#but I think that often creates the false pretense for some people that these shows are 'peak' when it comes to addressing their topics

[repurposedmeatlocker]

On one hand, I agree that there should be a more diverse field of subject matter utilized in "adult animation". Not all "adult animation" should be used as an excuse to revolve around shock content and gratuitous potty humor. At this point in time, stuff like this being seen on prime-time television is no longer out of the ordinary. And, from my observation, is done well even less frequently. There should be more films that treat themselves seriously and explore an array of topics rather than just comedy with a middle-school idea of mature subject matter.

ON THE OTHER HAND. I don't think there is ANYTHING wrong with animated movies and shows with lots of drugs and boobies and sex and gross jokes. I think cartoon characters having freaky sex is funny af. Both have the right to exist together. Art should not be pigeon-holed through a lens of "respectability" in order to be taken seriously. Demanding adult animation be "palatable" for an "adult" audience ultimately strips it completely of what makes it a unique medium for expression in the first place.

[whitefluffybearcub]

7/1/2023

— ego is a component of the human illusion realities. People often times argue with each other purely over their egos.

To see that they are really arguing over illusion is kind of amusing, if you see you understand.

Children in the play ground. They will grow and evolve.

— they all play with your emotions to control you and to summon a collective energy. Much Of you fall into it every time.

— those in the spot light, deemed the important and part of the elite, but from their eyes there is nothing but unhappiness and sadness. The contrast.

7/2/2023

— when humans are at their most desperate and weak moments, they would often times show their true characters, who they designated to be at some point in this journey.

—When one likes to focus on gossiping, blaming, and manipulating via deceit, they are also chipping away their own well-being. They do not realize how unhappy they are because of that.

— whatever you do in this karmic reality, there is always a ripple effect but rest assured it would always come back to you and yours, sometimes the longer it takes to come back, the bigger the ripple, whether it be good or bad karma.

— humans would go to a certain point and realize that if their hearts aren’t really in it, whatever it is it would eventually collapse, whether it is a day or a decade, because deep down they, the creators of their products, don’t even believe in it but just a tool to grab cash.

7/3/2023

— chasing hype after hype, it morphs into an addiction then it would never stop. Human nature is easily corrupted. They don’t want you to know of course.

— what if you found out what you needed all along is something simple, not anything over the top. The latter really is just wasted energy.

— be kind and be free of ego, all unconditionally, would be one of the ultimate human lessons and experiences.

7/4/2023

— karma would take place at a precise and the most profound moments so the spirit can learn about it and that these meaningful experiences would also pass on to the soul.

— if you are mindful enough, you would see that most arguments are just exchange Of ego or a repeat of ego but know that they are all meant to go through this.

Thanks for showing me this.

— karma would make sure the evil in this reality would reveal and expose itself one way or another, sooner or later. Some would choose to start healing then some would go even deeper and even lower with deceit.

The universe works in mysterious ways providing a designated path for all spirits and entities.

And the seemingly innocent who have fell victim to the evil, they also have karmic ties with it. Taken advantage in this chapter, take advantage in the next, and vice versa.

—the wars created by the big companies and rulers to profit from, to gain control of anything, to fulfill hidden agendas. All the loss of lives are blood on your hands and this would mean karmically and energetically. This concept applies to all groups of so called elites who seek mass wealth and control of every civilization.

If you choose to do this, know that you are willingly to play this game of karmic wheel.

— in this certain part of the world, you have to fake everything and ultimately you would find what you think happiness is, is also fake. False happiness lasts just for a minute and then you are back at pretending.

Is it worth it ? Only you can decide.

— the traits that one used to hate but slowly they also morph into exactly what they used to hate. They could not heal that extended karmic energy so they become it.

It is possible they might not be able to heal it at all In one lifetime. Their soul has a plan for them anyway. All In the designated destiny.

— this human world isn’t perfect but it has been designated this way. I am grateful because it is still more beautiful than anything else.

7/5/2023

— observe what one says or does because it would be a reflection of who they really are.

Pretense would not last, they would show their true color one way or another.

7/6/2023

— just observe. Each day you see tons of people who bow down to ego. Ego being their master, is dictating them what to do, how to feel, all not in a good way.

— when you live only for the camera, you create a void in your inner self. Your inner child does not care about social media or anything superficial.

— people who lie to you so you can be controlled, if you heed their words you are also walking on a path towards depression.

— the evil does not discriminate within all levels of evil. You see that the entities who think they are at the top of evil, also get sacrificed when their masters see fit.

That is what it is like to let it in and play with evil.

— the hype is never what it seems, otherwise it would not be a hype.

7/7/2022

— there will always be a steep price to pay for chasing fame, power, and ego.

— the human digital online world, is a similar replica of how fate and karma works, each deed is recorded and stored somewhere, it would come back to you somehow, somewhere, some day, good or bad.

I do hope you do good so there is good karma for you but ultimately it’s your experience and choice.

— everyone is acting strangely, everyone is guided to jump off the cliff. Some of them willingly, some aren’t.

Something in the water, something in the air, something in the food, what else could it be? You think.

— everything in this human world is ultimately for entertainment purposes. Don’t take it too seriously.

7/8/2023

— when you are tuned into the vibration and frequency of ego, you would never find genuine happiness because happiness is an energy that operates at a higher frequency.

Do follow ego and see what it is like but remember my words. True happiness happens when ego is properly released.

— in this point of human journey, the elites, the celebrities, the powerful, the high authority and the ultra wealthy would have all their deceit all exposed, and that their worshippers and followers would see the truth of what their energy really is.

It is a two way lesson, don’t you see, the exposed would have to start learning about integrity, morals, and compassion.

— the mindless would be easily sent on a trip of hysteria by words, drugs, fear, propaganda, experiment, manipulation, and other lowly ways. Many are made to fight each other but all orchestrated by the same hand. Karma applies to all, no discrimination.

Whether they wake up from it depends how they can elevate energetically but whatever happens it is still a part of their destiny and experience.

— when the denial sees the truth and knows that is the truth, it would first be very angry because they do not want to leave denial and face the truth. Just a matter of time.

— the games you play in this place.It is designed that you do not know all is an illusion .

— you would be very angry once you’ve found out you’ve been lied to. Instead of being destructive, Use that mighty anger to make things right, just, and fair and ultimately heal.

— some souls have designated that they pay for their karmic debt in private, some in the public. Rest assured, karma is with you no matter who you are, as long as you are in this frequency.

7/10/2023

— as glamorous as it can be on the outside, it is usually filled with insidious and overpowering darkness.

— ego would never lead one to the path of true happiness because happiness operates at a higher frequency. However you can choose to elevate energetically but you first have to rid of ego.

It is a lesson for all humans.

— when someone says “you can’t pay my price”, it just means that person is still willing to sell themselves with a more hefty price tag.

Ego In the land that is already rotten and corrupt.

— no matter who is running the show, it is just a circus. Might as well enjoy the show and have a good laugh. Everything and everyone is amusing in their own way if you see.

— there is endless decay in this world. You do not have to pay attention to any of it. The process of decay itself is an experience for the designated spirits.

Let them run their courses.

— each ego in this world serves a purpose and a lesson. Let it be and let it experience what it has been here to feel.

When ego serves no purpose to you anymore and you encounter another one, let them pass. You do not have to say or do anything, you do not even have to acknowledge it.

Let each ego run its course and serve its own destiny and experience.

Be mindful. Be quiet. Let them be.

— be calm. All is well.

— be reminded that the pain you inflict on someone, would always come back to you, may be in the same way, may be in different ways.

After all, We live in a karmic cycle reality.

Remember you make that choice.

— if not all, it is human nature to want to be greedy and selfish when they are seemingly infused with power and authority.

Know that they are also in a lesson of karmic cycle. What goes up must come down in this human world. They must learn firsthand and go through the highs and lows themselves.

— all of the celebrities, politicians, public influencers, and elites are all corrupt and can be brought for a price. If they do not agree, they are simply being rid of. A rule for being in that high club.

— power does corrupt a human mind because it leads to selfishness, greed, and more corruption.

7/12/2023

— humans react rather negatively when their ego is hurt. Observe carefully, see the ones who have the most overwhelming but sensitive ego but it is also part of their journey.

Do not buy into their ego.

Thanks for showing me.

— people who have big ego would get angry when they feel like they have to be right all the time,and that people around them can only say or do things exactly how they want.

Know that these people are highly unhappy in life, and can never be happy for too long because the next thing that is going to Piss them off is just around the corner, all the time. They do deserve your mercy and compassion the most.

After all, Your energy attract what happens to you and determines how you feel.

7/13/2023

— even the giants who seemingly are invincible, would fall due to its karmic debt. Each evil deed that earns bad karma would chip away at the giants from inside out and vice versa.

The universe is also showing you how this reality works. Observe mindfully.

— the human world is funny, in ways that are so ironic. Many are imprisoned and corrupted by their success, and that their success brings them so much unhappiness, sufferings, and struggles. In the tiring pursuit of always something greater and grander, they lose their balance.

It does not apply to all but to so many. The humans in this human world are never truly what they seem.

7/14/2023

— don’t get angry. Don’t hate. Don’t be egotistical.

to truly make peace and find compassion from within and unconditionally, you must first understand each other’s pain from their perspective.

What seems like a disorder reflected on the surface, it is rooted by unbearable pain deep down.

Fate would not have everyone be unconditionally loving, but it is by design for this reality.

Do the best you can. Instead of hatred and anger, Pray and Cheer for them to elevate.

— in order to find peace, one must first forgive from the heart.

— the ones you see and encounter, the ones brimming with ego, say nothing and do nothing, let their ego be their biggest teacher.

They will learn thru their own ways even if you say or do absolutely nothing.

7/15/2023

— playing low vibrational games, your only outcome would of course be low vibrational. Even if you didn’t know, you’ll learn.

7/16/2023

— remember, fear, greed, corruption, and ego would never lead one to true happiness and genuinely love.

One must make that choice, And it shall be their journey.

— the only just law and order In this reality is karma, meticulously and precisely enforced by the soul of the universe.

If you eyes are open, you’ll see.

— the humanly games you play in this realm. The rules are not truly set by man because man themselves are the players no matter who they are in this world.

The rules are set by karma at the courtesy of the soul of the universe. An unbiased balance enforcer.

— the ones want you to rid of your integrity, are the ones dragging you down with them. It is the role they play.

Do you want to go down? It is your choice and journey.

— when anyone who wants you to refer them as god like and isn’t an equal as you, just know that you are witnessing a very big ego who is on an big egotistical trip. It is nothing more than an ego, and is definitely not something you should worship as a god.

Just saying.

7/17/2023

— when the mainstream media is pushing for something, it would be everywhere you see. It is never what it seems. Seemingly innocent and fun but there is a propaganda behind it, usually not for the good of mankind.

It is just how humans are in this reality. Be mindful.

— the evil that you push, enable, protect and harbor, it would also one day turn on you and bring you much troubles. Rules according to karma.

— always beware of the ones who use fear to gain attention, to control, and to fulfill selfish agendas. They all operate at a low frequency.

— every human’s relationship with Mother Nature is karmic. the bad you have done to Mother Nature for your greed, your agenda, your manipulation, all of it would come back to you and yours. If you have hurt Mother Nature, get ready to be hurt. Burn and be burned. Harm and be harmed. Kill and be killed.

— the universe would show everyone that no politicians, no governments, no known elite groups are truly in control, they are puppets that follow orders from the back hand.

And it is in karma’s plan that the hands would tire and lose everything. Their lesson would be about the limitations in this reality as the same as everyone else. There is a lesson for ego.

No one within this reality can cheat or bypass karma and fate. It knows everything and guides to balance in its mysterious and just ways.

— every human is mesmerized by the smoke of super wealthy and famous, little do they know that it is just a playground for the ultra evil. If they insist on playing in this place, they would eventually find that out but they won’t be able to shake off the disease that comes with this evil playground.

Best of luck.

7/19/2023

— where they are coming from, how they are linked, what stages they are on,and what they are trying to be along with their actions and words, that’s pretty much all you have to know in order to determine what characters and roles they would be playing in this reality.

— when it is everywhere and promoted by the mainstream constantly, it is most likely a propaganda and a psychological operation, all man made. By now it should be easy to spot for the most. Keep your wits about you my love.

It is nothing more or less than how this reality goes.

7/20/2023

— the words and actions of truly caring and pure fear do carry different energy. No matter how much manipulation is used to disguise fear as caring, the energy could not be manipulated. The karma would balance it somehow someway.

— some people would destroy their reputation and name over greed, corruption, ego, and power.

There would be no coming back from that of a ruined image. They could heal but it only starts with something purely genuine. Or they could get even lower by keep deceiving.

7/21//2023

— everyone chooses their games to play in this reality. Everyone and everything is meant to be.

To judge another’s game just because you don’t see from their perspective, is also egotistical.

I now understand. Let them be. Thank you for showing me.

— when you have time to sit in a room with only yourself in any shape or form, you can think and see with clarity, calm thoughts, and mindfulness, then you can be honest with yourself. I hope you would eventually choose to heal, do all the genuine things and be absolutely genuinely happy. I want that for all of the beings here.

— the games you choose to play in this reality. Please learn well and find peace from them. That is all there to it. All temporary. Be compassionate and kind with yourself and others. I wish you love no matter what.

— each being here is to fulfill a purpose, to learn a lesson, to balance karma, even when they are not aware while being here.

— the adored stars, the famed, the elites, would have to give up genuine self respect, ethnics, and love to have that bright light shine on them, but only to become a disposable tool and sacrifice at some point.

All in the pact they signed up for.

7/23/2023

— each and all means something, and it is why they come into this reality. No matter what you’ve chosen, I send you love so that Love would be available to you always in this place if and when you choose to want to experience genuine love. If there is genuine will, there is a genuine way. That is the only way to go about genuine love.

— Sending love to our mighty Mother Nature. May you protect and restore in your greatest glory. Thank you so much for carrying and providing on infinite of earth beings.

— each expression in this realm is meant to be, accordingly to its frequency, is a part of this story and journey.

— the events in this reality itself are also trying to explain away how being in this reality works.

Many humanly events here are illusion based, and they are small pieces of this bigger puzzle piece which is also an illusion as a whole. First man made but the latter is by the soul.

— this world needs all of its characters so it can play out the story that the soul has designed. Each character and expression has its own experiences and knowledge.

All of everyone and everything in here is temporary and ultimately just an illusion.

7/24/2023

— what you consider weird but very usual for a certain population in a different nation is merely just perspective and perception.

People like to judge because human are infused with ego.

—love, non- love, and everything in between, all on track in this life.

— karma is energy that restores itself. From wrong to right, from lies to truths, from bad to good, from low to elevated. This reality is basically just karma with expressions, knowledge, lessons , and experiences.

7/25/2023

— all of the cat and mouse games end the same way but each pursuit is different. They must take place because it is destined to, for the designated reasons.

7/26/2023

—this human world presents its inhabitants an invisible karmic wheel, some like to climb down, some try to climb up, each to their own experience, expression, and lesson.

— in the human realms, the distractions are to divert your attention to what is truly important. What the big mouth speaks of is mainly just distractions.

Big mouth makes sure everyone hears but you do not have to listen, especially to the distractions.

— hello hurt, cruel, corruption, ego, and hatred. At some point I have learned to thank you because you have provided lessons that are otherwise impossible if it wasn’t for this human frequency, and as you are designated for this dimension.

7/28/2023

— hello karma, do your things 😊 ❤️ 😊

— hello karma, do your thing. Work that magic. Teach, re-balance, and make things right and just. Be creative and mysterious while at it.

—Karma is a consistent and persistent energy within the human worlds. Sometimes instant, sometimes not. Sometimes one life, sometimes extensions and multiples. Only the mindful can see. You reap what you sow. A cosmic rule.

7/29/2023

— this human world consists mainly of smoke and mirrors. It has been made that way. one has to keep their wits about them. How they would fare in this world, and how genuinely happy they could be, it all depends on themselves and their intelligence of both emotional and intellectual.

— the pain that you could not heal, that you’ve harbored , suppressed, numbed and tried to pass it or take it out on someone else. It still stays with you.

If you acknowledge it and you can try to heal, and eventually you can release it without hurting yourself and others. Would that be a choice for you, most definitely.

7/30/2023

— everything in this perceptive realm, which gives the illusions and influences, are all connected one way or another. Everything and everyone.

— when the wicked speak and praise another wicked, it is kind of fun to watch because you could tell they both actually really hate each other. It happens in the most privileged parties periodically. They put on a show for their own.

— karma is balance. This reality can not be without karma and balance. Karma helps one elevate, otherwise some would just keep going down.

7/31/2023

— there are bullies And it is a reflection of painful ego. At some area, perhaps unseen, these bullies encounter other egos in which make them feel worthless. They pass on that pain as a bully to others but the pain is never healed.

— in this reality, good or bad determines how happy you are with your conscience, and ultimately your karma.

— personally the most genuine people I have come across always want you to think for yourself. No forced beliefs or overwhelming fear. Fear is a currency for control.

— the face that you always want to look at. Something special in their energy, but I choose to release that karma.

— something has to break so that the healing can enter and help elevated the energy. Karma would make sure of it as this reality is ruled by karma.

— when entities within this reality have no more purpose and has no chance in elevate energetically, it would then cease to exist in this world. It would then be sent to another dimension for its further journey.

— one day your humanly blind folds would fall off and that you would have learned how to elevate your energy and spirit via good karma. Until then my love, play well.

[questionablygourmet]

Will Graham contains multitudes (and that’s a good thing)

Okay, I’ve been seeing a lot of edgelord meta takes on Will, lately*, and it’s bugging me enough as a phenomenon that I want to briefly address some common themes I’m seeing in them, and hopefully provide some food for thought as people continue to rewatch and write about the show. 

Will has indeed made a career out of his understanding of, and fascination with, violence.  He does explicitly admit to enjoying violence that he’s enacted (and sometimes the thought of violence he might enact), and a lot of his onscreen connection with Hannibal is centered on this mutual fascination and appreciation.  

However.

We are also explicitly told and shown, repeatedly, that not all violence is created equal, to Will.  That he has to juggle substantial, sometimes severe, amounts of fear along with that fascination and that understanding.  That he clearly sympathizes with the victims of violence that he considers unjust (even when they are also, themselves, perpetrators - Christopher, Abigail, Georgia, and to a lesser extent Peter).

In the pilot episode they’d barely begun to scratch the surface of what the show would become (given that Bryan Fuller literally started re-writing season 1 on the fly after seeing the pilot cuts), but this line of Hannibal’s is relevant and stays relevant: Your values and decency are present, yet shocked by your associations, appalled at your dreams

And the thing that keeps Will in the field, despite knowing it’s bad for him, that it is actively harming him, is the chance that he can save lives by doing so.  This stays true even in the Red Dragon arc: Molly is shown persuading him in exactly this way, and that’s shown for a reason.  Saving lives is still an important motivation for him.  (And yes, it is terribly romantic to watch him read Hannibal’s letter by firelight and imagine him pining, but let’s be honest - if an excuse to go see Hannibal had been enough of a motivating factor in its own right, he could have had one a hell of a lot sooner.)

The operative point, here, is that not only can Will possess and enact both honest compassion and murderous violence, without that tension between the two, what even is the plot?  The primary emotional arc of the entire show is rooted in that conflict!  

The other thing that grinds my gears as much in an ableism sense as a literary one is the attempted casting of all Will’s interactions with other humans as manipulative/false and/or callous and/or cruel, in light of his demonstrated capacity to do/be all of those things at certain times (often but not exclusively toward Hannibal).  

Mild social awkwardness and occasional standoffishness, which Will does demonstrate toward many other characters in the show, are not fundamentally sinister.  We are told and shown repeatedly that his preference is, for the most part, to be left alone.  When people disregard that, his reaction is roughly proportional to the degree of violation - think of it, perhaps, on a scale of Beverly to Freddie.  He’s a bit awkward with Beverly early on, but he recognizes that despite a few invasions of his personal space, she’s basically friendly, kind, and without much in the way of ulterior motives, and their relationship proceeds accordingly.  Freddie, meanwhile, begins their association by gaining access to a crime scene under false pretenses and then publicly calling him insane, and things predictably go downhill from there!    

Will isn’t obligated to be nice to people who are treating him poorly any more than a woman is obligated to smile for a catcaller, and on the one hand I’m always a bit boggled that a white cis dude is getting this kind of treatment from (part of) fandom, but on the other, the expectation that autistic people constantly perform social normativity Or Else sure is familiar.  

I do thoroughly appreciate the irony that my very first gripe in this fandom was with having run into a few too many depictions of Will as a poor helpless softboy uwu(TM), and now here we are at the opposite pole of the disk horse.  But seriously - nuance is a thing.  Will Graham contains multitudes, and that’s a good thing, because we wouldn’t have much of a show if he didn’t.  

*I am not intending to complain about “Dark!Will” fanfiction.  That’s its own, often very creative kettle of fish.  This post is specifically about interpretations of Will as he appears in the canon material.  

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

“Why do you lie?”: A look at a gay Mike Wheeler

This is a sort of a companion post to Will Byers and Growing Up Gay in the Pre-Internet Era, which I posted last year. I looked into what could have possibly been going on with Will as someone with a gay identity at a time when there was little support. Now I’d like to look at Mike, who would have his own unique challenges towards accepting a positive identity. This isn’t meant to be a post for why Mike is gay, as I (and several others) have already addressed that. Instead, I want to look at some of the psychological processes that may be at work in how Mike develops through the series. I will be treating Mike as if he were a real person, rather than a fictional character, and, so, I will attempt to ignore narrative devices (foreshadowing, parallels, etc.) as much as possible.

“Friends don’t lie” is one of the prevailing messages in Stranger Things. It more or less becomes El’s personal motto, so it ultimately became associated more with her than the person who taught it to her: Mike. Despite attempting to instill this value onto El, Mike himself is shown to have a lot of trouble living up to it. While Mike spends quite a lot of time in Season 3 lying to El, she is not the biggest victim of his lies. No, the one he lies to the most is himself, and he seems to have been doing that since Season 1.

According to the Cass Identity Model, a journey to a positive gay identity requires several steps: confusion, comparison, tolerance, acceptance, pride, and synthesis. This is not a perfect model, but it is one of the better attempts to create a general framework for how it worked for many gay individuals, at least in the time it was created (1979). A general way to look at it is that, at least at the time, individuals would work their way through this process as they engaged with the gay and lesbian community and started to see it as less of a bad thing and more as something to be proud of until it finally becomes just another part of who they are.

As I mentioned in my Will post, there is little opportunity for a kid in Hawkins to engage with the gay and lesbian community. There is no internet, nor is there any (known) place for local gays to gather in Hawkins. This results in the only real mention of homosexuality being the slurs thrown around by school bullies and people like Lonnie. A town like Hawkins would be a very difficult place for a young gay person to grow up. This makes it hard for even the initial stage, confusion, even occurring. Mike has deep feelings for Will, but the confusion stage requires that he acknowledge his feelings as homosexual in nature. Instead, I think Mike has been hiding from his own feelings, and it may not have been until the finale of Season 3 that he finally acknowledged them for the first time. So what comes before the first stage? 

