#like was this a deliberate acting choice or am i speaking out my ass? anyone?

[cardboardangels]

love how hotch is in like. endlessly yielding to the act of reasoning, assessing, micro-adjustments and so on.. so I’d like to know what the conflict was when he refused to give william hightower (to hell and back eps) a gun at the scene. not the refusal, but the moment hotch apologizes and his eyes are averted like he could not meet that man face to face

[dilftaroooo]

hi! can you please write a nsfw oneshot for dio brando x fem! reader ? to be a little specific; can you add a boss/assistant dynamic & corruption kink? tysm ( ◠‿◠ )❣️

mmm corruption kink. thats absolutely my fav, anon 🤤. i'll be more than happy to write it for you. enjoy!

(business office au)

you gotta earn it. (boss!dio x secretary!reader)

word count: //1.7k+//

synopsis: you want that raise? then show mr.brando what it is you're willing to give up to him. it's only fair.

tw/tags: dubcon, nipple play, corruption kink, size difference (not heavily mentioned though), business attire, afab reader, cute virgin reader.

"No."

Those words left you speechless; stiff in your spot as you looked into piercing, yellow, eyes. He said it in such a nonchalant manner, you don't think he even took a double take on your question. You spent so much effort to muster up the courage to ask your boss the question that you dread to be answered - but not in this way. He must have made a mistake.

"'No'...?" You echoed.

Dio leaned back in his seat, eye contact never faltering as he crossed his legs, burgundy colored dress pants ruffled at the movement. He tilted his head in a mocking manner as one well groomed eyebrow raised upwards.

"Oh dear. Perhaps my beloved secretary has gone deaf? I shall repeat myself once more: 'No' meaning, 'No, I will not offer you a raise.'"

Your fist clenched as you try to fight back the tears of humiliation and neglect. Why? Why did he refuse you? You worked so hard for him and you knew he knew that. So why won't he give you this raise? Leave it to Dio to crumble up your acts of valor and throw them into a fiery pit.

Trying to regain your composure, you speak up,

"But, sir, Why? I've done so much for you these past couple years; schedule your meetings, review your records and documents, compose orientations for newcomers. I even make sure to make your coffee each morning - a long black with two shots of expresso."

Your eyes were becoming wet. You were on brink of breaking down and crying right in front of your boss. You don't even think he was the slightest bit convinced by your retort. All he did was observe you with a wicked smirk plastered on his face. There was no change in his features but, reluctantly, you resume.

"Please, Mr.Brando. Please give me this raise. I-I'll try to do better for you! Just tell me what it is I need to do. Please, I'll do anything, Mr.Brando."

Dio stiffened. It was that keyword that gained his attention: 'anything'.

"'Anything', you say?" You nod and a flash of his white teeth glimmered from the building's colorless light on the ceiling. His chuckle was deep. "Think before spouting careless words such as that, my little mouse." The small squeak emerges from his office chair as he gets up, approaching your meek figure and you cower at his nearness. His fingers gently grasped your hair and you notice how well kept they were - manicured with a clear polish and decorated with gold rings. You didn't miss the Rolex watch wrapped around his wrist.

"Such pretty hair," He lightly plays with your mane before tightening his grip and hoisting your head up, forcing you to look directly at him. "You don't mind if I tug on it do you, love?" He adores the wince you let out, eyes scrunched close with pain.

"Ouch! Mr.Brando, Please stop-"

"Oh but you said you would do anything for me, remember? So I'm allowed to use you however I please. You want a raise, don't you?" Your face burns when his lips feather against the skin of your cheek. You heave out a low sigh at his deed. Dio deliberately consumes your reaction - savoring it like the smoothest red wine.

"Have you ever been fucked before, dear?" The amorous question made you whine. This was just too dirty. You shake your head for an answer.

"N-No, sir."

"Really? You've never been touched before? No one has ever pounded that filthy, little, pussy of yours? Tsk, tsk, tsk - What a shame. Looks like I have to change that." He lets go of your scalp but your head never moves, eyes still on his frame as you process his words.

"Wait, Mr.Brando, please. I've never- oh!" You were put to an abrupt stop when he picked you up from under your arms and legs before setting you down on his desk. It messy with scattered documents he found frivolous and purposeless, there were much more important matters at hand.

Tearing off your white dress shirt and bra in a blink of an eye, he gave your mounds a carnivorous stare, gulping at your nipples swell at his glance. He wasted no time kneading them. You let out a moan from his heated touch. It was foreign to you.

"What a lewd sound you made just now, Y/n. You like this, right? I barely even started." His fingers teased your stiff buds, pinching and pulling at them.

"Ngh- No, Mr.Brando..."

His touches were blunt and straightforward, they were rough as he assailed your fragile body. He was fervent to take it to the next step. He lifts your legs up to take off your pencil skirt.

He lets out a delighted sigh beyond seeing your choice of underwear. "Lacy panties? Was my little mouse expecting this? Getting all dressed up for your boss. You're such a nasty fucking girl."

"That's not true! I was in a rush to-"

"Excuses, excuses. That's all I hear from you. Shut up and take your panties off. I want to see how wet your cunt is." You obeyed under his stern tone - slowly stripping off your red-laced panties. You still had your legs closed, ashamed to show him your untouched flower but Dio pried them open by your knees. Your heady scent instantly fills his nose and he takes this time to observe your pussy, you were soaked - vagina pulsating, waiting for anything to be plunged inside, trimmed hairs placed on your pubic area, clit swollen with excitement. It was remarkable.

"Look at you, throbbing so greedily." He puts two thickset fingers in your sopping pussy without warning." An invevitable moan escaped your lips when he applied pressure to your g-spot.

"M-Mr.Brando - mmmm - that spot, you're hitting that-"

"Quiet, little mouse. As much as I love to hear you scream did you forget the setting we're in right now? I hate the idea of someone seeing this pretty pussy other than me." You pitch your voice down an octave - not too fond of the idea of being caught by your coworkers (especially by Jonathan).

His digits rapidly thrash inside you, bodily fluids flew everywhere. "You're making such a mess all over me. So sloppy. I have no doubt that this is what my little mouse wanted. Your grip is so firm around me." Your small hand cover your painted lips. You didn't want anyone to hear you but Dio was making it all too hard, he was hitting all of the right spots within you.

Pulling his fingers out, he unzips his flyer and sought out for his cock. His length was huge, you were unsure if you should even continue. His member intimidated you. Dio knew you were on edge, he softly coos at your expression.

"Aw, don't worry, sweetheart. You'll only feel a slight pinch." Aiming his shaft to your entrance, you recoil once he plummets inside of you, tip kissing your womb. What you felt was more than a pinch. it was easily comparable to being stabbed in your nether regions. Tears flowed from your eyes.

"Pull out! Please, it huuurts!" Your cries were ignored as Dio continued slamming into you like no tomorrow. He covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling your wails.

"Ah- You feel that? My cock jabbing at your womb?" His thrust slow down so you can feel every inch of him - veins feeling more prominent than before. "That's how deep I go inside of you. This tiny body of yours can't handle a cock like mine. Ha! And would you look at that, I can even see your stomach bulging from my dick. How filthy."

He traced his fingers along the bulge forming near your abdomen. He rams in you relentlessly. You gripped the sleeves of his business suit, wrinkling them while doing so. Dio was fired up by the calls of his name leaving your lips, making him go at a, almost inhuman, pace.

Vulgar slaps of skin filled the room and you were both close to coming. Dio's hot breaths reached your ear and his thrusts losses its initial tempo.

"You're a few inches away from getting that raise, sweetheart. Just let me fill you with my seed." He bites the crevice of your neck - his teeth were sharp.

"Mr.Brando-! I'm gonna come...Agh- Mr.Brando... D-Dio!" Said man met his high after his name was yelped - relieved to let himself go, his cum spurts deep in your walls. You came shortly after by the feeling of him filling you up. Both of you sigh.

He hoists himself up off of you to put his dick back in his pants and fix his attire. You grimace at the slimy fluids now sticking between your legs. Dio scoffed. "Consider yourself lucky, little mouse. You finally got that raise you so desparately wanted. What's wrong with a little cum in you, hm?"

A bit irritated, you get dressed as well, getting ready to leave his office. But before you can exit, he turns you around to face him, eyebrow lifted in question.

"Leaving now? Have you forgotten what to say?" You assume he wanted some form of gratitude from you for giving you a raise.

"Thank you, Di-

"Hmmm? Did I fuck you so dense you forgot who I am to you?" You blush at his smile.

"T-Thank you, Mr.Brando."

"Good girl. Run along now." He slaps your ass before you leave.

"Dio, why do you smell like sweat? The only thing you do is sign papers and present at meetings." Jonathan frowned at Dio's pungent scent. The man chortled at Jonathan's exasperation. If only he knew what happened behind closed doors.

"Don't worry about it, JoJo. A little boy like you wouldn't understand."

"We're the same age, Dio."

"Oh yeah. You're right. You have such the resemblance of a child that I must've forgotten." Dio teases. The both head to the parking lot of their company to call to it a night. Jonathan clenched his teeth.

"I do not! Just what in the hell were you doing in your office? Working out?"

Dio roared out a large laugh at the word akin to what you and him did earlier today.

"Yeah.. you can call it that."

this fic belongs to @dilftaroooo

[toria-lilith]

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (chapter one)

A/N - Hi guys! So I made a post about this a few days ago but I decided, since I finally remembered the fucking password to this blog, that I’d rework some of the writing and plot points in Smoke and Roses, and republish it! I really hope you enjoy more this time round! 

Fic Summary: Holland Van-Ness is a PR manager. At only twenty three years old, she is smart, sharp and straight edge; and the best in the business at what she does. But when she gets involved with the reckless Motley Crue, her life changes forever.

DISCLAIMER:: I would like start by saying I do not condone any of the actions portrayed by any member of Motley Crue, any member of their crew, or any OC. This work is fictitious, and is in no way meant to glamorise drug or alcohol abuse. ‘Smoke and Roses’ is based on the events of Netflix’s ‘The Dirt’, and the autobiography of the same name, and follows the both of them closely, and will include details regarding the aforementioned abuse that may be triggering to some readers. The timeline in this fic also differs slightly from real life and The Dirt. With all that being said, proceed with caution, and enjoy!

It was the ringing of the phone that awoke Holland.

In her grogginess, she seriously considered rolling back over and ignoring it, but just when she thought it was done, it started to ring again; long, and loud, and tearing her back from the comfort of sleep.

Holland groaned. She rolled begrudgingly out of bed and made her way across her bedroom, where her phone was hung upon the wall opposite her bed by the window. Whoever was calling her better have had a damn good reason to be bothering her at nine AM, and on a Saturday of all days.

“Hello?” She said tiredly into the receiver, running a hand back through her dark blonde hair to push it back from her face, “Holland Van-Ness speaking.”

“Ahh, Holly,” a voice, irritatingly cheerful for the time of day, greeted her on the other end. “It’s Doc Mghee.”

Well, that certainly peaked her interest, and Holland was suddenly wide awake. Though she had known Doc for years, he rarely called for a chat, which could only mean one thing; he had a job for her. “Doc, good to hear from you,” she responded warmly, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

It had been a year or so since Holland had last spoken to the infamous manager. He had been a close friend of her Father’s before he passed away, and had been the one to help her break into the music industry when she was a mere eighteen years old. That had been five years ago; and Holland was eternally grateful. She owed a massive amount of her success to Doc. “Tell me,” he said, “how soon are you able to get to LA?”

Holland raised an eyebrow at the question even though Doc couldn’t see her. “Doc, if I’m going to make a trip to LA, I should know what it’s about.”

Doc chuckled. “I’m getting to it. I’ve found you a band.”

“Oh yeah?” Holland had expected that, of course. She balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and reached over to her dresser to fish for a notebook and pen. “And… what band might this be?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Doc chuckled again, and Holland didn’t like the way he seemed to be deliberately avoiding answering her question. “But just hear me out, alright? I think this might be just the challenge you’ve been looking for.”

Holland felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Part of her thought she knew exactly who had had in mind, and he was right; she didn’t like it. “...Go on,” she pressed him after a moment.

Doc chuckled for a third time. He sounded unmistakably nervous. “Motley Crue.”

For a moment, Holland was silent as she digested this information, and then she laughed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Holly-”

“Are you crazy? Doc, you seriously want me to fly all the way out to LA to be their PR manager? That’s career suicide!” 

“Holly,” he went on pleadingly, “these boys need help. If anyone can sort out their shit-show of a public image, it’s you. They’re on the verge of real success here, but my God, their image has got to be fixed. They need you, Holly. Just come to one show. If you think they’re beyond help, I’ll pay for your flight back. But just give them a chance. These kids need some sense talking into them and they don’t listen to me.”

“Kids?” Holland scoffed. “They’re not kids, they’re grown ass men!”

“Look, the choice is yours,” Doc sighed heavily, “can I expect to meet you at the airport or not?”

“Dammit Doc…” she groaned loudly, making it very clear to him exactly how she felt. “Fine. I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Holland heard Doc cheer. “Holland Van-Ness, you are a star!”

The line went dead as Doc hung up. That time, it was Holland’s turn to sigh. She’d heard stories about Motley Crue that were rivalled only by her nightmares. In the six months since they’d debuted, they’d singlehandedly caused more problems than any other band Holland had managed, and she had had to put up with some serious shit. From their very first gig, Holland had decided they were trouble, and she had sworn to herself that she was not going to get involved with them or any other band like them. Apparently, that was not a promise she was going to be keeping.

