#it was partially inspired by fever dreams

[jalicecookie]

Veloci-Shark

Merry Christmas and a little Christmas Gift for @qu1cks1lversb1tch and the inspiring Work Mother Shark - i hope you like it and have happy and peaceful Holidays <3

picture by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more 

Your eyes opened at the high, joyful giggle and your eyes searched for the source in complete confusion for a Moment. It was a sound that didn't fit in with the environment or your surroundings…

"Mommy! Show Sharkys!" - a gentle tug on your right hand made you look down.

Directly at a small child who evidently had many facets of you in her, you could see the enthusiastic smile on the features of her face, a birthmark under the left eyelid that looked so similar to yours but… there were the eyes… that weren't your own… one eye was red and the other had the turquoise accent of… almost like the smile of your partner Vox.

And then a Velociraptor stuffed animal with colorful… hearts on its snout and tail was held in front of your face.

The little girl seemed… to be absolutely thrilled for whatever reason… but why… and had she just called you Mommy?

That's interesting because…..

"I see you don't share our daughter's enthusiasm, huh Doll?"

Your heart skips a beat and of course you recognize from the choice of words and tone, that Vox is approaching you and his familiar perfume reaches your senses , before your partner teasingly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.

For a brief moment , you look away from the girl who absolutely wants to show you the decorated stuffed animal, over to the love of your afterlive in hell and you immediately notice, that something is different about Vox… that he seems somehow different.

No, he didn't suddenly start borrowing a part of Valentino's wardrobe, something in his gaze was different… in the expression in his eyes.

Vox was now completely focused on the child, who proudly said the same words to him and repeated the gesture and seemed very proud of the stuffed animal in her hands and… by the seven rings of hell… now you can also watch how Vox… your Vox… your partner… the TV overlord… crouches down and tries to make sense of the child's partially incoherent words.

And then Vox was even allowed, to touch the little decorated hearts on the stuffed animal.

"Auntie Vel helped! Hearts… pretty now"

You couldn't help but frown… was that a dream or was Velvette experimenting with her love potion again?

You…didn't have a child…the girl didn't seem to be 3 years old and Vox was playing the attentive father…....what?.....did you had tried to find a loophole…a way to circumvent the natural laws of hell…your baby fever had risen very high lately, so high that one afternoon Vox caught you trying, to explain to the two sharks of the Overlord that they shouldn't fight over food and that they should get along as brothers…there was no way this could be real. Could it?

"Raptor say hi! Sharkys say hi! Mommy!" - the girl tried to grab your left hand and playfully pull you further , towards the thick wall of the Aquarius of the sharks.

"Three sharks? There… were never three sharks and I am convinced , that there have never been genetically modified raptors in hell… that disguise themselves as sharks?" , you murmur as the small shark catches your eye… it was clearly different from the two adult ones and you were sure, that Vox would not simply integrate a new shark into the existing pack… especially not with the pronounced food jealousy of one of the sharks.

Despite the circumstances, you do not let go of the small hand and try to understand the connection, between the girl's half-spoken words.

Apparently the new shark , was one that Velvette bought them for the toddler's first birthday?

"Shark Velvette! Velvette, Raptor HI!" - the girl said happily and you had to laugh heartily.

Did the girl really name the shark, which was clearly male, after Velvette?

“Should we tell her , that Velvette the shark is actually a male?”, you said happily as you looked at Vox.

“You can try, but this little lady is stubborn… I wonder where she got it from?”, a teasing smile played on Vox’s lips as he gave you this answer.

You could be stubborn too.

And something inside you , had no doubt, that this child could also be very stubborn.

Which was proven to you at dinner time later that day.

You don’t question , why this hallucination seems so strange to you… or this dream, it is far too realistic and beautiful for you to want to notice anything… your role as a mother warms your heart and seeing how sensitively and lovingly , Vox deals with the stubborn girl who absolutely does not want to eat the peas and stubbornly crossed her Arms in front of her chest, even as Vox tries to feed her with a spoon.

You don't know how many days pass, but a routine quickly sets in.

It's easy for you to get used to this new everyday life, to take care of the girl and to find out more information, about this version of yourself… an almost daily visit to the sharks - not on the metal cross for feeding (which is still carried out by underpaid Vox workers) was an integral part of everyday life.

And so it is today.

The quiet notification tone from Vox's smartphone is drowned out by the child's high-pitched giggles and you can hardly take your eyes off the excited bundle of energy that, as always, is holding the raptor plush toy in its hands and walking towards it with clumsy steps.

“We need an extension for the Aquarium if Velvette gives us another shark for baby number 2", - whispered Vox gently in your ear, while your little daughter enthusiastically, slaps the shatterproof glass of the aquarium with one hand and enthusiastically waves the stuffed animal back and forth with the other hand, to get the attention of the much smaller shark (which swims curiously to the wall of the large aquarium.

“Yes, that… wait, Vox, did you just say baby number 2… does that mean…?”

You don’t need to finish the sentence, the TV overlord lovingly places a hand on the fabric of your top to answer a non-verbal yes to the incomplete question… are you expecting a second child?

A little sibling for this happy toddler?

You didn’t know how that was possible, but the joy in your heart doubled… this life… was so full of unexpected happy turns.

And when you looked into your partner’s eyes, you could see the anticipation and pride in it.

A family… you will be a family and you could experience everything from the beginning, together with Vox… it would be so indescribably beautiful and…

Suddenly, an electrifying tingling sensation shot through your body, and then, all of a sudden, your world seemed to start to crumble around you.

First the side walls of the huge aquarium shattered and with a loud bang you could only see the masses of water rushing towards you.

You can still feel Vox reacting lightning fast, grabbing your arm with one hand and grabbing the little girl with the other hand, before he uses his powers of jumping from surveillance camera to surveillance camera to get you all out of the danger zone.

The sound of the water and breaking glass sounded unnaturally loud in your ears and you wanted to wrap your arms protectively around your partner and your daughter… but your vision blurred, everything went black and then you felt warm…inside....it was terrible… strange voices mixed into this chaos.

"Patient is conscious again. Updating vital and bio functions… let Mr. Vox know she´s more stable now please"

The nurse tried to calm you down, repeating like a mantra , that Mr. Vox would be coming soon and that he had already sent flowers in the last few days.

"You got an electric shock, while changing a light bulb in the V-Tower, you fell off the ladder, hit your head and lost consciousness. You are in the Pride Ring hospital… please calm down"

For a brief moment your world stood completely still. You stared at a point on the opposite wall of the hospital bed.

It

Was

Not

Real

NOT

REAL!

And in an agonizing scream full of pain, grief and confusion at this realization, you didn't notice how Vox… your Vox pushed himself into the hospital room and tried to get to your side.

The nurse's next words reached your ear like cotton wool , while tears ran down your cheeks.

"Confusion and emotional turmoil is a common side effect after such an incident, Mr. Vox… it will pass soon"

The pain didn't subside… it only gained in intensity.

Like a world that had never been yours.

And this pain splintered your logical thinking and perception for a moment so intensely , that it lay like a heavy coat over your body and you gasped for air in panic, when all you wanted to do was scream all your suffering out of your undead soul.

You want to go back! Please… just go back and… and…

“A sedative…..usual procedure- said the nurse and something got into your bloodstream, Vox’s face came into view and while hot tears continued to run down your face, you only felt his hand on yours….before another dream and the sleep that came with it brought you to your knees.

And you had a dreamless sleep. You were not, not transported back to this world , that you got used to so quickly.

It was completely black around you… and so… so quiet.

In your sleep, a quiet whimper escaped you and you couldn't see, how Vox looking at you thoughtfully and confused, as the following words slipped out of your mouth unconsciously.

"Velico-Shark……"

THE END

[graveposting]

now that i'm no longer suffering from being very sick for an entire week. i want to maybe write another tcoaal fic but also i've been really wanting to write a completely different and unrelated (original) thing about weird poison-induced incest and dragons, this is a time conflict problem...

[bitter69uk]

Released on this day (5 October 1934) 90 years ago: Cleopatra, visionary director Cecil B DeMille’s lushly opulent and risqué account of the life and loves of Cleopatra VII. DeMille tells his story in 105-minutes – a model of concision compared to the to the bloated 1963 version starring Liz’n’Dick, which is a ponderous, mind-numbing four hours and twenty minutes long! The 1934 interpretation also offers the most sumptuous Art Deco of screen Cleopatras. (Which makes sense, because the Art Deco aesthetic was at least partially inspired by ancient Egyptian imagery). The Motion Picture Production Code came into effect during production, so the eroticism DeMille - the undisputed maestro of kinky pagan spectacle - was able to sneak past the censors is impressive. (We see exposed female nipples in the opening credits!). Claudette Colbert makes for a coolly calculating and seductive Cleopatra. Her slinky and revealing ensembles (heavy on gold lamé and exposed flesh) are by costumier Travis Banton, the genius who also dressed Paramount’s other divas like Marlene Dietrich and Mae West. His creations all seem to focus attention on Colbert’s boobs, and weirdly anticipate the wild looks Bob Mackie would create for Cher in the seventies. Bear in mind the durable Colbert made It Happened One Night, Imitation of Life and Cleopatra all in the same year – an amazing accomplishment for any actress. As Marc Antony, rugged British leading man Henry Wilcoxon matches Colbert for pulchritude and sex appeal (those togas sure showcase his muscled thighs). The sequence where Cleopatra initiates Marc Antony into Egyptian-style hedonism on her gilded barge - incorporating legions of homoerotic baby-oiled gladiators, slave boys in loincloths and semi-naked female concubines waving peacock feathers - is a fever dream of orgiastic Golden Age Hollywood depravity!

[birinboom]

7 (👀 i see you’ve listed a deku fic as a project!! 👀👀👀), 55, and 72 for the fanfic ask game! ✨✨✨

Thank you so much for asking! 💖💖💖 I’m sorry to tell you though that the Deku fic is still only a draft (I’ll never get it finished for New Year’s 😅) so I’ll post a different WIP snippet at the end.

55. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics?  Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

I’ve noticed that I use the phrase ‘couldn’t help but __’ a lot. I know that I also use nature themes a lot, but generally I’m really bad at noticing these kinds of things 😅 Have any of you noticed patterns that keep reappearing in my fics? 👀👀

72. What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

I’ve gotten quite a few sweet comments like ‘didn’t know I needed this’ and ‘omg you should all read this!!’ but one of the ones that really sticks out to me is a comment that my writing was (partially) the reason a reader started writing again. The feeling that I’ve inspired someone that much - even if I was only one part of a bigger bout of inspiration - really makes me happy 🥹

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

Okay, so this needs a little bit of explanation. It’s from an upcoming fic called ‘Dragon’s Heart’, a fantasy fic with human!reader and dragon!Kirishima. The reader has been poisoned and has been suffering from high fevers and delirium and Kiri has been taking care of them for several days at this point.

「The first thing you noticed, as you fought to pull your mind from the depth of sleep, was Eijirou’s soft voice. It rose and fell, repeating the same pattern again and again. It took your addled mind a while to realize that he was singing to himself, and even longer before you could make out the words of his song.

Frigid winds are howling Ravens cry and wolves are prowling Seeking food and seeking rest Snowflakes fall, the cold is stinging In the trees no birds are singing Taking shelter in their nests

It slowly dawned on you why your fever dreams were full of the cries of birds and wolves, he must have been singing this exact song while you slept. Staying still, you listened as he drew in a deep breath, then continued,

All around are yearning For the warmth, yet frost is burning Still the wind blows from the North Come South-West who bests the winter Earth will thaw and ice will splinter  As she guides the springtime forth

Springtime. You could barely wait for spring. Eyes slowly closing again, you fell back asleep, your mind filled with the image of dots of vibrant green and yellow peeking out through the snow.」

Not sure when I’ll get this finished, I’ve been working on it for years at this point 😅

The song is a very loose translation of a Danish folk song called ‘It Is White Outside’ (‘Det Er Hvidt Herude’ by St. St. Blicher). I’m so sad that I couldn’t include the part about South-West and their wings of fog. It literally goes ‘come South-West who bests the frost / come with your wings of fog / come and release the bound earth’ (Kom sydvest som frosten tvinger / kom med dine tågevinger / kom og løs den bundne jord)

Fanfiction writing asks

[roosterbruiser]

what inspired cruel summer?

it’s seriously probably the best fic i’ve ever read (and i’ve read a lot lol) but there’s just so much detail and intense plot points and i have no idea how you came up with all of it

first of all, I'm elated at your kind words. thank you so much. it is truly so humbling and exciting when people tell me they love Cruel Summer! so thank you so so so so so so much!

secondly--what a question!

I am a horror girl through and through. I love every type of horror movie, but have always been partial to slashers and supernatural stories. figured I could make a love child with the both of them and make this story.

I'm also so inspired by past decades--especially the 1980s. what a peculiar time!

I feel like when I think of the 80s, I think of kinky hair and colorful taffeta and scrunchies and Cyndi Lauper. but there was also something so horrific about it, too! ultra conservatism combined with the satanic panic and the threat of nuclear warfare...I mean, what a fever dream!