Lies! Well, sort of. Defense mechanisms are how our minds protect us from the anxiety and social consequences of unwanted thoughts and desires. We all use them, unconsciously, to some extent. The next time you come home from a hard day at work and yell at a family member, ask yourself why you’re angry. Odds are it’s nothing the family member did. Getting angry at work can be a risk to your employment, so, instead, you unconsciously find a “safer” target. In this case it’s still bad, but getting forgiveness from a family member is easier than talking a boss into rehiring you. Mike has similar processes going on to protect him from his budding attraction to Will.

It’s impossible to tell when exactly Mike started thinking of Will as more than a friend, even if he doesn’t label the thoughts as such. He already shows an intense concern for Will in Season 1. When the boyish-looking El shows up and provides an opportunity to find Will, Mike risks his friendships to make use of her powers. He also goes over the top in disguising her as, well, a girl. It probably would have been easier to disguise her as a boy, but Mike decided to put a wig and dress on her, and then apply makeup to her. This could be a combination of displacement and reaction formation. Mike is redirecting his feelings for Will onto El, and also making her as obviously female as he can. 

Mike’s bond with El came very quickly, and even caused a rift within the Party. While Dustin and Lucas would come around and value El as a trusted friend, their process with her is more natural than Mike’s rushed, forced relationship with her. Dustin and Lucas had no weird feelings to hide from. Their search for Will contained no unwanted implications, they simply wanted their friend back safe and sound. Still, we would see Mike on the opposite end of this type of interaction in Season 2.

Max is the first “normal” girl to show interest in the Party. Mike reacts to her presence and attempts to join the party with hostility. There is little reason for this, as he was more than willing to allow El to be their friend. He doesn’t truly hate her, and in his own words he can’t hate her as he doesn’t even know her. He simply wants nothing to do with her. His only given reason is that the party is full as it is, which seems to fall flat. It could be that the presence of a girl reminds him of El, but we don’t see him acting hostile to girls in general. It seems, instead, to be his friends’ interest in her that gets Mike to dislike her. While the theory that he is jealous at Will’s interest in Max is intriguing, there isn’t much to go on aside from Will showing a curiosity about her and then letting Dustin and Lucas bring her along for Halloween. Instead, Mike may be projecting here. He shows incredulity that Dustin and Lucas could be so interested in Max despite never having talked to her, suggesting that he thinks getting to know someone is important in regards to being romantically interested. This runs counter to his interactions with El in Season 1. He resents his own behavior, but takes his anger out on his friends and Max instead when he sees them doing something similar.

Mike is very protective of Will throughout Season 2. He also spends a lot of time reaching out to El via his SuperComm, though he admits it’s likely a fruitless effort. His guilt over what has happened to the both of them is another sign of his mixed up feelings for Will and El. On Halloween, Mike and Will open up to each other about how crazy they feel, and they share a smile at the end of a conversation that is arguably a masked love confession. However, as Mike twice brought up El as a part of their conversation, it further reinforces the displacement of Mike’s feelings to her. However, soon after this, Mike finds himself caught up in another Will-related crisis, and El is out of his thoughts until her return at the end of the season.

Mike also shows a lot of willingness to allow himself to be vulnerable with Will in Season 2, something which isn’t seen in his interactions with anyone else. In these moments, Mike’s body language shifts. His tone becomes softer, his head dips slightly, and he peers at Will through his lashes. His aforementioned conversation on Halloween is just one example, but it is also seen when Will is asked if he remembers Mike, when Mike recounts meeting Will as they try to break through to him, when they’re at the movies, and when Will is packing at the end of Season 3. The moment in the shed is perhaps Mike’s most vulnerable moment. He shares a cherished memory, and unashamedly cries while doing so, perhaps even so lost in the moment that he forgets other people are in the room. His feelings, driven into overdrive by the fear of losing Will for good, are beginning to overwhelm him, but he still maintains his “Will behavior.”

This shows an uncharacteristic degree of trust and/or submission. In interactions with other characters, even El, Mike often displays assertive, or even aggressive, tones and stances. Mike doesn’t realize he does this, but we do see him sometimes use similar body language with El, further suggesting that he is redirecting his affections.

Perhaps the biggest moment we see him act this way around El is at the Snow Ball at the end of Season 2. Mike had been having a great time at the dance until Will had gone off to dance. This is strange considering Mike seemed to urge him to go with the girl in the first place. He appears shocked as the pair walks to the dance floor, his mouth agape, and wide eyes staring off into space. This isn’t the body language of someone expressing pride at a friend’s unexpected boldness, but rather it suggests a disturbing revelation. It is at this point that Mike could potentially have moved into the Confusion stage of the Cass model, as he sits on the sidelines (despite Dustin briefly there for company) watching Will dance. Any progress he may have made is instead halted when El arrives unexpectedly. This allows for him to continue using her as an outlet, and gives him a convenient escape from where his thoughts would likely take him.

Season 3 is the first time Mike had to deal with having both El and Will in his life at the same time, and it’s where his defense mechanisms begin to break down. In therapy, the goal is to shine light onto defense mechanisms in order to deconstruct them, so the patient can see and deal with what is actually going on. 

We find out Mike has been largely ignoring his friends and spending most of his time with El. He makes a big show of his relationship with El, including leaving early after Dustin had returned from camp under the false pretense of a curfew. The others don’t buy it, and Mike likely knew this. He wanted them to know he was going off to make out with El. When we actually see them alone, they do indeed make out, but, curiously, Mike twice takes steps to make it less intimate. He stops to sing along to the music, for example, despite El not enjoying it. He also removes El’s hands from her face, leaving them both simply leaning forward at each other without additional contact. There is a suggestion here that Mike is not enjoying what he is doing and limiting just how intimate they get. 

We continue to see his lack of a desire to be close to El. For her part, El shows behavior that could only be considered clingy. It is she who initiates nearly all of their physical contact, and, at one point, she even literally clings to Mike as Dustin is showing off his gadgets. A close inspection shows that Mike is standing with his arms crossed during this, making no active attempt to return the physical contact. None of this physical intimacy is for his own benefit. While being with El means he doesn’t have to worry about his feelings for Will, it does not really allow him to express those feelings to his satisfaction. This may be why he goes on movie “double dates” with Will, Lucas, and Max in between spending time with El. 

The occurrence we see at the movies is clearly not the first due to Steve’s frustrated reaction and their familiarity with his threat. They are late, so there are not enough seats, but there is no hesitation as Mike goes with Will to sit apart from Max and Lucas. Mike is so comfortable with reaching into Will’s bag for the snacks that it suggests it’s happened multiple times before. We also see that, despite his reclusive behavior with El, Mike still has Will on his mind when he asks if Will is ok. His tone again soft, head slightly dipped as he peers up through his lashes. He glances briefly down, possibly at Will’s lips, suggesting he needs to remind himself that it’s not El he’s with at this moment. He is otherwise very content to be “alone” with Will at the movie. 

Mike ultimately needs the relationship with El to protect himself against his feelings for Will, and it all comes to a head when they fight after Will’s attempt at a campaign. Mike’s continuous theatrics lead to not only Hopper forcing him to spend less time with El, but to him getting busted as he allows Lucas to lead him through a plan to get El an apology gift. We later see that he has no difficulties apologizing when he feels he should, so his grand gesture is another sign that his relationship with El is more of a show. He puts up no fight when El dumps him, acting annoyed and accusing Max and El of conspiring against him. He’s hiding from his own complicity in order to avoid acknowledging that it doesn’t really bother him as much as it should. He wants El to come back to him to continue his show, but he can’t do anything about it without confronting his feelings. El leaving didn’t hurt him; it just made him angry. This complicates things for him. It was easier for him to shift his feelings to El when he didn’t actually need to do anything about it.

Will loses it at Mike’s disinterest in his campaign, particularly his attempt to abruptly end it. Mike seems to be trying to be just another too-cool ladies man, and he is disallowing himself to enjoy the game. Still, he can’t bare to have hurt Will, and he chases after him when Will tries to leave. Mike struggles to maintain the lie while trying to placate Will. When Will accuses him of ruining everything to make out with “a stupid girl,” we see Mike lash out, saying it’s not his fault Will doesn’t like girls. While this hurt Will, it was likely another case of projection. Mike hates himself for spending all of his time with El because he doesn’t actually like girls. He can’t even stay angry at Will when he sees how hurt Will was with what he said. He tries to explain that this is just how it needs to be, and he appears sad as Will leaves. Unlike with El, Mike is hurt when he loses Will, and he chased after him to apologize. We don’t actually get to see him apologize, however, as the threat-of-the-season kicks into gear, resulting in Mike needing to get El.

Mike thus is able to bounce his feelings back to El. He maintains a physical proximity to Will, but also tries to avoid interacting with him. The apology he never gets to make to Will ends up clumsily being offered to El. Mike’s vulnerable, genuine behavior is absent as he goofily attempts to make nice with his ex-girlfriend. He awkwardly attempts to invoke previous conversations with Will, suggesting an increasing desperation to re-establish El as the safe target for his affections. Cracks had already been forming in his carefully constructed subconscious defense mechanisms as a result of the contrast in how El and Will dumping him made him feel. Mike is starting to see the truth, and he needs to fix it.

Ultimately, the Byers decide to move away. A few months pass between the end of the season and the epilogue where they actually move. Mike seems to be on good terms with both El and Will, but we don’t really know what happened in the interim to get him there. Mike has conversations with both El and Will. His demeanor in each again demonstrate that, despite what he wants others to think, it’s Will who Mike can’t bear to part with. With Will, Mike again shows his vulnerability when Will goes to give away his D&D books. Mike is clearly afraid at the implications, that Will will move on from him, but Will is able to allay his fears, assuring him it’s “not possible” for him to find a new party, and that he expects to just use Mike’s set when he returns. Mike shows no vulnerability with El. In fact, he seems quite at ease as he explains how they’ll talk all the time, so everything will be ok. El suddenly attempts to bring up his previous attempts to talk about feelings, and he feigns ignorance, seeming uncomfortable. There’s a suggestion that they never re-established a romantic relationship. She says she loves him, and he seems perturbed. She kisses him, and he stands there, unresponsive. As she leaves, Mike stands confused and disturbed. He was not expecting that, nor did he enjoy it. Previously, after such a vulnerable moment with Will, Mike would have jumped at the opportunity to shift his feelings to El. Now it seems that he is finally accepting the truth. Defense mechanisms, being elaborate unintentional lies, only work when the individual remains unaware of them. Insight results in the truth being revealed.

As the Byers leave, Mike stares longingly at the cars. His friends all bike away, but he hangs back momentarily, looking back at Will’s house one last time with a pensive look on his face. All his walls have come crumbling down, and he can’t deny it anymore. He can’t pretend it’s El that he loves. He rides home, walking into his home in a daze. We last see him seeking comfort in his mother’s arms, seeking that unconditional love he craves so much. Mike is now confused, consciously aware that he loves Will, dealing with not only losing him, but also the acknowledgement that he’s likely gay. He’s no longer lying to himself, though it remains to be see how he reacts to the truth.

From here it’s all speculation, as we have little to no knowledge of Season 4. Based on the Cass model, Mike needs to explore his gay identity by meeting other gay people. He needs to see that not only is he not alone, but that being gay isn’t a bad thing. This process isn’t easy, and he will need to deal with the social implications of what it means. He may well choose to attempt to maintain a straight image. El being away means he can claim her as his girlfriend without them needing to be intimate. On the other hand, with support, he could work his way through the model and learn to love himself as he is. 

Note: I tried hard to stick to a conceptualization of Mike, but this does not mean this is how the writers see him. 

[todomitoukei]

hey im kinda confused abt the hpsc and i feel like you could explain it pretty well. is the theory that they’re corrupt and the real villains based in canon or is it just fanon? bc from what i remember they were only mentioned pretty vaguely, so i feel like i might have missed a chapter or something...if it’s based in canon, could you tell me where? (if it’s not too much trouble ofc)

It’s not canon per se, but it’s a theory based on what we know about the HPSC thus far along with some other factors.

As for the HPSC, their job is basically to manage the interactions between heroes and society. In a way, they are the PR team for heroes as a whole. They are also responsible for coordinating the heroes teams with the police, high-profile cases, as well as the provisional hero license exams. We don’t know exactly how one obtains their license to be a Pro Hero but considering the HPSC hands out the provisional licenses, they most likely also take care of the real thing.

With that, they have a lot of control over everything, almost like someone playing chess, with the heroes, police, villains, and civilians being their pawns.

We got a better look at the HPSC once Hawks was introduced, specifically when we got the flashback of him being given his undercover job. There are two noteworthy points from that scene.

The first one being that the HPSC is okay with casualties, giving Hawks the permission to ignore the victims, while he befriends the villains. The HPSC places its importance on the greater good, rather than trying to save everyone.

The second part is about Hawks and his overall role for the HPSC. Though they call it a proposal, Hawks points out that he isn’t given a choice here.

Similar to Eri’s current appearance, people have different opinions on whether using children for the hero side is right or wrong, considering that Eri agreed to use her quirk on Mirio, and Hawks wanted to become a hero.

We don’t have the full picture of what this “special program” that Hawks was a part of entailed, and whether or not he was the only one in it. Although, concerning the last part, we don’t really see any heroes his age so it feels like Hawks was the only one part of this “program” and was always anticipated to be used as the HPSC’s secret weapon. Officially, he’s a hero, but in reality, the HPSC has a lot more control over him than any other hero. Part of that is also shown through his hero outfit, which features the HPSC logo on his shirt.

Keep in mind, Hawks was a kid when he got taken in by the commission. They saw a vulnerable child that happened to have a strong quirk that could be useful to them, so they took said child and turned it into the hero he is now for their own advantages.

Aside from Hawks and Eri, we also have U.A. and any other hero school. While this hasn’t really been addressed by society in the story aside from when Bakugou got kidnapped, this is a high school, which means the students are 15-18 years old. Although the story does tell us that hero students encountering actual villains is a new occurrence, they are still children who get put through very intense training. In the most recent arc, they are being put on the front lines, even though their role was just to evacuate the civilians, it’s obvious from their mindsets and their sense of duty that they are not going to leave it as just that. As mentioned at the start, the HPSC is responsible for coordinating these types of situations so it was their decision to put these kids there. Even if you don’t see an issue with hero high schools like U.A. existing, I think we can all agree that there is something very wrong about putting teenagers on the front lines against the biggest terrorist organization in the country. Funnily enough, the one person to address this is a villain, Dabi:

It makes sense for someone like Dabi, who was created and raised as a mere pawn himself instead of being allowed a normal childhood, to be able to point out that sending kids to a fight like this is not okay.

Speaking of villains, since the USJ arc, the League of Villains has been presented to us as the main antagonists of the series, specifically Shigaraki as the successor to All For One, since Deku, the protagonist, is the successor of One For All. But over time, the members of the League of Villains have been shown to us as being very layered, sympathetic people. Shigaraki has found his own reasons for doing what he does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has always been and continues to be nothing but a vessel for All For One.

Despite the fact that All For One in his current state technically can’t do much, especially not without Shigaraki, him still being around and still saying that Shigaraki isn’t complete yet shows us that All For One is still the bigger threat and we haven’t seen the last of him. When it comes to the question of how can Shigaraki redeem himself, he would first need to realize that he is just being used by All For One. Because the main difference between him and Dabi is that the latter has recognized that he was only used and is now fighting back, whereas Shigaraki hasn’t become aware of that yet. To redeem himself, he not only has to realize this but also figure out how to break away from All For One. Unlike Dabi, he can’t just leave, since All For One can possess him from the comfort of his highly secured cell.

Speaking of Dabi, some people are also theorizing that the HPSC knew about Touya and helped cover up his death, but that this is unconfirmed so while I’m not ruling it out (according to Endeavor he did search for Touya instead of immediately accepting his death so they most likely do know about it but whether they knew the circumstances that have led to this is unknown), I wouldn’t count it as evidence for the time being.

Circling back to the students of U.A., after the USJ arc the rumors of a possible traitor came up, and after Bakugou got kidnapped, we got this meeting between the HPSC and the police, where they first mention that they will need to make some changes.

Later on, Principal Nezu tells us that, though officially the dorm system is for the students’ safety, it’s also so that they (the HPSC and police) can investigate in secret, with both the teachers and the students being possible suspects.

The story hasn’t exactly mentioned this since or explained how exactly they investigate in secret. We do know that there are robots with motion detectors/cameras on campus that report any kind of movement to the teachers, like when Bakugou and Deku had their fight outside. But what about in the dorms? Are there hidden cameras? Maybe even in the rooms? We don’t know that yet, part it’s still a fact that the HPSC even suspects the kids and puts them in dorms under false pretense when in reality it’s easier for surveillance/control reasons.

So to sum it up, the HPSC has a lot of control and they make sure to keep it that way and get even more control. Of course, considering that it is their job to keep the country safe, it is more or less expected of them. But they more often than not show that they have no issue with using child soldiers, and they are also okay with casualties. Overall, they are a corrupt organization in many ways. With the current arc, especially Dabi calling out Endeavor and thus possibly (hopefully) making society question heroes a little more, it would then also make sense for the HPSC to be questioned, though probably at a later point in the story and not quite yet. However, in order for that to happen, people on the hero side first have to start recognizing these flaws and start questioning the current system that is in place.

[sexywmatsui48]

Love or Duty | Chapter 1

Jurina convinced herself she stood in front of the bar to relieve the stress of her hectic day. Staring at the red neon letters above the door, Acceptance, she glanced back towards the darkening street. Salary men and women left office buildings, going back home after work. Strutting around dressed up to the nines in their black uniforms, some joined the subway, while others waited for their bus. Whether listening to music coming from their headphones, or their gaze riveted to their phone. Nothing on their face let transpire the frenetic pace of life in Tokyo.

Jurina’s fingers clutched her briefcase. Go back to her apartment and call it a day: that’s precisely what she should do. Forget about the foolish thought of passing that door. Returning her attention to the flashy red letters, she swallowed the lump in her throat. How often did her steps slow down when she passed in front of this bar? How many times had she paused a moment too long and considered entering, before quickly changing her mind and resume her walk?

Jurina closed her eyes, trying to force herself to move along and erase the inappropriate ideas flooding her mind. If she had resisted the temptation on dozens of occasions, she could do it once more. Against all common sense, a newfound determination swept through her. Taking off her wedding band, she slipped it in her vest pocket and marched forward, entering the Acceptance bar.

A funky, upbeat music welcomed her, her arrival prompting a few heads to turn around. She remained at the entrance, observing the place. On the left side of the room, was erected a stage, the instruments indicating that a band was expected to play. Around the stage were disposed velvet comfy chairs, a few occupied by customers. Between the stage and the first row of chairs, sufficient space had been left to dance. On the right side of the room, was the bar, some clients enjoying a drink at the counter, perched on a bar stool. The blue subdued lighting created a warm and cozy atmosphere.

On a Wednesday, it was far from full. By the number of people slowly approaching the stage, Jurina guessed the upcoming show was much anticipated and would attract a lot of attention. To complete her studying, she noted the bar was filled with women, without a single man in sight. She didn’t expect any less. After all, Acceptance was renowned for attracting a specific type of clientele.

Forcing her legs to move, she walked towards the bar, and took a seat on one of the elevated black stools. Placing her hands on the wood counter, her eyes rested on the empty space on her ring finger. Jurina felt a pang of guilt, and reconsidered her presence. This was wrong; she shouldn’t be here. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the front door. The female bartender was busy attending another customer. There was still time to change her mind and leave unnoticed.

 “Hi, you’re new? I’ve never seen you here.”

Jurina swung her head to her left, where the feminine voice came from. A few stools away was sitting a woman in her thirties. Long, dark hair fell around her shoulders and down her back. Jet black mascara outlined her eyelashes. She wore a white sleeveless top, a mini red full skirt, along with a pair of blue sandals. Jurina felt ill-at-ease in her black salary woman outfit. Her black vest, buttoned over a white shirt, and her black pair of trousers, contrasted sharply with the woman’s relaxed appearance.  

A gentle smile played across the woman’s lips, highlighted by a subtle, pale pink lipstick.

Jurina caught herself staring at her lips a moment too long.

“Yes, it’s my first time,” Jurina replied. She looked away. Jurina wasn’t a shy person. She was outgoing, and had no difficulty to engage in casual conversations with friends or coworkers. People praised her good nature. When a party was organized, she never refused. So why was she acting so distant? Another peek at her absent ring reminded her of her immoral intentions. She hadn’t only come to this place to empty her head after a long, exhausting day. She was in search of something else.

“May I join you?”

Jurina glanced back at her, and nodded her head in agreement. A smile of pleasure plastered the woman’s features. She moved to sit next to her.

“You haven’t ordered. What would you like to drink?”

Jurina’s attention fell onto the half-filled tulip glass in front of the stranger. “What are you drinking?”

“Sun and the Moon. It’s a mix of pineapple, melon and cranberry. It has a sweet taste, but it’s also alcoholic. It contains a lot of vodka.”

Jurina read between the lines; the woman was warning her against the possible effects the beverage could have on her. She was resistant to alcohol. Tonight, she wanted to forget about her problems. If this drink could help, it was what she needed.

“I’ll have the same,” Jurina replied.

The other woman expressed slight surprise, but didn’t say anything. She addressed the female bartender. “Akane. Can you serve the same to my friend?”

“Of course.” Jurina didn’t miss the curious look the bartender gave her, as if assessing her, before sending her a polite smile and preparing the drink.

“Do you come here often?” Jurina asked; it was impossible to ignore the familiarity between both women.

“Not that much, but the bartender is a good friend of mine. Who can say no to free drinks?” she said in a playful, joking tone. “I sometimes come on the weekend. Today is an exception. I had a long day at work, and needed to…” She trailed away, searching for her words. Her brow wrinkled with thoughts.

“Unwind?” Jurina offered.

“Yes.” The woman’s features softened; her lips curled into a smile. “Where are my manners. I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Rena.”

“Jurina.”

“Well, Jurina. Nice to meet you.” A drink was placed in front of Jurina, and she thanked the bartender. “I hope you’ll enjoy your drink.”

Jurina brought her glass to her lips, taking a sip. The woman was right; it contained a strong dose of alcohol. Despite it, she couldn’t resist taking another taste. It was different from what she was used to, but there was nothing wrong with trying something new. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the other woman watching her.

“I like it.” Jurina lowered her glass on the counter. “It has a sweet taste in the mouth. I might be tempted to take a few more.”

Rena let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, this cocktail can have this effect. I’m glad you like it. It’s my favorite.”

“I work in an advertising company. There are often tight deadlines to respect, and my days can be a little stressful,” Jurina said, marking a pause. A few women left the counter to approach the scene. The band had arrived. Jurina felt no desire to follow the gathering of people. Beside her, her companion had her gaze fixed on her, and was listening with attention. “What about you?”

“I’m an actress. At the moment, I’m playing in Central Hospital, a medical show that airs on TBS every Friday at 7 PM. You might have heard of it?”

“Well, I…” Jurina’s face clouded with slight embarrassment. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

Rena’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s alright, it’s a small part. I play the role of a lab technician. You wouldn’t have remembered me.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Jurina shook her head in disapproval. “I don’t see how anyone could forget a beautiful woman like you.”