Holland padded sleepily into the bathroom, where she lingered for a moment to brush her teeth and pull a comb through her hair. She paused by the sink to take a good luck at her reflection. She looked a damn sight better than she had done five minutes ago, but there was an emotion in her eyes that Holland didn’t immediately recognize. She realised after a moment, that it was fear. 

She drew in a shaky breath. When she told Doc working with Motley was career suicide, she hadn’t been joking, and that thought scared her more than anything. If she didn’t have her job, what did she have?

She rushed back into her bedroom where she dressed quickly and threw a few essentials into a small suitcase. Anything else she needed, or had forgotten, she supposed she could buy once she landed in LA. Holland had worked with a menagerie of bands; from small, local acts to headlining musicians. She had helped all of them maintain a fairly respectable public image. But now, in the cab on her way to the airport to meet Motley freakin’ Crue, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was completely out of her depth.

She made her way through customs fairly quickly and within the hour, found herself in a less than comfortable aisle seat on a four hour flight from Miami to LA. That sinking feeling remade its home in her stomach as the plane started its ascension, and Holland found herself gripping the arm rest, so tightly her knuckles strained white against her skin. She was at least comforted by the thought that when she inevitably wanted to return home, she wouldn’t have to pay for the flight.

As the plane made its way through the sky towards LA, Holland tried to catch up on the sleep that Doc had so cruelly taken from her but it was nearly impossible over the roar of the engines and her own feelings of anxiety, and so eventually, she gave up and resigned herself to watching the clouds whizz by the window. Before she knew it, LA was upon her, and she found Doc waiting for her by the luggage claim.

When she saw her old family friend, all her frustration momentarily drained away and she embraced him in a tight, if not brief, hug. “It’s good to see you, Holly,” he told her with a smile.

“And you!” She said. She looked anxiously over his shoulder, expecting to see the band stroll through the duty free stores towards them. “They’re not joining us?” She asked him.

“Relax,” Doc assured her quickly, “they’re not here. I thought you’d want to get some brunch and get settled in first.”

Holland smiled weakly, reassured. “That sounds great.”

She collected her suitcase and allowed Doc to carry it out to the cab for her. She could have carried it herself given that it wasn’t too heavy, but she was exhausted after her busy morning, and was secretly grateful for his help. When they got into the back of the cab, Doc looked as though he was going to start with some pleasantries, but when he turned to Holland and saw the look on her face, he knew she was ready to talk business. He could tell she had a lot of questions, and motioned for her to start.

“Alright,” she said, folding her hands casually on her lap, “first and foremost, where am I going to be staying? You didn’t mention a hotel or anything in your phone call.”

Doc grimaced and didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. “Once again,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “you’re not going to like it.”

Holland’s face fell a mile. “Doc…” she deadpanned, “tell me I’m not going to be staying with them.” She looked at him intently but Doc said nothing, which only confirmed her fears. “Are you serious, Doc?” She asked him furiously, “working with them is going to be bad enough!”

“The money’s not bad,” he reminded her, hoping to diffuse the situation but she only scoffed.

“Yet clearly not good enough to buy me a hotel room,” she scowled. “Why the hell do I have to stay with them?”

“Holly, these boys aren’t like anyone you’ve ever worked with before,” Doc told her. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder with them than you have with any other band. You’re going to need them to trust you, Holly. And this is the way to do that.” He gave her a look that Holly recognized and understood almost instantly. It was the same pleading look her Father used when he wanted her to cooperate.

Even so, she groaned loudly. “Alright, fine,” she relented. “I’ll stay with them.” She sighed, turning to look out of the window to avoid seeing the triumphant grin on Doc’s face. “So, what are they like?”

“They’re…” Doc trailed off. He glanced out of his own window, as though the street passing by would inspire him. “They’re a handful,” he settled on eventually, “self centered. Arrogant. But, they’re talented as Hell, and I think they’ve got it in them to be good kids. They just need a little push in the right direction.”

Holland hummed in acknowledgement. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t need to. A beeping sound came from Doc’s pocket. He sighed, pulling out the small pager. A scowl passed over his face.

“Aw, crap,” he mumbled, “sorry, Holly. We might have to put that brunch on hold.” He slipped the pager back into his pocket and fed another address to the cab driver, different to the one he had initially given.

“Why?” Holland frowned, “what’s happened?”

“What’s happened is you’re about to start your job a couple hours early,” he said grimly, “there’s been a fight.”

Holland found herself rolling her eyes. “Of course there has,” she grumbled, though she didn’t know why she was surprised. When working with Motley Crue, she should have expected nothing less.

[ayankun]

WandaVision episode 6

FIRST OFF

Whenever I go back to pause things for clues, and find exactly what I’m looking for, I don’t feel justified, I feel that much more insane:

It’s really hard to make out, but I had an alright look at it on my folks’ QLED, and it’s definitely a flying saucer doing an alien abduction on what looks to be a person inside an old CRT TV (with some kind of robot head/boombox on top???)  There are secret aliens in this show, you guys, the facts don’t lie.

HmmmMMMM I wonder if Agnes is as innocent as she looks:

Also, I didn’t see that she was wearing the brooch in this ep, and I was majorly disappointed in that.

Two things here:

No, that’s not a twins joke.

Another Moonmen Confirmed

I know green is his color or whatever, but that hat is literally 10 years ahead of its time

Also, I took the playing-DDR-at-home scenario at face value, and only on the first rewatch did I realize it was a very pointed turn-of-the-century reference.  I am an Old.

There’s a good, subtle Rule of Threes in this ep.  The Setup:

The Sokovian Halloween flashback works on so many levels.  It’s so funny:

The fact that they went trick-or-treating at all

The “speaking Sokovian”

The treat being a fish

They have to share the fish

The concept that this event gave them an infectious disease

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma” -- it’s a good sitcom joke but.  the trauma is the joke.  The joke IS THE TRAUMA!!!

Elizabeth Olson is a dream with all her wonderful faces she has this ep.

Vision’s unsettling passive-aggression-sitcom-cooperation whiplash is WOW, consider me unsettled!!!!!!  “Be. Good.”  UGH.

(Just noticed one here, but there are a number of continuity errors in this episode, enough to be distracting later on, and is this a deliberate choice?  Please let it be deliberate.  I didn’t watch a whole lot of Malcolm in the Middle, is it known for its continuity errors?

)

“It’s their first Halloween.” LOLOLOL they are TEN YEARS OLD and this is their FIRST halloween I LOVE IT

DOUBLE RED HERRING CONFIRRRRRRRRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Agent Jimmy Woo accidentally identifying himself as the sassy best friend added 20 years to my life.

Found.  FOUND.  Not “created,” “manifested,” “willed into being using my insane witch powers.”  Third Party Confirmed.

I like that it’s the 90s and we can swear on TV now.  “Hell” “kick-ass” “damn it” “fu---dge”

I think the most biting part of Vision finding the whacked out folks is that the soundtrack just kind of ... ignores that anything’s wrong.  Yeah, it’s kinda-spooky Halloween music, but it’s still 100% in-world kinda-spooky-sitcom-Halloween-episode music. 

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE AD:

As a 90s child, let me tell you, this is a blisteringly accurate representation of children’s marketing from the period.  The shark is wearing sunglasses AND he has a surfboard!!!  And he’s selling you yogurt of all things!!!!!  This is the supreme distillation of what being a child in the 90s was like.

How disappointed I am that they went with crab instead of lobster.

Heard it through the grapevine that this is a representative of Wanda’s imprisonment on the Raft.  That happened in Civil War, right?  So the next ad is The Snap?  We’re running out of iconic decades, too. so, hold on, new thought.

90s: Civil War

00s: Infinity War

10s?????: Endgame???? or?????????

??: Whatever happened between Endgame and WandaVision, given that the ads are stepping forward through Wanda’s IRL life events!!

I don’t want to know how many episodes are planned/announced, but I don’t know what to expect from the format after they run out of decades from which to draw.  Maybe there are only one or possibly two “sitcom” episodes left.  Maybe after that it just breaks down and they can pick and choose from the worlds/styles we’ve already established.  That’d be p neat.  A very unique kind of chaos.

god she’s so cute

Okay, somebody explain to me Pietro.  I honestly walked away from last week thinking he was just some townsperson chump, but then I was reminded that this is the Quicksilver actor from all those X-Mans movies I never watched, soooo people are saying Multiverse Confirmed?  But, if this is X-Mans’ Pietro, then why did he die the same as MCU Pietro?  Or is he literally MCU!Pietro’s corpse, given that he looked all dead same as when she saw Vision’s corpse?  If MCU!Pietro, then why different face???

????????????????

Also I found him highly suspicious, what with all the questions he was asking.  But the only sort of person who would truly want to know the answers to those questions would be someone who already had them ... so I think he was just asking on behalf of the audience, and the delivery was all wonked out.

Rule of Threes - The Reference:

Ok, real talk, whenever computers/networks/data/encryption/servers/mainframes et al come up in mainstream media, I just look away.  I don’t need the kind of psychic damage that comes with such egregious mishandling of the topic.

That being said, does Hayward having eyes through the barrier mean that he could possibly be involved in getting it set up?  Because look.  If Hayward-after-Hayward’s-Villianous-Ends is one antagonizing force, then is there really room for the Third Party (Confirmed) antagonizing force that’s lurking in the negative space silhouette of the Inciting Incident?  With Wanda as the Red Herring antagonizing force, that’s just.  There’s just too many villains, alright?  We gotta start merging these plotlines.

(then again, when I just said “eyes” I realize probably understanding the true nature of his new secret “CATARACT” project will clear a lot of things up.  I’ll wait for enlightenment)

Agnes’ license plate in this episode is 0A1-B2C, which I think is a reference to the way reality is getting pared down to bare bones at the edge of town.  Note that this is not the same license plate number as seen last ep.

ALSO, I drove home behind a NJ plate just an hour ago, and was staring at it for a long time, trying to fit it into the puzzle before A) realizing that this was Real Life and not part of the show and B) WTF is a NJ plate doing in front of me in California.  In any case, I can confirm that NJ plates do not appear to have this number-letter repeating format.

So let’s talk Agnes.

Demonstrated knowledge of the situation in ways others haven’t (”There’s the star of the show” “kids, you can’t control ‘em”)

Shows up when needed most (explained as being Wanda’s doing, but is it)

When Wanda was having her babies, though, who was trustworthy enough to be summoned?  Was it Agnes?

Wanted to babysit REAL BAD

Was in the opening credits framed possessively with the twins

Doesn’t appear to have an IRL identity according to Jimmy’s crime board

Keeps talking about her husband but we’ve never seen him.  Highly unlikely that he’s real

Was the one to find Sparky “dead” - internet thinks she was lying to Wanda about how or possibly if he was dead (I’m trying not to read the theories, so idk exactly what the angle is there)

In an episode where everyone is wearing their original comic outfits, Agnes is dressed as (and laughs like!) a witch

She name-drops Wanda as the one controlling everyone; Norm (or the guy playing Norm) only said “she” and “her” -- meaning Agnes?

Naughty

So we’re 99% sure Agnes is Agatha Harkness, right?  I never read no comics, so I’m taking the internet’s word for it, but from what I can tell, I think we must be right.  If that’s the case, then I’m thinking it’s not impossible for her to be pulling some strings around here (giving Wanda a justification for her “that wasn’t me” doorbell ring, for example, and pulling a double red herring on the fact that she shows up whenever the narrative Wanda her nefarious scheme calls for it).

To devil’s advocate myself, though, we also have Monica’s word that it was Wanda in her mind, lessening the impact of Agnes falsely confirming what Norm only implied.  Also she’d have to be acting for Vision’s sake (and ours) and, if so, then what did Vision’s brain-touch really do, and how did she know he’d find her there, and what did she intend as the result of that interaction etc etc.

If Wanda’s (or Wanda + Third Party Confirmed (Agnes??)’s) powers aren’t enough to sustain the simulation of life on the edges of town, how much worse is it going to be now that there is even more area to try to control???

I don’t know if this is strictly an intended read, but the idea of Halloween as a fun, scares-for-entertainment’s sake type holiday, the rounding off the edges of concepts like “skeletons and ghosts are what people are after they die, let’s decorate the town with them and have a good time” kind of is a haunting parallel to the nature of Wanda (et al) covering up the horrible truth of the situation with this happy-go-lucky sitcom glamour.

How much does one hate seeing Vision giving his life for the greater good (the greater good) for the second time?  In other news, I think I’m seeing some specifically Mind Stone type energy-colors coming off of him, and very little Wanda type energy-colors.  Third Party Confirmed.

Also, I was thinking from last week that perhaps Hayward’s Villainous Ends included capturing the reanimated Vision to be one of those Sentient Weapons his organization is all about, but I Do Not Think his reaction to seeing that sought-after prize disintegrate in front of his eyes really matches up with that theory.  Again, will be patiently waiting for Jimmy to check his email to see what CATARACT is all about!

Rule of Threes - The Payoff:

Also, anyone ID the movie playing in the background?

Ok, final thought.  I watched this about four times today, and on the big-ass TV at my parents’ house finally paused and got up close to see what that white shape is in the reflection.  Thought it might be a skull, but, it’s worse.

These caps do not contain enough data to verify my claim, but I PROMISE YOU it’s a TV

A square old thing with a round screen and antenna on top. 

