nothing out of the ordinary, especially from the point of view of the plot. Its the usual revenge flick. However director Panos Cosmatos’ vision and how he presents it is so much more unique. And what’s not love in this film? There’s something for everyone! It’s artsy and slow enough for the critics, hip and metal for the nonchalant, gory and violent for the hardcore genre fanatics and of course the Nic-Cage-rage factor is present for the fans of the actor. Alright, it may not be a family film, but this one is worth a watch. The whole thing is bound together by this psychedelic otherworldly environment, with the whole movie conceived in this dark, unsettlingly beautiful yet horror-filled aura that might stray people away, as it might be just too different for them, however, if you are looking for something different to watch, take mandy. I mean, watch Mandy!

A STAR IS BORN - “Music is essentially 12 notes between any octave. Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over. All the artist can offer the world is how they see those 12 notes.” The film that began all the rumours surrounding Bradley Cooper’s and Lady Gaga’s affair. People, heads up, they are actors! They were putting on a performance! Jeez. That being said, I totally ship them. Nuff’ said. The film though? Yes, it’s good. Some country-style music, romance blooming, Gaga can apparently act, people sing about shallows for some reason...all together works for a pretty decent motion picture. Also, the fact that Bradley Cooper wrote, directed, produced and starred in this gives me so much respect for the guy. He poured his heart and soul into this. And Lady Gaga absolutely shines!

2019:

PAIN & GLORY -  “Writing is like drawing but with letters.” Director Pedro Almodovar semi-autobiographical film takes a close look at how one deals with acceptance, being forgotten, symptoms of depression and generally all fairly negative attributes, but delivered in such an honest and profound way that there is a strange lightness that emerges from it all. Antonio Banderas is uncannily vulnerable in the lead role, delivering such an earnest performance that shows a man that is filled with melancholic regret who seeks his own form of redemption. This movie is a thing of beauty.

PARASITE - “You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. If you make a plan, life never works out that way.” Parasite is easily the most original and surprising films of 2019, and possibly the decade, managing to subvert expectations and blend together so many different genres so naturally. To spoil any narrative element of this movie would be a sin, like this one in particular works best when not knowing anything about it. This movie comes to us from Bong Joon-Ho, a South Korean director behind such films as The Host, Memories of Murder, Okja, and Snowpiercer. It’s nice to see the awards ceremonies giving him the proper recognition finally. He deserves it.

That sums up my Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade list. Of course, there are so many other great films that came out in these 10 years, such as Whiplash, When Marnie Was There, Paterson, Silence, Kubo and the Two Strings, The Nice Guys...I can go on forever. Cinema is a constant ever-growing medium, and it is fascinating to see how it changes through the years, in some ways improving and in some parts not so much. In any case, I look forward towards a new decade of, hopefully, great movies, however, let’s be honest, for all these great films there’s always a Norm of the North, a Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse or frickin’ Cats. But let’s hope those will be kept to a minimum. In any case, bring on the 2020s!

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Perchance to Dream

For @whumptober2020

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

Summary: Steve knows something is very wrong. An outbreak of some sort. Something out of Hollywood’s worst nightmare.

Read on Ao3 

Week One

“What’s going on up there?”

Traffic is one thing. Perfectly commonplace in Brooklyn especially, but this is utterly ridiculous, even Steve agrees. This bumper to bumper, stop and go madness is just out of control. 

“I dunno,” he answers Bucky’s question. “It looks like they’re making everyone turn back around.”

“But why?” Bucky asks. “Is there something going on today? A parade or something?”

Steve chuckles as he inches the car forward. “You know as much as I do, babe.” 

It's unusual but it has happened before. Something big going on that redirects traffic that the neighborhood isn't made aware of. Rare. But then, The City of New York isn't always known for its efficiency. 

When the pull up to where traffic is being turned, however, it's not normal traffic cops. It's not even the NYPD. It's the military. National Guard, Steve thinks.

"Turn back that way!" yells the man in front of them. Dressed in full riot gear. "Just follow the detour!"

Rolling down the window, Steve doesn’t intend on giving them a hard time. He’s just curious about whatever’s happening. As a former captain of the army, Steve is familiar with military procedure and now that he’s a paramedic, maybe he can help. He’s sure Bucky, the former sergeant of the 107th, won’t mind lending a hand either, if they need it. 

“Is there any way we can help, private?” Steve asks after he explains who they are. “Is anyone hurt?”

Before answering, either to turn them away like everyone else or wave them in through the barricade, he looks over his shoulder. When he glances back at Steve again, he looks rather dismayed. Both Steve and Bucky know damn well that whatever he’s about to say, even if it’s virtually nothing, it’ll be against protocol. He’s supposed to be directing traffic away from the area. Not answering anything. 

“We’re not entirely sure,” he says. “We’ve just been told to clear the area. If I were you, I’d get home and get in touch with any officers you might still have an in with.”

That’s all he says on the matter before straightening back up again and waving them along like everyone else. It’s enough for Steve, though. If a soldier, trained not to divulge anything, gave them just that nugget of information, it means something big is about to happen. 

They follow the soldier’s advice as soon as they get home. Steve immediately tries calling his contacts. He starts with Peggy who confirms that something really is happening. 

“I don’t have the details yet,” she says. “But we’re mobilizing all over the country.”

On the television, Bucky’s turned on the news. There’s nothing out of the ordinary on it right now. The typical stories. The weather. Some crimes. Financial changes. Only a few reports about a possible rabies outbreak throughout a few major cities. 