Jurina tensed. Her heart beat increased. What on earth was she saying? She had blurted those words without thinking. She raised her glass, drinking hard.

Rena giggled. “Thank you for the compliment. So, you think I’m beautiful?”

Jurina returned her gaze to her, startled. The woman was teasing her. “I do.” The answer left her lips more naturally than she wished to admit. It had to be the alcohol speaking. She had already emptied her first glass. Deep down, she knew it was a false excuse. Her female companion was lovely, charming and attractive. Anyone with eyes could see that. It was impossible to not feel drawn to her.

Rena went back to her drink, looking pensive. Jurina feared she had gone too far. Had she been too straightforward? “Be careful, or I’ll believe you’re flirting with me.”

“I…” Jurina didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t mind,” Rena said; she laid her hand on top of Jurina’s. “After all, I’m the one who approached you.”

The contact sent her pulses racing. Jurina knew it was wrong to feel that way. Every fiber in her body warned her against it, what would happen if she pursued with this interaction and train of thoughts.

“I’ll take another one.” Rena signaled the bartender. “What about you? Do you want another drink, or…” she paused for a breath, letting slip a twinge of doubt through her mask of confidence. “Do you want to stop here?”

Jurina was at a cross path. Reason told her to put some distance between them and leave before it was too late. Another part of herself, the one that led her to push the door of that bar, was eager to discover what would follow. Before she could open her mouth to answer, her head had nodded her consent. The woman displayed the most captivating smile, one she found unable to resist.  

 **********

After the third drink, Jurina perceived the influence of alcohol on her system. It made her more open, talkative. In Rena’s presence, she didn’t see the time pass by. During two hours, they discussed various topics, from music, cooking and traveling. Never did they broach, as if a tacit agreement existed between them, any subject that touched their private life.

Their complicity made Jurina forget all about the late hour. Every opportunity was good for Rena to brush Jurina’s shoulder, or rest her hand upon her leg. Rena used the music as a pretense to lean over and speak against her ear, her lips touching her cheek too frequently to be an accident. Her rose perfume, that reached Jurina’s nostrils whenever she invaded her personal space, blended with the freshness of citrus scents, both soothing and intoxicating at the same time.  

They were playing a dangerous game.

“This is my favorite song.” Rena’s attention was drawn by the ballad the band was singing. “Will you dance with me?”

The proposal set up a few alarms in Jurina’s head. “I-I’m not so much of a dancer…”

“Oh, come on.” Rena raised from the stool. She reached for her hand. “Everyone knows how to slow dance.”

Jurina didn’t have the opportunity to protest that she dragged her towards the stage. She stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, amidst the other couples of dancers, and threw her arms around her neck. Jurina’s heart hammered in her chest. She stood transfixed on the spot, unable to move, Rena’s body pressed against hers.

“You’re supposed to put your hands around my waist,” Rena murmured playfully to her ear. “Or people are going to look at us awkwardly.”

Jurina met her gaze, amusement flickering in the eyes that met hers. Jurina’s hands touched her waist, tentative, then slipped her arms around her. They moved in rhythm with the music, brushing the floor softly. Before Rena’s tender smile, Jurina let herself go. Little by little, the tension melted from her body and she slowly relaxed. When Rena buried her face against her shoulder, Jurina tightened her hold ever so slightly.

It was like time was suspended, and nothing else mattered but the two of them. Jurina didn’t pay attention to the lyrics of the song, or the other couples dancing. All she could focus on was the gorgeous woman in her arms, and the intimacy they shared. How was it possible to feel such a strong connection to someone she barely met? She shushed the little voice in her head telling her this was wrong. While the truth scared her, it was impossible to deny they were attracted to each other.

She could have danced with her all night.

Everything eventually comes to an end. In the background, the music faded, breaking the magic.  Rena disentangled her arms from her neck. The band announced it was the last song, and the crowd dissipated. None of them made any move to leave. Rena’s lips were so close to hers; she could have easily stolen a kiss. Jurina felt a twinge of shame for letting such a thought cross her mind.

Rena took her hand, and lead them back to the bar. All along the way, Jurina tried to analyze what had transpired between them. Why had she let another woman get so close to her? Her actions were irrational. She should have left that bar hours ago. In fact, she shouldn’t even have passed that door in the first place. They regained their seat, both falling into an unusual silence.

Rena raised her glass to her lips, and Jurina mimicked her actions, trying to make sense of the situation. When she glanced back in Rena’s direction, she found her looking at her intently. Rena settled her drink back on the counter. Her hand found hers, linking their fingers together. “I’m going to the bathroom. Will you join me?”

Jurina’s heart raced at Rena’s suggestive smile.

She didn’t wait for an answer and left. Jurina followed her retreating form, not losing the implication of what she had offered. She reached for her drink, noticing how little was left of it, and emptied it down in one gulp. Her feet moved on their own volition. Before she realized it, she had pushed the bathroom door.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Rena waited on the other side of the room, her back leaned against the white, tiled bathroom wall. Jurina watched her expression of pleasure change to longing. She shuddered, and felt a burning need for her grow deep inside of her. She swept the place around, enough to acknowledge they were alone. Rena tore herself away from the wall and reduced the few meters separating them. Once in front of her, she wound her arms around her neck and drew Jurina’s mouth to hers.

“I’ve wanted you since you took a seat at the bar.”

The moment Rena’s lips made contact with hers, Jurina threw herself into that kiss. Rena’s lips parted and her mouth opened in invitation. That small invitation was all Jurina needed. Jurina pulled her close, and kissed her hungrily. The simple taste of her elicited reactions from her body that swept her away in their intensity.

Jurina could feel herself sliding towards that dangerous cliff. The cliff where the entire world gave way before her burning urges. Her hands wrapped around Rena’s waist, holding her steady. Rena never hesitated nor resisted. The more Jurina took, the more Rena gave, and she clung to her, Rena’s body pressed so closely against hers she could feel every supple curve moulding to her.

How long they stayed that way, drowning in the taste and touch of the other’s mouth, Jurina didn't know, and truly didn't care. Had it not been for the demands of their oxygen starved lungs, she might not have pulled her lips from her own. Rena was here in her arms, and Jurina was losing herself in the smell of her, the taste of her, the very feel of her soft, warm skin beneath her fingertips where they brushed her bare shoulders.

Her hands moved down her back, exploring, trying to slip underneath her white shirt. Their kisses turned more demanding, pressing. It was messy, urgent. When Jurina kissed her, she discovered she had more passion and fire within her than she ever imagined, for one luscious taste of Rena’s lips only left her hungrier for more.

“I needed that so badly,” Rena gasped.

“Me too,” Jurina confessed.

When Jurina’s mouth met hers again, Rena took control of the kiss, her tongue plundering the depths of her mouth and leaving her trembling with arousal and desire. Jurina drew back long enough to gaze at her with enough unbridled passion in her eyes, for the other woman to know they both wished the same thing.

Their kisses turned more passionate, none of them showing signs of wanting to stop. Jurina found herself pushed against the wall. She heard her vest falling on the ground, and a pair of hasty fingers unbuttoning her shirt. Next thing she knew, Rena’s palms were mapping her breasts through her bra, her nipples pulling tight under her ministrations.

“You’ll need that.”

The kiss was broken; Jurina dragged her heavy-lidded eyes open. Trying to figure out what she meant, she followed Rena’s actions. Detaching herself from her, Rena placed a coin in the wall machine, and retrieved the fallen condom. Surprise flashed in Jurina’s eyes. “H-How did you know?”

Rena gave her a malicious, knowing look. “You think I didn’t notice the bulge between your legs? It’s not a secret what kind of people come to this bar.”

Jurina was taken aback, speechless. “So, you have… with people like me?”

“I don’t have any preferences, but yes, a couple of times. Why?” She slipped the plastic bag into the front pocket of Jurina’s pants. “Isn’t it what you were looking for when you entered that bar?”

“I…” Jurina made no immediate reply, and considered for a moment. “I’m not sure what I was searching.”  

Confusion crossed Rena’s features. “You wanted some company.” She lightly swept her tongue between Jurina’s lips, pressing her warm, soft lips to hers. “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not…” Jurina couldn’t deny it.

“Then, come in.”

Rena grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her into an empty toilet, shutting the door close behind them. Jurina didn’t know what she found the most frightening and enticing at the same time: that she wanted another woman so much, or that she was desired with equal hunger. Rena didn’t waste time to work on her pants, pulling them down, then pushed her down on the toilet seat. Jurina’s mouth went dry; her heart jolted. She watched in awe as Rena’s hand disappeared under her red full skirt and pulled off a pair of pink underwear, letting it fall on the floor.  

She grew more excited as Rena hiked her skirt up and straddled her. Jurina helped her remove her white top from above her head, Rena tossing it aside, her pink bra following the same path. Jurina pulled her closer, and latched her lips onto hers. Her hands moved up so her thumbs touched the undersides of her exposed breasts. Jurina could feel Rena’s heartbeat, and she breathed more heavily by every second. With every breath, her breasts moved slightly and Jurina moved towards her nipples. She caressed them freely and fully, cupping one in each hand and rubbing each in a circular motion.

“D-Don’t make me wait.” Rena’s voice sounded husky, a little breathless. “I want you inside me.”

Jurina needed no further encouragement. Her hand reached between Rena’s legs, but was halted in her exploration. “There’s no need for any more foreplay.” Rena grabbed her wrist. “Trust me, I’m ready.” Jurina gently freed herself from her hold. She resumed her progress underneath Rena’s skirt, approaching the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Her fingers came in contact with damp folds. “See? Told you.” Rena smirked back at her. She hooked a finger on each side of Jurina’s boxers and inched them down, revealing Jurina’s manhood. Astonishment touched her face, followed by an amused smile.

Jurina felt slightly embarrassed.

She was as hard as stone.

Rena touched Jurina’s cheek and ran her thumb across her lips. She leaned forward, gently kissing her. “Do you want to put it on, or will I? What do you prefer?”

Through her frenzy mind, it took Jurina a few seconds to remember where Rena had placed the condom. Jurina retrieved it from her pants pocket, and tore it open, slipping the protection on over her erection. Rena took a moment to position herself, then reached between Jurina’s legs and guided her manhood into her. She lowered herself smoothly, gently, until Jurina held her completely inside her. Jurina gave a gasp of excitement as she felt the hot, moist clench of her muscles on her.

Rena began moving on top of her. She moved slowly, sliding out of her until only the tip remained inside then slowly thrusting back in again until she filled her completely. Each stroke made her whimper and moan slightly, her arms tightening around her. Rena continued her slow languid movements, holding her intense chocolate-eyed gaze with her own. They rocked together, two minds slowly merging to become one as their bodies melded until it was impossible for her to know which was her pleasure and which was hers.

She rocked rhythmically, back and forth, rising and falling, changing sometimes to a lewd circular sway. It drove them both crazy, if the hitches in their breathing were any indication. Jurina drew one of those tight nipples into her mouth. Gripping handfuls of her hair, Rena let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Jurina’s hands gripped Rena’s hips and grinded her down on her. Jurina sped up the tempo.

Hard and fast she pushed her down on her, her tongue moving in sync with her hips, encouraged by Rena’s rising passion, by the hands that clenched her back. Jurina sent her free hand down to where they were joined, teasing and coaxing her sensitive bud. Rena’s moans of pleasure encouraged her fiery plundering of her body. Jurina closed her eyes and let the pleasure radiate outward from where their bodies were joined. Jurina felt a pulling at her shaft in rhythm to their movement. It was the muscles inside Rena, caressing her. Jurina made a low sound in her throat.  

“You can hold it. Just… a little longer.”

Jurina heard Rena’s whispering pleas, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She teetered on some brink of ecstasy, trembling on the edge just this side of sanity. Rena’s breath was coming faster now. They went on, moving in unison. Rena adjusted the angle to reach her most sensitive spot, far up inside her womb. That made Jurina’s eyes open. The physical pleasure could no longer be separated from the mental, and she felt them both rising to the edge toward the crest of ultimate pleasure.

Rena reached that pinnacle first. Gasping out Jurina’s name, she shuddered around her, her contractions clamping down on her shaft. Rena clung to her while her body shivered in the aftershocks. Jurina’s own release followed on the heels of hers. She lost all control and climaxed with her, riding the waves of pleasure.

When Jurina returned to herself, it was to the feeling of Rena’s fingers stroking her hair. A sensation of satisfaction drifted from her, a sated happiness and warmth that was intoxicating. Rena’s body still trembled from the force of her last orgasm and she shuddered as well. Breathing heavily, still buried deeply inside of her, Jurina dropped a trail of kisses down her neck, and on her shoulder.

Minute by minute, they came down from the euphoria but remained locked in each other’s arms. For the first time in more years Jurina could remember, she had finally experienced sexual pleasure again.

Jurina felt Rena backing slightly, and pressing her lips against hers. A smile pulled at her lips and she returned the kiss, almost wishing this moment could last forever. Eventually, Rena slowly removed herself from on top of her. She retrieved her fallen clothes from the floor, and readjusted them as best as she could. Jurina watched her moving towards the door, and she knew this was it. Her short, but memorable encounter with Rena was coming to an end. She turned around in her direction. “Thank you. I enjoyed it.”

Rena gave her one last lingering smile and unlocked the door. Jurina followed the sound of her footsteps drawing away, followed by the bathroom door opening and shutting close. Jurina was left alone with her thoughts. A one-night stand. It was all that it was. Once Jurina would have left that place, she would return to her daily life, and pretend that moment never occurred.

**********

Jurina dropped her keys in the ashtray, and hanged her vest on the coatrack. Removing her shoes in the entrance, she was careful not to make too much noise as she made her way inside the dark apartment. She stole a peek in the direction of the bedroom: the lights were off. Pushing the bathroom door, she removed her clothes, and entered the shower. A steady stream of warm water cascaded over her shoulders, washing away any physical trace of her misconduct.

Visions of Rena filled her mind. She had no intention of seeing her again. No clarification was needed for them to know what this nightly encounter was. But it didn’t mean Rena was someone easy to forget. She had made her feel something, on both an emotional and physical level, that she hadn’t felt in years.

Jurina made her way to the bedroom, slowly opening the door. Her gaze fell down on her wife, sleeping soundly in bed. The pang of guilt got bigger. She made her way towards her own side of the bed, and took a seat on the side of the bed, her back turned to the other woman while she put on her pajamas. She had to repeat herself again and again it was only a moment of weakness, to not let the shame consume her. Placing her wedding ring on the bedside table, she quietly slipped between the sheets.

The mattress shifted behind her.

“Did you stay at work late again?”

“Yes, I wanted to finish some paperwork.” Jurina bit down on her lower lip. It was the first time she lied to her wife.

“You can arrive at work later. Don’t forget we have a meeting at 11 AM with the board committee.”

“I won’t…” Jurina’s voice trailed away uneasily. “Thank you for reminding me. Goodnight, Sakura.”

“Goodnight.”

Behind her back, Jurina heard her wife falling back asleep. Jurina tried to do the same, but found herself wide awake. She stared at the wedding ring on the bedside table, reminder of the commitment she had made to the woman sleeping in bed with her. And the misdeed she had committed tonight for the first time. Jurina squeezed her eyes shut, wishing to erase from her mind once and for all any memory of Rena’s enchanting dark, brown eyes.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Playing hooky leads to more delicious food (Sy cooks! Swoon!), some deep conversation, and new revelations about Shane’s past.

What? You’re behind? Don’t worry! CLICK ME to catch up before reading this chapter!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, more food sluttiness, shameless nerd speak, unfettered and shameless sappiness.

Author’s Note: So, guys, I’m sorry. I really wanted to get this chapter to you Sunday. Life has just been a bit disheartening of late. Between being upset over some personal turmoil some friends are going through (two of my oldest friends are getting a divorce!) and coming home from work utterly exhausted on all possible levels, it’s been hard to write about lovey dovey things. As I said in my recent reblog of my masterlist, though, I’m working on some prologues, one for each character. I don’t plan on them being terribly long, but I want you guys to have some more back story.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

It was hard to feel guilty for calling out of work for the afternoon under false pretenses when she was curled up on the sectional in Sy’s “nerd lair” with his head in her lap as they watched John Wick on the massive TV he had down there.

“You mean to tell me we watched the entire Bourne franchise upstairs on that…that iPod Touch, by comparison, when we could have watched down here on this majestic monolith!? In what is essentially a theater!?” She’d asked immediately, derailing the grand tour of the museum of things she would soon find amazing.

“Hey, I haven’t been coming down here a whole lot since I hurt my knee. Stairs haven't exactly been easy or, ya know, possible. I had my gaming computer down here for weeks, too, couldn't do a damn thing about it, because I didn't trust a'one of my buddies or my neighbors to haul her up the stairs for me. Leia's a custom machine worth thousands a' dollars. If she's getting' broke, it's all gonna be on me."

"You named your gaming computer? Leia?" So many emotions were flooding her. Adoration, sympathy, lust, and just a sheer need to squeeze the bejeezus out of him.

"Yeah, it's a common thing. And…not to be that guy, but…you do know who Leia is, right?

"If by Leia, you mean Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, true daughter of Darth Vader, adopted by Bail Organa at birth, sister of Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion against the Empire?"

"Hey, I thought you wanted to take things slow, sunshine." he pulled her close, flush with his body. "Then you go talkin' all sexy to me like that." he lingered at her cheek with light kisses.

"Well, you did the same with your baseball talk the other night." she moaned into the contact with relish.

"I can't help it if certain sports terms have made their way into everyday speech. Your…exposition there, about my boyhood crush was intentional."

"You had a crush on Leia?" he nodded, shyly. "I had a crush on Han! Heck with Cap and Widow, THERE'S our couple's costume for next Halloween!" she said, excitedly!

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking about costumes for public use." he said, a naughty smirk in his eye.

"Stop it, you. Finish your tour. I want that soup on the stove." she said, patting her tummy.

He showed her the various memorabilia he'd procured over the years. Posters from a few of her favorites, and a few others that she recognized but wasn't as excited about. Die Cast models of several famous film vessels and vehicles, and a "life size" LEGO R2-D2 which would have had her salivating even if she hadn't been hungry. Apparently it took him almost a month to assemble the droid, but he did it all by himself.

"Aww…I wish I could have helped." she lamented.

"Maybe I'll pick up the Death Star and we can do that one together."

She nodded excitedly, eyes wide, rubbing her hands together in front of her chin with greed.

"Okay, little mouse." he chuckled. "Let's fill that belly and start this movie."

They filled massive bowls with generous portions and took the crackers down stairs so they could start the marathon. If they wanted to get through all three films tonight, they'd best get started.

They were both fairly quick eaters out of habit given her often truncated lunch breaks and his typical ten minutes in the mess hall. Even savoring the delicious creamy, cheesy concoction, as she tried to do, it was hard to slow down on. It did give her something to focus on during the first, emotionally devastating part of the film though. Once she finished, she expressed a final  groan of delight and thanked Sy, kissing him on his cheek as she held the other. She felt the smile bloom across his face as she prolonged the contact.

They were about halfway through the movie, a big fight scene in a night club, when something dark and grim hit Shane in the chest. Watching Keanu Reeves pretend to beat up and kill all of these actors and stunt men, it occurred to her that the man with his head resting gently on her lap, long body taking up the rest of that side of the sectional, had fought and killed. The man letting her play her fingers through his hair and beard had shot and blown up people. He was told to do it. Ordered to do it. But even though he was doing it lawfully and by military order, as far as she knew, it was still his job…at least some of the time. She knew that was an oversimplification of the function of the armed forces, but…sometimes, it was an apt description.

She had never thought of Sy like that before. Someone other than the strong but gentle teddy bear that had come to be such a comforting presence in her life. She needed that, after all she'd been through…she tried not to think about the hurt of her last relationship. She hadn't discussed it with Sy. It was history. Ancient history. But she was, after all, a believer in the fact that those who knew nothing of the past were doomed to repeat it. She'd tell him…one day. Everything that Elliott had done to her…had put her through. But not tonight. Suddenly, she thought being on the arm of a soldier, someone who'd lived the kind of life that Captain Logan Syverson had lived, might make her feel more safe than she had in ages.

"You're awful quiet, sunshine." he said, cracking a beer open and handing it to her before doing the same for himself and sitting down with his thick arm around her.

"Just…trying to be respectful of the movie experience. You know." she smirked at him as the menu music to the second movie played.

"It ain't that. I know this is still new, what we're doin', but I've watched enough movies with ya over the last few weeks to know that you don't keep quiet for a full length feature." Shane worried the tab on her cold Miller Lite. She wasn't sure how to bring this forward. "Spill it, sweetheart. What's eatin' ya?"

"What…what do you think about when you're watching movies like this, Sy?"

"Guess, same as anybody. How awesome the fighting and driving is. Wondering when Keanu got to be a badass. And if there's really an underground society of assassins. Why, hon?"

"I, umm, I only wondered if it…it doesn't make you miss…your job?"

The smile he gave her was both bemused and amused. "Come 'ere." he prompted her to lean her head into him, and sat his beer down on the buffet behind the couch so he could better hold her. "Do we need to go over the function of a captain of the Army of These United States? Because as flattered as I am that you think so highly of me, I'm no John Wick, nor do I know anyone like John Wick. Or five guys that would make one John Wick. Ten guys. Maybe twenty."

"The fighting doesn't bring anything back?" she smoothed the creases in his shorts as she tried not to act like she was over thinking his past.

"That fightin’s…it's like dancing. It's choreographed, precise, and the outcome is predetermined. Real fights are the exact opposite. They're chaos, unpredictable, and the right guys don't always win. Trust me, I've seen a lot of them go south in a big way." they both let a moment of silence pass before Sy broke it. "What’re ya really askin’, Shane?"

She wanted to ask so many things. The questions seemed to clog the ventricles of her brain like leaves in a rain gutter. Bottlenecked traffic.

"I just…couldn't help but think…about things you must have had to do when…when you were active, and I just…if you need to talk about anything, I'm here." She imagined that taking someone's life, no matter how personal or impersonal the act itself seemed on the surface, would create some level of emotional scarring.

“Oh, sweetheart." he kissed the top of her head, making her feel as warm and cozy as the soup had…perhaps more so. "You are important to me for so many reasons. You've shown me how to smile again. Laugh. Real, genuine happiness. No sarcastic shit like I had to use on my men in my squad. But although I'd feel comfortable talkin' to ya 'bout near anything, there's a counselor on the base who's specifically trained to help guys like me. Who've seen what I've seen and been through…similar situations. He makes sure I don't feel like less of a man for what happened to me. You make me feel…like more than a man…something stronger than I thought possible."

She was straining hard to corral the tears within her waterline, but they broke free when he squeezed her tightly to him with both of his massive arms.

"So…that HEP I gave you is working?" she laughed, knowing full well that his home exercise program had no bearing on the strength he meant.

"Come on, Shane." he raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to see herself the way he saw her. "Them handouts you give me don't mean a hill o' beans in this conversation and you know it. The way you hold yourself, speak to others. There is so much quiet strength in your kindness that comes right out of your beautiful little heart. Some days I'll see you working with kids, if I get in early, and I know they annoy you and freak you out, but you never let that show." He looked into her eyes, misty from emotion, and he wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "I'll never be able to explain it right, the way you inspire me to be a better and stronger man. And my heart just breaks to hear you put yourself down. And don't say you're just kidding, because I know you think you are, but behind every one of those jokes is a truth, at least as you see it." He'd seen her make to argue and knew her tactic before she had attempted it. "Give yourself some credit, Shane."

