#drifter is deeply weird

[cardinalgoldenbrow]

Exactly. This.

Drifter: "Dying? Eh, I get better."

Drifter: "Kill count competition? Buddy, you have never competed with a Saryn, Volt, and Mirage in ESO and it shows. Here's a hint: Thermal Sunder Harrow makes them weep.

Drifter: "What's a rat?"

Drifter: "What, is it some sort of odd looking kuaka?"

Drifter: "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

looking forward to the Hex expecting the Drifter to add some normalcy to the group, or think they're gonna freak them out, only for the Drifter to bring in more chaos than all of them combined

listen they come from a nonsense fantasy world where there's skeleton animals, flying horses, everyone's made of some kind of ceramic, there's no real day and night, the king's court are turning into dragons all the time, and crazy weather like fire raining from the sky every other cycle. plus running around this nonsense fantasy world with just a pistol, a couple of sticks and no warframe. and winning. but they play checkers against a rabbit and lose

and outside Duviri, full-warframes are walkin around chilling like regular dudes, and also those warframes are piloted by a bunch of gremlin children who happen to be their alternate timeline selves. people live on venus and they have robot heads, there's a giant tower made of flesh that people chop up and eat and by the way it talks to them. Also there's talking animals in Albrecht's basement

i think the 'regular' stuff in 1999 would confuse them more than anything else

[noncredible-naramon]

deeply funny to think about the Drifter trying to interact normally in the Origin system while their consciousness is ping-ponging back and forth between Duviri (time loop) and 1999 (time loop).

They have no compunction about being completely honest with people because they are used to everyone forgetting everything they say when the loop resets. They don't treat their own possessions with any care because they absently assume they will pop back into existence tomorrow. They forget to eat or sleep for long stretches because (you guessed it!) their physical well-being would usually reset too. They cheerfully abandon any task they're undertaking to satisfy their curiosity because "it'll be there next time."

What a weird little freak. I love them.

[heartmachinez]

The World is Drowning

We’re excited to announce our newest project, Possessor(s), a brand new story and world we’re crafting with the support of our publisher Devolver Digital. As with all our games, this is a piece of work from our hearts that blends our signature aesthetic with new ideas, creating an experience that is both deeply personal and visually stunning.|

A Message from Danny Moll, Art Director

We have carefully calibrated the overall aesthetic and tone of Possessor(s) and are proud of what we’ve come up with. Inspired by games like INSIDE, Signalis, and Control — and TV shows like Severance, we’ve created a world that feels both familiar and hauntingly surreal.

Imagine a post-apocalyptic sci-fi landscape, influenced by weird fiction world-building in such works as Jeff Vandermeer's Area X or the Annihilation film.

It’s “sony-walkman retrofuturism” in a game.

A Message from Alx Preston, Founder & Creative Director

You’ll notice that Possessor(s) shares DNA with Hyper Light Drifter, despite being an entirely different world and story. As a studio, we’re eternally applying valuable lessons from our past successes and mistakes to our present work. We’re carrying those lessons forward, and transforming them into something unique with this game. We hope to continue to build on our legacy while pushing the boundaries of what we can create.

At its core, Possessor(s) is a game about relationships – specifically, the ones that hurt us and how we navigate through them. We wanted to explore the idea of getting out of toxic traps and the difficult journey of self-improvement. Our characters are trying to change for the better and struggling to stop punishing themselves. The theme of possession ties into how we heal from these emotional wounds.

The world of Possessor(s) is an unsettling place where beauty and decay coexist. It’s hopeful, it’s dark, and it’s waiting for you to explore it.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 11 Surrogate

A Desertwalkers Weird West AU Story (I did not intend to write any of the FC AUs, but such things happen. How the Strikers' perpetual helpfulness lands them a new home...)

“Now hold on just a minute,” Zaine said, staring at the Landsguard officer. The doppro rider stared back, impatience evident. “This was supposed to be a temporary position.”

“I am simply the messenger,” the officer replied with a shrug of his mottled shoulders. “Take it up with the city if you wish to change the terms of the contract.”

Zaine stared down at the paper before him. He had sort of fallen into helping Stonewood’s judiciary with the claims office, as he was a decent mediator, able to make friends with both locals and those coming to the plains of Xak Tural for work in the ceruleum refineries and railway expansion. There were land disputes, and water disputes, and animal issues, and crop concerns...

But he was just here for the interim. They would find a real officer from Tuliyollal to take over, and Zaine and his sister could move on, exploring the land as they had planned. Once things settled down a bit for Stonewood and the friends they had made here.

The writ from the city, delivered by the increasingly impatient Landsguard officer, not only confirmed Zaine permanently for the role, but expanded the responsibilities—as someone dealing with the local property issues would also be responsible for estate settlement and the probate of wills.

“I might have to,” Zaine said, a headache coming on. “I didn’t really think they would hire an immigrant drifter into such a position.”

Then again, he and Aeryn had stood up to Baelsar and his aggressive expansion on behalf of this town and neighboring communities. That probably had a chunk to do with it.

The officer chuckled. “What you get for being good at it,” he said. “And Tuliyollal is more concerned with what one chooses to do, than where one is from. We could not have formed our nation otherwise.”

“Suppose that’s true,” Zaine muttered. “All right, I won’t take more of your time. I’d best speak to my sister and see what we do from here.”

“Great. Have a good day,” the officer said, leaving before Zaine could get his own farewell in.

Well. All right then.

He closed up his office for the day (and it really was his office now, wasn’t it?) and stepped out into the hot, dusty street. He thought of getting a drink, thought better of it, and continued on to the schoolhouse, where Aeryn had been helping out.

Aeryn was outside, class apparently dismissed for the day. She was talking to one of the adolescent students, a petite redhead she seemed fond of. Or maybe it was the girl’s uncle, a smarmy, fair-haired, gunblade-using bodyguard for the local coven, and sometimes bouncer for the Cat’s Eye Cabaret. Normally Aeryn didn’t notice anyone who noticed her. But there was...something...in the way her and the bodyguard interacted that made Zaine’s brotherly hackles rise.

His sister saw him coming now, smiling and waving cheerfully, her student following suit. Nice girl, that Ryne. Her mum was a lovely blonde mining foreman, often busy, hence the girl spending more time with her uncle. There was some connection to the cabaret owner, too. Zaine hadn’t thought he needed to worry too deeply about complicated family dynamics around here.

Maybe he would have to start.

Ryne stayed long enough to greet him before skipping off to meet with her friends, taking the hand of a dark-haired gal as the youths rushed off. Aeryn let out a deep breath. “I have something to talk to you about,” she said with no preamble.

“I have something to talk to you about,” Zaine answered, walking with her toward the rooms they were renting. “You go first.”

“The superintendent rode out today,” she said. “They want to extend my contract.”

Zaine frowned. “Thought this teaching gig was a temporary thing?”

“I thought so too, but they’re having trouble finding anyone qualified willing to come out here, and I’m apparently doing well enough for the board and the parents both. And the children are all so good…”

“And you want to stay,” Zaine said.

“I’ve thought about it,” Aeryn admitted. “It still may not be forever, but...for awhile?” She looked over at him.

“Well,” he said. “That could work. Considering my interim position isn’t so interim now.”

“Were you fired?”

“What? No! Why is that your first assumption?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve only known you my whole life.”

“Whatever, smartypants. It’s the opposite actually. They made my role permanent.”

Aeryn hugged him, grinning. “This is a good thing, right?”

He hugged her back. “I mean, yeah. I didn’t really expect it so it caught me off guard.”

“This is what you get for standing up to Baelsar.”

“I guess. You did too, though, and that might have convinced the board to keep you around.”

She shrugged. “I helped a little. You did most of it.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t ever seem to convince her that she was, possibly, more instrumental to such actions than himself. She would continue to blow it off until getting angry if pushed, so he let her change the subject.

“If we’re staying, we need somewhere to live besides a couple rented rooms.”

“I’ve thought about it,” he said. “Funnily enough, I am aware of available land around here. There’s a couple acres just outside town that I think between the two of use we could afford and manage, with our other work.”

“When you say a couple—”

“Literally two.”