I was definitely inspired by 80s slashers like Friday the 13th, but I was also heavily inspired by modern horror and its take on grief as the central antagonist. plus the imagery of blood and guts in movies like Blood Feast and Assassination Nation.

super inspired by the images of nostalgic summer camp, especially as someone who was a camp counselor for three years! and the thought of being responsible for so many lives under such dire circumstances!

at the end of the day, I'm a pretty rotten-flower writer (which is what I call it when writers write a beautiful scene and juxtapose it with foul language or themes) and literal nature inspires me a lot.

plus humans just inspire me. touching noses with another human when we love them, putting cotton over cuts when we're injured, salt leaking from our eyes when we're sad--it's all so intriguing.

[globalworship]

a blessing for the life you didn't choose

This is written by Kate Bowler, PhD, who is a New York Times bestselling author, podcast host, and a professor at Duke University. She posted this on her website at https://katebowler.com/blessings/a-blessing-for-the-life-you-didnt-chose/

a blessing for the life you didn't choose Blessed are you when the shock subsides, when vaguely, you see a line appear that divides before and after. You didn’t draw it, and can barely even make it out. But as surely as minutes add up to hours and days, here you are, forced into a story you never would have written. Blessed are you in the tender place of wonder and dread, Wondering how to be whole when dreams have disappeared and part of you with them, where mastery, control, determination, bootstrapping, and grit, are consigned to the realm of before (where most of the world lives), in the fever dream that promises infinite choices, unlimited progress, best life now. Blessed are we in the after, loudly shouting: is there anybody here? We hear the echo, the shuffle of feet, the murmur of others asking the same question, together in the knowledge that we are far beyond what we know. Show us a glimmer of possibility in this new constraint, that small truths will be given back to us. We are held. We are safe. We are loved. We are loved. We are loved. And best of all: We are not alone.

+++

Read about Kate's journey with Stage 4 cancer, which partially inspired her blessing -poem above, at https://www.npr.org/2018/02/12/585066841/a-stage-4-cancer-patient-shares-the-pain-and-clarity-of-living-scan-to-scan

[robinrunsfiction]

OTPTOBER - Modern AU

Author’s Note: They say don’t kill your darlings, but I’ll be honest, this was on death row. This was the origins of the WIP I refer to as��“the normal AU” but that has expanded and gone so far from here that this no longer fits the narrative of that story. So I had I marked to be deleted, and then things clicked in my mind, at least partially inspired by @thewordworrier​’s Modern AU for this same challenge. Enjoy!

🖤🖤🖤

Lux blinked her eyes at the bright morning sunshine filling the room. Her head was spinning as she sat up and tried to figure out where she was. But at least her ears weren't ringing. That was oddly nice, she couldn’t remember the last time they weren’t.

As her brain began to settle, she took in her immediate surroundings. She had been laying on a couch, wrapped in a plush blanket, but there wasn't a couch in the diner. Then it dawned on her, she wasn't in the diner. Panic struck through her as she tried to untangle herself from the blanket around her legs, stumbling to her feet. The window was filled with leafy green plants, soaking up the sun, and the room was warm and cozy. She stumbled unsteadily until she found her way to the kitchen, opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass. How did she know where the glasses were? She wondered, looking at the glass in her hand. Something about her hand didn’t look right, not nearly so worn and scarred. Turning to the sink, she poured herself a big glass of water and chugged it down. She noticed then how dry and sore her throat felt. What had BLI given her? Where had they taken her? Lux wracked her brain, but couldn't remember anything. 

Then she spotted a small radio on the counter. Looking it over, she turned it on and a familiar voice came through the speaker. "You're here with me, Doctor D, on 109.1 FM. Checking on the traffic, the usual backups are building on the 405, and there is an accident blocking things out on Vine."

Lux shook her head, turning the radio off. That was Dr. Death Defying's voice, but that wasn't the sort of traffic report he usually gave. There was nothing about dracs or scarecrows unit sightings, killjoys getting dusted, or even a weather report.

"Hey, feeling better?" The voice startled her, making her jump, dropping the radio back onto the counter.

"Kobra!" She gasped. 

He looked at her, confused. "What? Mercy, are you okay?"

She took a step back, her heart rate picking up as her back hit the cool metal of the refrigerator. "What did you just call me?"

"Mercy, are you still running a fever? I can call Gerard and Shelly and tell them we aren't gonna make it over for dinner tonight?"

Shelly…Gerard… The names started to clear the fog in her mind. She shook her head and looked at the man standing across from her. "Mikey?"

"Yea?"

She shook her head again, pressing her hands against her eyes. "Shit, I'm sorry babe. I think I was still half asleep. I had the most vivid, wild dream. You and me and Shell and Gee and Frank and Ray, everyone was there. But we weren’t ourselves, we were like… rebels! And we lived in the desert and everything was so colorful! We fought against these bad guys that wanted everything to be white and sterile. Fuck, I feel like I lived a whole lifetime there.”

"You did crash really hard after you took nyquil last night, I'll make some coffee," he said, with a smile as he walked across the kitchen, and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I think your fever finally broke. You should really write all that down, it sounds like a good idea for something."

"Yea, I suppose you're right," she nodded as she watched him work. She felt herself continue to wake up, the familiar, comfortable feeling of domesticity comforted her. "Did you feed Josie?"

"Yea, while you were still asleep, so she’s probably napping."

Mercy nodded before pacing back into the living room, picking up the blanket she'd left strewn on the floor and grabbed her pillow, taking them back to the bedroom. Josie, their big Maine coon stretched in the patch of sunlight she was napping in. Mercy gave her a quick scratch behind the ears when Mikey walked in with two mugs of coffee. 

"Ohh thank you," Mercy murmured, taking a sip. "That feels good."

"Is your throat still sore?" Mikey asked, sitting on his side of the bed.

Mercy climbed into her side of the bed and pulled up the blankets as best she could without disrupting the large feline at her feet, setting her coffee down on her bedside table. "A little raw. But I'm not very congested anymore."

“You’re sure you’re feeling up to going today?”

“Yea, I feel better than yesterday for sure.”

“Good,” Mikey smiled. "I don’t like having to sleep apart from you.”

“I was in the living room, ya softie,” she laughed. “How are you ever gonna get on with your next tour without me?”

“I’ll just have to bring you along,” he smiled at her. Mercy rolled her eyes before snuggling into his side.

“Good thing I love you,” she mumbled.

“I agree, I’m very lucky,” he laughed lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

[archivistsammy]

Stackednatural Wrapped

well. 327 episodes and 257 days later, stackednatural has ended. 

let’s recap.

there were 87 days with two or more episodes, for which katharine created 104 comparison gif sets and a video. plus an additional six gif sets and a video connecting either some but not all of the day’s episodes or episodes that aired on different days. all found here. 

combined with six gif sets and two videos made for single episodes, the grand total comes to 120 stackednatural edits. 

not even gonna count our combined non-edit stacks found here. 

a few highlights and observations from katharine under the cut.

many of the parallels drawn were fairly innocuous. others induced major brain worms, such as:

october 1 - 5.4 // 6.2 - dean reckoning with his becoming a version of himself he does not want to be

october 12 - 2.3 // 13.1 - #notallmonsters merry-go-round

october 17 - 8.3 // 15.2 - sam and amara (and, by that token, dean and chuck; see also: january 16)

february 1 - 2.13 // 13.12 - sam hitting his faith limits

april 20 - 1.20 // 7.19 - bobby > john

may 15 - 3.16 // 8.23 - same point, opposite argument

a handful of stacks were so powerful that they became MEGA stacks:

november 1 - 3.5 “bedtime stories” // 14.4 “mint condition”

january 23 - 8.11 “larp and the real girl” // 15.10 “the heroes’ journey”

february 7 - 1.14 “nightmare” // 3.10 “dream a little dream of me” // 14.13 “lebanon”

april 1 - 5.16 “dark side of the moon” // 10.17 “inside man”

may 3 - 2.20 “what is and what should never be” // 13.21 “beat the devil”

non-stacked honorable mentions:

1.4 “phantom traveler” // 8.1 “we need to talk about kevin”

4.4 “metamorphosis” // 8.2 “what’s up, tiger mommy?”

15.16 “drag me away (from you)” // 4.6 “yellow fever” // 3.4 “sin city” // 14.3 “the spear”

9.10 “road trip” // 12.1 “keep calm and carry on”

*looks down* *smiles shyly* if you wanted to tell us YOUR favorite or most brain-worm-inducing post(s), our ask box is open. 

stackednatural also inspired a number of meta reflections, including:

sam believing he needs someone to serve as his moral compass. and how that works both with and against his role as keeper of the faith. believing he can determine an alternate solution while not believing in himself. and how this dynamic plays out between not only sam and dean but also sam and cas. 

sam’s ambivalence about sharing the monsters-are-real secret. with him repeatedly saying it is safer for people to never learn the truth (2.12, 12.15, 14.16). admitting that he wishes he never learned the truth (1.18, 5.6). never telling jess. never telling amelia. shocked that dean told cassie. and yet sam apparently told several people as a kid (4.13, 5.12). resents dean and john for repeatedly keeping him out of the loop. is uncomfortable with doing the same to jack. 

the sheer number of times dean tells someone that they are not themselves or who they say they are or who others perceive them to be. dean is chief of performativity and thus main arbiter of identity, apparently. 

finally, a partial list of episodes we would prefer to never watch again: 6.8, 8.4, 8.15, 9.4, 9.20, 10.15, 11.19, 12.5, 12.9, 13.11, 13.15, 14.16, 15.19, 15.20

if you joined us for any or all of this journey—hey, look at us. if you had no clue what stackednatural was and put up or even engaged with our posting anyway, condolences. and thank you x

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Tepid Bath

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #23

Fandom/OCs: Hannibal TV

Title: Need You Now

Words: 1402

Inspiration: The phrase “I can smell that fever on you” originally came (I believe) from @victoriablackrose and her witcher fics! 

Author’s comments: Much more dark and angsty than yesterday’s fill, but always with a happy ending. It was only fitting to make both of the murder husbands sick this month if I was going to write them twice, so today enjoy the sick, pathetic wet kitten that is Will Graham when he’s missing Hannibal. Set in the same post-canon cottagecore AU as yesterday’s fic. 

Will was in bed when Hannibal returned. He had been in bed for… a while. It was hard to be sure how long. Since he'd fallen into the river, whenever that was. At least a few days, he thought. 

Everything was hazy. Will, alone, wandering around the frozen river, trying to find a good spot for ice fishing. Tired. He never slept well without Hannibal (hardly slept at all, really) and Hannibal had been gone for over a month on one of his mysterious trips. 

Will, out on the ice. Not paying close enough attention. The sudden crack, the splash that at first seemed distant and separate from him, until he felt the cold. Cold, hot, cold, numb. His body didn't know how to respond to the frigid water. He briefly feared for his life as his legs refused to move, to save himself from drowning. But at last he could kick, so he kicked against the rushing water and his wet, heavy clothes. He broke the ice with his arms until he reached a spot where he could stand and walk up the bank. 

He felt as if he were watching himself from a distance as he made his numb, shivering way back to their cottage, almost a mile away. His limbs were barely responsive, frozen as his blood seemed to be, so walking was more than difficult through the deep snow, but he also felt cold, stinging pain over his whole body. His teeth rattled in his head. His arms were locked around his torso in a futile attempt to retain any non-existent body heat. 

He reached the cottage somehow. Unlocking the door was almost the hardest part as he couldn't feel his hands and couldn't hold them still. Somehow he managed that, too, though. He stripped off his frozen clothes the minute he was in the door, frightened at the unnatural, waxy color of his skin. He staggered into the bathroom and started the shower as hot as it would go. 

The shower brought him back to life, at least for a few moments. He could feel again. He could think again. His skin turned pink, then red. He wiggled all his joints, focusing on the sensation. 

Eventually the hot water ran out, so he was forced to leave the shower. He bundled himself into several layers and considered starting a fire in the fireplace, but instead decided to rest for a while in bed. He thought it would be just a nap. He thought he was just tired. He slipped into sleep, wrapped in several blankets, and did not wake again for a long time. 

He partially woke more than once. The dreams would become more solid, and he would realize that he was at home in bed. He would listen for Hannibal, needing him, and be disappointed when he realized he was still alone. It would occur to him that he should eat, or see to his chores, or shower again, but before he could act on these thoughts, the tides of unconsciousness would pull him under once more. 

He was so, so cold. From the moment the hot water had begun to peter off he had been shivering again, through both dreams and waking. He was curled into the tightest ball, wearing several layers of clothes and covered in several more layers of blankets in a well-heated house, but all he could feel was the icy river water. The dreams passed in and out of nightmares, and he wasn't sure if he cried out or just imagined it.

Somehow he knew when Hannibal arrived. There was a shift in the dreamworld. He was aware of Hannibal's presence nearly as much as he was aware of his own. Hannibal's presence was like a rope he could cling to, to help pull himself out of unconsciousness, the thing he needed now more than ever. He grasped it desperately, yanking himself past the surface of the icy river at last. 

Hannibal was speaking to him. Asking him if he was well. 

" 'm tired, Dr. Lecter," Will heard himself mumble, hardly intelligible. " 'm so cold."