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“Just that the CDC and WHO have been flooded with calls and reports about an outbreak of some unknown virus.” There are a lot of things happening on Peggy’s end and she lowers her voice. “Keep watching the news,” she says, “but they’re not getting the full report. I’ll call you when I have more information.”

The call goes dead then, and Peggy’s never ended a call so abruptly before. Even when in a rush, she always says her farewell. Just a simple, “Good bye, darling,” and a kissy noise. 

The way she hurried now, the stress and worry in her voice, it makes Steve’s stomach flatten. 

“What’d she say?” 

Bucky, who left the room to grab himself an apple, tosses one to Steve as he plops down on the couch. 

“Um…” Steve shakes his head. “I…”

The lack of response has Bucky paying closer attention to him now. The worry is clear on his face.

“What is it?” he asks. “Is it serious?”

“I…dunno. She couldn’t say.”

“Well…that doesn’t sound good.” He glances at the television. Just a story about a woman being found with multiple animal bites this afternoon in Connecticut. “Did you call Rhodey?”

“Um, no. I was about to do that now.”

Steve’s already scrolling through his contacts for the right one. When he gets to the right one, he hits send and lets it ring and ring and ring until he gets the voicemail. Normally, no one bothers with voicemails -- a simple text will suffice -- but things feel off enough that he does.

“H-hey, Rhodes, it’s Steve. I…um, just…call me. When you can.” 

But Rhodey doesn’t call back.

And he doesn’t answer when Steve tries again an hour later. Or when he calls again an hour after that. Or the three times after that. 

In fact, it’s a little after three in the morning when they hear from anyone. 

Both Steve and Bucky are asleep on the couch. They passed out together watching the news. Looking for anything that might clue them in to what’s happening. Nothing helped.

But the phone ringing startles Steve awake, and since Bucky’s lying on top of him, it jerks him awake as well. It takes Steve a moment to realize what’s happening and when he sees who’s calling, his eyes go wide.

“Rhodey?” he answers, hoping to keep the panic from his voice. “Rhodey, is that--”    

“Steve, I need you to listen to me and listen closely,” Rhodey says, hurried and low. “Do not interrupt. I can only say this once. Containment didn’t work. This thing is going to spread like a fucking brush fire. You and Bucky pack up bags right now, only what you need, and have them by the door. They’re gonna quarantine in quadrants first and when…if that fails, they’ll try to evacuate the cities. When that happens, just go. Do not wait. Whatever you do, do not let them bite you. I’ll be in touch if I can.” 

“Wait, wh…Rhodey…” 

“One more thing,” Rhodey says. “Go for the head.” 

The line goes dead then and Steve’s heart begins to pound. All that urgency, the god-awful fear in Rhodey’s voice, it makes Steve’s blood run cold. 

“Steve?” Bucky places a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What is it? What’d he say?”

Steve looks at the phone still clenched in his hand before flicking his gaze to meet Bucky’s. 

“He said,” Steve whispers, “we have to pack.” 

Week Two

There are two bags by the front door, packed and ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Just like Rhodey said, they’ve been quarantined in a four block radius since two days after they spoke. Steve hasn’t heard a word from either Rhodey or Peggy since. 

Martial law has been declared for two weeks now and the military is patrolling in full force. Always in riot gear. On foot or in tanks. Always armed. There’s a strict curfew being enforced. Each zone has been sectioned off with barbed wire blockades that are manned around the clock. There are snipers on every other rooftop. Sirens blare all day and night. 

Of course, people are coming up with their own reasons for what happened. Obviously, it has to be terrorism. The number one excuse for more racism. Even with absolutely no evidence to support their claims. 

Lots of theories have been floating around. Everything from bioterrorism to some sort of super bug to the start of World War Three. It’s hard to keep track of facts versus conspiracies since the internet keeps crashing. The phone lines keep going in and out as well. Steve doesn’t know if that’s being done in order to cut off communication or if it’s just a side effect of whatever’s happening. He assumes it’s the former and can only hope it’s the latter. 

Restrictions are even tighter come sundown. No exceptions. Nobody is even permitted to sit outside on their stoops or in their yards. Once the sun sets, everybody is ordered indoors. Helicopters pointing spotlights down over everything circle all night.

The news is only somewhat helpful and, Steve’s sure, being censored as well. Every hour on the hour there’s an emergency broadcast. All other stations are not in service. Steve keeps in mind what Peggy told him. To keep watching but to remember that they don’t have all the information.

And what little information they’ve been providing is sketchy at best. 

“This is Elizabeth Brandt.” Steve can hear the television from the kitchen where he’s making lunch for Bucky and himself. Canned soup. “Coming to you live to bring you this important news bulletin.” 

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky calls from the living room. “News is back on!”

“I’m coming,” Steve murmurs as he heads back into the living room where Bucky’s waiting on the couch. “Anything new?”

“Mm-mm.” Bucky gets up to offer Steve help. Takes one of the bowls. “Just something about the hospitals being filled to capacity.” 

Every news report that comes on has information scrolling at the bottom of the screen. Today, it’s about insurance rates expecting to spike over seventy-five percent in the next coming weeks. 

“We are receiving unconfirmed reports right now,” the newscaster says, “of seemingly random acts of violences and mass murder that have occurred in some major cities. We will continue to bring you live updates as this story unfolds.” 