She considered that, then nodded. “It’d be nice to have our own place. Weird, maybe, but nice.”

They stopped at the same time and looked at one another. Zaine began to smile, which made Aeryn smile in return.

“All right,” he said. “I guess we’re staying.”

[makoredeyes]

drifter/anyone (bonus points for rarepair), 17

*cracks knuckles* You play a dangerous game with that one, Anon <3

#17 - as a distraction

Mahjong nights were so long in standing now that the Drifter didn't even remember exactly when it had gotten started anymore. Time was kind of a screwy thing when you lived forever, but it couldn't have been that long because Eva still looked the same, and so did Tess, sort of. Unless Eva was just unaging because she was practicing some weird sort of life-force vampirism on Guardians or something.

He wouldn't put it past her.

Nice lady, real sweet.

Wouldn't trust her for five seconds outside of game night and her little holiday shindigs though.

And he knew she was on the exact same level with him. But that didn't matter on game night. Especially when Tess had brought a particularly fine bottle of aged whiskey as the winner's prize.

Now, Mahjong took three things to win: Skill, Strategy, and Luck. Drifter had a whole lot of all three, and he knew he could wipe these ladies right out of the tower every damn match if he really wanted to, but he liked to meter his winnings: keep it fair, and keep his true skills on the down-low. Sometimes he let them win for months before he took one, playing one dumb chip after another even if it hurt a little, because the Drifter was about playing the long game. For nights like tonight, when he was going to be taking that bottle home hell or high water.

"My, fortune is favoring you tonight my dear," Eva crooned, as Drifter laid down another piece, his hand getting smaller and smaller. "Not doing anything extra to help your luck, I hope." Tess made a soft snrk and sat back, blinking widely at the old woman and Drifter. Drifter sat up, clutching at his heart as though he'd been deeply wounded.

"Yer not suggestin' I'm cheatin' are ya?" He crooned. "I'd neva! Not when I know you could tear the recipe for my favorite cookies outta that cookbook you give the Guardians every year!" He held his hands up, shaking them and showing his sleeves were free of tricks. "Jus' good ole luck for the Drifter tonight, 'fraid."

Eva eyed him up and down, a little smirk playing on her lips.

What the Drifter hadn't yet realized, was he wasn't the only one playing win-or-die for that bottle.

"Well thank you for your honesty, dear," Eva simpered. She reached out and patted his hand when he lowered it, then leaned in and gave him a wet, sticky smack of a kiss right on the corner of the mouth.

He shuddered, his mind going blank.

Oh! No! Not good! He was not into that!

Brr!

Her lipstick was weird and waxy and her skin was fragile-soft and there was a weird sweetness to her breath on his skin and it was burned into his nostrils and he could taste it and he'd swapped spit with a lot of weird stuff but the self-proclaimed universal grandma to all was not on his to-do list and he'd never once taken an appraising eye to her and he never intended to.

Tess' eyebrows shot up and she stifled a smirk as she fought to keep from laughing as the Drifter struggled not to squirm, sputter, or do anything else uncouth. He was a professional after all, but this time his poker face faltered.

"Th-thanks, Eva," he wheezed, grimacing when he realized he probably couldn't get away with wiping his face with his sleeve.

Eva only nodded. She'd hit her mark. He didn't even realize how badly his focus had slipped, but his game was dreadful after that, and she slid right past him to eventually win. It wasn't until both women had trounced the Drifter into the ground and Eva had her whisky in hand, that he realized what had happened.

"You sly old bat," he drawled, eyeing her and finally giving his face a good scrub with his sleeve. "You did that on purpose."

She flashed him a viper's smile.

"Did what, dear?"

[kivaember]

you: arthur is so exhausted by drifter’s antics but also deeply amused and would never admit it

me, last night to my bestie: arthur needs to be bullied for his own sake bc he takes his hero-ing too seriously and needs the reminder to be a normal guy sometimes. it’s for his health.

i am shaking ur hand so hard

SHAKES UR HAND BACK

you get it. this is why i really like the drifter/arthur dynamic bc i feel like drifter can get arthur to loosen up just bc arthur's seriousness and prickly attitude kinda rolls off of drifter's back bc they're used to dealing with emotionally repressed people.

its like late here and work was long so my brain is kinda mush but like, i think about how aoi and arthur didn't work out because aoi wanted more overt emotional engagement than arthur was willing to give (or in the right headspace to do) and bc they didn't share enough interests to the point where arthur actively disliked one of aoi's main interests (music, specifically stuff like on-lyne) or apathetic (the crane folding)-

(and honestly aoi was so valid here because she was right to realise that while she and arthur make good friends, they're not compatible romance wise (AND LET ME SAY THANK YOU DE FOR MAKING AOI AND ARTHUR EXES BUT NOT WEIRD ABOUT IT! PLS GIVE US MORE AMICABLE EXES WHO END UP BEING BEST FRIENDS BC THEY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BUT ARE TERRIBLE FOR EACH OTHER WHEN ROMANCE IS IN THE MIX you so rarely see it in media so im gobbling it up))

-but drifter and arthur are actually so much more alike but not in a way that end up with them getting on each other's nerves or misunderstanding each other. Like, drifter gets arthur and why he is the way he is, and quickly adapts during the KIM convos to ask "oh hey, am I asking the wrong things again?" and keeping to the boundaries arthur sets. but on the other hand, i feel like drifter is also very good at testing arthur's boundaries in a way that results in a positive effect - pushing arthur to not turtle up and actually engage without forcing him onto the defensive.

drifter doesn't build up anything in their head about arthur. aoi realised they were incompatible bc she prepared this big romantic gesture with smth she would find romantic, and was understandably hurt when arthur was dismissive of it bc he was unaware of how much it meant to her. drifter, i feel, would be more... sits and thinks what arthur would find romantic, talk out their brainstorming to helminth who just doesnt care, finally settles on smth that is kind of deranged but bc of that, arthur is able to stand there in confusion long enough to realise that this drifter trying to do a romantic gesture rather than just being weird, and respond appropriately.

tl;dr drifter bewilders and catches arthur off-guard enough that he actually takes time to process why drifter is doing the things they do. drifter, meanwhile, just kinda throws the spaghetti at the wall in terms of "trying to navigate my first relationship ever" and is pleasantly surprised when it somehow works out. also helminth now knows more about the demon's illicit affair with one of its kin than it wanted to. how did helminth end up as drifter's love guru. it just happened.

but yeah, arthur needs to be bullied but in a way that he finds retroactively funny once he has a moment to pause and think about it, and drifter is just that level of chaotic confusing to achieve it. also drifter has pretty thick skin and is good at understanding people who has the emotional skills of a feral cat, so they're somehow one of those couples that are like. "their worst traits somehow make each other better? never let them date other people tho god."

[virmink-united]

Thinking about my Drifter, going back to 1999 with only the clothes on her back, which is just fancy ARMOR and the Hex being like "you know you dont have to wear that when we're not fighting anything right? There's tons of shops around, go find something you like".

And at first she's like, "but I'm always fighting, i need to be ready"

And they have to gently explain to her that they in no way expect her to be going out on missions 24/7 or doing everything on her own, and that they usually take shifts between them so others can have 'days off' to not overexert/overwhelm themselves.

So the Drifter reluctantly goes off on a little shopping trip with Aoi and Eleanor (idk if lettie would be into that tbh), and is utterly confused at how these thin layers of "armor" are supposed to protect anyone from literally anything. Again they have to explain that its not armor, its just clothes to feel comfortable.

So both Aoi and Eleanor help her compile an outfit: a heavy, plaid green jacket, a black turtle neck, some jeans and boots that dont look like they're about to disintegrate if looked at wrong.

Its still deeply deeply weird for the Drifter, but... the fabric is soft and warm, it doesn't cling to her skin like the skinsuits she's so used to wearing do; despite having been left untouched in the mall for who knows how long, she looks clean and refreshed and doesn't look like she got dragged through hell and back. She still feels bare without armor but... somehow safe at the same time.