I SWEAR to you, when I looked into the TV, into Wanda’s eyes, only to see the reflection of a TV, of her looking at me looking at her I had a visceral fear reaction.  Like.  LEGIT nauseous skin crawl.

(All the other episodes have ended with our POV as the fourth wall, from the general (or exact!!!) position their household TV is known to be.)

This is my favorite show Of All Time.

[dustedmagazine]

Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers

[bigskydreaming]

Idk guys, could people maybe just try taking me at my word every now and again? I mean, what exactly is it that people think I get out of these posts?

Is it popularity? Do you think I make these posts to be popular? Because I took several months upon moving into Batfandom a year or two ago before actually making these kinds of posts more than once in a blue moon, and I was waaaaaaaaaaay more popular initially than I am now. I lost literal scores of followers once people realized this is a Thing for me, and could probably get most of them back if I just....stopped. Given the number of people who seem to follow and unfollow me regularly, as if just to see if I’m ‘done yet.’

So.....no, its not about popularity.

Is it about note counts? Do you think I make these posts to get notes, by being controversial, or with ‘the anti’s’? Because if you look through my archives you’d see that without variation, I consistently get FAR less notes on these posts that I do compared to like....literally ANY other content I post. When I write a Batfandom meta indepth, its rare for me not to get hundreds of notes on it. When I write a post like the last one examining survivor-related topics in depth, its rare for me to get up to even fifty notes. 

So......no, its not about note counts.

Is it about garnering sympathy/pity? I do rely on donation posts sometimes, and I might see gains there due to people having sympathy or pity for me that they’re afraid to tangibly express online due to the controversial nature of many of my posts, but that might show up there, right? Well, sure, except for the fact that....my sob story is in no way reliant on these more controversial posts to exist, and in fact would be a hell of a lot more compelling when it comes to attaining donations if I DIDN’T add in all these other posts that are blatantly alienating to a lot of the people who were like “you had me at abuse/incest/rape survivor who needs major surgery as an end result of his gay bashing way back in college but then you lost me when you said I am a literal rapist for reading and writing specific fics like wtf dude?”

So.....no, its not about garnering sympathy/pity or even donations.

Is it about just being interesting or standing out or getting attention? Do you think I make these posts like a broken record because I have nothing else to talk about? Because uh, I have my pet topics but I can literally write essays on pretty much ANYTHING and everything about Dick Grayson or Scott McCall or Bobby Drake or plenty of other characters. And again, like I mentioned above, consistently get WAY more attention and engagement from people on any of those. I don’t need even my survivor status to be interesting, thanks, and I don’t even actually care all that much about it at the end of the day, because anyone who’s followed me for any length of time knows I would be perfectly happy to talk for a week straight about my OCs or original content even, as long as I have even just one or two people engaging with it, lol. 

So....no, its not about being interesting or getting attention.

Is it about being a know-it-all, regarded as having certain expertise or being an authority on a certain topic? If so, that’d be a weird choice given how often I talk about how being a survivor is NOT a monolithic experience, and the fact that I center myself in my posts on the subject is not because I’m presuming I speak for everyone, but rather specifically to keep my views and experiences tailored specifically to ME and my own experiences entirely....the only viewpoint from which I AM qualified to speak with authority. I don’t post what I post the way I post to be viewed as the be-all and end-all of surivor views, and I don’t make it about myself and my experiences to wave my survivor credentials around and shut down opposition - if I did, it’d be blatantly ineffective given the amount of anon hate I get and derailing my posts experience, most of the time using information I’ve freely offered up in my own posts in an attempt to trigger or silence me. I post the way I post in these posts for one reason only, usually to my own detriment - I’m simply trying to humanize a topic that far too many people IMO deliberately try to view as abstract and hypothetical in order to distance themselves from the real issues. Not to mention like, I know a great deal about a lot of things? There aren’t many other former stuntmen or actors posting in this part of the internet that I’ve seen, I could focus on my own expertise there, or in any number of academic topics I’ve explored a lot just out of personal interest. Hell, I’ve been called a ‘Dick Grayson expert’ more than once, and could easily just focus on my knowledge and insight of his character, if I weren’t so often alienating half his fandom with these posts, right?

So.....no, its not about being a know-it-all or regarded as having certain expertise or being an authority on a certain topic.

So really, when it comes right down to it, there’s only two things it could possibly be, wouldn’t you agree? Either I’m speaking from a place of honesty as to very real reactions and views I have on this subject, born of my own experiences and knowledge.....or I’m just speaking out my ass from a place of wanting to feel morally superior about something.

But does it really make sense for it to be the latter? If I wanted a moral superiority hill to die on in order to feel good about myself or whatever, do you really think this is the only one I could come up with, or come back to this often? Given the number of ways it seems to shoot me in the foot in the process? Oh, I know I have a certain tone when I speak on this subject. I know I ooze the same ‘you sound so dumb right now’ tone I accuse others of when I approach stuff like this, but the thing is.....all of that ALWAYS traces back to like...me REACTING off of something, not just randomly up and deciding hey this is a good week to be hated by bringing up something I know damn well 90% of my followers would be happy to see me never bring up again.

And for a guy who clearly LIKES interacting and engagement on this platform as much as I do, does that make any sort of sense at all? Maybe every now and then, but as often as I do post about this stuff, for as long as I’ve been?

Or could it possibly just be like.....I’m telling the truth, and this shit is really, truly exhausting in a way that I, and any other survivor it exhausts, shouldn’t HAVE to put up with. Its not like I came out of the gate swinging, in fandom at large or even this fandom specifically. It took time to get me just....tired of it. The same bullshit, every day, every week, without fail. And again, it all mirrors the same shit I’ve been hearing from people my whole life, to avoid engaging with the ways they weren’t even complicit in my past traumas, but just....inconvenienced by it. People talk a good game about being there for us, believing us, supporting us, but in my experience, the second something beyond a simple acknowledgment of status is asked for, the second something someone would have to ACT UPON is asked for.....the switch flips.

And that shit. Is. Exhausting.

I don’t make noise on this subject because I in any way actionably or actually benefit from it. I don’t even make noise on it EXPECTING to, at this point. I make noise simply because.....the subject deserves noise, and I deserve to make it if I make that choice, and for too much of my life that just wasn’t a possibility. And all of this bullshit, as a result? Make no mistake, its just bullshit. I don’t ever call it me being bullied or victimized or harassed or martyred, because its none of those things and I don’t regard it as those things. (Well I occasionally refer to that TW anon as harassing, but that’s because their behavior is not just limited to me and very much fits every textbook definition of the word and needs to be regarded as such). But the rest of it? Like, I don’t have a martyr or victim complex because I don’t feel victimized by this shit, lmfao. It really is just exhausting and irritating. It makes me tired and annoyed. Not harmed. Even being genuinely triggered by shit, which happens more than I care to have it happen, is at the end of the day still just an unwanted echo of a shout that I heard years ago, and an echo is never going to hurt me the way that initial shout did or have the same impact. I’ll never quite get how people seem so convinced that their anon hate or triggering effect is going to accomplish what nothing before this actually did or be the TRULY demoralizing impact I can’t move past or whatever, as opposed to just being irritating and frustrating in its hypocrisy, but well. Guess people are projecting about feeling powerless in their own lives, lol, whoops.

But just....the hypocrisy of all this grates. And the only thing I’m really looking for out of it, if I’m even looking for anything at all, is just even a few people over the years saying something as simple as “i never really thought about it like this but I can see it now.” Is it really that hard to just listen to people? My ‘voice of moral superiority/condescension’ in these things comes from the fact that I AM listening, I HAVE been listening, and that’s why I know for a fact that the things being said in opposition are all things I’ve heard MANY MANY times before, and refuted or seen refuted each time. Can some of you say the same thing about yours? Especially when that tone only comes up in posts that repeatedly reaffirm that you’re not actually responding to anything I’ve actually said or written, but merely your own idea of what you THINK I’m saying, or else just a viewpoint you’re comfortable refuting, even if its not actually mine and at best tangential to my own? When you can find something insightful in so many of my posts about a character we both like, and understand even the most rambling of my essays about Dick Grayson just fine, can you truly and with confidence say the disconnect when it comes to hearing and understanding what I say in these posts is all mine? Are you sure it has NOTHING to do with anything you bring into your reading of these posts from a place of defensiveness or preconceptions of your own?

Just....think about it.

[youveneverbeenalone]

Inktober for Writers/Fictober:

Day 31- Final (Darejones)

So even though it may have looked like I forgot about this project or abandoned it, I never did. It just took me... a long while to finish the last prompt. But I finally did it! So for anyone who’s still interested, here’s the final day, and with the prompt of “Final” which seems fitting. Holy cow, I can’t believe this is finally going to stop taking up space in my head. More space for other ideas, then. Or at least I’m crossing my fingers about that. 

This one is a culmination of pretty much the whole month of other prompts, and features our two favorite idiots hashing out their issues re: Matt’s recklessness and Jessica’s protectiveness. Hopefully it feels like the bookend it is meant to be.

Just in case anybody needs it, prompt list here list here, and links to the previous day, the tumblr masterlist, and the completed AO3 collection at the bottom. Let me know your thoughts if you’re so inclined. If you’re still here, thank you all so incredibly much for reading and sticking with me. I’m so glad to have found so many other Darejones fans along the way with this endeavor, and even though I disappeared for a while, I hope you’re all well! Cheers! ______

Day 31 - Final 

The night he decides to stand his ground takes her by surprise, though later, as she reflects on it, she guesses that they’ve been building to this for a while now and he was well within his right to do so (even if she’s loath to admit it). 

The call he makes to her earlier that afternoon to invite her along to help him with his vigilante-ing is vague enough that it gives her the impression that the whole gang will be joining them in whatever do-good actions they’ll be enforcing; so, when she shows up and sees only him on the warehouse rooftop, dressed and ready for action, she’s immediately suspicious. And that suspicion comes out in her voice, making her tone pointed, maybe even a little accusatory.

“What the hell is this?” she says, gesturing to the empty space around him.

“Well, hello to you too. But what are you talking about?” he asks, face distorting in confusion. 

She fights back a snarl because she already has a bad feeling about the direction the conversation is heading, but she really hopes she’s reading him wrong. “Don’t act like an asshole. Where is everyone else?”

“It’s just us tonight,” he says, adjusting his gloves and helmet, as though he can’t wait another minute to bust down the doors and start kicking asses.

“‘Just us’? Up against an arms’ dealer and eight of his most well-armed buddies. But you didn’t think to call anyone else? Even when you took a round in the stomach last time you barged ahead and tried to handle something like this solo, and I chewed your ass to Brooklyn and back for it?”

“Jess, look—“ He has his hands up in a placating gesture, one that she can’t help but notice puts extra space between them. But that does nothing to cool the fury building in her stomach. If anything, it stokes the flame.

She stomps into his personal space and bats his hands away before using a strong finger to poke him in the chest of his suit.

“What the fuck is your problem, Matt? This is exactly the kind of thing I was on you to ask the team for help with.”

“And I did. I called you.” He sounds genuinely baffled as he points this out to her and for reasons that she can’t articulate, it causes her blood to boil. 

“Yeah, and I’m fucking ecstatic. But that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she snarks as she rolls her eyes at him.

“Jess, it’s not the first time I’ve been up against these guys. I can handle it. No, let me rephrase— we can handle it.”

“That’s not the point. It’s an unnecessary risk when we have a guy that’s literally bulletproof not even a borough away who would be all too happy to help us, I’m sure—”

“Yeah, but he was busy. It doesn’t matter anyway though, because you and I can handl—“

She barely even pauses enough to let him speak, let alone registers his words before cutting him off; she’s too busy digging her heels in. “You say that like we’re actually going to go through with this plan.”

“Because we are. Or at least … I am,” he says with a shrug. “I told you, I’ve taken this guy down before, guns and all, and he’s really not as dangerous as you seem to think—”

“Right. So was that before or after you nearly got yourself killed under a collapsing building?”

She can’t see his eyes, but she can tell his face has fallen by the pout of his mouth and the way his whole posture shrinks, like she’s punched him in the gut. “Jess. Come on. What does that have to do with this?”

At the sight of him, Jessica notices prickles of guilt that begin to gnaw at her stomach, but his words continue to fan the flames of anger, burning the guilt away. “Are you kidding? It has everything to do with this.”

“But I’m not being reckless. I’ve got a plan and I have you to help me. Plus, I’m in a much better head-space than I was last time. I could have already handled this on my own, but I was trying to show you I was making an effort by asking you to come with me.” He actually has the audacity to let incredulity slip into his voice. She nearly pops a blood vessel at the sound.

Jessica’s hands reflexively begin to ball into fists at her sides. Because he still just isn’t getting it. “Are you deliberately misunderstanding me at this point? Because, honestly, it’s kind of amazing if you aren’t.”

Matt puts a hand on his hip while rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “I don’t know what to tell you. I heard you and I took what you said to heart. I’ve been involving the team more often, and I’ve been making a conscious effort to be less reckless with my own safety. But I know what I’m doing. I was a vigilante long before I met you or the others, and I got along just fine—“

She doesn’t even try to stifle her scoff. “Judging by the patchwork of scars all over your body, that’s debatable at best, if not a full-fledged lie—“

Instinctively, she flinches as he interrupts her, voice raised and hands splayed out and pleading before him. 

“Jess, please. What do you want me to do? Hang up the mask altogether? Because that’s what I’m really hearing you say. But I-I can’t do that ... I won’t. This is a part of who I am, and I won’t give it up. Not even for you. No matter how much I … care about you.”