"I'm too busy blaming myself for the bad stuff to give myself credit for anything good." she sniffed. "You're the first guy I've…I've been involved with that's acted like I was worth anything more than a meal ticket. Someone who was only suitable for enough sex to make it an official relationship just so they could have a place to live, and do whatever quasi-job was a thing. First serious boyfriend was a freelance writer, but he never seemed to be writing. Then there was the guy with the internet start-up…but he could never tell me in a satisfactory way what the company actually did…so that was brief."

He seemed to know she was bracing for something big. Something difficult. He gave her silence and stroked her shoulder in encouragement to continue. She took one of her deepest ever breaths.

"Then came Elliott. Elliott Thomas. My last boyfriend. The worst of them all. Most useless and greatest offender. I ignored all of the signs, of course. He had a YouTube channel and an Instagram that he was trying to gain followers on and become a so-called "influencer." she rolled her eyes. "He had no life skills. He had a bit of an eye for photography and he could find humor in uncommon places, which he thought made him insta-famous and vlog-worthy."

"I hate him already." Sy growled.

"Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you the rest, then." he asked her to go on. "He always seemed to find these ways to cheat on me and lie to me that I couldn't quite prove, but I was just certain of. But I just…I didn't want to believe it. I wanted THAT one to work. Well. I came home one night after work, and he had another girl in our bedroom. I told him he had until the next day when I got home to leave. Things got a little physical, but I can hold my own." she said, proudly, "and I bolted with my purse. I stayed with Heather, our evening secretary, and we hashed it out, and got a little blitzed on moscato, and cried together."

"Wow."

"He was gone the next day. All I heard from my landlord was, 'you shouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon.' so I guess he had his cop buddies send him a message. He blocked me on all social media and I haven't heard a peep from him since. That was five years ago."

"What a scum bag." he stated, obviously.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to really think about a relationship since then…until…" she let the word hang there, knowing they both knew what the end of the sentence was. "Until I met you." Drifting unsaid in the ether of the unspoken.

"It's been a long time for me too. I mean…I haven't quite been a monk, but I haven't…I haven't cared for a girl since…actually, I've never felt this way about anyone."

"I didn't mean to unpack all of that tonight when we're only a third of the way through our marathon. I really wasn't even going to bring it up at all. It's just…been on my mind. Ya know. I once heard a very poignant parable about keeping your mouth shut if you're warm and happy. I was attempting to do that." she chuckled.

"Yeah, but we need to be able to open up to people in this life. Keeping a bottle stopped under pressure ain't no good for the bottle. Or what's inside."

"Such wisdom. You know just what to say to me." she grinned into him.

"Just seen what keeping yourself closed off can do to a person. And the people they love."

Love…there was that word in the air. Not officially said, but felt in all ways. They held each other close as the opening to the second movie played.

Up Next: Chapter Nine-Group Therapy

[the-satellite]

Hello friends and welcome to ☆Hateful Nostalgia☆. I was exposed to the mob talker mod WAY too young bc I was an unsupervised child on the internet watching mod showcases and SkyDoesMinecraft. Looking back these sucked, the stories were often bland and the designs were milk toast at best and tits out at worst. So for the sake of procrastinating on working on anything substantial I grabbed the main 6 I remembered and gussied em up. Redesigns, rewrites, better names, all that bullshit. If your interested in better photos, design notes, story details and rambling hit the basement, otherwise here's a line up you should click for better quality.

Also I wrote all this once before already but I deleted it like a dumb bitch. On the night Unus Annus was murdered in front of my eyes no less. Was a rough fuckin night.

The Creeper- Kupa. An explosive pyromaniac with a habit of making empty threats and yelling. She protects what she believes to be her territory with a suicidal passion, but if you manage to get her to cool down and soften up she's pretty sick to hand out with. Hard of hearing, has at least one bout of head trauma at all times, and deathly allergic to cats.

Because the creeper is kinda the og I wanted to reference AT2's design more than the others, but I'm p sure the only thing I actually kept was the red hair and brown gloves. Otherwise I was doing whatever. I really wanted to lean into the explody bit of creepers, so I gave her some bite and dressed her in clothes referenced from Irish railroad workers. This may also be why I keep imaging her with a very heavy Irish or Scottish accent, whichever would be most incomprehensible when angry. Every color but her skin was color picked from one of the references, with some minor alterations for makes my eyes happy reasons.

With Kupa I imagine a story line with her would largely be about her as a character and her development than like an actual adventure narrative like everyone else. She starts off ready to blow up both you and herself in a misguided attempt to defend what she sees as her's and opens up and learns not everyone is out to get her. Lots of time taken to understand her childhood and how she ended up how she is. Very simple, probably the default or tutorial run people would go through.

The Zombie- Bee. The ill husk of a missing explorer suffering from a less than conventional appetite. She wallows in her self imposed loneliness, believing herself to be an irredeemable monster doomed to hurt those around her. What she really needs is a buddy and some clue to who she used to be. Rough voiced, chronically fatigued, and prone to spontaneous combustion in sunlight.

 I definitely consider this one the weakest for design sadly. I imagined Zombies as humans who went into strange caves and caverns and didn't come out for years, only to pop up as completely different people. I just tossed AT2's design. The first thing I did was make her a bit of a genderbent Steve and tinted her green bc Zombies in game are just Steve but green. Tore up her clothes, colored picked the darkest colors I could from the clothes on the in game and boom, Bee. I do vaguely regret not making her eyes pure black but I also still wanted her to be human enough to fit with the other overworld mods.

 Ok so Bee actually has a basic story. When you meet her she's aggressive, but as a warning. She fears the possibility she may hurt somebody so heads for threats immediately. Going back and forth between her cave and village for a while you learn more about the situation with the missing folks who come back and Bee as a person. After a bit you pick her up off her depressed ass and start a nocturnal adventure of refinding your past, adapting to who your becoming, overcoming self destuction, and slow burn babey!!! 

The Skeleton- Ulna. One of the few surviving warriors of a now destroyed kingdom and dead culture. She spends most of her time now traveling alone, hiding in trees and shooting anything see sees as a threat- which is everything- in the face with homemade arrows. Very much suffering from loss of her home and a bad case of lost purpose. A woman of few words, very antisocial, and naturally nocturnal.

 I came in with the Skeleton wanting to make her seem mysterious, so my first thought was immediately a cloak and a mask, but I wanted her face to like be visible so I went with the face paint. I didn't actually know that I wanted to do under there so I went with wraps that are reminiscent of the original outfit but still not tits out bc it's so fucking easy! Gave her a quiver, color picked the cloak and face paint from the in game model and the wraps from AT2'S art. I did like. Subconsciously draw her eyes the way I do Asian characters but I didn't have anything specific in mind so like go nuts with what you think she is.

 Ulna's deal is very much her lack of purpose or home and the entire thing is about finding that again. She's found sitting up in a tree during a storm pointing a bow and arrow into your face. She eventually let's you stick around until the storm is over and theres some bonding into deep night until the rain stops. You ask if she wants to come with on your little travelling sword for hire business, she says sure, sleep schedule shenanigans, backstory angst, and road trip bonding happens and she eventually decides that helping people is her new purpose and you're her new home

The Spider- Park. A young adult experiencing the world for the first time through her tribe's rite of passage. She's really just trying to figure out how to live life outside of the cave she's been stuck in her entire life and aggressively trying to be an independent adult despite not knowing anything about being an independent adult. Its projection. Blind in the daylight, naive and excitable, and taken to refusing help at her own risk.

 Ok so. I don't know who looked at the spider and said "purple haired loli with puffy pants" so I once again yeeted the whole thing, only really keeping the kinda cutesy and childish bits. Spiders are a tribe of humans what live in caves unless they've broken off to live on the surface. Kids are kept inside until they hit a certain milestone, where they come up to explore at night. They're usually small and pale, but are pretty kickass when necessary. Again picked the colors off the in game model, played with the lightest gray for the skin, and bc I couldn't figure out anyway to use the stripes so they're on the patches lol.

 Park's meeting is probably the funniest and most meet cute one here, in that she accidentally drops on top of you from a little cliff drop off. Cue loads of apologies and an explanation about the spider deal and being blind in light. She asks for some help getting around and bam babey friendship and emotional attachment! What follows is kinda a buddy of coming of age story with the obligatory goes home and is miserable scene. Generally it's just about being a scared young adult and having someone to fall back on and why that's important. Also crushes and young people being bad at that.

 The Blaze- Amber. A demonic entity who would let the world burn and the sun die if it meant she'd get her soul back. She's known for being ruthless, taking souls through force instead of making deals like other Blazes. Keeps this forceful nature even once she's become friendly, makes you do dump shit. Territorial, eyes glow and dim with her life, and runs remarkably warm.

 Amber here is the first one I actually did! I was just. Really tired that she was in a bikini. I decided early on I wanted overworld mobs to be human and everyone else was decidedly not, so Blazes are demons who gave up their souls under false pretenses to other Blazes. Because of how little clothes AT2's design wore I had essentially free reign and my thought was immediately to lean on golden knight bc of how Blazes are found protecting fortresses. The gold isn't picked from anything bc I was looser with the colors, but everything else is, and the hair is supposed to represent the smoke. Also the sticks in her hair are blaze rods bc I don't like them just floating around her.

Amber is found in the Nether obviously, protecting a fortress and immediately trying beat your ass and either incinerate you or make you give up your soul. During you prove yourself a p damn good fighter and she makes a deal to show you how Blazes exist and pursade you to give your soul up willingly. Bonding happens and she explains where the souls go and what happened to her. Insert line about how she dug in the sand for her soul until her fingers bleed bc I'm an Arcana freak lol. In general I'd just like her to learn to adapt to who she is now and learning to live life well instead of letting her anger burn her up from the inside out.

 The Enderman- Violet. A confused but sweet young bit of void created by and connected to the Ender Dragon. Her relationship with reality is tenuous at best and abusive at worst, making stable existence rather difficult. She doesn't know a name, age, gender, anything about herself aside from that she likes sweaters. Communicates primarily through psychic connections, docile and sweet, and melts like a witch in water.

 Violet was incredibly easy, so this may be way short. Endermen are decidedly human shaped void from the End with varying sentience. They're direct extensions of the Ender Dragon, and nobody knows how they're made or where they come from, not even they do. Adventurers who escaped The End say they seem scared of it though. Violet in particular is pretty damn new and extraordinary nonconforming, and I tried to show that with her sweater and ponytail. Once again, literally all colors picked. Definitely the simplest but one of my favs.

Violet is the sweetest meet up I think. As your traveling between villages you notice a strange enderman watching you and plant a little flower in front of her. She picks it and you hear a happy little trill come from you and a pretty voice say thank you in your head. Now you have a tall dark teleporting travel buddy! After a little bit of back and forth she tells you in some broken English that the Ender Dragon made her but she doesnt know how, and that it's bad and needs to be killed for the sake of Endermen and that's the new goal. Spoiler they're the corrupted souls of those that died fighting it, with it gone Endermen are free to exist as their own being and do whatever, hurray!

[datawyrms]

what if i really liked @chibigaia-art mastermind Kiibo Au comic too much and wrote a thing. hahaha. unless...

On A03 (Which has formatting I have not translated to here.)

It was the scream that jerked him into action, throwing open his door to an empty central area. It had sounded like Tenko, but no sign of her or a struggle was here. It had sounded so close, almost right in his head, how could he be too late to help anyone? His inner voice seemed to be taking it worse than he was, though it was oddly muddled and muted, not the clear declaration it usually was, Disappointing he could understand, but boring? Someone could be in trouble and the voice only wanted to express that it was not interesting enough, or too short? He had to do something, yet the room seemed as muddled as his thoughts. The robot had to close his eyes, clutching at his head to try and wait out the disorientation.

The mastermind was dead.

Rantaro had done what he had set out to accomplish. End the killing game. Tsumugi Shirogane was a lifeless corpse, head cracked open by the very weapon she had intended to use. This was a good thing, mostly. Killing was wrong, but understandable considering she had been the one putting them all through this strange killing game. Yet this was also the worst thing? It was boring, it was too soon, it was a lame cop out. It could not end here. Rantaro had to pay for his crime, and then the game would continue as planned. He didn’t want that? He did? The voices did. How did he know any of this? The voices demanded more. The show must go on. Kiibo did not want it to continue. He could manage to wrangle that thought out as his own opinion, though his certainty wavered with every new declaration of annoyance. Ignoring or denying the voice did nothing but dump even more feedback, disappointment, anger, even hatred. Too much to sort through. He? They? Demanded he act. The show MUST go on. He knew the mastermind was dead, as he had seen the body. From a camera he was unaware of, oblivious to, reporting to him. It liked that it could transmit directly to him, now that his connection to the entire network had been restored. The voices. The audience. Only here for their own amusement. He was a puppet for them to play with. You exist to entertain. That is your only purpose. That is why you were built. His hands drop, fingers still half curled into fists. His memories contradicted this. His memories were false. If the game continues, the voices will be pleased. The only reason he exists is to make them happy. Rantaro will be ‘wrong’ about Tsumugi’s identity as the mastermind, and they will have a whole new mystery to solve. Didn’t he want to be more than that? To be like the others, like his friends? A person? He never wanted anything Tsumugi Shirogane had not put in his head first. He was a machine, not a real person. Didn’t he want to go off script? Be something meaningful?

THE SHOW MUST GO ON.

The other voices quieted, locked away from influencing him as his left eye opened and switched, a red haze overlaying the room, revealing the resources he had control over and commands he could make. The voices could not be allowed to see who the new mastermind was, after all. Monokuma asked the question, still hearing it in the bear’s voice even as only a message read in his head. So what’s the plan, boss? This was wrong. He didn’t want this. Yet the information Team DanganRonpa had dumped in his hard drive made one thing very clear. As their robot, he did not really have much of a choice in the matter. Either he did it now, himself, or he could be reset back to default and do it anyway. At least as himself, he might be able to tone down the brutality? Make the body discovery announcement.

The horrified gasps that come from his classmates, his friends, his enemies is both discomforting and thrilling. He had caused that. He had meant something to all of them, in that brief moment. He dropped his connection to Motherkuma and the rest of the mastermind resources, Monokuma’s AI knew how to prep for a class trial without any input from him. That, and if he mentioned overhearing something he had no logical way to hear, the mystery of if there was a backup mastermind would be solved too quickly. The voices returned as his eye snapped back to the normal blue hue, back to the more consistent singular idea at any given moment. Go and see what happened. They were excited, surprised, pleased. At least obeying that command did not feel as much like a betrayal.

Rantaro had the sense to admit he had killed Tsumugi when the entire class had gathered and the bears asked who would claim the first blood perk. After all, everyone already knew he had done it. Monokuma had a lot of fun with it, mocking everyone for even thinking there was a mastermind. Did they all like thinking Rantaro totally had a good reason and wasn’t just using this ‘mastermind’ excuse to look better in their eyes before he left? Ryoma had been incensed, raising his voice as he asked Rantaro why he had killed her, after he had already offered to die instead if he just wanted out. Honestly, he did not have to meddle much. Monokuma and the kubs did more than enough to spark tension and throw doubt that a mastermind existed. After all, Kiibo could act on his own, who said they couldn’t? Who said there had to be someone behind it? He’d been properly offended, his anger genuine. “I am nothing like you!” He was exactly like them, and he hated it. He spared the others from knowing ‘leaving’ was getting to see the airless 'outside world', ordering Monokuma to cut the feed once the door was open to maintain the surprise. It was too early for them to know of the devastated 'world' outside. It was too painful to watch the one who managed to end the killing game try to scrabble back to life giving air, only to be denied by a savage kick from the Exisals. For him to die thinking he had been wrong, mistaken, possibly killed an innocent... It was unfair. Yet this is what they all wanted. So the ‘Ultimate Survivor’ suffocated alone, the others still getting to have the hope that Rantaro would get word out. A peek outside would be all the crueler with his rotting corpse on display, hands outstretched to a worthless, meaningless hope.

Even though the Monokubs managed to mess up the motive delivery, he did not need to act as the mastermind. Kirumi getting her own video had sufficed to get desire to kill in the air, no matter how hard Kaede tried to get the group to stick together and ignore the videos. Kokichi had been a major help in making sure Ryoma had seen his own video with his viewing party scheme, while also being an active antagonist during the trial. He may ultimately have led them to the right conclusion, but it was unlikely anyone else would notice it off hand. So this was how Tsumugi intended to remain in the shadows. Who would suspect her when there was this relentless troublemaker front and center? Who would notice that she wasn’t actively participating that often, or only parroting things someone else said first? He had it just as easy. After all, his existence was a joke. Robots aren’t people, unfortunately for all of them. He wanted to be one, but that was the punchline. No wonder all of them ignored any upset responses he made to such comments. It was like being offended about the sky being blue. Being mad at reality, at something that was not going to change. None of them would still be in this game if he could truly be a person. Kaede managed to help Shuichi let go of his need to hide behind his cap, to face the reality that Kirumi had killed Ryoma, and died for it. That Maki was indeed an assassin and hid it. It struck him as somewhat cruel to force the timid detective to face the truth head on. There were no kind truths to be found here. Deflecting it, embracing the lie that escape was possible would be kinder. Though they may die before they learned that truth.

Korekiyo’s actions made him question if a mastermind was even needed to keep this game active. Beyond choosing when the motive should go out, he got to play student. The sheer irony of the mastermind being in Angie’s Student Council didn’t escape him. Any harmony brought through her actions he’d be obligated to break, but it was nice to be wanted for something that wasn’t reprehensible for a change. The voices usually voted in favour of spending time with the others, which was always difficult. Kiibo wanted to be their friends, to help them. On some level he did still care for them, wanted their approval, hungered for it as if it would make him more human. That may be why none of them realized he was lying to them. He could almost forget he was the monster behind the curtain while the sun was up, averting his eyes as Kaito tried to hide his illness. A nasty little virus that he had delivered to the astronaut, making sure morale would drop near the ending stretch. Yet he dared to try and be their friends? Blaming the voices would be easier, and he did nothing but lie these days, what was one more to himself? Would any of them actually believe the pain he expressed learning of each death was genuine? That he pitied them and mourned the loss? The executions made him doubtful. Anyone creating such painful deaths clearly did not care for anything but the spectacle and misery. Shelve those false friendships, remember what you are. The blood of four people is on your hands.

Miu’s death shatters that flimsy pretense. The only one who saw a machine as worth knowing, saw it as a positive instead of a detriment was dead. The last flashback light had been too much, it had pushed her over an edge and he could never take that back. A few of the students seemed to notice she was off, but did not press. Her fevered work to modify the VR program to cover her tracks was precise, careful. Her tracks would be covered, her target would die, and then the rest would fall shortly after. He could step in, try and talk her down from this murder plot. If he was a friend. If he could explain how he'd found out. He couldn't. So he let Monokuma take Kokichi’s deal, thinking he had a plan to protect himself from Miu’s plot. He had managed to figure it out without the help of being to see everywhere, after all. He had been right, Kokichi did have a plan, said plan involved killing her. Of course it had, anything the mastermind had a cold hand in would lead to death. It had been a stupid hope, thinking it might have kept both of them alive a little bit longer. (He needed her to build things, they’d been getting along okay, did the answer have to be death?) Kokichi reveled in the negative attention, drawing all eyes to him. It was all lies, but everyone seemed to buy his declaration. Couldn’t they see his smile was a bit fixed, that he barely stopped to breathe as he ‘gloated’ about being better than them, how he felt nothing for Gonta? That wasn’t joy, it was hysteria. This was a ploy, but what he intended to accomplish with it, the robot couldn’t understand. Maybe he would have fallen for it if he couldn't see how the boy trembled while hidden and alone. So he kept his hands off and ‘hated’ the smaller boy with the rest.

Having someone play at being the mastermind and locking down all his firepower had been unexpected. It was bold, to try and flush out the true mastermind like this. Kokichi had almost slipped when Himiko pointed out Rantaro’s corpse, but managed to keep up the farce. The motive card had only shown the video after all, and Tsumugi had made that before the grisly new addition to the scene. Even Kaede’s endless optimism faltered with Kaito a coughing, bleeding hostage to insure their good behaviour. Shuichi was left to keep Maki back on his own, having to point out they had to be careful to save Kaito later. Really, the ploy was genius. Bore the mastermind into action and catch them. It wasn’t as if Kokichi could account for his ability to fabricate new flashback lights on a whim. He clutched the new flashback light for a long time, the urge to simply smash it and let the voices be bored was incredibly strong. A pointless sentiment. At least it was almost funny that he had to fall back on his original purpose, to be a bringer of hope in order to get the murder everyone wanted.

Managing to blank out all the cameras and hiding the survivor in an Exisal to obscure the killer and victim was exciting in a way. If he lost like this, if Monokuma could not know the facts of the case, the game may truly end. That would be fine by him. Shuichi was simply too much of a seeker of truth to realize they should be taking the offered lie and running with it, to let it rest when he could only guess who was inside that red Exisal. Instead the detective worked with him, helped Monokuma determine the reality of the case. Only when it was too late did he realize handing the mastermind the answer was a mistake. How much courage had it taken to wait under a slow crushing death? How much had Kaito needed to even press that button?  If the voices truly pitied those who died, why were they here? They wanted to help, to push through. This was only happening for their sake! Kiibo may have let a bit slip there by admitting to Kaito that he believed the final words Kokichi had said to the astronaut were true, but none of the others questioned the robot. Kaito’s death was a little more pressing than the passing words of some silly blue eyed machine. Monokuma may not have been thrilled with Kaito dying before his execution was finished, but he didn’t care. The flying debris that almost hurt the others was more concerning. Was it foolish to help people that you had been tormenting and killing the entire time? Yes. Still, it felt better to do so. He was going to need to head to his lab for a quick fix, perhaps he could excuse himself from the final exploration that way. They would all know the truth soon, the voices would have their ending, and they would all despise him. At least it would be over.

Monokuma was happy to tell the students they had to determine the future of the gopher project and set them loose to explore the remaining hidden rooms and the planted clues, only Rantaro’s room remaining locked. The classic hope and despair final vote, either a risky trip back to space, discovering a new place to live, or simply give up and let the human race die here in safety. Not that there were enough people to even try and continue the human race with the chosen settings, but that would be for the post show nitpickers, his friend victims would not likely think that far ahead. From what he could tell they had already dismissed the possibility of Kaede having a twin as false. (Which was fine, it wasn't like he made for a convincing twin. He probably should have just tossed it.) He would argue that they all stay here, regardless of if they chose to discover who the mastermind was or not. That was his job now. Did he want them to find the whole truth? No. Yet he would give it to them if they pushed. When Shuichi expressed his belief in Kokichi, that his mastermind plot had been for a reason, the robot could only sigh. Why couldn’t he believe in him by just taking the lie?

His grip tightened on the stand as the conversation returned to the mastermind. Maki, too sensible, too logical.

