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vxsellie · 10 days ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚. GHOSTS OF SACRILEGE !

synopsis. fbi agent!ellie williams x nun!reader ; it's truly no shock that the entirety of west virginia is emerged by trepidation, considering hundreds of residents have gone missing within the past three months. as a form of consolation for those fearful, an esteemed fbi agent is sent to investigate. what she finds, however, is more than she could ever have expected.

notes. this piece is part of the mythologica challenge! i tried my absolute hardest to do the theme justice bc of how good it is. also pls note that every town mentioned is real & i did a decent amount of research on each one, but that doesn't at all mean that it's entirely accurate. i've been to some of the places, but not all also ! this is my first time ever writing detailed smut so i literally know none of the correct words to use or how to describe what's happening & it might turn out being literal dog shit,, if that's the case i apologize!

warnings. religious horror, an attempt at writing smut, angst, plot twists, horrible world building, major character death x2, possessive / obsessive romance, descriptive gore, blood, satanic rituals, human sacrifice, blood, oral (r! receiving), brief mentions of abuse & assault, murder as a metaphor, past animal death, long exposition i'm sorry, and - last but most important - the sweet release of desecrating salvation.

wc. 9.5k+

𝓝aught but unease filled the tiny town of bluefeild as yet another missing person is found to be reported in the newspaper. the sun begins to peer over the horizon, long shadows cast against the sidewalk that newsboys toss the papers from. they ride their bikes down the concrete with a fervor that should be rare. but it’s been rather common in bluefeild as of late. every since december. ever since the incidents first began.

nobody in town can be seen outside without a frantic expression and a fast pace. fear fuels their every step as they scurry outside to retrieve the news before burrowing back into the safety of their homes, hungry eyes skimming the article in search of who’s gone missing this time.

ellie hadn't expected much when traveling here. a small town of worrisome locals, a serial kidnapper hiding in plain sight. y'know, the usual for cases like these.

but something about this case stands out to her. there's a certain weight in her chest as each day passes without answers. in the beginning, she'd asked around town, hoping to find some common denominator among everyone's weariness. but there's nothing. the residents are closed off, thick boots and even thicker country drawls quick to kick the agent off their rotting porch at first glance. she's been here for a while now, not a single clue made evident. no loose ends, no muddy footprints, no witnesses. it's like these people just disappear into thin air.

ellie sits in her idled car, eyes scanning today's newspaper for slips of information. she can't help the way her interest piques, slowly going mad with lack of elucidation. she runs a hand through her hair, shoulders weighed with fatigue and dwindling hope.

see, over two-hundred people have gone missing in the past three months ⎯ which is a big deal in and of itself, but even more so considering bluefeild's population is well under five thousand.

her windows fog as rain patters gently against the steel of her vehicle, the whether cold and dreary in comparison to her car's heated temperature. she supposes it fits the mood, though, doesn't it?

after twenty minutes of analyzing each and every word given, ellie groans and stuffs the newspaper into her glove box, slamming it shut. evidently, the paper provided nothing of use to her. it has a picture of the man missing, his name inscribed under the image, and a few words of grief are quoted to have been said by the families. but that's it.

as of this morning, jason casey has been added to the long list of missing persons. and not a soul could say why nor how.

ellie pulls her phone from her coat pocket, clicking on her bosses contact before wedging it between her ear and shoulder. she listens to it ring as she puts her car into gear, pulling out of the parking space she'd been occupying. it's not like anyone here would dare to use their cars anyhow. most shops and businesses have been temporarily closed, owners fearing the possibility of suffering the same fate as those prior.

"ellie?" joel's voice comes through the tiny speakers, papers rustling in the background of the call as he speaks. "what're you callin' me for? i thought you were on the bluefeild case."

"there's nothin' to go off of." she tells him. one hand is rested on the wheel whilst the other holds her phone.

"you're our best investigator, williams, i'm sure you'll find somethin'." he says offhandedly, continuing to shuffle through whatever papers are of more interest to him than his alleged best employee.

she rolls her eyes at his dismissive tone. "hundreds are missing, joel. without a trace or a sign left behind. they're likely dead, if i were to guess. i don't— what the hell good does that do?"

"find the bodies." he says easily. "their corpses might point to their killer."

"no shit." ellie scoffs. "the issue isn't what to do next, it's how the fuck i'm supposed to do it. this has been goin' on for months and no bodies have turned up. where am i even supposed to look? like i said, there ain't a damn thing left behind."

she coasts down the streets of bluefeild, using this time to feel the layout of it and examine what she's working with. she's been here for a while now, but the town remains a mystery to her. and, from what she's seen, it's a bit of a mystery to everyone else as well.

she notices that many of the homes are old and shabby, paint flaking and wood rotting. in the yards, however, almost every resident has some form of a religious symbol. a cross, a statue of mary, a flag for something biblical. anything to show their faith.

to each their own, i guess. she thinks to herself with a shrug before turning her attention elsewhere.

the streets are empty, as expected. a few street lights are on, the yellow illumination flicking with worn age. even on the two-lane roads, there's not a car in sight. she narrows her eyes at this, a shiver tracing up her spine at the disturbing vastness.

"well," joel says, "search the papers some more."

"i've done that a thousand fuckin' times." ellie groans, eyes still scanning her surroundings with intent of committing it all to memory. just in case. "there's nothin' there. it's just all information on the missing people, half-assed sympathy for the victim's family, and a picture of 'em."

joel sighs, the sound of tapping resonating through the phone. ellie recognizes the sound, having worked for joel long enough to know that he always taps a pencil against his desk when he's thinking. it's a good sign, she thinks. it means he's at least giving her predicament some thought.

she's been in bluefeild for eight days now, spending her time interrogating random residents for informations; spending her nights rereading the stupid fucking newspapers. naught good has been of ramification.

the repetition of it all is driving her insane, especially considering none of her efforts have yet to pay off in any sort of way. she'd hoped that when the next person showed up missing, something would present itself. a clue would rear its ugly head at her and she'd grab it by the throat with fervor. but no. jason casey went missing and all heads remain hidden. so, after an hour of battling with her pride, she decided to make the call to joel and admit her being stuck.

"okay." he says, shuffling a bit as he finally gives ellie his full attention. "okay, pull over for a second, i'm gonna need you to do somethin' for me."

she instantly obliges, pulling off to the nearest backroad. gravel crunches under her tires as she drives along the thin path wedged between two decrepit buildings. the alley is small and a bit sketchy, but that's exactly what she needs. ellie puts her car in park, windows translucent in their heavily fogged blanket.

"how many newspapers do you have on you?" joel asks when he hears her car go into idle.

"um," she reaches over and opens her glove box, watching as yellowed papers fall from the newly opened door. they flutter to the floor and atop the passenger's seat. she hums, amused at the sight of her obsession making a tangible image in her head. "a lot."

"okay, good. perfect." joel mutters, the clacking of a keyboard sounding through the tiny speaker. "the first person who went missing was carl andrews. he was thirty-seven. his wife claims he was supposed to have been walking home from work but never showed up for dinner."

ellie scrambles through her messy stack of newspapers, searching for carl's report. she finally finds it, the paper dated to have been written near the beginning of december. she straightens out the wrinkles, examining his picture.

"looks like your average middle age man." ellie mutters, taking in his scruffy beard and wrinkled skin. "he was a carpenter. had two kids, both boys."

"yes, i have the paper pulled up on my computer." joel says. "but it doesn't show his address or nothin'. this shitty website only has half of the damn document."

ellie skims through the words, searching for the street or neighborhood he'd lived in. when she turns up empty-handed she groans, now well familiar with the feeling of disappointment regarding this case. "nope. no home address." she says with an evidently annoyed tone.

"what about his workplace?" joel asks. "if he'd been walkin' home, his work must be close enough for him to do so."

"oh shit," she mutters. she'd studied his article for hours — studied all of them — and she hadn't even thought to look there. her hands clutch the paper as she searches with a hungered gaze. her eyes widen at the address listed on the paper. "yes it's on fifth street."

more typing is heard through the phone, "says here that,, there's a neighborhood right by there. a few blocks down from the carpenters' building. must've been where he lived."

"perfect." ellie grins, adrenaline rushing through her.

oh, she feels on top of the world right now.

"okay, now i want you to look for addresses in all the other papers." joel says, flipping a switch in his tone — off to being ellie's friend and on to being her boss. a familiar change, but an unpleasant one nonetheless. "check 'n see if there's a link between where they'd been last spotted."

"okay."

ellie sets carl's paper aside and grabs another random one. she reads the heading briefly, recognizing it to be the article on bryan turner who'd gone missing in the middle of january. he'd allegedly been walking his dog and never returned to his apartment, according to his elderly female neighbor.

the address is actually listed this time. not his exact apartment number, but the building. ellie can't help the smile that tugs at her mouth again as she grabs a random notepad and scribbles both addresses onto the paper, reminding herself to compare their proximity when she gets back to her hotel later tonight.

"you're a goddan genius, joel." ellie mutters as she sets bryan's paper atop carl's and grabs another. sam cortez. late december.

"thanks, kid." joel chuckles into the phone. ellie has it set aside, call set to speaker as she flips through papers and continues to write down addresses into her notes. her movements are frantic and hurried, adrenaline refusing to wind down from its newly heightened state. joel speaks again, regaining her attention. "uh, sorry t' tell you this but i've gotta go. it's almost midnight and i've been at the building since ten o'clock this mornin'."

"yeah yeah, whatever." ellie replies off-handedly. "thanks for your help, old man. i think i can take it from here now, though. go get your beauty rest."

"promise to call me in the mornin'?" he asks. "i wanna hear what y' find."

"yes, i promise." she laughs. "i'll call you as soon as i wake up."

"okay good. don't overwork yourself either, you need to⎯"

"goodbye, joel!" she says, grabbing her phone and hanging up on him before she has to listen to him reprimand her for lack of rest. he's one to talk, too, seeing as he'd just admitted to having been at the building all damn day.

she sighs, deciding to put a pin in her address search and get back to her hotel to finish working in the comfort of a bed.

she sets her papers into two neat piles in the passenger's seat ⎯ one for those she'd already gone through and one for those she hasn't yet gotten to. then, she puts her key into the ignition and pulls out of the little road.

as she drives down the street, she examines her surroundings once again. still as impoverished as before.

she passes a small farm house, eyes drawn to the old lady sitting on the porch. she's rocking back and forth rather ominously, making direct eye contact with ellie through the windshield. slowly, the woman nods her head toward where a large cross is staked into the soil of her front yard. ellie looks away, a sudden uneasiness washing over her as she presses harder on the gas.

she reaches her hotel a few minutes later, stuffing her papers under each arm before entering the building and heading toward the elevator. by the time she reaches her room, she practically rips her heavy leather jacket off, the yellow 'fbi' label bright and bold against the black material as she tosses it onto her bed. she sits cross-legged in the center of her room, laying out all the newspapers in front of her.

she continues to sort through them all, eyebrows furrowing as she comes to realize that all the victims are men.

she hurriedly flips through the documents, certain she must he wrong. but she's not. they're all male. ellie writes this down on her notepad, handwriting rushed and nigh unintelligible. despite the sloppiness, she circles it, sure it'll prove to be of importance later on.

by the time ellie finishes going through what feels like hundreds of papers, she decides that's enough for her to be able to find a pattern if there is one. the digital clock atop the nightstand reads 2am, flashing bright red numbers at her. she ignores it, too high off the thrill of finally finding something in this priorly monotonous case.

she pulls her laptop from her bag and flips it open atop her crossed legs, quick to pull up a map and type in the coordinates of each address. they appear random at first, completely fucking unrelated to one another. a pang of dread hits ellie in the chest, worried this will have all been for naught.

but then she zooms out.

each dot for each address glows blue. when zoomed out, it forms something. ellie squints, tilting her head at the incoherent image she struggles to make out. seeing as many of the papers weren't analyzed, the picture is only half-complete.

but then it clicks. a pentacle. and at the very center of the shape, a church.

ellie's mind goes back to the old woman on the porch. the way she'd nodded to her cross. the way almost every family in bluefeild is outwardly religious. she can't believe she hadn't seen it sooner.

this isn't just some case where she can stare at newspapers and hope something pops up. it's an intricately weaved web of murders.

her chest heaves as her eyes dart across the screen, unable to believe it. she finds herself tapping her men against the floor, drumming it just as joel does. she curses herself, tossing the pen across the room as her mind reels. it lands in front of the door, ballpoint pointed toward the exit. ellie takes this as a sign from the universe. despite not having ever been a religious person, she can't help the pang of hope in her chest.

deciding to indulge the pen's sign, ellie writes the church's address into her notepad, shuts her laptop, pulls her jacket back on, then heads for the door. she steps over the pen on her way out.

𝓢he stares up at the church, checking to make sure she's absolutely certain she's in the right place. when she's proven to be correct, she stuffs her notepad into her pocket and walks toward the building.

ellie doubts anybody is inside due to the time, but she wants to search the place regardless.

the church is old, creaky wooden exterior painted in uneven shades of white. the roof is brown and dilapidated with wear. atop it, a large cross is seen standing tall, its tip pointed up at the starry sky. ellie wades through the overgrown grass, her breath coming out in white clouds. it's fucking freezing out here.

when she reaches the building, ellie cups her hands around her eyes before peeking through the windows. the glass is dusty and cracked in some places. she can't seem to see through it, transparency made opaque from lack of maintenance.

she leans back and wipes a hand across the dust, forming a wide arc to peer through. inside, the church looks brand new. wooden pews line the space, a long aisle between each formed column. the floor is white tile, cleaned to be spotless. she tilts her head, struggling to look toward the pulpit. it appears to be⎯

"what're you doing?"

ellie jumps, her head slamming against the top of the window frame. she ignores the ache and whips around to face the owner of the voice. a nun.

you stand behind her with a raised brow, your entire body covered by black and white robes. ellie blinks, something about you making her stomach lurch. she's instantly put on edge, shameless in the way she examines your features.

your brow is knit in distaste for the trespassing girl. your eyes are sharp and steady as you pin your gaze onto hers. your hands are clasped behind your back, formal and almost robotic. or at least, that's how ellie sees you.

ellie reaches under her jacket and pulls out her badge. "fbi."

"there's no fbi in bluefeild." you point out, voice steady and melodic. ellie's lips part at the sound but she shows no other form of sway. you eye her badge, ellie williams. noted to be a top agent in her line of work. your eyes narrow. "where exactly are you from?"

"richmond." she responds, eyes never leaving yours as she places her badge back into the interior pocket in her leather jacket.

you tilt your head, inquiring. "virginia?"

"yes." she confirms.

you hum, noting the four hour drive she's sure to have taken in order to get here. you looks out across the grass, seeing her car still running as it's parked on the side of the road, yellow headlights acting as a beacon against the dark night.

"it's late, miss williams." you tell her, turning back to her to find that ellie's eyes have yet to leave your face.

she analyzes each expression you make, contorting every detail to memory ⎯ from the way your eyes flick across her features to the way your shoulders shift slightly after having been standing in one position for so long. she memorizes you, allowing your very being to sink into her mind. for the case, of course. you're a suspect, after all. she needs to learn you and feel you out in order to get a proper read on whether you're innocent in all this. that's why she stares at you. that's why her pupils are blown and her lips are parted again. totally.

"do you want to come inside?" you offer, raising a brow at her strange, yet obvious sense of interest in you. "it's freezing out here and i happen to have just brewed some tea."

her eyes dart to the shabby church behind her. judging by the exterior of the building, imagining the place having ac and working electricity is shocking. but judging by what she'd seen of the inside, she's tempted to take you up on your offer. for the case.

"only if y' agree to answer some questions of mine." she says, deciding to set the terms and conditions early on.

your eyes narrow, "what type of questions?"

"the type i need in order to solve the case i'm workin' on." she replies, reminding herself of the large amount of missing men and boys who've disappeared in these past three months.

"mm," you hum.

you look her up and down, taking in the sight of her. it's rare to see any form of law enforcement out here. you'd lived in bluefeild all your life and never seen a cop or fbi agent outside of the television. her leather coat hangs heavy from her set shoulders. her chin is held high despite the way goosebumps trail across her skin due to the chill of the air. she's wearing baggy black pants and heavy combat boots. interesting.

