#i'm going to try and return from the dead

[lanaroff]

Unwanted- Part 3

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/N is an enhanced SHIELD agent who is forced to work with the Avengers. What happens when they discover that she’s not alone?

A/N: Sooo I´m back. After a year I came back with the next parto. Sorry for taking so so long. Hope you like it!!!

The flight back home was one big awkward silence, where no single team member dare to asked what had happened. Not only the mission had failed, but also two members of the team were missing, if not dead. Being that the last thing that they saw was you and Wanda standing on a rooftop that seconds later became ashes.

"Can someone explain me what the fuck just happened?" Tony finally broke the silence. But no one said anything, no one had a complete answer to explain the events that ended with the missing girls. "Rogers?"

"Um... After Sam gave us Rumblow's location Y/N went after him. And I order Wanda to follow her to the rooftop as backup. If it is anyone's fault is mine. It should have been me out there." Steve answered in a apologetic way.

"What was she doing there on the first place?" Tony asked again. But this time Steve didn't answer as he didn't know.

The room once again fell into silence. Tony was angry with the outcome of the mission.  As he should be, at the end it was his reputation on the line.

"Tony, Y/N is a really competent agent. I'm sure they are fine, all we can do is wait. Going back there is only going to make things worse." Natasha said trying to defend her friend. She was well aware of Y/N's reputation of being reckless regarding Hydra.

"12 hours. I'm giving them 12 hours and after that we are going after them." Tony said ending the conversation and leaving the room.

The truth was that Natasha wasn't fully sure if her friends were alive. She knew that both Wanda and Y/N we're powerful agents, but she also knew that Y/N had a tendency to act impulsively. So all she could do was hope that the girls were somewhere safe waiting to return home.

And they were. 4 hours had went by since the duo had settled into an abandoned house. Wanda was next to the fireplace, which Y/N turned on for her so she wouldn't be cold, and the girl would close her eyes resting next to the heat of the fire. Y/N, on the other hand, was sitting next to a window across the room. Wishing that if she stared long enough at the rain it would stop.

"You are going to catch a cold. You can sit with me if you want." Wanda suggested trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I'm good here." She replied quickly. However, she immediately felt guilty for her harsh behavior as Wanda was only trying to be nice."Um Venom... it doesn't like fire" Y/N continued.

While looking from across the room, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about Y/N. How she seemed so strong but yet so broken. She knew that Y/N wasn't a person that would open to others easily. Let alone talk to a stranger about herself. But she thought that it was worth the shot since none of them had nothing better to do.

"Can I ask you a question Y/N?" She continued.

"Sure. I won't guarantee you an answer tho." Y/N replied. She could have perfectly said no. But deep down she was curious as for what Wanda wanted to know.

"Why do you want to kill Rumblow so bad? What did he do to you?" Wanda asked the girl.

"He's a traitor." She replied slowly letting herself think about her feelings. "Um... I met him when I first got to SHIELD. I guess that over the years I started to trust him. Turns out he was lying the hole time."

"Is that why you find so difficult to trust people?" Wanda asked again.

"I trust people. Just not you guys."

"Right... Do you trust Nat?" The witch asked again making Y/N nervous.

"Ye-No... Just forget about it. I don't even know why I'm talking to you about it." The truth was that that Y/N didn't knew If she trusted the spy. Sure, they were friends, weren't they? But she couldn't let Wanda know that. She wasn't going to talk about feeling with a stranger.

Y/N started to grew impatient with Wanda's questions. So she did the thing that she did best. Pretend that nothing had happened. She stood up and stared to walk towards the injured girl. She placed her left hand on Wanda's lap, and with the other one she stared to unwrap the wound to check it.

"It hurts a little less, but I don't think I can walk." Wanda said as she saw Y/N eyes staring at the open leg. 

Wanda studied every interaction that the girl made. To her, Y/N was a face with a question mark on it, she couldn't quite understand her actions nor her decisions. Every time she looked at Y/N she was able to see the girl's internal fight. Between having to be strong, and being fragile, and to the girl's fortune her eyes didn't lied.

"You are staring. Stop it, It's creepy." Y/N told Wanda feeling her eyes placed on her as she looked at the wound.

"Can I see it?" She asked. However, all she got on return was a confused look on Y/N face. "Venom- Can I see Venom?"

Y/N locked her eyes on Wanda's. And for a few seconds that was all they did. Y/N wanted to know the girl's intention, she couldn't understand why the redhead would want to do such thing. While Wanda just sat there waiting for an answer.

However, all the answered that she got from Y/N was a sight. The girl moved a few steps away from Wanda and closed her eyes.

"If you hurt her I swear to god that I will kill you." She said before letting the creature out. Venom's head emerged from behind the girl's body leaving a thin thread of materia connecting the both of them.

Wanda stood there patiently waiting for the girl. She was a little bit scared and anxious, but mostly curious to meet the creature. Her eyes features every detail of Venom. Sure, she had met the alien before, but this time Wanda didn't see it as a threat.

"I'm Wanda Maximoff, nice to finally meet you." She said. Y/N's eyes traveled from Venom to Wanda. She found hard to believe that someone would see the alien inside of her as something worth meeting. But she couldn't denied that Wanda's small action made her feel as she wasn't the monster that she thought she was. Maybe she was worth caring. Maybe there was someone who was willing to love her despite having Venom. But her thoughts were cut off by the creature's voice.

"Wanda... We are Venom" It replied. Venom was curious. Why the woman in front of it wasn't terrified? Why wasn't she running already? So it moved with precaution around the girl.

"Hi Venom, May I touch you?" She asked again. This time Y/N was not entirely sure if it was a good idea. No one before had dare to talk to the creature let alone touch it.

"I don't know Wanda. I don't think that Venom would lik..." And her words were cut off again, by the events happening right in front of her. With one hand touching Venom, Wanda let a small grin came out of her.

Suddenly, the alien's and Wanda's interaction were interrupted by the sound of a car getting closer. Y/N quickly made her way to the closet window and, as she feared, they had been found by Hydra.

"We need to leave now." She whispered. Wanda immediately tried to get up, but due to her wounds, she tripped. "Yeah, it's clear that you can't walk"

"Just leave me here. I can protect myself. You leave" Wanda said.

"Do you really think that I'm going to leave you here?" She rhetorically asked de redhead. In a matter of seconds Y/N had carried Wanda outside of the abandoned house. And with her still in her arms, she begin to walk through the woods.

"Do you at least know were you going?" Wanda complained.

"No." Y/N harshly replied.

Both girls made their way to a small town. However, before entering the area, gently, Y/N placed Wanda next to a tree. She checked the girl's leg, and without saying anything she begin to walk towards the town.

"Where are you going?" Wanda asked. She knew that Y/N would not leave without her. However, she didn't want to be left alone.

"I'm going to get a car." She replied. Y/N could see Wanda's worrying in eyes. "I will come back. I promise."

And without further ado, she made her way to the nearest gas station. Right before setting foot inside the market, she gazed a small car parked right next to the building. Y/N walked to the nearest fridge and picked a bottle of water. She placed it on the counter, and waited for the man to tell her it's price.

"Would be 85 cents, anything else?" The man asked.

"Yeah, do you happen to know were the closest route to go to NY is?" She replied. She immediately realized that the employee was starring at her shirt covered in Wanda's blood. "Uhm... My wife and I, we were hiking and she tripped. I would love to take her to the hospital."

"Oh right... Uhm, take the rout that goes south. Please take the bottle, it's on me." He said. The truth was that Y/N had no money to pay the guy. So, with a small grin she left the place. Ones outside, she broke the car's window and ripped some wires to turn on the engine.

"Who's car is that?" Wanda asked as she saw Y/N pulling down next to her.

"Does it matter?" She said and carried Wanda to the car. "Here, I got you a bottle of water in case you were thirsty."

"Thanks." She replied with a smile.

Hours had passed since they had abandoned the town. Once Y/N pulled the car down next to the compound she made her way to Wanda's door, who was fast asleep. For a moment all that the girl did was look at the redhead sleep. The one thing that she feared was happening, and she couldn't stop it. She had begin to like Wanda's company.

Without waking her up she carried Wanda inside the compound. However, Tony's shouting did interrupted Wanda's sleeping "Where were you two? Do you have any idea how worried we were Y/N?

"No, and I don't care. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take Wanda to the medby." She said and walked her way to the room, where she placed Wanda on a stretcher.

The rest of the team followed the pair in search for answers. Non of them knew why Wanda was injured. Or why Y/N had abandoned her position previously on the mission.

"Let me check on that" Bruce said as he walked next to Wanda.

"So you are not going to say anything?" Tony asked again stopping Y/N from leaving the room.

"What is left to say? The mission failed, and Wanda is alive." She said with a cocky grin.

"Why were you after Rumblow on the first place? That was not the mission." He asked again.

"No Stark, that was not you mission. It surely was mine." She said making Tony anger grew inside of him.

"You are going to get someone kill, or worse, yourself."

"Do you really think that I care If one of you die? Or If I die? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this." And with her last statement Y/N left the room.

The rest of the team shared looks, Tony was angry, while Wanda was worried. Y/N last words were on loop on Wanda's head. Why didn't she care for her life? What was the thing she didn't ask for? Wanda was determined to find out why the agent was so cold and distant.

[hyperions-light]

Good riddance to that mess: Thank the Dread Wolf we’re done with the Mage-Templar conflict

(because magic in Thedas is more interesting this way)

Okay the people who love conflict have won and I am going to talk about this now lol

I've decided to stick within the framework of the world/story for this particular post, because I think you could talk about the issues with the mages/templars in connection with how they relate to real-life groups for an entire essay AT LEAST, and I want to focus on magic here, so I don't think it's that germane to the discussion. If you all want to talk about that later, I can put it on the pile.

It turns out that Jenny Nicholson was 100% right about the efficacy of numbered lists on the internet, so this essay will be hybridized into a list. Here are the reasons I'm glad the mage-templar conflict is gone and hope it never returns:

It limits storytelling avenues I understand how they arrived at this dichotomy as the logical extrapolation of a minority of people in Thedas being born with magic BUT it's very boring and it doesn't facilitate interesting stories. If you have this strict system and hierarchy that means that every mage has to live in the tower or they're a) a criminal or b) Dalish, that seriously limits the kind of characters you can make who are mages, which is dull as both a player and a writer.

Trying to make it nuanced is difficult Attempting to show that everyone has a point in a situation is difficult when one group has absolute power over the other and can kill them whenever they feel like it. Also, with the abuses the Templars regularly perpetuate against the mages established in DAO and DA2 any attempted justification reads as the story sanctioning an oppressive force. If they try to demonstrate the danger of magic, they end up with the 10,000 blood mage problem from DA2. It's a hard thing to do within the framework they set up, but they also haven't been particularly successful with it, imo, so abandoning it is a better choice.

It's the most reductive version of the conflict Reducing the entire discussion to whether magic is good or evil, whether mages should be free or confined is really boring. It's a false dichotomy that promotes extremism in characters on either side of the conflict who never interact with one another. "Is magic bad?" is a useless and uninteresting question. Who cares? What does it do?; Where did it come from?; What different ways can you use it? are all better questions.

Makes it difficult for the audience to learn more about magic If the only characters the audience ever meets are people who come from the Circle, Dalish mages, and apostates, the amount they're going to learn about different perspectives on magic and its various uses is limited. Part of the reason Jaws of Hakkon was such an interesting DLC for DAI is because the Avvar have a completely different philosophy about magic and spirits. It was refreshing after several games of having the same ideas about magic shoved down our throats to hear someone give a different perspective and ACTUALLY NEW information. Everything I needed to know about the mage-templar conflict, I already knew by the end of DAO, but I had to sit through two more entire games while people discussed it at length.

Magic in the North is fascinating Now that we're finally rid of that conflict, look how many different kinds of magic we get to see in DATV! We get to meet a Rivaini Seer, a Mortalitasi (who can use magic to TALK TO REAL DEAD PEOPLE!!!), a non-Altus mage from the Tevinter Imperium; we get to see magic as it was utilized by the ancient elves and how it interfaces with technology. We got DWARF MAGIC!! Finally, an answer to what Sandal was doing! We found out you can use it to turn yourself into a LICH!!! All of that stuff is so cool, and we had never encountered it before this game! It brings up so many new questions about the nature of the Fade, the source of magic itself, the strength of magic in Thedas relative to other places in the world. And NONE of it could be discussed in the South because they are too busy arguing about fucking towers!!!

tl;dr: The mage-templar conflict was a boring and reductive lens through which to view magic in the DA universe, I'm glad it's gone, I hope they continue what they started in DATV and explore different ways magic can be used in the future.