"I could smell your fever the moment I walked through the door, and now I can see it, too. What happened?" Hannibal knelt at his side, solidifying even more, and Will tried to focus on his face. 

"Fell into the river. Few days ago. Broke through the ice."

Hannibal's hand on his face made him jump, but it was something else solid that he could cling to, to remain awake.

"Your fever is dangerously high. We must bring it down immediately." Hannibal spoke matter-of-factly, rising to his feet again. He turned and strode out of the room, and Will faded out once more. 

A hand on his back wakened him. The hand was forceful, pushing him to sit up, as was the other hand around his wrist pulling him forward. Hannibal’s face was hovering in front of him again as he was helped to stand. Steely strength outside of his own propelled him to the bathroom. The water in the tub was running, and it had filled about halfway. Will noted all this absently, giving it no connection to himself, until the same strong hands began to strip off his layers of clothing. The cold encroached closer and closer until he was standing naked in the bathroom and being helped into the tub, shivering so violently that he couldn’t stand on his own. 

The water was not warm. The shock of it made Will hiss in surprise and fear. He pulled back from the sensation, splashing and writhing to get away, but the strong arms behind him were unrelenting. 

“In you go, Will. This is for your own good.”

Will couldn’t bring himself to put more of his skin into the water, but he was given no choice. He was pushed down, gently but firmly, until he was lying fully in the water that to him felt freezing cold, submerged up to his neck. He struggled to get out, imagining the tiny bit of heat he’d been maintaining slowly leaching away, but Hannibal wouldn’t let him. He held him in, rubbing his chest and shoulders soothingly. Eventually Will had to stop fighting. Hannibal was still so much stronger than he. 

Will realized after a while that he was actually, finally awake. He looked at Hannibal and truly saw him for the first time. Their eyes met, and held. Many emotions flooded through Will, and he struggled to verbalize a thought.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he finally said. “I needed you.” It felt totally inadequate, yet summed up his thoughts better than anything else. 

“As am I,” the doctor replied softly. “And I’m glad to see you’ve rejoined me now too, in mind as well as body. That must mean this treatment worked. I think I’ve tortured you enough for one day.”  

A gentle hand was offered, and Will took it gratefully as he stepped out of the bath, which he realized was really tepid, not cold. Hannibal quickly helped him dress again before leading him back to bed. As soon as he was lying down, a cold rag was placed on his forehead. Will sighed in relief, realizing the cool was now pleasant, rather than painful. Lastly, Hannibal handed him a handful of pills and a glass of water, both of which Will swallowed gratefully. 

“Thank you,” Will whispered earnestly, meeting Hannibal’s eyes. “I guess you’ve saved me again.”

Hannibal chuckled fondly. “As always, it was my pleasure. Though by my reckoning, we’re fairly even on that score. I’m glad I returned when I did, and I won’t be leaving you alone again any time soon if this is what you get up to when I’m gone. I won’t even be able to leave this house for the next few days until we get that fever under control, and all this could have been avoided if I’d been here when you had your accident in the first place, so you see where I’ve landed us.” The pair shared a warm smile, though Will’s was decidedly sleepy. Hannibal squeezed his hand. 

“You can go back to sleep now. I’m watching over you.” 

That was all the permission Will needed. He let his eyes slip closed and the dreamworld was waiting to meet him with open arms as he slept deeply for the first time in weeks. 

[cryptidmads]

alright, so i went through the ama with wan hazmer and daim dziauddian on twitch and picked out every little tidbit i could about the megastars bc i knew you guys would want to know. this is a long post and i’m on mobile atm so i can’t put it under a read more — sorry about that! bosses are in chronological order, starting with DJSS and ending with Eve!

DJ SUBATOMIC SUPERNOVA

- djss took the least amount of time to develop out of all the bosses (haz says his fight took about half a year.)

- daim purposely tried to make djss' name as long as he could. he was specifically looking at negasonic teenage warhead from deadpool for inspiration.

- haz and daim do have the briefing/kliffnotes for djss. they discussed sharing them at some point, but idk when that would happen.

- related to the above, daim says that dj is in his mid thirties. EDIT: his kliffnotes were shared on twitter and they say he’s 41. daim must have goofed haha

- when asked if djss actually has a face and how he eats, daim compares it to kenny from south park and how you never see his face. he thinks dj does have a face in there, but that we just never see it. as for the “how does he eat” part, daim says that sometimes they don’t have to show everything.

- daim is a djneon/neonnova shipper, and it’s one his favourite pairings alongside zuke/mayday.

- daim said that uncle ali basically instantly landed the role as djss. he was that good.

SAYU

- sayu was obviously inspired by hatsune miku and other vocaloids, but haz brings up one particular commercial involving miku and google chrome, which involves a bunch of people collborating on songs and concept art for miku, similar to how sayu started as a collab between remi and tila in-universe.

- someone asked about the models for sayu's crew's apartments. there wasn't much on that, but haz mentions that one of his favourite nsr fanfics (yes, he reads them) is "Road to Redemption," and there's a scene that takes place in a studio where the crew works on sayu, and he really likes that.

- the devs wanted sayu's name to sound both malay and japanese at the same time (as well as a nod to miku). haz says it means “warm water” in japanese.

- akusuka is a direct copy of akihabara in terms of locale.

- sayu’s shellfish commercial is a homage to a real snack in malaysia named mamee monster, which is hugely popular with kids. the format of the commercial itself was inspired by a pocky commercial that featured hatsune miku.

YINU

- her game design (for her boss fight) was partially done in ms paint by music director falk (who made the base version of her boss theme)

- yinu's mom doesn't have a name. she's just mother/mama.

- haz confirmed that yinu's father is, in fact, dead.

- daim thought yinu’s name was a nod to yuna (a popular malaysian artist). it’s not.

- natura is daim’s favourite district. he likes how calm it is compared to the others.

- daim said that they wanted a hint of hope in all three of yinu’s backstory photographs, to show that no matter how bad your life gets, there’s always that glimmer of hope and that good things can still happen.

1010

- the members of 1010 do not have any official names.

- the assets for the autographs were made by the artists at one of the partner companies working with metronomik on nsr. haz and daim didn't really have anything to do with making them, and while daim did approve them for the final game, he was sorta skimming through a bunch of assets along with the autographs, and he didn't realize what they really were at the time until later. haz is impressed with how the fans managed to decipher them.

- 1010's fight was purposefully put between yinu's and eve's as a break from the emotional stuff.

- michael jackson was used as a reference for 1010's animations/moves.

- the Bio Tactical Shield that you get for zuke after beating 1010 is a reference to BTS.

- tangibly related, but the collectable figurines are supposed to serve more as a backstory to vinyl city as a whole, rather than 1010 or neon j. daim describes the figures as what events were going on and what people were doing before the events of nsr.

- 1010’s appearance from older trailers (where they all looked the same) were actually placeholders. 1010’s actual designs weren’t finished yet when those trailers were released.

- parts of 1010’s designs (for their bodies/outfits) were inspired by tron uprising, a project that daim worked on.

- somebody asked why 1010 and neon j have sculpted butt plates. daim and haz have no idea, but daim suggested that ellie (who designed 1010) and jan (who did their character models) put them there to up the “sexy robot” factor.

- daim’s favourite member of 1010 is purl-hew/blue, and haz’s favourite is eloni/green.

- the members of 1010 were designed based on popular tropes in boy bands. rin/white is “the main guy,” zimelu/red is the “bad boy,” purl-hew/blue is the “cool guy,” haym/yellow is the “young/innocent one,” and eloni/green is the “weird/funny one.”

- eloni/green not getting fan mail was based on how the “funny guy” of kpop bands/idol groups don’t seem to get as much attention as the rest of the group.

NEON J

- haz and daim didn't expect neon j to become so popular. haz joked about blaming it on ddaddystar, who did that doodle of djss and neon j from the credits.

- when asked about neon j’s age, daim said he’s definitely older than djss, and that he could be in his forties.

- related to the age thing, someone in chat said he should be older if he went to war in the sixties. haz replied by saying they never mentioned what year the game takes place in, so it doesn’t necessarily take place in the present/2020.

- a lot of people asked about the border wars, and daim and haz said they like leaving the bulk of it up to fan interpretation.

- daim said that neon j’s organs were preserved in a robotic shell after the war, and that’s why he’s considered a cyborg.

- as stated above, daim is a djneon/neonnova shipper, and it’s one his favourite pairings alongside zuke/mayday.

- neon j’s monologue was slightly longer, but it was cut down because zul (neon j’s va) didn’t do very many takes for the monologue, and the takes he did do didn’t have the comedic punch that daim was looking for, so it got shortened.

- the singing parts of neon j’s lines were ad-libbed by zul in his audition, and daim liked it so much that it stayed for the final game.

- neon j’s monologue had to be altered in the japanese dub so that the jokes/comedy would make more sense.

EVE

- the color changing paintings from her boss fight were created by accident.

- eve was put as the last boss because of how emotional her relationship with zuke was and how complicated and intricate she is as a whole compared to the rest of the bosses.

- daim considers eve to be the "final boss" for zuke, while tatiana is the final boss for mayday.

- eve took the longest to develop out of all the bosses. she was orignally a lot more complicated, and daim said they had to "filter" a lot of things about her in order to tone her down and fit her into the game.

- eve was almost scrapped from the game. daim said her concept as an eccentric artist wasn't as well known as the other four bosses’ concepts, and combine that with how long it took to finalize her... yeah.

- none of the artists have set in stone heights because of how the gameplay works, but eve is the tallest one. the closest scene in the game that has them at their actual heights is the ending.

- her name was originally eva, but it was changed bc there’s already a popular artist with the same name.

- daim explains that a big part of eve’s concept and theme is her embracing herself. he uses the example of eve’s backstory where she starts out hating herself and trying to cover the pink half of her face, but then starts doing less of that overtime. he also mentions that all the body parts (hands, arms, legs, etc.) from her fight also come from her embracing her body and using it in her artwork.

- dream fever is haz’s favourite district.

- daim didn’t originally think of zuke and eve as being an actual couple until later down the line when the story heavily implied it.

- eve’s younger designs were done by lzbros, who did all the 2d animation for the game.

[pascalpanic]

Popping Pearls and Purple Skies (Din Djarin x f!reader)

Summary: While in your home system, Din takes you to your home planet for your favorite treat.

W/C: 3.6k

Warnings: food mention, Star Wars cursing lol, mentions of physical fighting, mentions of trauma

A/N: okay. this was inspired by me thinking Grogu would love popping boba bc he loved the frog lady’s eggs so much!! I hope I did it okay :) Siruus, reader’s home planet, is supposed to be a mishmash of cultures, none specifically, I just picked cool elements from a variety of cultures!

One of the delights you missed most from your home planet was, you discovered, practically unattainable on any other planet. You’d scoured far and wide, hoping maybe you’d cross paths with another Siruusian or an admirer of the culture, but found nothing. It was only on Siruus that you could find your favorite drink: a milky tea with popping pearls.

Din knows you miss your home. Late at night, in the hull of the ship, he’d confide that he missed his home planet too. He told you tales of growing up in Aq Vetina, the feather-light and velvety robes that he wore every day, the spicy foods his mother would cook- which later made him a great Mandalorian.

Did you know that the Mandos love spicy food, cyare? We have a whole vocabulary to describe the heat of a dish. It’s traditional. I was raised on it, and the comfort of a burning mouth was a universal sensation: one that reminded me of my real parents and my adoptive clan.

Rarely did the Mandalorian man let his guard down, but never had he completely done so like he has with you. From the moment he hired you to care for his little green son, he’d been entranced by your laughter, the smooth sound of your voice in the language you’d been raised speaking. He caught you teaching the kid some vocabulary, and he’d quiz him on it when you weren’t around. The kid couldn’t speak yet, but he could point and match words to images or objects, which he attributed entirely to you. You were the child’s primary caretaker and kindergarten teacher in one, and Din admired your care and commitment.

Something about you spoke to him, and over time he thinks he came to realize it was the fact that, though you’d never heard of The Way before meeting Din, you were the holistic ideal of a Mandalorian. You valued knowledge and valor, and though you didn’t work in the traditional Mando fields of bounty hunting or working as a warrior, you embodied another aspect: that care for children.

Watching you with the kid was what made him realize he was in love with you. He’d told you everything. When you looked over your shoulder and laughed, the baby watching you too, the gaze was a love Din has never felt but immediately recognized. It hit him and his whole body shuddered, harder than it had when the Maldo Kreis cold had seeped into his bones, even through the beskar. At the same time, he felt too warm in his own skin, like the fever he’d had as a toddler that threatened his life- he’d told you that story too.  Dank Farrik. This was not in the plan.

You had told Din all about your home planet too. You told him of the bright flowers that bloomed in the cold of winter, that released a pollen that made the birds in the area start laying their eggs. He listened intently every time, clinging to every word he told you like he’d never hear that beautiful voice again. He’d hear you singing Siruusian lullabies to the baby, and on nights you missed home.

He’d offered to take you back many times. Any time you were near, there was a standing offer to pop in for a visit. But you’ve always declined; the child and Mando would bring too much attention to your quiet little planet, you explained. That was only partially true, so you didn’t feel as bad lying by omission to Din. You’d neglected to mention, every time, that this was your life now, and more specifically that you never want to leave his side again.