"sure." you shrug. "i've nothing to hide."

"we'll see 'bout that."

her eyes rake over to where he car remains running. she leaves it, using it as a sign to you that she plans to make this quick. you understand the gesture and heed it with care, nodding as you shift around her and walk toward the entrance of the church. the large wooden doors are already unlocked as you push them open.

ellie draws her eyes across the foyer, noting the long hallway. to the left is a doorway leading to the sanctuary and chancel that she'd seen through the windows. to the right is a large door with a shiny golden handle, locked. the hall is lined with more doors, some locked whilst others are free to peer into.

you move about the space as though you'd lived here all your life. ellie supposes that might be true, actually.

you sweep down the hall before turning one of the corners down a branched passageway. ellie follows behind you, the hall illuminated by only a dim yellow light. on either side of the hall, more and more doors branch out to the side. ellie pays no mind to the building's layout anymore. instead, she finds herself more interesting in watching your habit billow behind you, your shoes clicking with each step against the tile.

eventually, you're both now in a kitchen area. ellie hasn't a clue when you'd gotten here, far too distracted by you to care much for the journey you'd taken her on.

the floor is tiled to mirror the sanctuary, counters made of marble. you flick a switch and the lights flutter on, a low hum sounding from the ceiling as the kitchen is illuminated by a yellow glow. on the counter, two cups of tea sit premade. you grab them, one in each hand.

with an amused expression, you pass one to ellie. she takes it, eyes the glass in her hand for a long moment. in the end, she decides against trusting it.

"uh," she clears her throat as she places the mug on the counter behind her, turning to you with an uneasy weariness. "you knew you'd have a guest?"

"hm?" you hum, tilting your head at her with an innocent curiosity.

"y' made two glasses." ellie points out. you continue to look at her, feigning confusion that urges her to continue her explanation. "it's just— well, i haven't seen anyone else here besides you."

"i hadn't priorly known of your arrival, if that's what you're suggesting." you inform her before taking a long sip from your mug, peering at her over the rim with an alluring twinkle to your eye. you lower it, keeping the glass poised between your hands as you lick your lips and continue. "i simply knew i wouldn't be drinking alone."

"what's that supposed to mean?" ellie inquires, those fbi instincts of hers lacing through her tone. her eyes glint with piqued interest, watching you with a steady sharpness. it weighs on your chest, heavy but enthralling.

"what i mean is," you place your mug on the counter with a light clink. "in this church, you're never alone. not really."

she raises a brow, back straightening. "someone else is here?"

"something." you correct, a smirk tugging at your lips. "a deity, spirit, ghost, demon. take your pick, miss williams. it hasn't a title just yet."

ellie has surely formed her doubts about whether or not you're mentally insane. she can't help but indulges you nonetheless. if she intends on puzzling out the mystery of the missing people, she can't outwardly state that you're crazy. so instead, she says, "are these,, things good? or are they evil?"

"mm," you shift, taking another long sip of tea. you ponder on her question while drinking, your mind deciding on exactly how much you wish to tell this governmental investigator. once your mind is made up, you place you mug back down and flash her an amused smile. "its morality varies. as i said, it doesn't much like the feel of being confined by the barbed wire of titles. plus, there's more than one. and none are a repeat of the other, each separated by individuality."

ellie bites back a scoff, trying her hardest not to just grab you by the shoulders and shake you senseless. she wants direct answers, not riddles. she hasn't the time to figure out what you're trying to get at.

"how many?" she asks. "like. are there lots of them or are they few and far between?"

your brow knits as you take a step closer. at your growing proximity, her breath hitches. you are more than just a nun, you're the embodiment of her obsession. all the care and time she'd poured into this case; you personify it.

you're a religious figure in and of yourself. something worthy of worship and praise. if you were to seen by the world as ellie sees you, historians would be studying you for eons to come. paintings and playwrights would be made in your honor, temples and statues forged in hopes that you'd bat the sculptor even a moment of your attention.

but, alas, that's not how the world works. instead, you're made to be a random nun who lives holed away in a ragged church in the middle of nowhere. perhaps the universe had been wise to hide you from the world, for fear of what your divinity would cause. a repeat of troy, no doubt. wars fought for your hand. lives lost for the pulpy beating heart caged behind your ribs.

"as many as i'd like." you tell her, face now mere inches away from her own.

your body is covered entirely by your habit, black fabrics hanging from your shoulders and arms as to keep your entire being shielded from sight. your hair is cast back and under your veil.

despite the coverage, ellie's enamor is unmoved. it's not your body or your hair that she's drawn to. it's the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the color of your eyes. it's everything that makes you stand out like a brightly shining star in comparison to the dull darkness that is this church.

and stars like you ought to be admired.

"as many as—" she squeezes her eyes shut, knowing her only chance at regaining control of her head is to not face you. her mind is muddled by thoughts of you. she can't think straight. when she reopens her eyes, she could've sworn you've moved closer. "what're you sayin'? i don't—"

"don't understand?" you finish for her, tone pitched in regalement. your head tilts to the side, your noses brushing. "few people do."

"just tell me what y' mean." she utters, voice a whispered breath across your face in the form of a plea. "tell me without the riddles. tell me without trying to evade the truth. tell me with honesty. if you're straight forward with me, i'm sure i'll understand."

you sigh through your nose, leaning away from her. she follows you like a fish on a hook. you take a step back and she takes one forward. noticing, you hold a hand up to halt her movements and she instantly ceases, blinking at you with parted lips.

your head is downcast, palm against her chest. "you'd hate me."

"hate you?" she questions.

despite only just having met you, ellie is quite certain she'd never come to hate you. your very being is as much a wonder to her as life itself. you're a celestial beauty she cannot bear to tear her eyes from. hate is foreign when you're the context in which it's spoken.

"yes." you confirm, expression contorting into one of feigned guilt. and, had ellie not been in such blind awe of you, she'd have likely seen through your facade of deception. "i've made mistakes; plenty. i could never expect you to hear me speak of them and look past their malice."

"but i would." she whispers, taking a step nearer. she places a hand on your wrist, lowering your palm that had priorly been raised between the two of you. she looks down at where she touches you, albeit through the cloth of your gown. "i'd look past it. i'd see you as i do now regardless of what you'd done."

you shake your head, "you cannot mean that."

"i do." she brings your hand to her mouth, pressing her lips against the hills of your knuckles. she looks up at you through her lashes, her mouth remaining close to your skin as she whispers, "i do mean it."

you feel guilt settle deep within your chest, burrowing between your ribs and in the very tissue of your heart. an immoral darkness encompasses the organ ellie so desperately desires to obtain.

you'd lured people into your entrapment many times before. but something about ellie makes you feel bad for doing what you know you need to.

but it's too late now.

she's your last victim. the final sacrifice needed in order to finish what you'd started back in december. after taking her life, all will be well. all will be well. all will be well. well, well, well, well. you repeat this over and over in your mind as ellie kneels before you. she looks up at you as though you're an alter made for this. for worship.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch her sink to the tiled flooring, hands brought up to rest at your hips. her fingers fist the fabric of your habit as she speaks once more, "allow me to prove how much i mean it?"

your head is swimming, unsure on what to do. logically, you know you should stop this before it gets too far. you've already lured her in close enough to do what's needed. but, for some reason, there's a thick knot forming in your chest. as it grows, you come to realize it's not a knot at all. it's a fist. it's ellie's fist.

her eyes bore into your own, her hands remain gripping your hips. somehow, though, you feel as though they're managing to trace their way through you. they line your bones and caress your tendons before inevitably finding their way to your heart. she holds it in the palm of her figurative hands as her physical ones begin to hike up your habit, slowly pulling the cloak up from the floor.

still, despite the discernible desire in her eyes, she does nothing but wait for your response of consent.

it's inexorable, the way you give in. the slight nod of your head had been predestined from the moment you spotted her at that window; and it will continue to prove relevant until your respective faits are sealed.

to ellie, it felt as though you'd taken hours to reply despite it only having been a minute or less. but the moment you nod, she's moving eagerly. she's grabbing your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter whilst simultaneously struggling to pull up the skirts of your clothes. she's trying to do so many things at once that it's dizzying. for both parties.

you aid her, shifting atop the marble as you pull the habit up to reveal what lies beneath it.

ellie feels the world fall from beneath her knelt locale as she stares. a pair of black lace panties adorn you, the upper half of your body remaining covered by the bunched cloth of your habit. the time she takes to memorize you feels agonizing as you sit there, itching to feel her body on yours.

once she's confident that the image has been successfully engraved into her mind, she leans forward. your legs are already parted when her mouth makes contact with your clothed vulva. the wetness that soaks the material soon made into a mixture of your arousal and ellie's opened mouth.

her tongue traces light circles into your clit, a soft sigh escaping your lips as your grip on your habit begins to loosen. you toss your head back in pleasure, the sound of ellie's slurping and licking mixing with the mechanical hum of the lights.

"ohmygod," she says against you, the vibrations of her voice making your breath pick up its pace. "you're so fucking perfect."

one of your hands comes down to tangle in the auburn of her hair, tufts weaving between your shaky fingers. you tug on it, pulling a grunt form the back of ellie's throat as her scalp stings. despite her noise of pain, this only manages to make ellie more vehement in her actions.

she grabs the hem of your panties with her teeth, yanking them to the side. her eyes are shut as she licks a long strip through your wet muscle. you can’t help the way you stare down at her, watching as she puts her absolute all into making you feel good. and, as it turns out, she’s quite skilled at doing so.

ellie's mind is fogged over, mimicking the way her car's windows had been earlier. she supposes there’s no true difference there, however. the interior of her car had been warm in comparison to the cool outside air. swap the temperatures and there’s naught that varies. the warmth that you provide makes ellie feel cold in contrast, which ends in a fogged mind.

the taste of you is enough to make her lose whatever sanity remains intact. all that adrenaline that had flowed through her earlier is being poured into you.

after all, stars should be worshipped right? they should be admired from below, gawked up at. they should be mapped and studied by only the wisest of mankind. they should be doted on with a possessive sense of adoration, one only fit for something so celestial and untouchable as a star.

and that's what you are. to ellie, at least. you're a brightly shining nebula — a feathery cloud of vibrancy, visible only in the darkest of nights. only in the coldest of weathers. only in most decrepit of churches. only here, only now.

only when fate is carved in this exact way. had one thing been altered, none of this would have taken place. it was providence that brought you together. you weren't written in the stars or tethered your entire lives. in fact, the chance of your paths crossing was rather low. but, honestly, that only makes your acquaintance more deeply rooted in kismet. makes it more special.

"fuck," you pant, chest heaving as you squeeze your eyes shut. your head thuds against the cabinet as you tighten your grip on ellie's hair. she groans, fingers pressing deeply into the skin of your hips, hard enough to leave a bruise. your thighs tighten around her head, a coil of heat sitting heavily in the pit of your stomach. "ellie, i'm—"

she tilts her head up slightly, nose pressing into the bead of your clit. she watches through lidded eyes as you come undone onto her face.

she savors it, committing every little detail to memory. a habit this has become, watching you. your brows knit, your legs shake slightly, you breath hitches. and ellie retains all to it.

she made you see stars. made you look into a mirror and see yourself.

that feeling of blissful release is what she feels every time she's fortunate enough to gaze upon you. and now you've experienced it. and she cannot feel more accomplished than she does right now.

"this," you pant, tugging on her hair to bring her face up to your own. she does as you direct her, standing from the floor to press your foreheads together. "was a terrible idea."

"yeah?" she breathes out. "and why's that?"

you run your hands up and down her back, fingertips tracing the stitching of her leather jacket. you can feel the outlined letters of her 'fbi' label. that familiar twinge of guilt encircles you.

she's a good person — a woman who's to spend the rest of her life helping random people she doesn't know. and yet, here she is. made unfortunate enough to have succeeded in her endeavor.

she stares at you like you're a god, something heavenly. something seraphic. something worthy of her.

"i'm not a good person." you whisper, leaning away from her proximity. predictably, she follows, leaning closer with a desperation only fit for one in love.

the guilt of what you must do is eating you alive. it claws at your chest, snapping your ribs like twigs as it wedges between them to burrow deep within you. it's agonizing yet completely unavoidable.

and in a sickeningly poetic outturn, a random butcher knife is sat neatly atop the marble counter only a foot away from where you sit. just as ellie meets your eyes, the blade happens to catch the light and reflect yellow luminescence. a grotesque reminder of what you're unable to run from.

"nobody is innately good. and, as a nun, y' should know that better than anyone." ellie huffs out a laugh, eyes not daring to stray from you. "in other words, i don't care."

"but you should." you insist, voice teetering on the edge of plea.

"and yet, i don't." ellie counters, just as passionate in her solemnity. you suck in a breath, eyes glossing over. she looks at you with a fondness that feels foreign. she cups your cheeks between her palms, repeating, "i don't."

"i've done horrible things." you say.

"you're a nun." she points out with a light chuckle rumbling her chest. "how horrible could these things have been?"

part of you wants to open up to her, tell her everything that's been weighing on you for these past three months. but each time you get close to a confession, something inanimately symbolic taunts you. whether that be the butcher knife, the hum of electricity, the gun holster at her hip, the residual lust in your chest, or the bright yellow lettering on her jacket.

that gun is meant for you just as that butcher knife is meant for ellie. she'd been wise to bring a weapon, a clear sign that she'd intended on finding someone culpable enough to suspect. and you'd been wise to set the blade atop the counter on the off chance that you'd meet your final victim tonight.

you feel sick to your stomach.

"oh shit," ellie curses as she takes notice to the way you're visibly crumbling in front of her. "i— uh, i didn't mean to be, like, insensitive or anythin'. i'll still listen to you. and i promise to not hate you. promise to never hate you."

"ellie, stop." you sigh. "you can't promise something like that. you don't even know what i—"

"then tell me." she insists, your face still in her cupped hands. you look at her through blurred vision, naught but sincerity behind her pale green irises. "if y' tell me what it is that y' did, we can both carry the burden."

you're instantly shaking your head.

"you don't have to do this alone." ellie says. "plus, isn't a weight split a lighter load than one full?"

as you stare into her eyes, you can't stop yourself from what comes next. you're unable to keep your mouth shut when she's looking at you like that. you decide to tell her, opening your ribs and bearing your heart as though she hadn't already taken it from you. you truly feel more bare in this moment than you did when she'd literally been eating you out.

ellie put her entire trust into you when letting down her guard and abandoning the case she'd obsessed over for weeks. she dropped it like it were nothing, focusing entirely on you in its stead. the least you could do is be honest, right? plus, she's not leaving here anyway. you'd locked the door the moment you two entered the kitchen when she'd been too distracted by your beauty to notice. the trap is already set and she's sitting inside of it without a care. all you need to do now is pull the strings.

but first comes honesty.

for ellie, you'd peel off your clothes. you'd peel off your skin. you'd peel off your flesh. then, when you're naught but bones, you'd give yourself to her. you'd give your entire being to her. not because you think you're worthy of her possession, but because this is all you have. the only thing you're able to offer her as a symbol of your devotion, it's yourself.

though, while you're unable to strip yourself clean off your bones, you feel as though rendering yourself vulnerable and fragile is the next best thing you can offer. for her, you are willing to do the priorly unthinkable.

"you're here in search of the missing men, are you not?" you ask, beginning with baby steps. "in search of who's behind their absences?"

ellie straightens, "i am."

"well." you gesture down at yourself. at your crooked veil that shows stray hairs peeking from underneath; at your hiked up habit, just barely falling to cover your underwear; at your knees that rest on either side of ellie's waist; at your vulnerable state that you're offering up to her. at your bones. "you've found me."

ellie's heart stutters in her chest. not because of what you'd revealed to her, but because you trusted her enough to do so. she no longer cares an ounce for the missing people of bluefeild. all she wants is you. she may be a fool to be this way, but she's in far too deep to mind.

she gives you a weak smile, "i don't care."

"what?" you croak. you stare at her incredulously. there's no way she doesn't care. there's no fucking way. "yes you do."