“Jesus,” Bucky whispers. “Mass murder? How did we go from rabies to mass murder?” 

“People are scared,” Steve offers. “They might be panicking.”

“The violence I can understand. I mean, I’m fucking scared and we have a little more information.” A tremble flies up Steve’s spine. That’s the first time Bucky’s said anything about being scared. At least Steve’s not the only one. “But mass murder? People being violent because they’re scared and mass murder are two different things. Don’t you think?”  

Steve, taking a spoonful of soup and burning his tongue in the process, nods. He knows Bucky’s right, but despite his fear and worry, he’s still trying to stay positive. 

“It’s the media,” Steve says. “Maybe they’re exaggerating.” 

The look Bucky gives him, slightly amused but also doubtful, makes Steve smile. He knows that Bucky knows he’s just reaching for answers or excuses. 

“You’re adorable, Rogers,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I hope you know that.”

Steve chuckles. “Why?”

Head against Steve’s shoulder, Bucky uses his free hand to caress Steve’s thigh. 

“Because even during the apocalypse you look for the bright side.” Bucky hums softly. “I love you for that.”

“Well, I think that’s a compliment, so I’ll take it.” Steve grins softly. “And I love you, too.”

If anyone could make Steve smile during this, it’d be Bucky. At least they have each other. 

Week Three

The only time either Steve or Bucky sleep in their bed anymore is when they take quick naps during the day. When at least one of them is awake. Always ready to watch the news when the television comes back on the air. If it’s not, there’s just a Please Stand By screen. Sometimes colorbars and a high-pitched ringing. 

At night, they sleep on the couch together. When they can both sleep. Which is not that often.

Right now, Bucky is sleeping with his head in Steve’s lap. Steve has been dozing a little, but he can’t fall into a deep slumber. Not with Bucky out like a light. He deserves some sleep and Steve enjoys this little moment of peace when he can just run his hair over Bucky’s head and pretend like nothing else is happening in the world.

Steve’s actually nodding off a bit when Elizabeth Brandt is on the screen again. 

“Good evening,” she says, “for those of you who are just tuning in…” Steve wonders if she really needs to say that every time they come back on. He can’t imagine there’s anyone who isn’t at least paying a little attention. “We are going to try to remain on the air for the remainder of this crisis.”

Across the screen, as usual, are mini-stories scrolling by. Steve tries to follow along as they do.

A family of five has been found dead in Jacksonville, Florida. Police have described the victims as having been…”torn apart” by their attackers. 

“There have been wide-spread attacks,” Ms. Brandt continues, “all across the country, by what are being described “rabid people” in a “trance-like state”. 

Military forces have deployed to every major city to cope with the drastic increase in crime and violence. 

“Now, whatever this is, the phenomenon does not appear to be limited to the United States. We’re receiving reports of similar cases coming in from cities all around the world. We still have no specific answers as to why this is happening. Reports range from a germ or a virus with a mind altering effect or possibly some sort of chemical spill causing or a behavioral disorder causing mass hysteria.”

Over a dozen bodies have been found in what police are calling a ‘mass grave’ were found with severe ‘bite marks’ in various parts of the body.

“The president has issued a statement urging all people to stay in their homes and lock their doors until the situation is handled.”

The station reverts back to the stand-by screen and Steve’s stomach hurts. He’s somehow both too hot and too cold at the same time. He briefly considers waking Bucky to tell him these updates, but decides against it. 

“Sleep, my love,” he whispers. “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Bucky shifts a bit, his nose wiggling and fingers scratching at something on his cheek. 

Steve smiles and then checks his phone. All the unanswered messages. He hasn’t heard from Peggy or Rhodey in almost two weeks and what he did get was a few words at most. 

Reminders to be ready. 

To be alert.

Pay attention. 

Sighing, Steve puts the phone down and rests his head on the back of the couch, hoping to get a little rest.

Week Four

Steve jerks awake to a high-pitched ringing. Sun is streaming in through the bedroom windows, the curtains pushed open. It takes him a few moments to realize what the noise is and that he’s actually slept through the night. 

Steve flings the blankets away and hurries out of the bedroom to see Bucky seated at the very edge of the couch just staring at the television. There’s no one there. It’s just a message. A message from the Emergency Broadcast System. And it says nothing about this being just a test. 

We interrupt our program at the request of local authorities. This is the Emergency Broadcast System. All normal broadcasting has been discontinued during this emergency. This station will continue broadcasting, furnishing news, official information and instructions, as soon as possible for the Extended Operational area. 

As Steve approaches the couch, he notices that Bucky’s breaths are hitched. He’s chewing on his nails -- an old nervous habit of his -- and bouncing his knee. There’s a tear rolling down his cheek. 

When Steve slips a hand over Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky gasps and spins his way. He clearly tries to wipe those tears away before Steve cans them and fakes a smile.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“N-no. You didn’t. I just…” Bucky shakes his head and huffs a chuckle. “I just didn’t hear you.” 

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.” 

Steve nearly topples over at that. He had no idea how late it was. He hasn’t slept that much in weeks. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Bucky offers a soft grin. This one, Steve believes, is genuine, and that gives him a sense of peace, however small. 

“Why don’t you ever wake me?” he asks. “Probably for the same reason.” 

Nodding, because Steve can’t really argue with that logic, he comes around to sit with Bucky. As soon as he sits, Bucky scoots a little closer. Steve takes his hand. Bucky squeezes. 