[olgiisworld]

The interview // Choi Seungcheol

summary; you and Seungcheol have been a public couple on the media, both of you big artists, him being the leader of the group named Seventeen. Things have been a little rough lately due to lack of communication. You're invited to talk on a podcast about your recent achievements, but when your personal life is mentioned as a topic, you get bitter, and you don't manage to hide it. But how about the consequences?

Y/n x Seungcheol of Seventeen, genre: angst, frustration and unfairness with a hint of fluff in the end.

Word Count; 4,476 (oopsie)

Warnings; swearing

note; it took me months to finish this (mostly because of loss of inspiration, so you might notice inconsistency), but it's nothing special. Although you might like it :) I'd love to see comments! thank you for your support on my Beomgyu one-shot <3 smoochies ♡

it's been a while i've felt like shit. it's been a while i've felt more welcome to talk to the wall than talking to Seungcheol.

talking to Seungcheol seemed so hard for some reason. all we've been doing is fighting or ignoring each other. and that would be okay, if we didn't have each other's house keys.

it is hard to maintain a relationship that happened to go public, when none of you planned it. both me and Seungcheol being public figures really sat bad, especially with his constant need of privacy.

but it is hard. we can't just not leave the house.

that's mostly the reason we've been fighting.

everyday was a circle.

i return back to his apartment, where we had a silent agreement to meet everyday after work. my body and mind exhausted from all the work i've put in the studio. frustration seeping through my body, because of the disagreements i've had with the rest of my colleagues. concern, pain, fatigue, everything coming together, creating this unpleasant expression on my face. i know i seem cold.

but he just sits there. slumped on his couch. eyes fixed on the familiar black box. he cares enough to say "hey, how's work?", but not enough to ask about how I am. so i just shrug my shoulders and walk past him.

that's my life with my 'oh-so-wanted' boyfriend.

i'm a starved woman.

starved from love, from affection, from tenderness, from touch.

just touch.

his touch.

he hasn't touched me in god knows how long. all i get are dead kisses.

the repetition of each day made me feel angry, frustrated, pained, disappointed. made me feel like i was not worthy of him.

and the worst thing is that i cannot communicate my thoughts with the person i love.

he seems so stressed with his upcoming tour, that giving him one more reason to yell will only break him.

so i suffered in silence.

last week's fight was interesting.

a photo of us shopping together started making its way around social media. Seungcheol hated social media. and we both looked quite miserable in the photos, but i don't know if he noticed.

he yelled at me for not being careful enough.

apparently, i was the reason they saw us and they took those fucking pictures. like i enjoy being on strangers' camera rolls.

and i yelled back.

and we fought.

again.

damn it.

i cried so hard and he didn't even try to comfort me.

he didn't even touch me.

he didn't.

he didn't try to reach out.

he wouldn't even touch my hand by mistake.

i was so fed up.

so fed up of not feeling desired by the only person i loved..

the week passed, the same circle repeating itself.

i started going back to my house after work. Seungcheol didn't even try to ask why. he only said "i get that you might need space".

I am the one who needs the space?

i didn't even argue back. i knew where this was going and i felt like i was finally ready.

today, i had an interview.

nothing huge, just a small podcast. friendly podcast.

i wore comfortable clothes and hid my fatigue behind foundation and blush. i was okay with pretending like everything was fine.

it only broke my heart that people assumed "i am the happiest i've ever been". because people can only make assumptions. people only see the pictures. people only see the smiles, the kisses. or even the fatigue. but, "oh, everything is okay, she's got her man".

but what about Seuncheol?

people saw that he was stressed. people saw that he's probably not happy. people really had the audacity to say "i'm not good enough for him"!

like, fuck they know? they know nothing

and he never said anything. he never addressed those comments.

why?

because he believes that "what people say are bullshit"

but it sounded more like i'm not worth a small clarification.

i grabbed my keys and phone, closed my door and headed to the podcast set up.

everything was really friendly.

Alex, a familiar face of mine, would host the show.

i've happened to meet her before, at after-parties and gatherings, so we had talked before. everything was comfortable.

the podcast started shortly after and the talk was great. we also had a drink and a girls' talk that actually helped me take my mind off of my stress.

at one point, she turned to look at me when i sipped a little of my drink.

"so, um, i just.. i wanted to ask a few things, i know you don't really talk about your personal life, and that's why the questions are quite.. generic? you know.. of course, you can tell me to stop"

i felt some concern wash over me, as to what the consequences of this conversation could be. but i shrugged it off with a soft chuckle as i fixed my posture, leaning a little closer to the microphone.

"no, don't worry about it, shoot"

she smiled and read the notes of her phone, taking a quick sip of her drink as well.

''so, what is it like to be in a relationship?"

she looked at me with a small smile.

and all i could do was huff, trying to find an adequate answer.

i leaned back to the microphone.

"honestly? really hard"

Alex shot an eyebrow up in surprise.

"really? why, girl? is it hard for two great artists to live up to everyone's expectations?''

she chuckled and i just shook my head in thought.

i tried to put my thoughts in a row. it's hard to express everything i feel to someone after being so.. alone.

but i felt frustrated and fed up at the moment.

i fidgeted a little on my seat.

"i don't know.. it's not like there are no hardships in a relationship anyway.. it's just.. you can't find a way out of a hardship without communication, or respect. or understanding. there are many elements that have to balance out the hardships of a relationship, you know? at least that's how i view it"

i shrugged, my implication clear.

Alex caught my glimpse.

she nodded and looked at her phone shortly.

"that is really interesting, but everything can work out with love and patience"

i nodded, my smile a little bitter

"i guess.. i can't really tell you"

she tried to play it off with a small chuckle and i forced a smile

"i know you guys don't talk about your relationship, and privacy request is respected. but, not even posting moments on social media.. that's amazing. i actually admire that. it shows how strong your bond can be."

i chuckled, bitterness lingering on my laugh.

"not really. i wouldn't mind posting a picture or two. privacy is very much needed, but it's not like we have something to hide, or something to be so private about.. anyway, i really don't think it's that serious. but everyone has their own point of view."

she nodded, not wanting to pry on the matter, since she noticed my uneasiness.

she read of her notes again.

"does he inspire you to write?'

the question felt like a stab to the heart.

i couldn't say 'he used to'

and i couldn't say 'no' either

but i didn't want to lie.

i took a deep breath, trying to collect my words. i leaned on the microphone one more time.

"i don't really get inspired by real people.. mostly fictional characters, fictional situations.. nothing real. i used to find material from real life but.. i guess, my style changed"

i shrugged and forced a chuckle, trying to shake the feeling off.

Alex nodded and put a smile on her face.

"alright then, let's move on.."

i let out a breath i didn't even know i was holding. i took a sip of my drink, feeling quite relieved that we moved on from that topic.

the rest of the podcast went great, but i was tired and i couldn't wait for it to end.

as soon as we were done, i shook hands with Alex, she informed me about the slight editing she wanted to do, she thanked me and i thanked her back. she said that the episode would be out by the end of the week. i smiled and thanked her for having me. and i left.

i returned to my miserable apartment. the silence defeaning.

i hadn't seen Seungcheol in a week, but he didn't really seem to care.

i just left my shoes and coat next to the couch. i had lost my appetite completely.

i sat on the couch and took my phone in my hand.

i checked some of my messages and i saw Seungcheol's name among the notifications.

'Hey, is everything okay'

again.

not how I am. not if I am okay.

he really didn't give a damn about me.

i texted back a 'fine, no worries' and threw my phone at the end of the couch.

i started crying.

the only thing that comforted me was the sound of my own crying.

i hugged my arms around me and fell back on the couch. i was lost. i needed navigation. and he couldn't fucking give it to me.

[...]

Friday.

i headed back to my car after a long exhausting session at the studio. once i fastened my seatbelt, i grabbed my phone to check on some missed calls. a notification came in, saying that my podcast with Alex was out. i smiled excitedly, and turned it on to listen on my way back home. i texted her shortly and i threw my phone next to my driver's seat. i just concentrated on the road, the podcast being a pleasant background sound.

the drive back home was short, sadly. i just picked up my stuff, my phone still playing the podcast, as i walked back to my door.

i walked in, throwing my stuff on the couch, taking off my shoes and running to the kitchen, to grab some water.

when i walked in, i saw Seungcheol leaned against the counter, arms crossed on his chest, expression serious to mad.

my whole face went white when i saw him.

"fuck! you scared me.. what are you doing here?"

i was so shocked he was in my kitchen, probably more than i should, considering that he is my boyfriend.

he took a deep breath before i heard his voice.

"what the fuck? seriously. you're the one who's shocked here."

i looked around, confused by his words. i shrugged my shoulders.

"i guess.. i don't usually find you hiding in my house.. especially after not seeing you for a whole week.."

he scoffed. he didn't leave me any room for reaction.

"and you haven't even tried to reach out for a whole week.. but i guess, that's okay. relationships don't work without communication, like you said."

his words confused me even more.

i realized that what he quoted were my words on Alex's podcast. Now everything made sense.

i walked a little closer.

''are you seriously mad about this bullshit?''

his eyes widened

"bullshit? you say that calling me out is bullshit? telling EVEYONE how you feel, except from me, bullshit?''

my own eyes widened at his words

"what?"

his lips narrowed down, his madness more visible.

"what do you fucking mean with what? you literally let every fucking idiot know what's going on between us!"

he yelled

i looked at him in shock before processing to react with a scoff

"are you serious? what, how? by telling people that i'm having hardships in my relationship?"

he took a step closer

"you could have told me! me! not everyone! making everyone believe that we suffer!"

my head tilted in pure curiosity.

"which.. we don't?''

i asked, so simply.

he looked at me, his fingers running through his hair.

"that's not the point, the point is that you let everyone-"

i couldn't bear to listen so i yelled back

"i thought you didn't give a shit about what everyone thinks! you're such a hypocrite!"

he looked at me in shock

his eyes filled with disappointment.

"you literally implied that i don't love you."

my own eyes filled with anger and hurt.

"what do you fucking mean? you mean to tell me that i'm wrong? that everything is fine? that we don't fight every single time we try to talk? that we communicate just perfectly? that you don't ignore me? that you don't act like i am a stranger? no, i'm sorry, my mistake. you would touch a stranger, even if it was a fucking accident!"

he stayed there, in front of me, his face emotionless. he just heard what i said. or dogded my words, either way, he reacted the same.

"you implied that i don't fucking love you."

at this point, i felt helpless. fed up. rock-bottom. i just shook my head and let my tears slip from my eyes.

"Seungcheol, you don't love me. and i don't care. i have accepted it."

he cracked a hint of emotion, as he lightly flinched

"what are you even saying?"

i wiped my tears quickly.

"that you're a coward. that's what i'm saying."

he took a step closer, tilting his head confused.

"how am I a coward? you're the one who went and told everyone what we're going through! and you didn't even bother to tell ME something!"

i couldn't listen, i couldn't just stand there and listen.

I let out a cynical chuckle.

"and I thought you didn't even bother to watch my interviews.. guess i'm wrong"

I wiped my tears.

he seemed even more mad.

"of course I watch your stuff, but even if I didn't want to, everyone has been sending me this stupid podcast since it came out! everyone found a chance to make fun of me!"

i replied with the same anger.

"well, sorry, but you had to take a taste of your own medicine! do you even know what people say about us online?! do you? do you know what it's like to read that I'm not good enough for you, that I don't deserve you? do you even know how everyone fucking praises you, but all of them downgrade me? do you, Seungcheol? I've been living like this for the past 1 year and I never, ever complained to you about it. Because you always kept saying that YOU don't give a fuck about what people say! so fuck you, Cheol!"

my tears were running like a river at this point, but the mad expression on his face was driving me insane. his eyebrows relaxed a bit.

I made a move to leave, not wanting to have another fight. but, something I wouldn't expect, he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

i pulled my hand away.

"no! don't you fucking dare touch me now! I've had enough! enough! you hear me? you're so cheap! you're embarrassed that everyone knows about your relationship not working, but you don't even care enough to fix this mess! fucking coward.."

he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he grabbed my wrist again.

he pulled me closer.

"I'm not a coward! I'm just.. stressed! really fucking stressed! and I know that you don't care-"

I stopped him.

"i don't care? I don't care?! are you stupid?!"

he tightened his grip on my wrist.