“We can’t vote on something like this if the mastermind is among us, this whole ‘trial’ is pointless.”

“Didn’t Rantaro just make that up? Not that it mattered..."

“No, Shuichi thought there was one too. There was no reason to have a hidden door like that if there wasn’t someone hiding among us, remember?” Kaede shook her head at Himiko’s question, brow wrinkled as she pondered.

“Did we ever see it get used? It could be a false door?” Kiibo offered, struggling to keep the resignation out of his voice. They never found the card before he swiped it from Tsumugi's room.

“We got to go in there while you were gone.” the detective clarified. “It definitely isn’t fake. What I don’t get is why Monokuma wants to push some stay or go vote now. To protect the mastermind from being discovered? Kokichi must have realized something to put a target on his back like that.”

“So we just need to figure out who the mastermind is, get the answer out of them and go from there,” Maki gave everyone a sharp glare, only Shuichi managed to keep from flinching.

“Um.” Kaede stopped looking down, looking more upset than confident. “Tsumugi absolutely was the mastermind, right Shuichi?”

He nodded stiffly, averting his eyes. “The secret passage, the fact she managed to get there completely unseen, there’s no doubt she was the mastermind.”

Kaede was looking at him now. She knew. It was practically written on her face. The confusion, the betrayal was painful even if he deserved far more than that for this. “Could it be? Kiibo are you...the mastermind?”

He still had to try to dissuade her. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Think about it, there’s no other option!” she leaned forward, intent on getting the answer. “Rantaro killed Tsumugi and yet the killing game didn’t end! And all the clues point to you!”

Right again. “But! I can’t hurt human beings!” he sputtered, trying to think of a reason. “It’s not in my original programming-”

Shuichi pounced on that slip like lightning. “‘Original programming?’” the detective saw how he froze. “Does that mean...something was changed?”

Kiibo keeps his face still, not even looking at the detective. Yes. Please don’t push. Please don’t realize it doesn’t make sense for him to be changed if Tsumugi is dead and the human race is gone. Just let the lie stay.

Shuichi continued his questioning in spite of the stillness. “Were you infected by a virus?” If only. “Was your AI overwritten with something?”

He wasn’t going to be able to deny this. The voices were getting noisy again with the ‘twist’ that they had been watching from the Mastermind’s eyes the whole time. “The show has to go on.” his tone was flat, trying to ignore their reactions. “That’s what my inner voice...no. That’s what the voices told me…” It wouldn’t make this better, but he felt the need to explain. Was it pity mixing with the disgust on their faces? He clenched a fist. “...but you can’t have a killing game without despair.” The voices of the audience were silenced as he dropped his disguise as a student and tried to meet the four’s eyes as the mastermind. “The moment Tsumugi Shirogane drew her last breath I was no longer the ‘Ultimate Hope’” They were avoiding the gaze of his red eye, but he kept firm. They wanted a mastermind, to know the whole truth. So he would deliver. “Your deductions are correct. I’m the backup mastermind of this killing game.”

“Why? How could you-” Himiko still couldn’t look at him head on, but her voice was strong enough.

He laughed, needing to grip the podium to keep stable. “Why? I said why!” It was almost funny how no one listened, even when he admitted to being a complete monster. “Ask Kaede, or your detective! You know, don’t you?”

“You said this was a show.” Shuichi was hesitating, hands reaching for a hat that was no longer there. “So that means-”

“Every flashback light was fake.” Maki finished, regaining her composure faster than the others. She had managed to turn that confusion into proper hatred now. “Made up for someone else’s amusement.”

“Correct. You’re all as fake as I am.” his shrug was dismissive. It would be easier if they simply hated him and moved on with their lives after this, but the world wouldn’t accept an ending where they didn’t overcome despair. “There is no Gopher Project, there is no Ultimate Hunt and all your memories are fabrications. I set you all up. You died as entertainment,” he kept the red eye turned towards Maki as he tried goading her “Kaito really should have been more careful about what he ate.”

The absolute fury in her clenched teeth and stiff posture said more than any words. Yet Kaede stepped in, trying to get the assassins attention. “Revenge isn’t what Kaito wanted, Maki. Just hold on.”

“So these voices are-”

“The audience. The real world. My creator, and yours.” The robot snapped his fingers, letting the comments of those watching fill the screens that surrounded the courtroom. “The world might as well be over for all of you. You don’t belong there. Nothing you recall, no one you know exists. There are only these people. Who see you as entertaining toys.”

“No one else here is a robot! No one made us!” Himikio’s denial was honestly surprising.

“I suppose you can think that, if it makes you happy. The fact hundreds of thousands of people watched me have you slaughter one another and did not lift a finger to help you remains the truth,” he glanced at the screens. They liked watching his ‘friends’ be crushed. “I just gave them what they wanted. What they demanded.” The humans kept silent for a time, discomfort clear as they watched the casual words drift by. Realizing you were just a prop was likely harder for those of flesh and blood, judging by how they paled.

“So you’re a coward.”

He tilted his head at Maki’s spat words “More of an idiot than a coward. But yes.”

“You could have stopped all of this, but you didn’t.”

“Do you honestly think I wanted this?” Anger slipped into his voice as his shoulders hunched. “How did you put it, Himiko? A robot is useful by blowing itself up, I think? If that’s what you do with a useful one, what will a human do to a useless one?”

She shied back from his question, prior bravery apparently gone. That, or she knew the answer perfectly well. They would do whatever they wanted, a robot was just a tool.

“Then you should have died!”

“You’d still be here, having this conversation!” he glared at Maki, frustrated that she didn’t notice the obvious problem. “It would just be a slightly different version of me. One that never gave a single care for any of you. They talk in my head, you can’t honestly think they can’t just control me!”

“You never had a choice.” Kaede’s words cut deeper than any of Maki’s, even without the accusatory tone. She pitied him. After all of this, she still felt bad for some machine. “Did you stay to protect us?”

Why did she care? He’d failed! He didn’t even manage to let their game end without exposing all the mysteries they tried to solve were pointless window dressing for them to play with as they got on with killing each other. “No. I just wanted to live, as Maki said. We are not friends.” Friends did not kill friends. Friends did not notice a murder plan and just watch it happen. He didn’t deserve to feel anything about them.

“So why did you mention your ‘old’ title?” Shuichi prompted, looking distracted.

“I’m not very good at dramatics, but hope being twisted into despair is rather impactful.” At least, he thought it might have been. “We’re getting off topic. I have told you the reality that awaits you,” he paused to gesture as the scrolling comments, the constant refrains of loving to see them in pain clear as day. “That world that has used you is all that awaits you. You can choose to leave, to insist you can face it and deal with the consequences. Being closer to them will not make them see you as people with thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams. After all, they had a first person view all this time, and still they say these things,” his disgust was genuine. He probably should have covered it better with disinterest.

“A first person view?” Himiko was shaking a little, keeping her hat tipped down to avoid reading anymore.

“They could see through my eyes when I was fooling you. That was my original purpose...Rantaro just made the need for a backup plan rather urgent,” his shrug was stiff, unable to act completely at ease. “This is how they act towards people like you. They were your friend, and could tell me how to act before this. This is how they treat people they like. Do you really want to go out there?”

The magician seemed to crumble in on herself, completely silent in the face of that reality. So she was not his replacement. Maki was too angry...would it be Kaede or Shuichi that led the rest to the end despite it all? Or perhaps he would be the one to ‘win’. It was likely only his original programming speaking, but he still didn’t really want despair to win.

“Or you simply choose to stay here. It may be a killing game, but you know who’s behind it now, and have no reason to want to escape. It would be relatively peaceful, with no one watching. You could pretend everything was normal.” He offered the second option as the silence stretched on, watching for reactions. “Hope and leave. Despair and stay. That’s all there is to it.” Nothing. Tsumugi likely would have been gloating at this point, or at least trying to goad for a reaction. Though it wasn’t as if Team DanganRonpa could complain, he wasn’t made for this, in the most literal sense.

"Does it really matter what the people watching think of us? The world is a big place," her voice strengthened as she went on, trying to catch her friend's eyes. "We're still real, no matter what they did to us. We all know that!"

Shuichi leaned over, whispering something to Kaede. What reason would there be to whisper now? Whatever he said had cheered her up somewhat, straightening while nodding at the detective.

“You said the voices could tell you how to act Kiibo. Does that mean right now, they can't?”

Shuichi’s question threw him. “The audience cannot speak to me while I’m like this. It would have exposed who the mastermind was if they could.” He covered the eye with his palm, ignoring the discomfort warning him from touching the lens with metal. “The ones in charge still can.”

“Don’t they just want an ending? Who says it needs to be their choices?” Kaede added, somehow still managing to smile.

“...That is how this works. The mastermind acts for despair, and the rest of you attempt to overcome that for hope. You pick one or the other and it ends. There are not any other choices to make.” he looked down at his hand, puzzlement prompting him to try and focus. Had he missed something? "That is why we were made, to act out their story."

“...bet there’s some dumb catch for the good side though to make the bad end look good.” Himiko mumbled, roused somewhat by the confidence the detective and pianist were showing.

“Hope does ask for two sacrifices, but you all seemed so put out it didn’t seem worth mentioning.”

“Well you keep mentioning ‘hope’. You already said the mastermind is the despair option, but who is standing in for the hope one?” Shuichi pressed again after sharing a glance with the others in the room.

“Whomever of you manages to get your friends out of the negative perceptions the mastermind is creating. So honestly, I don’t know.” Kiibo crossed his arms, uncertain on where they were going with this. It seemed like it might be Kaede, based on how she was the one trying to get them all to ignore the fact they were all pointless fakes.

“Well if the ultimate hope and the mastermind were the same person, we wouldn’t be able to pick, right?” She made it sound so simple.

...Would that work? No. He lost any right to that title. “They can't be the same person.”

“Weren’t you saying they built you for that first one?” Maki asked, though her dislike was still evident.

“Well assuming they can be the same person, couldn’t they just end this? The mastermind is in charge, and if we simply can’t vote because there isn’t more than one option…” Shuichi’s attempt to make it sound like a hypothetical wasn’t fooling anyone, but it did seem reasonable.

It was tempting. It wouldn’t make up for anything, but if all four could leave it was better than nothing? When was the last time he had made a choice?

"You think our lives matter, don't you?" she spoke softly, as if lying to lure a kitten out from under a bed. "Even if our pasts are fake?"

Maki didn't seem all the convinced. "Or maybe you enjoyed it and Kaede is just being Kaito right now. An idiot."

"Almost fooled me when Miu died..." Himiko's reminder only twisted the knife. Of course they mattered. Yet he hesitated. Wouldn't admitting this just make it harder? "You mean as much as I do. Nothing."

"I say our lives matter." She shoved away his insistence easily, as if they were simply talking out at the courtyard. "So if we're all the same, you matter too."

"So, can you end it? The mastermind might keep the game running, but they end it too." He was leaning forward, not letting the robot look away from him. "We don't need to care what the outside world thinks, or what they want anymore." Defiance had never seemed possible. Yet if he was acting for the others, it wasn't really disobedience. He was just following their hope. That was his purpose too, wasn't it? Well, there was an easy way to check. He pulled up the mask from his collar and attempted to call on the upgrades he had installed on the chance more violence was needed. The fact his arm responded and changed to the cannon was almost a surprise. Miu would have gotten a kick out of that. Kokichi too, really. Too dead to care now.

“Is that a yes?” Kaede had no fear of the cannon, not even considering that he could simply turn it on all four of them. It was almost Kaito levels of belief. Foolish. He was their enemy...but maybe she did truly trust he never had the desire to do this.

“You all choose to have me end this, then? To have no say?” They had no fear. There was no real happiness there, stiff upper lips and raised chins at best, but they certainly were not in some state of despair either. “Is that really what you want?”

The nods were short, no hesitation. “We do. I trust you, I trust all of our lives matter. No matter what the outside world thinks!”

He stared at the pianist for a long moment, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t.” His chiding was somewhat muffled between the mask and the high pitched whine the jets made as they fired up. “Someone smarter than me will take advantage of that.” If she responded, he didn’t hear it. He didn’t want the four’s plan to fail if those in charge suddenly objected to this course of action. A few test shots that did nothing to the dome enclosing the school meant they had prepared for that possibility. The fact the part of the school he shot at to make sure he had the power level at max exploded rather spectacularly made it clear only one weapon was going to do anything. It could still fail...but he wouldn’t be around to be disappointed. The timing was good, he knew he felt his shoulder start to clip the dome as the self destruct timer hit zero. Whatever happened next would be up to those four. He could hope whatever it was would be better than here, at least. They’d suffered enough.

[nightwingshero]

Hold Me Down Chapter 2

Yasss! Not only did I find the original chapter, but it’s way better than it was before. I’m super happy for this one! @ja-crispea @chazz-anova @faithchel I thought it would be important for you to know what happened with Wren and her ice cream, because let’s be honest, that’s the true ship of this fic. There’s the twist, spoiler alert. Wren x Ice cream.

It was a hot day, hotter than what it had been for the past few days. I huffed as I made my ascent, my ponytail swayed, sweat gathering at the back of my neck and my shoes slapped against the ruined tile as I went. A small plastic bag in one hand, and a large brown bag cradled with my arm. I was eager to enjoy the rest of my day in my apartment, eating ice cream and wallowing in my self-pity before coming up with another score. My pride was still wounded from getting caught. It pissed me off even more when I had found a chip in my throwing knife. Fucking bastard.

I hated grocery shopping only due to the fact that I didn’t like being around people. Dutch often joked to us darkly that we were in the business of people. Just that most of the time, they ended up dead. He wasn’t wrong, and perhaps that was what twisted my stomach so much. Despite him taking me off the street and teaching me everything all he knew, creating who and what I was, I could never come to agree or appreciate his values. I didn’t like killing and cutting my emotions out was nearly impossible. I was his greatest failure but was far from his greatest disappointment. No, she would always hold that place.

I freeze when I come to my floor, eyeing the man leaning against the wall next to my apartment door that was cracked open. He had a hand in his pocket, the other fidgeting with the toothpick in his mouth as he looked at his shoes. I could tell that his dark tan suit was cheap, his longish dark hair swept back just a bit, and I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose in disgust from his demeanor. I could almost guarantee that he was showered in cheap cologne as he used his false confidence to throw his weight around and I crinkled my nose at the sight of his badge on his belt. Cops. My veins turn to ice as I eye it, fear twisting in my gut. I had been so careful. But I square my shoulders, because I know my rights well enough that he needed a warrant.

“Can I help you?” I asked, my voice curious and a bit annoyed. He wasn’t welcome here, not from a long shot, and I wanted him out of my space.

He looked up, his brown eyes sweeping over me before giving me a lopsided smirk. “Well, hey there.” He straightened, shifting his weight. I eyed his stubble and his hair was gelled and combed back half assed. I fought the urge to rip into him, I didn’t need a detective who believed he was nothing by a womanizer sniffing around me. “Wren Blake, right?”

“Who’s asking?” I replied, narrowing my eyes at him.

He just chuckled. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“We?” I asked, glancing in my apartment. A woman stood taking pictures with her cell phone in gloved hands. Her dark hair was braided to the side and shined in the light my living room as she took pictures. His partner, I was sure. Her suit was crisp, the black blouse unbuttoned a bit to show off the golden cross around her neck. It’s fast, the way I take her in, but I was trained to be observant. One of the reasons I had survived as long as I have. But I’m tense as her dark eyes find mine, stern and professional. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Do you have a warrant? Because breaking and entering is illegal, Detective.”

“You bet your sweet ass we have a warrant.” The man cut in, taunting me with a smirk. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you, sweetheart. You think you could charm your way out of this?”

“Pratt.” His partner scolded before giving another glance around the apartment as she lowered the phone. She barley acknowledged the underlining threat as she turned and studied me. “Wren Marie Blake. You are wanted for assault, larceny, false pretenses, and I believe there’s a count against you for arson. There’s more, should I continue?” Her voice is confident, borderline cocky, but I don’t rise to the bait. “Wanted in many cities, at that. Word is you made quite the splash in Los Angeles. You’ve been busy.”

“And you didn’t answer my question.” I shot back, shift my weight to my other foot as I adjust the paper bag full of food. “Do you have a warrant?”

The woman took a step forward, her eyes drilling into mine. “You’ve got one helluva rep sheet, Blake.” She whipped a piece of paper out in front of me and I frowned. “And I’m going to need you to come with us.”

I sigh, glaring at the floor by her feet. Defeated, I sigh. “Fine, but can I at least put my food away? I have ice cream in here.”

 I couldn’t tell you how long I waited in the interrogation room, but it felt like hours. The room was only lit by shitty fluorescent lighting that gave the room a more eerily feel. I could almost roll my eyes from the drama of it. I leaned back and crossed my arms. I knew they were doing this on purpose, a tactic I wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with. It didn’t really do any good, all things considered. If anything, it gave me time to prepare for whatever they were going to slap me with and asking for a lawyer was the card up my sleeve if this went south quickly. I was ready for every scenario.

The door opened, bringing my attention from my inner musings and to the four people that had graced me with their presence. Two of them were the same detectives I had seen earlier, Thing One and Thing Two. An older man stood next to them, to the side with big glasses and a weird mustache. I could take a guess that he was the Captain of the precinct, but I wasn’t for sure. The other man was pretty much bald, his hair cut tight against his head, and a goatee that almost had me laughing. His dark skin looked almost pale with the lighting of the room, especially with the cheap blue suit and white oxford shirt underneath. He held himself with an air of authority that put him on a pedestal. I groaned internally. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get along with this man.

He slammed a file down on the metal table, watching me close for a reaction, and I raised a brow at him. It was apparent he had an air for dramatics. “I’m Special Agent Cameron Burke, this is Captain Whitehorse, and you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting Detective Pratt and Detective Hudson.” Ah. He was a fed. That explained so much. He leaned against the chair in front of me as he stared me down. “You see that? We have a whole file against you. You’re gonna go away for a long time.”

I just continued to stare at him, unimpressed. “Yeah. It’s a file. That was a little unnecessary, don’t you think? Things echo in here.”

He sneered. “You think this is funny? A game?”

“No, on the contrary, I find this rather irritating. What so-called evidence do you have against me?” I replied icily. I didn’t have the patience for this, I wanted the hell out of here. He smirked and flipped open the file, spreading pictures and documents across the table.

I kept my face neutral, still unimpressed, but my insides were panicked. I schooled my expression as I studied the black and white shots of me doing different jobs in different cities. Some in wigs, different outfits, and even one from last night before I had walked into the charity gala. I studied the bank statements from an offshore account before I looked at him. “What’s this supposed to prove? Other than the fact that you’re stalking me for no reason?”

Burke scoffed, a dark glint in his eyes. “We shook down one of your fences, Blake. I’m sure Victor Boshaw rings a bell?” He pushed a photo forward of the gruffy bearded man, and right there next to him, was me.

Victor “Sharky” Boshaw was a fence I had been using for a few years, first meeting in Montana. He was completely erratic an unorthodox, and definitely obnoxious. There wasn’t ever a boring moment with that idiot. But I could always depend on him to move whatever I brought him, and he always gave me a decent price. One of the few people in the market that didn’t screw me over, and as off-the-wall he was, he wasn’t snitch. Sharky always had my back, I knew better. He wouldn’t say a damn thing.

I glared at him. “You’re starting to sound like my father who is telling me its illegal to have friends.”

His face burned as he shoved the chair out of his way, slamming his hands on the table. I jumped as he growled at me. “I’ve had it with your bullshit!” I pursed my lips as his eyes pinned me down. “Look, I’ve been onto you, watching you for a few years now. I know you have ties that you try to hide. I’ve been trying to pin down Dutch and that entire organization.”

I paled immediately, swallowing as I felt my body become weightless. That wasn’t expected. “What?” I breathed out and he smirked.

“That’s right, princess. I know all about that.” He slowly straightened, crossing his arms as he began to circle me. “Taking teenagers off the streets, kids that have no future or have been victims of tragedy. Training them young is key, isn’t it? Teaching how to steal, trick, and to read people. Running cons…but it gets a bit darker than that, doesn’t it? That’s just tip of the iceberg.”

I clench my teeth as flashbacks hit me. The abandoned factory had lighting much like this room. It was always cold in that damn place, and the memory sent a chill down my spine. I hated that building. I hated the way that I had looked up to him as a father figure as he put a knife in my hand, and a gun next. Hand-to-hand combat, knife throwing, shooting…the real operation was far darker than stealing diamonds from a plastered elite.

He grabbed the back of my chair leaning to talk in my ear, the smell of his hot coffee breath fanned across my face. “Training future hitmen and assassins in the underground is definitely something the FBI is interested in taking down. I’ve tracked your every step; I have eyes and ears everywhere. Sounds like a certain someone is pretty upset that their perfect little protégé turned her back on them.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How the hell had he found out? My palms became sweaty, my heart racing as thoughts flew through my mind. I wanted to scream out of frustration, but I knew I couldn’t. That stupid male detective, Pratt, wouldn’t stop smirking and I was ready to claw his face off. My pride was shot to hell and I was pissed that he had known.

“It would be…such a shame if someone were to leak your position to them, wouldn’t it?”

Pure dread settled in as anger raged through my veins. I clenched my fists tightly. “What’s your point?” I hissed. Burke moved again, walking away with a sickening swagger.

“Well, despite the fact that we’re hunting down Dutch and his posse, it occurs to me that well…it seems a bit pointless to use you to track him down with you being defective.” I flinched at his word choice when he finally turned back to me. “The DA believes he has a bigger issue than what us feds have going on, being less concerned for the bigger picture. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Seed family by now?” I furrowed my brow as I looked at him. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Perfect. That makes this easier.”

“What do they have to do anything? What’s your point?”

Hudson stepped forward with another file, placing it down like a normal human being. “Joseph Seed is at the head of a major crime family, as you know.” Flipping the file open, she placed four pictures in front of me, pointing as she went. “His brother Jacob is in charge of security and running guns. He’s involved with underground fighting rings and training their personnel. His military background helps him out, obviously.” His beard was gruffer than Sharky’s, but his red hair was to the side, with a tight cut on the side. Scars littered his face, almost like burn marks. She would recognize those anywhere. “Then there’s the little sister. The little angel. We don’t have much detail on her, but as far as I know, she seems to be the one recruiting. She’s also their loan shark, so to speak. She also helps set up deals for this one,” she lands on a picture of a man I’m all too familiar with. “In particular. And he is hard to tie down. John is their lawyer, and he’s a damn good one. Knows how to read people like the back of his hand. He’s known for extortion, blackmail, and a few others. He has a lot of important people in his back pocket, making him practically untouchable. And as scary and dangerous as Jacob is, John is the one to look out for. He is known for cutting into people as punishment and is merciless.”

“Grade A psycho.” Pratt muttered with a twist of his mouth and his eyes cast downward.

“The point is, if I had to choose, he’s going to be the most dangerous to you.” Hudson continued, and I looked up at her confused. They hadn’t known about what happened a couple nights ago, did they?

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What the fuck do I have to be worried about? That sounds like your problem.” I replied with a snarky tone, and Hudson glared at me with her jaw ticking.

“Its your problem,” Finally, the Captain spoke and stepped forward a bit. He tried to seem confident, but there was a weariness that I couldn’t exactly place. “Because you’re going to be working with them.”