"i don't."

you blink, looking her up and down. there must be something you're missing — her reaching for her gun, her taking a step backward, her eyes darting toward the knife. but she does none of that. she simply remains stood between your legs, keeps her hands on you, and stares directly into your eyes as you confess your gravest of sins.

"but—" you shake your head, stammering. "but i killed all those people. they're dead. all of them. over two hundred men are buried behind the church."

"i don't care." she repeats, noticing the way your voice raises with trepidation. she traces her hands down your arms, stopping only when they reach your own. she tangles your fingers together, feeling the way your body relaxes slightly to the feel of her touch.

"i killed them because i was paid to." you tell her, your mind reeling as you're unable to grasp her lack of care. you talk in a frantic quickness, rushing to get the truth out for fear that ellie will change her mind in the time it takes for you to speak. "their wives, neighbors, daughters. they— they'd come to me in the confession booths and tell me of the men's abuse o-or assault or misdeeds. and i'd kill them for them. i don't—"

ellie's face remains soft. "you did a good thing, then."

"you can't be serious." you huff, eyes watering with the sheer confusion building within you. "i don't understand how you can still look at me like that. i took their lives. these people, i— they had dreams, they had aspirations and goals and families and—"

"listen," ellie whispers, her hands squeezing yours. "they were horrible people that hurt women. they were abusers and rapists and i don't care what y' did to them or how. all i care about is whether or not y' feel better."

"what?" you ask, voice nigh a breath. "what do you mean feel better?"

"to have gotten that off your chest." she digresses.

you take a deep breath, grounding yourself. the adrenaline of the confession slowly dwindles and you're no longer spiraling. you stare at ellie, centering on her face as the world comes back into focus.

you count your senses one by one. the smell of tea, the sound of humming lights, the feel of a hard counter beneath you, the taste of a bitter truth, the sight of ellie's fond expression. your breathing levels out, slowly but surely. and ellie stares at you the entire time. memorizing you.

"yeah." you whisper. "yeah, i do."

"then that's all that matters."

a supernova; to watch a star combust and explode, a colossally significant occurrence that only the most fortunate are able to witness. ellie considers herself to be substantially fortunate. not only because of what she'd just seen, but because of who it was that did it.

to her, this is even better than a natural supernova. rather than watching a random gassy ball of light die, its you. someone she adores and treasures. and you didn't die. instead, you opens yourself willingly to her. you broke down your walls and bore yourself to her. for ellie, that is far more important than some star's death.

"but—" you say, bringing her attention back to your face. your brows are knitted, clearly struggling to get the words out. she watches you with an easy patience, pupils blown as she submits this to her memory alongside all other files in her brain saved under your name. "but there's more."

"let's hear it." she replies, raising a brow.

you suck in a deep breath, lowering your head as to not face ellie before speaking. "i didn't just start killing whatever men that these women were asking of me. it started smaller. i killed animals, put them in a circle of salt, drew and pentagram, the whole ordeal."

"you sacrificed them?" she asks, tone remaining laced with gentility.

"yes." you nod. "i felt my baptism wasn't enough. god never answered me anyway, he never aided me when i needed it most. he watched my suffering and did nothing. so, i resorted to a new deity of worship." you lift your gaze to meet ellie's. "satanism."

"i'm sorry, i don't—" she blinks a few times, confused. "i don't understand."

"as a child, i relied on god to do everything. my life was nothing without him in it to keep me going. but as i grew, i realized it was unrequited. he cared nothing for me, watching with regale as i sobbed and begged for his help." you explain. "so, as a teenager, i switched over to satanism — worship of someone who actually cared enough to save me."

ellie says nothing, staying silent as you confide in her. she continues to hold your hands, softly cradling them on either side of where you sit.

"but then he wished for payment." you continue. "sacrificial lives as a form of repent for all those years i'd spent as a baptist. i obliged, of course. i killed bunnies and deer, doing research to understand how exactly to offer the stolen lives to him. but as of late, he's wanted more."

"humans." ellie guesses.

"yeah." you confirm. "but i couldn't bring myself to kill random innocent people. so i became a nun and listened in on the confession booths. then, i'd ask the confessors if they wished for me to intervene. they'd concur, paying me to take the lives of their abusers." you recall the fear in the women's voices, the shakiness to their hands as they slipped money through the cracks of the door. "they never saw my face, only heard my voice. and, seeing as i live in the church, none of the recognized me. i soon became a symbol of hope for women and one of fear for men."

ellie's mind strays back to all the religious symbols staked in the yards. "that explains their heavy faith. they think you're some type of prophet."

"yeah, but there's more." you say. "i've researched many, many books to make sure i get this ritual right. and, as it turns out, my 250th victim has to be a martyr. someone who doesn't believe in anything. doing this seals the ritual, ending it."

"good luck finding someone here who meets that criteria." she chuckles.

"exactly." you say carefully. "everyone in bluefield is heavily religious. unless that someone has come from out of town."

"me."

"i wish it wasn't." you rush to explain. "i wish there was some other way i could do this. but it has to be today. i need to do it before another woman comes in asking for my help or the numbers will get thrown off. and if i decline her, i'll lose the faith of all the women in bluefeild."

"okay," ellie shrugs. "do it."

"...what?"

"i don't care." ellie says, the sentence becoming something of a catchphrase for her.

the world stops. again. it screeches to a halt and you almost slam forward at the speed of which it crashed down. you stare at ellie with wide eyes, made shocked by her for a second time. someone so hauntingly perfect cannot truly offer herself up to you like this. she can't seriously be holding out her hand, asking for death to take it.

but what you don't know is that ellie would deem it a gift to die by your hand. it'd be better than dying as a withered elder attached to a beeping machine, or as an agent amid a case who only got to see you in her dreams.

but, this way, she'd be with you always. her love for you would be immortalized; she would be tied down to the very threads that make up the the fabrications of your soul. oh a gift that would be.

"do it." she repeats.

"what?, i don't—" she silences you by leaning forward, pressing her lips against yours.

ellie had kissed you out of impulse, knowing no other way to silence that thundering uncertainty that rumbles your brain. but the moment she does it, she's positive she'll never be able to pull away.

your lips are a cathedral of which she cannot help but melt into, your body a temple she's knelt before and wouldn't hesitate to do again. she kisses you with devout piety, her body molding into yours with each touch that lingers on your skin. somehow, this measly kiss is far more intimate than all else before it.

a silent tear slips from your closed eye as you subtly reach your hand over to where you know the butcher knife lies in wait. ellie surely feels your movement, there's no way she doesn't. but she makes no move to stop kissing you, her lips moving with a vehement neediness.

you loathe the way your fingers find the hilt of the knife. even more so, you despise the way you wrap your hand around it and bring it toward ellie.

she knows. she knows what you're about to do.

and she allows it.

love isn't easy for ellie, never had been. but with you, everything falls into place as though it'd been predestined to do so her entire life. as she feels your body shift toward the knife, nothing runs through her mind aside from your name. on repeat, the singular word replays over and over. she wraps your name around her skull, weaving the letters between her thoughts and molding the syllables against her brain. she was born to love you. and so long as she was able to do so, she'd be okay.

just as the tip of the blade brushes her jacket, you pull away from the kiss and stare at her. the knife remains at her back, resting against leather but not daring to press any harder. ellie's pupils are blown, her lips wet from your own saliva.

"i can't." you utter. "i can't do this to you."

she sighs, "i already told you it's fine, angel. just— as long as i have you near me, i'm content with my decision."

"no." you shake your head. "no i know. it's—" knowing ellie wouldn't understand your explanation, you decide to show her what you mean. with your free hand, you place your palm against her gun holster. "whatever you go through, i want to be there with you."

her eyes widen at your words. she jolts away from you, appearing as though she'd been burned. she sets her jaw, turning her hip away from your reach. "no."

"ellie, please." you implore, tone beseeching. "i can't live on knowing i'd done this to you."

"it's unavoidable." she reminds you. "y' made a deal with the fuckin' devil, or, well— i'm honestly not too sure on the details, but— y' can't not follow through. i understand, okay? finish the damn ritual and live your life."

"i don't want to." you plead with her. "not without you."

she shakes her head, eyes glossing over. despite the evident distaste, her refusal is weak. she stands only a foot away from you, seeming as though she's physically incapable of moving any farther.

"ellie," you say, whispering her name like a prayer. she can't help but look up at you through watery eyes. "ellie, please."

"i don't want you to die." she says, voice nigh a whimper.

"we'll be together, ellie," you tell her, hopping down from the counter to approach her. the blade remains in your hand, long forgotten to the both of you as the sight of the other is far more appealing. "if we do this, we can be together for all of eternity. they'll find our fossils in a million years, bones entwined. they won't even know who's who."

she chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "god, how stupid would that be?"

you laugh with her, "so stupid."

you're both crying now, tears streaming down your faces as you stare at one another. slowly, ellie pulls the gun from her holster. she's unsure on how this will go down, but she's willing to try. for you.

to be loved is a horrific thing, you've found. it's to be swallowed whole by something so disgustingly beautiful that you're incapable of turning away.

ellie takes a step closer, the distance between the two of you closing. her left hand holds the gun, her right hand coming up to wrap an arm behind your neck. she pulls your toward her, pressing another kiss to your mouth.

your tears mingle, forming a salty sea on your touching cheeks. you sob against her, chest heaving as you pull her closer with one hand, the other holding the knife. she tastes of sacrilege, salvation, and sacrifice. the ghosts that will haunt this decrepit church until the end of time. together.

whatever string that pulled the two of you toward each other will be knotted, tying two lost souls in search of the other.

"ellie," you whisper between wet kisses, lifting the knife to rest at the nape of her neck, "it's time."

she lets out a sob, a convulsive gasp tearing from her throat. "okay,"

you count down, the two of you agreeing to do it at the same time. you'll drive the blade into her neck whilst she pulls the trigger. your bodies will fall in unison, clinging to one another.

when you reach one, you sink the blade into her with a sickening squelsh. she chokes, dropping the pistol to the floor. it lands with a loud clank moments before her body falls with a thud. your eyes widen, heart ceasing. blood pools onto the white tiles and only one thought runs through your mind: she didn't pull the trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger.

she

didn't

pull

the

trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't—

you fall to your knees beside her, hands coming to cradle her bloodied face. you pull her head into your lap, rocking back and forth as crimson soaks into the black fabric of your habit. you clutch her tightly against you, pressing hard on her slit neck, willing the blood to go back inside.

death doesn't take her hand. instead, he grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her for the untimely demise she'd agreed to. the heart she'd taken from you rattles. the death rattle. you choke out a sob at the sound, everything aching.

you lean forward, pressing a kiss to her cold, dead lips. she doesn't kiss you back. you pull away, panting hard as your chest heaves and your eyes burn.

then, in the corner of your eye, you see the metal of ellie's pistol. you crawl across the kitchen toward the weapon, realizing she hadn't even cocked it. god, how had you been so stupid? you do it for her, loading the bullets into the chamber.

with the gun now in your possession, you crawl back over to ellie.

you position yourself atop her, entwining your legs and placing your head on her chest. it doesn't rise nor fall, no beating heard from beneath her ribs. you sob, placing the gun's barrel to the soft part of your chin.

then, without another thought, you pull the trigger. you pull it because ellie was unable. because ellie couldn't bear to do it for you. a part of you resents her for this, but another part can't feel anything for her aside from utmost love.

and there lie two bodies. lifeless.

ellie found what she'd been searching for all her life: something worthy of her devotion. something she can pour her all into. that had been why she became an fbi agent in the first place — in search something to worship whole heartedly. simultaneously, you'd found what you'd been searching for as well: peace.

in the end, however, it had all been for naught.

the ritual didn't work.

it needed someone faithless, someone who didn't care for religion, for god. but that wasn't ellie. not anymore, at least. because, after having met you, she'd finally found something worth her revere.

you were her religion.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist. @luvsturniolo @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @elliessweetheart @kasqnxx @xlovla

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 additional note. i want this to be said here because i know this piece is super fucking heavy. ellie and the reader's relationship is so fucking toxic. anyone who reads this, i hope you realize how absolutely horrific their love story truly is. there's a shit ton of symbolism weaved within this story that i didn't outwardly state (though most of it i blatantly explained). if u have any questions regarding this piece, i'd love to talk about it bc i put a lot of time into making it.

but, again, their relationship is TOXICCCCCCCCCC!!!!!! it's not meant to be idolized or romanticized in any way. if you didn't notice, i barely used the word 'love' and never made either of them say 'i love you'. that was for a reason!!!! because what they share isn't love. it's unhealthy obsession & i need that to be outwardly said before i post this

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 1 month ago

Text

Tom catches Evans trying to sneak into the Restricted Section for the third time that week a couple days later.

He knocks on the door frame – the element of surprise did him no favours last time – and leans against it casually. “Hard at work, Evans?”

Evans looks up at him with a glare that could strip paint, before turning the glare back to his book.

“It must be serious, to demand so much of your focus.”

No response.

“Perhaps I can help you with your research,” he offers. “I’m quite good at it.”

“What do you want, Riddle.” From the frustrated tone to the tense body language, it’s clear this is not really a question. More of a muggle sirens-and-lights warning.

“Why are you so convinced that I want something from you?”

“You’re a Slytherin, of course you want something.”

Tom doesn’t bother to point out that Evans is also a Slytherin; he gets the sense it’s a sore spot.

“And yet you don’t exhibit such scorn for either Malfoy or Black. What makes me so deserving of your suspicion?”

Evans snorts. “Those two couldn’t disguise what they’re really after if their lives depended on it. And neither of them is trying to get into my pants.”

“Well, more fool them.”

Evans sputters, flushing up to his ears.

“Piss off, Riddle!” The boy stands up, flinging the book closed (time magic, Tom notes – something to consider later) and almost falling over in his rush to leave as he gets tangled in his chair.

Tom darts a hand out and grabs onto Evans’ wrist before he can escape.

He narrows his eyes and considers the evidence. It’s a disproportionate reaction to an innocuously flirtatious comment. Tonight's efforts to take Evans to bed (or the table, or against the wall – he’s not picky) might be a wash, but perhaps he can learn something to improve his chances in the future.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Evans scoffs, looking increasingly distraught. “Everything’s wrong! And you being weird doesn’t help.”

“Weird?” Tom says, a little offended. “If my advances are unwanted, just say the word, but there’s nothing weird–”

“Stop playing with me!”

“Why do you think I’m playing with you?”

Evans snorts derisively. “As if someone like you would be interested in someone like me.”

That brings Tom up short. Is something so trivial the only obstacle?

“Do you think so little of yourself?”

“My self-esteem is neither here nor there,” Evans says irritably. “And jesus, how big is your ego – I don’t want you, so there must be something wrong with me?”

“I didn’t say that. What did you mean by ‘someone like you’ and ‘someone like me,’ then?”

“I’m a nobody, Riddle,” Evans says after a brief pause. “No fortune to speak of, no connections in high places, no real future prospects. There’s nothing exceptional about me. And you,” he hesitates, weighing his words. “You are exceptional – you would accept nothing less for or from yourself. People expect great things from you, and I have no doubt you could achieve them.”

The boy looks straight into his eyes. “But I do doubt your ability to tell the difference between ‘great’ and ‘terrible.’”

Tom feels a shiver slide down his spine, his breath catching in his throat. He wants to peel Evans open and find out what he knows, why he thinks that, who the hell he thinks he is to say such a thing to him. At the same time, Tom wants to get as far away from the suddenly strange boy, and that’s far more manageable at the moment.

He casts a quick obliviate and returns to his dorm. Sleep is long in coming to Tom that night.

(Tom Riddle’s Guide to Repeatedly Failing to Get Laid in the Restricted Section)

#harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #gratuitous use of obliviate #why deal with the consequences of your actions when you can make the other person forget it even happened #time travel #tom being a creep #harry is 1000% done #fic snippet

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another-goblin · 4 months ago

Text

I've seen a lot of interesting opinions about Dr. Ratio. Some of them I disagree with. So I decided to compile a little list of why I disagree with them. The first part will be about things that seem factually incorrect, and the second part is about things that are rather a matter of interpretation and context.