"how do you care?! you care and you don't even call me for a week? you care, but you don't tell me what's bothering you? instead, you go and talk about our problems in a podcast?"

i took a deep breath and looked at him, trying to remain calm.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

he swallowed down my words.

"what the fuck, y/n?"

i let out a deep breath.

i was on the verge of a mental breakdown, feeling like this conversation is the repetition of pointless yelling and arguments that were better understood by a wall.

i just shook my head, my expression full of disappointment.

"Seungcheol, i can't do this anymore."

his expression softened and he let go of my wrist, pulling his own hand back hesitantly.

his voice almost scared.

"what do you mean?"

i sighed softly, not able to hold back anymore. it was now or never. and i, unlike him, was not a coward. it was time to finally do it.

"it's not working... it can't.. it can't work... between us.."

my expectations were simple. him getting sad and disappointed or him not even caring enough to have a reaction. i surely not expected him to get mad at me, like he did.

"and you call me a coward?"

i looked at him confused. i didn't even find the chance to talk before he interrupted me.

"you're telling me that it's easier to talk to a wall, you go all out about me in a podcast, you don't text, you don't call, you don't care. and now you're breaking up with me? so, you actually don't love me."

i heard his words carefully before rolling my eyes in frustration, my reaction getting him more mad and he threw his hands in the air.

"love is not enough to hold a whole relationship up, okay-"

he yelled back, interrupting me.

"bullshit! and you know it! i love you, and i don't care if you can't see it, i care that i feel it though!"

my eyes widened slightly in shock but i managed to yell back.

"why don't you touch me?! why do you ignore me?! what have i done to you, how can you say that you love me?!"

he looked at me, his eyes mirroring the same frustration as mine did. but there was something else. the frustration was not towards me, it was towards himself.

"I don't know! i don't know! i don't know..."

his voice softened at the last 'i don't know', and i remained silent since he seemed to have a lot more to say. he let out a small sigh.

"I've been really really really stressed. really stressed. we're on the verge of canceling a world tour, our manager keeps telling us that he wants to quit, and we've lost a lot of money because of a merch company that happened to be frauds."

my mouth opened in shock at his confession.

Seungcheol never told me about any of these.

i was trying to find a reaction but i couldn't find it. so he talked instead.

"and you breaking up with me is the cherry on top. i know that i can't defend myself, and i won't sound pathetic enough to beg you to stay. if you want to leave me, it's fine. for you. i can't tie you down anyway."

his voice came out small, weak, pathetic, like he was scared to be perceived.

i managed to get my voice out.

"why didn't you say anything?"

he looked into my eyes, dead serious as he quoted me.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

i clenched my jaw, feeling anger instead of sympathy building up. i hit his chest, without thinking much, but he didn't even flinch. his eyes simply pierced through me.

"you're not capable of even admitting that you need me? really? i hate you!"

i felt fed up with my own self, pathetic with how miserable i was and felt. i was sad. my whole life was sad. i built a whole career that seemed to be drowning me. and my words didn't even shake his poker face.

tears streamed down my face and i couldn't control my sobs. even if i sounded pathetic, at least i was honest to my feelings.

i knew i was the reason we couldn't communicate now that we found a chance, but i was feeling too depressed to even try it.

there had been many chances in the past, and since nothing worked, this wouldn't work either. i simply cried.

he looked down for a moment, the straight line of his lips unwavering. he took a deep breath, sighing softly through his nose. i put a few strands of my hair behind my ear, while my tears were falling down like a waterfall.

i wiped as many as i could.

i knew that nothing could shake or top the tension my three simple words just created.

or at least that's what i thought, before he grabbed my chin and he kissed me.

my crying eyes opened in shock, his hand holding my lips close as his other arm creeped around me, pulling me into his embrace. the shock wouldn't let me kiss back, and i felt like he used my vulnerability to his advantage.

i felt frustrated, confused, and i pulled my head back since he held me close by my waist, trapping my hands on his chest, the feeling both new and familiar.

"i said i hate you!"

"oh shut up.."

he simply replied before pulling me back into a kiss, a hundred times more passionate than the first one. it was the first time in months that he kissed me with so much emotion. i could feel it. i could feel that he meant it. his other arm wrapped around me as well and he held me close, months after our last hug. and his embrace was so warm and nostalgic. my mind drifted to the memories of our first dates and my lips started moving against his, by instict.

my hands gently tugged on his shirt, the tears in my eyes stopping.

i felt warm.

and i hadn't felt warm like this since forever.

he kissed me with so much meaning and passion, like i would disappear if he'd let go..

after a moment, his lips moved to my jawline, placing gentle kisses along the line of it towards the spot below my ear. he placed soft kisses on my neck and his hands moved up and down my back, touching me gently. re-exploring me.

opening old wounds.

my breath became a little heavier as my mind traveled with his touch. the feeling was so new, yet so familiar to me.

i wasn't sure of what to say, how to talk.

he touched me after god knows how long.

i heard his voice, his breath tingling my neck.

"i'm so stupid.."

he simply said, but i didn't have an answer. not an an argument. he placed soft kisses on my neck, his hands traveling down my body.

"i need you so bad.. i need all of you.. in my life, forever, and right now.."

he whispered, sending chills down my spine. i haven't heard him talk like that, probably never.

"i need you right now, i love you.. i love you so much.."

he kissed my lips, his words felt like heavy prayers.

i looked into his eyes, feeling the vulnerability reaching the ceiling.

he kissed my face gently, placing a strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek.

"you're the only tranquilizer i'll ever need.. i'm so sorry for never seeing it.."

he kissed my lips gently again.

i was so lost that words wouldn't even dare to come out my mouth.

but he didn't expect anything from me. he simply poured his heart out, like he hadn't done in months.

"i've been so stressed out and closed off that i didn't realize what i was doing to the only person that could help me."

his hands explored my body like he was searching for undiscovered spots.

my mouth formed a soft pout, my eyes glistening.

he pressed another soft kiss on my pout.

"baby, i'm sorry. i love you. and i'm a dick that doesn't deserve you. and i know it. i'll respect your choice to leave me."

he pressed a kiss on my cheek like a final goodbye and he softly unwrapped his arms from my body, but my hands grabbed them, almost like an instict, and i wrapped them around me again.

i kissed his lips a little more aggressively than expected by the both of us actually, and my hands cupped his cheeks. he kissed me back, without restraints.

my hands ran through his hair, softly tugging on his locks.

i broke the kiss for a breath and i talked.

"you're so stupid"

he nodded quickly, feeling breathless.

"yes, i am"

i kissed him again and i mumbled against his lips

"so stupid"

he moved his lips with more hunger as he repeated

"so so stupid"

i pulled back briefly, my chest carrying my heavy breaths, my fingers tracing the softness of his hair, his skin, leaving fire to their wake. my eyes locked in his.

i shook my head gently, processing the overwhelming emotion in my heart. i finally managed to express it.

"i love you, but you hurt me so bad"

i saw his face twisting with guilt. i knew he wasn't in a better position with all the stress he carried, but Seungcheol never meant harm. he was always a good guy. that doesn't justify his actions and i knew that, but i felt every crumb of love for him resurrecting, just because of his touch.

he spoke softly, his hands gripping on my skin.

"i'm so sorry.. i'm so so sorry.. i'll respect it if you want to leave me.."

i covered his mouth quickly, his eyes looking into mine with surpise. i sniffled softly before talking.

"i won't leave, you idiot"

he pulled my hand down, his expression more surprised and confused.

"but why?"

i sniffled again, a hint of smile that hasn't appeared on my face in months made its way on my lips.

"because i've made a mental promise to myself. i'm always by your side when you need me."

his expression turned into a melted one, his lips finding my cheek and leaving a couple of soft, loving kisses.

"i love you. i'm so sorry.''

he spoke softly, resting his forehead in mine.

i sighed softly through my nose, my emotions twirling inside of me like crazy.

"i love you too."

i added, and i closed my eyes.

he did the same.

at that time, everything felt a little more sure than usual. i clinged to that hint of hope he expressed through his words of affirmation.

my hand caressed his back softly.

why does every relationship have to go through a rough patch that leaves a part of you dead right after? you know it won't be the same. the only thing that gives you hope is the love inside you that can't die down. and i felt it, in his hug. i felt a little more sure.

[indras-curse]

are you still taking requests? if yes, can you maybe write about obkk with kakashi being obvious about his feelings for obito while obito is oblivious? except he's not really oblivious, he just acts that way bc he doesn't think he deserves kakashi's love?

I'm always taking requests!

Before I share my take on this one, I recommend Fool's Gold by Anjelle with a similar dynamic to your ask!

---

Kakashi cooks him a bento and Obito freaks out.

It's uncommon for Kakashi to feed himself, so wanting to feed someone else is definitely a surprise.

Guy tears up when he hears Kakashi made Obito a bento but when offered the same bento by Obito he vehemently rejects it because that one was obviously specifically made for Obito and he wouldn't dare take someone else's food!

Obito eats the bento. Hidden among the trees.

Kakashi slowly begins increasing the amount of time they spend together. Obito tries to keep it professional, but they end up staring at the sunset, reading books, or sharing meals most of the time.

Asuma asks Obito one day how their dates are going.

Obito denies ever having dates with Kakashi. They are just comrades. Comrades sometimes share meals, they work together so it makes sense they have lunch breakfast, and dinner sometimes together, too!

Kurenai asks about the times they are just browsing through books together and Obito assures her they just go together because they have very different tastes in books so they learn from what the other reads.

Kurenai asks how his reading through Icha Icha Paradise is going, then and Obito plays dead.

Obito tries to distance himself from Kakashi a little and to his surprise Kakashi actually relents and lets him have his alone time.

But, Obito misses him, actually.

He tries not to show it because he thinks if Kakashi spends more time with his own friends and meets other people, he is going to eventually find someone who is good enough for him, not a clan embarrassment like Obito who the Hokage dislikes and came last on every test when he was a child.

One day Obito is just suffering in silence watching the sunset by himself and Guy suddenly appears by his side, saying he noticed Obito has been kinda down, and asks him if everything is okay.

Obito says he is fine, he just has to ignore his feelings.

Guy immediately scolds him for ignoring his feelings! He should be listening to them and honoring their value in his life, Obito has the right to feel however he feels!

Obito confesses he doesn't think he deserves to feel the way he feels and that in any way Kakashi is probably going to be better off with someone else who is actually good for him.

Guy gets upset then because Kakashi is his very best rival and if Kakashi is winning in the love department it would be unfair and against the rules (what rules? Obito thinks) for Obito to sabotage Kakashi's success! How would Guy look? To win over a stolen victory is the worst loss of them all!

He encourages Obito and asks him to please respect Kakashi, he is perfectly capable of making the choice of who he wants or doesn't want in his life.

He also tells Obito they are going to meet to train from now on because his self-esteem is severely lacking, and Guy cannot see that and do nothing.

Obito is dreading the meet and while trying to escape Guy he ends up meeting Kakashi who is surprised to see him but welcomes his company.

They end up in a dango shop having some tea and sweets and they are actually having a very nice conversation, Obito is making googly eyes at Kakashi without noticing when he feels a strong presence at the entrance of the shop and when he turns, Guy is looking straight at him with a big smile, a wink and a thumbs up.

Obito covers his face in embarrassment and doesn't see how Kakashi returns the wink and thumbs up to Guy.

[justalittlelilac]

Hiii! Since you're asking for prompts... how about sick step 2 Qiu with a high fever? Being clingy and accidentally confessing their love for the MC? 🥺

This is so cute, I'm going to lose my mind.

Caring for a prickly, clingy Qiu Lin

Barely revised and edited. If you see mistakes, no you didn't <3

It wasn’t uncommon for Qiu to not answer when you knocked on their bedroom door, but this was concerning. You shifted the food tray in your hands, trying not to spill the steaming chicken noodle soup that Mrs. Lin had carefully prepared. The familiar smell of ginger filled the hallway, reminding you of all the times you'd eaten dinner at their house.

Silence was still your only greeting from behind the barrier separating you and your friend.

“Qiu? It’s me. Your mom sent me up with some food and medicine for you. Can I come in?” You asked, concern lacing your words. You pressed your ear against the cool wood of the door, straining to hear any sign of life within.

There was a beat of quiet, but from the other side you heard shuffling, something toppling with a hollow thud, and the distinct sound of papers and pens falling to the wood floor. Qiu’s voice reached you, except it sounded more like a muffled groan. You took that as enough acknowledgment to breach the quarantine zone.