Jessica blinks at him, her fight, flight, or freeze response engaging as the hair on her arms stands on end. She sucks in a shaky breath as he continues, voice low and raw, like he’s struggling to get the words out.

“I know you don’t like ultimatums, Jess. I don’t either, but I’m tired of this … ” he sighs heavily as he gestures between them, “ … this argument. I don’t want to fight about this anymore.” A red-hot flare of anxiety goes off in Jessica’s stomach as his voice trails off to a whisper. The words are nearly lost to the light breeze picking up on the rooftop. 

But she hears him anyway, and her heart plummets to her feet. And suddenly her tongue, which moments before was lithe and fiery is now leaden and stuck in her mouth. A tense and silent beat passes as she struggles to remember how to breathe. Before she can, though, he continues.

“So I guess it’s your turn to decide what this relationship really means to you. Because if we’re gonna be together, I need you to believe that I’m trying. And I need you to trust me with this.”

Jessica stands completely still for a beat— freeze the survival response winning out for the moment— save for her trembling lip as the rage and heartbreak warring in her chest threaten to break through the mask of her face. Her breathing is an exaggerated rhythm of shuddering inhales and harsh exhales while she tries to quiet her rushing thoughts, and just as she thinks the heartbreak is about to win, one hot tear slides down her cheek. But as soon as she feels it, she wipes it away with an angry hand and that’s all it takes for the rage to win out.

It’s a quiet rage, though. A focused, white-hot kind like a laser shooting from her eyes and her mouth, all but immolating the world before her. She looks directly at him and dares him to cower from her gaze. 

“Don’t act like that’s not a big ask, Matt. It’s fucking huge and you know it. So forgive me if I can’t find it in me to watch you walk headfirst into your grave— again — for the ‘greater good’.” 

He doesn’t cower, doesn’t even flinch at the caustic tone she uses. All he does is swallow and drop his head to the ground silently as she finishes. 

She lets a tense beat hang in the air between them, waiting, giving him one last chance (and praying to a god she doesn’t even believe in for him to ask her, beg her to stay). But when he still says nothing, she rolls her shoulders and adjusts her jacket, then scoffs. 

“Well, good fucking luck, Daredevil. I hope you don’t get shot,” she spits at him, as she turns on her heel and bounds off toward the edge of the rooftop, jumping to the next building over. 

When she hears him call out her name, voice raw and desperate, she can’t help another tear from rolling down her cheek.

“Jess, hey, come on. Please? Jess? Come back, Jess. Jess?” 

But with another few bounding leaps, she loses the sound in the ambient noises of the city.

“Dammit, Jess, don’t … Jess! Please... Jess… Jess…”

—-

Jessica waits until she’s jumped a few more blocks over (Matt’s super senses be damned) before she yanks her phone out of her pocket and dials Trish.

“Hey Jess. What’s up?”

“You still got my whiskey of choice on hand at your apartment?”

“Yes … but do I want to know why you’re asking?” Trish asks with palpable hesitation.

She sighs, eyes closing as she replays the last thirty minutes in her head. “Well, I think Matt and I might have just broken up, so—“

“Oh my god! Jess, what happened?!”

“Look, I’m already on the way. I’ll tell you when I get there. But I’ll need booze first. Lots of it.”

“Yeah, I’ll have it ready for you.”

“Great. I’ll be there in like, ten minutes.”

“Are you alright?”

“No. But that’s why I’m inviting myself over. ‘Engaging my support system’ or whatever the fuck. Be proud, or something.”

“Jess, where are you? I could come pick yo—“

“And Trish?”

Jessica would almost swear she can feel the reverberations of the sigh Trish gives travel through the phone. “... Yeah?”

“Leave your balcony door unlocked.”

“... Right.”

—

As soon as Jessica gets to Trish’s apartment, she makes a beeline for the counter, where an unopened bottle of Jim Bean waits for her next to a glass tumbler. She bypasses the tumbler and cracks opens the cap, swigging generously from the bottle. 

Trish watches from the end of the counter in concerned bafflement. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Bringing the back of her hand up to wipe her mouth, Jessica sighs. “Hi. Whatever. Sorry. It’s been a pretty fucking shitty night, okay?”

“So I heard. What exactly happened?”

Jessica takes another swig, then leans forward on the counter with her elbows, picking at the label on the bottle.

“Matt called me earlier and said he had a job he wanted to do tonight— an arms dealer he wanted to put out of business— and he was requesting back-up. So I show up at the spot, but it’s just him and me there. No Danny, no Luke.”

Trish nods at Jessica, encouraging her to continue. “Uh huh. So?”

“So, I immediately get pissed because I thought all four of us were going to be taking this operation down, but apparently he wants to do it with just the two of us.”

Trish narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning a hip against the counter. “And you were pissed because…” 

“Because this is the same kind of bullshit I’ve been warning him not to do, since the last time he tried, he got shot in the fucking stomach. So I remind him of that, and then he acts all confused about why I’m mad, saying he called me for help and asking me what more I wanted him to do.”

Trish hums. “So how did you respond to that?”

“I told him he was missing the fucking point and that he still wasn’t taking his safety seriously enough. And I reminded him of his genius plan at Midland Circle.”

“I’m guessing that went over well,” Trish says with a flat voice.

“Like a fucking lead balloon. And then he got all pissy and hurt and basically told me I was being unfair and that what I was really asking was for him to quit being Daredevil.”

Trish looks up at Jess, her eyes as big as dinner plates. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And then … he said that he couldn’t do that, no matter how much he might care about me.” Jessica stares into the distance for a moment after she speaks, then chugs at least a shot and half’s worth of whiskey in one swallow.

Trish sighs, concern on her face. “What did you do when he said that?”

“Nothing. I was shocked. And so fucking angry I could barely see straight. So then he gave me some bullshit ultimatum that I either learn to trust him as Daredevil or we’re done because he couldn’t stand to have this fight anymore.”

Carefully edging a little closer along the counter, Trish’s voice is very quiet when she speaks. “And what did you say?”

“I told him that it was too big an ask and he knew it. Then I told him not to get shot. And I was bitchy about it. Then I left.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, I know. What a dick move, right? I mean, you think you know a person—“

“What, Jess… you can’t be serious.”

With an appalled scoff, Jessica turns a deadly glare on Trish that communicates the fact that she is very serious. 

But Trish is unfazed. “Don’t you think he has a point?”

At this, Jessica turns from leaning on the counter to face Trish directly, mirroring her pose with her arms crossed over her chest. “No. I don’t.”

Trish uncrosses her arms and steeples her hands together, as if searching carefully for the exact words to use.

“Jess, you know I’m the first one in your corner. Always. But I don’t think he’s in the wrong here. I’m just saying—“

Jessica interrupts Trish with a wounded look. “How could you… ? Have you forgotten what he did? How reckless he was?”

“You mean what he did months ago when he almost died? And after which he has been making a serious effort to be less reckless? At your insistence?”

“Yeah, until tonight,” Jessica counters with a pointed look and biting tone to match.

“So, what would you have wanted him to do differently? He already called you,” Trish says as she leans one hand on the counter and places the other on her hip. 

Jessica pauses and glares at her, not liking where she thinks the conversation might be headed. “Y-yeah. Well ... he could have called the rest of the team. Or at least Danny, since Luke was busy-“

A sudden shock runs through Trish and her jaw drops. Eyes wide, she gasps and crosses down the counter to Jessica. “Wait, how do you know that?”

Jessica drops her arms flatly to her sides. “Well, Matt said—“ 

“What was that?!” Trish interrupts Jessica, urgency on her face and in her voice that Jessica can’t place.

“Jesus, what? Why are you freaking out?” Jessica says as she turns to take another drink of whiskey.

“Jess, are you hearing yourself? Matt called Luke. In addition to calling you. He asked for help, but apparently Luke was busy. So who knows? Maybe he called Danny too, but they were both busy. But just because Luke couldn’t come doesn’t mean you should be punishing Matt for still wanting to be Daredevil. Don’t you think he’s more than paid his penance at this point?”

The flame of anger in Jessica’s stomach that had been slowly guttering and dying as she put more distance between herself and Matt now flares to life again, blazing bright. She chugs two shots’ worth of whiskey and slams the bottle down as hard as she dares without breaking it against Trish’s expensive marble countertop.

“Not if he’s going to continue to put himself in the same needlessly life-threatening situations over and over again.”

Trish shakes her head and seems to deflate, giving a resigned shrug. 

“Then is Matt right? Do you want him to quit? Because that isn’t fair. You knew being Daredevil was important to him going in. And his desire to save the world is actually part of what you love about him, whether or not you’re willing to admit it.”

Jessica pushes off of the counter and starts pacing, running nervous hands through her hair. “Well I don’t love it enough to sit around and wait for him to die because of it. Again,” she snarls. 

Trish’s entire demeanor changes at that. She sighs, melancholy in her voice. “Is that really what this is about?”

Instead of answering her, Jessica returns to the counter and slams another shot. 

But Trish correctly (and annoyingly) interprets her silence as confirmation. Trish creeps closer, voice soft and low, as if in an effort not to spook her. “Have you considered trying to explain what it is you’re afraid will happen?”

Jessica snaps her head over at Trish. “I’m not afraid. Why the hell would you think I’m afraid?”

Trish crosses her arms again and fixes Jessica with an arch look. “Hmm. Of course not. So you’d feel perfectly comfortable explaining to him why you completely lost your shit tonight? ‘Cause you know, some people actually share their thoughts and feelings with those they care about.”

“Yeah, and some people walk on burning hot coals for fun, but that doesn’t mean I plan to do that,” Jessica says with a sneer as she takes another drink of whiskey. She feels Trish’s gaze on her but ignores it, staring blankly out into space as a heavy silence falls. 

Eventually, Trish shakes her head and rubs her eyes before turning to Jessica with a solemn look on her face.

“You are standing on a precipice right now. Depending on how you choose to handle this, you could lose him. For good. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Better now than when he’s lying dead under a pile of rubble somewhere because he just couldn’t quit being the hero,” Jessica spits, throwing back one last shot.

“... Right. Because if you leave him now it hurts less or protects you from pain in the future somehow?” Trish poses it as a question, but uses a tone that sounds like she’s not really asking. And Jessica doesn’t like the air of judgement she hears instead.

“At least it gives me the fucking choice.”

“So you’re telling me, honestly and truly, this is what you want? This is the ‘choice’ you want to make? To walk away from the one person who you’ve ever really cared about— and who cared about you— because you’re scared?”

This is the last straw. Jessica has let Trish say and get away with a lot tonight (and in general, lately) but this is a bridge too far. Her hands curl reflexively into fists at her sides and she turns on her heel, acidic words already forming on her tongue. 

“Fuck you! You’re one to fucking talk about being scared in relationships—“

But Trish seems to have prepared for this storm, and doesn’t so much as flinch against Jessica’s words. “Which is why I still go to therapy, Jess. To own my shit. And to continue to work through it. Maybe you should try that sometime. But that’s beside the point and I won’t let you derail the conversation by trying to change the focus to me. Are you seriously okay with him walking out of your life like this? Because you might not be able to fix it later if you’re not.”

Just like that, all the fight goes out of Jessica. Because for the first time all night she starts to seriously consider the possibility of losing Matt. And where anger had been raging in her stomach moments before, now only an endless, horrifying black hole of pain and doubt and terror remain. 

“...F-fuck! I don’t know,” she sputters, anxious hands back in her hair.

“Well, I think you should take some time to figure that out. So you can be sure.”

Forcing a deep, slow breath, Jessica closes her eyes and leans against the counter while she regains her composure. “Fine. Point taken.”

She pushes off the counter and reaches for the bottle of Jim Bean, but Trish catches her wrist and gives her a meaningful look. 

“Some clarity of thought might help you too.”

Jessica shoots her an irritated glare. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Trish closes her eyes and sighs, dropping her hand from Jessica’s wrist. “Jess, do what you want, but I’m just trying to help. You two have a good thing going here, and I don’t think it’s too late to fix it. Not yet.”

With a derisive scoff, Jessica snatches the bottle by the neck and puts it in her messenger bag. “Gee thanks, Dr. Walker. Be sure to send me a bill for all of this fan-fucking-tastic advice.”

“You couldn’t afford me,” Trish deadpans as Jessica turns and stalks to the door of the apartment. Jessica scoffs and flips her off over her shoulder for good measure. But as she opens the door to leave, she catches Trish’s eyes one last time and the hope and encouragement she sees there gives her a modicum of comfort for what she has to do.

---

The whiskey bottle clinks and sloshes inside of Jessica’s bag with every movement she makes, but she doesn’t reach for it as she walks. After fuming for a few blocks about Trish’s insight and inability to let her get away with shit, Jessica’s anger recedes and she begrudgingly admits to herself that Trish might have been right— she needs to be sober if she has any hope of making a decision she’s not going to regret for the rest of her already miserable life. Or at the very least, she needs to not be drunk. 

Having gotten lost in her thoughts, she stops walking and looks around to find she’s gone on autopilot, walking mindlessly in the city she knows as well as her own name. But her feet have not been steering her home. Instead, they’ve been taking her on the increasingly familiar route to Matt’s apartment. And that has to be indicative of … something, even though she’s not sure quite what yet. 