“What’s happened?” Steve asks. “Something new?”

“No. They went out about an hour ago.” He gestures to the television. “It’s been like that since.”

Both their cellphones are on the coffee table. Steve reaches for his but figures he already knows the answer to this one.

“They’re still out, too,” Bucky says as Steve clears his screen. They’ve been keeping them charged, of course. Just in case. But the cell service has been out since last week. “Internet, too.”

The no service icon on Steve’s phone still gives him chills. The last time he spoke to someone on it was two weeks ago. When Rhodey called to say that things are going downhill. 

That’s when Steve agreed to take out their weapons. While both he and Bucky agree that gun control needs to be better enforced, they’re still armed. A leftover effect from combat, maybe. The need to feel protected and able to protect each other. 

They don’t have a militia worth of weapons or anything. Just the standard, really. Things for survival. Dehydrated food. Bottled water. First Aid kits. Really, the two of them can survive for a few months completely off the grid. It’s just that…well, they don’t really want to. 

“Hey,” Steve whispers when Bucky starts staring at the television again. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” When Steve covers the top of Bucky’s hand with his, Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “I’m, uh…I’m starting to get really scared.” 

“I know.” Steve nods. “So am I.”

“I don’t fuckin’ like this, Steve. They fucking roll up in their armored cars and tanks and start patrolling the streets, claiming it’s for our safety, but they won’t tell us what’s wrong. No wonder people are pissed.” 

Pissed is actually a kind way of putting it. More like fucking infuriated. And, honestly, Steve can’t blame people. He’s not exactly overly thrilled that the government, here in this country and clearly in others around the world, are not telling them anything. 

Instead, they just send the freaking military into civilian areas and expect everyone to fall in line. 

In fact, when Steve lets himself think about it, he’s fucking infuriated as well. If not for having friends in high places, the two of them probably would have split from here a while ago. Possibly when this first started.

It’s too late for that, though. 

There’s no way they can get over the bridges to get to the mainland and it’s not as though mass transit is still running. Hell, there isn’t even any cell service or internet. There’s been rolling blackouts and the news keeps going out, but, they’re still expected to just sit in their homes and wait to be told it’s all clear. 

Steve has no idea how the fuck they’re expected to trust in…shit, he’s not even sure who anymore. 

Week Five

“Widespread panic continues across the country.” Elizabeth Brandt no longer wears make-up. Her hair isn’t done. Every now and then there’s a tremble in her voice. “Many communities are without telephone. Most without power. Some without water.”

Steve wrings his hands together. They still have some power left but it comes in and out. Right now, the only light they have is that of the T.V. Nighttime, they’ve been instructed to keep the lights off and the shades drawn. They haven’t had any way to contact anyone for over a week now. Water went off yesterday. 

“Scientists at the CDC have released the following statement,” she says. “This virus is passed through bodily fluid such as blood and saliva. It is most often passed through bites but can be contracted if contaminated blood is absorbed into the body.”

“What the hell?” Bucky breathes, leaning forward and resting his arms over his knees. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Hand on Bucky’s back, Steve rubs it in soft circles trying to offer whatever comfort he can. Hard, that, when he’s just as confused and concerned and afraid.

“The infected exhibit rabid-like symptoms within five to thirty minutes of infection including skin inflammation, flu-like symptoms such a headache, violent coughing, and sore throats, and nausea and vomiting. At two hours, mild paralysis sets in leading to locking of the joints but does not lead to immobility. Finally, severe confusion and aggression.”  Ms. Brandt pauses before she continues. “We have some…some footage here of some people who have contracted the virus but we must advise you this may be difficult to watch.”

On the screen now is video footage clearly taken on a cellphone. Somewhere in Europe, Steve thinks, based on the license plates. When they hear people start talking, rushed and panicked, Bucky murmurs that they’re speaking Romanian. 

A moment later, screaming. Running. Gunshots. Sheer chaos and pandemonium. Only Steve can’t see what they’re running from. The phone’s camera is shaking violently as its owner runs.

Until a person next to them tumbles and falls to the ground. Whoever’s filming stops to try to help and drops the phone in the process. But the camera is still rolling. 

And within seconds, someone…or something comes into view. 

A man, or at least what used to be a man. His head is bent nearly all the way to the left and his jaw is clearly broken. He’s dragging his right leg but that doesn’t seem to impede his speed. His right arm is twisted and locked against the side of his body. There’s blood everywhere. Around his mouth. Dripping from his eyes and nose and ears. He lunges for one of the two people there. They both scream.

The video ends there.

When the screen goes back to Elizabeth Brandt, she’s staring blankly. Not at the camera. Just staring out at nothing. Trembling. Until someone off-camera clears their throat. 

Her gaze slowly lifts and focuses back on the camera facing her. She sucks in a deep breath and nods.

“The military is mobilizing,” she murmurs, very quiet. Little emotion other than the fear that’s permeating through this living room, “in an attempt to evacuate all major cities.” Ms. Brandt’s breath staggers. “We’re providing a list of rescue stations.” Scrolling on the bottom of the screen. “Please, make your way to the rescue station closest to you. If you are watching this broadcast at this time, please, get to a rescue station immediately.”

The screen starts cutting in and out, and Ms. Brandt is still speaking when it cuts off completely and goes dead. Colorbars with a high-pitched ringing is all that’s left.

“Steve…” Bucky whispers. “Did you…did you…this can’t be happening.”