As always, I might be wrong, so feel free to correct me.

1. Things that seem factually incorrect.

"Ratio is an egoist and does everything for attention and recognition" - I don't remember him ever saying or doing anything that would indicate that. He saved these researchers secretly and made our TB take all the credit. He later even calls himself a "supporting character". He gets angry if we ask him for an autograph.

"He doesn't care about people" - yes, if you skipped his passionate speech to Screwllum about how much he cares about people. But also, everything he does in the game is helping people (saving these researchers on Herta station, offering us his help later in the express dialogues and messages - offering us to enroll in university, participate in devates, turn the express into a weapon, later helping Aventurine with his plan, helping him to find information, and so on).

"He hasn't achieved anything in science" - the list of his scientific achievements is easily available, I wouldn't say it's nothing. But I'll also leave this here:

Even his dedicated hater disagrees with this.

"Ratio's note did nothing to convince Aventurine to stay alive, it was all Acheron" - from how I see it, he was fully determined to end his life up until he read that note. Otherwise, why would they introduce the note at all? Why did Acheron feel the need to remind him of it?

"He never wanted to draw the gaze of Nous" and "He still wants it" - we can deduce that it isn't true from different parts of the game (he actually wanted it in the past but doesn't anymore), but that is a direct confirmation:

(I trust Screwllum's opinion.)

"Everybody hates him in-universe" - this is interesting because I even heard this from his fans. And it might sort of feel intuitive, but I don't remember any evidence of that. He literally has an in-universe fan club. People who knew him closely talk about him warmly in his character stories. The only person I remember ever expressing any negativity towards him was some shcolar in the Simulatred Universe, but I don't think it counts. I'll talk more about his students in particular later, but short version: I don't think they hate him either.

"I hate it when he tells me 'Zero points, get out' and throws chalk at me, that's mean" - that's so weirdly specific, but I've seen it a dozen times already. And, like, why??? He tells it to his enemies, not to us. I mean, nobody's angry at Serval for electrocuting her fans with her guitar just because that's what she does in her fighting animation.

Speaking of combat voice lines, if we wait too long, most characters get irritated and try to hurry us up. Meanwhile Ratio:

'That's okay, take your time, it's a turn-based game after all.'

"He's physically abusive to his students, he throws chalk at them" - similar to the previous point. I don't remember any mention of him doing that. The only case of him using physical force against a (potential) student was when, as a TA, he threw away a rich asshole who tried to buy a degree. And yes, in the boring real world, I wouldn't approve of that, but in the world of the game - well done, good ridance!

"He doesn't tolerate people disagreeing with him, he thinks he's always right"

"He's responsible for the crisis at Herta Station" - how though? I saw this opinion several times, and I'm really curious what people mean by that. Did he himself endanger these researchers by teleporting them who knows where, then faked the video from Duke Inferno, and so on? But why stop here while we're at it , maybe he also impersonated Ruan Mei, left the bug on the station, abandoned the poor cat-creatrures and drugged us with a cake?…

"He's worse than Dottore from Genshin" - technically it's a matter of opinion, but I think nobody will mind if I put it in the 'just wrong' category. But yeah, that's an opinion I've heard. I've got no idea what they meant, but it made me think, how many people did he help and save, both in the game and in his past? Probably more than most of the characters we've met so far. And he doesn't seem to discriminate, it's not 'I'll save my people'. He cured that disease for everybody's benefit, he saved Herta's researchers, he helped TB unravel the events on the station and then proceeded to pester them offering his help, he cosideres some troubled IPC executive 'his responsibility' and so on.

"He actually betrayed Aventurine" - no comments. Come on, play the game, read the dialogues.

1.5. A little intermission.

The thing that's hard to deny is that he definitely doesn't mince his words. Whether you see it as him being a rude asshole, being justifiably angry, brutally honest, sarcastic, or snarky, or showing tough love, or just being incapable of expressing himself in an adequate and socially acceptable way, it's up to you. I can understand how some people might be uncomfortable with that. I personally find it an interesting character trait. (I mean, he isn't even capable of expressing positive feelings in a normal way, what did you expect of him?):

There is also a very interesting (but rather confusing) thing that can be missed if you are unwilling to see further than the initial shallow impression, but it is impossible to unsee once you've noticed it. He sees himself as a teacher in two very different ways. It can be missed at first because both ways are described in very similar words. These ways are:

a teacher in a traditional sense (let's call it 'academic teacher');

and as something akin to a 'life coach', just helping people and making them realize that they shloud (and can) rely on themselves.

The thing is, we never see him in his 'academic teacher' role. As far as we know, he only acts this way with his university students. We never see him teaching anybody any scientific stuff, or berating people for their lack of knowledge and education. Yet he says that he considers everybody his students. But what does he mean if it's not about knowledge? He means it in the second 'life coach' meaning. Therefore, he sees literally everybody as worthy of his help and support.

BTW, I feel like his main problem as a character is that people tend to settle on the first impression they get of him and are unwilling to see further than that. Meanwhile, the game continues to explore his personality, revealing that most things about him are actually the opposite of what they might seem at first. That's why so many people think that he calls everybody idiots for being less smart than him, that he's egoistic and unfeeling, that he values knowledge above all, and so on. So if you actually have interest in him as a character, I'd encourage you to look at him more closely.

2. Now to the things that are more open to interpretation.

"He uses mean words" -to be honest, I'm not a big fan of writers making him use these words (idiots, fools, stupidity, and so on) because, first, they are usually used as just empty insults. (I'm curious whether he uses similar words in Chinese or something more nuanced). So I can understand how it can put some people off. And the second problem is that it feels like he means different things every time he uses these words. It's quite confusing. Here is a post where people helped me find different cases of him using these words; you can check it out yourself.

Let's look closer at some of these cases:

-'While geniuses wander among the stars, the ordinary can't even trace their footsteps. Those less gifted have no choice but to walk alone, enduring a lifetime of tumbles and triumphs. But even a life marked by failure is a life worth living — it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up' He seems to contrast geniuses with fools here, so fools are everybody who's not a genius. So if you are inclined to see him this way, if you squint, you can technically see it as him insulting people based on their intellectual abilities, right?… Except, he includes himself among these fools, so no:

So it's basically 'all who are not geniuses are fools, including me'. Which is an interesting way to put it, but it definitely doesn't mean ''you are all fools for not being as smart as me''.

But he mostly uses these words when he talks about his fellow scholars:

-'First, with the headpiece on, isolated from my five senses, I can think without interference. And second, I don't have to set eyes on stupid people' - we only see him wearing the plaster head on Herta's Station, a place full of the most brilliant minds in the universe. We never see him using it again with normal people, so the word 'stupid' here can't be about people's intelligence.

There is also an interesting little detail:

He admires her intelligence (although in a sarcastic manner) in his 'about Herta' voiceline. He doesn't wear his 'anti-stupid' mask when he's with TB or Aventurine, but he always wears it with Herta. Which is very telling, and indicates again what he means by 'stupid'.

Some other examples:

-'(…)the fools from the Guild with ambitions beyond stars should be banished from my sight and thereby mind' -'Don't invert priorities like these dolts from the guild' -'I cannot stand fools, idiots, or imbeciles. Seeing them fills me with dread. Regrettably, this space station is just like the Intelligentsia Guild — devoid of geniuses and filled with mediocrity' -'Ah, the Technology Department. Charming little place, isn't it? Madam Yabuli does possess some semblance of competence, but her subordinates? Oh, they're a riot — brimming with enthusiasm yet utterly devoid of intellect. It's as if evolution halted prematurely for them'

He is absolutely RUTHLESS when he talks about scientists, because he expects a lot from them.

So no, I don't think he'd call you an idiot for not being an A student, or having learning difficulties, or just lacking an interest in learning. He absolutely would though if you were a brilliant scientist, priveledged with great education, resources, and a personal lab, squandering your talents and funds on a useless vanity project, or hoarding potentially life-saving knowledge for yourself, to use as a commodity.

"But he does call people idiots!" - I've noticed that most of the time he uses these 'insults' he talks about some groups of people.

I could only think of 3 times when he called an individual an idiot. He calls Aventurine an idiot because he 'lost' the stones (but it doesn't count because he plays a role and pretends that he hates Aven). A scholar in an event in SU complains of Ratio calling him an idiot (I'm not sure it actually happened, it's just a story in SU).

But there is one case of him calling somebody an idiot and actually meaning it. And who is this poor victim of his terrible verbal abuse? It's himself. Whoops. (speaking of how he's supposedly full of himself and thinks that he's better than the others.)

"He would call me an idiot because of my supposed lack of knowledge/education/intelligence" - I showed in the previous point why I think he wouldn't (he never seems to use these words to mean that).

But also consider this. During his interactions with Aventurine on Penacony Ratio mostly plays a role for Sunday, pretending that he despises Aventurine. That's why we can't draw any conclusions about his personality from most of their dialogues. But the moments when he breaks the role are extremely telling.

Let's look at one of them from the beginning. They argue; Ratio calls Aventurine an idiot for 'ruining their plan'. And then Aventurine mentions that he didn't go to school and lacks formal education. If there ever was a good time to call someone an idiot for being uneducated, that's it! That's what Sunday expects to hear (because his plan hinges on Ratio valuing knowledge above all else).

And what does he do? He fucking apologizes! Even for the role and for the sake of their plan, he can't bring himself to insult someone for being uneducated.

"He's mean to TB" - it's a matter of interpretation, but his behavior with us didn't strike me as mean or demeaning. He was just being sarcastic and snarky as always (and I understand that it's not everybody's cup of tea).

The situation was time-sensitive and precarious. We don't know how much control he had over it. He tried to make us realize what's going on as fast as possible, pretending that he himself is clueless. Because his goal was to show the recearchers that despite the presence of 2-3 geniuses on board, none of them were able to save them. If he just publicly saved everybody, it would be just another genius appearing out of nowhere and saving the day, which would go against his goals and his philosophy.

And later, our TB seems to regard him with a mix of respect and amusement (calling him Professor, asking for an autograph), no resentment here. So TB didn't think he was mean either.

"He values knowledge above all, he's obsessed with teaching people stuff, and he doesn't understand/accept that other people might have other priorities" - I'd argue that literally the opposite is true. He doesn't impose his knowledge on anybody against their will, and we never see him berate anybody for their lack of knowledge or education.

Sunday isn't the first person to misunderstand him that badly, and he's not having it. Even though at this point in the story, his and Aventurine's plan hinges on Sunday's misunderstanding. But I think his position is very clear: pursuit of knowledge above all is a matter of petty pride.

He says it when we ask him why he doesn't nag us about getting our act together, before a party. So basically "if learning makes you feel bad (doesn't enhance your living) then you are doing it wrong, go and have fun".

This probably isn't considered canon, but it illustrates how he sees knowledge. Here is an analogy. If I had an apple orchard, and I thought my apples were awesome and they'd make a great gift, and you should feel free to ask me if you want some. It doesn't mean that I shove my apples into people's mouths against their will and then call them idiots and spit on them when they don't like it.

"He's a bad person because he didn't help us fight the big bug" - he knew who we are. It's not in his habit to directly involve himself where he's not needed, it would go against his philosophy ('you should count on yourself; you can do it'). It's not like he left us to die; he must have known how capable our TB is. BTW, he was still looking after us, seemingly ready to come to our help:

Besides, currently nothing indicates that (outside of the turn-based gameplay) he's anything more than a normal human being. He would be a hindrance in a fight.

"He's a bad teacher" - (first, here is an interesting post about this from the point of view of an actual teacher)

So yeah, it's about the 3% passing rate. Yes, it can mean that only 3% of his students end up learning something. It's possible that he's such a bumbling idiot of a teacher that he doesn't even understand how bad he is. It's possible that he's somehow still allowed to teach despite being THAT bad.

But I think it's much more possible (and consistent with his philosophy) that he just has very high standards. A 3% rate doesn't mean that only 3% know anything. Students might benefit enormously from his classes, even without passing. They still have all their valuable skills and knowledge.

But also, let's not forget that he doesn't teach children. He teaches at the university. And I don't think it's some 101 basics; it's likely something related to his research and discoveries, some extremely advanced cutting-edge stuff. So his students are already extremely well educated adults, who want to achieve more. He would probably see lowering his standards as a betrayal of his students.

"His students hate him" - I didn't get that impression. On the contrary, they seem quite interested in him (some times in really creepy ways):

The only indication that they might have something against him is this:

It's either a literal roll-call of actual adults who shed literal tears during his classes, or it's just students being their normal cheeky selves, being overdramatic about a strict teacher.

An example that came to mind: I can whine about how ruthless my gym trainer is and how I couldn't walk for a week after the last leg day. And his other clients would agree. But everybody understands that it's an expression of approval, not contempt. And maybe a bit of a humble brag.

Besides, if we decide to take that post at face value, then we'll have to take this literally too, meaning that his students consider him an actual God. And I don't think it's true:

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

There are still a lot of hot takes I disagree with that I haven't mentioned, but I'm too tired. This took WAY too long. Other cases are mostly quote-mining and deliberatly taking what he says out of context, which isn't very interesting to argue against (just read the full dialogue and consider the context). And also different variations on 'he's an asshole, he hates people, he thinks he's better than others, he'd call you an idiot for this or that, he's elitist, he only values knowledge and intelligence' and so on, but I think I addressed it sufficiently.

So yeah, that was my little character research. This wasn't written for his haters (I dislike some characters myself, and I wouldn't probably read 3K words about how I should change my mind). It was rather for the people who kind of like him, but who feel sad thinking how he'd probably call them idiots or something. I hope I was able to help you see him in a different way. He wouldn't call you an idiot, he'd support you.

#honkai star rail #my stuff #dr ratio #hsr 2.3

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rubberduckyrye · 3 months ago

Text

You know I've seen quite a few people say they're wanting to make v3 rewrites lately--and as someone who is actively working on one by myself, I feel like I should give some advice. I know I'm nowhere NEAR done with Twins AU, but I've made a ridiculous amount of progress and I think these things have greatly helped me out personally

So here are my tips for making a V3 rewrite and actually making it stick/not to burn out before the first chapter!

This is important. Don't try to please everyone. You will never please everyone. Write this for yourself, and you will find an audience. People can and will hate your fic no matter what you do. Don't try to please them, they are not your target audience-- so Write this story for, first and foremost, yourself. It'll feel so much more rewarding if you do I promise.

V3's main theme is extremely muddied due to how the narrative was and how open ended the game was left, and from my own research, no one can agree on what V3 was trying to say about truth and lies, or Reality and Fiction. If you want to rewrite this story, you're going to need to narrow down what you want your rewrite to say about the themes presented.

PLAN THE EVIDENCE AND MURDERS AS THOROUGHLY AS YOU CAN. I think not knowing what I was going to do for the cases and trials really scared me for the longest time until I essentially sat myself down and fleshed out all of the cases for Twins AU. Make evidence lists, do research on how your murder cases might go, the works. It's a lot of work but I personally followed this post and also made an evidence list to help me out plot out the murders for Twins AU. This is also a great way to flesh out your protagonist as well, since you get to explore their note-taking style and what kind of language they'd use for taking notes and if they have opinions about certain things.

Write a summary of each character in the story. DR games have a big cast and V3 has an even BIGGER cast than usual, so it's good to write down summaries for all of the characters. I also suggest really studying each character too, even if you plan on changing a character to better suit your tastes (or to get rid of offensive material.... looking at you Angie) you still want to keep the core of their character intact for fans of that character.

Speaking of characters, make sure to try and remember to write each one as a human being, even if they aren't human (Kiibo for example). Develop them, give them quirks and flaws, motivations and wants and desires and dreams. Even if you hate a character, doing this much character study will help you keep them in character and keep their motivations reasonable and understandable.

If you don't have a good grasp on a character, study harder. Don't go looking for other people's interpretations or try to be a crowd pleaser. Make your own interpretation, and that interpretation becomes special to your rewrite.