I stared at him as I let it sink in, and turned my gaze to the fed. “What?” I whispered harshly.

Burke seemed to be enjoying this a little too much as he grinned like the damn Cheshire cat. “We’re going to use those skills of yours to our advantage, since you’re here with your hands tied and off Dutch’s radar. You’re going in as a double agent for us. You’ll be feeding us intel as you spy on the family and help us take them down by providing incriminating evidence that will put them away for life. Things that even the baby brother can’t weasel out of.”

“Are you fucking insane?” I breathed out, eyes wide. “You want me to be a mole? Do you know how hard it is to get into a family like that? And assuming that, by some fucking miracle, I do…you know what they do to people like that? Do you have any fucking idea what they would do to me? They would kill me after making an example of me, you know they would!” I snapped. Frustration was so close to turning to tears as I shifted in the metal chair, but I quickly blinked them away.

“Then I suggest not getting caught.” Burke sneered. “But you would die for a greater cause, Blake. Maybe that makes you feel better.”

“And if I say no?”

He leaned forward slowly, menacingly, and got in my face. “You’re either with us or against us. You either do this…or you go to prison. From my position, it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice. But what do you say? You in or are you out?”

   I walked quickly in the Georgia night, anger and determination fueling every step. I stopped only to light a cigarette, inhaling and savoring the burn in my lungs. I was nothing but a bundle of nerves. They had told me the family would be at the club tonight, celebrating something, but their intel was good. My mind reeled, trying to come up with a plan that could even work. I hadn’t told Burke that John and I had already met, making this nearly impossible. I contemplated approaching him, admitting what was happening, and then getting the hell out of dodge. But the feds were following my every move now, and there was no guarantee John would let me walk away from that meeting alive.

I was going to do this my way, at my pace, and on my own. I had insisted. A dead informant wasn’t exactly beneficial. They laid down the ground rules with check ins and all that. I wasn’t allowed to leave town, let alone the state. I had to stay where they could keep an eye on me at all times. Something told me that Burke had a control issue.

I looked at the half-smoked cigarette before throwing it on the concrete, smashing it with my heel. My black dress hugged my curves tightly, the plunging neckline just subtle enough to keep the classy look. I kept my hair down again, curled just a bit. I pulled it up a bit, adjusting the top so my boobs weren’t spilling out. I sometimes loved this side of it, dressing up in cute, and even sexy, outfits. Sometimes I absolutely hated it, and tonight was one of those nights. I had planned to take it easy for a while, but after the loving conversation with the officers earlier, I had a change of heart. Apparently.

All it took for the bouncer to let me in was a bat of my lashes and coy smile, which I dropped the second I crossed the threshold. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but a dark lounge wasn’t it. Not that I complained at all, considering that I’ve had a rough day so far. I took the dimmed lights, the neon accents creating an ambiance of something I couldn’t quite describe. But it was as if I had stepping into a completely different world. I could get lost to the music playing through the speakers as a group of people danced.

Making my way to the bar, I motioned for the bartender as I folded my hands in my lap with my clutch. I smile brightly at the younger man. Blonde, curly hair with bright eyes, and maybe just a little too eager. I lean forward just a tad, a small smile on my lips. “Martini, dry with extra olives.”

He gave a quick nod before hastily getting everything together, but I paid him no mind. I searched, my eyes scanning face after face, desperate for the target. Detective Hudson had sworn they would be here, no doubt in her mind. Well, good for her. That didn’t ease my doubt one bit. Then again that she had to say could, I felt like I was being fed to the wolves. I hated every bit of it. The bartender returned, placing the glass down gently. I knew he was waiting to engage, but I just grabbed it and kept my attention on the crowd. I wasn’t here for social hour. I was here to watch. And so, I did, taking a sip of my drink.

I spot the sister first. A perfect white short dress with sleeves, her hair falling in waves and her ankles are crossed, ever the lady. Then the rest came into view, my heart pounding hard. A red-haired woman sat with her, holding her hand. They had mentioned that there were significant others, spouses, involved, and as I find Joseph Seed, I see his blonde wife with him. His hair is long, pulled back into a bun, and even though it was late at night and inside, he wore yellow aviators. Just like he had in the photo.

“I believe,” a voice called from behind me, and I freeze for only a second as he placed his hand on the bar behind me, his breath ruffling my hair as spoke in my ear. “I told you the next time I saw you, I would kill you.”

I take another drink as he moved from me, circling around with his eyes on me before taking the seat next to mine. Finally, I found my tongue and spine. “I think it was ‘if I catch you doing this again, I won’t hesitate to kill you’. If I remember correctly.”

John gave a charming smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “You think you’re clever.”

“No, I know I’m clever.” I scoffed, taking another sip, my eyes falling on his family again. I finally see his other brother, Jacob, standing with his arms crossed in his grey shirt.

“How cute.” he taunted. I opened my mouth to say something, but that’s when I see her. It takes all the years of my training to maintain my composure, because there was nothing I would love to do than to let the glass in my hand shatter against the floor. Rowan.

She looked the same, just a few more years older. Her dark hair was still long and wavy, her bright smile hadn’t changed a bit. It’s a shock that I can’t really shake, because she’s there, after all these years. I had thought she died, someone finally hunted her down. That’s what Dutch led us, me, to believe. To prove and show what happened if you turned your back on the family. And yet, here we both were, survivors of the dark world Dutch had brought us in.

I feel a hand on my knee the second her dark eyes catch mine and move away, not even hesitating as she looked around the room and the hand squeezed, bringing my attention to the company I was keeping. “I warned you about coming near my family.”

I turned to him with a glare. “You threatened me with your family’s name, and if I’m being honest here, I’m getting tired of it, Johnny.” I sneered, shoving his hand off my knee. I grabbed the toothpick out of my drink, angrily eating the olives. I glanced over again, but she continued to laugh in that dark green dress, like she hadn’t seen a blast from her past. As if she didn’t know me at all. It stung, but I couldn’t tell if her noticing me was a good thing or not. She would blow the whole thing before I could even get started.

John’s mouth twisted and I felt my stomach sink in dread at the realization of what I had just done. Rowan was just one issue, but I completely forgot the one sitting with me. “Better be careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire and you’ve been warned already.”

“And you owe me a new knife, Johnny. They are custom made and expensive, and due to your carelessness, the one has a chip in it. Where shall I send the bill?”

“You’re not as charming as you think you are, darling.” He leaned in with a sneer, his eyes promising danger. “And my patience is running very thin with it.”

I leaned forward, my nose crinkling unimpressed. “And you’re not nearly as scary as you believe you are. Now, if you don’t mind, run and get the big bad brother. I’m above dealing with the baby, Johnny Boy.”

His hand flew back to my leg, squeezing and digging his fingers hard into the meat of my leg. My back straightened as I clenched my teeth from the mix of pain and something else. I kept my composure the best I could, but I never hated John Seed more than I did in this moment. Pure loathing like venom on my tongue for the way he always found the upper hand.

“Would you like another, miss?”

I turned to see the young bartender smiling at me, his eyes wandering down before meeting my eyes again. “No.” John replied, throwing the guy a charming smile. “She’s just leaving.”

“Cool. Well, it’s on the house.” He said, throwing me a wink. I gave a fake smile as he walked away.

“It most certainly is not on the house.” John snapped. “I’m not paying for your drink.”

I raised a brow at him. “Oh, the big-time lawyer owns a bar and can’t afford to buy a lady a drink?”

“It’s a lounge.” He growled at me. “And you are not a lady.”

I smirked, my hand finding its way back into my clutch. Grabbing what I was looking for, I quickly press the tip of my knife against his inner thigh. He stiffened, and my burgundy lips curved even more. “Now, I think that you should know a few things about me, darling.” I leaned, my lips finding his ear to whisper. “I don’t like it when men feel the need to put their hands on me without my permission, no matter how big they think they are. And when they do, well…I’m very skilled with knives, John. I’m sure you can use your imagination. Now, if you don’t mind.” He slowly removed his hand, and as he did, I shifted, rising from the barstool. “Thank you. You’re such a dear. Here’s to hoping our next meeting is as lovely as this one.”

“You should hope we don’t meet again, sweetheart. Because I’m not going to be so kind anymore.” He breathed out, his voice ice. I placed a kiss on his cheek.

“If this was you call being kind, then I look forward to seeing the big bad wolf. I don’t mind playing rough. Just make sure you can take it as well as you can dish it.”

I move away before he can register and react. My heart was hammering in my chest, shocked by what I had just done and cursing myself. I was supposed to get in and win them over, and instead I was antagonizing the youngest and one of the most crucial members of that damn family. The one that I needed to watch out for even before any of this happened. And no one knew. I made the decision to keep it to myself out of fear. If they thought I couldn’t do it, I would’ve been done for. I needed to play along until I could find a way out of this damn mess.

I took a turn, a block away from the lounge, and I started to relax. The fear of him coming after me melted away with each step. Passing a dark alley, I slowed to light a cigarette for good measure. A hand slapped my cigarette and lighter out of my hands, and another grabbed a fistful of hair, painfully yanking it back. Fear pierced its way into my chest as I tried to fight back, a black bag being shoved over my head. I screamed, punching and kicking blindly. I suddenly felt sharp pain at the base of my neck, and I dropped to the ground.

  `The bag got yanked off harshly, and I squinted from the bright light. It took me a moment to adjust, and then I was finally able to take in my surroundings. I was in a mansion, that was obvious. Marble floors with weird ass designs that rich people swore made them look classier. That was a fucking lie. There was a double staircase wrapping around the room, and directly across from me, the double doors were open and gave me a good view of their pool area at night as thin white curtains danced in the evening breeze.

I go to move, but find my wrists and ankles were duct taped to the chair I was sitting in. It was then that I finally took account for the bulky men in black, standing around quietly with their hands clasped behind their backs. “Well, look who decided to wake up!” A loud and obnoxious southern voice pierced my eardrums, making me cringe. An overweight older gentleman began to make his way towards me, a cane in his hand. He wore just a polo and tan dress pants. I made a face at his sleazy appearance, the slicked back hair and stupid mustache. “It’s about damn time. We have some business to discuss.”

I sighed heavily, a sneer on my lips. “Oh, you got to be kidding me.” He stopped his advance for a moment, glaring at me. But I didn’t care. Tossing all caution to the wind, my anger got the best of me. “I’m not in the fucking mood for any of you. Do you know what kind of day I’ve had? Seriously? What is this? Some backwash hillbilly mob family from the fucking Georgia swamps? Is this what I’ve come to? Which one is the jackass?” I snapped.

His mouth twisted, and he moved faster than I had given him credit for. The sting of my face and the blood that filled my mouth was the only way I registered him hitting me. I spit out blood on his floor, some running down my chin as I slowly gave him a death glare. “Now I have your attention. Damn women.” He turned to the side, eyeing an older blonde in a red dress. She pursed her lips as she held her head high. “None of you listen. It’s why they should never do a damn man’s job. But here we are.”

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” I growled.

He scoffed. “Hurk Drubman Sr. I own one of the biggest marinas in Atlanta, selling sailboats. Also give those damn Seeds a run for their money when it comes to smuggling and gun dealing.”

“Haven’t been giving them much of a run, darlin’.” The blonde mocked with a smirk. He muttered something before turning back to me.

“I heard that you’re gonna help those damn feds take ‘em down. That true?”

I just stared at him, my face twisting in shock at the absurdity of the situation. “Where the fuck did you hear that?” I asked, completely exasperated.

“John fucking Seed isn’t the one with ties in the fucking police department.” I frowned, but he didn’t give me time to process that. “Either way, they’re undermining my slave trade, beating my gun deals—”

“Your…what?” I asked, hoping I heard him wrong.

His sick smile grew wider. “Slave trade, girlie. Sex trafficking. Its what’s making most of my money with that damn family taking the most of our business. And if you’re a good girl, you won’t have to worry about it.” A shiver went down my spine as I tried to wriggle in my restraints, but he paid me no mind. “Now, I know you cut a deal with those pigs downtown, but don’t worry about that. What I need you to do, is spy on them and get me information that will help my business grow.”

I sighed, giving up and glaring at the old man. “Are you serious? You expect me to play the Seeds and the feds? What the hell is wrong with this city?” I breathed out. “You’re insane. I would be lucky to even get close—”

“You got pretty close tonight.” He snarked back. “Left a pretty little mark on little Johnny’s check, my men say.” He walked, a cane in his hand as he limped forward. “We can do this the easy way, which is you agreeing and being a good little girl, doing what she’s told. Or, we could do this the hard way. I torture you, force you to agree, and if that doesn’t work…well, I could sell you or kill you. We could flip on it, make it a surprise.”

I forced the bile back down as my stomach twisted. I glanced to my right, catching the eyes of the old woman. She held a frown, glaring at her husband. When her eyes caught mine, she gave the slightest smile and nod, almost reassuring. “Well, let’s assume I say yes and do this, what do you plan on doing? You have the feds on my ass, and if your men aren’t totally blind, they would know that John and I aren’t exactly friendly. I don’t know what you expect.”

“I would like you to learn the ins and outs. Nothing too different than what you’re already doin’. Except you’re gonna give the information to me, frame the family, and take them down from the inside, while I get all their business.”

I made a face. “Oh, you’ve been watching way too many movies. There’s no fucking way—”

The end of the cane was pressed against my throat, cutting me off completely as I gagged. “There is a fucking way.” He leaned in closer, the cane pressing harder. I fidgeted, trying to catch my breath. “And I know something the feds don’t. That tonight hasn’t been your first run-in with John. They know you went to that stupid charity gala, but they have no clue what happened. Johnny can be handsy, can’t he? Especially when he finds out you’re workin’ a job on his turf.”

Stepping back, he finally removed the cane. I took a greedy breath of air. “Then you know that it’s going to be impossible. He hates me. And I would take him ignoring my personal space over this. He isn’t the one that has kidnapped me and tied me to a goddamn chair.”

Hurk laughed, with a shake of his head. “Not yet, he hasn’t. You think is bad, sweetheart? Oh, you’re not that smart, are you? Johnny would have you in the dark with knives digging into that pretty skin of yours, and he would be more than happy to do the honors. And he’s done it to men who have done less than what you’ve done already. People don’t get a second warning from the Seeds. You have, and I’m goin’ to use that.”

I rolled my eyes. “The fact is that I’m on some seriously thin ice with that man, and I won’t be able to get away with whatever it is you have planned. He won’t let me anywhere near that family.”

“You’re going to do this, and I don’t care what you have to do to do it. Become one of his coked-up buddies he keeps around, for all I fucking care. If you value your life, you’ll do this.”

Silence fell between us as I stared at the shiny floor. I weighed my options, not that I had many, and I couldn’t find a way to get out of this one. It just went from bad to worse in less than 24 hours, and I couldn’t believe the amount of trouble I had brought upon myself from going to one damn gala. Swallowing my pride was bitter, but I did it anyway. “Fine.” I bit out. “Whatever. I’ll help you steal the business and take the family down.”

A twist of guilt settled in the pit of my stomach as Hurk smiled. “Perfect! I’m so glad we could see eye to eye. I look forward to our business relationship, Blake.”

“And what do I get out of this?” I asked with a roll of my eyes.

“Hmm…well, how about you don’t go to prison? That you’ll get to leave Atlanta? I think that seems fair, don’t you?”

No. “Sure.” Not in the fucking slightest.

He gave a nod to his men. “Get her out of here. I’m done.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but only a strangled shout of surprise escaped at the black bag returned, blinding me once more.

 They had dragged me out of the damn house and thrown me into a van, fully restrained. I had no idea where we were going, but it wasn’t a smooth ride. It’s when we stop do they finally pull the damn bag off and cut my restraints. The bulky man grabbed me while the other slide the door open with more force than necessary, and the shoved me out before speeding away.

I hit the concrete hard, my palms and knees immediately getting scraped. I grunted in frustration as I sat on the sidewalk, yanking my heels off. My body was exhausted, muscles screaming at me with bruises forming on my leg. There were angry red lines on my wrists, complimenting the tattoos on my wrists. I wanted nothing more than a cigarette, and I cursed, realizing that they never returned the clutch purse I had. Anger swelled in me and I fought to keep the tears at bay. I had smoked more in the last few days than I had in months. I had quit, but the new stress was threatening to give me the habit again, and I was more than pissed that I couldn’t indulge in this moment.

Snatching my feels off the ground, I stood and walked into my apartment building. I longed for my bed, and I was set and determined to do absolutely nothing tomorrow. I could practically hear my ice cream calling for me.

The stairs were harder to take than they were this morning, and I hated every step I took with a fiery passion. This night, this whole day, had been nothing but a clusterfuck, and I didn’t know how all this shit could happen in 24 hours. Arrested, manhandled twice, threatening and being threatened, finding a new way to piss off the youngest Seed, being kidnapped, hit, blackmailed…what the fuck could happen next? I was done with the bullshit. I could put a smile on my face, figuratively, and agree to help Drubman so I could get the fuck out of there. I could off both parties while I made arrangements. I was getting the fuck out of dodge while I could, while I was still breathing.

Coming to the floor, it was like déjà vu. I froze seeing the door to my apartment wide open and dread settled heavily in the pit of my stomach. I rushed forward, my hands resting on the doorframe as I looked around.

The door had clearly been kicked in, the frame busted and a small dent in the cheap door. I swallowed as I took in the busted coffee table, torn up and flipped couch and chair. My TV was on and flickering, the screen cracked as the static filled the room. I stepped in cautiously, watching my bare feet so not to step in the broken glass of the table and some of my vases. Water, rocks, and flowers littered the floor. Down the hall, I could see my bed flipped on its side with the bedding ripped to shreds, the feathers from the comforter and pillows blanketing everything like freshly fallen snow.

The kitchen wasn’t spared, with cabinets thrown open, and broken glasses and plate along the counter tops and floor. My fridge and freezer were left ajar as food had been strewn, almost shoved, from its place. My face twisted and I clenched my fist at the site of melted ice cream on the tile. The wall against my counter bar held my busted landline and a note with my knives embedded in the wall to hang it. The same knives that was in my clutch.

I stepped forward and read the note, each line fueling my anger more and more. A threat, clear as day, from my most humble hosts this evening. My hand fell to my side as I look around hopelessly. It was a message within itself. The note was just a cherry on top. Whatever the Drubmans had planned, they were serious, and they wanted to make it clear. I did get some relief when I spotted my clutch on my small kitchen table, my cell phone falling out.

Grabbing it with shaking hands, I send a quick text, trying hard to focus on the keyboard. We need to meet asap. Tomorrow afternoon good?

I only waited a few more minutes before I received the confirmation text, and I fall to my knees, clinging the phone to my chest as I run my hand through my hair. The shaking becomes worse and I let out a sob as the tears break through. I can’t help the panic attack, there’s nothing for me cling to in order to keep me from the spiral. It’s a mixture of rage, helplessness, and stress. I didn’t ask for any of this. I wanted a better life, and I tried to stay in my lane the best I could, keeping my head down. And in less than a week, I had the threat of a rival crime family and the feds breathing down my neck. And worst of all, the potential of Dutch finding me was too close for comfort. Everything I had built, all the work I had done over the years, would come tumbling down around me. And I didn’t even have the chance to process of Rowan being alive. I needed to leave, get out of Atlanta as fast as I could, and never look back.

[paulisweeabootrash]

Followup on Evangelion

This post was supposed to happen quite a while ago, but stuff happened and I forgot to do stuff so here we are.  Like I did with my Re:ZERO followup, I just wanted to come back to look more broadly at the rest of the series here instead of getting into individual episodes.  I previously talked about eps. 1--8, so this encompasses everything 9--26.

Before we get to the actual review, though, I need to tell you something bout my background, and consequently one of my biggest pet peeves.  I’m an engineering psychologist by training, and so although I’m not remotely qualified for the clinical side of things that people always associate with psychologists, I do know a fair amount about normal thought processes.  And you know what I am absolutely certain of?  Freud was wrong.  I don’t understand why we give him so much attention in intro-level psych classes, and I suspect that people often come out of those classes knowing less about psychology than they would if they hadn’t taken the class at all because they’re required to learn about Freud.  Freud was influential, sure, but that’s mainly a bug, not a feature.  He tried to develop an all-encompassing model of normal development and cognition based entirely on psychiatric patients (maybe not the greatest approach?) and ended up with a body of work so ad hoc handwavy that philosopher Karl Popper used it as an example of something “unfalsifiable” -- that is, one could not even in theory run an experiment which would prove Freud wrong, because there are no specific observable results that Freud’s theories couldn’t produce an explanation/excuse for like some kind of game of research Calvinball.  He maybe deserves to be mentioned as one of many “founders” of psychology, but really, unless you’re in a class on the philosophy of science or the early precursors to actually scientific mental healthcare, I cannot understand why we think he’s worth discussing in any detail.  Do we start chemistry classes with a week on the ancient Greek elements of earth, water, air, fire, and ether, and test students on the final on the theory of how those elements interact?  No?  Then why do we start psychology classes with a week on Freud’s theories and test students on the final on defining the id, ego, and superego or the psychosexual stages of development?

Why is this relevant?  Because the second half of the series gets frequently and intensely Freudian.  Some people draw parallels between Asuka, Rei, and Shinji and the Id, Superego, and Ego, and yeah, okay, I guess so, but I’m willing to accept that as a character dynamic that works well.  Then, in the backstory episode about the establishment of NERV, we get exposition about the three-part Magi computer system being different aspects of its creator’s personality, which is pretty hard to not see as another id-superego-ego set.  My real issue is with the psychosexual angle.  Misato, for example, can’t stay way from her ex Ryoji, but also repeatedly compares him to her father, including immediately after an off-screen (but voice acted) sex scene.  There’s an entire out-of-body experience episode where Shinji, temporarily merged with his Eva, directly experiences his own subconscious desires for sex and praise that all boil down to “he misses his mother” (who is filled in for, in a way, by Misato here, as she is the person who brings him back out of the Eva into the world and the first person he encounters when “born”, if you will... and of course in true Freudian fashion, she appears as one of his possible sexual partners in the out-of-body experience).  And I just... hate that aspect of the show and need you to know it.

That is not at all to say I haven’t enjoyed and appreciated the rest of Evangelion, though.  The angels, varied and bizarre, are one of the best uses of the monster of the week format I’ve seen in any show.  Their capabilities are poorly-understood even to those shown to be experts in-universe, and they are a genuine threat to the characters.  Serious injuries to pilots and Evas alike are common, and the number of implied or explicit civilian deaths and the amount of damage to Tokyo-3 and NERV HQ escalate dramatically.  They are, ludicrous technobabble explanations aside, a truly and horrifyingly alien opponent, whose motive is not even revealed until about halfway through the series, and whose potential impact (ha!) remains hidden to the main characters.  Those revelations come up organically in dialogue that establishes how secretive and how deep into mad science NERV truly is.  Blah blah spoiler spoiler, suffice it to say that Misato is not well-filled-in on what exactly NERV is doing, and learns some things from Ritsuko and Ryoji that have pretty disturbing implications about the capabilities and direction of their technology.  All the while, the “Human Instrumentality Project” looms in the background, mentioned but not explained until the very end when it is put into action.