All Steve can think about is Rhodey’s first call to him. 

They’ll try to evacuate the cities, he’d said. When that happens, don’t wait. Go.  

“We have to go.” 

Steve is already on his feet. First thing he does is grab two of their handguns. Both loaded. The only time Steve’s ever considered bringing a gun outside is when they go to the gun range and they’re always stored in locked cases. 

“Where are we going, Steve?” Bucky asks. “It cut out before the list even reached Brooklyn.” 

“I don’t care,” Steve replies, shoving one of the guns into Bucky’s hands. “But we need to get out of here. We’ll figure it out.” 

Bucky doesn’t question any more than that. Seems he’s already caught up with Steve’s thinking and wants to get the fuck out of there as much as he does. Even more so when they hear gunshots from not all that far away. 

They both freeze on the way to the door and stare at each other for a second. They’re leaving everything behind, Steve knows that. The bags they packed a few weeks ago are useless now. 

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve says and pulls him in for a kiss. “We’re gonna get through this.” 

Strange and horrifying as all this is, Bucky still manages a smile and grabs Steve’s hand. Tight. Unwilling to let go.

“I know.” He nods and adds his own kiss. “I love you, too.”

Steve takes one last, long look at Bucky before he wretches open the door and they dash outside. 

It’s already chaotic. People are doing the same as them. Running. With no sense of direction, they just fucking run. Steve runs with Bucky’s hand still tucked securely in his. 

The military there is trying to give out instructions. No one’s listening, of course, and even if Steve wanted to, he can’t understand them anyway. 

There are people everywhere. Parents carrying children. Lovers clinging to each other. Friends desperate to help each other. Some people trip and fall, and Steve and Bucky do what they can to help them back to their feet. Others aren’t so lucky and are trampled. 

Horns are blasting and metal twists around metal and glass shatters. There’re fires. More gunshots. Looting. 

They’ve only gone a few blocks when the screaming changes. The panic shifts to outright horror and fear. One glance over his shoulder confirms Steve’s worst fears.

They’re being chased by the infected. Several of them. Lots of them. So many… 

“Where the fuck did they come from?!” Bucky shouts as he pulls out his gun. “They’re everywhere.” 

Behind them, there’s snarling and growling. Squelching sounds and crunching bones. 

Steve is suddenly very aware of the sound of his own breathing. It’s all he can hear over the screams and cries for help. His heart is pounding like it’s never done. 

This is all wrong. 

Nothing makes sense.

These people need his help and he’s just running. That’s not what he does. That’s not what either of them do. But Steve doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to help these people. To save them. All he can do is run until his legs feel like jelly and his chest hurts and his head is spinning. 

They get a bit of luck when they have a chance to duck into an alleyway that’s not far from a school. The list that had the rescue spots listed a lot of schools and churches in the other boros. Can’t be too different for them. 

When they reach the end of the alley, there’s a fence that they need to climb over. A few people, not infected from what Steve can tell, have followed. Them, Steve helps as best he can by assisting them up and over the fence. 

Bucky, already on the other side of the fence, helps them over and down. Some of these people seem to know each other. Possibly a family. Three children. Four adults. 

They say something about trying to get to the rendezvous point. That they’re evacuating people in trucks and buses and vans not that far from here. 

One of the adults climbs over the fence and runs without waiting for anyone else. Steve hopes that means they’re not associated with the rest of them. Another climbs over and waits as Steve and the other two help the three children. 

They’ve just made it over, Bucky helping the last one and handing her off to the person next to him, when his eyes go wide.

“Steve…” He’s gone very rigid, staring at something behind Steve. “Hurry.”

Steve glances over his shoulder. Sees what Bucky does. Three people. Growling. Drooling. Their bodies all contorted, and bones cracking when they take a few steps in Steve’s direction. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes and then whirls back to the last person on this side of the fence with him. He grabs him and shoves him at the fence. “Go! Go, now! Hurry!” 

“Steve!” Bucky yells. “Steve, hurry! Come on, please!”

In his rush, Steve slips a time or two as he clambers to the top of the fence. The entire thing shakes and trembles. The young man next to him nearly loses his grip and falls. Steve grabs him by the wrist and keeps a hand on his back to help him.

“God damn it, Steve!” Bucky shouts. “Come on! You need to run!”

They’re at the fence now. Grabbing at Steve and his companions legs. Tearing at their clothes. Trying to pull them back down. 

When Steve makes it to the top, he swings one leg over, and just as he goes to bring the other, a sharp, unimaginable pain radiates at his ankle and shoots up his entire leg. He screams as he jerks his knee up and grabs his ankle. 

The pain is so agonizing that Steve lets go of the fence and falls the rest of the way, landing with a hard thud on the concrete. Something might break, he isn’t sure. It’s the pain in his ankle that has his attention. 

“Steve!” Bucky is at his side the second he hits the ground. “Steve, what happened? Are you all right? Can you get--oh fuck.”

Steve snaps his gaze back to the fence. Where the infected are climbing up it. To make matters worse, there are three coming into this side of the alley on the other end.

“Bucky…” Steve pants and coughs. His ankle throbs and that fall knocked the wind out of him. “Get the…the kids…” 

They’re all trapped. If they’re going to get the rest of these people out of here, Steve knows what needs to be done. He and Bucky need to separate. 

Gun at the ready, Bucky nods and shoots back up to his feet, stepping in front of the group of people with his weapon aimed. Steve reaches into his holster and pulls out his own gun. 