Qiu’s room was usually messy, but that could be an understatement compared to the scene you were met with now. Beyond the typical scattered clothes and notes, tissues covered every surface like confetti after a party. Wrappers from various types of snacks and cough drops, and the occasional water bottle were like little islands everywhere.

Extra pillows and blankets were strewn about the floor as if Qiu had rotated between their bed and the cooler surface of the hardwood. Your eyes traced a path to their mattress, which housed a rather miserable looking lump. The top of Qiu’s head was the only thing visible from the blankets.

Approaching slowly, you placed the food tray down on their night stand, nearly knocking off half empty water bottles and their journal. Qiu was turned away from you on their side, eyes closed, cheeks red, and their dark hair loose around their face.

"I'm dead. Go away," they grumbled softly. Their form remained turned away from you.

"That's weird. Dead people don't talk," you quipped, making yourself comfortable on the edge of the mattress. Qiu's face didn't change, not even an eyebrow twitch to indicate they heard you. "I really don't want to bury you," you added when they didn't respond, clearly taking your point into consideration.

After a moment, you shrugged your shoulders and rose, giving a dramatic sigh. "Alright, I guess I'll go get the shovel. I was really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this." You turned to head to the door, intending to just venture downstairs to let Mrs. Lin know you had made the successful delivery.

You hadn't taken three steps before Qiu Lin's head popped up, their hair sticking out every which way and glassy eyed.

"Wait," they croaked. You turned back, trying not to smirk as they avoided your eyes. "I may not be dead, but I am definitely dying," they declared, then sneezed into their elbow as if to prove their point. They flopped back onto the bed like a deflated balloon.

"Ew," you responded with another laugh, returning to your previous sitting position. With a sniffle, they stretched their arm, fumbling around on their night stand, and nearly landing their digits in the bowl of soup. You acted fast, reaching over to supply a clean tissue to their hand. Their tired eyes met yours with a small, grateful smile.

"Thanks," they said, before blowing their nose like trumpet. "What are you doing here anyway?" They blinked at you like they'd completely forgotten about the tray of food right next to them.

"You were dead, remember? Your mom let me in because she knows you'd want someone to mourn you properly."

Qiu rolled their eyes, but their smile stuck around. "She probably would rather have you around anyway." They pushed themselves up against their pillows, which took way more effort than it should have.

"Maybe, but I think she'd miss her only child," you assured optimistically, poking them in the leg. They winced, and you immediately felt bad. "And I would too," you added quickly.

Qiu's cheeks grew redder, though with their fever it was hard to tell if you'd actually made them blush.

"I have been sick for years," they insisted, but their tone was a little lighter than their previous attempts to convince you of their demise.

"You're so dramatic. Here, eat and take your medicine. I command it." You placed the tray in their lap like a stern head nurse. They blinked down at the contents, not realizing it was there until now.

"Chicken noodle soup?" was all they asked, eyes shifting from the steaming bowl of broth, noodles, and veggies to your face.

"Your mom said it's your favorite," you shrugged, watching their expression carefully. They didn't react any further than that, and picked up the spoon to begin eating.

The room grew quiet aside for the occasional slurp, but it was a comfortable kind of quiet, the kind that happens when you've known someone long enough that you don't need to fill every silence.

When they finished, Qiu wiped their mouth with their sleeve, then noticed the napkin on the tray and gave you a sheepish look. You just shook your head and handed them their water bottle and the medicine. Once they'd taken everything, you helped move the tray away.

Qiu shuffled in the bed, sinking back down into the blankets. You assumed that was your cue to leave and stood to do so. Subtly, you felt a tug on your pant leg. Turning to look down, you found Qiu's fingers pinching the fabric. Their eyes were closed, but where their face should have been relaxed, ready for rest, was the furrowed brow of confliction.

"I don't want you to go, but I don't want you to get sick too," they muttered into their blanket.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You couldn't help grinning. Even sick, Qiu was too fun to tease. Their brows furrowed even harder and the corners of their lips pulled down slightly, as if the pain of repeating themselves was greater than the fever ache.

"I said, I don't want you to go, but I don't want you to get sick," they grumbled out, just slightly clearer than before.

Oh.

You had half expected them to ignore you in favor for not having to repeat themselves. Qiu's eyes opened, and they peered up at you expectantly. It took you a moment to realize you needed to respond.

"Oh, well, I guess I can stay for a little while." You tried to play it cool, but it was hard to ignore the feeling in your chest, a mix of flattery and the excitement that came with having a crush.

"Besides, I have an immune system of steel. I'm pretty sure I have ancestors that were impervious to the black plague or something," you added casually as you sat back down.

You were trying to keep the mood light, remembering how your mom would say that laughter is the best medicine. It was also to reassure Qiu that if they wanted you here, you would stay, sickness or not.

It may not have cured them immediately, but you did catch their smile as they scooched over to give you more room. Their bed wasn't huge, but it was big enough that you could fit next to them with while they propped themselves up again.

There was a beat of silence as the both of you were not quite sure where to go from there, but then Qiu Lin broke the pause.

"Sorry," was all they said. Their eyes darted to your face, and then back down to their lap. "About the whole thing," they tacked on after a pause.

"What?" You asked with your head cocked in confusion. Qiu rolled their lips into their mouth, you could feel the heat radiating off them. Hopefully the fever medicine would kick in soon.

"I just don't want you to be bored," they explained, looking at you with an expression that seemed to be asking more than their words were saying.

"Qiu, you are literally my favorite person to be around, you know that," you said it so simply, like it was a universal fact. "I do have my phone though. We can watch videos or something." You reached into your pocket to pull out your mobile device and wave it subtly.

The tension in their shoulders loosened and they nodded at your suggestion. Qiu was a bit slow, but they eventually settled against you. Their body was burning up against your skin, but you didn't mind. You could handle it.

You pulled up YouTube and clicked on a video you'd watched recently. After a while, Qiu's head dropped onto your shoulder, their breathing getting slower and steadier. When you glanced down, their eyes were closed, face finally relaxed instead of scrunched up in misery.

They let out a content sigh, snuggling closer like your mere presence was the cause of comfort and not the ibuprofen they'd taken.

"Your my favorite person too...you're always there for me...that's why I love you," Qiu murmured so softly, so gently, that it came out like they were expressing it more to themselves than to you. As if they had intended it to be said in their fevered mind than out loud.

If the sound of your video hadn't been playing, one would be able to hear a pin drop. That would be due to your halted breath. Your wide eyes lingered on their relaxed, sleeping face.

"I love you too, Qiu," you whispered the words back to them. They didn't respond. Sleep had claimed them once more. Your attention turned back to the video, dissecting what hat just transpired.

Eventually, you did leave Qiu and the Lin residence when you were sure your friend was deep in sleep. Your thoughts were scattered, unsure if Qiu's words were that of a friend or more.

But you didn't get a chance to bring it up, because two days later, the tables turned completely. You and Qiu had switched places as the patient and caregiver.

You were convinced your friend must have had the plague with how bad you were feeling. They called you dramatic in return.

"Maybe it's not the plague, maybe it's a different disease," you mumbled incoherently into your pillow. You were sweating like no tomorrow and the only reason your face was pressed to the soft surface was because it was cooler than the air around you. "Now I'm the one who is going to die and it's going to be all your fault Qiu Lin," you groaned.

Qiu laughed, crawling onto your bed to sit beside you, a mirror image from when they were sick.

"You can't die. If you do, how will I tell you 'I love you more' when you say 'I love you too'?"

You turned your face to theirs, the heat rising in your cheeks was absolutely definitely from the fever, and not from what Qiu had just said. They were giving you that soft lopsided smile they always did as they brushed a piece of hair from your sweat drenched forehead.

"Okay." It was all you could respond for the moment. "I won't die then."

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 59 Pain Posting

Here we go, dear void. What fresh hell awaits our MC this week? We are back to setting up for the next big story moment, for one, so there's lots to speculate over before waiting to see how it all plays out. Oh, and suffering of course. There's plenty of that for almost everyone.

Bad TL of editor's notes and the colour page (second editor's note could technically be spoilers I guess):

First page: 慘状を前に… [sanjou wo maeni...] "Standing in front of a terrible scene..."] Last page: 死んだハズ… だが…?! [shinda hazu... daga...?!] "Supposedly dead... and yet...?!"

Colour Page Text (removed in EN version): 見据える過酷な旅路 [misueru kakoku na tabiji; "Sights fixed on the difficult journey ahead"]

Not much to say about the colour page except I like how moody it is (and big Makizumi guy is pretty cute with his pose). Guess I was wrong as usual about the Makizumi following Samura. Would be cool if they acted like personal bodyguards to Chihiro! They're the only ones who can really fight against Samura right now due to being presence-less ninjas after all. That's a really interesting conflict for them too- they clearly care for him a lot as the only person who treated them as actual people, and he definitely cares for them in return. His desire to save them during the Hishaku raid wasn't an act in the slightest! But more on that later.

Samura vs. Chihiro: Round 1

Stressed-out scribble-eye Chihiro returns... someone give him a hug.

Glad I didn't try to predict shit because I would have been totally flabbergasted by how this went. Way to make a (technical) liar out of me by saying Chihiro can't die since he's the MC, Hokazono-sensei.

Watching Chihiro break down in real time was so hard, man. This poor guy got his shit rocked by John yesterday at the Rakuzaichi, watched Tenri die a pointless death for the same reasons he's on his own journey, witnessed the horror of his dad's Civilian Murderton 3000 at 1% capacity, and now Samura, one of his heroes, betrayed them all with his dad's legacy. He even got one-tapped when he finally lost his cool for real.

Chihiro seriously can't handle all of this and it's so heartbreaking to see. This guy was not built for a bloody revenge mission at all. Now that he died, though... seriously, what's going to happen next?! Do we switch PoV to a different character while Chihiro's dealing with whatever's happening to him in what looks like a hospital morgue?

There are also some questions about the circumstances of his death and apparent revival- did he really die, or was that Kamunabi misinformation for/from the Hishaku mole? If he did, then how did he come back? And how does that affect his contract with Enten? There's absolutely nothing to go on right now so it's time to hunker down and not go crazy waiting for answers.

Apropos of nothing: I wonder if that wound that Samura gave him will scar. If so, it would mirror the one Uruha had on his shoulder:

RIP I'm still not over you, Uruha.

Probably just a nit-picky detail thing that won't amount to anything, but I wanted to post Uruha from when he was still alive so there you go. I'd be very surprised if Uruha came back somehow even though Chihiro apparently may have escaped death... It seems super-duper extra final that he's toast thanks to the duel he had with his master before getting done in. May you please reappear in flashbacks from time to time so I can get sad that you're no longer with us all over again.

One last thing before we move on to the Hishaku at Disused Building Full of Trash HQ:

SHIBAAAAAA SAVE YOUR NEPHEW AND HIS (BOY)FRIEND

Shiba showing up was in "delusions" territory for me but I'm so glad he's here!

Of course he's getting called out (kind of) for not telling Chihiro the truth- we saw him being one of Kunishige's top glazers back in chapter 1 despite how uncomfortable it made the dude to be praised. So we just have to sit back and wait for the secrets to come out once Chihiro's well enough to at least listen. And if Shiba can bring himself to talk. All the older guys in this manga are so guilty they'd put a Catholic to shame and Shiba already struggles with not being able to deter Chihiro from taking this bloody path in the first place. He almost failed to save a Rokuhira twice now too.

Samura's kindness towards Chihiro is so genuine even when he's trying to kill the kid. Don't ruin the image of Kunishige for him, Shiba- let him live and die in ignorant bliss.

"Your dad's legacy is the problem."

A man who shared Kunishige's vision has come to want to destroy everything about it and help expose the lies that made them into "heroes"... man, is there any non-Hishaku character in this manga that isn't encumbered by some huge amount of guilt?

Toxic Old Man Yaoi

Nice trashed warehouse HQ, bros. Definitely getting "we lost the war and suffered for it" vibes from these guys. I'm willing to stake 1 (ONE) slice of birthday cheesecake on everything I've talked about in the past regarding their origin- that the Seitei War was a civil war, and the Hishaku were on an imperialistic/dynastic side that lost. BECAUSE:

The Owl spread was AMAZEBALLS

MY NEMESIS

It's deliberate! This is the third time this damn vase has shown up, and in four panels this chapter no less! I need lovingly detailed close-ups of every flower to better ID them for the hanakotoba interpretations but I've only gotten a few so far. Most importantly, a matsumoto (elegance/nobility), sakurasou (deep desire), kiku (Imperial imagery), and what might be a poppy (for assured victory) but I'm not completely confident on the last one.