Our main trio of pilots experience some character development that, again, I find very believable for teenagers thrown into a level of both danger and responsibility that they can’t handle.  Asuka’s arrogance and competitiveness turn from quirks into tragic flaws as she recklessly tries to prove herself to be the best Eva pilot, and are also revealed to be part of a more complex and general need to prove herself to be serious and mature.  (Not to mention, she is infuriating precisely because, again, she’s realistically written... her mixture of resentment and longing for Shinji and her wildly age inappropriate crush on Ryoji both remind me of people I used to know.)  Rei, who has never known anything but NERV’s single-minded dedication to making her a pilot (and who, like Shinji, is a victim of Gendo’s abusive parenting), starts to have the first vaguely normal human relationships of her life.  And Shinji tries to run away again, but I promise, it’s different this time.

No, that last one’s not in there as a joke -- I think this is an important turning point.  In ep. 18, Gendo remotely takes control of Shinji’s Eva to force it to do something Shinji refuses to do.  Shinji is understandably horrified by this, not just because of the violation of his autonomy or something but because of the terrible thing he has now experienced doing (remember, pilots are neurologically connected to their Evas and share their sensations), and in the next episode, in a burst of sheer hatred for not just his father but all of NERV, he quits again.  Most of the other characters still treat him as running away due to weakness or indecision, like they did earlier in the series, but he has a reason now.  They are falling victim to a “boy who cried wolf”-like problem, reacting to what they have come to expect from Shinji rather than to his actual motive.  He is persuaded to return in order to protect his fellow pilots who have become his friends, and then the next episode is that infuriating out-of-body thing, but the fact remains that this shows Shinji has grown across the series, from acting out of fear of and/or familial obligation to Gendo to acting out of a desire for praise (see ep. 12) to feeling like he has an actual role and mission to play.

Meanwhile, it becomes clear that Gendo really is the sinister mastermind he appeared to be.  While his colleagues in the shadowy council -- called Seele -- attempt to rein him in, and he theoretically is responsible to a chairman of that organization, the real power is with Gendo and the sheer amount of mad science he can muster under secretive or outright false pretenses.  And... wow, there’s not much I can say about that, because there’s not much I can say about episode 19 and beyond without revealing backstory the show wants to keep secret until this late.

What I can say, though, is I think the show fumbles hard on its late episodes, even before the notorious original ending.  Up to this point, I thought the show had been improving in general in its ability to tell an interesting story, but it dives back here into the same problem I had early on where it’s difficult to tell how much time has passed within or between episodes, and that creates more of a problem this time around for the basic ability of the audience to empathize with the main characters.  Perhaps this explains why there were alternate Director’s Cut versions of these specific episodes?  (I don’t know because I haven’t seen them, and they’re apparently only available to English-speakers on the 2004 “Platinum Collection” DVD release, and I am not paying the $120+ that eBay sellers want for them.)  I suppose it’s possible that the unsatisfying endings of our main cast’s arcs are intentional, and reflect how pessimistic Anno himself, and his initial description of the show, were, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with a downer ending per se, but episodes 21-24 don’t manage to land them for me.  Asuka fails at the only thing that makes her feel valuable, Rei has her tenuous human connections and her means of maintaining them if anything happens to her taken away, Misato realizes maybe NERV has been the bad guys all along, Shinji finally shows agency and makes an important decision for himself but immediately regrets it... all of these clearly should be tragic, but they just didn’t make me feel as sad for those characters as I know I should’ve.

Asuka’s brief and mostly-offscreen abandonment of NERV in the face of her plummeting confidence, the introduction of the Fifth Child, Kaworu, and Ryoji’s sneaking of secret information to Misato all are great plot points that could have had dramatic conclusions, but they all fell flat for me.  The episode focusing on Rei at least makes sense in tying together many things implied by previous episodes, and fills in or confirms some things we’ve already seen.  For example, it confirms the existence of literal souls in this narrative universe, so now we know to take certain aspects of Shinji’s out-of-body experience -- the loss of sense of self, and the feeling of having recontacted his mother’s soul -- as literal rather than just a storytelling device to display the Freudian subconscious, and the angels’ ability to make direct mental contact with people by this point certainly seems to be literal magic, not some sort of exotic biology.

But episodes 21-24 in particular feel like a rapid-fire dump of partial ideas with the dramatic pauses in all the wrong places -- exemplified by the minute-long still shot as Shinji decides whether to stop the final angel from [spoiler] that changes the scene from tense to absurd.  It is, in other words, paced poorly, and this isn’t just bad news for individual episodes, but for the ability of events to matter to the audience.  I also expected to have something to say about the gay content in ep. 24 that the professional internet commentators are obsessed with talking about (specifically, talking about how much Netflix screwed it up with a very small translation change), but that aspect of that episode in particular was overshadowed for me because the show just failed to show enough of a relationship building between Shinji and Kaworu for it to mean anything.  Even with the “love” to “like” change, I end up coming away with the impression that Shinji has a crush on Kaworu (whether Kaworu feels the same or just doesn’t get how normal people interact), but that doesn’t mean much when their entire series of interactions seems to be over less than a day(?).

And so we come to the two-part finale.  With no more angels to interfere, the Human Instrumentality Project begins.  We first see our pilots suffering separately in their own despairs and doubts, Shinji and Asuka both suffering from needing to be needed, Rei wanting to die permanently this time but afraid now that it’s finally an option.  The Project apparently forces direct contact between everyone’s souls, though, and we see how the exposure of feelings we do not wish to express or even think about can be even worse than isolation.  Misato and Asuka both totally break down upon directly encountering Shinji’s soul and involuntarily sharing their most upsetting and embarrassing memories with him.

Or, well, that seems to be what Shinji’s getting from them, anyway.  We don’t actually know what they’re experiencing, I guess, since we quickly learn this is only Shinji’s personal experience of Instrumentality.  He, and implicitly everyone else, is stuck in his own personal incorporeal world having an internal argument and trying to navigate an entirely new way of existing not constrained by the physical world.  The visuals themselves meanwhile regress to sparsely-detailed still images, then to storyboards, then sketches, before suddenly popping back to full animation as Shinji experiences another “possible world”, a frankly hilarious couple of scenes reimagining the show as a school life comedy.  Shinji begins to untangle what he thinks of himself from what others think of him, and is instructed by visions of his friends and colleagues that, among other things, conventional associations between concepts are just that -- conventional associations -- and they don’t need to mean to him what he thinks they’re supposed to mean.  Then this fascinating mindfuck of an ending, which up to this point I have been genuinely enjoying enough to forgive its Freudian jargon, crashes to a halt with the resolution that he just suddenly accepts himself, abruptly.  And then everyone clapped.  The end.

I feel let down, because it just sort of feels like Anno wanted very badly to resolve Shinji’s misery, but just whiffed on how to pull it off.  “Just stop hating yourself”, even given some sort of amazing supernatural opportunity to do so, is a bit too “have you tried not being a monster?” of a resolution for me.  I’m not asking for realistic therapy in my anime, but maybe there was some better way to show him changing his entire outlook?  And then I feel let down again because I finally remember that we cut to this abruptly and are totally ignoring what Instrumentality is doing or will do to everyone else, something that is such a wild shift that it is certainly the end of the world as we know it, to zoom in on just one person’s inner conflict in a very surreal way for two entire episodes.  So... yeah.  That was Evangelion.  Yup.  It was a solid sci-fi (or... sci-fantasy, I guess) premise that went in interesting directions, although not always executed well.  I appreciated it, and I would be interested to see how it has been repeatedly remade by its own creator.  Just, uh, not right now.

Come back soon for a third post about Evangelion, which will be a headcanon and/or questionable interpretation that probably nobody wants or needs but which I feel compelled to share.

[mittensmorgul]

Mittens, help: Dean says he loves Hatchet Man because he likes watching movies where he knows the bad guy's gonna lose. But in basically every existing horror movie the bad guy actually never loses and instead turns out to be unbeatable and everyone gets slaughtered. I totally get what the statement is supposed to tell us about Dean but it makes zero sense to me that he says he's watching slasher movies for that particular reason. Am I missing something here?

Hi hi! I’m… gonna pilfer something from Lizbob’s episode watch notes, because this is both a meta statement, as well as something really terribly, painfully awful for Dean:

“We killed you! You’re dead!”“We all do bad things sometimes”

And there we get the context for the cool quote the Hatchetman model can recite - just as how in fandom often things are quoted out of context as lines which seem emotional or special but are actually awful. Just for starters, all the Sam n Dean fans using “there aint no me if there aint no you” when Dean didn’t even SAY that. Now we see the context of this line, we see that while Hatchetman really isn’t deep, he’s at least not just saying it to sound cool and talk about himself, he’s judging the protagonist for her behaviour, as well as invoking relative morality. Which brings up some interesting ideas about what Hatchetman considers good and evil, in regards to seeming to have a concept of it but not including kill himself as a good thing to do. Obviously completely wild in context but in the philosophical language of the show, the nature of monsters and all is one huge question, along with if Sam and Dean are murderers themselves, and of course how they have done bad things for good reasons and vice versa.

There’s so much in this episode packed into layers of references and subtext that the deeper you dig, the more different angles you approach it from, the more emotionally devastating it becomes. D:

I’ll start by at least acknowledging that the “bad guy” in slasher films (i.e., surface level, the slasher/monster) kills bucketloads of people before the end of the film. But more often than not, there is a Final Girl (usually a female character, but not always), who through whatever virtue or luck survives to the end of the film, and either fights her way free of the bad guy or else symbolically defeats him. Sometimes she’s saved by outside forces (police storm the creepy locale and kill the bad guy, for example), sometimes she just defeats the guy either through luck or pluck, and sometimes she just flat-out escapes and simply survives, leaving the bad guy to return for a sequel. :P

But the bad guy in a slasher movie… the slasher himself? I mean, just think of the scenario presented to us in the All Saints Day trailer… and heck even the title of the film is an ironic bit of meta statement there…

“All Saints,” I mean, literally NOBODY in the film could be thought of as a “saint.” Even all the “victims” of the Hatchet Man were the very people whose “prank” led to his death. None of them were “innocent.” They were ALL bad people.

(with the possible exception of the Final Girl, the one I describe in my long post about the movie trailer here… we don’t know her part in the original prank, nor whether she survives in the movie or eventually defeats the Hatchet Man)

That Final Girl was, however, paralleled to Dirk, running through the hospital corridor trying to escape Hatchet Man while the security guards didn’t even notice. And Dirk was clearly acting the part of the Dean Mirror, putting Dean in the place of the Final Girl here.

But who did Dean sympathize with? Because Hatchet Man only became hatchet man because of an accident. In the voiceover I examined in this post, with zero context whatsoever, we hear an unseen woman say, “Are you insane? They will never understand that it was an accident.” Is she speaking in defense of herself and her friends for what happened to David Yaeger? Is she suggesting they attempt to cover up their part in his death to protect themselves? Is she trying to hide her own feelings of responsibility for one of the Hatchet Man’s victims? Is this even the Final Girl speaking? We just don’t know, but there’s so many ways to interpret it that without context it could mean any number of things.

But considering the way Dean was raised, having spent the vast majority of his life hunting, beginning with 24 years on a Revenge Mission seeking justice for Mary’s death. Especially considering John was so heavily paralleled to the Hatchet Man, a character on a Revenge Mission seeking justice for his OWN death. 

The implication here, based on the specific footage they chose to create the trailer. John Winchester himself having been lured to the garage where he worked under false pretenses by an angel intent on killing him in 5.13.

Next, from 8.06 we have a woman possessed by a specter intent on seeking revenge by preying on his victims’ feelings of having been wronged. This one is particularly interesting to me, because in the film trailer this is framed as “a practical joke,” with the woman viciously kicking the car jack and dropping the car on her husband. Even without the context of the clip they used, that in no way looks like a harmless practical joke, you know? But the voiceover is insisting that it was. What are we to believe? Who looks like the “bad guy” in that particular scene?

“Are you insane? They will never understand that it was an accident.” 

ETA because I wandered off to think about dinner and forgot to add the third clip they used, and it’s important: The burning truck from 10.13, heavily paralleled to John Winchester. In 10.13, they first thought the truck itself was haunted by the brother of the guy who was killed by the malfunctioning gps. But it turned out to be the exact sort of “revenge driven slasher” that the Hatchet Man was-- targeting the people whose irresponsible actions (drunk driving and texting while driving, and then refusing to call for help to protect themselves) led to his own death. The Final Girl in 10.13 reached out to the ghost’s wife and she helped talk him into letting go and moving on. She was literally only saved by the fact she’d wanted to help at first but was overruled by her friends, the fact she eventually owned up to her extremely minor role in the events of the tragedy-- literal back seat passenger who tried to be the voice of reason and failed-- and securing forgiveness through a sincere apology.

Horror movies in general, and slasher flicks in particular, have a weird sense of morality and justice, you know? Especially to a kid raised into his father’s revenge quest fighting literal, actual monsters. Especially in a scenario where his own father is being framed as the slasher…

I think the bigger question here, is who is really the bad guy, what makes a monster, and recognizing how Dean has identified with both the “monster” and the “Final Girl” his entire life.

[evilkitten3]

with flat earthers, it’s a bit harder to spot the direct connection, in part bc they don’t make it too obvious, but the first clue is that there’s a lot of overlap between flat earth conspiracies and directly antisemitic conspiracies.

i don’t think the idea is inherently antisemitic in origin, as it shows up in quite a few ancient belief systems in places where jews just weren’t really around. the origins of modern flat earthers also don’t seem to have antisemitic roots, although the guy who essentially kickstarted the whole thing (samuel rowbotham) did do so according to his christian faith.

but even so, that’s not where the antisemitism came from. from what i can figure out, it came from someone being asked the question “why would anyone put in the effort, such as faking incredibly realistic photos and creating entire job markets, needed to convince people the world is round when it isn’t”. which brings us to the place most conspiracy theories end up: there’s a secret shadowy organization that, in order to control the world, wants to brainwash everyone.

but what secret shadowy organization is that? well in this case it’s probably nasa, but that’s not really secret or shadowy. so what is nasa a front for? well clearly the people who want everyone to think the earth is a globe. but who, specifically, are those people? well, most answers to that question are one of three options: the jesuits, the freemasons, or the jews.

thanks to judeo-masonic conspiracy theories, those last two often end up being more or less the same. not really sure why the jesuits get thrown out there so much but afaik it was started by some english schmuck taking a lunch break from bothering the irish in the 1500s.

the moon landing crap has a lot less historical baggage, thanks to the moon landing having occurred just over 50 years ago. from what i can figure, all of the moon landing conspiracies stemmed from some guy writing a book seven years after the fact that made a bunch of shit up (not the original “source: dude trust me” but one of the more blatant ones imo). this then got picked up by flat earthers who said the “moon landing” was staged by hollywood and sponsored by walt disney.

now i don’t think the moon landing conspiracies theories are, isolated from all context, themselves antisemitic. i think frequent responses to “why would someone do that” are pretty obvious - 1. it’s the moon and that’s AWESOME, 2. it was the cold war and america really doesn’t like losing, 3. nasa wanted money, and 4. something something something vietnam

however, the ties that moon landing conspiracies have with flat earth conspiracies can’t really go unnoticed. and once again everything boils down to “there’s a secret shadowy organization (((of jews))) trying to brainwash everyone so they can take over the world”.

tldr: the believers of those theories may themselves not be out and proud antisemites (i mean a LOT of them definitely are) but the basis upon which the theories are built usually is, whether people supporting those ideas are aware of it or not.

also: in researching this response i learned that one of the big moon landing conspiracy theorists, bart sibrel, had an absolutely beautiful altercation with astronaut buzz aldrin that i frankly have to share no matter how long this post is

basically sibrel was bugging astronauts who been to the moon and trying to get them to swear on the bible that it was real (presumably bc he thought the bible would eat them if they lied? not sure on that one). so sibrel, a 6′2″ 250lb 39-year-old, forced 72-year-old buzz aldrin (who he had lured there under false pretenses) up against a wall after harassing him alongside his film crew for a bit.

aldrin’s response was to punch him in the face. this was caught on camera, sibrel tried to claim assault, and the incident was talked about on a bunch of tv shows, most of which agreed that aldrin was perfectly justified in decking the guy. five years later sibrel was charged with vandalism bc a woman refused to give up her parking space to him and he responded by waiting for another spot, parking, and then leaping onto the hood of the woman’s car and jumping up and down several times.

there's two types of conspiracy theories in american culture:

blatant antisemitism

not actually a conspiracy theory the cia really admitted to doing this in declassified documents that are publicly available but the average american is so brainwashed by nationalist fervor that they refuse to believe it and call it a conspiracy even though, and i cannot stress this enough, the government literally admits to doing it

[maniacalmole]

My First Fanfic

Thank you @sous-le-saule for tagging me! I love this idea. Looking back on the first fanfic I ever posted has reminded me of what it was like at the time, sharing my writing with a LOT of people for the first time, having people actually RESPOND, SO NICELY, and being able to share a story even more, precisely because it’s fanfiction and we already love these characters. I felt like I’d found something I had been looking for for a long time, and that was really special. So thanks for reminding me of all that :)

I would like to read @lvslie ‘s and @staubengel ‘s if you guys want to reminisce and share! And I second that @not-a-space-alien tag!

Technically I’ve written ‘fanfiction’ for a long time. Before I even knew it was a thing, I wrote a really long Hogwarts fanfic with my own characters in middle school. I wrote part of a SPN fanfic that I never finished. But this is the first thing I posted. I put it on Ao3 in February 2016, about the same time as you, sls! But I think I posted it on tumblr around September 2015, so it’s been almost three years that I’ve been doing this.

It’s a pretty short one, about Crowley feeling insecure (so some things never change). Lol @myself for rating it T, it’s definitely fine for general audiences, I just was nervous posting it for the first time XD

Eggs Without Salt

(on ao3)

    AJ Crowley woke up in his bed, cold. He had kicked the sheets off of him, and they were tangled around his legs. He was lying on his stomach, one arm crushed underneath him, the other stretched out across the rest of the bed. He stared at it, and his open hand, looking like it was reaching for something.

               He’d blown it all, this time.

               With a groan, he pulled in his arm and used it to push himself up, just enough so he could turn his head and look around the room. Definitely empty. Just white walls and cold white sheets. On the bedside table there was only one pair of glasses, and they were dark. Crowley grimaced. He grabbed the sunglasses and crammed them onto his face, then dropped himself onto his stomach again, letting out a sigh that turned into a low hiss.

               Aziraphale was definitely gone, then.

              Humans had invented a story about a little boy who cried ‘Wolf’. The demon wished he had never heard it. How many times had he gotten the angel to do something under false pretenses? It was in his job description to always have an ulterior motive. He couldn’t even blame him for not trusting the good intentions of a demon. Good intentions weren’t usually allowed.

               Crowley’d told him he wasn’t doing sleep the right way. Aziraphale’s bed was a small twin shoved into the corner of the back room of his bookstore, which was also mostly packed with books and collectibles. The mattress was decades old; it could hardly even qualify as a mattress by the modern era’s definition. The angel had discovered sleep but preferred using his nights for reorganizing his collections of old combs and vintage watches. But you can’t call that sleep, Crowley had told him, the day before. Not on that old thing. You need something with space to spread out. Memory foam mattress, sheets with a high thread-count. Come on, I’ll show you. Humans have invented sleep with style.

               Ulterior motives. Aziraphale was not stupid. He must have seen through it. He had probably woken up, realized Crowley had tricked him, and flown the coop first thing. Before Crowley would have the chance to tell him why he had wanted so badly to trick him into staying over.

              Aziraphale had waited until the morning, though. That was what Crowley did not understand. Last night, he had stayed. Crowley had not exactly given him ‘space to spread out’, but the angel had gone to sleep, anyway. Close to him, with one hand in his hair. Crowley could still remember the feeling of the atrocious beige sweater against his face, rough and scratchy. He had never slept so well.

               Now, he felt the sunglasses digging into the side of his face and brow. He could not be bothered to move.

               The worst of it was….The worst was, that he had not done it that way this time. He had started out edging around what he really wanted, tempting instead of just asking, the way he always did. When he had gotten Aziraphale to his flat, though…he had really told him everything.

               He just wanted him nearby. A bit nearer than nearby, if that wasn’t too much. He enjoyed spending time with him. All the time. He just wished he was there more often than he was.

               He had thought he’d understood, that the angel had known he meant it. But now…

               A sound came from the kitchen.

               Crowley pushed himself up instantly. His glasses fell off his face as he moved into a sitting position. He listened.

               There was another clanging noise. It was followed by more sounds of metal hitting granite countertops. Slowly, Crowley slid off the end of the bed and walked to the door. The glasses remained sitting on the stark white sheets.

               Crowley walked into the kitchen. Every pot and pan he owned was spread out across the counters, along with a lot of flour, which was odd, because he smelled eggs. Standing with his back facing the demon, some of the flour stuck in his curly hair and all over his sweater, was Aziraphale.

               Crowley watched him wordlessly for a while. The angel seemed to be having trouble with the stove. At last he got it working, and he turned to get one of the pans. When he did so, he spotted Crowley. He gave him a smile.

               “Ah, there you are.” He grabbed the pan and started shuffling the others about, creating another floury dust-cloud. “Tell me, how do you like your eggs? As soon as I find the salt….” He found it at last and held it up with a triumphant grin. “Aha!” He looked back at Crowley.

               Crowley was staring at him with his mouth slightly open. Aziraphale gave him a quizzical look, adjusting his reading glasses.

               “Now, I know you used to swallow them whole—“ He turned back to the stovetop. “But that was millennia ago, and I had rather figured your tastes would have changed, somewhat.”

               Carefully, Crowley took a seat at one of the stools by the counter. Aziraphale looked at him over his shoulder. He seemed to be reading him. He put on a gentle expression that was somewhere between a smile of amusement and a frown.

               “Now, really, my dear,” he said. Crowley met his eye. He stared back at him for a few seconds.

               “Over-easy.”

               Aziraphale smirked and turned back to the stove. “I suppose I can’t very well ask you to say your ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s, can I?” Despite his expression, his voice sounded cheerful. Almost affectionate.

               Crowley just pulled himself closer, rested one arm on the counter, and smiled.

[imustgo-on-icantgo-on-illgo-on]

FITZ: I’m just like Ward

I have been thinking a lot of things about Leopold Fitz since the last season, so when last night’s episode aired I realized that the post I was already working on would not be enough. For the purpose of clarity I have decided to split up this meta into two parts. The first part is about Grant Ward. The second is about our beloved Fitz. Last night hurt, but so does life. Now let’s get into it.