She pulls out her phone and sees that it’s 10:39 pm, meaning that he’s likely still out and about Daredeviling … assuming things went fine with the arms dealer and he’s not bleeding out in an alley somewhere. She blocks that thought and decides to knock to see if he’s home, and if he doesn’t answer, she’ll wait for him on the rooftop. She’s honestly hoping he isn’t, as it will give her some time to think. 

When she gets to his place, she jogs inside and up the stairs and knocks as she planned to, and much to her relief she gets no response. So she jogs back down the stairs, then walks around to the alley and jumps up to the roof to wait him out and to do some serious processing. Finding a vent to rest against, Jessica plops down, one leg up and the other splayed out on the rooftop, as she grabs the whiskey from her messenger bag. She unscrews the cap and takes a sip, but she’s mindful not to take too much. She doesn’t want to get drunk. She just needs to take a little of the edge off. 

And then she waits. She waits and she thinks. She thinks and she waits. And occasionally she drinks. But mostly she forces herself to really consider how she’s going to feel if she wakes up tomorrow knowing she can’t call or text or touch or kiss or see Matt ever again. And when she can barely stand to entertain the thought, that’s telling in and of itself. 

A part of her tries to argue that she knows what it feels like because she’s done it already— when she thought he was dead after Midland Circle— and though it tore her to pieces, it’s better than getting closer and closer to him until the point where he might actually die (whether from his own pride and heroics or due to the inevitability of the human condition). But then she pictures his smile, the smirking one that’s her favorite, that spreads across his face like a sunset and sets off sparks in her stomach. And she imagines his voice, soft and low like it gets when it’s just the two of them, like he knows mysteries she can only imagine. And then she remembers the warmth of his embrace, and how it makes her feel safer and more secure than she’s felt in years, as if the mooring that she thought she had lost, he helped her to regain. And tears start streaming down her face. Because she’s made a mistake. A big one. Maybe the biggest of her life, and she has plenty with which to compare. One she’s praying to any and all deities who will listen that she can fix before it’s too late. 

Because she knows in this moment that she’d rather spend whatever time is given to her— a month, a week, a day— with him than live another hour without him. In spite of how much she knows it will one day hurt when, for whatever reason, they aren’t together, she doesn’t want to be the reason they aren’t together now. 

And Trish was right. She’s being unfair. Matt has been trying and she hasn’t wanted to see it because she’s been so afraid. Afraid of being honest about her true feelings. Afraid of losing the only successful and healthy relationship she’s ever had. Afraid to upset the carefully constructed balance she has achieved in her life. But she has to afford him the trust he’s asking for. The trust he deserves. Daredevil is a part of him and she loves that he is so idealistic and cares so much about helping others, even if it sometimes makes her sick with worry. But when she takes a step back, that worry seems a small price to pay in exchange for all that she gets in return. 

A thud at the other end of the rooftop breaks her out of her thoughts and she startles, her heart racing. She looks up to see Matt has landed on the building and is standing from a crouch. She forces herself to take a deep breath because that means it’s finally showtime. 

“Gotta be honest— I really hoped you’d be here. Especially when you weren’t home,” he says, voice neutral and calm. But his careful pace belies his anxiety as he slowly moves across the rooftop towards her. 

Jessica stands and adjusts her jacket as she does. “You trying to stalk me, Murdock?” she asks, her voice a more tame and only slightly forced version of the typical teasing drawl she’d use in a situation like this.

But he doesn’t tease back. His tone is as earnest as the expression on his face as he removes his helmet. “Jess, I wanted to apolog—“

“Why?” she cuts him off with an even tone and a shrug. “I think we both know I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Matt blinks a few times at her, but otherwise hides his surprise at her sudden self-awareness. He crosses a few steps closer to lean against a vent jutting out of the rooftop floor as he puts down his helmet and begins pulling off his gloves. 

“Yeah, okay. I’m listening.”

A flush rises on Jessica’s cheeks because she hates being put on the spot. But she knows she needs to do this. So she puts her hands in her pockets and looks down at her shoes for a moment while she practices the words she plans to say in her head. Matt is patient all the while, giving her a curious, almost baffled expression.

“You were right,” she finally sighs, the words stiff and stilted in her mouth. But she forces herself to continue. “I was being unfair and I wasn’t acknowledging the efforts you were making. And … I’m sorry.”

Jessica glances up to check Matt’s expression to see how he’s responding, and she’s surprised when he’s basically beaming at her. 

“Wow, Jess. I appre—”

“Wait,” she says, holding her hand up to halt him, afraid to lose her momentum if she stops now. “I’m not done, and I’m only gonna say this once.”

Matt flattens his lips to swallow a chuckle and gives a small nod for her to continue. 

Her hands don’t return to her pockets as she prepares to speak again, but her gaze does return to her shoes. She doesn’t think he’ll mind. It takes a little longer to work up the courage to open her mouth this time, because these are harder words to say. So much harder. But she’s come this far. She takes a deep and slow breath hoping it will give her some strength. 

“I know you don’t want to have this argument anymore, and honestly I don’t either. So, I know I need to trust you with your vigilante bullshit. I never really meant for you to give up Daredevil. It’s just …” She trails off, emotion swelling in her chest and closing up her throat. 

Matt gives her a sad smile as he takes a step in her direction. “Jess—“

But she blows out a long exhale and flexes her hands a few times as the feeling passes and she cuts him off, eager to keep her momentum. “Look, I’m not trying to beat a dead horse here, but in addition to the handful of minor injuries you’ve sustained since, you almost died last year, Matt. And you disappeared for months.”

Chagrined, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I know—“

“But it’s more than that,” she says as she continues to talk over him, refusing to stop until she’s done and the weight of her confession has lifted. “I almost lost you then, and you weren’t even mine to lose. You were just some blind but surprisingly coordinated asshole in fetish gear who had managed to worm his way into my head over a period of several crisis-fueled days. But now? If it happens again … I don’t know what I’d do. And I don’t want to know. Because I don’t honestly know if I could handle it. I just … can’t. Not again. Do you get me? I can’t.”

The other words she can’t say, those humongous and terrifying three words that underline this whole argument hang in the air between them. She spares a passing thought of gratitude that he can’t truly see her, because she’s sure they’re written all over her face. But she’s probably just fooling herself. Even if he isn’t sighted, he can likely read all the other signs that give her away, if he isn’t just reading her mind (and there are times she’s still half convinced he can).

An excruciating beat passes and Jessica starts to give serious thought to all of the different ways she could escape the rooftop, how quickly she could snatch her messenger bag and whiskey before breaking into a run, or whether she should leave it all and circle back later. But after a few seconds that feel like eons, Matt crosses to her, close enough that he could reach out and touch her, though he doesn’t. Not yet. 

“I understand, Jess. Very well. Because I also had a similar realization after you took off tonight and left me standing alone at that warehouse. And I can’t lose you either. I won’t.” Matt reaches out and takes her hands, which she reluctantly gives him, a guarded look on her face.

“Unfortunately, I can’t promise you that nothing will ever happen, or that I’ll always be safe or that I won’t ever make a mistake or an error in judgment ever again.”

Jessica rolls her eyes and scoffs at him as she pulls from his grasp, but he gives her the slightest bit of resistance with his right hand and holds it out to her for a moment as she pulls away. 

“ … But I can promise you that I love you. And if that’s not enough proof that I am fully committed to keeping myself as safe as I can for as long as God will allow me to walk this earth? Well, at this point, I’m out of ideas.”

Her heart starts beating in triple time at his confession, and she is suddenly certain that he must have understood what she was not explicitly saying earlier. But for the first time in her adult life she allows herself to truly believe that it might not be a bad thing. To love. To be loved. To be vulnerable and invested in another person, even if losing that person one day would cause an incredible amount of pain. She’s already survived a lot of pain in her life, so she could probably handle it. Maybe it’s time to fully embrace the good she could experience by admitting her feelings, in spite of the what future pain may or may not be a product of such good.

“Typical lawyer. Always got to throw yourself on the mercy of the court and make an impassioned speech.”

“Is it working?”

She crosses the distance between them in one heartbeat, wraps her hands around his head and pulls him in for a fiery kiss in the next.

“Does that answer your question?” she asks flatly after finally releasing him as they both surface for air. 

“It lacks a certain eloquence, but it’ll do,” he says as he smirks at her. 

She kisses him again, hard, before he can say anything else. What need does she have for eloquence if she has him? And for now, she is content to know that she will have him as long as she can, whatever length of time that might be.

Day 30 | Tumblr Masterlist | Full Series Collection on AO3 

[blackcatanna]

Kinky TB Adventures (probably) with Okita Part 1: Kyoto Winds

Finally playing another Hakuoki route because I spent 10 hours travelling yesterday and I deserve some imaginary romance, damn it! Choosing Okita because he seems fun and I hate that he disappears from the story pretty early on in most routes and then dies off screen :'(

WARNING: I wrote a lot :) 

Intro:

I don't know why but Kodo's evil old man face made me laugh so much during the intro.

Playing the prologue because it has a hearty chunk of Okita in it and it's been a while since I played the game.

Chizuru talking about the invisible wall between herself and other people is relatable af :')

"I'm not sure if I belong here... No. No, that's all in my head." < < < ME. Hello imposter syndrome, my old friend :')

I now feel like a li'l bitch for complaining about my journey yesterday when Chizuru WALKED nearly 500KM from Edo to Kyoto X_X

I'm loving this old timey film effect on the Kodo flashback.

I feel like Kodo's actions and motivations change depending on the route so I'm not going to try too hard to wrap my head around them here.

I love that "Ronin" is basically shorthand for "Evil Douchebag Thug" in this game X_X

Yukimura: "Be careful, father! Kyoto is a dangerous place!" Also Yukimura: "I have nothing to fear because I look like a BOY :) " Selfless but foolish X_X Although, you could argue that being reckless is selfish because it disregards your loved ones' feelings, should you get hurt.

At least the game gives these ronin names :') although... they don't have eyes. I think I'd rather have eyes, if I had to choose.

"I could still hear the ronin cursing loudly" I just have an image of these three guys running through the streets of Kyoto yelling, "FUCK. SHIT. PISS. ASS."

This game invested a lot in blood effects and sounds and I respect and appreciate that.

"He died with the first blow" Silver linings?

"They were... broken" :'(

Awe, the furies look so happy to see me :') JK, this scene is appropriately chilling. They do have big smiles, though.

More blood splashes and visceral blood descriptions :')

Okita, your sadism is showing.

Or maybe he knows that Saito doesn't like killing his comrades and that's why he wanted to kill them first :O :O :O

"if you just sat back and let them kill the kid, you could have saved us some trouble." -_- I enjoy Okita's banter but I have a feeling that it's going to be a bit one sided because Chizuru doesn't do back talk X_X

WAIT A FUCKING SECOND, WHY IS OKITA NOT BLINKING?!??

Oh here we go. Let's take a moment to worship Hijikata. I still think that Saito and Okita are better looking but sure, let's take a break to gush about "smooth, dark hair" in the moonlight and "the wistfulness of flower petals" "as if the cherry trees were blooming out of season" X_X ick.

HEY. CHIZURU. REMEMBER WHO RESCUED YOU. IT WASN'T THIS FUCKER.

OH GOD, IT CONTINUES, "His voice was cold and quiet, like a blade of ice. Blue-white moonlight lit his slender face.." blah blah ick.

OH, WE'RE STILL NOT DONE?!? "But it wasn't the sword making my breath catch. It was his eyes. They were fierce and hard, but somewhere behind them... I could catch a glimpse of... something else." Blah blah, troubled, mercy, blah

"Run, and I will kill you. Do you understand?" SPLOOSH (yes, I have been watching Archer)

I was sort of joking about being aroused by threats of violence but swords are definitely sexier than... whatever that whole flowery passage was...

Okita still is not blinking O_O

Hijikata telling Okita to shut up is a mood. Sorry, Okita.

Okay, NOW Okita's blinking. Guess all it took was Hijikata suggesting that they're going to kill me for a change. Apparently, only Okita's allowed to threaten to murder me X_X

Side note: if anyone reads this and is wondering if I'm aware that I switch between "You", "Me" and "Chizuru" then yes, I am and no, I don't care.

Apparently, Okita blinking was a fluke. Maybe he only blinks when he is pushed off stride or, like, flustered or surprised?

Also, I don't tend to think of Okita as being especially tall but he's taller than Hijikata!

"So we should just kill people now?" Um... you don't do that?

"What?! Come on, you can't be serious" HE SAID, BLINKING AND THUS BACKING UP MY THEORY.

"Almost as if I was being... drawn into their world..." Oh dear! We wouldn't want that to happen, that's not why we bought the game at all! :P

"A world where there is nothing strange in carrying on a normal conversation in the dead of night with corpses for company." Edgy. Although, I hope that this conversation is far from normal O_O

"As you wish." Hijikata is Saito's Princess Buttercup. I'm not jealous.

WHOA. I was just musing about death as usual and now Okita's RIGHT UP IN MY FACE.

"We did save you, didn't we?" WELL, TECHNICALLY, Saito saved me. You suggested letting the furies KILL ME.

"I didn't realise right away he was speaking to me." How? He's taking up the entire screen?

"Thank you very much." Fair. "I apologise for not thanking you earlier." Okay, calm down. It's not like they gave you a chance to speak in between death threats.

"The man called Hajime also looked confused. His eyes were wide and he had an expression I couldn't place." Then allow me: STARTLED ERMINE. Hijikata's is DISGRUNTLED HORSE and Okita's is SMUG LYNX. Aka: how three different animals react to the discovery that their prey is a girl. I know that horses don't hunt prey. However, they do have to deal with it when their animal subordinates unwittingly capture it.