They start shooting. 

Steve knows he hits them. One in the arm. One in the leg. One in the chest. But they keep coming. He fires again. Foot. Shoulder. Back. And they still keep coming. 

“The heads!” Bucky suddenly yells. “Steve, go for their heads!” 

Vision blurry and ears ringing, Steve takes several shots before finally getting one in the head. He manages to get another but the third, right before she’d lunge at Steve, is taken down by Bucky. She falls in a heap right next to Steve. 

Once again, Bucky drops by his side. At the same time, he’s waving at the rest of the people there to run. They do, but not before thanking them. 

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky says. “You gotta get up.” 

That fall did a lot more to him than Steve realized. It shouldn’t be all that surprising. He just fell at least ten feet. His head hurting isn’t very shocking. The sore throat is a little unusual, but Steve figures that’s from all the screaming. 

Still, he’s so dazed and disoriented, that when Bucky once again tries to pull him back to his feet, he tries to push him off.

“Just go,” Steve grunts, “get outta here.”

“No,” Bucky growls between his teeth. “Not without you. Now c’mon, Steve. Get. The fuck. Up. Now.” 

If they weren’t in the middle of a zombie-like apocalypse, Steve would laugh. That tone, it’s not one to be reckoned with. 

Steve nods and accepts Bucky’s help as he brings him back to his feet. The strain makes Steve grunt and he teeters a bit off balance. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks. “You with me?”

“Always.”

Even in the midst of a waking, walking nightmare, Bucky scoffs a laugh and, fuck, that smile is worth walking through fire for. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Rogers.”

Steve is limping a bit, but after just half a block, he’s able to at least sprint without needing to lean all of his weight against Bucky. 

The coughing starts a few minutes later. Uncontrollable fits that have Steve doubled over. His head hurts so bad that he almost wants to bash it against a wall. 

That fucking fall. He’s taken hits worse than that, he’s sure of it, yet one tiny fall off a tall fence has him ready to keel over. He can’t, though. He needs to suck it up and keep running to get Bucky out of here. 

“Steve?” Bucky asks when Steve is bent over coughing again. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods and tries to straighten again. “I think…I think I broke a rib or something.” 

“Okay. Okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Bucky assures him. “We’re not far now. When we get there, they’ll help you.”

Spitting some blood from his mouth, Steve wipes his arm across his and clears his throat, wincing from the pain of it. He exhales sharply and then lets Bucky wrap his arm around his waist to assist him again. 

Only this time, when Steve takes a step with his right foot, white light flashes in front of his eyes and he shrieks as his weight falls out from under him.

“Steve!” Bucky goes down with him. “What is it? What happened?”

Steve shivers from head to toe. It’s too hot out. He has no idea when it got so freaking hot out. It’s only April for god’s sake. 

“Stevie…” 

Steve can just make out Bucky’s voice through clogged ears. Then it disappears altogether and all Steve can see is Bucky’s lips moving. It’s hard to make out what he’s saying, but Steve can venture a guess. So he nods, assuming Bucky’s asking if he’s all right, and lets Bucky help him back up. 

“Come on, baby, we’re almost there.”

Bucky’s right. 

They’re not far. 

Just another two blocks sees them at the blockade. There are swarms of people being ushered in a few groups at a time. 

As Bucky leads Steve there so they can wait their turn, Steve takes a glimpse down at his ankle. It’s covered in blood. He knows it’s his. It’s seeped into his jeans and down into his sock. That's why, he realizes, his foot squishes every time he walks. That’s why it hurts when he walks. That’s why… 

Eyes filling with tears, Steve coughs again, his breaths shuddering. Bucky readjusts his grip on him. Helps him as best he can because that’s what they do. They help each other. They save each other. They love each other. 

Steve just watches him now. His Bucky. His best friend. The man he’s loved since they were a couple of punk kids running around the streets of Brooklyn. Life had taken them in different directions after middle school but they still found their way back to each other. 

“What?” Bucky asks when he notices Steve staring at him. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit?”

“No.” A sense of peace and calm washes over Steve. “I just love you.” 

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Hard to smile with all this, but it’s almost there. 

“I love you, too, Steve.” 

Steve coughs more. His throat is on fire. His stomach turns, nausea creeping through. 

When they finally reach the entrance through the barricade, Steve hands Bucky his gun just as he walks through. 

“Steve, what’re you doing?”

“Take it,” Steve whispers. “You’ll need all the protection you can get.”

“I have my own,” Bucky says. “You need it.”

Steve shakes his head and ignores the officers trying to move them along. 

“Just take it. And go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Come on, Steve! Don’t fuck around!”

Those tears almost get the better of Steve, but he manages to hold them back. For now. 

He looks down at his ankle and lifts up the bottom of his jeans. Shows Bucky what Steve already knows is there. 

A bite.

A big chunk of his skin all red and black and blue and swollen. 

It pulses. Throbs. It’s almost unbearable.

“No…” Bucky whimpers. “No, no, no. We can…you’re gonna be fine. You…”

“Go, Bucky.”

“No! No, I’m not leaving you!” Abruptly frantic, like he can’t figure out what’s happening or what to do, Bucky starts to shake all over. “No. No, I’m staying. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you!”

The tears finally break through, mirroring those rolling down Bucky’s cheeks. But Steve won’t give in. He won’t be selfish. He’ll save Bucky. Even if that means taking himself out of the picture. 