[herrscherofmagic]

i think i've just had another HoV revelation, this time about Captainverse HoV

paging @sacron1143, i feel like you'd like to see this and you might know enough about the captainverse to add any supporting or disproving evidence to this theory of mine!

so obvi many of the captainverse events were meant to be less serious and more silly, so I think that stuff like the recurring gag of NEET Water Djinn (the common Captainverse version of HoV) isn't meant to be analyzed too deeply. Water Djinn appears everywhere cause it's funny, that's it.

buuuuuut, if we were to try and analyze her as a character, then there's one thing that's always struck me as a bit odd, which is that she appears so often even in places that she seems totally foreign to. like in Odd Drifter we meet her in a desert despite being a "Water Djinn", or in Seele's dream in the Estival Seaside event. We even see the writers themselves poke fun at this in the 2nd-to-last Captainverse event when we meet a Water Djinn somewhere on Himeko's bubble world and Captain is just like "why r u everywhere, r you mass-produced lol" and she's all like "bro what's your problem, piss off"

however there IS one bubble world where the Water Djinn has a clear origin, where she actually seemed to belong and where there were other characters with a meaningful relationship with her... which was the Honkai Quest bubble world. In that bubble world Water Djinn was one of two spirits, the other being a blue-eyed version of her, and the orange-eyed one corresponded to HoV and the blue-eyed one w/ Kiana. But the two of them weren't identical copies per se; they were sisters. And then we had the forest spirit Bianka to boot, who didn't have an explicit connection back then but now with the revelation of Bianka being the real Kiana it's plausible that she was related to the two water spirits too.

The thing is that older Water Djinn (HoV) didn't "die" in the events of that story- she disappeared. Into a rift. We know how screwy the Sea of Quantum can get, so for someone like Water Djinn to get yoinked out of her world by a Quantum rift wouldn't be unusual at all. Water Djinn was established to be a powerful fighter at that time, and she only got pulled into the rift because she was weakened at that moment. It's possible, though not necessarily plausible, that she was still strong enough to survive after being taken by the rift even if she wasn't strong enough to avoid getting swallowed up by it. And we've seen plenty of times where healthy & powerful characters get yoinked by a rift without their consent, i.e. Misteln semi-accidentally kicking Kira out of the SSHC bubble world.

All that is to say- what if all the random Water Djinns we see in the Captainverse are somehow derived from the original Water Djinn of the Honkai Quest bubble world? I doubt they're all the same individual because of the varying circumstances we find them in, but they're always in a weird limbo where they're out-of-place in the world they're at and they don't seem to have a clear purpose or direction. Just like the Captain's mind apparently split from Kongming's portal shenanigans, maybe the Water Djinns throughout the SoQ are fragments of the original one, or maybe they're echoes of her wandering through the SoQ and the "real" one is still out there.

of course we'll never know because the Captainverse is over now, but i hope there's still an alive-and-well Water Djinn out there looking for a chance to be reunited with her younger sister, the younger sister who so desperately searched for even the smallest trace of her bigger sister after she disappeared from the world.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

okay last thing for now I swear. But I realized that you might get joy from all the things I thought Eris Mourn was before I gave up and asked.

(Very important note is I was going in blind except for a handful of factoids that a friend gave me. As it turns out this friend was very bad at video game lore.)

'That Wizard came from the moon' is referring to Eris Mourn. She looked like a wizard from the moon to me. This one was probably the closest tbh.

After finding out what a wizard was I just assumed she was an Awoken and that's what powerful Awoken look like. Wrong direction, past me.

Mara doesn't have three eyes so obviously that's wrong. Did the Traveler just bring her back weird?

No ghost? Okay so she's an Ahamkara. I heard that word used a couple times around her so clearly that's what she's supposed to be!

Eris Mourn is Hive God Savathun. This was from my friend attempting to course-correct the Ahamkara theory but they corrected me from flying into a brick wall to flying into a different, closer, brick wall. I don't know why they told me this.

Thank you for tolerating my silliness, feel free to ignore or also point and laugh at past me XD The fun part of going into games blind is coming up with absolutely wild theories that aren't even a little bit true. Like thinking the Cabal aren't real and I was misremembering how many factions there are.

Ok so, these are all pretty close to the mark, narratively speaking, and not silly at all.

I mean, "that Wizard came from the Moon" is... a reasonable assumption. She wields Hive magic and lives on the Moon. (Although Eris would probably be deeply insulted because she can probably murder Hive Wizards in her sleep.)

For the longest time the lore was ambiguous and people did think Eris was Awoken because she calls Asher Mir (who is Awoken) "cousin" and she has a very sickly skin tone. But, as it turns out, she was born in the Last City, which makes her a garden variety boring normal human. Being underground for a century in a hostile environment while being hunted to death by Hive just does really terrible things to your skin.

Brought back weird is also a good theory. Especially now that we have Lucent Hive. Eris is definitely weird. Not a bad conjecture, all things considered.

Ahamkara is also a good guess - for anything, really. They're shape-shifters and can look like anyone so "when in doubt maybe Ahamkara?" is generally Destiny-plausible, albeit rare and unusual, (not to mention, her glowing ball is an Ahamkara bone and she was only able to learn how to escape the Hellmouth because of a wish so your intuition was bang-on, just not for the right target).

Now the last one you came up with is especially interesting, lore-wise, because Sav did infiltrate the Hidden network and impersonated Eris in several lore entries. It is infamously referenced online as "the time Savathun wrote Eris fanfiction" and is debunked by the Hidden in other lore entries later. So, again, while missing the mark, it's shockingly accurate as far as intuitive leaps in story go and that does happen, just not in that specific way.

But, if you will forgive me for doing so, there's one more misonception in your ask that you may not be aware of that I want to tell you about: the spelling of Eris' last name.

And the only reason I point it out is not to tease you about a spelling mistake but because it is an exquisitely beautiful resonant and powerful bit of imagery and wordplay that I don't think a lot of people realize.

You've been referencing her above as Eris Mourn.

Mourn: Feel or show deep sorrow or regret for (someone or their death).

But, while it sounds exactly the same, Eris' last name in game is spelled Morn.

Morn: Dawn. Morning.

The dual nature of her last name is already lovely because it encapsulates so much of her character but the fact that it is Morn and not Mourn ties in very closely with two specific pieces of dialogue in game:

In the Prophesy dungeon:

Drifter: Hey, Three Eyes. You spending all your time on Io now? Eris Morn: Or the Moon. Depending on the weather. Drifter: What do you think of all this? Eris Morn: All of what? Drifter: The black fleet. The end of the line. End of the Light. Eris Morn: It hasn't come to that. Not yet. Drifter: How do you know? Eris: It hasn't been dark enough. Drifter: Look at the sky. Nightfall's comin'. Eris Morn: We'll live in the night if we have to. I've been there before. So have you. So has the Guardian. Drifter: It ain't pleasant. Eris Morn: No. But necessary. For what follows. Drifter: And what's that? Eris Morn: Dawn.

And then brought up again, this time by Drifter to Eris in Gloaming Journeyer:

"I remember what you said. I think about it more than I should these days." "What did I say?" "That we'll live in the night if we have to. We do it for what comes after."

Eris, while her entire backstory is about the loss of her fireteam, and she becomes a full-on Hive god to avenge them, really is the embodiment of hope within Destiny.

And this is nowhere more true than in her interactions with… Dredgen Hope, named by the Darkness itself after that which he did not, and could not, have because of who he was and what he had experienced: the drifter with no family and no name, who trusted no one, and who, upon befriending us, told us not to give in to hope because that would only ever get us killed.

Eris is named after morning, dawn, daybreak.

Because, within the narrative of Destiny, the image of dawn breaking over the darkest part of the night is not a soft angelic light, sweet and gentle.

It's the grim snarl of a Forgotten Blade dragging itself, broken and bloodied, out of the deepest pit of hell.

The glow of Morn comes, not from some distant star, but from the three eyes she cut from the face of the enemy she killed while blind and lightless, which she then embedded in holes she carved into her body, cutting out her own sightless eyes and piercing her own skull to do so because, despite everything, in an inescapable situation, against all logic and reason, facing absolute certain death, she refused to fucking die.

Aiat.