If you plan on changing a character, for the love of GOD do your research first. Don't go accidentally making Angie into a worse racist caricature of Pacific Islanders Please and Thank You. Actually, just do a ton of research in subject you think might be relevant to a character or the plot--like Gonta and how ableism prevails in his story. Like how Shuichi has anxiety up the wazoo and how Maki has learned helplessness. Study and research hard.

Pace yourself--I don't think people realize how GIANT a V3 rewrite project is--remember that this game is extremely long and you cannot write this in a single month. Once all of your planning is done, write a reasonable amount for it each day. For me, I'm able to crank out 2k a day because I type absurdly fast, but most people would probably want to start at maybe 500 words a day.

If you're not having fun, step back. You might be burnt out and need a break, or maybe the scene you're writing is just not working. Take time to assess your own feelings and do what is appropriate to resolve them.

Don't feel too discouraged if you need to rewrite a whole scene--it happens to the best of us and sometimes things are just not working. It's not lost progress to retry--consider the scene you are replacing as a rough draft you need to remake. I've had to erase huge 1k chunks due to this.

Reward yourself for big accomplishments! When I finished the prologue, I threw myself and my editor ( @trans-shuichisaihara ) a pizza party, and I plan on doing something like that again, albeit probably cheaper. Reward yourself for huge milestones! Hell, I owe myself at least one treat for two chapters I've written, but tbh I've been having so much fun just writing that doing so is rewarding within itself. That doesn't mean external factors can't help, so if you finish a chapter and you're proud of it, buy yourself a treat for working so hard!

If you got a friend who likes editing/beta reading, invite them to beta read for you! They can help you find errors and typos that you might've missed. If you plan on editing your fic, I highly recommend reading your writing out loud to help you find weird sentence structures and awkward phrases. This should have the bonus of making it easier for people who use screen readers/just prefer audiobooks to enjoy your fic as well!

EDIT! Here are two more:

It's okay to be scared writing something new! Getting out of your comfort zone is going to happen with a giant story like this, and maybe you're going to flop at the best parts. That's perfectly fine!!! You can always edit it later--or even just call it "good enough" and move on! This is fanfic for fun, not a professional project you're making money off of. It's okay if things are less than ideal and incredible imperfect. An imperfect story is at least written. That's better than not writing it at all.

For the love of everything that is holy, remember that the characters should be people--and remember that their talents do not make up their entire personality. Their talents should not solely dictate what they wear, how they act, or the worst offender in this fandom--how their executions go. When writing a character Execution, think instead of what would be the worst way for that character to die--that is to say, what would bring them the most despair upon their death. DR1 and DRV3's executions all play with the despair of the blackened in each execution (with DR2 being noted to heavily miss the mark and to be the set of executions that are the most disappointing to Kodaka, from what I've been told.) So if you're stuck on writing a new Execution, try to think about what each execution from DR1 and DRV3 does to play with the despair of the blackened. What about their executions are giving them despair in their final moments? Do they at all relate to their talents, or are they completely separate from their talent? Study them, and you'll be able to use that information to write your own unique executions that are miles better than most of the fan made executions out there.

And I think that's my advice for now! Happy writing, everyone!

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yaut-jaknowit · 7 months ago

Note

How about high tension between a male yautja and human. Where one gets drunk and finally yells that they want to fuck them already.

Tensions Run High

Pairing: Icheall-Dua (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2555

Summary: It was at a gathering for Yautjas and humans alike on a different planet than Yautja Prime. You had been constantly trying to hit up Icheall-Dua and he couldn’t get the idea! So, one night, during a feast of celebration that Icheall-Dua was going to become leader of the clan, you get drunk. A very bad thing. You have loose lips. When you tried again with Icheall-Dua and he doesn’t get it again, you straight up yell it in front of the clan.

Author Note: I realized this has taken me two months to get to. Sorry that production has slowed down. I've been grinding away at my game. Also, I didn't know if you wanted spicy or not, so I decided to leave it out just encase. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Ao3

Sonorous voices that boomed across the clearing filled the air. Joyous in nature. Prideful for the years to come. Every rise and fall of the suns to bring a life and challenges to the clan. You held up a cup of a drink that was considered alcohol. Between a Yautja and human mixture of potent alcohol, deluded for yourself.

It reminded you of whiskey with the slight burn with each sip you took. A drink not meant for shots. Rather just to take sips here and there. It’ll still knock you on your ass three drinks later. So, you took your time to consume the interesting taste of the smokey concoction.

Despite living among the predators of the universe and showing we are equals rather than enemies, the two species have come together. Some clans as you’ve heard are more reluctant, or rather downright say no, to allowing humans into their ranks.

Others, like the one you live in, are more accepting if you pull your own. You will not be babied. If you die, you die. A kill or be killed world on this planet. This isn’t even Yautja Prime. Yet, its dangers rival Yautja Prime.

You breathed in the marshes stagnant air. Though the division is still evident; Yautjas with Yautjas and humans with humans, you couldn’t help but find yourself drawn to Icheall-Dua. Marsh green and cream bellied. His scales are basic compared to those you’ve seen throughout your time through a few clans.

What Icheall-Dua lacks in different physical aspects, he makes up in his skills. From the words whispered amongst the clan, he’s a prodigy. He’s the next best thing. A male anyone would kill to be but could never get to his level. Yet, no matter how many times you try to send the right signals in Icheall-Dua’s direction, he doesn’t see it! The skulls, the meat, the Yautja way of courting!

Weeks of research were put into this before you attempted the first time. It should’ve been clear as a peacock spreading its tail feathers. No though. He accepted the gifts but never said anything after that.

At first, you drew back to ensure what you read was correct. Skulls of creatures are the first step. You did just that. Yeah, it wasn’t the dangerous creature on this planet but it nearly killed you! His obliviousness didn’t deter you though. You took a slow sip of your drink again, eyes sliding over to the beast that filled your thoughts.

A large cup filled with a similar concoction to your own was cupped in one of his large hands. Two of three fingers missing on that hand. You knew there was harrowing story to explain what happened. A story you would love to listen to with his deep, grating voice. The sound crunchy like stepping on a gravel road. Another sip downed the rest of the liquid.

With a sigh, you stepped around the larger species that filled the space to the bar tender. A night like this was to be celebrated with alcohol always being included.

After living around these guys for a quarter of your life time, you have learned it’s best to slip between them. Some will shift their weight allow you easier access around them. Yet, many have the mindset not to move for anything. You’ve learned to be slippery rather than it becoming a dick measuring contest. Not submission but avoiding unnecessary fighting. Why get wounded if it all could be avoided? Somethings in this culture you’ll never come to understand.

Once you reached the bar tender again, you set your empty glass on the counter and tapped twice. Ci’tha grunted and immediately got to work. Your drink was set in front of you with a tangy tasting fruit on the rim. You thanked the yellow based Yautja with a dip of your head then leaned against the count with your back to it. People watching.

Other humans were amongst the crowd, mingling with mainly other humans. Only a select few were chatting away with the friendlier Yautjas in the clan. None of them dared to go close to Icheall-Dua nor his father who had a permanent scowl etched into his worn features. A life lived through the ways of a Yautja of hunting and gaining scars along the way.

Icheall-Dua went to sip at his cup only to find it empty and shook his cup. You instantly noticed and spun around to face Ci’tha. “Do you remember what Icheall-Dua is having?” you rushed out and jerked your head over towards Icheall-Dua direction. The poor yellow Yautja jolted at the sudden move then glared at you. You sheepishly smiled an apology at him.

Ci’tha rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I do. Why?” he grunted and raised a brow at you.

“Can you make it? Yautja sized?” you sweetly asked the lanky Yautja who stood in your way of impressing Icheall-Dua some more. Though, the two of you didn’t talk on the regular, he could see what was happening. He rolled his blue eyes again before got to work.

The large mug was set before you. You threw a thanks towards Ci’tha before snatching it racing through the sea of bodies. At points, you nearly shoved your way through but reframed from starting a fight. All you had was a mug and a small knife not long enough to hit anything important on a Yautja.

After breeching the main crowd of people, you were able to make your way up to Icheall-Dua standing in all of his glory. His father only a couple of steps away from him, speaking to another Yautja. Icheall-Dua, himself, was crowd watching until you stopped before him.

“Hello… I saw your cup was empty and retrieved one for you,” you spoke up and presented the cup to him. His sky blue eyes looked down upon over the jut of his small snout. Icheall-Dua blinked slowly in boredom, gaze glancing to the cup in your hand.

He reached out and took it. A critical eye peered and inspected the contents. You gnawed on your bottom lip, in hopes he would accept the drink but nothing else was working. Maybe a drink would win him over.

The Yautja raised his shoulders in a shrug and gulped from the cup. You silently cheered to yourself, praying this was him finally noticing your advances towards him.

Next to him, Zutouh, his father, leaned over and scoffed at you. It didn’t deter you though. Through his one good eye, he analyzed you. Not all Yautjas still accept humans into their ranks. The older generations such as Zutouh are part of that. You’re used to it at this point, even dealing with clans who would kill you on sight.

“Great party,” you tried to start small talk in hopes to get Icheall-Dua to open up a little more. “What’s it for?” A closed mouth smile was directed towards Icheall-Dua.

Icheall-Dua kept his nonchalant expression plastered to his face. “I’m becoming the clan leader,” he stated as if it was an everyday thing. You tensed up mid sip of your drink, eyes darting over to his marsh green hide.

Well yeah. Zutouh is his father and the clan leader. Yet, each Yautja usually has a bunch of children. You didn’t know Icheall-Dua was next in line to ascend the throne. By Paya’s grace, you truly didn’t stand a chance against any of the females who would flock to him. Clan leader got you lots of perks. A title Icheall-Dua had to have earned out of all of his siblings.

“That’s amazing! Are you excited?” you kept up with the small talk, using questions to get answers from him. You gulped down a mouthful of your drink again as it started to affect your mind and rational thinking. “Of course, a male such as yourself with that physique definitely deserves that position.”

Drunk words were sober thoughts.

Alcohol gave you loose lips.

Zutouh snorted and shook his massive head in disbelief. You didn’t care though. What you said was true. Icheall-Dua was built well, the prodigy everyone saw him as.

One of his upper manibles quirked up for less than a second yet you caught it. “This is my destiny.” His answer short, barely even sweet. You nearly deflated at that but an idea came to him.

“Well, does your destiny have me included in it?” you flirted with him again like all the times before. You hoped he would finally get the big picture you were waving in front of him.

This caught Icheall-Dua off guard. The Yautja nearly choked on his drink you graciously provided for him and snapped his gaze to you. Hope flickered in your eyes as you noticed you had more of his attention on you. His hand tightened on his cup, claws slightly scraping across the glass wear.

Except, it all faded away when he pulled back that nonchalant expression and shrugged again. You could almost scream at him for that. Your nose flared with a snort, lips pressed tightly into a line. The alcohol in your system not helping one bit. A near glare was settled on the stupid marsh colored Yautja who you’ve pinned for the last few months.

Like a volcano, there’s only so much you could hold in.

“For the love of everything unholy, I want to fuck you!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, fire blazing in your veins while you stared this male down. “I’ve been trying for months the Yautja way to get your attention. And-and nothing! You hadn’t acknowledge my attempts or even told me to stop! I don’t know what I can do anymore.”

It all came out. Ranitng out your horrible experience trying to court a Yautja their way. All this research was false, wrong. It led you on for months and left you to feel this angry… in front of a crowd.

Your shoulders heaved with each lungful breath. The crowd around you had gone silence due to your shouting. The realization struck you, dosing you in freezing cold water. Your shoulders tensed up, eyes wide, glued to the spot. Nothing could make you move until Icheall-Dua took a step towards you.

Then, you spun on your tail and darted between humans and Yautja alike, a stumbling, drunk mess. They didn’t part for you, even when you ran into them but when a shadow gave chase, they instantly let him through. Your arm was snatched in a vice grip that would bruise tomorrow. Heat slammed into your chest, forcing you to pressed to his torso. Tears pooled the lips of your eyes as you looked everywhere but him. You couldn’t see the rage of you interrupting his celebration, of you ruining the night with this silly crush.

Your entire jaw was swallowed up by a hand and forcefully tilted your head back. Through blurry tears, you find his blue eyes on you.

“Say that again,” he demanded with a voice he used to lead. You tried to struggle against him, nearly turning your head enough to bite his fingers. Nothing worked to get him off of you. Icheall-Dua easily far stronger in close quarters… yet, you didn’t want to hurt him anyhow.

“Why? So you can embarrass me in front of everyone. Show everyone how much of a fool I was? To think I had a chance with you?” you snarled then paused for a pregnant moment. He squeezed his hand tighter on your jaw in a short warning. Icheall-Dua wasn’t one to be around humans often, he didn’t understand their fragileness. “Should’ve brushed me off the first time I gifted you a skull.”

None of this would be happening if he had.

“And why would I do that? I was following the advice given to me by your fellow humans for your courting rituals.” If he didn’t have such a tight grip, you would’ve jerked your head back. Instead, you raised your brows instead.

He was following dating advice… What had they told him? Also, dating?! Your heart started to thump loudly in your ears, like war drums. He had gone out of his way to ask for advice.

A lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “What, what was the advice?” you questioned and untensed your muscles. The Yautja responded by easing up his grasp on your jaw and wrist. Icheall-Dua didn’t let you go fully though. Not that you could outrun a Yautja in the first place.

His gaze deviated over to a group of humans who were staring the two of you down. Everyone part of the party was. “Samual said to ‘play hard to get’. It get’s people needy.” Oh, you were going to kill Samual when you had the chance. All these months of torture because that dumbass told him horrible advice.

You couldn’t help the breath of relief that escaped your lungs. Then, you began to laugh and shook in his hold. “That’s the worst advice anyone could give you. No, ‘playing hard to get’ is the worst way to show someone you’re into them.” Your laughter died down. “And I thought my research was a fraud when you didn’t react to any of the gifts I gave you.”

Icheall-Dua growled lowly in his chest and spread his mandibles in a display towards the humans. The group jolted and instantly scrambled away to be hidden away in the crowd. With them gone, he returned his attention back on you. “You did well and everything right. I apologize I wasn’t properly conveying my feelings towards you. Will you forgive me?”

All that tension in your shoulders you’ve been holding for months finally fell off. “Yes, yes. I forgive you and whatever stupid advice Samual gave you. I would say to do research but… that has also bad information as well.” His hand on your wrist released you to cup your waist. Goosebumps immediately rose on your arms. A tingle running down your spine.

“And what were you saying early? If my memory serves correct: you want to fuck me?” Oh god, he just had to bring that up! Heat instantly rushed your cheeks.

“That’s-that’s just the alcohol talking. I’m drunk. Had some drinks… I don’t know what you mean,” you did everything in your power to get him off of that.

“Daring little thing,” he mused and ran his thumb claw across your lips. Just a little more pressure and he could slice the feeble skin apart. “Taking more than they can chew.” You knew you had chosen right. He was still going to fuck with you though.

He leaned down so only the next words were spoken directly at you. “Once this party ends, would you like to start the night back in my tent?” he whispered. Your brain blanked. Not a single thought entered your mind for a long, unknown amount of time.

When some of the fog cleared, you rapidly nodded your head, eager. “My naughty little ooman.” He returned to his full towering height and offered his hand to you. “Come along, I know of seat you wouldn’t want to leave.”

Curses filled your head, the only thing to make sense in your fray of mental words to yourself. The things you could do to him.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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doumadono · 1 year ago

Note

Hello Dear Author,

I would like to state that I am a new follower and I already love your style and representation of the characters.

I don't know if your requests are open, but If it's not please feel free to not reply!

Can you do a Scenario or headconans for this.... whatever you prefer.

With Izuku or Bakugo or Shoto , whichever you prefer also.

With a reader who sometimes gets suddenly dizzy in summer because of the heat. Like sometimes her heart beat is fast and other times it quite low and she's unable to stand or talk because of dizziness, specially when they're outside, and how will they deal with her.

It's summer and the weather is too hot, and as a person who feels hot even during winter and the coldest weather, I can't with heat and I feel dizzy most of the time or when I stand up, The only thing that can save me is the AC🥹😭

Sorry for the long text.