"He broke out in laughter again, so much so that he was forced to wipe a few tears from his eyes" I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU'RE HAVING SUCH A JOLLY TIME, YOU ASS.

Now that he's figured out that I'm a girl, he's suddenly keen to introduce himself :P

"The one you should be thanking for saving you is Hajime Saito" CORRECT.

Is he deliberately trying to let him kill me by giving out as much info as possible? O_o

"His fingers like iron cables around my arm." Kinky.

"The cause of my horror wasn't the gruesome end that awaited me, but something else entirely." Hanging out with these crazy fuckers.

Chapter 1:

Damn, I wrote a lot more than I had expected for the prologue X_X

"My limbs were tightly bound in tight knots" I wouldn't be surprised if Okita was a shibari expert...

"This is no way to treat a guest of ours" Obviously, Inou-bae is trying to be kind but this feels like something a supervillain would say after their minions bring you to their lair X_X

"he smiled at me and winked" get this man a route! Actually, wait, how old is Chizuru... OKAY, FORGET I SAID THAT. NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO FLIRT WITH THIS 16 YEAR OLD GIRL. Although, maybe a dad route? No romance, just familial love. He's a better dad than Kodo. NO DADDY KINKS ALLOWED.

Apparently, Harada and Nagakura being "lively" is supposed to reassure me?!

Ah, Okita and his hilarious jokes about invading my personal space.

I'm so glad that Saito doesn't let him get away with this nonsense <3

And now we're sticking up for Saito and calling out Okita's bs <3

"the smile lingered through his bright eyes" Oo-er

"He looked more like a boy than a man." Says you!

The baka trio look so done X_X

"Their faces were still blessed with youth" Phew. Looks like we'll have some eye candy while we're brutally executed.

A STICK?!? THEY'RE CALLING ME A STICK?! HAVE THEY NOT SEEN THE ANIME INTRO?! CHIZURU HAS TITS!!!

"The hell I will, boy!" Calm down, Kratos.

"You could be taken for interrogating" not if you assholes don't make such a song and dance about me witnessing your shady activities! How would anybody know to interrogate me in the first place?!

"Let's just kill the kid" How about no!!!

"I was just kidding." WERE YOU, or did you just change your tune because daddy Kondou told you off? -_- I don't think Saito's buying your shit.

"Hehe." XD best response!

Side note, how am I the first person to witness the furies in action?! They run around the streets, chopping people up and there are already rumours about the Shinsengumi committing brutal crimes.

Also, how often do they sentence men to death? There are a lot of men in the fury corps and I bet that some choose death or try and run for it and die in the process.

"I think that Souji has a point" BOO, HARADA!

"Uh-oh. Well, this is going to make it even harder for us to simply let you go..." He's doing the not blinking thing again! Maybe that's because his prey is in his sights... O_O Also, thanks a lot, Heisuke X_X

"A man should always be ready to face death. You should make your peace with yours." Okay, first of all, I look like a child to you! Secondly, bit sexist! Not all men choose the path of the warrior. Thirdly, AS IF, I'm just going to lay down and accept my POINTLESS murder just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. No, Nagakura, I am NOT okay with being MURDERED. How dare you imply that I'm a coward for not wanting to die for this BULLSHIT.

Not sure if I mentioned this last time but Sano's casual suicide comments remind me of being at uni :')

"there's something I want to look into." Is it my stuff? Are you going to go through my stuff now? X_X

"I... I'm sorry." I forgive you, Heisuke! As for everyone else who's acting like this is all my fault and you've done nothing wrong, fuck you. Y'all shouldn't be doing evil science in the first place, especially if you're then going to try and justify MURDERING everyone who glimpses the evulz.

This whole bit reminds me of a DnD party where everyone's arguing over whether or not to kill someone. This is definitely more like a DnD argument than your average movie argument X_X

"All right, Saito, take care of the kid." 😍 Yes, Saito, take care of me :D NOT IN A MURDERY WAY O_O

Time to RUN THE FUCK AWAY. Maybe, if they hadn't acted like murdering assholes, I wouldn't be doing this but they don't seem to give a fuck about me so AWAY I GO.

"I knew it was rude, but I had no choice but to try and open the sliding door with my toe." Priorities X_X They kidnapped you, tied you up and threatened to kill you countless times. Honey, you stick it to those fuckers with your shady toe opening.

WE DIDN'T EVEN MAKE IT OUT OF THE ROOM!!!

"Sorry," No your not -_- "but now we've got to kill you." No you don't!

"Then you may do whatever you like with me." Um, why is this the Okita romance option? XD Don't say those words to that sadist, who knows what he wants to do to you! O_O

"We aren't going to eat you or anything." ...Damn X_X I hope that your stance changes if we get married.

"Heh. Never seen such an innocent girl like you." Ugh. As if. Running around dressed as a boy. Can't be that innocent. Certainly not if he read my last comment :P . Anyway, YOU SOUND CREEPY, TALKING LIKE THAT XD

"All right, all right. Now, tell your big brother... Why were you cross-dressing around Kyoto?" THA FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL YOURSELF?!?? And MIND YOUR DAMN BUSINESS XD DON'T KINK SHAME ME!

"Well, 'she' claims to be a girl, but it's not like we have any actual proof, right?" Um, I'M not the one who said that I'm a girl and I DON'T LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING. I WILL FIGHT YOU FUCKERS IF YOU COME NEAR ME >:(

"My apologies, but I took the liberty of checking through your belongings." I wouldn't mind, except NOT ONCE did they give me a chance to explain myself or plead my case. He could have just asked whatever he wanted to know and then checked my bags to verify it X_X

"Hey now," HEY NOW, NOW, sing this corrosion to me... No? I'll be quiet :(

"So, you've been withholding information from us?" YOU BARELY GAVE ME A CHANCE TO SPEAK, YOU DICK!

Welp, they've agreed not to kill me and yet Okita's still taking it upon himself to threaten me with death while fixing me with his unblinking, predatory stare X_X

"Gee, didn't take long for you to change your tune once you knew she was a girl, eh Shin?" TRUTH

"Having a lady here at headquarters is sure to brighten things up." Joke's on you: I'm a goth ;P

"you can't just pawn her off on someone else." Okita, nooooooo! Don't make me work for this grumpy bitch!

"I hope you you'll take good care of her." Wink wink, nudge nudge. What's the matter, Hijikata senpai? Am I not pretty enough for you? :'(

"You sons of BITCHES." HEY. HIJIKATA. NO NEED TO INSULT THEIR INNOCENT MOTHERS. Just call them straight up bitches :)

"The Shinsengumi keeping a woman here... If such rumours were to spread, tongues would begin to wag." Yeah, yeah, so we might as well just all fuck. People are going to say we're doing it, regardless, so let's get this over with...

Or I could keep pretending to be a man. That could also work.

"You're gonna get a room, and you're gonna stay in it." FUCK YOU

"I could have sworn we decided she was going to be someone's page" O_O FUCK YOU EVEN MORE, OKITA.

So... lonely... must... find... friends...

Okita and Saito friends :D

When I first played this game, I was really keen to find my "father" but now that I know what he's like, it's hard to muster quite the same level of enthusiasm X_X

"Draw your blade, unless it is merely decoration." Spicy! I'm glad that Yukimura is not so easily goaded into fighting.

"I'm not lying." You tell him, girl!

Saito and Okita's stunned faces when you suggest that you might accidentally hurt Saito are priceless! X_X I guess this shows that you take this seriously, though.

"Excuse me... You don't have to laugh..." XD Is this almost sassy?

Surprise, Okita likes it when I do what he says despite understandable reservations XD

Saito looks way too happy to be doing this XD was this just a chance for him to show off? :P

IS HE LAUGHING AT ME?!? XD RUDE!

WHA THA FUCK. I think that it was a glitch but there were suddenly about seven Saitos on screen. Maybe that's what it feels like when you're fighting him.

Woah, it happened again, only this time there were two and one was squashed.

I'm fine with there being more Saitos.

Aaaaand he's holding a sword at my throat... Sploosh? Shut up, swords are sexy. I probably watched too many period and fantasy films as a child...

"In the blink of an eye, his face was only inches from mine," O RLY? 😏 WAIT, I'm supposed to be playing Okita's route X_X Must... stop getting distracted...

"Your master should be proud." SAY IT AGAIN 😍

"I then noticed how wildly my heart was beating." Though not from fear, right? ;)

"You all right?" Kind words? FROM OKITA?!?

"polite applause" FROM OKITA!?!

"If you want, we'll keep you company." Yes, Okita, obviously I want that :D

First sign of madness: talking to your own head!

Okita could look less smug about catching me talking to myself -_-

"I wanted to scream, but before I could open my mouth, Saito stepped out from behind the door." X_X Well, they did say they'd keep me company.

"I think that's enough fraternising, Souji." Wait a second...

"I figured if I left the two of you alone, it would be longer before I saw either of you," ... Why does that sound slightly risqué? -_- I feel like this scene changes slightly depending on your affection levels...

-_- The only reason Heisuke is short is because Nagakura's stunted his growth by constantly stealing his food.

"How are we to deal with accepting such insanity?" MOOD.

Wait, does Okita subsist entirely on sake?! O_O

"Try not to worry about eating too much or being a freeloader or something. Just eat your little heart out, okay?" Surprisingly wholesome content from Okita :')

Takeda! <3 My douchey doppelganger!

"your adorable page" -_- Watch it, "big brother"

"I'm not having any of your insolence today." Hijikata temporarily transforming into a villainous English aristocrat.

And after aaaaallll that, I'm just going to stay behind to spend some quality time with Okita, probably X_X

"Huh!? Why? You're finally getting the chance to search for Kodo." GOOD POINT. However, gotta get that dick, amirite?

"Perhaps, I should have gone..." YUP. PROBABLY.

"Are you regretting it? If you are, then you should've just gone with them." TRUTH.

"He smiled wryly before continuing while touching my chin." WEEEEOOOOA WEEEEEOOOOA PHYSICAL CONTACT ALARM. WE HAVE INITIATED PHYSICAL CONTACT. IT WAS WORTH STAYING BEHIND AFTER ALL!

"You don't regret it at all? Not even if you knew that Hajime and I went out of our way to convince Hijikata?" Aw, y'all did that for me? Yeah, this is a terrible decision X_X Except for the part with the chin touching. I guess stalking you overrides all logic?

"I was surprised. Saito did make that promise" and what? You thought he was a liar? Girl.

"It was actually Hajime that convinced Hijikata." Not sure if Okita's being modest but this is making it reeeeally hard for me to stop myself fangirling over Saito. Again.

"When I see Saito later, I need to apologise and give my thanks to him." YOU BETTER. >:(

Did he just call me useless (in a battle)? XD I mean, he's not wrong... As we will no doubt soon find out...

Wait, wait... He just said that if I'm in danger, I will become a nuisance and he'll FRICKIN' STAB ME. WHAT?! DOESN'T THAT MAKE YOU THE GREATEST DANGER, OKITA!??

Chapter 2:

Did we ever apologise to Saito? X_X

"Please allow me to continue looking for my father!" Where was this enthusiasm earlier -_-

"If you want that risk, feel free to join us." Ooooooh, scary.

"Remember that you're here to keep me company" Um, excuse me!?

Burn down the city and kidnap the Emperor while everyone else is "losing their shit." This seems like the plan of crazy people o_O

"Would you care to join us." Kondou's making this raid sound like a dinner party X_X

Chizuru getting distracted by the more "elegant" night uniforms while preparing for the raid is a Big Mood.

Am I going crazy or does this game normally give me more choices here? Am I being paranoid or is it now shipping me with Okita? Can't I normally choose to go with Hijikata or stay behind?

"Giving the enemy a good, loud warning that he's about to kick the tar out of them. That's Kondou for you..." Okita kind of has a point X_X

"They sauntered towards the inn" Quite the image.

Oh shit! Okita's fighting Kazama O_O

"Okita was battling a ronin." Damn, you're lucky that Kazama can't read minds X_X

"Thanks for the dance, chump." -_- Kazama's such a dick.

"You're our enemy, so you've gotta die." Okita's philosophy is simple and elegant.

"His sword moved in large, crude arcs, while Okita fought with skill and finesse." Wow, SUPER glad that Kazama can't read minds O_O

EXECUTE PLAN: HURL BOWL AT KAZAMA.

IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE: OKITA SENPAI NOTICED ME.

Wait... WHAT WAS THAT "WET CRUNCH" WHEN KAZAMA KICKED OKITA'S CHEST!??!? O_O IS THIS HOW HE GETS TB?!? O_O

"Wet, tearing coughs." OH FUCK O_O

"I like watching children squirm." WTF, Kazama. BEGONE, THOT.

:'O Injured Okita is trying to put himself between me and that crazy bitch <3

Oh damn, he is coughing e blood :'O

"What a fool" UUUURRRRGGGGH KAZAMA IS THE WORST. SOME PEOPLE CARE ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE, KAZAMA. AND SOME PEOPLE ARE WILLING TO PUT THEMSELVES IN DANGER BECAUSE THEY CARE ABOUT MORE THAN THEIR OWN SELFISH NEEDS.

"I... I can still fight..." NO.

"You always said you'd kill me if I got in your way..." OOOOOOOOOOOH! HERE WE GO! THE FAÇADE BEGINS TO SHOW CRACKS *munches popcorn*

Iba... y u no mention our shared childhood?