[haz3-daz3]

Here I'm then with a drifters request ^^. What about some fluffy Naoshi hc's? I need some fluff in my life right now haha (tell me if it's too vague!)

I did it. idk if this counts as fluff however :/

I hope it's enough though!

lots of swearing because hey it's not a Naoshi fic without the swearing

Naoshi Kanno x F!Reader Fluff Headcanons (SFW)

So being stuck in the woods where a bunch dogs and cats walking on two feet referring to you as some weird-ass “Sky God” or whatever the shit they decide to label you as definitely going to grate on a guy’s nerves. Especially if your name is Naoshi Kanno.

Why in the hell is he even here? The man remembers seeing the blue sea fuckin’ plummeting into it in high speed and suddenly he’s in somewhere else where dragons and shit are hogging the sky who then burn a bunch of people to a crisp. Which Naoshi took care of because fuck that shit messing up with his head.

And now he’s in said woods, or jungle, he can’t fucking tell all he knows is that it’s hot as summer dog shit. Which wouldn’t surprise there’s way too many dogs in this place. And not to mention a goddamn Italian who can’t speak Japanese. Asshole.

So when you appeared all stupid with that dumb airheaded smile and speaking in his tongue he had to take a double take because what in the fuck, why the fuck was there some chick here??? Also what translation charms?? This world is too damn confusing he sometimes thinks he’s drunk too much and is dreaming at some bar or in the barracks drooling on the floor.

But ever since then, you’ve, for some reason, decided that you found him fun and have been following him around because…well fuck if he knows. This entire follow-Naoshi thing has been going on for some weeks now and…it’s not unpleasant. Not that he’ll ever admit that to you. Tch.

It’s not that Naoshi doesn’t know how to interact with women, he’s certainly asked his friends and comrades in the 343rd Air Group to send gals his way on account of him wanting to settle down after the war but you’re quite different from those more demure dames that he’s used to, huh? He finds it weird that he’s just accepted that he was kind of being pursued instead of being the pursuer. Not the kind of things a man thinks about while speeding through the air trying not to get killed before taking down everyone else with you but then again, Naoshi rarely thought too deeply besides where he’ll get his next meal, lay or drink. Or all of it.

In other words, Naoshi’s dumbly staring at you all unsure because for some reason you thought it’d be great to cut up those apples and peel mangoes you keep asking the Italian to help you get and feeding it to him because he was apparently being “too cranky”? He was pissed off because damn bugs keep getting stuck to his scarf and what the fuck keeps biting him?!

“The fuck do you mean cranky?! This hellhole’s got mosquitoes everywhe—“

That was the sound of you shutting Naoshi up by shoving a bunny-carved apple into his wide, spitballing, ranty mouth.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You said, snickering like it was supposed to mean something but really it just made him chew on his fruit more, enraged. But just as he was about to speak, you shoved more fruits into his mouth.

The entire afternoon was spent with you being your weird 2024 self asking shit about him and his life and…being interested. Which he won’t lie was refreshing, but he hated the fact that it left him feeling unsure since his previous flings would ask him shit too but never with that look in your eye.

Naoshi still can’t believe you’re from a hundred and so years after he was born. “Are all the women in your time this forward?” He snorted, willingly snagging a bite of the mango you’ve peeled for the nth time, he doesn’t know nor care. It just feels oddly nice sitting down under a tree and not think about whether he’ll be sent to a mission that might mean his last, whether he’ll even have the chance to say goodbye to friends and family.

But your reply threw him off balance more than the first time his Kawanishi N1K failed on him and he thought he was gonna die.

“Only to the men we like.”

…Huh.

“The fuck?” Naoshi muttered, his voice not that loud, belligerence-laced tone that it usually was as he looked at you and oh shit, that blush is cute.

You only smiled to yourself all coy and bashful and he doesn’t know how the fuck you manage that but he stayed frozen on the ground, mango juices staining the corner of his lips while he watched you walk away.

And then his brain finally caught up with what happened and he scrambled to his feet, sprinting after you, catching your wrist.

Pulling you to him, your body pressed against his chest as he decided “fuck it” and smashed his lips against yours.

Was it uncoordinated as shit? It was but that didn’t matter.

Not when you tilted your head and your hands went up under his aviator’s cap to grasp at his trimmed black strands.

[blujayonthewing]

I'm inserting a crisp dollar into the Thoughts About Felix machine, wondering:

What are his sleeping habits like?

What are his coping mechanisms?

He's granted three wishes. What's the fourth thing he would wish for?

How would you describe him, using only emoji?

me @ this ask

Left to his own devices he's naturally inclined to be crepuscular; in his home village it was normal for most people to sleep both in the middle of the night and the middle of the day (though a little longer at night), and for the day to start well before dawn and end well after dark. Since he's kind of a loner and drifter at the moment he can usually still get away with this kind of sleeping schedule even after having left home; people get the impression that he never sleeps, or must sleep really poorly, because he appears to be out wandering around at all hours, but really he's just splitting up his sleep. After spending so much time in human/ mixed cities he has gotten better at being able to adjust to only sleeping at night when needs be, but he gets noticeably sleepy around lunchtime if he's not getting naps in.

He's a pretty light sleeper, partly because his hearing is so sensitive; he likes to be cozy, and preferably somewhere very quiet and dark, but he can fall asleep fairly easily almost anywhere. I feel like I have a lot of OCs who routinely stay up way too late/ refuse to sleep or, like, sleepwalk, or are otherwise Bad At Sleep, but actually his sleep habits are generally pretty good, unusual circadian rhythm notwithstanding, lol.

YELLS IT'S GETTING SO LONG SORRY I AM INCAPABLE OF BREVITY SDFKJHDFKGJ

Coping mechanisms! Small scale/ acute: he fidgets a lot, chews on things. He's mostly gotten himself out of the habit of biting his nails by redirecting to other stuff (he goes through pencils a lot faster than he actually wears them out with use). A big go-to is seeking space to be alone, particularly somewhere high up; as a kid he used to climb trees a lot, and now in aboveground cities he spends a lot of time sitting on roofs.

For bigger/ more ongoing things... it depends. On the one hand, it can feel comforting to surround himself with people by spending time in places that feel crowded without being intimate, like markets or popular taverns, but it stresses him out if people can tell he's Going Through Something, so he ends up isolating a lot instead, or just hanging out with animals and avoiding people (pigeons aren't usually good enough at humanoid body language to pick up on and ask about anything short of an actual breakdown, for one thing, but on the other hand breaking down fully in front of animals still feels significantly less stressful than in front of other people, somehow). He hates talking about himself, and he really hates trying to explain his feelings, especially when he's already having a bad time, so he doesn't really get a lot of support even when he really needs it. He mostly doesn't Journal His Feelings with his sketch/ travel journal, but I think he's more inclined to do so at least a little bit when he's trying to cope with something just because he's got no other good outlet, much less someone he can actually talk to.

In terms of coping beyond the immediate 'managing the feelings' sense, he always wants to understand things as much as possible, so a big part of coping with anything is to try to learn everything about it he can. Like, not that this has happened to him but he's very much primed to be the guy whose loved one disappears/ is killed under suspicious circumstances which sets off a chain of events leading to his single-handedly unraveling some deep convoluted conspiracy-- you know? Something extremely upsetting and Deeply Weird happened to him before the campaign started, and now he's obsessed with making sense of it. Honestly, now that I'm writing this all out, I imagine his interest in studying people and body language and social nuances and motivations came at least partly from a way to cope with not understanding those things intuitively like other people seem to, and being really bad at performing social skills correctly himself 🤔

Lacing my fingers in front of my lips pensively. The wishes question is so intriguing. ...... okay. I have his three wishes. The unwished fourth wish is 'I wish for [people who left him for dead] to forget that I exist.'

the lad in emojis: 🥺🤫🐈👁👁👂🔍🍂💬❔

[fyridis]

funny that I made a whole post about games and didn't even think about mentioning FFXIV. even though I play it like 10-15 hours per week and it is literally how I met one of my partners. but tbf it's kind of hard for me to ever call an MMO a 'favorite'. like you could probably make some kind of silly revealed preferences argument but at the end of the day for me a true favorite game probably needs to have like 2 or 3 of the following

irrevocably shaped who you are today (Xenosaga, P3, Tales, Ōkami, LoZ)

deeply compelling narrative/storytelling/world (Night in the Woods, The Last of Us, Disco Elysium, Shadow of the Colossus, FF9&10)

standout gameplay (Hyper Light Drifter, Journey, Gris, Celeste, Baba Is You)

whatever it is that Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door has going on (the It's Just Plain Good factor)

weird (Everhood, various RPGMaker games)

[edgygayguy]

Alright alright!!! (I never get to talk about my drifter and operator damn)

I never bothered to give her a name, she's just The Drifter. My operator is male so there is some mtf shenanigans going on here.