Thank you in advance dear Author ❤️

Have a good day/night🩷

A/N: I've chosen to fulfill this request because I love boys, and the topic seemed interesting but in the future, kindly check my pinned post before dropping a request. Please note that I'm currently only accepting emergency requests. Any requests not labeled as emergencies are being immediately erased

MASTERLIST

Bakugo

Initially annoyed and frustrated by your dizzy spells in the heat.

Finds it hard to express his concern directly due to his temperamental nature.

Reluctantly keeps an eye on you during hot days, secretly worried.

Would never admit it, but he starts carrying a small water bottle for you.

If he notices you feeling dizzy, he might roll his eyes but will still help you find shade.

"Tch, can't even handle the damn weather... Here, drink this and sit down."

Shows tough love, but his concern becomes evident through his actions.

Keeps a close watch on you during outdoor activities, ready to intervene.

Might grumble, "Quit being such a hassle. Chill for a bit."

Surprisingly good at fanning you with a piece of paper or his own hand.

Secretly plans outdoor activities during cooler parts of the day to avoid your dizzy spells.

"I ain't gonna babysit you, but I'm not letting you pass out either."

Shoto

Observant and empathetic, notices your condition quickly.

Gently offers his arm for you to lean on when you're feeling dizzy.

Suggests finding a shaded area and doesn't mind if you want to rest for a while.

Always carries a small handheld fan or a damp cloth in his bag for your comfort.

"Don't worry, take your time. I'm here with you."

Keeps track of weather forecasts and suggests indoor activities on extremely hot days.

Will use his ice Quirk to create a comfortable temperature around you if necessary.

Takes note of patterns in your dizziness to anticipate and manage it better.

Offers his own water bottle without even having to be asked.

Asks gentle questions to understand how you're feeling during dizzy spells.

Suggests activities like strolling through air-conditioned museums on hot days.

His calming presence helps ease your dizziness when it occurs.

"Don't worry, I've got you. Let's find somewhere comfortable to sit."

Izuku

Immediately worried and wants to find a solution to help you manage the symptoms.

Researches the possible causes of your dizzy spells and preventive measures.

Encourages you to stay hydrated and offers water bottles regularly.

Carries a mini first aid kit with pain relievers and electrolyte packets.

Suggests taking breaks in air-conditioned areas to cool down.

"I read that staying hydrated and keeping a wet cloth on your forehead can help."

Will always have a backup plan in case you start feeling dizzy unexpectedly.

Shows deep concern, researching medical articles and talking to professionals.

Suggests keeping a diary of your symptoms to identify triggers more accurately.

Carries a small notebook with tips to manage your condition, just in case.

Offers to hold your hand during dizzy spells, to help steady you.

Comes up with innovative ideas like a handheld portable fan with a mister.

"I've been reading about different ways to manage this, let's try a few together."

Enthusiastically tries out relaxation techniques to help you stay calm during spells.

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safety-pin-punk · 10 months ago

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Punk 101: A Guide To Critical Thinking

We all know that critical thinking is important, and it's something that any punk will tell you is an essential component of advocacy and pushing for societal changes. But, what exactly is critical thinking? As defined by the dictionary, it's “the objective analysis and evaluation of an issue in order to form a judgment”. And that's a good, short definition! But it can make the act of thinking critically seem a bit hard and over complicated for some people. So lets phrase it in a way that seems more manageable:

Critical Thinking is the act of taking in information, understanding it, and forming or connecting ideas because of it

Sounds easy enough, right! So then what are the steps one has to take in order to be a critical thinker? I’m glad you asked! Here's a list in no particular order:

Learn About Things - In order to fully understand information and evidence, you need to know about the topic! Whether the issue is social justice or environmental protection, you need to have a base knowledge on the topic in order to form opinions on it. Researching topics on your own or taking classes are great ways to get informed!

Recognize Bias From The Source And Prejudices From Yourself - No source of information will ever be without bias. A good example of this is how different new networks discuss the same event. One might praise it, while another says it was bad. When trying to understand the information to form your own opinions, it's important to separate the information from the biases of the source. In general, it's good to remember that a pure fact is just the information without an opinion attached to it. On a similar note, you also need to be aware of your own bias! When you form opinions, ask yourself *why* you have that opinion. Do you have a reason? If you were to have grown up with different life experiences, do you think your opinion would be different?

Go Straight To The Original Source - A good way to try and avoid bias is to go to the original source. Maybe news network A and news network B have differing opinions on a Tumblr post. Instead of trying to navigate those conflicting opinions to find the facts about the post, you can just go straight to the post itself!

How Reliable Is The Source And The Evidence - How much should you trust the source that you got the information from? Do they have a reputation of giving factual information? Can you find the information on any other sources? Or maybe someone is yelling about something online, but they’ve failed to add a link. It might make sense to trust what a well established researcher says without a source for their information, but maybe not some random person on twitter. Even if you have a primary source for where the information came from, it’s good to be cautious of the information itself. Sometimes false information is spread around on purpose or because of misunderstandings.

What Is Being Excluded - Because biases exist, it is always possible that the source you are getting your information from is excluding more information either by accident or on purpose. To avoid missing information about a topic, it's good to check multiple sources and see if any have information that the others didn’t. A simple example of this would be two children playing on a playground. Child A pushes Child B, who gets hurt. When asked about what happened, Child A would say that Child B got hurt, but exclude the fact that it was their fault to avoid getting in trouble. Meanwhile, Child B and any bystanders would likely provide that information.

What Is The Other Side Of The Issue And Why Does It Exist - You don’t have to agree with other sides of an argument, but it’s very important to be able to understand what they are, who thinks that way, and why they think that way. This will help you to see other points of view and counter any points they make in a discussion with understanding rather than anger or frustration. This is also important because it can expand your own opinions and judgments on a topic. Maybe the other side has points that you have never considered before, but now thinking about them has developed your own beliefs.

Avoid Black And White Thinking - Remember that the world does not exist in a good/bad duality. Everything will have problems, and the things that have problems might even have benefits. The world and its problems exist on a grayscale. To incorporate this into your thinking, try to understand *why* someone or something is doing something, the impacts it may have on multiple different communities, who it helps, and who it hinders. It's important to understand all facets of something before you form your opinion, otherwise you may be lacking very important details.

Don’t Forget To Fact Check - Never trust just one source, no matter how reliable it is! I usually recommend finding the information from at least 3 different sources before you confirm whether it's true or not!

Be Willing To Change Your Mind - Part of being a critical thinker that is often forgotten about is remembering to keep an open mind. Because critical thinking is based on the practice of learning new information, understanding it, and then forming/linking ideas, it is an opportunity to grow and change. You may start out advocating for one thing, but then through time, experience, and thinking, end up advocating for something slightly (or majorly) different. That is more than okay, and it's a sign of growth and maturity!

Resources to help learn how to think critically:

The Foundation for Critical Thinking https://www.criticalthinking.org/pages/index-of-articles/1021/

The University of Tennessee https://www.utc.edu/academic-affairs/walker-center-for-teaching-and-learning/thinkachieve/critical-thinking-resources

The Element of Thought https://theelementsofthought.org/further-exploration/links/thinking/

The Better Future Program https://www.betterfutureprogram.org/liberation-library.html

My entire masterlist can be found here!!

#punk 101 #add to masterlist #critical thinking #okay so it wasnt out by jan 6 but in my defense my dad is currently radioactive ☢️#also. i didnt proof read because TIRED and lifes been wack so have fun with that

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is-the-post-reliable · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I recently discovered your blog, and I love to see you fact checking claims in posts.

I have a question, if it’s not too much to ask: How do you know that a source is reliable? Especially when it comes to particularly contentious subjects where everyone will accuse each other of believing propaganda and spreading misinformation. I’ve seen internet arguments where someone will cite a source and the other person discredits it one way or another. It sometimes feels like a back and forth between people debunking each others’ claims. I’m just lost on how to know you’re getting good information when trying to stay informed.

Have a good day! Thank you for taking the time to run this blog,

hi! thanks for sending this in

So I don't think there's a universal answer to your question, and truthfully I'm not sure we can ever know for certain that any information is 100% reliable. Even the most prestigious sources can release misinformation -for example, The Lancet, possibly the most important academic journal, published the fraudulent article by Andrew Wakefield that led to people believing that vaccines cause autism.

No source is always reliable, but we can try to find the source most likely to be reliable!

In regard to news sources, tools like MBFC can help you get a general understanding of the political leaning and credibility. However, even highly rates sources can be biased, so it's good to consider what relationship the source might have to your research topic. For example, the BBC has generally high credibility, but is often accused of bias on specific topics, such as trans issues.

Also, make sure to take note on whether the article is an opinion article - these are more often biased.

When it comes to academic journals, the type of study you're looking at is important - for example, a meta analysis, which reviews many different studies on one topic, is generally more reliable than a randomised control study, which is generally more reliable than a case study. See the evidence pyramid below:

I would always recommend reading multiple sources, rather than relying on just one.

If someone disputes a source, it's a good idea to listen and think critically about what they're saying and whether you think it's a valid criticism. Are they citing a source? Are they using facts or opinions? Is their source reliable?

Uh I can't think of anything else, but if you're ever unsure about a source or want to talk about anything in more detail, feel free to message me about it!

#ask #Anonymous #not a fact check #how to #about

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sokosmic · 1 year ago

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Astro Observations for

Leo Rising...

(Will add notes as I have time and think of more)

House placements based on Whole Signs

🌤️ Heart-shaped faces/heads. Hair! Wide smiles. Fair skinned or come from a lineage of fair skinned people. Confident persona with big gestures. Leads with heart...wears heart on sleeves.

🌤️ They aren't self-centered or the attention seekers they may get painted. With a (Libra 3H) they're mindset and mode of communication is centered around building relationships. They desire fairness and harmony when connecting with others and often go out of their way to please people when making those connections.

🌤️ This often appears contradictory to the way they behave when actually in a relationship. With an (Aquarius 7H), they may behave aloof and distant. But that isn't necessarily the case. Aquarius here may cause the native to desire freedom from the constraints of a traditional relationship. These individuals may prefer relationships and partnerships that are unconventional and go against the norm...requiring changes that bring excitement.

🌤️ In their (Cancer 12H) there is a strong desire to nurture their spirituality and their connection to the collective. While it may not be evident based on their house of relationships (Aquarius 7H), this really does go hand-in-hand because Aquarians are humanitarians. (Cancer 12H) also indicates psychic abilities.

🌤️ Although it may come across cold, these folks work hard and give a lot. They are no strangers to hunkering down and getting sh¡t done (Capricorn 6H). There may also be knee, ankle, or general bone issues that arise from this placement.

🌤️ On the same note...having a (Virgo 2H) lends to a very meticulous way of acquiring their needs. These folks tend to be pretty business savvy and have a very admirable work ethic and way of obtaining money. These are the people at work who just seem to know how to organize and categorize things for efficiency.

🌤️ There may have been some sort of trauma experienced in the early home life (Scorpio 4H). Secrets and things hidden or swept under the rug is very likely in the family. May come from a lineage of women with psychic abilities or occult practices. Lots of intense and transformational experiences derive from this placement.

🌤️ Depending on placements in the natal chart, we typically see this show up in their (Leo 1H) as a fierce loyalty toward becoming their best selves. There is a natural expression of confidence, courage, and creativity that they exude. Just like the Sun, people can't help but to see them.

🌤️ We also see this come thru in their (Taurus 10H), where here there is a natural ability and expression of beauty and making things aesthetically pleasing. This is usually specific to their career and public image. Here we may find them work methodically in fields such as interior design, jewelry making/design, or a form of physical labor related to beauty or creating beautiful things, such as wood working, pottery, or glass making.

🌤️ Unless there are planets in the natal that restrict it, these beautiful people are incredibly social (Gemini 11H), and often find themselves with lots of friends and associates. They tend to be leaders among groups they are involved. These are also people who create groups or organizations that are geared toward sharing information...think Facebook and other social media platforms.

🌤️ And they enjoy it! Running those groups or being an admin or moderator is something they do as a hobby. This is rooted in that (Gemini 11H) where they really enjoy sharing all the knowledge they gather through their social connections, personal research and travels (Sagittarius 5H). And people love them because they are able to convey messages with their wit and charm. These folks are funny and flirty by nature.

🌤️ Having a (Pisces 8H) grants these individuals with great intuitive gifts. It is also makes these natives quite empathetic towards the dark, shadow aspects of others. They often possess a natural tendency towards healing themselves and others with spiritual practices that aren't widely accepted or recognized.

🌤️ But what society thinks is the least of these individuals' concern. Their overview of the world is filtered through the eyes of Self for these people (Aries 9H). Their philosophies are geared toward independent thinking, carving one's own path, fighting for what is fair and just, and championing for the underdogs (Aries 9H + Libra 3H).

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basilknell · 7 months ago

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Vasily's Ethnic Background

Hello! I tend to ramble about history books I read adjacent to Vasily on my private accounts, so I figured I’d accumulate some of the information I read regarding headcanoning Vasily’s ethnic background. This’ll be a big post, so I’ll stash it under a read-more for anyone interested.

This isn’t meant to be taken as a concrete ‘Vasily is canonically ethnically x’ post, and as you’ll read none of the options I cover are necessarily concrete as there’s overlap and conjecture to be found in every choice. Nonetheless, this post's biggest purpose is reference for myself, as I rotate what I headcanon him to be often; I’m hoping some others might take an interest in alternate backgrounds for him from this, as I only ever see him portrayed as ethnically and nationally Russian.

I’d be happy to provide further reading/direction for certain information covered if wanted, and a special thank you to RSTRPV for some of the information I could not find! I will also occasionally update this post over time as I read more documents and come across more evidence/contradictions.

Please be aware that much of this can be a sensitive subject, and I have condensed most of this information to be understandable to the average reader which means nuance is lost. This is especially true in regards to the intersection of ethnicity and nationality of Cossacks when relating to Russian and Ukrainian history. I especially suggest further research beyond my simple blog if you have any interest in headcanoning Vasily as a Cossack because of their history of being imperialistic hands for the Russian Empire, while also being victims of it. I stress it, even. I try my best to tread the history and terms, but a short blog can only touch upon so much. Serhii Plokhy is a great Ukrainian writer who has some of this subject in English to research with.

Russian

To address first and foremost, comes the ethnic background the vast majority of fans (and the other characters in the series) ascribe to Vasily – an ethnic Russian. There’s not much information I need to corroborate regarding why exactly one might find Vasily to be ethnically Russian, and it is the easiest background for him to tread if you wish to play it safe regarding headcanons if you don’t know much about Russian history. He is, after all, assumed Russian by the other characters in the series.

Vasily, given his first name and appearance, has no contradictory elements to him being Russian. His first name, Vasily, is one typically only ethnic Russians use, but we'll discuss this further in a bit. He speaks Russian in the show, though a large portion of non-Russian ethnicities do sometimes speak Russian even during the imperial era. Visually, he has an appearance typical of an ethnic Russian and is found to be in a WWI Russian Imperial Army (RIA) uniform – though I’d like to add there was mandatory conscription for most all males in Russia starting in 1874. This means that a more than just ethnic Russians were conscripted into the army, and some ethnicities, such as Jews, had a higher conscription comparitively rate at times. So, regardless of ethnicity, typically most men who resided within the empire could be conscripted into the army, give or take some exceptions. I'd like to note that one time we see Vasily without his shinel (greatcoat), he’s wearing a non-issued gimnasterka, a military style of shirt based upon Russian kosovorotka. It was rather common for soldiers to replace their issued gimnasterka with their own version, and Vasily seems to have replaced his.

(Pictured Vasily’s gimnasterka.)

Vasily’s birthplace, Yeleninka, was, and still is, in Russia, though there was a number of other non-Russian ethnicities living in the Orenburg district in 1897. He also never bothers to correct other characters that call him Russian either. Though, this could also be in part that he either could no longer speak at all after being shot, he didn’t find worth in arguing about it, he still identified as being Russian as his nationality even if his ethnicity was not Russian.

But, regarding Vasily’s clothing, there are some major inconsistencies beginning with the fact Noda clearly had little idea about the Russian uniform or military organization in 1907.