But anyway, yeah. Another yaoi bomb has hit the fandom.

Look at John talking like a five-year-old about unbreakable pinky promises lmao

Did it have to be pinky rings? What's next, they're connected by a red string? HOKAZONOOOOOOOOOOOO

They're in some kind of toxic stew of a relationship for sure with how things went down this chapter. Worst Jeanist helpfully gave us the details of the pact they made to get Samura's help and he's the only one who's concerned that the guy can actually make good on his "promise" to kill them all. Hope he's got some good anxiety management techniques because John won't say a damn thing about what his contingency plans are until they're enacted, apparently.

Can't run from the blind man.

How do you manoeuver against the guy who is set up to be the tactician of the war, though? His ability to super sense things and scout with that awesome-looking Owl power will definitely make it difficult to go against him despite being blind. And the EN TL says "control" here but the wording in JP was closer to "flushing out" like someone who pursues and exposes prey animals or drives cattle/sheep/etc. So Samura's definitely someone who's used to scouting and hunting, making him quite the formidable assassin.

Of course they're using each other though. And of course there's a separate Kamunabi mole that gave away the Rokuhira household's info. Guess we'll get into that shortly since I'm doing a dangerous thing and assuming that the Kamunabi have rounded up the rest of the Bearers at the HQ to chill with them and the Sword Master. Will they have enough manpower to stand against both the Hishaku and Samura by next week? Will Hakuri even wake up by then? Will Chihiro be able to fight at all? Probably since this is a high-octane action series! I'll just have to shut up and accept the condensed timeline sooner or later. (Seriously though, only a week?!)

"消耗 [used up/exhausted/depleted]" is one way to put it, I guess.

Wonder why they didn't kill Hakuri outright if he was such a problem. Do they have something planned for him later? It's not like John cares about sparing people's lives in the way Samura does, so wouldn't he have mentioned it would have been better to get rid of him for good? Eh, probably just a pointless nitpick. Hakuri's staying to the end of the series in all probability, so he just couldn't die here.

Needing to negotiate with other members-John's a first among equals like Beard Guy at the Kamunabi, maybe? Let's meet all the Hishaku members soon to find out!

Samura, Chihiro, Hiurhiko, and Worst Jeanist Musings

[slaps Samura] This bad boy can fit so much misguided grief in it.

This guy is already an incredibly compelling villain that I've done analysis on bit by bit as we got new info, and I gotta say that if I wasn't sold hard on Kyora for personal reasons then Samura would easily be #1 already. He's so complex and multi-layered! I think the detail that makes him great as a "villain" is that his convictions are colder than the surface of Pluto compared to Chihiro's (and most other character's) who burn bright and hot. Samura doesn't have any passion behind what he's doing, just an inflexible will to see a miserable but necessary job through to the end. If Chihiro's an unstable blazing young star, Samura is the black hole that remains after a supernova finally burns out.

The contrast during their first face-off is extremely telling too. Neither hesitate but Samura easily wins due to his composure alone, never mind the skill and experience gap. Poor Chihro's broken inside and out after finding out one of the people his dad trusted is helping his mortal enemies; the stoicism that John fractured the day before completely falls apart here to reveal Chihiro at his lowest.

"Better dead than a guilty sinner," is it? Too late for that!

And Samura's doing it all because he wants to spare him from becoming a tainted sinner. I can't hate Samura at all- he's doing this as an act of kindness with sympathetic motivations despite how far gone off the rails he is. This isn't a typical villain who just wants the world to burn after he wallowed in his misery for too long! I'm looking forward to seeing how Chihiro recovers and prepares to face him again. If he's going to be the one to do it, that is.

Look at this pathetic ugly frog guy.

Just putting this in my back pocket to pull out later if it manifests somehow. I don't have strong feelings one way or the other about Hiruhiko being the one to kill Samura right now, but I do hope he's not redeemed somehow to join the main cast. My feelings on why are extremely petty so I'll just leave it at "don't make him the bonkers former criminal ally guy that everyone sorta tolerates because he's earnest and useful". I will concede that he was almost cute this chapter, though. Worst Jeanist probably deserves a raise for putting up with him.

And now we know how John got his arm back too.

Another healing utility person like the Makizumi, huh? I wonder if we'll get more lore on if this is a field of study that anyone who can use sorcery can take advantage of (like tools), or if it's how their personal abilities manifest. Probably won't get answers unless we spend more time with the Makizumi so here's hoping!

WARNING: TERMINAL BRAIN ROT AHEAD

Not kidding in the slightest about the absolutely mind-numbingly stupid takes about this (very cool!) cover illustration. Skip this if I don't cut it from the final draft of the post unless you're into batshit ramblings from an insane fudanshi.

[feral screeching]

I've got really strong feelings about this cover. REALLY strong. Only the first of them is justified though. Kinda.

One, HIYUKI IT'S BEEN SO LONG I MISS YOU COME BACK TO THE MAIN STORY SOON! She looks so cool too! I love that she doesn't have to do blatantly feminine stuff ever- she's 100% badass and awesome every time she shows up. I'm waiting warmly for your return, my Spaghetti Queen! Use your frenemy rival status to help Chihiro overcome his issues this arc!

This cover and some of the community's reactions to it sparked a lot of thoughts that I've been working out for the past few days. Some about how leaks are being handled, some about how people are reacting to the characters and the composition, a lot about Hiyuki herself. The first easy enough: yes, this cover and colour page count as leaks. Don't spread that shit all over social media! Keep leaks a purely opt-in experience for everyone. The rest, well... probably going to have another massive essay since I love Hiyuki but I don't love why she's so refreshing, if that makes sense? And by God do I hate the way she gets treated by most of the fandom. But I'll work all that out over time.

Two, the Hiyuki-Chihiro design parallels are getting to me in a bad way. Like "tinfoil hat and red string on a tack board" levels of baseless speculation. But I think it's extremely deliberate on the author's part to keep using the same black-with-a-splash-of-red-up-top colour palette for them now that they even have matching undone bandages in this art for some reason. Why not have those two do their own thing like Hakuri got to? He actually kind of sticks out as if no one told him to dress all in black for this photo shoot!

I don't want to let my HakuHiro shipper bias get the better of me here though, so I'll just keep the crazy to myself until we learn more and/or I finish getting the Hiyuki thoughts in order.

Three, HEROINE HAKURI PROPAGANDA!

I'm being completely serious here! I've been banging pots and pans while screaming from the rooftops (internally) about how Hakuri is in the traditional heroine role since I wrote that HakuHiro essay around Chapter 38! He spares Hiyuki from having to balance things out by providing a soft touch because that's his job. And he's so good at it!

Seriously look at his pose! He's leaning in to Chihiro and doing a cute little gesture with his hands, looking so soft while Chihiro and Hiyuki are the baddest motherfuckers to ever exist! Hokazono-sensei was extremely serious when he said he intended for Hakuri to add cuteness. He's so cute! CUTE! But it's not like he's a total uwu marshmallow either- he's still got a really cool outfit on that highlights his boyish charm. He's just the "soft" one to Chihiro's cool and Hiyuki's fierce.

I know I'm a delusional lunatic for going nuts over this. And I hope it's clear that I'm not taking this as a sign that Hakuri's going to be an actual love interest. I'm not that far gone. I'm just always appreciating that Hakuri and Hiyuki essentially swapped roles in a traditional shounen trio in terms of what kind of balance they bring to the dynamic. I think it's an underrated aspect of Kagurabachi's appeal and I wish more shounen did this! Hokazono-sensei seems to love cute guys and cool women and I am 100% behind him if that's the case.

Rough entry but I'm not having a good time lately. Do your best to survive the rest of the year, kind void. We'll make it through for the sake of finding out how the Kagurabachi cast suffers from week to week if nothing else. Give yourself a little treat today, okay?

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 31

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 3380

A/N: This chapter is from several different perspectives.

Warnings: The Angst is back, Dean being Dean, navigating being an empath, suggestive thoughts, longing, Fluff, Premonition, Talk of Bonding (This is something specifically for this AU. I do not see this as a "requirement" to fully connect to someone, but for this story, it is needed).

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 31

Even though it had happened near four in the morning, neither of you could go back to sleep. The images that bombarded Dean’s mind had his nerves on edge just as badly as if he had had the nightmare himself. He must have held you for an hour before the both of you finally made your way to the kitchen for coffee, then lots of cuddles on the couch. Calling Crowley had gone far easier than you had pictured it. 

You explained the first nightmare, then the second one, adding what Pamela had told you. At first, you weren’t sure if Crowley was going to be of any help with as silent as he got on the other end of the line. Then, he said something that brought both hope and fear. “You’ve had two, both involving Cole. I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t give you more than that before he hung up.

With a sigh and a frown, you looked up at Dean, who placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “It’ll be alright,” he tried to reassure you, even with the knot in his stomach.

“It’s not fair. Why can’t they just leave me alone?” it was a question you both already knew the answer to, but neither of you wanted to speak it out loud. You were partially relieved that you didn’t know more of what was going on with Cole, but only partially.

Dean set your cup and his on the coffee table before he pulled you into full-on cuddles on the couch, something you both needed. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of the words that went through his head seemed right. The last thing he wanted to do was brush off what you were going through. —------------------------------

Crowley had spoken to Pamela the day you had visited her. Now, he was sitting in one of his studies, leaning back in the chair and sipping his drink. The computer in front of him was on, but his gaze was elsewhere. Cole had been released only a day ago. There wasn’t enough against him to hold or charge him with anything. Abaddon had made sure of that.

He was currently debating how he wanted to deal with this. It wasn’t like the authorities did anything in a timely manner, and Crowley hated red tape. “Sir, Mr. Winchester is here,” the butler stated, standing in the doorway.

“Show him in,” Crowley sighed. With Meg staying in Sioux Falls, he was down one of his best helpers. He knew Ketch could easily handle this job, but that was far riskier. Ketch had a tendency to enjoy his work far too… deeply.

After Dean’s phone call almost a week ago, Sam had been trying to help Crowley find a way to keep Cole locked up. That had led from one dead end to another. Since Cole hadn’t left any sort of paper trail, there was literally no evidence that he was anything more than a victim of what his father had started over twenty years ago.

“Alright, Crowley. What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded as he burst into the study past the butler, who hadn’t even had the opportunity to announce him.

“Nice to see you too, Moose,” Crowley muttered before sitting up. “She’s had another premonition, and Pamela confirmed it.” The bombshell hit Sam hard, causing him to sit in one of the chairs as his mind began racing. “Where’s Cole now?”

“According to my informants, he’s in Madison. His jeep is parked outside a Super Eight motel off Second Street. I’ve already confirmed that he’s there, room seven,” Crowley replied, still figuring out how he wanted to proceed and the repercussions of his options.

All Sam could do was stare at Crowley in utter disbelief. Cole’s location was only an hour from Sioux Falls. The silence stretched between the two, neither ready to speak the things circling their thoughts. “Coffee, Mr. Winchester?” the butler asked from the doorway, pulling Sam from his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered absentmindedly, then turned back to Crowley. “So, what are you doing to stop him?”

Crowley looked over at Sam, debating just what information to share and what to keep to himself, then leaned back in his chair. “I’ve already alerted the main office here. They said they would take care of it, but I don’t trust them.” He paused, taking a sip of his drink, studying Sam. “I contacted a few other places, to speed things up. Ketch will be flying out in a few hours.” Sam didn’t have to ask who Crowley contacted. There was an intricate system in place for those who had premonitions, and Pamela was well-known within that system. Ketch had already packed, and he was waiting to board his flight. His assignment was simple: follow Cole and keep Y/N and Dean safe.

“Then why am I here? You could have told me all this over the phone,” Sam finally asked Crowley, quite bluntly as the butler returned with his coffee.

For a moment, Crowley let the silence stretch between them as the tension built in the small room. It was cases like this that got to him, even if he never let it show. He had a reputation to uphold. “Pamela wanted me to pass on a message. Don’t go to Sioux Falls till after your brother’s birthday.” With a sigh, Sam leaned back in the chair. He knew what that meant. Pamela had seen something, and had been cryptic on purpose. Running a hand down his face, he sighed, lost in thought. This was supposed to have been easy. Cole was supposed to go down with his father and grandfather, but Abaddon had found enough of a loophole and gotten him released. Now, you and Dean were in danger, again. “I’ll reschedule my flight,” Sam finally mumbled out before heading for the door. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“It’ll be taken care of, one way or another,” Crowley muttered, causing Sam to pause for a brief moment before leaving. 