Her whole deal is that the transition from duviri to the origin system had more of an impact on her than the stay in the void. Now she's a hardened guerilla warrior with an obsession with efficiency. Her favourite tactic is to deal with the enemy stealthily herself, and if she's found out she can always unleash the destructive power of her Warframe (Qorvex preferred).

She cares deeply for the operator and others around her.

Personality wise she's calm and reserved but with a sense of humor. She loves pretending to be cold and uncaring for like 5s before dropping the act as a joke. She loves to either spend time alone with Lettie, have a ride around Duviri chatting with the inhabitants or spend hours in the simulacrum.

She gets along best with Lettie and Eleanor, is besties with Aoi, does trauma bonding with Arthur, is somewhat of a big sister for Amir and has a weird frenemies but not really relationship with Quincy (they both love guns and having fake arguments with each other).

I will probably make hex/hex art for valentine's day, but also as someone who doesn't like drifter/hex as much,

is there anyone willing to be cute for drifter/drifter fanart?

I haven't thought about it as much cause i have confidence blocks with doing OCs, but my drifter's general vibe i entertained was: vain, QUIET like he won't be piping in that's for sure but his gaze tells you everything, horsegirl but edgy, kind of an ego and VERY morally ambiguous (i know that's drifters/operators in general but i mostly read it as goody-two-shoes still, like with my guy you dont know if he sacrifices himself for you or if he tosses you in to save himself, keep 'em guessing 😎)

this is my invitation for you to talk about your single-ready-to-mingle drifters (or ready to form a ragtag universe-saving group, guardians of the galaxy are shaking in fear of competition) must be okay with getting a free art from me of their and mine drifter!

[thefirstknife]

I'm deeply sorry, but there is a small detail in the Witness's cutscene at the end of the WQ campaign that is driving me nuts and I really want to know your opinion:

Could it be that the Witness can break the forth wall?

I know it sounds like a Doki Doki Literature Club rip-off, but hear me out

I don't know how many people noticed this, but, after watching the cutscene a couple of times, I started to think that the choice of making the Witness speak, then turn around and face the camera to continue its monologue was very weird and almost out of place

I understand that the scene is structured so that it's clear that whatever message the Witness is sending to the Traveler is referred to us as well, but the choice of an "evil monologue" (in an empty room??) simple doesn't add up for a villain of its caliber, also considering that:

1 - they could have just shown its face in some other way that would have given the same effect

2 - it was clear it was talking/referring to the Traveler while speaking (in the scene you see a weird veil thing in front of the Witness showing it, so it's kinda obvious)

But the point is exactly that the Witness stopped talking to the Traveler and turned to speak with us: no other Destiny villain nor character ever did this once in the whole franchise, so why suddenly are we having a character facing the camera directly and make it explicit that it's talking to us as the Players?

I may just be seeing things because I really want someone else in the Destiny universe to break the fourth wall (aside from that Ahamkara piece of armor and the Emissary), but I can't unsee this now and I need answers - or a debate, both are good 0^0

It's very possible!

It wouldn't be the first time there was a 4th wall break in Destiny. Savathun in particular is known for doing it before. Truth to Power lore book is full of weird references and phrases, but one specific tab featured the following:

The letter reads "Achieve Light Level 999 and defeat Dûl Incaru in a one-person fireteam to unlock the true ending of the Dreaming City."

On top of this being 4th wall breaking by itself, it also spurned a lot of theories and people believed that following this instruction would break the curse on the Dreaming City. So one guy actually started working on it. It wasn't fully possible until they introduced artifacts in Shadowkeep.

Max power level at the time was about 930 if I remember correctly. It took an incomprehensible amount of time for him to level his artifact (during Season of Undying) to reach 999, which he did. He then went to solo Shattered Throne, as per instructions. He streamed it and had people helping him through the stream so he succeeded.

Nothing happened ofc, but devs wrote a congratulations post on the website! And it was graffiti'd by Savathun. So she directly interacted with us through the website, therefore escaping the game. This is the clearest 4th wall break we've ever had.

As you noted, the Nine are also known to be 4th wall breaking. Most notably apparent through Dares of Eternity which are directly treated like it's aware that we are players, but also the Nine tend to appear like they're speaking to us, the players.

Similarly phrased and acted out as the Witness cutscene, there's the Invitations of the Nine for the final, 9th, visit. There's a cutscene of the Emissary of the Nine talking to Drifter. He asks if there's anything else he can do for her (sarcastically, he's tired of the Nine's bullshit) and the next scene is just the Emissary looking directly at the screen, saying "Keep playing the game."

It's very much on the nose with how it's framed.

And ofc, ahamkara do this as well. For those that don't know, most notably, in Claws of Ahamkara:

Yes, we are here. We are not the photons on your screen, or the voice in your head, or the words you read.

And Skull of Dire Ahamkara:

I came to find you, only you, because you're special. You're from somewhere real. And together we can burn our way back there. Can't we, o player mine?

So, is it possible the Witness did it too? Absolutely. Especially when compared with the Emissary scene:

And ofc, both reference "the game" which can definitely be read as in-game universe thing, but also, considering all of this, could also be a reference to the fact that these entities know they're in a game.

The Witness is also talking directly to the screen in Lightfall trailer as well. Calus doesn't, not that I can see at least. When Calus is shown face-first, he seems to be looking up and away, towards the Witness off screen:

And the first time we see the Witness, it is looking back at Calus:

But then for the rest of it, it's looking at us:

So yeah, it's definitely possible! At least, it can double as a 4th wall break and it can be seen as the Witness talking to the Guardians as well as talking to the players directly. And it makes sense even! All of these examples of known 4th wall breaking were done by highly paracausal and unique entities, so it's more than likely that the being that embodies the Darkness would be able to do it as well.

[maddie-grove]

Little Book Review: The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires

Author: Grady Hendrix.

Publication Date: 2020.

Genre: Horror.

Premise: It's 1993 in Charleston, South Carolina, and Patricia Campbell is trying to raise her kids, keep up with the house, and take care of her doctor husband's senile mother-in-law. Her only real outlet is her book club, where she reads true crime and (usually gory) fiction with four other stay-at-home moms. Then James Harris, a strangely charismatic drifter with a sun allergy and mysterious wads of cash, comes into town. Patricia strikes up a friendship with him despite her reservations, but soon it becomes clear that something is extremely wrong. But what can a harried, none-too-confident housewife do in the face of unspeakable evil?

(Spoilers below!)

Thoughts: This book's sassy title and creepy-cute cover (a peach with vampire bite marks on it) don't really prepare the reader for an ambitious, deeply upsetting story about sexism, racism, domestic abuse, weird sex stuff, and vampire-as-counterculture-drifter, punctuated by Grand Guignol spectacles of gore and violence. I was prepared, of course. I only got really excited to read the book after I heard about one of its grimmer elements, plus I'd already read Hendrix's My Best Friend's Exorcism, which is marketed in a similarly winking way but puts its heroine through the fucking wringer. Hendrix's all-out approach pays off, for the most part. Overall, it does what I think a horror novel should do: letting you plunge into the gross, scary thoughts that you avoid in everyday life so you can fully process them. What would happen if everyone turned on you? If you lost your sense of self? If a bunch of rats just tried to eat a woman? The lady who taught my confirmation class in eighth grade was wrong; such exercises are good for the soul.