Grant Ward’s history of abuse is well documented by the fanbase, and as someone who faced very dissimilar, though not without great overlap, abuse, it was always extremely fascinating to follow Ward as a character. For those less familiar, abuse is about power and control, and because of how people acclimate themselves to the world and their relationships within it through socializing, this can lead people to assume that power and control is what life is about in general, thus prioritizing feelings of strength and squashing weakness. Ward felt weak because his parents tortured him. He felt weak because his brother did the same, and even felt weak being forced into bullying his younger brother, Thomas (The Well). Finally, in a desperate attempt to feel a sense of strength and satisfaction, Ward tried to burn down his home with his parents and older brother inside at the age of 17 (Ragtag, and though I’ve seen a lot of people say it was when he was 15 because the flashbacks say “15 years ago” Thomas says he was 17 in season 3’s Closure, and it makes more sense that his older brother, Christian, tried to have him tried as an adult at 17). Undoubtedly he justified this attempted murder (we all know that he knew who was inside) as a way to free him and his little brother from his more abusive family member’s clutches. However, I can still accept this as a product of environment, and not a grown adult making rational decisions. This didn’t make Ward a villain.

John Garrett was the answer to Grant Ward’s prayers. Of course he went on to constantly gaslight and manipulate him, but Ward didn’t want to let go of his past and seek love, he wanted strength, and here comes a man saying he works for a secret organization, and that Ward impresses him. Thomas, I believe, is the side of the coin we never saw, who did grow up to seek love instead of more hate, but Ward was already being used as a weapon from a young age, so he understood plays of power and control, just not his complicity in the actions he committed. Garrett then kidnaps him, calling it a favor, which is hard to argue with considering how long Grant could have spent in a very adult prison for his actions, but it also unfortunately starts the blame game that abuse is built on. Garrett kidnapped him and demanded thanks. Garrett dragged him to the middle of nowhere, then left him there and called it Grant’s own failure to have not prepared for anything (because why would a kid who follows a man who claims to work for the government NOT be prepared to be abandoned in the middle of nowhere, I type sarcastically). Garrett specifically left a dog with him, not just to help, but with which Ward could bond, and then forced him to kill it while implying that any reservations would be a sign of weakness. Even Ward’s accomplishment of surviving, Garrett can credit himself because he said he thought Ward could do it. That’s what abusers do, they make what they do bad your fault, and what you do well their credit (Like Kylo Ren saying “You’re nothing, but not to me”). Ward believes he owes Garrett everything, including things he did for himself, but also blames himself for what he still does wrong. And after two fat paragraphs, we’ve reached the very beginning of the show, and see in action how Ward’s truest desire was always strength, and how much it clearly burned him that he didn’t know how to love.

When Ward got brought onto the bus, he was on mission for Garrett, but this became a perfect vehicle for the fantasy Ward must have held onto since he was a kid. Ward got to be the hero. Sure he was a milktoast kind of one, but that was just part of his cover. He got to stop Russian superweapons, and jump out of planes to save people (The Hub, FZZT). He got to mentor (The Asset) a woman who looked at him and saw a goodhearted, if defensive and closed off, guy. In short, he got to be a part of a family. Yes, in “Yes Men” he is raped, and they do nothing about that, but nobody knew about that and Ward never told anyone. It’s that same toxic masculinity at work where he thinks he has to ignore pain, assuming that that’s what strength is, so he wasn’t changing yet, but he was (under false pretense) loved. Then HYDRA came out of the shadows, and with his reveal at the end of Turn, Turn, Turn, we began to see how great that desire for strength was, and how much it conflicted with this newfound feeling of being loved. He killed Hand for Garrett, alongside dozens of SHIELD agents, but he killed Koenig for Skye (The Only Light in the Darkness). He killed Koenig, not just to keep his cover, but so she would still see him as a hero. As worthy of love, because he knew all the things he did were wrong. This was his first chance to really confess and own up to who he is, but he killed Koenig instead to continue the fantasy. In fact, the moment he is fighting HYDRA agents in Turn, Turn, Turn even becomes sort of twisted after the reveal, especially the smile he has right before he kills them all. They are a means to him feeling like a hero. Koenig was a cover-up to continue that feeling. And when he discovers she knows who he is, in that diner, he wants to explain himself, and kills two police officers (at least) in order to do that. He doesn’t care about people’s lives, even Skye’s, who he loves. And I believe he does, he just didn’t know how to. I learned a lot of abusive behavior from my own father, and though some of it was directed at me, more was directed at my mom, and it made me not realize what I had picked up until recently. When the only Ex of mine I ever loved would fight with me (not to say they were the cause, just when we would fight) she would often ask for space, and too many times if I had done something wrong I would come visit her and apologize over and over and over, but I wouldn’t leave when she asked because I wanted to show I was sorry. Makes sense right? Except I didn’t care about what she wanted, I just wanted to apologize and “work it out” or really just make myself feel better. I loved her, still do, but I needed to learn that that meant putting her needs ahead of my own desires because duh. Ward is the same, except also, you know, a serial killer. But what finally destroyed his Hero fantasy wasn’t Skye. It was Fitzsimmons. When they manage to disable Garrett and free themselves, they hide in the escape pod, and Ward can’t get in. They did that. All the while, Fitz begged for Ward to realize that they care about him, and he even cares about them. But in that moment, this fully grown man in his 30s, when confronted with a choice between love and strength, opted for the latter. Caring is weakness, to him. Garrett taught him that years ago, and even after months and months with the team, and sharing in their love, love that could have continued, that belief didn’t change. Ward’s hero fantasy was gone, so he had to search for a new feeling of strength, despite the fact that it was actually weakness that lead him to try and kill Fitzsimmons. He tried to search for that strength in Garrett, but the man he knew was already gone before his death, and when asked what he wanted he chose, again, something selfish. Skye. He approaches her with a gun, threatens to rape her, and thus placed her at the center of his desires for self, a hole that had been created by Garrett’s change, and subsequent death. As Coulson asks “Who are you without [Garrett]”.

When the team locked Ward up, Coulson continued to check in on him, giving him another chance to own up to who he is and what he has done. Everyday for three weeks, and Ward refused to say anything unless he could talk to the woman he once kidnapped, locked up, and threatened to rape. That same abusive cycle continuing. Just as he carried out missions for Garrett, he tried to make promises to Skye to prove he was deserving of her, but it was still all about him and not what she wanted (Shadows). He told Fitz that he gave them a fighting to chance to survive, because he didn’t shoot them, but they hid themselves in the escape pod, so there’s no other way Ward could have killed them but dropping them into the ocean (Making Friends and Influencing People). When he escapes we spend an episode being gaslit ourselves as the audience, questioning our own memory of the well when we finally meet the adult Christian Ward, who is a senator no less (A Fractured House). For many people the gaslighting worked so well that they thought that Ward tortured an answer out of Christian when threatening to throw him down the well (The Things We Bury) ignoring that the existence of the well itself proves that Christian is a liar and a gaslighter. But we don’t see Thomas, because he wanted real closure. The kind you can only find within yourself. But Ward wants to lord the power and control he now has over his family now that he’s free, and a highly trained killer. He wants to keep his promise to Skye, introducing her to her father, and then we WATCH HIM FORGIVE HIMSELF (What They Become). He just starts acting like he and Skye are together on a mission or something, despite kidnapping her for a SECOND TIME. When Kara saves him from the gunshots Skye pumped into him, a new relationship is formed, and we see as he continues the cycle of abuse. She asks over and over again in the back half of the season to just run away and leave SHIELD behind, but Ward is obsessed with the idea that it will bring her closure, because really he just wants to torture SHIELD. To make them suffer. As Daisy says in s3, Ward kills because he feels too much (Closure). He tried to be a supporting figure for Kara, but he ends up being a controlling one. He even offers us the line we want to hear in saying that there’s “not enough good” inside him to help her. But it’s all lies, which shouldn’t be a surprise at this point in the series, as he has yet to own up to his actions in a way that isn’t saying the words “I take responsibility for my actions” My father would say over and over again, after he hit me, that he was sorry, but he doesn’t regret it and he’d do it again. That’s what Ward was doing, saying he takes responsibility, but normal serial killers stay in prison their whole lives, and he wanted to be free after a couple months of helping SHIELD. It was this path of blaming and petty emotional power plays that lead to Ward killing Kara with his own hands, proving that if they just left it all behind they could have been happy. Ward, in his constant fleeing from his own actions, always causes what happens to him next. And with Kara gone the only way for him to exert his power over the people in SHELD is to commit to his new role as the head of HYDRA, and give him the feeling of strength he always yearns for.

Brett Dalton does a brilliant job of playing Ward in S3 with the same hungry, smug look in his eyes that he had that moment before killing all the HYDRA assailants in Turn, Turn, Turn. This is his new hero fantasy. The villain. And boy does he do it in style. He makes himself the head of HYDRA and specifically uses his power to control the organization through force. The thing he knows best. Only the literally physically strong survive in his new regime, and when it comes time to take down SHIELD, to take down Coulson, he believes he’ll be fulfilled. Ward swaggers through S3 taking down dozens of men singlehanded (Purpose in the Machine, Many Heads, One Tale) threatening, attacking, and killing people’s loved ones (Devils You Know, Closure, both with Ros, and with Simmons. The Simmons one is especially indicative of Ward because he first tries to take credit for their relationship, back to that blame game of abuse, and then tortures her personally after saying he would never hurt her, because his word only as strong as his patience, which only ever holds for Daisy). The perfect symbol of this is the scene he has with the flight attendant on the airplane he terrorizes, where he flirts with her and gets to feel wanted and sexy, before whispering in her ear the terror of what he is about to do, winking before finally exiting the plane. Ward loved the feeling of strength, but we as an audience know that killing Coulson never would have satisfied him. It isn’t until Malick comes along and tells Ward the full history of HYDRA, praises him for how strong he is, and asks him to lead that things click into place for Ward. He finally gets to fulfill his fantasy. He may not be the hero, but the HYDRA mission makes him important. Ward has been turned into possibly the ultimate human killing machine, and the idea that through adversity, through failure and turmoil and all the bloodshed, he had become the one person who could finally fulfill the mission that HYDRA was founded upon, and he didn’t even know it. He chose the organization for “petty, personal reasons”, but now this path has lead him to do something millenia in the making. I believe Ward believes it when he says that he’s “part of a grand plan” on Maveth, and it’s hard to argue with his pov (check out my meta on destiny in AoS for why I think it’s possible). Many people have argued that Alveus essentially rapes Ward by taking his body, as a corpse cannot consent, but he consents as much as person can while he’s still alive. Ward goes to Maveth to finish the mission, and believes he is the secret super soldier that HYDRA needs to do it, and bring their god back to earth. And he does it. I’m not saying it makes it right, I’m just pointing out that Ward knew, to a degree, what he was getting into. Ward chases the feeling of power all his life, and the only thing it lead him to is a death, and a disregard for his autonomy just as he disregarded other people autonomy. As Daisy said back in season one, Ward is “just weak”(Beginning of the End). He desires strength because he feels weak, and that desire made him self-centered, even in his love for others. That happens to people in life. I agree that it’s tragic, but I don’t agree that it absolves him of anything. Nikolas Cruz had a history of not fitting in, and had a problematic homelife, but does that excuse him killing those children in Parkland? He’s 19, and Ward was in his 30s when we met him. Men in this country, and all over the world, get taught that strength matters more than anything, and at their core it just makes them weak and in search of power. Power over others. Control of things that are beyond their control. And this is how Ward became who he became, and how he continued to change. Hell, it’s why, when we meet him in the framework, he’s already been “saved” by Victoria Hand. Because in real life, he was already lost when we first met him, chasing strength above all. To save him, the team would have had to have known him years ago. It just shows how disturbing abuse can be, and how hard it can be to demonstrate its effect on tv, but the show does a good job of showing what a person who holds onto that abuse looks like (Grant), and what a person who moves on looks like (Thomas)

Now what does all of that have to do with Fitz? Check out my next meta to find out. Sorry this turned out so long, I just love this show (Been watching since it started, watching in my dorm when it began my freshman year) and this fanbase, and these writers. Part two should be out in a day, and should be much more succinct. I promise. Peace, and love, and prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella with a hint of homemade pesto aioli :)

[california-grethan]

Under False Pretenses - Hidden Identity // {G. Dolan}

Description: As a fangirl, there was nothing that hurt more than knowing you might not ever meet those you idolize. That was probably the most difficult aspect of the entire thing: nights were often spent wishing that you could be in their life, having the ability to text or call them whenever. But, no. The harsh reality was that they didn’t know of your existence, yet you continued to fangirl and support them on a website that they don't even visit. Why? Well, they were your happiness. There was also nothing that you loved more than being able to escape to this website, bonding with others that felt the same way as you. It was your happy place, your safe haven; the one place that you could shamelessly showcase your love for the two boys that made you happy. 

Warning(s): there’s really nothing I can think of🙃

Requested: [yeahhh] // [nopeee]

Word Count: [2,514]

masterlist // blurb nights // come talk to me!

His P.O.V

I’m stuck in bed, sick with a ridiculously high fever. I feel absolutely miserable, and it’s made worse by the fact that we have to skip a Tuesday because I’m too sick to film. I hated this entire situation. I hated being sick. I hated being stuck in bed. But most importantly, I hated letting our fans down. I couldn’t help but feel like it; they were our entire world. Ethan and I would be nothing without them; they’re responsible for the successes that we’ve been blessed with.

I wish I could talk to each and every single one of them, so I could tell them how much they mean to me. It was hard, though. There were so many of them and they were all over the world. Social media made connecting with them feasible, but it was hard to be able to give them all the recognition they deserve.

They were all such incredible people who continue to blow my mind every single day. So many of them were such creative human beings: making edits, drawing incredible portraits of us, writing about us. Our fans were definitely the best and I hoped, everyday, that every single one of them knew it.

I was cocooned in blanket, shivering despite the fact that I was emitting so much heat. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself as I blew my nose, adding yet another tissue to the massive pile on the floor next to my bed. Hearing the sound of my door creak open, I turn my head to the door, waiting for Ethan to come into the room.

He gave me a pitying smile, “Hey, bro. How’re you feeling?’

I coughed, groaning because it hurt. “Like absolute shit, but I’d feel better if you cuddled with me,” I mumbled jokingly.

Ethan stayed standing by the door, no doubt wanting to stay away so he wouldn’t catch what I was sick with. He grimaced at my words, “Bro, what?”

Giving him a shit-eating grin, I repeated myself, “I feel like absolute shit, but I’d feel better if you cuddled with me.”

He rolled his eyes at me, “Dude, whatever. Listen, I’m gonna head out for a little bit because Bryant wants to get the shoot with the Ducati done. Is that good? Or do you seriously need me to stay home with you?”

I shook my head. “No, go ahead. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just stay in bed all day,” I managed to get out, my voice sounding hoarse.

“Alright, do you want me to pick up any food on my way home?”

“Could you buy some soup? Oh, and medicine. We don’t have any.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you later. Remember to keep hydrated.” He shut the door behind him, leaving me in the quiet of my room. I turned back to the TV, grimacing because of how loud it was. I reached for the remote, turning it down as it did nothing to soothe my pounding headache.

I sighed dejectedly, not knowing what to do with myself. Grabbing my phone and unplugging it from its charger, I unlock it. I turned the brightness all the way down, the screen far too bright for my liking. Mindlessly scrolling through social media, I like and retweet posts I stumble upon. Social media was a goddamn black hole, one post leads me to another and before I know it, I’m looking through Tumblr, reading fanfiction about Ethan and I.

Whenever I found myself on this app, I end up going through blogs for hours. Every single fan that ran a blog was so dedicated; it was absolutely mind-blowing. This time, a certain blog catches my eye because of a post that was written about me, more specifically, about my laugh.

---

I want you to close your eyes for a second and do me one favor. I want you to imagine the most wonderful sound that you can think of: a favorite song, the sound of the waves crashing against the ocean, the crunch of fallen leaves as you walk on them, it can be anything.

…

God. His laugh was truly mellifluous. It was the best sound I’ve had the pleasure to hear, both through a speaker and in real life. It was simply angelic, which made sense because he was an angel sent from above, I was sure of it.

There was so much about it that I absolutely adored; it wasn’t just the sound itself, but rather everything associated with it: from the way his face would scrunch up as he did so, to the way his arms would curl into his body during the process.

…

His laughter was infectious. I couldn’t help but to giggle to myself whenever the sound floated through the air. It was one of those sounds that had the power to make a person happy because it was laced with happiness. What person can’t help but to be happy in the presence of happiness?

…

His eyes were the first to indicate that laughter was about to come. There would be a light in them that screamed excitement. Then, the apples of cheeks became more prominent as his lips curled into a giant grin, his rows of perfect white teeth showing. Lastly, he would throw his head back: this was the best sight because it indicated that it was a genuine laugh. But there was nothing that made me smile even wider than when the sound died out, quickly becoming a wheeze rather than a laugh. This told me truly how funny or entertaining he had found whatever it was that had him laughing.

With that said, was the sound you were thinking of at the beginning still the best sound? Or have I managed to convince you otherwise?

---

I couldn’t help but to simply stare at the screen of my phone when I finished reading. Astounded by the fact that someone could write something so beautiful about my laugh. There was nothing remotely special about it, but whoever wrote it made it sound as if there was. Intrigued by their writing, I click on their blog, trying to learn more about them.

It didn’t take me long to find out that the owner of the blog was a girl. Y/N. After reading other things that she’s posted, her talent for writing was so obvious to me. It was mind blowing. I scroll further down her blog, laughing periodically at some of the things she’s posted. She intrigued me, whoever she was. There was just something about her that made me want to find out more.

Without thinking twice, I click on the button that says “Come Talk to Me:)” and begin typing.

Hi! I just found your blog and I wanted to tell you that everything you’ve written is incredible!

- B. D.💜

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I let my bag drop from my hand, hitting the floor with a ‘thud’. I was absolutely exhausted, my classes for the day sucking up all my energy. Groaning, I collapse onto my bed, hissing in pain when I realize I landed on my laptop.

“Ah, shit. Please don’t be be broken,” I beg, speaking to the inanimate object as if it had a say in whether or not my weight caused it damaged.

I flip over to the other side of my bed, allowing me to grab my laptop from underneath me. Setting it on my lap, I scan it for any possible damage, letting out a breath of relief when I saw that it was perfectly fine.

“Oh, thank God,” I mumble to myself.

Since I already had my laptop out, I decide to log into Tumblr. I immediately smile when the twins pop up on my dash. Scrolling through, I like and reblog posts of the blogs I followed. This was my getaway. No matter how stressed out or tired I was, this website seemed to be able to make me feel better instantly. I don’t know exactly what it was. Maybe it was that when I’m on here, I’m surrounded by others that share my love for the boys. Maybe because it provided me with a creative outlet, a place that gave me the opportunity to share my writing. Or maybe, it was because it was the one place that I never felt judged; everyone in the fandom is so kind and welcoming that I always felt loved, even if none of us had never met.

My eyes lit up when I saw a little ‘1’ pop up next to the icon for my ask box. Clicking on it, I see that someone left an anonymous ask. A smile found its way onto my face as I read it.

Hi! I just found your blog and I wanted to tell you that everything you’ve written is incredible!

- B. D.💜

My heart swelled at the kind words. I clicked onto the ask, quickly typing out a response.

Hey lovely! Thank you so much for taking the time for reading my work and dropping by my asks! Hope you have a great day☺️

I run my blog and write because it makes me happy. I love being part of a fandom and forming friendships with people that share my interests. I choose to write because it’s something that I enjoy and it’s a creative outlet for me. I don’t post anything on my blog with the hopes that I get recognition, it’s simply a bonus of it all. To know that others find enjoyment in the content I create means the world to me and makes me want to share even more of my writing. To others, this entire thing may seem ridiculous, but to me, it’s my one true source of happiness.

I reposition myself on my bed, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. I click onto a new tab, opening Google Docs and trying to start a new piece so I can finally get something posted. For far too long, I stare at the blank document, the blinking cursor taunting me. Every time I start to write something, I end up hating it, rushing to delete everything I’ve managed to type. My eyebrows furrowed, growing frustrated at the lack of progress that I’ve made so far.

Just as I’m about to admit defeat for the day, an idea immediately pops into my head. I start to type furiously, terrified that my inspiration would leave me. A smile plays on my lips as I add more and more words to the document, falling into a comfortable groove.

I sit back when I finally finish, happy with what I’ve written. Scrolling to the very top of the page, I start reading, looking for mistakes I’ve made and parts that were awkward and needed to be changed. It probably took me longer to edit and revise than it took me to actually write the piece, but it was worth it. There was nothing that brought me more satisfaction than finishing what I’ve written and knowing that I made it the best I possibly could. Knowing that if I spend anymore time criticizing my writing, it would never get posted, I don’t give it anymore thought and post on my blog.

Logging off Tumblr, I shut the lid of my laptop and climb off my bed. I stretch, trying to gain feeling in my limbs before I make my way downstairs to the kitchen in search for some food.

His P.O.V

I look over to my nightstand when I hear my phone vibrate. Groaning, I lean over to pick it up, wanting to see what notification popped up this time. A smile formed on my lips when I saw that it was from the Tumblr app. I couldn’t help but get a little excited when I read that she had posted something new. I click onto the notification, bringing up her newest post.

---

The bright rays of sunlight made their way past the curtains, interrupting your deep slumber. While stretching your arms above your head, you look to your right, your vision only to be met with a gorgeous boy, his skin still retaining its sun-kissed color despite it already being a month into autumn.

You turned your body over, trying your best not to wake the piece of art that rested at your side. your eyes raked down his sleeping figure, admiring the beauty of the human that you were blessed to call yours.

…

His face was calm, peaceful, and younger. Making it seem as if sleep was his only true getaway from the stress of his life. It allowed him to leave everything behind, to forget everything that he had to get done, although it was only for a few hours.

His bleached hair became frizzy in his slumber and was pointing every which way, enticing you to run your fingers through the gorgeous locks. But you resisted once again, not wanting to disturb his peaceful sleep.

The sunlight shifted, now hitting the sleeping figure next to you. The golden glow highlighted his tanned skin, making him look even more like an angel, like God’s gift to this earth.

…

His body turned to face you, his eyes were fully open, his hazel orbs were bright, the sunlight that was hitting him highlighting the greenness of them. His lips contorted to a sleepy smile, making your heart swell even more at the man.

You brought your left hand up to grasp the side of his face gently, your palm coming in contact with the rough scruff that he had managed to grow in the past two weeks due to his laziness to shave. A small smile rested on your face as you caressed his gorgeous face.

He leaned into your grasp as he laughed at your words, his laugh even more magical than his morning voice. “I would do the same thing if I were to wake up before you, just stare and admire at the beauty that I get to call my girlfriend,” his voice was just a whisper, making his words sound like a secret that could only be said between the two of you.

…

“Ok, fine, only because you’re cute.” His chest was pressed up against your back, his hand resting on your slim waist, and his arm stretched above your head to reach for the spice. His long, nimble fingers wrapped around the container and he backed away from your body. You turned to face him, staring at his muscular physique, taking in the angelic figure that you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

---

I was amazed yet again. I couldn’t comprehend how someone strings words along the way she did. Hell, I can barely speak the language sometimes. Without thinking twice, I find myself in her asks again, but I stop myself. Nervously, I decide to ditch the idea of leaving her another anonymous ask, messaging her directly instead.

Hey, I’m Bailey...

A/N: I wanna say a big thank you to @tidsoptlmist, @spiffydolan @sunflower-dolans, @graysearring, @spongebobrose, @damndolanz, and @maryneedsadamntish for letting me bother them and have them give me feedback! This is a series that I’m very excited to be writing and I hope you guys enjoy it!