To begin with: an ethnic Russian being a border guard was unusual. Not impossible, by any means, but not exactly the norm. Border guards at the time were found to be one of two categories: Cossacks (I will be discussing them later) or a specialized military unit called the Special Border Guard Corps (SBGC). While Cossacks were typical to find as border guards, and oftentimes had their own separate units from ordinary military units, you often could find ethnic Russians in the SBGC, though border protection more often than not belonged to Cossacks in the Far East. You might also find the occasional ethnic Russians serving as a Cossack out East, but again, this will be further discussed below as to what that meant.

Neither Cossacks nor the SBGC wore the uniform Vasily and the other members of his unit are found in. In fact, technically the RIA did not either, as the uniforms of Vasily and his comrades are WWI uniform designs, as I mentioned briefly above. It's important to note here, however, Sakhalin was not monitored by the SBGC in 1907 as there was a lack of funds, and as such Cossacks exclusively guarded that border. An argument can be made, however, that normal RIA members also helped in guarding the border since it had not been long since the Russo-Japanese War had ended, and stragglers to protect that specific border with Japan was warranted. I mention the SBGC for those that might wish to find justification for Vasily being in the corps and on the border somehow.

It’s far harder to pinpoint Vasily’s outfit had he been a Cossack, namely because he could have been in several different uniforms depending on which voisko (AKA a Host – think of these as state/territory distinctions between Cossacks residences) he originated from. To be a Cossack on the Sakhalin border, he could have been from a number of different voisko that created the East Siberian District that together covered Sakhalin. Simply though, no Cossack uniform matched the uniform Vasily canonically wears either. Nor does it match the uniforms of the RIA at the time.

So what uniform is Vasily found to be wearing, then? His outfit is a generic foot soldier uniform of low-ranking members of the RIA, lacking any tags to denote which unit Vasily prevails from entirely. However, the bulk of the uniform Vasily is found in was introduced in the year 1907 (in reality, 1909 when the changes finally took place) by order of complete uniform overhaul by Nicholas II, but other elements come from post-1910 reforms seen most typically in use during WWI. Given Vasily being in the Far East, it would be rather unusual for Vasily to wear a newly-issued uniform such as the one he’s found in, and because these uniforms did not actually take effect until 1909. How would a soldier presumably on a remote border have such a newly printed uniform (albeit, anachronistic in some aspects such as his Papakha being from a 1910 reform)?

All of this culminates into a couple of pieces of important information regarding Noda. (1) He was entirely unaware that the regular military did not cover borders, and instead it was the job of Cossacks and the SBGC. (2) He intentionally avoided pertinent information on Vasily’s uniform and gave him a generic one from the very year Russian uniforms were massively changed lasting until the Revolution. In fact, Noda had made edits to Vasily’s uniform between the original release of his appearance, and the volume releases, meaning he wasn’t thorough in depicting the Russian soldiers. (3) To culminate most of this, Noda had simply cobbled together information that created Vasily to be versatile for several different headcanons, not just as an ethnic Russian.

There is a reason why most fans label Vasily as ethnically Russian, aside from general lack of knowledge on the subject, but in that same vein much of the evidence that he is ethnically Russian can be refuted in the same breath. Regardless, it's a headcanon to choose if one wished.

Ukrainian

While Vasily’s silence and the series text tell one story about his background, his name itself tells another. Specifically, his surname! ‘Vasily’ is found typically upon Russians and those who want to Russify themselves while 'Vasyl' is the Ukrainian equivalent, but his surname, Pavlichenko, is distinctly Ukrainian and not Russian. His father’s family, at the very least, had to have been of Ukrainian origin. It would be up to interpretation if his mother was also Ukrainian, but it does not conflict history to state his family could have moved from the regions of Ukraine after the abolishment of serfdom to different areas, or had been forcefully relocated as was common in Imperial Russia. Being leased onto Cossack land to farm in the Orenburg voisko, where Yeleninka was located, was common for laborers and poorer non-Cossack locals. An ethnic Ukrainian being found in Yeleninka is not as outlandish as one might think and is entirely plausible, as a portion of the Orenburg district was, indeed, 2.6% Ukrainian (about 3.4% when not accounting for Turk ethnicities) by language. They were the fourth largest ethnicity in this district behind Russians, Bashkirs, and Tatars. However, the 1897 census only calculated ethnicity by first language, so the true ethnically Ukrainian population would have been higher, as some might not have spoken Ukrainian as a first language due to imperialistic pressures. And, as discussed in the previous section, when assuming how an ethnic Russian was a border guard, the same logic can apply to a Ukrainian simply being in the RIA.

It’s difficult to explain away Vasily’s surname without him being, in part, Ukrainian. But again, part of this information likely comes from Noda’s lack of research into Russian history. Vasily’s last name is taken from a famous sniper, Lyudmila Pavlichenko, just as Vasily’s first name and birthplace are taken from another sniper, Vasily Zaitsev. Despite her last name being Ukrainian, though it was a married name, Lyudmila is often regarded as a ‘Soviet’ sniper and she is indeed Russian. It is due to this, Noda was likely unaware that (1) Her name came from her husband and (2) ‘Pavlichenko’ is actually a Ukrainian surname. Her popularized name is the Ukrainian Pavlichenko, not her maiden Russian name of Belova.

Vasily's first name not being the Ukrainian variation of 'Vasyl' could be explained by that stated mixed heritage. However, it was also not uncommon for Ukrainians in the past to go by a russified name. For example, the famous writer Nikolai Gogol's true name is actually Mykola Hohol – his name is often russified. Vasily could very well have chosen to start going by a Russian first name while in the army, or had it changed for him, as it was not uncommon for well-known Ukrainians to have these double names.

If you’re a stickler to the specifics despite Noda’s intention, Vasily’s Ukrainian surname cannot be argued against as easily as many of the ethnic Russian factors for him. Whether that means you’d find Vasily to be exclusively Ukrainian, or a mix, that is up to one’s own headcanon and interpretation.

Orenburg Cossack

Cossacks are a very long and convoluted subject in Eastern European history, but I will do my best to explain this as clearly as I can without dredging into too much history. First, and most important to remember, is that ‘Cossack’ was not necessarily always a distinct ethnic identity from other ethnicities within the Empire. But it was an ethnic identity to some.

The Cossacks first emerged from various ethnic backgrounds in the area that is now modern day Ukraine. They culminated into existence as different groups fled from varying situations they found themselves in and drew into banditry together. Ukrainians (or Ruthenians, as was the more popular term in the 16th-18th century) and eventually Russians fleeing serfdom, Poles fleeing the hetmans, those of Turk background such as Tatars, etc., all became a hodgepodge group called ‘Cossacks’ in that area of modern-day Ukraine and parts of Southwestern modern-day Russia. Over time, this group obtained special privileges from Imperial Russia, then Muscovy, in return for their extensive military service. Cossacks in said original area began to develop into an ethnic identity separate from Russians, Ukrainians, and Turks. Their own culture was Slavic mixed with Turkish culture – distinctly blended so they did not identify as one or the other. This was not always the case, and often the further back in history you go, the more often you would find Cossacks who identified with an ethnic identity outside of Cossackhood. You might often hear the term 'Ukrainian Cossack' in reference to Zaporozhian Cossacks because of this, as many of these Cossacks would have identified as being kin to Ruthenians (now Ukrainians) rather than having a distinct ethnic Cossack identity. But, later in the empire, certain Cossack groups did distinguish themselves as ethnically different from the Russians, Ukrainians, and other Slavic groups in the area.

However, because of these special privileges given to them by the Russian Empire, a legal definition of a Cossack had to be applied to persons. Due to this, as Cossack voiskos began forming further East into Siberia where the Russian government wanted Cossacks stationed, they would often bestow the title of ‘Cossack’ to people living in certain areas who ethnically had no connection to Cossacks, or even Slavs, whatsoever. This created situations where those who did not want to be involved in the military were now legally obligated to give military service, and it was now possible to find even ethnically Chinese Cossacks in Eastern voiskos. A Cossack had become both an ethnic identity and a legal title to be bestowed, though the vast majority of Cossacks in the west of the empire still remained those of the ethnic background.

To summarize, Cossacks found in Western Imperial Russia sometimes regarded themselves as distinctly different ethnically from other groups (Russians, Ukrainians, Kalmyks), such as with Don, Kuban, and Ural Cossacks. This is often exemplified in Russian Literature (although written by those who are romanticizing the Cossacks) where it is highlighted that Cossacks consider themselves a separate ethnicity from those around them. However in the more Eastern voisko, while it was possible to find Cossacks who believed themselves ethnically Cossack, sometimes being a Cossack was simply a legal title and held no other cultural or ethnic significance. It’s also, I believe, important to note that Cossacks were often the hands of Russian imperialism in both Siberia and the Caucasus. While Cossacks were sometimes victims of the empire, as the military might of that same empire they also contributed greatly to its imperialism. There is a fine line to walk regarding their history, and I highly suggest researching them beyond this blog.

Now, in regards to Vasily, border guards were often Cossacks in Imperial Russia, as it was one of their duties when not in an active military turn. This immediately gives him claim to potentially being a Cossack, as you could choose to headcanon him as a Cossack border guard rather than a simple RIA soldier sent to the border to stop the “Tsar’s Assassin”. But, specifically, Sakhalin was only guarded officially by Cossacks until the succession of the Soviets. Now, as stated above, Vasily was far more likely to consider himself ethnically Cossack (which would explain a Ukrainian last name, but not consider himself Ukrainian due the blended nature of Cossacks) if he was from a voisko further West. But Sakhalin was one of the Eastern-most points in Russia, and lacked a specific voisko to cover it. Instead, a group called the East Siberian District chose to cover Sakhalin, which was a collection of different voisko. If one was to headcanon Vasily as being a Cossack from any of these Eastern voisko, it’d be much easier to state several things at once: (1) Vasily is legally a Cossack and (2) Vasily considers himself to be ethnically Cossack, Ukrainian, Russian, or whatever else one might choose to headcanon him as. The only background you cannot headcanon such things in conjunction are legally Cossack and religiously Jewish for a number of reasons discussed further below. Nonetheless, if an ethnic Jew converted, they could indeed be dubbed a Cossack. Antin Krzyzhanovsky is a historical figure notable for doing this.

But, let us backtrack, as there is further evidence to Cossack Vasily beyond his occupation as a border guard. Yeleninka was located in the Orenburg voisko, and those who resided in Yeleninka were legally considered Cossacks. In fact, regardless of headcanon purposes, when following only factual history and no conjecture, Vasily should have been legally a Cossack if he had been born in Yeleninka itself (if born outside the town or if he moved there young, he could’ve been considered a non-Cossack living in the area. Certain ethnicities like Jews and Kalmyks were exempt from the legal title being applied however). I’ve never found specific statistics regarding Yeleninka’s official ethnic makeup, but as for the Orenburg voisko as a whole: when the Orenburg voisko was created, the government supplanted several ethnic Cossacks in the area, but also legally defined some ethnically Russian (+ Ukrainians), Tatar, Mordvin, and Chuvash persons living in the area into Cossacks as well. I have not seen Ukrainians mentioned in the formation of the Orenburg voisko, but at this time the government often did not see “Little Russians” (Ukrainians) as being separate from “Great Russians” (Russians) beyond linguistics. Thus, one could easily consider Vasily ethnically Cossack, or instead consider him to be one of the other ethnicities previously mentioned while only a Cossack in legal title.

To return back to the discussion about Sakhalin coverage, Yeleninka’s existence in the Orenburg voisko does, in fact, line up with history correctly, though I’m sure Noda was not aware of this. Orenburg was a voisko part of the East Siberian District, and it is entirely plausible Vasily would have been stationed on the border because of that. Though it would have been more likely for a further east voisko to send soldiers to that specific border, but not impossible because Orenburg was part of the East Siberian District.

Ussuri Cossack

Now, the Ussuri Cossack headcanon hinges upon everything I’ve just said above regarding Orenburg Cossacks. Whether or not Vasily is considered ethnically or legally Cossack matters little, only that he is simply titled an ‘Orenburg Cossack’ at the time of his birth, which he otherwise legally should’ve been if he was born in Yeleninka.

As mentioned, the Ussuri voisko was the voisko found furthest East – and because of that, it was the voisko that supplanted the most Cossacks to Sakhalin. However, there is indeed precedent for an Orenburg Cossack becoming an Ussuri Cossack. While it was notoriously difficult for Cossacks (and peasants in general) to transfer between districts in the empire, starting in the 1890s, after a large famine hit the Orenburg voisko the hardest, the government began supporting Orenburg Cossacks in moving to the Ussuri voisko.

So, in essence, Vasily could have been born in Yeleninka, legally considered a Cossack, and then moved to be raised in the Ussuri voisko as an Ussuri Cossack, allowing for a more probable likeness for him to have been stationed at the Sakhalin border. Because of how devastating the famine was to the Orenburg voisko, movement to the Ussuri voisko was a fairly popular choice for some Cossacks. Ussuri Cossacks also had a reputation for being particularly reckless and wild towards the government, often taking bribes and helping smuggle items far more often in comparison to other Cossacks. This might lend to why Vasily so easily deserts the army, though in general it was far more common for soldiers from Siberia to desert in comparison to soldiers from the rest of the empire.

Mordvin (Moksha & Erzya) + Belarusian + Polish

To get out of the way an important piece of information: I am going to use the term ‘Mordvin’ for ease. However, Mordvin is an umbrella term referring to two distinct, but related, ethnic groups known as the Moksha and Erzya. Think of it like the term ‘Slav’ in reference to Poles and Russians.

Aside from Vasily’s place of birth – Yeleninka – and its place in the Oreburg host, there’s not much other specific evidence towards Vasily being Mordvin. There was a decently large population of Mordvins in the Orenburg district, about 2.4% linguistically, the 5th largest language group in the area, and quite a few of them were also legally deemed Cossacks as well. And, while that is the little info I have (mostly because there is very little information involving Mordvins published in English and even Russian), no other information would contradict him being Mordvin either aside from his Ukrainian last name. But, of course, his last name can always be explained as mixed marriage in the past.

Similarly, such same logic applies to Belarusian and Polish headcanons for Vasily. They were 0.14% and 0.11% linguistically spoken as first languages in the Orenburg district as well. There’s not much more to add beyond the extra logical tidbits I’ve discussed that could also apply here. While not historically backed up heavily, it’d have been a fascinating headcanon for Vasily to be ethnically Polish and for him to interact with Asirpa.

Turkish

I’ll quickly preface that Vasily being full-blooded Turkish is highly unlikely. But I wanted to at least mention that it wouldn’t be uncommon for him to be a quarter or half Turkish. The reason why is that during the Russo-Turkish War during the 1860s, Cossacks often brought Turkish brides back to Russia with them after the end of the war. Given that Cossacks already have some mix of Turkic culture, they were partial to bringing these women back with them, though I must stress this was typically not done consensually. Regardless, if one is running with the idea that Vasily is a Cossack, his parents being mixed Turkish or a grandmother of his being fully Turkish is completely plausible.

Jewish

I’m going to attempt this as respectfully as I can, as it would be remiss of me not to entertain the idea of Vasily being Jewish because Jews were a significant population of the Russian Empire. Nonetheless, the facts stack against this headcanon, but I want to lay them out for clarity’s sake as perhaps the info is useful to someone attempting to work with the headcanon. The history of Jews in Russia is quite extensively plotted in academia, and though I’ve read a couple papers and books about it, I could very well be missing important information. Please feel free to correct me.

First and most importantly: Vasily could not have been a Cossack and religiously Jewish. If, perchance, he was only ethnically Jewish but his family kept this information completely hidden or they openly converted to Orthodoxy, then he could’ve been legally defined as a Cossack. But otherwise, Jews were never given the legal title, and even ethnic Jews who had converted to Orthodoxy were heavily discriminated against by other Cossacks. While I’ve never found a specific law mentioned against legally defining Jews as Cossacks, there are social issues to consider. Cossacks, particularly ethnic ones, were notorious in their violence against Jews in the empire and had a long history of using them as scapegoats in political matters. They instigated and typically were the ones who committed pogroms against Jews. If a Jew was to gain the legal title of ‘Cossack’, there would not have been a particularly peaceful outcome to such a situation. Thus, to be religiously Jewish, Vasily must have only been in the RIA which did allow religious Jews.