As in My Best Friend's Exorcism, one of the strongest elements here is the social horror. Patricia starts out the story in an okay place; her family takes her for granted, especially her work-preoccupied husband Carter, and she feels like she needs some kind of worthy hobby, but she feels her problems are fixable and not that big. Her realization that James Harris is committing terrible, bizarre crimes causes her some inner turmoil, but she's able to take steps to try and stop him. Then she crosses a line, at least in the eyes of the men around her. Carter, always condescending and irritable, proves himself willing to humiliate, gaslight, and use their children against her. Her book club friends, previously willing to back her up, abandon her under varying degrees of pressure from their husbands. Her children, aware of Carter's contempt for her and frightened by her resulting depression, are alienated from her. Soon she's convinced that she went crazy and made the whole thing up, that all the problems in the family are her fault (and never the fault of Carter, who simultaneously undermines her authority and harshly criticizes her for failing to enforce his brainlessly authoritarian parenting edicts), that it's cool how James Harris took over the book club and made everyone read Tom Clancy. Vampires aren't real, but that shit sure is.

The weakest element is easily the attempt to tackle racism. It's basically an inferior version of the Atlanta Child Murders plot in the second season of Mindhunter. The most significant black character, home health aide Mrs. Ursula Greene, is way underwritten given her importance to the story. There’s potential for her to be a complex, dynamic character—she seems to be a popular, outgoing woman with tons of church friends and a rapport with the kids in her neighborhood, whose attempts to protect her own children and the neighbors’ from James Harris offer an interesting compare-and-contrast to Patricia’s efforts—but Hendrix doesn’t spend enough time in her head or her life. She’s mostly stuck with the thankless role of highlighting Patricia’s flaws as an ally, and the flattening of her character undercuts the intended message.

Hot Goodreads Take: "The gender non-specific name 'Grady,' paired with a female MC, led me to think the author was female," says one unhappy reviewer. No offense but that makes a lot less sense than assuming, that Wendy's is a woman-owned business.

[rhaenyratargeryn]

Title: Continuously, Without Interruption Rating: 🍋 Pairing: Takemura x female!V Summary: AU pwp fic where Takemura and V stick together after the events of the main story mission “Search and Destroy”. 

The motel was barely more than four walls and a dirty mattress, paint peeling off in stained chips and carpet reeking of cigarettes and booze and the faintest hint of mildew. It wasn’t preem, but when had anything in her life been?

Luxury it was not, but safe? She would take safe, especially with her arms half full with a teetering, bleeding former Arasaka bodyguard. She went for the light switch, forgetting herself, but his hand caught hers and through labored breaths he said, “No lights.”

Takemura’s voice was always low, a rumble of thunder… but in pain, it was harsher, like gravel and sandpaper. V nodded in the dim light and helped him to lean against a far wall as she fumbled around in the darkroom. She found three half melted candles and a nearly empty lighter, but it would serve well enough to give them some kind of light in the motel bathroom. What first aid supplies she’d managed to scrounge from the hotel staff were in a box that looked older than her, but last she knew, bandages didn’t expire, and even if they did, they needed them. And most importantly, V had bought a half empty bottle of vodka from a drifter hanging outside room 102.. A true medical necessity.

Takemura had been grazed by at least a bullet, that much V was certain. The older man tilted his head back against the wall he leaned against while V hurried throughout the room, bracing himself as he took in shallow, but even breaths. 

“C’mon, gotta see what we’re dealing with…”

“You ripperdoc now?” Takemura asked, repressing a dry chuckle that surely caused him pain by the way his shoulders flinched.

“Yep, step right into my office.” V said, letting him lean on her as they stumbled into the small bathroom. She shut the door, running a finger along the seam to make sure it would stay light tight. V picked up one candle and after a few flicks, managed to get a light from the lighter. The room was soon lit in a soft glow, completely unfitting for the task at hand.

Takemura’s eyes moved around the room as he sat on the edge of the tub.

“Your medical facilities are not to code.”

It was a joke, but he said it with such damn seriousness that V felt the laugh punch out of her, sharp and breathy.

“Well, ya know how it is. Cut backs.”

“Ah, I see.”

Carefully, Takemura unfurled his arm from where he clutched at his side. The bleeding had slowed, oozing sluggishly now only when he moved too much. Takemura’s fingers curled around the bottom of his shirt, tugging it free from where it tucked into his trousers. The white material was stained with dark spots, nearly black in the candlelight. 

“Let me help.” V said, automatic, thoughtless. She came to stand between his knees, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. Her hands still trembled slightly, the rush from the firefight and the pain of a couple dozen bruises doing their work. She had seen the chrome work at his throat and was unsurprised to see it continue on, flaring out over his shoulders like veins. The rest of him though was ganic, smooth skin over hard, toned muscle. 

Takemura only winced once when she peeled the fabric, tacky with blood, away from where it stuck to his left side. She knelt down, noting the blood had seeped out from the back of his shirt too.

“Fuck.”

“Indeed.”

“Well… you are gonna have one hell of a scar. How the hell were you even walkin’?”

“Had one injector. Used it after that shot.”

“Good thinkin’.”

V set the kit on Takemura’s thigh, using him as a makeshift table as she picked through the contents. There was no MaxDoc or Bounce Back, but it helped Takemura already had one dose. It would boost his own body's healing process for a good enough while… the graze looked nasty, but the bleeding had stopped. The only thing threatening to kill the old koger now was a staph infection— and given their surroundings, it was probably best to wrap him up.

With a gruff sound, he tugged his shoulder free of his sleeve, removing the soot and blood streaked shirt and discarding it on the floor. No doubt this room had seen worse.

V unscrewed the top of the vodka bottle off with one finger and then casually flicked it off, the metal clanging across the tile. She offered it to Takemura, “Anesthetic?”

He wrinkled his nose. V shrugged, took a drink herself and then, without warning, spilled a generous amount over his wound.

Takemura swore, loudly.

“Shoulda taken the anesthesia.” 

“...わるガキ.”

V’s cyberware helpfully provided a translation: Brat.

There was almost a hint of fondness in the word even, V thought for a moment. Just a little. And judging by the way he hid a smirk that was threatening to overcome the tightness of his expression, maybe she was right.

Maybe it was the blood loss, or the near death experience, or failing to convince his last chance at finding revenge for his employer— but Takemura took the bottle from her then and drank deeply.

“Wow. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You going to be doctor or comedian?” he said, taking another shorter drink as V fished through the first aid kit and pulled out a few large gauze pads. She tore the wrappers free, packing two against the wound just in case.

“Hold please, nurse.”

Takemura growled, but did as directed, setting down the bottle to help hold the bandage in place as V used the gauze roll to wrap it tightly against him. Half way done, V realized… she had never been this close to Takemura before. His body was like a furnace, overstimulated and heightened from pain and the lingering effects of adrenaline. Beneath the smell of smoke and copper V almost thought she caught the scent of cedar… of faint pepper and incense.

V finished tacking the wrappings on, using her palm to smooth over the gauze to make sure it wouldn’t come off easy. Her fingertips ghosted against his skin and she felt the muscles of his abdomen clench, a tiny, nearly undetectable shudder going out across his skin.

Her eyes lifted to his, a smirk already spreading across her lips. Takemura was doing his best not to notice, picking up the vodka bottle and swishing the contents around.

“Takemura Goro. Elite Arasaka soldier, top of the class… and ticklish.”

“Should have separated. It is not safe for us to be together.” Takemura grumbled, pointedly ignoring the statement.

“Didn’t leave you then, not gonna start now.” V said, voice a murmur as she moved to flip the first aid kit closed, sliding back away from his space. A firm hand stopped her.

“You are bleeding.”

V looked up as Takemura let go, gesturing to his own temple. V touched the same spot on her forehead and pulled her hand back to see the smudge of sticky thickened blood. The swipe of her touch had been enough to break the clot back open, a droplet of fresh warm blood pooling up and dropping down her face.

“Didn’t even notice…” V said with a hiss, the sharp pain now registering. Takemura nodded and offered her the bottle.

“Anesthesia.” 

V huffed a laugh, taking him up on the offer as she knew well enough what Takemura was going to do next. She took one quick shot and held the burning liquid in her mouth, swallowing the moment Takemura splashed the alcohol unto her temple.