“I’m bitten,” Steve says to the soldiers there. “Take him out of here.”  

They don’t wait.

Steve’s actually surprised he and Bucky got this last bit of time together. That doesn’t stop Bucky from screaming. From struggling with all his might against the soldiers dragging him away. 

“No! No, Steve! Steve, please! God, no! No, this can’t…you can’t leave me! You can’t!”

Bucky’s reaching over the soldiers. Trying desperately to get back to Steve. Even for just one last touch. 

And Steve is selfish enough for that.

He reaches once.

Their fingers graze.

Stomach lurching just as they load Bucky in the back of a military truck and it drives away, taking Steve’s whole life with it, Steve claps a hand over his mouth and pushes out of the crowd. Right at the fringe of it, he leans over to be ill. 

Steve doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him now, but he does know that he’s going to be a danger to all these people soon. No matter how much it hurts -- and it does, inside and out, like a red-hot poker shoved between his ribs -- he pushes onward. Gets himself out of there. As far away as possible before his legs give out from under him and he collapses in a gutter not far from where he and Bucky met. 

Week ???

The sun beats down on the empty city streets. Sizzles and burns Steve’s skin. He knows it is happening. Feels it happening. Can do nothing about it. 

He cannot remember how. 

Sometimes, he cannot even remember his own name. He knows he has one. Or did have one. It is not that important. 

The ankle that was bit still throbs. It always does. Now, that foot is all twisted. He can’t really bend his right knee and his right arm is clenched to his chest. He has been unable to move it for the longest time. 

Sometimes Steve sees people. Real people. The way he used to be. If they see him, they scream and run. If they have weapons, they try to kill him. 

He wants to tell them that he does not want to hurt them. And that much is true. Steve doesn’t want to hurt them. But he will. He can’t stop it. The guilt is overwhelming, the screams of the people he has hunted down echoing through his ears. 

He is just so very hungry. Always hungry. Or maybe he is thirsty. His tongue and mouth and throat are on fire. The taste of iron has not left his mouth since the first meal he had. 

The only other thing he wants to do is sleep. Nothing ever stops, though. Steve can’t sleep. All he ever does is wander. 

There is a building he passes from time to time that feels right. Familiar. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there’s a word for it. It sits at the tip of his tongue. Not that it matters. He cannot speak anything more than grunts and moans and growls. 

That’s because of the pain. So much pain that ravages through his entire body, day and night. 

Steve can’t stop crying. It is different now. He doesn’t think he is doing it right, but he still cries. Wordless and soundless. 

Maybe he has lost something. It feels like that. Very much so. Like he is looking for someone. Someone that left him here. Right? Or…no, that is not right. The others did. They left Steve and the rest of the Wanders to rot. 

Things do not make sense so much anymore. They haven’t in a long time. 

He hates them. Steve doesn’t know who but he does and he wants to hurt them until they feel as much pain as he does. If he gets the chance he’ll bite into their flesh and tear into through skin and gnaw down to their bones just to hear their screams.  

No.

No, no, no, no, no…no.

Why does he want that?

Steve can’t remember. 

If he finds them…them…him…then maybe it will be better. The pain won’t go away but that smile. Yes, that smile. 

Bucky.

The name pulses through him and for one single second, Steve’s existence makes sense again. That second passes quickly. 

Something is behind him. Steve can hear it. Smell it. Fresh meat. Warm. Alive. 

Head stuck tilted to the right, Steve turns, his bones creaking and cracking along with the movements. The living. Three of them. From the smell of them, two males and one female. 

Steve is hungry. It does not matter that they carry weapons, Steve will try to get food. He opens his mouth. Jaw popping, drool leaking over his teeth. Steve hisses. Tries to warn them. Threaten them. Demand they do not move so he can have his meal. 

“I hate it when they make that noise,” one of the males says. “Fucking creepy.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Sam,” the female answers, “you’re not losing your nerve, are you?” 

Steve runs toward them now. If they do not shoot him first and set him free, he will catch them and he will eat them and for just a few moments he will not be hungry. 

“No, Nat, not losing my nerve,” Sam says. “Doesn’t stop that noise from being any less creepy.” 

“Yeah.” Nat nods. “I’ll give you that.”

“Stark, what’re you waiting for?” Sam asks the second male. “You wanna be his happy meal?”

“Not today,” Stark replies and Steve is only a few steps away when he raises his weapon and it discharges. 

Hits him in the chest. Steve does not stop. A puny weapon as that will not come between him and his food. Except when a new pain spreads from that spot and sparks throughout his entire body, Steve drops to his knees and gasps for air. 

They have hurt him more. More pain. 

So much more pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“All right,” Stark says when Steve falls forward, unable to move. “Tag ‘im and bag ‘im.”

Nat crouches down in front of Steve and turns his head so that he’s facing her. She lifts his eyelid up and clicks her tongue. 

“You’re right, Stark,” she says. “He’s one of the firsts.”

Sam comes close. Take a good look as well. Must agree because he nods but why will they not kill Steve? It will be better for them…for him… 

“Eyes are totally bloodshot,” Sam says. “Poor guy.”

“Well, let’s get ‘im back to the lab,” Stark tells them. “Bruce and Helen will wanna have a look.” 

A lab.

Steve cannot remember this word but it makes his insides feel wrong. Afraid. Maybe that is it. 

***

Steve feels quite weightless. 

Floaty.