—-----------------------------------

When the plane touched down at the Sioux Falls airport, Ketch was attempting to stay patient. Flights always took far too long, but they were faster than driving, and right now, time was of the essence. He had wanted to follow Cole the moment he’d been released, but Crowley had forbidden it. 

Going through the airport, he paid no attention to the people passing by, living their lives in their own bubbles. Ketch was focused on his current assignment, bag slung over his shoulder. It was already early afternoon, and he still had driving to do. At least his contact was parked outside in a relatively inconspicuous black car. Ketch didn’t even bother noting its make or model as he placed his bag in the trunk and then slid into the passenger seat.

“Your rental is already at the motel, waiting,” Mick began before popping the glovebox and handing him several items. “That’s your new ID-” but Ketch cut him off.

“Just drive, Mick. I don’t have time for this. I know the drill,” Ketch’s words were pointed, taking the papers and giving them a quick once over before slipping them into the inner pocket of his suit.

Mick was more talkative than Ketch preferred, wanting to make small talk. Ketch’s focus was on his next ten moves, like in chess, letting his thoughts drown out Mick’s voice on the nearly forty-five-minute drive to his motel. He didn’t need anything fancy. He was there for an assignment, and the less conspicuous his accommodations were, the better.

A slight smirk formed when he saw the motorcycle parked in the lot outside the motel. It would serve his purpose perfectly, allowing him to go off-road if he needed to in order to follow Cole. Even as Ketch got out of the car, Mick was still talking, something about a tracking device on Cole’s Jeep. “I’m aware,” was all the reply he gave, closing the door and grabbing his bag out of the trunk. Mick sighed, then held out the key to Ketch’s room. “I think you’ll need this.”

Ketch gave him an annoyed look, grabbed the key from Mick’s hand, and went to his motel room, ignoring Mick’s amusement. The motel room was basic, but Ketch wasn’t concerned with creature comforts. He had a job to do. 

The sounds of engines came and went outside with the traffic, but his focus was on his laptop, now watching as the tracker made its way along a backroad toward Sioux Falls. With the roads Cole was choosing, Ketch made a projected route to your house. About two more hours. He glanced over at his bag as he leaned back in his chair. Time to go.

His focus was on his assignment as he made his way through town. The chill of January not bothering him through the layers of clothing he had adorned before heading out. Ketch didn’t go directly to your home. He pulled off the side of the road, heading into the forested area. This was a stealth mission. Once his bike was hidden well, he went back, covering his tracks, his tactical bag slung over his shoulder. It was well past noon, nearly evening, and the sun would be setting soon. Good. The night would be his friend. Ketch weaved through the forest toward your home, the only sound was the crunching of the leaves under his feet and the occasional bird. The trees had already lost their leaves, making the area look desolate. 

Ketch stopped just inside the treeline and pulled out his phone. Cole wasn’t far now. He turned off his phone after setting it to silent, then slipped it into one of his pockets and zipped it shut. This way, even a simple notification wouldn’t give him away. Ketch took in the area, needing to find not only a decent location to keep an eye on Cole but also a place he could easily slip inside your home if need be. 

The shed in the back was a no-go, as it was too far away from the front, and he wouldn’t have a clear line of site. The tree line was too far away, and it would take too long to get to one of the doors if Cole went inside. Ketch let his gaze fall on your home. The roof was typical for places with snow, and it clearly had an attic. Crossing the distance in quick strides, he listened carefully to the sounds that seemed to echo in the area. So far, though, no indication that Cole’s Jeep was nearby. Using your porch, he climbed up on the roof with ease, using skills he’d perfected over the years. Ketch carefully inspected the roof, finding two different ways inside if he needed to. One of those was your bedroom window, which he could easily slip down to.

Ketch crouched down, watching your driveway as the early moments of twilight set in. With you living outside the city, he could hear things for what felt like miles as they echoed off the sleeping forest. It wasn’t long after that when an engine rumbled in the distance. Ketch lifted his head slowly in the direction of the sound. It was coming from the opposite direction he had taken. Clever.

Setting his tactical bag down in front of him, he opened it, then went through the motions he’d done hundreds of times as he assembled the sniper rifle. It was only a precaution. His sidearm was what he knew he’d probably end up using. Ketch stowed the empty bag near the chimney before nestling himself behind it, watching the driveway that weaved through the forest.

—---------------------------------

Dean had heard the alarm go off, quickly making his way to the security room before you and sliding into the seat. Just as you were about to join him, having only made it to the doorway, he got right back up and blocked you from going further. “Let’s just go watch another movie,” he suggested, wanting to shield you from what was taking place outside.

You could feel that he was hiding something, his worry trickling through the connection between you. “What are you hiding from me?” It was a simple question, but your fears were creeping in again.

He sighed and pulled you into his arms. “Please, Sweetheart. Can we just go watch a movie and cuddle?” Dean asked again, and even though his tone was soft, you felt the plea within his words. 

Reluctantly, you gave in, even with that nagging fear, and let him guide you back into the living room. It had already been a long day after the nightmare you’d had, and now Ketch was here, on the roof. Dean knew that could only mean one thing- Cole was on his way. Trying to push his thoughts away, he focused on the movies, needing one that would completely distract you and him from everything. Batteries Not Included it is.

Dean steadied his emotions as he slipped the VHS into the player and joined you on the couch. You kept trying to feel what he was trying to hide, but he was doing a far better job of it than you cared to admit. Something was going on, and whatever it was, he knew. Even as the movie began playing and you snuggled against him with him holding you close, he felt… off. 

I wish you’d just tell me.

Please. Just be here with me, in this moment.

As those words whispered through your mind, that knot returned to your stomach, the fear that never seemed to truly leave you. Dean felt it, twisting his insides. Relax. We’re safe. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It took everything in him to calm his stomach, letting out several shaky breaths. You wanted to apologize but didn’t, remembering what he’d asked of you in the beginning. So, instead, you focused on the movie, on being in his arms, and how his heartbeat finally evened out in a steady rhythm. That finally allowed Dean to relax, just not all the way. He didn’t need to be in the loop to know what was going on. Cole was on his way there, for you, and Ketch had been sent to stop him. Which also meant that the authorities that were supposed to take care of this, hadn’t moved fast enough. Or, they simply hadn’t thought it was a high priority.

You allowed the movie to completely distract you, remembering how Pamela had told you that you let fear run your life. Even if it was hard, you’d been trying to push past it, to truly hope for a normal life with Dean. His presence steadied you. His embrace comforted you. And halfway through the movie, you were finally able to let go of the fear that had gripped you earlier. 

—--------------------------

Ketch watched as Cole parked twenty feet from your porch, then sat in his Jeep after turning everything off. Cole’s movements inside the Jeep were easy to watch with the overhead light on inside. He has a handgun. Ketch cocked the sniper rifle but knew he would need a damn good reason to use it. For now, neither of you were in direct harm. He watched Cole slip on a bulletproof vest, then a heavy jacket, and double-checked his gun, keeping it in hand.

Just as Cole stepped out of his Jeep, Ketch heard the sound of several vehicles in the near distance, pulling his attention to the darkness beyond the Jeep. Six sets of lights were rabidly approaching down your winding driveway. He quickly looked through the scope, keeping it trained on Cole. The moment Cole went to move back to his Jeep, Ketch fired a warning shot at the ground, effectively keeping him from going further.

Cole glared up toward the roof of your home, making Ketch smirk. He would have happily shot him, but now he wouldn’t have to. The six vehicles surrounded the Jeep and Cole before over a dozen people quickly got out with weapons drawn.

“Cole Vaught, put the gun down and put your hands behind your head,” one of the men barked the order at him. 

He did as they told him, knowing they’d shoot him without a second's hesitation. Ketch just smirked at Cole’s predicament but kept the sniper rifle trained over the man’s face. Four men rushed Cole while another retrieved his gun. With Cole in handcuffs, they hauled him toward one of the vehicles, and Ketch watched as he disappeared into the back seat. 

Ketch stayed there on your roof, even after they had driven away, one of them driving Cole’s Jeep. Silence had fallen on the area again before he disassembled his rifle and placed it back into his bag. With a disappointed sigh, he pulled out his phone, “Looks like they weren’t completely incompetent. Cole has been taken into custody.”

“Stay there for a few days, just in case. I don’t trust those people,” the voice on the other end replied before hanging up.

He had no plans of staying on your roof all night, so he made his way back to his bike and then back to the motel, already planning his next moves off of numerous possibilities. He had one job, to keep you and Dean safe.

—----------------------------

The following day, you woke to those beautiful green orbs watching you, pulling a smile to your lips. “Morning, beautiful,” he said softly, leaning down, placing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Mmmm…” you hummed, snuggling a little closer to him. “How long have you been awake?” you asked sleepily, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace.

“Not long,” he murmured, letting his hand slide down your back before finding your hip.

You tried not to let your mind wander, but his hands always felt so inviting, and he had always been so considerate that it was getting harder and harder not to let go. “Tease,” you mumbled, a bit playfully.

Dean loved mornings like this, when you were completely relaxed, and the weight of everything was far from your thoughts. You were playful, receptive, and the love in your eyes when they met his had his heart racing. That smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, tightening his grip on your hip just a little before he pulled you flush against him.

“And that’s all I’ll be, till you’re ready,” he teased before kissing you. 

When his lips met yours, you closed your eyes, getting lost in the way your emotions danced with his. You set your hand on his side, taking a deep breath through your nose, but allowed yourself to let go of everything but what you felt at that moment. His lips teased yours, occasionally letting his tongue taste you, and you didn’t pull away. He stifled a groan when you reciprocated his movements, and he shifted his body so he was lying more on his side as you let him lie you more on your back. The feeling of safety enveloped you like a warm blanket. These were the moments you wanted just to let go in, but the outside world always seemed to interfere as your phone began ringing on the nightstand.

You groaned, loudly at the interruption while Dean just sighed, lying back and staring at the ceiling, attempting to hide his frustration. It was a number you didn’t recognize but answered it anyway; it could be important.

“Hello?” you asked, sitting up in bed.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been told not to leave your home for at least four more days. Cole is in our holding facility. He’ll be transferred to the main security hold this afternoon. I’d like to meet with you today. Would it be okay if I came by?” the woman with a southern accent explained as your anxiety spiked.

“Who is this?” was all you could get out while Dean quickly shifted in the bed so he was now sitting up and as close to you as he could get.

The woman let out a sigh, “I’m Missouri. We need to meet. Pamela gave me your number.”

----------------------------------------- Chapter 32

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[kazxraval]

Everyone's changed. His head bobbled a little before he looked down at the knuckles on his skin. A pointless denial died as a small and disagreeable sound in his throat. Instead, a hand cupped over Emre's knuckles. Only a few seconds granted to inspect those eyes, ones he'd swam reverently through before, as well as Emre's current expression. "You have." Yes, the man with blood on his collar was the one who'd changed, Kaz's opinion.

Kaz cracked a smile, with fingers playing across Emre's swan neck. "It's nice to want something. Isn't it? We can look forward to it." As thought his simple desire to fuck would send them spinning through the fabric of time to the island again. The trip to Seattle was such a disaster, maybe the delay returning home was just another part of the dumpster fire.

If things felt unsettled to Emre, to Kaz it was a reality that he paid no mind to. Wouldn't matter much. All he really needed was to get back to the island.

Emre smartly tended to the disabled boat, with an attempt at the dead radio, and ultimately turned the vessel into a beacon before it could sink beneath the water. While Kaz's brawl with Georgie was asshort-lived as her ability to fight. When he subdued her sharp claws and bites, he handed over the knife she nicked him with to Emre. Fucking hell, Kaz! "It's alright." Well, Georgie wasn't necessarily, but that wasn't so important.

Emre brought the situation into a keen focus. No rafts. No... dolphins. "Think it's a random boat? What if she somehow got a message out to her contacts." The radio on the ship had been checked. "Did it look like someone fucked with the radio?" Was it possible she reached her connection first, and then damaged the equipment?

Kaz held on to Emre's smile for a minute. His gaze didn't go over the railing but out to the lights fast approaching. "You want us to pirate a ship?" A payment. Bargaining chips. Georgie groaned, groggy. Either the injured boat they were on or Feroze echoed their pain in the background too, although Kaz could barely tell the difference between the them.