ISHIDA POWDERED MEDICINE.

Nagakura says that it's delicious... I wonder if it tastes like cough medicine. Cough medicine is delicious. And addictive...

"I would never have thought that Toudou or Okita would return from a fight injured..." Why, Inoue? Are skilled and strong warriors invincible?

"The injured are a burden, so we shall remain here and guard the compound like obedient soldiers." O_O Ouch, Sanan!

Wait, I don't get a choice to go with them?! I KNEW IT. THIS GAME KNOOOOOWS! I'm too far down the Okita path to turn back now, I guess.

"Um... " Chizuru is me trying to make small talk.

Weird isn't necessarily a bad thing, Chizuru! Take it as a compliment!

I feel bad for not realising how badly injured he got during the raid during my other playthroughs X_X

I thought that I'd somehow missed the scene with the children because this playthrough's taking so long because I'm making so many fricking notes X_X Turns out, I have a lot more to say when you actually get to spend time with the chosen boi.

"Oh, don't worry. I didn't kidnap them or anything." ... GOOD!????

"I was bored" Hey, I get lonesome too! Why can't you come play with me? D:

"They take care of me." Pretty cute. :3

"You wanna come play with us?" Duh!

"No" GURL

He really does look like a happy cat when he smiles!

Wow, these children have a lot of attitude.

"It's a place for men to do, um, work." Yes, just normal human work. Nothing funny going on here.

"They're catching bad guys and keeping Kyoto safe" "No, they're not. They're just killing people." These kids are SAVAGE :')

"Can't deny that" ... Way to back me up, Souji...

"I probably hear him talk about death everyday." Wait, really? What exactly does he have to say about death?

"The Shinsengumi are a bunch a weirdos." :') And that makes them extremely lovable!

Last time, I tried defending the Shinsengumi and Okita ended up terrorising a child so LET'S PICK THE OTHER OPTION AND SEE IF THERE'S LESS CRAZY...

"Don't tell me you're taking this seriously?" CHILDREN ARE THE FUTURE, OKITA!

"They all look like bad guys." Why? Because they're hot?

"I didn't know what I was supposed to do..." Uh, maybe tell this childries not to judge a book by its cover? Idk, maybe try and suggest that the world is not so black and white? Definitely don't mention the bloodlust.

"Grinning like an idiot." You're just jealous of his happiness, you cynical-ass child

"He's a wuss." UM, pretty sure he's the most powerful member of the Shinsengumi so stfu :P

"He grabbed the child" Oh dear... Here we go...

Okita! Use your words to teach the children a lesson! Not whatever this fucked up shit is X_X

Ah, ruling with fear! :') When has that ever backfired?

"I'll tell them I'm sorry. Then I'll tell them how awesome Kondou is." GUD. >:(

Uuuuugh, I'm so so tired and I've written so much CRAP so I will SLEEP and play the next bit tomorrow! :D

[colddisobedience-blog]

WINTER AND BUCKY

This headcanon is a long ass time coming but it’s going to be my go-to post in explaining the dynamic I have for The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. As a forewarning this post covers major abuse, mental health talk, suicidal ideals, deliberate triggers, emotional manipulation ect ect ect - if you’re having a bad day please skip ahead.

So after combing for too long through the Winter Soldier comics and re-watching the movies I started to notice a re-occuring theme in Winter and Bucky that had my attention and it mostly delves down to the terminology Bucky uses as well as Winters reactions to outside stimuli.

We all know what happened to Bucky, Hydra caught him, experimented on him with tests of the super soldier serum and began first trials of a new mind control and neurological adaptive technique. Under his time with them Bucky went through a lot of intrusive testing and mind fuckery - it was abuse down to the bone, plain and simple. But it didn’t just come in strapping him down and pumping him full of painful concoctions.

Hydra wanted to wipe all loyalty and personalisation of Bucky from his head and make him an asset that was entirely loyal to Hydra, but they didn’t want to loose his skills or experience in the field. Keeping in mind that Bucky was a sargeant at that point and a hell of a renowned sniper in his own right it would be a waste to rid of talents by setting his mind completely, they may as well have just raised children as they did with the red room for that.

No. They wanted to keep the skillset and tacticians mind but change his loyalties and obedience and in doing that they took away everything that made him Bucky. They rewrote his personality, they used reward techniques so that he would associate disobedience with pain and loyalty with reward. Hydra took away everything that influenced Bucky’s morality (his family, steve, his background) and finally his name so he wouldn’t be able to look into that should he actually wiggle out of their grasp.

They were left with an empty husk of ability but not mind so they gave him a name, a handler to become emotionally dependant on and they taught him their own version of morality. Winter’s a weapon, no doubt, but he’s still a person. He has to be. A weapon can’t think in the field, it can’t react, it can’t make calculated choices and a weapon can be loyal to anyone that handles it.

Winter is loyal only to his Handler. A way to ensure loyalty isn’t split and keep the amount of hands holding the leash to a minimum. A handler was enforced, stayed and given control of him. The Handler and the Handlers superior were the only ones who knew the trigger words for him, anyone not given control was beneath winter and the one holding him.

Every time Hydra wiped his mind they didn’t remove Winters training, they didn’t remove WINTER they just wiped BUCKY. The resets ensured Winter was the fronting personality, otherwise it’d be a waste of time. With the amount we know Bucky kept breaking out if they had to restart from scratch every single time and re-train winter it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

This specific strain of abuse, forcing someone to take an act that isn’t them, punishment for acting out of character - that strain of abuse caused Winter to have his own mindset entirely and a case of Dissociative Personality Disorder is honestly extremely likely.

Obviously it’s not canonly confirmed but - DISCLAIMER - as someone with DID the way that Bucky speaks of memory lapses, of whispers, of voices and actions he doesn’t remember and the way Winter so violently responds to being called Bucky, the visible dissociation when Bucky starts coming forward? It all fits the box.

DISCLAIMER PART 2: Don’t take this as me feeding a stereotype I’m very much not. Not everyone with DID is evil, DID isn’t a violent horrible thing and it isn’t the string of serial killers and shit. This is me acknowledging that the abuse Bucky went through was also put on Winter and that the mind simply had to cope in some way, Bucky through canon states that he knows Winter is still in him, that he can feel / hear him in his head and Winter recoils from Bucky entirely. They act as two people, for obvious reasons.

DISCLAIMER 3: I wont be having either of them use terminology nor will they be diagnosed, Bucky doesn’t want a therapist and in order to diagnose it they’d have to study winter which just isn’t a safe thing within Marvel universe. I’m letting y’all know this purely so you can see where my mentality lies and why I’m writing them as I do.

Which brings me to further points - Winter as a person and not just an asset. Despite what Hydra trained Winter for and despite the abuse forcing him to obey we see in the comics and slightly in MCU that Winter isn’t thoughtless or heartless. (As much as I hate the ship) It’s shown most in the comics in regards to Natasha. It wasn’t BUCKY who was with her, it wasn’t Bucky in that room, it wasn’t Bucky who fell for her. It was Winter and it’s Winter who she betrayed which is why Bucky’s dumbass was willing to hop around and see what happened whilst Winter went boi stop that.

Winter is a case of a personality regressing to what its abusers demands. Hydra demands him to be violent, Hydra demands him to be cruel so he is but Winter also makes personal choices. He chooses to pull Steve out of the river in search for whoever Bucky is and he chooses to Run rather than keep fighting Steve when Bucky starts fronting.

I’m not dismissing everything Winters done, before anyone starts getting on my ass about it, I’m simply pointing out the cold hard fact that whilst Bucky was abused, Winter wasn’t much better off.

HOWEVER due to the nature of Hydra’s reward and punishment system Winter’s morality scale is fucked and he has an idealisation of whoever is his handler. They’re his best bet at safety, they’re his best bet at surviving. Winter very much see’s a handler as his protection, as long as he behaves and pleases them they keep him safe.

So what about Bucky and Winter? Well, Bucky fucking hates Winter and Winter fucking hates Bucky. That’s probably not going to change, at all. Bucky for obvious reasons blames Winter for everything and is terrified of him and Winter is… angry. He’s pissed that he wouldn’t exist if not for Bucky but he’s also pissed that no matter what it’s Bucky people see. He thinks of Bucky as a weakness, an error in his system that he’d get rid of in a heartbeat. ( This isn’t usual DID mentality, this mentality only comes about in late term DID development e.g. when adults develop it because it’s rarely done. It typically occurs in children who haven’t got developed personalities anyway. )

Aaand we come to a big question. Can Shuri actually get rid of Winter? Hard no. She can’t. What Shuri did do was undo the conditioning and the trigger words that would force Bucky down but it doesn’t stop winter fronting if needed and his reactions can’t be predicted. I really hate to tell MCU this but trauma can’t be undone with a fancy machine and MCU can absolutely choke for trying to tell me that. What a goddamn quick fix dismissive mentality to character growth fight me infinity war -

anyway lmao

Bucky was given rest, she did what she could the rest should’ve been done with therapy but Bucky ran off before that could’ve continued.

So where am I at?? Winter & Bucky aren’t becoming just Bucky, Hydra are pieces of shit who should burn, they both need a hug though winter would probably stab you a little bit, mental health isn’t a gloss over for shipping marvel I will @ you on that and I think that’s everything!

I might come back and update this as and when I remember things! IF you’ve got any questions feel free to ask I hope I explained it right and heed those disclaimers thank you!

[notcompliant]

Winter and Bucky

This headcanon is a long ass time coming but it’s going to be my go-to post in explaining the dynamic I have for The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. As a forewarning this post covers major abuse, mental health talk, suicidal ideals, deliberate triggers, emotional manipulation ect ect ect - if you’re having a bad day please skip ahead.

So after combing for too long through the Winter Soldier comics and re-watching the movies I started to notice a re-occuring theme in Winter and Bucky that had my attention and it mostly delves down to the terminology Bucky uses as well as Winters reactions to outside stimuli. 

We all know what happened to Bucky, Hydra caught him, experimented on him with tests of the super soldier serum and began first trials of a new mind control and neurological adaptive technique. Under his time with them Bucky went through a lot of intrusive testing and mind fuckery - it was abuse down to the bone, plain and simple. But it didn’t just come in strapping him down and pumping him full of painful concoctions. 

Hydra wanted to wipe all loyalty and personalisation of Bucky from his head and make him an asset that was entirely loyal to Hydra, but they didn’t want to loose his skills or experience in the field. Keeping in mind that Bucky was a lieutenant at that point and a hell of a renowned sniper in his own right it would be a waste to rid of talents by setting his mind completely, they may as well have just raised children as they did with the red room for that. 

No. They wanted to keep the skillset and tacticians mind but change his loyalties and obedience and in doing that they took away everything that made him Bucky. They rewrote his personality, they used reward techniques so that he would associate disobedience with pain and loyalty with reward. Hydra took away everything that influenced Bucky’s morality (his family, steve, his background) and finally his name so he wouldn’t be able to look into that should he actually wiggle out of their grasp. 

They were left with an empty husk of ability but not mind so they gave him a name, a handler to become emotionally dependant on and they taught him their own version of morality. Winter’s a weapon, no doubt, but he’s still a person. He has to be. A weapon can’t think in the field, it can’t react, it can’t make calculated choices and a weapon can be loyal to anyone that handles it. 

Winter is loyal only to his Handler. A way to ensure loyalty isn’t split and keep the amount of hands holding the leash to a minimum. A handler was enforced, stayed and given control of him. The Handler and the Handlers superior were the only ones who knew the trigger words for him, anyone not given control was beneath winter and the one holding him.

Every time Hydra wiped his mind they didn’t remove Winters training, they didn’t remove WINTER they just wiped BUCKY. The resets ensured Winter was the fronting personality, otherwise it’d be a waste of time. With the amount we know Bucky kept breaking out if they had to restart from scratch every single time and re-train winter it wouldn’t be worth the trouble. 

This specific strain of abuse, forcing someone to take an act that isn’t them, punishment for acting out of character - that strain of abuse caused Winter to have his own mindset entirely and a case of Dissociative Personality Disorder is honestly extremely likely.

Obviously it’s not canonly confirmed but - disclaimer - as someone with DID the way that Bucky speaks of memory lapses, of whispers, of voices and actions he doesn’t remember and the way Winter so violently responds to being called Bucky, the visible dissociation when Bucky starts coming forward? It all fits the box. 

Disclaimer part 2: Don’t take this as me feeding a stereotype I’m very much not. Not everyone with DID is evil, DID isn’t a violent horrible thing and it isn’t the string of serial killers and shit. This is me acknowledging that the abuse Bucky went through was also put on Winter and that the mind simply had to cope in some way, Bucky through canon states that he knows Winter is still in him, that he can feel / hear him in his head and Winter recoils from Bucky entirely. They act as two people, for obvious reasons. 

Disclaimer 3: I wont be having either of them use terminology nor will they be diagnosed, Bucky doesn’t want a therapist and in order to diagnose it they’d have to study winter which just isn’t a safe thing within Marvel universe. I’m letting y’all know this purely so you can see where my mentality lies and why I’m writing them as I do. 

Which brings me to further points - Winter as a person and not just an asset. Despite what Hydra trained Winter for and despite the abuse forcing him to obey we see in the comics and slightly in MCU that Winter isn’t thoughtless or heartless. (As much as I hate the ship) It’s shown most in the comics in regards to Natasha. It wasn’t BUCKY who was with her, it wasn’t Bucky in that room, it wasn’t Bucky who fell for her. It was Winter and it’s Winter who she betrayed which is why Bucky’s dumbass was willing to hop around and see what happened whilst Winter went boi stop that. 