Din really is something. You’d never even heard of Mandalorians before he swept you off your planet, never understood the intricate Creed and their strong beliefs. It didn’t matter to you, that you couldn’t see his face; at least at first. Of course you’d respect the slightly terrifying man’s customs.

But over time you’ve fallen for him, and that’s made everything just a little harder. The man seemingly made of steel was warm and gentle beneath it, with you and the child. He’d wrangle a bounty into the carbonite freezer then tenderly tuck a flower he found behind your ear, calling you sweet names in Mando’a that you didn’t understand. The juxtaposition of the man’s very being- covered in impenetrable, freezing metal to hide an ooey-gooey center like that of a warm pastry- was exciting and beautiful to you.

How could you not fall in love? The three of you became a little family, even as you joined Din on the quest of returning your little green son to his people. You’d treated the baby as your own son, the way Din did too. You’d tried to shepherd him away from the Frog woman’s eggs, only to find him munching on them moments later, scolded him with love and promptly hidden the container.

That day made you miss home even more. The eggs reminded you of the popping pearls you loved so much- no wonder the kid loved them. You’d never eat the Frog’s eggs, of course, but you’d sung the baby to sleep that night in the hull of the ship, another lullaby from your youth. Maybe next time you’d take Din’s offer to visit home seriously. Maybe. There was still another reason you didn’t want to return: if you came home, you weren’t sure you could leave again.

Now you’re in hyperspace, nestled into the small bunk, your child snoozing softly above you with gentle grunts and snorts of sleep. Din is up in the cockpit and you can’t sleep. You wonder if he’s awake too. Maybe you’ll go check.

Sliding on warm slippers to pad your bare feet from the cold metal of the floor, you climb the ladder to the cockpit and see Din sitting in the captain’s chair. You’re unsure if he’s awake or not; it’s hard to tell through the beskar. His shoulders shift a little as he hears you moving and you can tell he’s awake. “Hi. Couldn’t sleep,” you admit as you assume your regular position. The chairs move with the pull of a lever, and you scoot yours closer to Din and prop your feet on his arm rest.

Din nods, resting against the chair. “Me neither. The kid?”

“Asleep,” you confirm and nod, slumping down in your seat.

It’s nice and quiet between the two of you, a relaxed silence as the stars fly past and the Crest hums its low rumble of engines and filters. Just being in his presence soothes you more than being alone in that coffin of a bunk. If you think this is calming, you ponder, just his presence, imagine his arms around you while you sleep. Imagine his warm skin beneath the beskar surrounding you and radiating heat.

He’s thinking the same thing. You look impossibly soft and warm. Your plush skin prickles with the cold of the cockpit and Din wants to put an ungloved hand over it and let the heat of his flushed body sink into yours. He doesn’t. He just stares off at the stars. “We’re approaching your home system,” he murmurs softly. “Would you like to visit?”

Well damn. You hadn’t expected to be confronted with the question so soon, and you’re not quite sure how to answer. “I don’t know.”

It’s quiet again. Din’s silence invites you to speak your inner monologue, to throw your tangled thoughts into the open so he can help unknot them with his nimble mind. In response to his lack of words, which say as much as any sentence, you respond. “I haven’t been there in so long. I don’t know if I want to go back. I like my life now, and I’m scared I’ll want to stay if we visit.”

Din nods as you speak, processing the meanings of your words. “Well,” he begins, “what if I rephrase it like this: would you like us to visit?”

Us. What the kriff does that entail? The three of you, your little family, perhaps? You and Din as friends, as coworkers? Or as something more… your mind spins and you can’t make sense of it, so you give it up. “What does that mean?”

Din turns his chair to face you, moving your legs to drape across his lap. Even through the gloves, he holds back a shiver as he rests his hands atop your shins. “We’ll go, all three of us. If you like your life now, we’ll be your reminders of it.”

Your mouth curves into a warm smile, your body feeling soft and fuzzy all over. “How kind.”

“I’ll even buy you that tea you ramble about,” he offers.

Gasping in excitement, you clap your hands together. “Will you try it? Oh, Din, you’ll love it, it’s the most delicious thing in the galaxy.”

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckles through the modulator, a sound you wish you could hear without the mechanical suppressor.

Popping up, you kiss the top of his beskar-clad head in excitement before you can stop yourself. “Thank you, Din.”

“Anything for you, cyare,” he says with a certain warmth to his voice, a large hand finding your waist. “Go get some rest, lie down. We’ll be there in about half a day.”

“Only if you rest too,” you tell him and your hand rests over his. It’s the most he’s ever touched you purposefully, and now all you want is for him to slide that hand back until he’s wrapping you in his muscular arms. Din nods and you pat his forearm. “Sweet dreams.”

-

The ramp comes down and your mouth forms a soft ring in excitement. It’s a beautiful day, the nearest sun making the atmosphere the beautiful purple you grew up under. The oranges and yellows of the architecture surround you, and you instinctively clutch the Mandalorian’s hand. “Welcome to my home,” you tell him with a grin and lead him down.

Your little green child is strapped to your chest in a baby carrier, a birikad in Mando’a, and he looks around in wonder, squealing excitedly. As you walk through the streets of the small city, vendors call in Siruusian, a language Din is slowly learning from you. He thinks he recognizes a few words here or there.

Venturing to the side, a stall sells small animals made of a gorgeously embroidered fabric. You had many of these as a child; your favorite was a blue and silver bantha, an exotic animal you’d never seen before your adventures with Din. The child coos at the menagerie in front of him and you squat so he can look at them.

“Toata,” you coo in Siruusian, a word to mean little one, “can you pick the frog?”

That’s one of the words you worked on with him. A tiny, green, three-fingered hand grabs a gorgeous yellowy-brown frog and holds it up in triumph. “Good job, cutie! Aren’t you a smart little thing?” you grin and kiss his forehead. “Is that the one you want?”

Din watches from a few meters back, grinning beneath the helmet. When the child nods excitedly and squeals, he almost laughs softly at the beautiful sight. You pay for the frog and Din meanders over, the baby already chewing on a long leg of the plush.

He wants to see you like that for the rest of his life: glowing with excitement, the little kid strapped to your chest, absolutely at ease and relaxed in the place you used to call home. “You want one too?” you ask.

He shakes his head at first, but after a little haggling, Din purchases himself a copper and yellow blurrg and a mudhorn made of silver for you. The symbolism of the mudhorn, of Clan Djarin, is not lost on you. It makes your heart flit nervously around your ribcage as you wander through the market, making your little mudhorn and the baby’s frog pretend to fight. As always, the littlest member of Clan Djarin triumphs over the mighty mudhorn.

An aromatic smell wafts through the air and your face lights up to see a stand selling your favorite beverage. Din spots it too and makes his way over, getting in the line, his hand holding yours once again. This time, he initiated it. You like that. It makes you giggle and squeeze his fingers softly.

“What do you usually order?” he asks you.

You frown and scan the menu. You explain your drink to him, an orange-colored, sweet and herbal milk tea with your favorite citrusy popping pearls in the bottom. He asks what you think he’d like and you pick a drink for him: a blue, warmly-spiced milk tea with the same pearls. “It’s not the proper drink without it,” you explain.

Picking the baby from his carrier to face you, you ask him questions by the process of elimination. “Okay, toata, do you like… mushfruit?” He makes a noise of disproval. You knew he hated that one; you wanted to ensure he was listening. “No? How about…” you pretend to ponder it. “How about panga?”

The baby squeals in excitement. The green fruit has always been his favorite when you and Din require him to eat his fruit. “Wonderful, and a panga milk tea with you. Do you remember froggie’s eggs?” You ask him, pointing to the frog toy he holds. He tilts his head in confusion.

“The snackies I said no?” That clue does it. He nods, cooing and giggling. “These taste like those! You’ll love it.”

The rest of the time in the line is quiet, shuffling forward slowly to reach the stand. “Is it what you’d hoped?” Din asks after a while.

You nod and smile. “As soon as I get my tea, it will be.”

“And you… you don’t want to stay?”

“Nope,” you agree, popping the p with your lips.

He doesn’t know quite what to say. He’s not the wordsmith you are. “Well. I’m glad. I, uh. I’d miss you if you left.”

The words are simple but they warm your heart. “I’d miss the two of you far too much to leave,” you assure him. “For different reasons, respectively.”

Your flirtation is more than mild, but it hangs in Din’s mouth like a spicy Mandalorian food. He knows what you imply, and the thought that you could feel the same practically sends him into orbit, above Siruus’s atmosphere and next to one of its 4 moons. He can’t respond. He just tightens his grip on your hand.

Once you’ve acquired the drinks, Din holding his and the child’s, the three of you make your way back to the Razor Crest so Din can enjoy the drink too. Walking up the ramp, you sigh as the air-controlled atmosphere warms your slightly-chilled skin from being outside for so long in the Siruusian spring.

You unpack the kid from his carrier, and grin as he toddles to his father, making grabby hands for his green drink. “Oh my, toata,” you tease. “Your drink is the same color as you!”

Din laughs softly, and sets the drink on the floor for him. The baby tries to hold it and walk but the cup is too tall to move with his tiny body. You lift it for him and move it so he can sit in a circle with you and Din, cross-legged on the floor.

The baby plops down in front of his drink then realizes it’s too tall for him to sip from the thick straw while seated. The baby makes a little whine of frustration and you scoop up the kid, putting him in your lap. You hold the cup for him, and his two tiny hands grab the straw to drink from. The baby squeaks as he pops a pearl in his mouth. It’s just like the froggy eggs, and he couldn’t be more excited.

Your free hand holds your drink, and you close your eyes in happiness when the first sip of your tea reaches your tongue. You make a content little moan at the flavor, then open your eyes to see the child vigorously slurping up the drink. “Woah, little man. Slow down.”

Din just watches the two of you, smiling to himself. When your eyes return to him, he lifts his drink. “I’m not really supposed to do this,” he admits as he grabs the edge of his helmet. Both you and the child watch in bewilderment as he lifts his helmet just enough to expose the bottom of his nose, his lips and chin.

You’d never really processed that Din would be… well, so human. The strip of his face, exposed, reveals warm skin, dark stubble, and lips that look ridiculously soft. It’s a sight to see, a Mandalorian cross-legged on the floor and sipping tea with popping pearls. It makes you grin, and both you and the baby lean in closer to try and look under the helmet further.

“That’s as much as you get,” Din teases as he lowers the helmet, once more covering his entire face.

You frown, but the excitement of Din trying your favorite treat overwhelms it for now. “What do you think?” You ask.

Din tilts his head and does exactly that: thinks. “It’s very good,” he nods as he looks at the child, nearly halfway done with his green milk-tea. “I really like it. That’s delicious.”

“Yay,” you smile and sip your own drink again, sighing. The three of you continue like that for a while, sitting together and drinking your tea. Every time he lifts his helmet, you consider those plush lips, the scruff coating his defined jaw and chin. When his tea is gone, you frown to realize the moment of intimacy, of seeing just a little of his face, is over.

The kid is tuckered out from his day. You put the baby to bed in his hammock over the bunk, kissing him goodnight and singing him a lullaby as you rock the knit cradle. He falls asleep quickly,  tummy full of a delicious treat very similar to his favorite snack. While you put the child to bed, Din pilots you safely out of the sky harbor and away from Siruus, out of the purple-tinted sky and back into the darkness of space followed by hyperdrive.

You climb up to the cockpit, entering and standing behind Din’s captain chair. “I had a wonderful time today. Thank you.” You put your hands on his pauldron-covered shoulders.

“Thank you,” he insists. “I’d never go there for any other reason. The drink was wonderful and the kid absolutely loved everything about it.” “Maybe we’ll have to vacation there sometime,” you chuckle, spotting Din’s little toy blurrg peeking out from a pocket on his utility belt.

Din turns and stands from his chair, looking at you through that black t-visor. You’re not sure why he does it; in all honesty, he isn’t either. You stare into the helmet, where you suspect and hope his eyes are. “You’re very handsome under there,” you tell him, putting a hand on the divot of his helmet, where the beskar caves inward over his cheeks.

“I’m nothing special,” he shakes his head, a hand covering yours. “Nowhere as special or as beautiful as you.”

Heat rises in your skin, blood flowing closer to the surface. “That’s not true, Din.”

“It is. You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve seen in the galaxy,” he murmurs, his other hand cupping your cheek through leather gloves.

“Well, thank you,” you laugh softly, almost nervously, “but I meant you’re very special. I haven’t even seen all of your face and I know you’re absolutely gorgeous beneath that helmet.” You pause, tracing the curves of the beskar. “What color eyes do you have? I want to finish the mental picture.”

“Brown,” Din breathes out, barely able to control himself with you this close.

“Din?”

“Mesh’la.”

“Can… can you do what you did with your helmet to drink the tea?”

He lifts it just enough, just exposing those goddamn taunting lips and the scruffy jaw. “Like this?”

“Exactly,” you exhale before cupping his soft jaw, feeling the stubble beneath your palms as you press your lips to his. Those lips are a little dry but warm and strong, just like you’d assume the rest of him is. He puts a hand on your waist and pulls you in close, kissing you back deeply.