"What if we told them that Feroze and Georgie were hurt when the boat wrecked? And we ask them for help." Of course, whatever ruse Emre decided worked best would be the one they'd go with.

"Fuck, Emre. I don't know about this one. Don't like it." His head hurt, the muscles in his neck killed him. Every bone in his body felt the weight of the entire trip. "I don't like you going into this blind either." There weren't a lot of options.

"Yeah. Yeah. Grab Feroze. Actually -- if you can bring him up here. I can help you too. May be easier for the other boat to see them both, yeah?" Just outside the bridge, he deposited Georgie but kept alert in case she faked it again. "And I can try to get some of the crew on board the lower deck." Maybe. It was the shakiest plan ever dreamed up. In his experience, best to prepare to jump on opportunities instead.

He tipped his head towards the strap of the spear gun, with the weapon thrown over a shoulder again. "Yeah. I'm good. I don't understand how you're gonna get onboard though. Without anyone noticing." He flashed a small smile. "Stealthy bastard, I know. I shouldn't even ask, hm?"

Why wouldn't they want yours? Kaz took a pause to look at Emre. "I have no idea" After a quick scan from Emre's wrist back up to his face again, "Other than that stupid tattoo having a meaning we don't know about." And then he began to wonder. "Why don't they want me?" His tone impartial. "What are you trying to say." A beat. "Got one prime organ over here." He grabbed himself to illustrate the touch of bleak humor.

They made a quick sweep below deck, to check the current damage and for anything else that might assist them. When it was time for Emre to prepare, Kaz kissed him quick. Then he waited. Feroze, in plain view, was going no where. And Georgie. Never would've guessed it would come to Kaz using her to bargain with. But, he'd never met anyone like Emre either.

As the other ship drew nearer, Kaz waved it down. Indicated where the similarly sized boat should pull up alongside the broken one. Noted five people were in view on deck. None of them looked particularly friendly. "Careful, we've hit something," Kaz called out. "We're taking on water, but slowly." Fuck if Kaz knew the exact details, but he winged it.

A short but gruff looking white guy with a shock of unruly ginger hair stepped forward, the apparent spokesman for the crew. His eyes scanned the boat, and then Kaz. 'We can see that.' His squint hardened momentarily. 'Your boat clipped the edge of a reef. How the hell did you possibly do that?'

"Equipment failure," Kaz bullshitted. "I'm looking to get some help. Hoping we can cut a deal." How would he know when Emre made it on board. Why the hell did he agree to letting Emre do that?

Kaz was an expert at maintaining a flat expression in the worst of times. But he stayed alert. Hoped to see a sign of Emre in his peripheral. Would the men who stood behind their 'captain' suddenly go wide-eyed as Emre snapped their necks or dragged a knife across their throats?

'A deal?' The captain repeated. 'By the looks of your boat, you better talk fast.'

The organ trafficker story didn't seem to go well with Kaz, and Emre wasn't quite sure why. But then, Emre didn't know this Georgina the way Kaz did. Something didn't add up for Kaz; but Emre pointed out, "It's been years, man. Decades. And this new world order as well...everyone's changed, haven't they." Emre's knuckles made a crescent along Kaz's arm to signify: including you.

How thrilling, to blurt whimsical things and see Kaz's eyes minutely flare white and bright. A smile on his lips that Emre decided was just for him, only for him. Words returned so smooth and clever, Emre could've dropped trou right there, if there weren't the silly little matter of surviving. Emre tilted his head back and groaned, long and throaty. "Fucking teleports! Why isn't it pulling us back yet. Fuck you make me so hot at the most inappropriate times, you know that? You bastard."

Not that it was even good to just zip back home. Nothing was resolved, nothing tidily wrapped in a neat package for Kaz! Everything - from brief, confounding glimpse of Priti in the city, to Georgina's organ trafficking - it was all so fucking messy and raw. And Kaz here, grimly cauterising every new bleeding as they sprung. How much more of this could he handle with his usual brand of stoic dismissal? His capacity seemed unending. It wasn't even taking it in stride; Kaz had a knack for rendering these titular people from his past - Priti, Georgina - completely irrelevant.

Like nothing hurt him. Like they couldn't hurt him.

But Kaz was human, and his capacity to love...Emre had witnessed and felt that first hand. Kaz's capacity of feel was immense, a maelstrom, one Emre was eager to get swept away in.

Kaz brought Emre back to current, with a pitiless lecture at Feroze. "Sometimes you scare me, my luv," Emre gently murmured, stroking Kaz's back again as they moved past Feroze's chilling position. (A position that Emre had put him in but...in Emre's mind, that was different. Not scary per se, just essential.)

They got to Georgina, and she confirmed before Emre could. He dashed to the captain to inspect but. Damn. Emre had intended to just incapacitate the man, but he'd botched it, and the wanker bled out. Emre keenly listened to Kaz and Georgina yelling at each other. Unbothered by the row, but trying to understand their twisted past, how it had fermented over the years, and bubbled open now.

Emre slid over to the console, grunting in frustration that the radio was somehow destroyed. He found switches for the navigational lights and flicked them on, knowing that it might attract whomever was coming for them; but counting on it now. Stranded out here in the water in a sinking, smoking, screaming yacht, it seemed like their best chance. More fighting, more violence; Emre could manage, and Kaz? Kaz would throw himself into the fray without question, when he'd already been so poorly beaten. What choice did they have, though.

Didn't it always boil down to that in the end?

A roar from behind Emre, and he turned in time to see Georgina free of her binds, leaping at Kaz. The struggle was tight and difficult for Emre to get a hand in - every time he tried to grab a fistful of Georgina's hair, she flipped aside. But Kaz solved it with his trusty fucking spear-gun - metal met flesh, and Georgina was down for the count. Kaz up on his feet in a flash, hauling Georgina up like a sack of potatoes. "Fucking hell, Kaz! Fuck! Fuck..."

Emre was shaking his head again at all of Kaz's questions. "No man. No life rafts. If we jump in the water, we won't survive." The water was freezing cold when Emre fell in, he could just imagine it now. "No dolphins coming for us this time. Kaz - " Emre turned to look at him. "Whoever's coming for us, their boat is our best chance, yeah?

Emre nodded to Georgina's deadweight. "And she's our bargaining chip. Fucking hell, someone in this fucking wasteland has got to hold some value to the others...! No offense, darling." A smile returned, but nothing felt as warm and melty-sweet, as Kaz's smile to him; nothing. "I'm sure Seattle was lovely. I would've loved to take the Urmilla tour."

It seemed there were boat lights in the distance, coming closer. Emre looked over the railing at Feroze. "Do you reckon he might have any value too? I'll fetch him."

Emre started down the ladder, his knives tucked into his waistband, A glance up at Kaz. "Still got your spear, yeah? When the other boat gets close, you greet them with Georgina and Feroze, stall them? I'll try and get on the boat and...." Emre licked his lips, thinking about Georgina's threats. They were coming for Emre, she said. Why not for Kaz's youthful organs too? What did Georgina know about Kaz? Or did she just want to keep Kaz for herself, like a prize or a pet?

"Well. They're not good people, are they? If they want my guts, I'll hand them their own." Ad then, Emre couldn't help but point out: "Why wouldn't they want yours?"

[smugliar]

Hello

[blazingblorbos]

oh god. oh god. oh.. oh gosh. I didn't expect this so soon. I didn't expect this today, I've been busy with life related things so the HYV calendar is really unbeknownst to me, is this update really next week already?? where can I rant about this- whERe can I rant about this-

oh. I made a blog for that exact purpose ! OKAY—!

fuck. fuck me, dude holy-

FUCK.

the slightly worried look on Arle's face as Snezhevna is reaching out her hand, only for her face to seemingly revert back to cold and neutral once the camera actually focuses in on her. Her tone is cold but her words are reassuring,,,,,,,,

ALSO GOD FUCKING DAMN IT. HOW GENTLY SHE HOLDS HER HAND.

the d o o r. the DOOR. THE FUCKING DOOR, CHAT. the slow opening at first, and once you can make out that it's certainly Arle's silhouette she shoves it fully open - both doors, both hands. incredibly attractive—. the FEAR in that man's eyes.

The crossed hands. We can't see her face but you know what expression she's making (it's not really an expression. it's neutral but you can feel it). THE FUCKING F E A R ON THAT MAN'S FACE.

Oh- she literally just grabbed him by the throat. Just like that- ! There's the expression. Oh, you feel it, alright. If you go frame by frame, you'll notice her eyes narrow in the slightest right before ->

POV: you're getting chocked out by Arlecchino, and that's actually the least of your worries. (my god she is beautiful).

I did not expect him to simply be thrown down to the ground and I ... d i d not expect her to step on his FACE. [insert gay masochistic joke here. you know the one]. Did not expect her to smile (this is the ONLY scene wherein we see her smile even slightly... huh...) *And the reason I say "I did not expect her to smile", is because with the momentum we were getting I thought she was straight up going to crush his throat, or stab him (hand, weapon or otherwise). It looked like she was digging the forefoot of her shoe into the guys head and not the... .. y'know deadly fucking heel, so that.. confused me. (and the sound when she supposedly stomped his head in did NOT sound all that impactful) but ANYWAYS I digress-

I'm of course assuming more happened after the cut to black because . madam where did you get that bloodstain on you—

BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE!?!?!? (more on this in a second)

Freminet??? Freminet feature ! (not Lyney or Lynette.. interesting). :(((( the poor boy sounds so,, desensitized. His father

holy shit quick intermission. After the mental chronological fuckfest that was "The Song Burning in the Embers" I don't think I can look at Arle and the HotH the same anymore because she's.. she's like not even 10 years older than them (?) it's insane this doesn't make any sense- ANYWAYS.

HIS FATHER comes back with what we later see to be real blood on her face. Tells him "I've acquired new funds". We know what that means... HE knows what that means!!, and the way WE - THE AUDIENCE - know that Freminet knows what it means is because the boy replies "Oh.. Okay.."

LIKE-! chat omg this is truly just routine for them,,,, Like out of the 3 siblings, Freminet always gave off the biggest child assassin vibe, but wow. To see that routine and desensitized nature of the HotH's line of work just,, splayed out in a Character Trailer is . wow. and the look in his eyes as he says it is- wow.

YEAH UHH BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE??/ The lighting in this scene now is evidently less saturated. And it's just- oh my FUCKING GOD it does so many things:

the blood on Arle's face looks... dry. it doesn't look as fresh as you may expect which could mean many things. It could mean she spent,,, hella long in there with that guy doing what needed to be done. It could mean she took care of something else immediately after dealing with that guy (perhaps smth related to the children Snezhevna wanted to save). But regardless, it means she didn't put in the effort to clean her face and hide what happened. OBVIOUSLY !!! that is so . obviously her style but to S E E IT IN MY GENSHIN IMPACT CHARACTER TRAILER it's- oh my god

it serves to highlight the really, truly, bleak nature of the scene now that we know plain and simple Arlecchino just killed a man. There's no subtext, there's no reading between the lines. The only thing that didn't happen is that we didn't see contact nor see a body. But, no sugarcoating, Arlecchino killed a man. No one is hiding it. You are not surprised. No one should be but damn.

and ofc it acts as a representation of Snezhevna dying...

because it seems like the saturation is back once the camera switches to looking at Snezhevna laying in bed.

And is it me, or does it look like Arle's allowing herself to actually display a tinge of worry in her expression this time? And also, EVER so slightly in her tone as well. You can feel it, it's gentler.

"Once I'm better I'll start my next mission.."

THIS. THIS!! IN SO MANY WAYS THIS!

OKAY. so bear with me. I haven't actually read any of the sibling's character stories yet, so there could be a LOT of info I'm missing but:

There's still a pretty thought-provoking conversation going on (in MY mind, at least) about just how intensely these children are being trained to be soldiers for the Fatui. They're obviously in an environment that indoctrinates them into being soldiers of SOME kind, but I still don't know what kind of soldier that's supposed to be. Are they all ALWAYS extensions of the Fatui? Or are they more-so extensions of Arlecchino specifically..? Snezhevna was obviously trying to help those children she came across, and I'm assuming that happened on her latest mission, so was the mission for a charitable cause?? What was her next mission supposed to be?? Same line of work? Saving people? Or would it switch up and was she going to be sent to "take care of" (kill .) someone???

So I don't know whether to interpret that line as a hint of them being overworked and 1) feeling like they need to continue their work out of pure fear that they'll be deemed ineffective and useless... or 2) feeling like they need to continue their work out of a sense of loyalty and duty to the place that took them in and raised them. Or both..

and ofc the funeral scene. I can't say much more than what's already shown right on the screen.

and am I bugging? Or is the location of the grave....