Next, Vasily’s last name, Pavlichenko, can be explained. While a significant portion of Jews in Russia had Germanic (Yiddish) last names (and ordinarily first names as well), they sometimes had Slavic names. Given that Pavlichenko is Ukrainian as well, it is actually more favorable than him having a Russian last name – Jews in Russia were majority confined to an area called the Pale. The Pale covered what is now modern day Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, Lithuania, and a bit of Latvia. If he was to have a non-Germanic surname, it was more likely to have originated from one of these areas, such as Ukraine, hence him more likely to have a Ukrainian last name than a Russian one.

Unfortunately, discussion of the Pale leads into a major problem concerning Vasily: Jews were restricted to this area. A handful of Jews could be found in major cities of European Russia if they were artisans or merchants, as they were allowed to legally reside in these cities when given permits*. For example, about 4000 Jews resided in Moscow around 1900. However, this only extended to major cities just outside the Pale. Upon my research into the Orenburg district, a 1897 census survey finds a grand total 4 Jews living in the entirety of the Oblast. Though I will say, upon reading other papers, there is mention of a single Jewish Cheder in Orenburg that supported 20 students. This hints that perhaps there were more Jews living in Orenburg than the official census denotes, but not by much. Of course, as stated with the Cossack background, there are ways around this statistic. Vasily could be ethnically Jewish, but his family hid this fact and became baptized in order to live outside the Pale and major cities.

Finally, if Vasily had been Jewish, it would’ve been strange he didn’t bring up this fact to the Japanese cast. During the Russo-Japanese War, Japan was heavily funded by wealthy American Jews who despised Russia for their strict, antisemitic laws and their recent pogroms. Because of this, Japan was especially favorable towards Jews and during the war would often separate Jewish POWs from the other Russian military POWs, giving them better treatment. To this point, Jews often wanted to stay in Japan because of how well they were treated by the Japanese. I’m unsure exactly how long this favorable view lasted, but it is not remiss to believe as close post-war as Golden Kamuy is, this favorable stance would still hold. Instead of viewing Vasily as an annoying “Russian”, he very well could’ve used his Jewish background to cement himself a more favorable disposition from the Japanese cast.

*There were some Jews living outside the Pale, but not significant numbers. The Georgian and Central Asian Jews of Iranian background were allowed to reside outside the Pale in their areas of origin. There were also some Siberian Jewish communities created by Jews who had been exiled into Siberia, but none of these communities were particularly close to Yeleninka.

End Note

I’ll end this on a note that, with all this information laid out, I only wish to encourage people to choose what they personally feel drawn to for Vasily’s background. While some headcanons have more evidence than others, each has their own difficulties with history in ways, as Noda accidentally contradicted much of the information he applied to Vasily. I hope this encourages more people to do research into the history here – which I think is especially needed if you intend to headcanon Vasily as a Cossack, even if you are headcanoning him to be a ethnically non-Cossack, but legally defined under the title. But a mix of ethnic background is entirely possible for Vasily according to just the factual history, so restricting him to one ethnic identity isn’t needed if one does not wish.

Personally, I often write and draw Vasily as being half Ukrainian half Russian, though in my actual preference I find him to be an ethnic Cossack that was raised in the Ussuri voisko. However, I feel when I present him as a Cossack I want nuance following it, so I’ve never bothered to draw or write him as such beyond a couple sketches. I hope this post encourages some of you to look more into the history here!

#golden kamuy #vasily pavlichenko #not art #sorry for the long post ive been waiting to yap about this forever

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crocswithoutsocks · 7 months ago

Text

What do cogs eat in Toontown: Corporate Clash?

I'm doing research for a fic and have been scrounging the wiki for this information so I thought I'd compile my findings as a nice organised tumblr post in case anyone else needs access to this very specific part of the lore. There's actually a lot more than I thought there would be! If I've missed anything, feel free to add! The definitive list will be way at the bottom of the post if you just want the cold hard facts.

Section A - Foodstuffs that have a lot of evidence pointing towards their consumption by cogs.

Oil - Massive evidence for this in both Derrick Man and the CEO battle. Heals suits in Derrek Man, and seems to be their preferred food given its literally the only thing being served at the banquet? Maybe more of a beverage than a food? Still makes the list either way. Different varieties of oil are also mentioned, including carbonated/seltzer oil (from the Director's Cuts ARG andHigh Roller's trivia questions) and crude oil (discussed further below).

Cogfee (Coffee) - Cogfee is mentioned all the time. There's promotional art of Chip promoting cogfee, and his secretary also requests a new cogfee machine in the April Toons ARG. Cathal and Brian have also both delivered/refused to deliver cogfee to Allan, respectively. The Toxic Manager also gives the Insider a cup of Cogfee in the Director's cuts ARG, and there's probably even more examples of cogs drinking cogfee that I haven't included here. It's also worth a mention that Jennifer's favourite drink is a soyl mechiatto, which I would have assumed to be the cog equivalent of a machiatto with soya milk, but the fact that High Roller's trivia question on the subject makes a distinction between soyl mechiatto and cogfee mechiatto makes me doubt that the soyl one contains cogfee at all. Alas, I don't know enough about actual coffee to be able to tell you if you can even make a machiatto without coffee.

Cookies - Most of the evidence for this comes either directly or indirectly from Belle. Evidence for suits eating cookies comes from Belle's interview notes, the 1.3 blog post, the comic with Flint and Belle baking, and the C.O.O's 2023 dialogue. These also provide other things suits can eat in the form of cookie flavours: charcoal, ginger tar and crude morsels. I don't know if ginger tar is ginger flavoured tar or a variety of tar called "ginger tar", so that's up for interpretation. As far as I can tell, all three seem to function as a chocolate chip substitute, but could also possibly be replacing things like fruit or nuts in the cookies. The only non-Belle-related cookie evidence comes from the Director's Cuts ARG, where the Middleman gives the Insider a plate of crude oil cookies. I assume the crude oil used in these is a different thing than the crude morsels in the C.O.O's cookies, and I can't really identify what crude oil is supposed to be a subsitute for food-wise since it appears multiple times in different contexts.

Sandwiches and assorted ingredients - Cathal eats a sandwitch halfway through his battle, and you can't really get evidence more definitive than that. The wiki says it's specifically ham and cheese, and looking at his renders I can see that probably. In the 1.3 key art, he's got a different sandwich that looks like lettuce and tomato, so from Cathal alone, bread, ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato can be added to the list of things suits eat.

Ketchup - This is really a subsection of the last category given tomatoes have already been confirmed, but Count Erclaim steals 'Chup from Rocky on multiple occasions (notably the 'Halloween Hater comic') and Cathal also has two bottles of it in his office. There are also a concerningly high number of ketchup bottles inthe Mozzerella Styx freezer. So... Ketchup. Interestingly enough, the ad for Mozzerella Styx on High Roller's website lists 'Chup as a drink, so maybe its a suit beverage? Sure, why not.

Water - The existence of the water cooler attack implies that cogs can and do drink water, and it's also listed as an available drink three times on Mozzerella Styx's menu, as 'water', 'dihydrogen monoxide' and 'corporate water supply'. They also drink sparkling water/seltzer/carbonated water, whatever you want to call it, since Jennifer asks where she's supposed to keep her sparkling water after Spruce takes a bite out of her desk, and seltzer is one of the available options in the Mozzerella Styx drinks machine.

Cereal - Dave buys 500 boxes of cereal in the April Toons ARG. The picture identifies the cereal as 'Oil-o-Flakes', but the description says they're 'corn flakes', soooo... corn confirmed? Maybe?

Pizza - You'd think this one would be easy, given the fact that literally the only cog owned restaurant is a pizzeria, but the fact that Mozzerella Styx is a front kind of raises the question of whether they actually serve food there. Either way though, Count Erclaim orders a "none pizza with left beef" in one of his monologues, and even if his pizza is a meme it's still a pizza, and Erclaim is still a cog that's probably going to eat it. Oh. Also beef then, I guess.

The sustenance page on the gopher version of cogs.ink gets a special mention because I forgot about it completely and then felt like I'd struck gold when I stumbled back upon it. Things mentioned on this page that aren't already on the list include:

Coal, petrol-marinated beet and diamond dust inside a sandwich called the 'Money Christo'.

Sides include crispy steel bits, extra crude oil and gas-infused triple-fried coal.

Coal again, Turpentine Ansoff Jelly and Oxalic Acid patties, all of which are considered breakfast (or, deskfast, as the page says) foods.

Carbon carbonara, made with only the finest eggs and crude oil (but what ingredient can be used in cookies and also in carbonara?).

Canned bread (WHY IS IT IN A CAN?) and kerosene dip.

Compressed fish

Strawberry Daigou, which is a dessert according to the description, and also contains the allergen 'red'. I didn't know suits could be allergic to anything until now.

SODIMM SOda

Section B - Things that I'm not certain on but I thought were still worth a mention.

Pie - Allan asks if the pies the toons are throwing at him "are imported blueberry", which implies that he's eaten both imported and non-imported blueberry pies before, to be able to tell the difference. Either that or he's been hit in the face so many times with both that he's now able to tell the difference, and he doesn't actually eat them. He can tell its blueberry though, which does suggest he's had those before and knows what they taste like. Given strawberries are already confirmed, its probably safe to say that cogs eat blueberries too.

Wood - Spruce, basically. He takes a bite out of Jennifer's table during his interview, says he's got at chomping trees in his personal statement and he's always got that log in his mouth. It's never really stated whether he actually eats the trees or just bites them, though. Also, eating trees feels very much like a Spruce thing, and not something any other suits would do. Like, they probably can eat wood, but would they want to?

Coins - Its mentioned in the cog building music backstage blog post that Dave ate 20,000 Cogbucks worth of quaters in the Cashbot mints. I'm confident this is a Dave exclusive thing and that no other cog would ever do this. I think.

Section C - Things that depend entirely on the validity of Mozzerella Styx as an actual cog restaurant.

Mozzerella Styx seems like it would be a veritable gold mine of information on cog food, but that actually depends on who Mozzerella Styx's target audience actually is. Mozzerella Styx's target audience is important because if they're trying to appear as a reputable toon resturaunt, then there's no gaurentee that cogs would even eat the things on their menu, as they would be toon foods rather than cog foods. The menu is weird though, since it definetly includes things that toons would never eat, like oil, which implies either that suits are intended to eat there or that whoever wrote the menu didn't know that toons can't drink oil. The menu does seem to be geared towards toons in some way, though, given the two 'toon drink here' options in the drinks section. Who are your target market, Mozzerella Styx??? And that's not even getting into if they even sell food there. The short with the two toons ordering a pizza implies that you can definetly order there, but the outcome of that short (the toons never getting any pizza) combined with the menu says 'pay upfront', 'product not gaurenteed' and 'no refunds' makes me incredibly doubtful that anyone has ever managed to successfully eat food from Mozzerella Styx (the fact that the toons are going here also suggests its a "toon" resturaunt. Or maybe they're just chill with going to a cog owned resturaunt? They definetly at least heard Styx over the phone). HOWEVER! The fact that the 1.4.0 patch notes say they're generating more money through pizza sales, combined with the (presumably paid for) ad on High Roller's website and the fact that they have actual pizza ingredients in the freezer makes me think that maybe they are actually running a resturaunt with real food on the side of all the money laundering? Perhaps? Either way, this big long ramble has acheived nothing, and I've got no idea if these foodstuffs are any more valid than I did at the start of it. Well then. If we're assuming that cogs do eat at Mozzerella Styx, for the sake of having more data, then everything on the menu can be added to the list. This includes:

Pineapple - The head huntin' hawaiian pizza, despite the pizza pictured under it not containing any pineapple, does make another appearance on a poster where pineapple is visible. There's no sauce, though. Why is there no sauce on this pizza. (Also, I'm going to remove pineapple from the 'Mozzerella Styx Clause', since Jennifer says in Buck's interview notes that he smells like pineapple, meaning she's eaten or at least smelled it before. Therefore, it's probably a valid suit food).

Nuts and bolts - The same poster with the hawaiian pizza also suggests you add [photo of nuts and bolts]. They aren't mentioned by name, but they sure are there!

New Year Cabbage

Salad - No idea what this salad contains, so I suppose every vegetable and other thing that could possibly be in a salad is up for debate. If you wanted to make it out of already confirmed salad stuff, it would probably be lettuce, tomato and beetroot.

Mushrooms - The picture of the aledgedly hawaiian pizza appears to have mushrooms on it, and mushroom pizza is also an option.

Broccoli - The alleged hawaiian pizza also has what I think is broccolli on it, and I really like broccoli so I'm adding it to the list.

Bread-sticks

Junior Executive Juice - I hope this is juice made for junior executives and not juice made out of junior executives

Ice cream cone - Not specified whether this is an ice cream cone as in 'its ice cream in a cone' or 'it's an ice cream cone with no ice cream'. I'll assume there's ice cream involved because it seems cruel to deprive these robots of ice cream.

Waffle cone

Traffic cone - I mean... it's on the menu?

Onions

Pine - Pine needles? Pine trees? Pineapples? We will never know

Jellybeans - I find it funny that these guys are just casually eating the toons' money. Maybe there's a difference between currency jellybeans and jellybeans for eating, but its still funny.

Soda Cold-a - The drink machine by the front counter actually provides a lot of new drinks that I'm specifically exempting from the 'Mozzerella Styx Clause' due to the fact that a) Toons definetly cannot drink half of this stuff and b) this drink machine for sure exists and probably does dispense all of these things. Available beverages not yet counted include antifreeze, diet oil, coolant, Cold-a and gas (which completes the C.O.G.S trifecta! Horray, suits can officially eat everything that C.O.G.S inc produces!)

Slushies - The slushie machine behind the counter appears to dispense slushy in flavours DRINK, Zap and BLUE. There are no cups present near this machine, only cones, which implies it could be a snow cone machine, but the ad on High Roller's website shows a cup with a straw labelled 'BLUE', so either they're drinking snow cone syrup or its a slushie machine.

Snow cones

Salt and pepper - There are salt and pepper shakers on all of the tables. Horray for seasonings! Why you would put those on a pizza I have no idea.

The List

Okay, I've probably missed something but here's my definitive list, colour coded, alphabetized and sorted for your convenience. Items in black are pretty much 100% confirmed, items in blue are speculative with not much evidence and items in green depend entirely on Mozzerella Styx's validity as a cog resturant.

Human safe foods:

Beef, Beetroot, Blueberries, Bread, Bread-sticks, Broccoli, Cabbage, Carbonara, Cereal, Cheese, Cookies, Corn, Eggs, Fish, Ginger(?), Ham, Ice cream, Jellybeans, Lettuce, Mushrooms, Onions, Pepper (the seasoning not the vegetable), Pie, Pineapple, Pizza, Salad, Salt, Sandwiches, Snow cones, Strawberries, Tomatoes (and derivitives ketchup and tomato sauce), Waffle cones.

Things humans should definetly not be eating:

Charcoal, Coal, Coins, Crispy steel bits, Crude morsels, Crude Oil, Diamond dust, Extra Crude Oil, Gas-infused triple-fried coal, Ginger tar, Kerosene, Nuts and bolts, Oxalic Acid Patties, Petrol, Pine, Traffic cones, Turpentine Ansoff Jelly, Wood.

Beverages:

Antifreeze, Carbonated oil, Cogfee, Cold-a, Coolant, Diet Oil, Gas, Juice, Ketchup(?), Oil, Slushies, SODIMM SOda, Soyl, Sparkling water/Seltzer, Water.

Unidentified:

red

All of these things can probably be broken down into their core ingredients, too, which would really expand the variety of foodstuffs on offer. Basically, cog food seems to be pretty similar to human food, just with a lot more metal and machine-stuff.

#yes im aware I spelt 'mozzerella' wrong #no im not going to fix it #ive spent far to long on this already #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #crocsyapping

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