The beskar right above his lips makes it more difficult but not impossible. He lifts the helmet a little higher so he can tilt his head to the side, can kiss you with the energy and passion you’re putting into it. Mentally, he adds this to his lists of favorite tastes: spicy Mandalorian cuisine, your favorite tea with popping pearls, and you.

It lasts a while before you break away and Din lowers his helmet all the way once more. You breathe heavily from the fervor of the kiss, lips swollen and damp. Maker, he wishes this visor had a photo capability to take a picture of the way you look. “Come rest with me. Please, Din.”

Din can’t say no to that. He retreats downstairs with you, strips himself of the beskar save for the helmet, and snuggles into your side. Your wish comes true then and there, when you learn that he’s as good of a cuddler as you’d hoped. “Goodnight, Din. Thank you,” you murmur.

“Goodnight, mesh’la. Thank you more.”

The baby above you gives a little snort in his sleep. That’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep in his arms.

-

Taglist: @remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @1800-fight-me

[angelic-serenade]

“losing game” || fukuzawa yukichi

gif does not belong to me, nor do the anime & characters

fandom: bungou stray dogs

pairing: fukuzawa yukichi x gn!reader (1st person pov)

warnings: angst, lots of hurt and no comfort, emotional distress, barely mentioned mental instabilty, plot twist

a/n: just a little something i managed to write during the few moments of free time from uni. read as a letter to yukichi from the second paragraph onwards!! hope you enjoy, let me know if you like the new lyric-prose style i’m experimenting with!

word count: 1434

synopsis/prompt:  “a broken heart is all that's left, i'm still fixing all the cracks” ― arcade, duncan laurence

there is something noteworthy and indistinguishably patronizing which marks the mere presence of one fukuzawa yukichi – be it his wise and almost all-knowing gaze or his imposing posture, the way he manages to command respect without so much as a gesture anywhere he stands. he is authority and justice and that’s the only manner he allows himself to be, the only partial impression he allows others to make of him. sometimes i fret there really might be nothing more behind the carved, relentless shadow than the steely stares and unmovable frowns, lines so deep and intensely depicted that one might think of them as unforgiving – of what one may never know, if the unforgiveness staggers from the same place where the thoughts in his mind convince him that peace is something to be fought for but to never be attained. though sometimes the rough edges, the hollowed lines marking a tiredness which some days, some way feels all too familiar for comfort give way to a softer, unmistakably caring look; it’s almost imperceptible, the way he manages to turn the cold and unforgiving watercolors into a beautiful masterpiece, the true talent of the unrecognized artist  – his eyes lose the usually guarded edge which serves to protect everything but himself, his strained lips imperceptibly curl at the edge of a smile and the way he almost lets his shoulders abandon the weight he carries as if it were an old, battered companion brings to mind a tender sort of sympathy that sticks and can never really be forgotten – or forgiven for that matter.

akin to the flourishing of the most precious cherry blossom, you never allow for these moments to last too long, nor do they recur as often as to make those you care for expect them – in that, i think of you as more alike to the orchid than the cherry, for whenever the mysteriously grim orchid blooms, one knows not to hope for more time than its evanescent beauty can offer. cherries come to be expected, granted, but orchids never kiss and tell and you end up entangled either way. and after all, is it not the inevitable transience of things that makes them all the more desirable? if you heard me talking this way, with flowers and art and everything fulfilling in this life on my lips, singing your praises as if you were my last day of spring and sunlight, i’m sure you’d scoff the silliness away – this is your way, the way things have always been and always will be. no matter what you seldom sternly say, i’ll always be fonder of orchids than cherry blossoms anyway, for in their grave allure i found my own kind of tragic beauty.

by now i am convinced that you know and have always known exactly how much power you yield and how little you’d need to make me forget my own sadness – those moments, the careless slips of that bleeding heart of yours, are never meant for me. it pains me so to stand by your side without being able to bask in your praises, but that’s just how things are supposed to be – i am in your life, and that’s all i will ever need. sometimes you look at me as if you expect to see something - or someone – else in my place and i always end up trying to fill the void left behind by an illusion i don’t even know the name of. there is a hole that feels like an aching fever permanently carved into my soul, it spreads like an illness each and every time your voice creeps into my mind; even now i think of you and suddenly i feel much worse and better at the same time because you can never be the cure, but you sure as hell turned into my favorite medication. when i’m not by your side, in your beloved agency with your beloved family – the only ones allowed to walk alongside you into the sun - i delude myself into thinking i somehow may get over these terrible feelings that stretch my mind and hollow my heart, desperately convincing myself that time will wash away all of the promises kept in your sleeve. but sometimes, times that are just some and so unbelievably others, far in between and still so unfathomably precious to me, sometimes you let me hope and crave and i am almost convinced it could maybe be enough. the truth is that i have only ever known pain and i learned to make an addiction out of it.

once you called me by your side and i was quick to follow, as i always am because it’s you after all. under the feeble setting sun, the words spilled faultlessly from your lips, as if they had been composed to the likelihood of those poems about tragedy and grace i was stubborn enough to keep reading at night, and i stood in awe as you let me sip the most bitter of nectars, an aftertaste so haunting i knew it would forever ruin any chance of escaping this, of escaping you. welcoming the sudden flood with far more haste and yearning than i’d like to admit, you told me many things that day – about the agency, about your duty, about mine-, but you did not dare to utter my name even once, as you never did. you thanked me – me, little old, battered and faded, wide eyed and heavy-hearted me with no home to turn to and no more dreams in my closet to spare. you who had retrieved the pandora box and sealed it shut with your bare hands, you who had showed me another way, another path that nearly splintered my spirit all over again. i smiled still and for the briefest passing moment i almost hoped for you to reciprocate the minutest hint of affection; you raised your hand and rested it on my shoulder – it was warm, and it felt like water, like the purest form of unattainable salvation and i almost found myself crying in front of your unshakeable stance.

there was another time when you did gift me the smile i so desperately wished to keep for myself and i burn still, because look at what you made of me and what did you reduce my integrity to – i am neither blessing nor curse, the limbo of your love turned me into a willing martyr rejoicing the smallest act of kindness. you ruined me and i let you. i let you because a singular moment of bliss was worth the relentless tortures of your inferno.

i follow you around and keep you company still, but you never seem to acknowledge my unyielding pestering (just like before). when you let your guard down, my eyes lose themselves in yours because i can never completely understand what goes on in that obliviously rigid mind of yours – you look apathetic or sad or something that’s quite in between. oftentimes i worry for you, but you have always managed to cope and stand strong even as the tide came to wash away the last footprints of a decaying era, i believe you ought to keep doing so for another lifetime still. you have people who are dear to you as you are to them and for how much you’re unwilling to admit it, i also know that you keep a picture of me in your pocket, the one hidden on the inside of your austere kimono, somewhere between your contrite self-loathing and the lovely remnants of the day. when you think i can’t see you, i notice you make a habit of touching the spot where it’s concealed as if to remind yourself i am something right within your grasp, but that you’d never allow yourself to have. you never take me out of that pocket to properly relish the view and i will never ask you to. you grew fond of another illusion, as you’re prone to always do.

“the road to hell is paved with good intentions” i chant to myself when no one is listening, for my good intentions have only ever been inspired by you and burning and rotting in hell now barely sounds like a threat at all if i got to hear your praise just one more time.

today as you once again kneel pathetically curved upon my solitary grave, i can hear you weep yet; it’s been a while since you came to see me but finally for the first time, you call my name –

maybe you really did love me after all.

[mellointheory]

Alright, I got very carried away, so here’s every hd art I’m planning/currently working on:

Just a drawing of hd!Gumi because I would like her hand in marriage

hd!Velvetfrost on a date (and by on a date I mean attacking hd!Purpled’s city lol)

hd!Punz being a badass because I love them

I checked the hallowed devourer tag looking for inspiration and saw you mentioning rocketduo as semicompetent demon hunters and I can’t just not draw that

hd!Gumi and hd!Ant hanging out because they deserve so much happiness no matter how fucked up they are

Cita, DreamXD, hd!Dream, and hd!Drista because FAMILY DYNAMIC POG

This list expands every time I read hallowed devourer and though I can’t guarantee I’ll post or even finish all of these, I can guarantee the list will continue to expand especially now that I know you’re okay with fanart because I love all your work but hallowed devourer will always hold a special place in my heart for being the most beautiful fucked up fever dream of a fic I have ever read

:D :D rocketduo have made appearances in partially-uploaded hd prequel about ant and velvet so there are more details about those two there but kjfshgd you have basically as many hd-related wips as i do

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Matrimonial Bliss

This is chapter 29 of my Modern AU longfic, but you can pretty much read it by itself. Newlywed, first time smut with Cullen and my gal Lydia Trevelyan:) Smut. NSFW. 

Pinned beneath him on their wedding bed, her light but needy touches froze at his words, I’ve never done this before.

He had never done it before?

And therein was her folly. He misunderstood.

Tentatively, ashamed, he moved off of her. “Cullen!” She exclaimed, rising from the bed and following him as he sat at the edge of the bed. With his back toward her, on her knees she wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her hand rested over his beating heart. He covered her hand with his, and therein was some softening, some victory.

“I was only surprised,” she assured. “That’s all. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a sigh, though there was only a small semblance of defeat. “I…it was embarrassing I suppose.”

“It’s not embarrassing at all.”

“Well, I’ll be honest. Never really had the interest. Never dated really.”

“You’ve never liked anyone before?”

At his silence she sat by his side on the edge of the bed. Even as flushed and embarrassed as he was, he was a vision, with mussed hair and swollen lips from their previous kissing, and lightly stained with her red lipstick. Certainly, the two of them were making up for lost time.

She would have waited as long as he needed, but it was only a moment after she partook in her own version of the female gaze when he admitted he had one crush in his entire life, at the Circle before he came to Kirkwall, but he didn’t elaborate and she sensed he didn’t want anymore of that discussion in their bedroom on their first night of matrimony. Out of respect, she didn’t pry.

“But that was nothing, compared to this,” he admitted. “This is…you’re…” His eyes fixated on her lips, and she knew to him, she was extraordinary.

She would have wanted him even if it wasn’t new. She would have wanted him no matter what. Kicking off her shoes, she rose from the bed, standing in front of him. She took his hands in hers, and he too rose to his full height. This was one of her visions and fevered imaginings before he ever asked her to marry him, she remembered with the tiniest of smirks. The two of them, standing in front of a bed, their eyes dancing across each other’s bodies in a prelude dance before a dance of another sort began. But before, she could never have imagined the full richness of his amber eyes that were wide with desire, or the way he bit his lip to quell his want. She could never have imagined how warm his hands would be, or that she would take a Cullen with a scar across his lips, rough under her tongue, received after he defended her. Nor could she ever imagine that he would want her to make the rules.

Oh yes. He waited for her, ardently so, to move to kiss him, move to undress either herself or himself. She could be theatrical, grand and too much, so she threw her arms around him and lightly caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. If he wore a tie she would have grabbed it, but instead she undid more buttons on his shirt as well as the suspenders he wore to their wedding, and skimmed the tip of her finger down as she went, the golden hair their tickling. He smirked, and she heard him inwardly call her a minx, a wildcat, his.

“How do you want it?” she asked, her voice like sugar.

“Anyway,” he said without hesitation.

She didn’t expect that. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Are you patronizing me?”

He spoke with laughter in his voice, and she returned it with the most daring thing she had done yet snake her hand down below his waistline, though she was tentative at first, light. When he responded with pulling himself closer, feeling his want against her belly, she squeezed his arse. He burst into a fit of giggles, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she replied. “Just want to make you happy.”

“I am. Are you happy?”

“Happier if you kiss me.”

He obliged, capturing her lips, letting them fall to the bed, even though he was very vocal about wanting their clothes off, tugging at the satin straps of her gown. Asking her to hold on, he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, dexterously throwing it to the ground in only a brief moment that broke the flow of kisses and caresses. Back on top of her, her eager hands glided across his bare shoulders and back, and he pressed deep kisses to every part of her face, every part of skin that her dress didn’t cover. He would have been content to kiss her all night she thought, as kissing was so new to them, and yes, it would have been enough for her.

But Maker. She ached, she longed.

And the night was only just beginning.

“Cullen,” she whispered in his ear. “Lay down.”

“Hmm?”

She repeated, “lay down.”

“Why?”

She laughed—a stubborn one he was, kissing her neck, but she was just as stubborn. “Because,” she said, “you should feel good.”

“I do feel good.”

“Cullen, let me take care of you. Take care of me all you want later, but now…let me. Please.”

He answered her by doing what she wanted, laying down, propping his head on a pillow. He was half undressed, while she was still in her white gown, though he had done a decent job of pulling down the straps. She left them there, as a treat.

“Lydia…”

“Shhh,” she bade, stroking his forearms, his abdomen, the line of his trousers, his clothed cock. He shivered, but still she asked if it was alright. Biting his lip, he nodded. When he was at last bare after pulling off his trousers, laying on the bed, and she was bedside him, letting the silk dance of her dress dance across his skin, she hovered on top of him, sinking down on his cock, regretting she didn’t get a better look beforehand. He gasped at the feel of only this, partially because even though he wasn’t inside yet she was still encasing him, partially because he was surprised that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments. Of the last point, he admitted it with a chuckle.