No, not floaty. Actually floating. 

Perhaps that means he’s finally died. If that’s that case, he’s not sure if he’d feel this good. After everything he’s done as a Wanderer, he deserves damnation, not salvation. 

There should be no reward. No easing of his pain. And this dull ache in the back of his head, the heat in his throat, and the aches in his body is the most relief he’s had since…well, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

Although, if by some miracle, he’s been let into an eternal paradise, maybe that means he’ll reunite with Bucky someday. 

Oh. 

Oh, his Bucky.

A tremble flies up his spine. 

The last time Steve saw Bucky, he was crying and scared and screaming for him. He could still feel the spot where their fingers last touched. 

But it was the right thing to do, it was. If Bucky had stayed with him, he’d’ve died. All this guilt topped with the idea of taking Bucky’s life as well? No, Steve couldn’t handle that. 

It occurs to Steve then that he hasn’t fully been able to recall Bucky in quite some time. Now, he’s all Steve can think about. 

The pain in his ankle feels so much better. 

His head isn’t tilted. 

His arm isn’t pinned against his chest. 

Steve finally gains enough coherency to open his eyes. When he does, he gasps and thrashes about. 

He’s submerged in water. In a vertical tube. There are wires hooked to his naked body and tubes in his mouth and nose. Steve bangs on the glass. He can breathe and he can hear but he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on and he needs to get out of this thing.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, it’s okay!” 

Someone’s voice comes through the thick water and Steve turns that way. He doesn’t know this person but he recognizes him. The man who shot him. With someone. Not a bullet. 

Now that Steve’s thinking a bit clearer, he thinks it may have been some type of taser. 

“My name is Tony,” he says, pushing closer to Steve on a wheelie chair. “Tony Stark. You’re gonna be okay now.”

Too busy trying to figure out what’s happening and how he got here, Steve looks around at all he can see. It’s a lab, just like they said. They must’ve brought him back here. Brought him…back.

“I know, you’re probably confused, that’s normal,” Tony explains. “The process is a bit disorienting. Is this getting through? Can you nod or something, big guy?”

Tony, Steve realizes, is asking him a question. He’s actually talking to him. Not running and screaming, but talking. Steve can’t talk with the tubs in his mouth so he nods. 

“Good, good. Here, I’m gonna pull up a virtual keyboard.” Whatever he does out there makes letters appear on the glass in front of Steve. “Can you type your name in?” 

Steve might be achy but he’d also be fucking thrilled to do this. He lifts the arm he hasn’t controlled in so long and types his name.

S-T-E-V-E 

R-O-G-E-R-S

When Steve sees his name displayed on the screen, he smiles. For so long, he couldn’t even be sure if that’s who he was and now he knows. He’s him. He’s Steve Rogers. 

But Tony just blinks at the name a few times. His mouth opens not once, but twice before he finally answers. 

“Steve Rogers?” He says that as if he’s familiar with it. “You…do you know a Bucky Barnes?”

Eyes going wide, Steve would gasp if he wasn’t breathing through a tube and underwater. This guy knows Bucky. He’ll be able to tell Steve if he’s okay. If he’s near. If he’s safe. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” Tony mumbles. “Well…shit. He was right. You were too stubborn to die.” He snickers before pushing back over to the lab table he’d been at before Steve started banging on the tube. He picks up the phone and only dials one digit. “Hey, I need you two to bring Barnes down.”

Bring him down. That means Bucky’s here. Oh, god, please, please let this be real. 

“Uh…let’s just say he’s been right this whole time,” Tony says. “He always said he was still out there.” 

Tony continues with a brief conversation with whoever’s on the phone but Steve doesn’t pay any attention. All he cares about is the fact that Bucky is here. Bucky’s here and they’re bringing him to see Steve. 

While he waits, Tony explains a bit of what’s happened and why Steve is in this thing. It’s a bit hard to follow along; not everything is entirely clear yet and Steve’s mind is still a little fuzzy. 

Apparently, the weightless environment helps the Wanderers’ limbs to unlock. That, combined with the antibodies speeds up the recovery process. The recovery process that Bucky’s been helping with.

According to Tony, Bucky’s part of some vigilante group. A group that rallied together to go out and look for survivors. Killing Wanderers when they needed. When they could.

“It was your man who thought he saw something in one of them one day,” Tony says. “Saw…what could be. And instead of killing…”  

They started bringing Wanderers back to the lab. To their base of operations. Found something of a cure. 

“You’ll probably have to stay in there for another forty-eight hours or so and then go through a ton of physical therapy, but, based on our other subjects, you should make a--”

The door swings open, and without even pausing to check the room, Bucky comes running in and right up to the tube where Steve is. 

“Steve!” There’re tears streaming down his face. “Oh, god, baby, I knew it. I knew you’d be alive. I did. I told you. I told you, you’d be okay. Oh, fuck, baby, I miss you so much. I love you. I love you, Steve.”

Steve still isn’t entirely sure if this is really happening. It feels real. Maybe not what he deserves but…if he’s allowed a few moments of peace, he’ll gladly accept it. 

If it is real, well, they did it again. Somehow, against all odds, they found their way back to each other. 

He smiles around the tubes in his mouth and traces a heart along the glass. Still crying, Bucky lets loose a wet laugh and traces a heart over it. 

It’s the last thing Steve sees before his eyes close again.

He’s tired. 

He’d very much like to sleep. 

And maybe dream.