“Hold please, nurse.” he said, handing her the bottle and trying to ignore the positively shit eating grin of approval she wore at her own barb returned. V handed off a large adhesive bandage to him, the kind a kid might put on a scraped knee. She was surprised how gentle his hands were, brushing aside her hair as he meticulously checked where to best place the bandage before he ripped off the thin paper on the back and settled it in place.

V’s fingers twitched, itching to hold a smoke between them. The impulse born, like most weird shit in her life recently, from Johnny. She settled on rubbing her thumb across the inside of her forefinger and middle finger, staring at nothing as silence settled over the pair of them.

It wasn’t a tense silence. It wasn’t even grave, though given their current situation such a silence would be warranted. It was… comfortable. Or just plain tired.

When he was finished, Takemura rested his right arm on his thigh, taking care not to bend too far on his injured side. He let his head bow forward, his shoulders going lax.

“... I had thought tonight... I was to face my death.” his words were slow, cautious— no. Careful.

“You had no reason to come back for me.”

“Bullshit.” V said, the word falling like an exhale. 

He tilted his head up, eyes half lidded as he met hers, looking up at him now from where she knelt. Something in V’s chest ached. A pang, sharp and sweet and good. It arched it’s way from her heart to her stomach just from the way he looked at her.

She sat up a little taller, movements going still again when his hand came up to rest against the side of her neck, holding her steady. His thumb traced a circle against the space behind her ear and V felt as if the very blood in her body had paused, her breath shorting out on an inhale. The smell of him, the heat of him… it all came crashing back into V’s perception until she all but heard Johnny groaning with exasperation in her head.

Takemura didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything and that silence gave V the boldness she needed to close the hairbreadth of distance between them and touch her lips to his. It was soft, chaste in it’s hesitance and briefness. Takemura did not kiss her back.

V pulled back, eyes fixed over his shoulder on the far wall, anything not to see his face right then. The silence stretched on until V felt she would be crushed beneath it, words forming in the back of her throat, but dying before they could reach the tip of her tongue.

Then Takemura’s other hand came up and he held her face in both his hands, firmly directing her to face him. She looked at his lips, at his jaw, anything but his eyes.

“Look at me.”

His words translated in her mind from Japanese, the change in language startling her enough into obeying him. V didn’t have to look long, because within a moment his mouth was on hers, urgent and demanding. It took a moment for V to take control of the spinning in her head, but when she did she carefully settled her hands on top of his thighs, fingers curling slightly as she slid her palms up over the fabric of his trousers until she could wrap her arms high around his middle, above the bandages. She was content to let him cradle her jaw in his hands, holding her fast as if he feared she would spring away, vanishing into smoke.

V made a small sound, soft and needy, her mouth opening at the same time as Takemura. A shudder coursed its way up and down her arms when he made a sound, rumbled and deep in his throat and then caught her bottom lip, letting his teeth press against it.

She let her nails run a slow path across his shoulder blades, tension dropping from her arms as she sunk against him. They were both ravenous for touch unmarred by violence. By pain. When was the last time she had embraced someone other than to silently subdue them? When had he? In the grand scheme of things, Takemura had been starving for longer.

Her legs were unsteady, even with him helping to set her up on her feet. They stood together, breaking their contact only when absolutely required. If his mouth was not on hers, it was on her throat, her shoulder— bared now as he pulled and tugged her shirt collar aside, desperate to feel the soft warmth of her against his skin.

V shucked off her jacket, walking backwards as Takemura pressed forward, stalking her as surely as he did his prey with eyes darkened with artificial pupils blown wide. It was his hands that pulled off her tank top, throwing it away carelessly. V gave a nervous chuckle when those same hands gripped against her lower back and forced her up hard against his chest.

The soft swell of her breast pressed firmly against his skin, the shared heat positively searing as they stumbled out of the bathroom and unto the creaking worn motel mattress.

This was stupid. Irrational. Dangerous. They needed to be on guard, to be vigilant. Arasaka was still hunting them and yet V was certain Yorniubu himself could bust through that door and Takemura would not untangle himself to kill him until he had had his fill of her.

V fumbled with his belt, Takemura’s hand coming between them to catch her wrist, stopping the movement.

“You are sure?” he managed, his voice breathless and ragged. Falling into his mother tongue was something he did when he was overwhelmed, it would seem.

V’s answer was to settle her weight back onto her shoulders and press her hips up against him in a slow, enticing roll.

“はい.” 

Takemura needed no further convincing. 

He kissed her again, thoroughly and practiced, taking her other wrist in his hand and holding them down above her head. V’s last coherent thought was to wonder where he had found time to learn, but those thoughts scattered apart like a bullet through glass when he drew his mouth down her jaw and she felt the rough scrape of his beard between her breasts.

He pace was so slow. So agonizingly slow. Placing open mouth kisses against her breastbone as if he were a man with all the time in the world. 

“Oh— so suddenly that graze doesn’t bother you? Made me drag you halfway—“

V’s voice broke off with a surprised yelp as Takemura bit her nipple, a gruff sound of disapproval in his throat at her monologuing. The slight painful tug was all but forgotten when he rolled the same tightened peak with his tongue. 

V was quiet then, except for a soft panting as he went back to his own easy pace. 

“Goro…” his name came out unbidden when he switched to her other breast, a soft laugh sending hot breath over her skin.

“Better.” 

Smug bastard. V wiggled beneath him, one hand coming free of Takemura’s grip because he let her. That fact only made her tangle her fingers even more roughly at the nape of his neck, drawing strands loose as she tugged him demanding upwards.

She could feel the smirk against his lips when she kissed him, fiercely and sharply as she bit him back.

“Why hurry?” Takemura said, in English this time, his voice a low murmur.

“Cause when Arasaka busts that door in, I’d rather die having been well fucked.”

“You will.”

God, if a voice alone could make her cum those two words would have done it. That sharp pang hit right to her core again, making her want to press her thighs together and spread them open at the same time. 

“‘Fast is slow, but continuously, without interruption.’”

For once his quoting made some goddamn sense to her. It also helped he was using his now unoccupied hand to unfasten her jeans, sitting up to pull them off her legs.

He seemed to consider for a moment, the pause making V groan in impatience and then protest when Takemura pulled back and slipped off the foot of the bed. He took off his belt and the rest of his clothes before he kneeled onto the floor.

V was rising up on her forearms to get a better look at just what the hell he was doing— that was, until his hands slipped beneath her calves and pulled her to the edge of the mattress. He guided her legs over his shoulders and without warning, licked that same trail he had over her breast up the length of her slit.

V’s hips bucked, but Takemura was ready for that too, folding his arms across her middle and keeping her held in place as he bowed his head between her thighs and utterly devoured her.

There was a joke to be made here, V was certain, given Takemura’s picky “tastes'”— but every time his tongue traced a new pattern over her labia the joke short circuited.

Even Johnny, tucked away inside her head, was silent now. 

Takemura alternated at a whim, but his pace stayed slow… deliberate. Savoring. His beard tickled against the inside of V’s thighs. She fisted the motel sheets so tightly in her hand the damn thing pulled off the corners.

He only stopped once, forgetting himself and trying to force her thigh up higher and wider and managing to pull at his wound as he raised his arm. V reached down to touch him, to brush her hand through his hair and draw her thumb over his cheek.

“You okay?”

Takemura sat up, the dazed look that had settled in his eyes since they began clearing. He pressed a kiss against her knee as he let her legs slide off his shoulders, climbing back into the bed and moved to hover over her.

“Goro? Are you okay?” She asked again, worriedly touching the gauze tape and making sure he wasn’t bleeding through.

“... I am fine.” he said at last, the words soft and almost.. awed? As if he had never said them before. V searched his expression, holding his face between her hands and feeling something in her heart strain when he shut his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Come here.” He said, though it was him who snaked his arms beneath her lower back and brought her core up flushing against his hips. 

She could feel him. Feel the length of him rested against her mound, feel the slight movement of his hips as he rubbed faintly against her.