“I took them off when we came in,” she offered as a secret. “They were uncomfortable.” She let him in on another secret. “I’m also not wearing a bra.”

“Shame, I don’t get to see.”

He was already gripping her hips, moving along with her gentle movements. This was a first for her, she had never sat on a man’s thighs before with the intention to ride, and it took more thigh strength than she realized. But with each movement, there was a sweet ache, and the image of him. He threw his head against the pillows, and she quivered, her wetness bleeding onto him. Flushed, amber eyes peaking up at her, he nodded.

“Lydia,” he begged.

She took his tip, and then all of him at once. She cried out—for her it had been a long time and he was deep and fully encased. He asked if she was alright, said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she promised. “It’s just…”

“Am I big?”

He had a smile of masculine pride. “Perhaps,” she offered, before telling him the truth, “yes.”

“Do you need to get off, or…?”

“No. I want to see you.”

It took a few moments of sweet torture, Cullen gripping her hips before Lydia took Cullen’s hand, kissing his palm. Maker she loved his hands—strong as they were and rough but not unpleasant. They were lived hands. Hers.

One more kiss to the palm, and then she moved.

He wasn’t a quiet lover. He didn’t even attempt to quiet his moans as she sank on top again and again. It inspired her to cry out, even as she craved more and began to touch herself. He became mesmerized by her own fingers, eyes trailed were she gathered up her skirts, and she hadn’t touched herself in so long that she had herself coming within near moments. And then Cullen came too, moments after her climax faded and he rose to kiss her. He came with their arms wrapped around one another, their lips barely touching. He was still so flushed, eyes sheepish even.

“I shouldn’t have."

“It’s alright,” she promised. “We talked about it earlier, remember? I’m on the pill.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but he did tug at her hair, study her lips and eyes with intensity. And Maker he was still inside.

“Thank you,” he muttered sweetly.  

Their foreheads touching as they floated along, she kissed his damp temple. Angling herself off, mourning the loss that was at first too much, the two of them positioned themselves on the bed, Cullen wrapping an arm around her as she curled to his side. As she wondered if she should take off her dress, she peeked at him. He was still smiling, and would stay smiling until he fell asleep.

But before he did, she asked him about something he muttered earlier, when they first entered their bedroom in matrimonial bliss. She was standing by the window, looking at the lake outside. He chuckled at first, before explaining that he muttered “Cliodna,” to himself.

“What’s that?” she wondered, and he explained Cliodna was a character from old Ferelden legends, an Avvar priestess who roamed the world, searching for her lover. When he was little, his mother used to read him the story.

“You looked like her then,” he said, before amending it to “you look like her,” and she beamed with a strange pride. She reminded him of a childhood hero, a figure of his dreams. It was something she never thought she would want a lover to think, but everything she ever dreamed.

She put her hand against his beating heart, kissing him lightly. She could get used to those kisses. But he muttered something that surprised her, “I should have made you feel good too. And oh, her dear Cullen, the man she chose to marry, the man she wanted to marry.

“You did,” she promised. “You do.”

And, she thought before she drifted to sleep, there would be plenty of time for him to do all the other things he wanted.

a/n: sometimes smut is awkward, especially a first time, so I wanted to portray that.

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapter 243: OgataOgataOgataOgataOgataOgataOgataOgataOgataOgata

Oh yes, finally some much awaited Ogata backstory!  Ah, I feel alive again - well that and I can finally work half days which is a vast improvement from working from home in a make-shift office in a spare room which includes my cat’s litter box.   This is a dense chapter, so I’m going to analyze it alone and also - Ogata.

Chatper 243 is titled “Superior Privates” and it clearly is setting up conflict between Usami and Ogata.  We have Usami’s face framed by Tsurumi and Ogata as the men tattooed on his face running but never able to meet.

I have to admit it took me a bit of staring at it to get the joke.  I also think there is a Captain Tsubasa reference in here as it looks like they are playing soccer, but that is a series that I know little about.

The title page also has a rifle and a hammer and a horse in the background implying the vastly different ways that Ogata and Usami have for killing other people or living things.

The chapter starts out with Usami using his *ahem* rather intimate method for trying to find the serial killer while Kikuta tries to make small talk with him.  He remarks on how Usami’s methods are odd and it leads him into mentioning Ogata.  He states how he thought that there was something wrong with the superior privates.  Kikuta says this calmly and his eyes are shaded a bit and his eyes are narrow.  I think Kikuta is trying to get a rise out of Usami or see how he really feels about Ogata.  Usami is not happy that Kikuta has put him in the same category of weird with Ogata, he doesn’t want to be lumped in the same category as Ogata.  Now keep in mind that we are reading an English translation so that is what I have to work with but Usami both refers to him as a bastard and I get the feeling that it is both a literal and a descriptive way that Usami feels about Ogata.  He even uses very interesting language of ‘snot-nosed spoiled little punk’ which in English implies that Ogata has much more in common with Koito as it reads to me that Usami sees him as a spoiled rich kid (something that we know Ogata certainly was not).

Kikuta seems to partially ignore Usami’s statement and continues to state that he was the best marksmen in the 27th and that Tsurumi gave him ‘special attention’.  Again, this statement seems to be baiting Usami and he quickly and angrily responds yelling that Ogata was just a glorified walking firearm, and he’s Tsurumi’s number one. 

This leads Usami to give Kikuta information to prove that he’s better than Ogata and that Ogata is not important.  I read this exchange to be an expression of Usami’s jealousy of Ogata and he is here to set the ‘record’ straight.  This is interesting as we know that Kikuta was working with Ogata for some time as they were the ‘Russian’ kidnappers of Koito in 1902 in Hakodate.  Usami must know that Kikuta and Ogata worked together, but we still don’t have a time when either of them joined the 27th.

Anyways, Usami brings up 2nd lt. Yuusaku Hanazawa and he reminds Kikuta that he died during the battle of the 203 Hill.  Which he then transitions to when Ogata was recovering in Otaru from being beaten up by Sugimoto and dumped into the river.  Ogata is in bed, he’s groaning and he says Yuusaku-sir which is one way to translate Yuusaku-dono.  So while in pain and potentially dreaming, Ogata has mentioned a very distant and respectful way to refer to Yuusaku.

This has such a strong callback to chapter 165 when Ogata has the fever dream and he links Yuusaku to Asirpa as being a pure idol for a cause. 

Now let’s stop and pause here - many readers of the manga have always thought that Ogata is a cold hearted bastard who feels no remorse for killing at all.  Ever since I read chapters 164 & 165, I have always felt for Ogata and I read it to be the glimpse into the fact that Ogata did have second thoughts about what he did and he had doubts and possible guilt.  I started writing meta because of how strongly I felt about Ogata and I have thought that he is a very complicated and fascinating character.   This scene here in 243, gives much more evidence to how Ogata feels about Yuusaku’s death, that he does feel guilty as he is haunted by Yuusaku and it makes chapter 164 and 165 make so much more sense.  Keep in mind when he has his melt down on the ice floe with Asirpa, he’s haunted by Yuusaku again there so more evidence of his feelings of confusion, anger, and guilt.  He wasn’t just haunted by Yuusaku in 164 and 165, he was haunted by him all the way back in the beginning of the manga’s current events timeline.

Okay, back to the flashback.  Ogata isn’t alone saying his half-brother’s name in a detached fashion, but Usami is watching over him and he mocks Ogata by repeating “Yuusaku-dono” and Ogata then stares at him, now awake.  It is a typical blank Ogata stare back at Usami.  It is clear that Usami wants to get a rise out of Ogata from the start with his aggressive body language.

Usami then drops the ‘bomb’ that Ogata said the name of his brother that he killed and he follows it up with Ogata being a weakling.  This implies that Usami sees this as an admission of guilt about Yuusaku’s death and that Usami doesn’t feel guilty about killing others.

Kikuta seems surprised that Ogata may have killed Yuusaku and Usami is certain based on the fact that Ogata is the only person who could snipe that accurately.  This implies that they actually performed an autopsy on Yuusaku which I do find curious as they were in the middle of a trench warfare situation.  But I am no expert on battlefield autopsies.  I would have thought that they didn’t pay much attention since, well they were in the middle of a battle but perhaps the fact that he was an officer they felt it was more important to at least note how he died.

This then leads to an interesting comment from Kikuta.  He makes it clear that Ogata would have no reason to kill him and he follows up with the fact that they seemed to get long well. The next panel is a flashback with Yuusaku trying to be friendly with Ogata and he’s literally trying to merge with the wall to escape his attention.  Now when I first saw the raws and read two rough translation from @goldenkamuyhunting​ and inori, I was like, seriously?  Come on Kikuta the body language is so obvious that Ogata wanted nothing to do with Yuusaku.

So I dug around to find a similar type of panel for a character’s expression in profile like Kikuta and I came back to this one here.  We have Ogata hallucinating Asirpa as Yuusaku as he looks stressed and a bit deadpan but he’s definitely surprised by what he’s seeing.

When I then look at Kikuta’s expression, I think he’s also surprised at the obvious fact that Ogata is not happy with Yuusaku.  Therefore, I think Kikuta is lying to Usami.  He knew that Ogata was uncomfortable with Yuusaku but plays it cool when talking to Usami at this moment.

There is also this helpful tweet from Sei Kobiyama:

He highlights that the fact that Ogata uses such formal language with Yuusaku also shows a clear separation of Ogata from Yuusaku. Keep in mind that in 103, it was stated that Yuusaku would refer to Ogata as “older brother” while we know 100% now that Ogata called him “Yuusaku-dono”.  This shows that both men were defining their relationship based on their own prerogative.  Ogata never saw Yuusaku as a brother, he kept the relationship professional.  Yuusaku wanted an older brother and thus he used the language towards Ogata to make their relationship familial. 

Therefore, I think that KIkuta is smart enough to read between the lines and see that the brotherly relationship was one way and unrequited.  I know you are clever man Kikuta, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and that you are playing Usami in this conversation.

Usami continues to explain to Kikuta why he believes that Ogata killed Yuusaku.  The flashback goes back to the battle for the 203 Hill.  This is directly after the flashback from 165 when Ogata is sniping Russians from the trenches and Tsurumi approaches him and updates him that there is a new plan.  He is to not kill Yuusaku as he is an inspiration to the men in battle as a flag bearer.  Ogata replies to Tsurumi as he uses the bolt action to eject the expired shell as he blankly replies to Tsurumi.

Chapter 243 starts off with this scene where Noda copy-pasted Ogata into the trench from 165 but added Usami in.  Usami is asking Ogata if Tsurumi told him that it is better for him to not kill Yuusaku.  This means that Usami was also aware of the original plan to kill Yuusaku along with Ogata.  What is interesting is that Usami then repeats that Tsurumi used the lines that “if Yuusaku is out of the picture Hyakunosuke’s father will show him love” and via Hanazawa’s love for Ogata, the 27th can control Hanazawa.  Usami adds in that this is a boring option; I find this hard to read as is he thinking Ogata controlling Hanazawa is boring or if this is how Usami is expressing his jealousy that Ogata is required to control Hanazawa thus giving him more Tsurumi love.

Ogata replies that Tsurumi has decided to use Yuusaku’s role as a pure idol as a way to inspire the men in battle.  Ogata looks reflective as he says this, he clearly understands the power of an idol such as Yuusaku and this is before he has his conversation with Yuusaku on the battlefield.

Usami clearly disagrees with Ogata’s read on Yuusaku, he angrily states that he’s just using his father’s position to gain respect from others and he already hopes that Tsurumi doesn’t give him more glorification that he deserves.  Keep in mind that 164 was when Ogata tried to get Yuusaku to destroy his purity by having him visit with a prostitute in a brothel but it failed.  Tsurumi read this as an indication of Yuusaku’s purity and his nobility, which Ogata clearly disagrees with.  Ogata had first hand evidence of Yuusaku’s attempt to fulfill his father’s wishes. 

What is interesting is that when Usami speaks to Ogata, his back is to him and we see Ogata’s eye from under the hood of his cloak and then we see Ogata frowning just a bit as his eyes look rounder than normal.  I really think that Ogata at least is beginning to observe that Yuusaku’s purity may be a part of his character but he’s still unsure if he’s doing it as a dutiful son or if he’s doing it for himself.

The flashback jumps to sometime later and we see Ogata having a conversation with Usami.  At this point in time, Ogata is stating a hypothesis that Yuusaku is presenting a false image of himself.  He states that if the false front is removed, Yuusaku will be shown to be the same as everyone else, and Tsurumi will change is mind about him as an idol of purity.  Ogata states that everyone is the same deep down.  He then asks Usami if he feels bad when he kills a Russian solider and Usami replies that he doesn’t.  Ogata continues with the rationalization that those who die on the battlefield die b/c of their own fault, that they are inept and therefore they die and Usami just agrees again with this statement.

The bottom right panel is more important as it shows that Ogata is setting up his ‘test’ for Yuusaku with Usami, you see Ogata to the right, Usami to the left and a third figure being dragged between them.  It looks like Noda made a goof in the final panel as Ogata’s hood is now down on his cloak but it was clearly up right before then.