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"wow how pathetic it is of a man who isn't much of a fighter to be afraid and want to live in the middle of aggressors invading his lands"

WHY WON'T U JUST GIVE UP AND STOP DEFENDING YOUR LANDS THAT WE'RE INVADING AND ATTACKING ON TOP OF YOU LITERALLY DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO US

[limitlesses]

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐈𝐌, 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊. They didn't look at him like he was human, idolizing him to death or puffing up their chests to try and measure themselves against his reputation as the world-altering Gojo Satoru every sorcerer worth something knew about. He didn't want to waste his time trying to treat them like people when he almost never got that treatment returned. Suguru did, though. Always Suguru.

So of course he cackled like an evil maniac when Suguru relinquished his player one status to his undefeated might, tugging the wireless controller into his hands and smacking the player two controller into the other's grasp with a messy fumble and shove. Exchange successful. He sat back, chin tipped up, utterly pleased with himself whilst navigating the car options and picking his signature customized one. He toggled the joystick and watched as the blue neon twirled and spun in a 360 continuous rotation until Suguru's selections were made.

Suguru's answer to his question had Satoru's thumb zigzagging on the joystick instead, his car's rotation jaggedly darting back and forth instead. Ah, a few years ago... middle school? He tried imagining a slightly younger, piercing-less Suguru looking longingly at another guy from his desk -- or, uh, apparently... girls too? Ah, did Suguru have a type? Did the guys and girls he went for have the same aesthetic? What were the statistical chances that any of them had blue eyes and pale hair ----

Satoru's cheeks flushed dark, and he had to look away from the TV for a second, off to the side toward the window.

❝  — ... the person themselves, huh? ❞ Somehow, that didn't make Satoru feel any better -- like he couldn't just be unattractive physically, or not match the physical type Suguru had, but now he also could be unattractive as a person himself to Suguru? Great, fuck.

WAIT... WHY WAS HE SO WORRIED ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT HE WAS SUGURU'S TYPE?!

... FUCK!

He abruptly lowered his head and clacked his forehead against his controller, groaning without explanation. And then he realized he did that out loud, so he had to, uh, cough a little to play it off. Utter bullshit.

❝  W-what ... kinds of people did you, uh, have you dated before? Must've been weird -- normies, right? Before Jujutsu High. How did you... -- ❞ -- he didn't know how else to ask, or how to end that sentence. But the question burned in him nonetheless. How did Suguru connect with those people? Was it... just for sex? He said he had experience, so that meant -- like, experience experience. Or maybe he meant it in the nonsexual way? Who fucking knew.

He actually was glad to talk about ---- clan shit, as he said earlier, because then that could detract from the fact that he was currently Going Through It with the pendulum of emotions and a fucking... dilemma, apparently, slipped underneath the weight of his epiphany of liking boys. Neatly packaged: he had a crush on Geto Suguru.

❝ ---- ... I was, uh, pretty much raised by nannies growing up in Kyoto, my parents don't know much about me, either -- just the how-to manual for Limitless. ❞ He shrugged, an emphasis onto the way loose fabric shifted and slid against pale skin exposed, a deep dip of collarbone and shoulder... -- Suguru's crisis went unnoticed whilst Satoru hoped his own went the same way, too.

❝ That was more important than... ---- yeah, and me giving them some kids now. But everyone goes through that pressure, right? That's like... the standard TV drama shit. Mine's just heightened because I'm ---- the end of a prestigious bloodline, I guess. I have a ton of offshoot cousins, the family tree isn't dead-dead, but the branches aren't... 'pure' and up to standards, though thank fuck we're not like... marrying within the family or some shit like the old days. ❞

Satoru sighed, lowering his gaze back to his hands, fidgeting with the controller some more, tracing the seam that separated the top and bottom of the black molded plastic. ��� Maybe I should be grateful, just go with it, even if the whole thing makes... -- it makes my heart just... sink. I shouldn't be selfish and end a whole bloodline just because I have a preference. God, and the fucking Zenin clan would have a field day... ❞

Abruptly as the dread that filled his stomach and welled up into his chest, Satoru flopped the controller aside onto the mattress and fell onto his back again, legs sprawled and spilling over the edge of the bed, his hands flying up to cover his face with another groan spilling against his pressing palms.

❝ -- ugggghhh, I don't know! What do I even say? It's going to sound so... ---- so... self-centered, and yeah, like... all my shit is always self-centered, sure, fuck off -- I get it, you got me, but this is... seriously self-centered, Suguru! But -- ❞

Another breath, and he wiped his hands down his face, leaving them near the edge of his jaw to linger there in case he wanted to groan into them again. He drilled his gaze up at the ceiling because that was easier to spill his heart out to in the moment.

❝ -- can't I just... exist a little? You know, without something or someone relying on me, NEEDING me to do this or that a certain way? Maybe I wanna have a... a boyfriend and talk about Digimon and -- yeah, I'm rambling ---- sorry ---- but I want to, and I want to watch you roll your eyes or, I don't know, tell you my silly jokes and laugh and... -- instead of having to... worry about clan power dynamics and offspring shit and... having the fate of a dynasty that's been around since fucking Ryomen Sukuna on my shoulders. ❞

He breathed, moving his hands back up to cover his face fully, fingers pressing gently against his eyelids.

❝ I want to... I want a lot, right? Or, maybe it isn't a lot. I don't know. I just want... I want to play this stupid video game and, I want to -- ... like my stupid things, act my stupid self without... feeling like I shouldn't. ❞

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐑, talking about the advanced mathematics his powers demanded of him on a near-constant basis.  None of this was news to Suguru, but he loved teasing his friend about it regardless.

❝ At all times, huh, ❞  Suguru replied with the slight tilting of his head, as if studying him —-- merely thinking out loud.  While Satoru’s abilities were incredibly impressive, that ego of his so often got in the way —-- acting as a deterrent towards other students who had, at one point, wanted to get to know him. The Gojo prodigy could be a bit rough around the edges at times; abrasive and intimidating to others that didn’t know him as well as Suguru did.

One day he’d talk to him about it… encourage him to get to know some of the others in their midst, even if they were weaker than him. To let them in. He valued Satoru's friendship so much —-- he really wanted their classmates to see how great Satoru was, too.

Suguru took the last bite of his onigiri, savoring the taste as Satoru’s expression softened.  The warmth that spread across his face as he spoke about wanting to know all there was to know about the other was seemingly contagious, for Satoru was now looking back at him with an expression mirroring his own —-- that overly confident act falling away, leaving only the vulnerable, trusting boy he so cherished behind.

As he began opening up about his preferences, and how he had discovered them, Suguru listened intently… his eyes softening as they drifted down to the other’s hands, only to watch as he began fidgeting.  Satoru was nervous, talking about this… it nearly made his heart ache.  Was he really the first one Satoru ever opened up to about all of this? 

He couldn’t help but wonder how lonely his upbringing had been.  Limitless had truly isolated him in a much different way than Suguru’s own abilities had…

Suguru’s gaze drifted back up to meet with Satoru’s as he began to mention the when of it all, but before he could really grasp what the other was saying, Satoru was essentially tackling him to get his controller. ❝ H-hey!  Fuck off! ❞  Suguru laughed, clutching at his controller half-heartedly before eventually relinquishing it.  He didn’t actually care which player he was —-- Suguru was more than fine being player 2.  As long as he was at the other’s side, nothing else really mattered to him.

While Satoru navigated the game’s menu and set everything up, Suguru contemplated his question.  He pressed the back of his skull against the wall behind him, his gaze darting up towards the ceiling.

❝  —-A few years ago, maybe?  I don’t know… I’ve had experiences with both, so I wouldn’t really say I have a preference for one over the other.  It’s always been about the person, themselves… if that makes any sense. ❞

Now it was Suguru’s turn to feel a bit exposed; vulnerable, in the midst of such a confession.  He scratched nervously at the back of his head before continuing.

❝ My parents don’t know about any of it, though. They don’t know much about me at all, actually.  Coming here and getting to learn about all of the stuff I’ve had to pretend I don’t see, or even know about, has been… eye opening. ❞

At that, he cast his gaze back towards Satoru… locking eyes with him, before finding himself distracted by the other’s exposed collarbone.  Suguru’s lips parted as his focus drifted away from his past; instead, he became preoccupied by each breath Satoru took.  The way his chest would rise and fall… 

❝ …..Which is...--- also why I think you should fight back against your clan’s wishes. ❞  Suguru forced himself to concentrate on the conversation at hand, violet eyes boring directly into the depths of Satoru’s blue. ❝ With all of that arranged marriage talk from before, I mean.  It doesn’t seem like your family knows you all that well, either. ❞

Suguru chanced a small, sad, and all too understanding smile at him, before finally remembering to pick out his own car for the races they were about to play out.

❝ I know you don’t want to focus on it right now, though, so we don’t have to talk about it.  Especially if you don’t want to.  But I’m here, if you ever…. need to. ❞

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[selvepnea]

Feeling. Weird...

[lackadaisycats]

I hope you know that literally nobody is going to be able to live up to the standard you, V*v, and Glitch have set and your arrogance and exploitation of your fanbase and connections has screwed millions of creatives out of their dreams because Hollywood is a joke that isn't worth telling and wealthy e-celebs like yourself have claimed the indie scene all to yourselves and moved the goalposts into the stratosphere.

Nope. This isn't a zero sum game. There is not some limited, prescribed number of indie trophy slots that a few studios greedily filled up, blocking everyone else out. That is not how it works. Nothing any other creator is doing - short of personally sending hired goons to your doorstep or stealing your credit cards - is taking anything away from you or preventing your success. In fact if an indie creator can manage to demonstrate that they've got something viable going, it may help to map out a pathway for others.

I think I'm not going to bother trying to address whether or not cartoons in return for support from fans - an entirely voluntary exchange - constitutes exploitation. And I'm living in the Midwest driving a 2007 economy car with 200k+ miles on it, but let's just skip past the assumptions that I'm wealthy and connected too.

Instead, let's get to the weirdly myopic notion that the indie scene is held captive by three studios. Maybe YouTube algorithms or Twitter bubbles are somewhat to blame, but in actuality there are so, so many individual people, friend groups, and small production houses out there making independent animation, I cannot possibly name them all.

Here are some anyway:

Far-Fetched Worthikids Satina | Scumhouse Noodle and Bun Punch Punch Forever Ramshackle Noodle Papajoolia | Pipi Angel Hare | The East Patch Jonni Peppers Salad Fingers Monkey Wrench Studio Heartbreak Felix Colgrave JelloApocalypse Odd1sout (started indie, got picked up by Netflix) Allie Mehner JaidenAnimations Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy Cloudrise | The Worlds Divide Telepurte RubberRoss James Lee ENA Godspeed | Olan Rogers Ollie and Scoops Meat Canyon Port by the Sea Kekeflipnote Boxtown Kevin Temmer Weebl Joel Haver CircleToons Long Gone Gulch Atlas and the Stars Animist Skibidi Toilet A Fox in Space Alex Henderson Talon Toniko Pantoja Sr. Pelo Hullabaloo Kane Pixels (started indie, picked up by A24) Homestar Runner Fennah Gods' School Alan Becker Dungeon Flippers JazLyte Psychicpebbles (started indie, Smiling Friends picked up by AS) Piemations vewn Metal Family Dead Sound chluaid Jacknjellify Betsy Lee | No Evil My Pride Cranbersher GeoExe | Gwain Saga Horatio the Vampire Mech West Playground | Rodrigo Sousa The Brave Locomotive Finchwing (+ many other Warrior Cats animators) Quazies SamBakZa Kamikaze: Trial by Fire

By no means a full list. That's just YouTube, and mostly just English language stuff, and I didn't even get to the multitudes of Warrior Cats animation collabs.

The point is, the indie landscape is vast and populated by creators new and old, making all kinds of animated media from skits, to shows, to ARGs, to films. Audience sizes vary as much as the content, stylistic approaches, subject matter, and budgets do. There are no compliance standards, no gateways to entry, no goalposts. There's not even any preset definition of success except what you decide for yourself.

Anyway, instead of nurturing your resentments, consider making something. I assure you, it's a far more rewarding use of your time and energy, and pretty much no one can stop you. ------------- EDIT- Made some additions to the list based on comments. Thanks!

[moonikabear]

I'm ready for captain harry McHowls. where's the book