She laid back, her hips elevated and secure in his arms. Takemura was back in his head again, eyes heavy and meditative for a lingering moment before he shifted his hips back enough to slip his head up against her and then slowly began to press into the silky wetness between her legs.

A deep deliberate breath exhaled from his lungs as V barely managed to keep herself from rolling and bucking beneath him.

No matter how many times she did it, that initial slow stretch brought with it the most intense feelings of fullness. Takemura was so poised, so controlled… V envied him in that moment and hated him for it in the best possible way. She wanted it fast and rough— pleasure easy and quick. Takemura though, clearly was more inclined to relish each and every motion.

The act felt… intimate. Too intimate. Takemura’s focus was pinpointed, every touch, every dragged out pull of his shaft inside her and then the gentle push back within her heat was done with such steady intent.

V felt almost god damn shy. The attention. The intensity. It was good, it was amazing,  but at the same time some part of her felt like it was on the verge of shattering… and the last thing she was going to fuckin’ do was cry during sex.

But fuck— when was the last time she felt safe? When was the last time she felt held? Takemura gently stroked his hand up across her stomach, over the valley of her breasts and back again, his eyes fixed on not just her but himself touching her.

V made sure not to wrap her leg around his injured waist, but squeezed at him hard with her other, trying to pull him in. To edge him on.

“Faster…?” She breathed, adding a raised lift at the end of her words. Questioning. Asking.

Takemura only nodded, returning his grip around her lower back. The position made it nearly impossible to give anything but deep, shallow thrusts, but V was not complaining. The quickened pace was giving her the friction she needed, the press of his pelvis against her clit, the edge of his head sometimes finding that spot deeper in that sent sparks through her body.

It gave her more than her own pleasure too. It was giving her his. He had been so quiet, purposeful and diligent.. and now his brow furrowed and his breath came sharper. His skin flushed hot and red where he was organic and untouched by chrome or cyberware. V bore down around him, clutching at his shaft when he pulled back and grinned when his hips suddenly snapped back forward. A rough groan slipped from his lips, a curse following when she rolled her hips forward and began to rather enthusiastically fuck him back.

He wasn’t shocked, but pleasantly surprised would have been an accurate term. As a man who lived to serve, it only made sense he wouldn't expect to receive.

“Pull me up.” 

V demanded, rising up on her forearms and then her hands until Takemura had no choice but to slip his hold up higher along her back and pull her up, sitting into his lap.

V grinned wickedly and saw the exact moment Takemura realized his mistake.

She rose her hips and thrust down, hands running from his chest up his neck and then back down to grip hard to his shoulders as she rode him.

“Oh... fuck—“

And that was the only word V managed to make sense of before Takemura slurred into half incomprehensible Japanese. She didn’t need her cyberware to translate that.

One solid push was all it took to have him flat on his back, her hands running up and down his chest as she took control.

He hissed once, grabbing hard at her thigh to move it away from his wound, but after that? The only word she understood from him beneath the rest was yes.

When she came, it tightened in her core, holding steady and constant and lingering right at the edge for long enough that when her body finally burst into spasms, she cried out half in shock of it.

The sound keened to a low whine as V rode out the waves, rocking her hips gently as the initial exhilaration faded to pleasant fading throbs. Takemura’s hands had slid down to her hips, squeezing and rubbing for the sheer pleasure of touching. He was far away again, but somehow, V knew that it was less to do with her and more to do with the fact he remained hard inside her.

“... you didn’t—?” V started to say, hips slowing, but Takemura’s grip tightened and he urged her on.

“Keep doing that.” 

So she did. Slowly moving and becoming intensely aware of how he felt wrapped up and pressing inside her walls. His eyes shut, his lips parting and V couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss him, the movement as languid and lazy as her hips.

Takemura did not tense like she did, but instead every muscle went soft and lax beneath her. A quiet moan, half gasped out was her only warning before she carefully slipped off of him and he came, slow spurts spilling across his skin.

It was less like he had lost control rather than he’d allowed it to slip, but V had dismissed the thoughts, trying not to overthink it. Right now, she was busy making work of cleaning him up, licking a trail along his pelvis and enjoying the way the muscles played beneath her touch.

Ticklish, her thoughts reminded. Takemura rubbed a hand over his eyes, as if waking, alertness coming back into his expression, but… something still softened its edges. Made him more of himself but also less— or maybe it was just the side of him V had not yet seen.

She stretched, rolling off to lay alongside him like a cat, one leg still thrown over his as she propped up her chin on the heel of her hand.

“So… I don’t know if maybe there was some kinda life debt you mighta been thinkin’ bout giving me for saving your ass but uh— consider it paid.”

Takemura, to his credit, laughed.

“You realize, that is like saying my life is worth—“

“Oh, I know what I’m saying.”

“I do not know whether to be insulted or flattered.”

“Just be both and cover all the bases.” V said, leaning down to press several kisses along his jaw, indulgent and very appreciative.

She expected him to disparage the attention now that their purpose was completed, but while he did turn and shy away from the kisses, he also drew his arm up to wrap around her and hold her in a loose grip.

“Someone needs to keep watch.” Takemura said, his voice begrudging the very words.

“I’ll do it. Arasaka didn’t fuck me up near as bad as ya.”

He scoffed.

“You fell three floors, V.”

“First of all, it was two.”

“And second?”

She kissed him, thoroughly obliterating any desire he might have had to protest as he turned to bare her down into the mattress.

“Very persuasive.” He said against her lips, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. Despite that he let her go, grimacing when he noticed they would need to redo his bandages after the mess he made.

V got up from bed, finding her discarded jeans and tank top and tugging them on, delighting in the way her body ached just slightly still.

Spontaneous we-might-not-live-through-the-night sex clearly was the pick-me up she needed. Takemura was the opposite though, seeming sluggish and sated, laying still upon his back, his chest rising and falling with lingering speed.

Something like concern warmed through her and V returned to sit on the edge of the bed, carefully stroking the back of her knuckles over his cheek and feeling the scrape of his beard against her skin. He silently looked up at her.

“You really doin’ okay?”

“Three times in one day…” Takemura said with a short mirthless laugh.

“Three?”

“You’ve asked me three times if I am okay. I ...can not recall the last time anyone has asked me such a thing.”

Takemura gingerly rose only to pull his trousers back on, getting back into bed without bothering with the fastens or his belt. 

V didn’t even know what to say to that revelation, feeling her heart clench as she sat, waiting as Takemura settled back against a stack of pillows and closed his eyes.

“If someone arrives to kill us, wake me.”

“You got it, Goro.” V said, forcing humor into her voice as she stood only to retrieve her shotgun and then sat again at the edge of bed, muzzle poised towards the door.

Yeah she’d wake him alright, by killing whatever fucker dared come through the door for him.

Christ, V.

Johnny. His voice tinged with disapproval in her mind, the emotion almost acidic on her tongue.

Worry about us first. Though if you do manage to somehow live through this night, that’s gonna be a conversation I’d rather you take a blocker and sign me the fuck out for.

V responded with confusion, a mental indication of Whaddya mean?

The shit that Corpo just laid on you? That wasn’t just some casual fuck. As the minstrels say, he was makin’ love to you.

V audibly choked.

“V?” Takemura asked, a unspoken question lingering over her name. She shook her head without turning around.

“S’fine. Cough.”

And you were to him. Hormones all over the fuckin’ place. Nauseating.

I was not.

Don’t bullshit me, V. I can feel your emotions get all mushy every time you look at him. Now it’s just gonna get worse.

V tried to ignore him, making a pointed effort of blocking out his words with a stream of thoughts. Song lyrics, scenes from an old Bushido flick, the way Takemura looked at her with such open desire and sheer wanting when he had settled inside of her, warped up in the heat of her and her in him—

Fuck.

Yep. Told ya.

Headlights cut through the dark, shining between the blinds of the motel room as a car slowly edged across the parking lot. V’s grip tightened on her weapon.

There were more pressing dangers to worry about now, but somehow they felt smaller… when her thoughts would scatter into panic, rapid and heated, inevitably every single one landed back on the one thing that gave her comfort— Takemura was here with her. He was alive and here with her.

But that was some shit to sort out another day.