Ogata continues his verbal thesis as he states that the love from one’s parents doesn’t change how you turn out.  Usami agrees.  Usami came from a 100% loving and friendly household and he’s our most twisted member of the 27th.  Ogata came from a completely broken home and he tries to rationalize that is why he can kill.   This allows Ogata to state that, he’s correct and if he and Usami are the same despite different household he’s not strange.

Some period of time passes and Ogata goes to find Yuusaku and test him with the Russian POW.  This means that we need to recall what happened in chapter 165 where Ogata brought Yuusaku to the POW here.  I always wondered who else was involved in this ‘test’ as Ogata does not look like the kind of guy who could carry a Russian POW to a random place to hide him and stage him for Yuusaku to encounter.

With his hood heavily drawn and no longer wearing his military cap, Ogata asks him if he’s killed a single person.  This leads to Ogata’s observation that Yuusaku doesn’t even use his sabre which other flag bearers will fight with in battle.  Ogata asks if he’s using his position as an excuse so that he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty by killing.

Yuusaku is clearly nervous about this accusation.  Is this actually in part the truth of Yuusaku’s own personal beliefs?  This leads to the ultimate Ogata ‘test’ he asks him to kill the POW.  Note that Yuusaku refers to Ogata as brother while we know that this entire time Ogata is using Yuusaku-dono again showing the gulf between them.  He questions if Yuusaku is trying to stay innocent by using his position and he presses him that he wants to see him kill him.

This is then repeated with Usami narration on page 7.  The text box is Usami stating that Yuusaku was truly pure and we see Yuusaku walk away from Ogata.

We have to remember between Ogata handing the bayonet to Yuusaku and then Yuusaku leaving a LOT more happened.  Yuusaku explains that he’s upholding the role that his father told him that he must play.  That he must go above and beyond the expectations of most flag bearers.  It is his job to alleviate the inevitable guilt that soldiers will feel as a result of their actions.  Ogata questions his statement about guilt and that people only act like they feel guilty.  This reply makes so much sense as we now know that right before this happens, Ogata was talking with Usami about how all people are the same deep down.  It doesn’t matter if they came from a loving family or a broken family, they are the same and that they can kill and NOT feel guilt. 

Ogata’s statement that everyone is the same as me, is with the huge caveat that Usami says he’s the same as Ogata.  This conversation ends with the incredibly awkward brotherly hug of one direction.  Yuusaku looks like he’s even crying from his left eye has he embraces Ogata, while he stands there unresponsive.  Yuusaku is certain that Ogata does have feelings and will feel guilty and he emphasizes that he’ll understand one day.

The hug scene ends with Ogata blankly staring off as Yuusaku hugs him and we can see a small foxhole in the trench that we saw before.

Going back to 243, we see Ogata address what first appears to be no one (clearly not the Russian POW) and it reveals that Usami was in the bunker/foxhole the entire time!  This means that Usami witnessed the full awkward brotherly hug and the statement from Yuusaku that people must feel guilt over killing.

Ogata then states that if he kills Yuusaku and it shows that his father loves him, it will demonstrate that Yuusaku could have become just like Ogata.   And he asks if Usami agrees with him.  Of course, Usami emerges from the bunker to state that he completely agrees with Ogata as the Russian POW still remains hog tied between them.  We get the final panel of Yuusaku collapsing on the battlefield.

The conversation returns briefly to the present as Usami tells Kikuta that Hanazawa instead became depressed over the loss of his legitimate son and never even bothered to look up Ogata.  The next statement is unclear to me, “So he was feeling all miserable and upset because Yuusaku died while he was still pure and good.”  This could be about how Hanazawa felt, but it could also refer to Ogata, and that Ogata was upset as he was never able to prove that Yuusaku wasn’t pure.  Or is this referreing to both Hanazawa and Ogata making their responses to Yuusaku’s death the same?

After this is said, Kikuta decides that he doesn’t have time for this and leaves Usami behind to lay on the ground in the afterglow.

Usami then thinks more about his conversation with Ogata in the hospital.  He tells Ogata that he knows he’s involved in the rebellion in the ranks and that he’s one of the people who has been stirring up discontent. 

Usami inquires if it has to do with Ogata’s role in the death of Hanazawa.  Usami can’t see how Tsurumi could do something that makes him unhappy.

Usami’s recollection then reveals that he was the carriage driver when Ogata met up with Tsurumi after he killed Hanazawa and staged the body.  We see Usami biting his lip seething with anger as Tsurumi dotes upon an unemotional Ogata.  This the leads to more information, at somepoint, Tsurumi gets out of the carriage and leaves Usami and Ogata alone.  Tsurumi damn well knew he was able to rile Usami up, just like what happened with Usami and Tomoharu at the dojo.

Usami then quotes Tsurumi, “You’ve been left behind Ogata, so I’m sure everyone will support you.” this leads Usami to ask Ogata if his goal is to become the leader of the 7th and if this was the reasn he agreed to be the member of the 27th to kill Hanazawa.  This implies that Usami at this point in time thinks that Ogata wanted the power and status of becoming the next Hanazawa of the 7th. 

Interestingly, Ogata stated that he accepted the job because he had to ask Hanazawa things before the end.  This implies that Tsurumi’s plan to kill Hanazawa could have gone to others in the 27th and knowing that Hanazawa was a marked man, Ogata’s opportunties were liminted to get his own personal questions answered.

What is interesting is we see here now in 103 that Ogata’s mindset about children is different than his previous conversation with Usami.  First off, Hanazawa tries to rationalize that how Ogata responded to his mother’s mental illness was the same that Hanazawa felt towards her.  We know that her mental status was already poor around the time that she gave birth to Ogata and Hanazawa never came back for her.  Ogata then highlights that children can’t choose their parents.  His theory has shifted that if love exists, he is a child who grew up lacking love and therefore he’s lacking something fundamental and it is unrelated to social status.

This is different than what he had when he spoke to Usami.  At that time Ogata felt that he and Usami were the same, they could both kill regardless of the fact that he grew up lacking the love of his parents when Usami was clearly loved.  After Yuusaku’s death, Ogata’s opinion changed, he now sees himself in a different category than Usami.  His words make it clear that he, himself is lacking something fundamental due to his upbringing.

He uses this as the transition to reveal that he shot Yuusaku on the battlefield with the intention of getting Hanazawa’s attention.  Ogata wonder if this was an event that might allow his father to love and accept his other son.

This lead to what is one of the most bittersweet panels of the entire manga where he asks if there was a ‘blessed path’ for himself as well.

Hanazawa makes it quite clear that Ogata is ‘lacking something [fundamental]’ and that he should go to hell.  Hanazawa’s dying statement is pretty clear, if he could kill his mother, his brother and now Hanazawa he was a broken individual who lacked love.

With time and perspective, this confirms for Ogata that he is lacking something fundamental.  He was able to get the words from his own father thus creating a self-fullfilling conclusion. 

What this does tell us, is that Ogata wanted answers more than anything.  He’s an intelligent man and all of these flashbacks are beginning to show how he’s trying to rationalize who he is, how he became the adult that he is.

So when we return to this part of the page, it makes so much more sense.  Ogata had to ask Hanazawa questions before Tsurumi made sure that he was dead.  Usami then immediately thinks that this is a power play on Ogata’s part to get more attention from Tsurumi.  Usami is thinking “Ogata volunteered to kill his own father - he clearly wants Tsurumi’s love!”

Ogata replies after a brief hesitation that this is not the case.  Usami just looks at Ogata with his angry rabbit face.

Usami decides to stir the pot more and he tells Ogata the true purpose of why Tsurumi wanted Hanazawa dead, the Manchurian Railway (Mantetsu).  Usami then decides to try to rile up Ogata by saying that Tsurumi didn’t want Ogata to kill him so that Ogata would be in Tsurumi’s good books but that Ogata’s father was preventing Tsurumi’s own plans in regards to the Manchurian railway.

Usami then thinks back to when he approached Ogata in the hospital as he tries to rationalize why Ogata was a part of the rebel element.  He thinks Ogata is upset that he killed his father to gain Tsurumi’s love, to show his loyalty, but instead Ogata was just a simple tool to allow Tsurumi’s plans for the Railway to proceed.

Usami tries his best to rile Ogata - he killed Yuusaku and he didn’t gain his father’s love, he killed his father but didn’t gain Tsurumi’s love.  Therefore, Ogata is bitter and angry and full of spite since no matter what Ogata has done, no one has loved him.  I think that Usami is partially correct, Ogata did these actions to see if he could gain the blessed path.  He killed Yuusaku to see if Hanazawa would approach him, but deep down, I still think Tsurumi ultimately wanted Yuusaku dead and I still think in a way, Ogata thought he was saving Yuusaku from being killed by another member of the 27th in the future.  Say Yuusaku survived the war.  It was clear as soon as he heard about Tsurumi’s plans he’d be dead.

With our new information that Ogata wanted to ask Hanazawa questions ‘before the end’ implies that again, Ogata knew that Tsurumi’s plans required Hanazawa out of the way.  Ogata needs answers to his questions about the nature of his own guilt and his need to be loved and recognized.  To me, by volunteering to be the person of the 27th to kill Hanazawa, it was the only way that he would be able to talk to his father.  His father was a dead man walking with Tsurumi’s plans and if say Tsukishima had killed him instead, he would have been left wondering if the ‘blessed path’ would open up for him as a result of his father recognizing him.  That fact that Hanazawa completely ignored Ogata’s existence after Yuusaku’s death clearly bothered Ogata and he needed to hear those answers.  It is terrible that he could only get his answers in such an extreme situation but it was Ogata’s only option and if there is something Ogata is, it is hyper-rational.

Usami tries to push Ogata further by tearing him down as he explains why Ogata became a traitor.  He states that he’s a “piece’ in Tsurumi’s game, just like Koito is a “piece”.  Thanks to inori for clarfying on discord that the translation refers to them as shogi pieces; as shogi is similar to chess, I think it is safe to make a leap that this implies that members of the 27th are pieces with different abilities and therefore, some are more useful and valuable while others are less valuable. Usami really goes for the hurt by comparing Ogata with Koito as we know that Koito and Ogata never got along even when Koito was a young officer in training.  He thinks that Ogata’s ego got the better of him and this is why he became a traitor.  He says that his ‘overwhelming’ love became ‘overwhelming’ hate and he states that Ogata knows exactly what he means and he sees Ogata for what he is.  This is interesting as we know that Ogata has changed his opinion on love and around the time that he killed Hanazawa he didn’t believe in ‘love’ as a concept.  It is clear that Usami never realized that this shift occured in Ogata’s thinking.

Ogata finally whispers something in Usami’s ear that we don’t know.  Ogata then smile as he replies to Usami’s shogi [chess] anology.  He calls Usami’s hypothesis a delusion and if they are to see members of the 27th as shogi/chess pieces, Usami is the cheapest piece on the board.  Ogata’s insult likely means that Usami is a simple pawn (or whatever the shogi equivelent of a pawn is, I should know this after watching “March comes in like a Lion” but it clearly didn’t stick in my brain).  If we are to follow a chess/shogi example, I’d say that Ogata’s interpretation hurts Usami deeply, by implying he’s a worthless pawn, he’s disposable and not important to Tsurumi.

This clearly does the trick as Usami pulls out his bayonet to stab Ogata and we see his veins on his face bulging out, a direct reference back to when he killed Tomoharu.

However, just like with the poor Russian doctor, Ogata clocks Usami in the face with a bedpan.  Ogata, using bedpans to beat people in the face since ~1907.

The next page then shows us how Ogata was so effective when he escaped the hospital in Akou.  He hit someone with a bedpan, and sprinted off barefoot in hospital clothing.  This flashback has many parallels with what happened in the hospital.  Usami refers to both Ogata and Koito as similar pieces and we learn that Usami told Ogata to investigate the Mantetsu before this happened.  On Karafuto, Ogata manages to have the Russian doctor hit Koito with the revolver and he also hits Koito with it.

Usami at somepoint wakes up and another man checks in with him.  Usami states that Mishima is following Ogata and it implies that Usami is smart enough to realize if he let Ogata go, he’ll lead them right to the other rebels.  Usami is upset that he was called a cheap piece by Ogata.  Of course I’m not surprised that Ogata knew exactly what to say to Usami to piss him off, he is always watching.  Usami is not a piece, Ogata, Koito, Tsukishima those men are pieces but Usami is special.

And yes, for good measure his is the scene after Ogata called Koito a bon-bon in Russian he told him about the South Manchuria Railway and to investigate it as it would explain that Hanazawa’s death was suspicious.

Chapter 210 has Koito’s whole, I’ve connected the dots Tsukishima and Tsurumi may have been involved in Hanazawa’s death!  This lead to Tsukishima revealing to him that Ogata was the one who killed Hanazawa.  Just like Usami, Tsukishima projects his own issues onto Ogata’s behavior as he also thinks that Ogata became upset after he killed his father even though Tsurumi gave him exactly what he [Tsukishima] wanted.

Tsukishima also re-interates his own theory that Ogata is working as a spy for Central Command which came up during his shoot out with Ogata in Yubari.

Therefore, a really major theme is that Usami and Tsukishima both think that they know what Ogata wanted from Tsurumi with their own issues projected onto Ogata’s behaviors.  It is clear from Usami’s flashback that Ogata wanted something else that we the readers know but Usami doesn’t know because he didn’t hear the conversation between Ogata and Hanazawa. 

What this also shows us is that Ogata’s motivations are not what others think that they are and he clearly has his own agenda.  We’ve known for sometime that he has his own agenda and now we can see it is partially driven by his own need to answer some pretty basic philosophical questions about the nature of love and how people are raised and if this is connected to the ability to kill and to feel guilt or not.

Back to the chapter, we have Usami now alone, abandoned by Kikuta, doing his ‘thing’ as he says that Ogata will come to Sapporo to interfere with Tsurumi’s plans and he’s clearly upset by it.

The chapter then wraps up with an update on Ogata’s marksmenship.  Ogata sees a duck, takes aim and fires.  I like how the final panel shows an emotionless Ogata pull his rifle back before the next page reveals the result.

Like any good cat, he comes bearing a gift for his current servants.  He holds up the duck to display and offer to Hijikata and Ushiyama.  With full on smug cat expression, he explains that he’s finally become accustomed to shooting with his left hand.

He looks like such a happy cat has he lifts the rifle off his shoulder.  Hijikata then asks if this implies that the sniper has completely recovered.  Ogata looks quite contimplative as he replies “No.  . . .”

The answer is defined by his final full page reply.

He can only be called a sniper when he snipes a person.  He’s now holding the rifle left handed indicating that he’s ready and he looks so confident.

Based on the fact that Usami predicts Ogata’s involvement in the search for Jack the Ripper, and that Ogata has now stated his ready to become a sniper again. It looks like Ogata’s sniping will begin again in Sapporo and Usami will be involved.

And with that our chapter ends.

As a card carrying Ogata fan, I was so happy to read this chapter!  Ogata, I have missed you sooo much and I’ve been waiting for more background for your mysterious motivations.

1.) Ogata feels guilty about killing Yuusaku.  The fact that Ogata said “Yuusaku-dono” in the hospital, the fact that he was being possessed by Yuusaku in chapters 164 & 165, the fact that when he was talking to Asirpa, he was talking to Yuusaku on the ice floe; all of these events show us that he does have feelings of guilt in regards to his actions.

However, I do not think Ogata’s guilt is because Yuusaku was his half-brother, it is clear that Ogata did not want Yuusaku’s love or attention as it likely made his already miserable life in the 27th even worse.  We know that Ogata was bullied due to his status as an illegitimate child (chapter 169).  From Ogata’s language around Yuusaku he saw him as a pure idol.  A man who was shaped to become a pure idol by his father and he was the dutiful son that Hanazawa expected from him. 

The pure idol concept is a connection that Ogata made himself between Yuusaku and Asirpa.  When he wakes up from his fever dream in 165 he knows that in his mind, Asirpa is a pure idol that Wilk shaped to lead the Ainu and ethnic minority groups into the future.  We as readers know that Asirpa’s personal value to not kill is something that she developed herself and it wasn’t something that Wilk told her to be or do directly.  But Ogata doesn’t know this, he assumes this from his own interactions.  That is why when he has his meltdown on ice he begins to talk to Asirpa like he picked up his converation with Yuusaku with the Russian POW from chapter 165. This is why Asirpa is a bit puzzled herself, Ogata is speaking her in terms that she doesn’t quite get since she is not Yuusaku but in Ogata’s mind they are cut from the same cloth and therefore in a way almost the same person.

Both Asirpa and Yuusaku were raised by important men who had a clear destiny laid out for their children.  Yuusaku was the dutiful son who was placed into a ‘pure’ job as a flag bearer even though he likely knew it would result in the loss of his son’s own life.  If Sugimoto can make the connection of Asirpa to Joan of Arc and he only read it in a shoujo magazine, we know that Ogata clearly knows of such examples as well and he learned enough from Kiro and Sofia about Wilk to know his motivations. 

I’m guesing he may have been able to see Wilk’s conversation with Sugimoto at Abashiri before he shot him as well, Wilk flat out tells Sugimoto that he raised Asirpa to be a guerilla fighter for Ainu independence.

Or Ogata already knew this and his time on Karafuto only confirmed his thoughts.  It doesn’t really matter, what we know is Ogata thought for sure that Wilk trained Asirpa to be the pure idol for Ainu independence.

What I’m really trying to hammer home is that Ogata, seeing Asirpa’s own personal code to not kill implied to him a need for her to be a pure Ainu idol, just like Yuusaku was a pure Japanese military idol. 

And Ogata clearly has indicated he doesn’t like how these men groomed their children into becoming pure idols who lead others into battle.  Those others lead into battle, such as himself, are supposed to feel better about their guilt of killing others as their idols remain pure.  But Ogata thinks that this is utter bullshit and that there are no pure people.  To cope with all of the trauma from his own life, he has to tell himself that people don’t feel guilt and that people are not that great.

Yet, the two pure people he has met both wanted to connect with him.  Yuusaku wanted so much for him to connect with Ogata and be his brother.  Now, Yuusaku was a next level dumbass in this regard as he clearly was making Ogata very uncomfortable, likely making his position in the 27th worse than it already was and in a way, his desire for an older brother was quite selfish.

Asirpa accepting Ogata and caring about him really throws him for a loop as she is not related to him, nor is she Japanese.  Perhaps, @goldenkamuyhunting​ and I’s crazy idea that Ogata is mixed race may play a part of this if Ogata is part ethnic minority from Karafuto.  It would make his connection to Asirpa more of a familial/genetic type again making him more uncomfortable. 

Yet, it is clear that he comes to accept her attention and he clearly cares about her on some level.  So when she tries to pull the same “purity” crap on him that he feels Yuusaku did he snaps.  I think what started it was when she told him she “There’s not a single thing I can trust about you!” He really lost it then as all these other people have lied to Asirpa and she trusts them but the one time he lies to her she knows immediately and rejects him.  And she had accepted him.  It hurt him. 

Ogata gets his wish when Asirpa accidentally shoots him.  His twisted smile, to me, indicates that he was like “Yes, she shot me!  There are no pure idols in the world.  My hypothesis is correct!”

This therefore, at that point in time shows Ogata that if only Yuusaku had more time, he too would have lost his purity if given the right circumstances. 

What I’m more curious is where this leaves Ogata standing in at the present in the manga.  We don’t know what he was thinking after he was injured, but I’m sure there were more fever dreams and deep thoughts about philosphical contimplations about the meaning of love, purity and family in Ogata’s overactive mind.

Did Ogata escape the possession of his soul by Yuusaku in chapter 165?  Or with the admission of his guilt in 243, does it mean this was a self-imposed ‘possession’ which was removed by Asirpa shooting him in the eye and he lost his sinning eye. 

It is also interesting that he replies to Hijikata that a sniper needs to snipe other humans to be called such, will he actually snipe to kill or will his sniping style change with  the loss of the eye and the guilt tied to it.

The fact that we still have yet to see Yuusaku’s full face implies to me that his guilt still remains and when Ogata confronts that guilt, we will see what Yuusaku actually looked like.

And this long first point is to conclude that Ogata feels guilty for killing an ‘innocent’ like Yuusaku, not because he was his half-brother but due to his commitment to what was expected of him by his father.

2.) Our interpretation of Ogata almsot always comes from another character’s interpretation of Ogata.  Throughout GK, Ogata has been framed in a rather unique fashion as a character.  Most of what is said and believed about Ogata is based on what other characters say about him and how they act with him. 

Sugimoto sees him as a traitor and can’t be trusted, though likely it is due to the fact that Sugimoto feels that he has betrayed others and he even goes on to betray Asirpa for 200 yen to Tsurumi.

Koito first sees him as an ungrateful son, and the son of a wildcat.  Therefore, Ogata is out to con others.  He may also think that Ogata should love his father as a second son, because he learned that his own father (Koito Sr.) loves him as the literal second son.  He later learns that Ogata killed Hanazawa and he has not given us any indication what this means to him.

Tsukishima sees him as a man who was angry at his father for hurting him.  When Ogata was given the chance to kill his father, Tsukishima thought it would have given him peace and a place in the 27th to continue to live off of Tsurumi’s sweet lies.

Usami sees Ogata as an individual who wanted Tsurumi’s undevoted attention and love.  Just as Usami gained love from Tsurumi through violence, he saw Ogata perform despicable acts to his half-brother and father but those did not get him Tsurumi’s love.  Ogata is just like Tomoharu in Usami’s eyes, another person taking attention from Tsurumi away from him.

Tamai saw Ogata as a capable solider and reliable.  Unfortunately as a member of the bear death trio we learn little else about how he saw Ogata as Noma and Oda seemed less keen on Ogata.

Hijikata knows he’s an unusual man who was under Tsurumi and as much as he deflects, he knows that Ogata has an intelligence background.  He keeps Ogata as far away from him as possible and makes Ogata travel with the other groups while he tries to figure out Kiro’s background.  Hijikata likely knows that Ogata has his own plans and he’s not going to tell him for sure.

What this has done for many readers of the manga is that they take what these characters say and do and use that to form what they also see Ogata to be.  But really, we have a bunch of unreliable narrators telling us who they think Ogata is, not who Ogata actually is.

When we examine Ogata’s own actions independent of what everyone else thinks, we see a different picture.  Ogata is an intelligent military man who pretty much calls things as they are, figures out things quickly, thinks on his feet and can command small groups of people effectively.  I really don’t want to belabor this point, I’ve written tons of meta about why I think Ogata is an interesting and capable character.

3.) Ogata is a philosophical guy.  This drives his interpersonal behaviors and likely is a coping mechanism with his poorly developed childish emotional maturity.  The flashbacks in 103, 164, 165, 243 as well as many things that Ogata have said throughou the manga or done all point to a man who is mature as an adult but who never got beyond basic child emotions. 

What is really interesting is that we see what Ogata is thinking, he asks others for their inupt, he finds more people and asks them questions which then allows him to change what he is thinking as he gets more information.  He is clearly constantly thinking and changing how he feels about family, love, guilt from killing.  The issue is that all of his behaviors are through a rational and logical thought process.  Sadly, he is not taking his emotions into his questions since he doesn’t really know what to do with his own emotions. 

We know that he does feel guilt from killing at least ‘innocent’ people and this may be where his self-control came from.  Think of when he was with Nikaido trying to snipe Tanigaki.  Nikaido didn’t care about Asirpa’s Huci and Osoma, but Ogata wouldn’t hurt them, he only wanted Tanigaki.  His character’s behaviors scream out that he wants to be loved and accepted by someone after a lifetime of bullying but he doesn’t even know how to go about it.

4.) Usami is super messed up.  I just felt that this makes a good point.  Usami is fucking nuts.  This chapter just gives us more information that Usami has his mindset and he sticks to it = Tsurumi loves him, he loves Tsurumi and he will be Tsurumi’s favorite.  Obviously, he’s indicating there will be an Ogata encounter.  Usami better be careful as Ogata’s sniping skills are back.

5.) Kikuta is likely relaying information to Ariko and Central Command perhaps.  As I stated when I first read the chapter and saw Kikuta’s remark about Ogata and Yuusaku, I was like, wtf Kikuta are you blind?  But then if you read the beginning of the chapter, Kikuta is gently nudging Usami to talk.  He drives the entire conversation and as Usami is so emotionally invested in it, he says so much that he likely shouldn’t.  This is exactly how Ogata got information out of Sugimoto when they first met in chapter 5.  Both men have worked in intelligence and they easily pull information out of others before they even realize it.  The fact that he asked Usami his opinion of Ogata makes me wonder if Kikuta knows more or he started asking Usami about Ogata as Ariko told him Ogata was in Sapporo with Hijikata and got injured somewhere.  Ariko was shocked to see Ogata as he thought Ogata was dedicated and loyal to Tsurumi. 

The fact that Kikuta literally left Usami alone in the street ‘investigating’ means he could be going to do his own intel exchange and he doesn’t have to worry about Usami snooping on him.  If Usami was supposed to keep an eye on Kikuta for Tsurumi in Sapporo, he’s doing a shit job. 

Well that is all that I have for now.  Apologies for the long meta, but it was so interesting and I’m sure I’ve missed a lot of points.

[dharmadischarge]

Buckaroo Banzai: the novelization a review.

"The essence of Camp is its love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration," - Susan Sontag. The Buckaroo Banzai movie novelization is an elaborate shaggy dog story and the punchline is after reading it you are inspired to try to be a better person. I heard someone else describe the movie this is based on as a partially successful adaption of its own novelization. I would agree. Most people, compare it to jumping into an ongoing series without the context of a beginning or an ending. Much like life the loose ends seem to imply that the noise can become a type of music. I have also heard Buckaroo Banzai as a character described as America's forgotten answer to Dr who and this may be so. But in the spirit of camp when confronting greatness Buckaroo is not a time lord, he is a renaissance man. A measuring stick for the fever dream of what was twentieth-century America and dreams are dangerous things you have to be careful who you give them to.