Winter is a case of a personality regressing to what its abusers demands. Hydra demands him to be violent, Hydra demands him to be cruel so he is but Winter also makes personal choices. He chooses to pull Steve out of the river in search for whoever Bucky is and he chooses to Run rather than keep fighting Steve when Bucky starts fronting.

I’m not dismissing everything Winters done, before anyone starts getting on my ass about it, I’m simply pointing out the cold hard fact that whilst Bucky was abused, Winter wasn’t much better off. 

HOWEVER due to the nature of Hydra’s reward and punishment system Winter’s morality scale is fucked and he has an idealisation of whoever is his handler. They’re his best bet at safety, they’re his best bet at surviving. Winter very much see’s a handler as his protection, as long as he behaves and pleases them they keep him safe. 

So what about Bucky and Winter? Well, Bucky fucking hates Winter and Winter fucking hates Bucky. That’s probably not going to change, at all. Bucky for obvious reasons blames Winter for everything and is terrified of him and Winter is... angry. He’s pissed that he wouldn’t exist if not for Bucky but he’s also pissed that no matter what it’s Bucky people see. He thinks of Bucky as a weakness, an error in his system that he’d get rid of in a heartbeat. ( This isn’t usual DID mentality, this mentality only comes about in late term DID development e.g. when adults develop it because it’s rarely done. It typically occurs in children who haven’t got developed personalities anyway. ) 

Aaand we come to a big question. Can Shuri actually get rid of Winter? Hard no. She can’t. What Shuri did do was undo the conditioning and the trigger words that would force Bucky down but it doesn’t stop winter fronting if needed and his reactions can’t be predicted. I really hate to tell MCU this but trauma can’t be undone with a fancy machine and MCU can absolutely choke for trying to tell me that. What a goddamn quick fix dismissive mentality to character growth fight me infinity war -

Anyway lmao

Bucky was given rest, she did what she could the rest should’ve been done with therapy but Bucky ran off before that could’ve continued. 

So where am I at?? Winter & Bucky aren’t becoming just Bucky, Hydra are pieces of shit who should burn, they both need a hug though winter would probably stab you a little bit, mental health isn’t a gloss over for shipping marvel I will @ you on that and I think that’s everything!

I might come back and update this as and when I remember things! IF you’ve got any questions feel free to ask I hope I explained it right and heed those disclaimers thank you!

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 4x03

Had a busy Halloween week (my first ever!) so I’m extra late today. Also changed my format slightly bc what is consistency?

Reade-- What is there to say, other than he looks super cute covered in paint? It’s kinda weird that the usual ‘main team’ has barely been seen this whole ep-- and even then, mostly only through brief video calls or over the comms. And Reade wasn’t even heard from at all during the actual bomb disarming. Honestly though…. I’m kinda down with that. As much as I love the others, we all know Rich and Patterson are my Dream Team lol

Zapata-- yep there’s Zapata, jogging slowly away from her problems as usual lol. Seriously though what is she doing being apprenticed to a literal evil witch EXPLAIN GERO. Ugh I feel so bad for her but a little bit ‘serves you right’ at the same time. Though lbr I just want her to come homeeeee

Weller-- I feel like this dude has been on the edge of tears for like a year. Poor guy. But omg does he make a cuuuute Jackson Pollock lol. I love him being all serious and sarcastic towards Madeline while literally covered in paint and feathers. I feel like the real mystery of this ep is HOW DOES IT MAKE HIM HOTTER. Someone please explain. Also oooh he cannot be happy about being stuck in the station while ‘Jane’ is zooming away on a doomed train. ALSO SPEAKING OF WHICH, dude the bomb is on one of the lines past the apartment I lived in back in September. I got off at that station multiple times aaaahhhhhh this is so cool. Ugh now he’s back at the apartment crying over Jane again ahah. Seems like all the poor dude does these days is hug her and cry. But wait, maybe not! Ooooh he followed her and he has got his suspicion on. THERE’S the badass agent we’ve been missing!

Remi-- I feel like she actually feels a tiny bit bad that she made Weller cry?? Lol girl’s supposed to be killing him and she has a hard time even seeing him cry. Lbr she’s gonna fall for him despite herself, his mix of badass agent and suburban dad is apparently just irresistible to any iteration of her being lol. Tbh I loved the sequence of her disarming the bomb over the comms-- in most eps we would be with her and Weller and Reade out in the field and only hearing the home team over the comms, I loved seeing this turnabout. Also ugh she nearly lashes out at Weller when he lifts her hand bc she’s such an abused little puppy that she doesn’t know anything but coldness or punishment and I think she was startled and secretly pleased to be greeted with cheers and hailed as a hero. Ugh Remi honey you’re gonna grow to love it here. “... right under our noses, putting on a friendly face, pretending to be the hero” I guess she’s seeing some similarities between herself and Madeline lol. And then oooh on the couch, Roman’s like the devil on the shoulder trying to pull her back into the deep shadows of the dark side and then Weller appears and shines all his love and support all over her and Roman disappears for a moment. I see what you’re doing here Gero…. Also lol Remi must be surprised at how easily she can make Weller cry haha

Patterson-- okay firstly, how dare some guy make out with my baby and not know her name. Also, I just have mixed feelings about the making out in general but I am all about supporting my precious queen. THen I was like ‘pfft she won’t say her name’ and then SHE SAID HER NAME AND I SCREAMED and then it hit me that she was almost definitely undercover and I was like ‘oh a fake name of course, shit Gero you got me well done’ and then turns out it wasn’t an op but a whole different kind of ‘undercovers’ hahahahaha. Well good on you girl I support you and all your choices. BUT WAS IT A FAKE NAME OR NO??? Omg okay yes it was, thanks for the heart attack Gero. Is anyone else having early Grey’s Anatomy flashbacks rn lol or is that just me haha. Also flustered Patterson is the most adorable Patterson, fight me on it.Ugh poor girl cannot seem to catch a break this ep and you KNOW Rich is deliberately playing with her lol. But also I mean c’mon writers, Patterson is a professional agent, I can see her being flustered to start but let’s not act like she wouldn’t suck it up and focus on her job pretty quick. Also omg *dead serious voice* “I can already tell you, that I’m gonna scoff” is one of the best lines of the episode and probably the entire show lol. “Okay get to the part where you solved it. Oh my god I just sounded like Weller” hahaha well  he is your big bro, so makes sense you’d pick up a few traits lol. Great throwback to the ‘where math is done’ line too writers, nice work. Also wow the way she just went toe-to-toe with Weitz… why do I ship it a tiny bit lol?? And I also kinda ship her with Lincoln. Get it, girl!

Rich-- how was him being like ‘Hey guys here’s the terrorist’s address okay be careful bye’ one of the funniest things he’s ever done??? I stg whoever writes Rich needs to be my new best friend. Though tbh he does actually seem almost a touch subdued in this first scene, without that usual devilish gleam in his eyes… maybe he’s trying to show he can be both useful AND mature so they don’t actually decide to replace him with Boston haha. “I didn’t say magic, I’m not seven, I said magical cures’ hahahaha my baby. And he’s so excited to brief the recruits ugh. And then omg “sounds like the greatest takedown in FBI history I’m so sorry I missed it” aren’t we all, buddy lol. Also ugh him and his little recruit ducklings LET ME DIE. “There’s a bomber! Who bombs!” literally if someone who had Rich’s sense of humour and talked like he talks were to appear in my life I would marry them on the spot. “He’s probably an angry man with a victim complex, that’s a dangerous combination” OKAY EVERYONE LET’S FACE IT THE BOMBER GUYS CAN GO HOME BECAUSE RICH JUST DROPPED THE BIGGEST BOMB OF THE EPISODE RIGHT THERE. “Oh yeah, would an unprofessional do something like this??” The answer is yes and also marry me. And ugh he says his main reason for going after the book of secrets is because Jane is dying ughhhhh he is too good for this worldddd. Also wtf was that weird cackle when describing Roman that was hilarious. “It’s been very evident all day. Also I am like a sex-narc and you are terrible at lying” EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MAN AND THIS FRIENDSHIP IS THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD. “It’s very unprofessional, I think that’s what thrills me the most actually” hahahahaha. “This is my smug face, I save it for special occasions” hahahaaha c’mon no he does not, that’s just his normal face but THIS is why I felt he seemed more serious than usual, it was so his face could be extra smug later hahahaha. And the victory dance??? “You and me, Ride or Die”?? Let’s be real I am SO ride or die for these two there is literally nothing more important than this friendship aaaaaaaahhhhhh

Weitz-- I love this sleazy bastard and his weird love/hate feelings towards Zapata and his semi-corrupt work ethic lol. Also omg yasss he told them all about Zapata leaking info to Carter! I wondered if that would ever come out. And omg he’s Patterson’s hookup’s uncle THIS EP IS RIDICULOUS AND I LOVE IT. Also oh no “What am I saying, special treatment’s fine” was hilarious, like uh oh no way am I starting to love Weitz??? I am having feelings about a Patterson/Rich/Weitz dream team haha. “Might be our only shot at [Madeline], so it is unfortunate that you look like that” how does this show do so many characters with their own distinctive styles of sass I love it so much. Also, show of hands, who thinks this guy is on some kind of uppers because honestly at this stage I’m convinced haha. He’s especially nuts when he comes in to give Patterson the special computer-- which I’m sure that a) she already would have had one of, and b) someone in his postion would have just had someone deliver for him. Although it does seem like he makes any excuse to come hang out and be bizarre. He’s the boss I wish I had lol. Especially if I happened to be related to him bc wow there is some unabashed nepotism happening right here haha. Oh dear he seems to be coming down off his high right now and is getting grumpy. Better call his assistant to bring his next hit lol. Also “CAN YOU JUST CHECK HIS WORK PLEASE” clearly withdrawing-Weitz has no time for workplace flirting hahahaha. And ugh then Patterson stands up to him and he listens to her and holy shit that was a big amount of trust, if they were wrong the whole city is gonna turn on him for letting so many more people die than was necessary. Looks like he doesn’t just always do what protects his own ass??

Afreen-- you are a queen and I love you

[theliterateape]

The Regret Soup of Temper Lost and Reason Found

by Don Hall

Despite the ongoing parade of grown people acting like angry children in 2021 America, I'd like to hope that with age comes some modicum of temperance.

As I sit in the desert sun smoking Captain Black Cherry pipe tobacco and sipping on a Modelo, I drift into that perilous territory of regretful nostalgia. I remember those many times when, in an effort to exert control of a situation, I lost my ever-loving shit and resembled nothing less than a random Wal Mart customer throwing a tantrum at an insult or request to follow the rules in place.

It's a bit embarrassing to think of the occasions in my youth (and, in some cases, well beyond what any normal standard of youth could entail) when I lost control, screaming and thumping and doing my damnedest to intimidate someone enough to simply have them acquiesce to my demands. Tantrum-throwing is an art-form and I was a master at it.

The times they be a changing. 

I'm no longer angry. I mean, pretty much at all. Either I wised up, find myself lacking the energy to become outraged, or am truly embracing my More Spock, Less Kirk mantra. Whichever the case the rage has all but subsided completely. That's good for me because so many others are in full-on battle mode at the drop of a hat and these days that can equal serious injury or death.

About 30 murders nationwide have been attributed to incidents that started with road rage. More than 12,500 injuries to driver violence, out of 10,000 car accidents since 2007. Of the deaths related to road rage, most have been considered deliberate murders.

SOURCE

Anger, frustration, and other mental stress can trigger abnormal heart rhythms that may lead to sudden death, new research shows. In the first study of its kind, a group of researchers has demonstrated that mental stress alone can provoke these dangerous heart rhythms.

SOURCE

Although anger can be channelled constructively, it seems clear that aggressive behaviour can compound. Aggressive actions most often increase the likelihood of further aggression, and enacted aggression does not reduce aggressive impulses.

Violence and aggression beyond a mild degree almost always involve additional factors. A tendency towards impulsivity and keeping company with delinquent peers are risk factors.

SOURCE

When I see a woman screaming at a convenience store employee because he refuses to sell her a case of Miller Lite until she puts on a mask, I start to judge. And then I remember that time when members of an improv group I was in decided to complain about the lack of audience to a point that I threw a bar stool across the room.

When I watch a video of a man so angry that the McDonald's he goes to consistently puts onions on his "made-to-order" hamburger that he starts pulling cash registers off the counter and smashing them, I think What a fucking asshole. Then I recall that one time when I jumped on top of the hood of a Subaru because he was banging into the back of my car in his own moment of pique due to my shitty parking.

When I hear about Frederick Joseph routinely provoking white people with his camera and charges of racism (including a woman putting her feet up on a plane and a drunk woman telling him to 'stay in his hood') I think that the only difference between him and the people he films is who is doing the filming. The idea that Joseph has never lost his temper in public would indicate a level of maturity that his ongoing obsession with garnering social status by instigating incidents does not support.

"Say it one more time and I'll kick your ass!"

The nerds were a little drunk on wine coolers and false bravado so I knew there would be no such ass-kicking in the near future. Having been a few bar fights in my day, I knew the louder the bark, the less vicious the bite.

It was an odd thing to get so ginned up about.

I had been invited to a party by a theater friend. I wanted to get out, thought I might meet a girl, and the prospect of free booze was always a winning strategy for me in those days.

The party was full-on nerd. There was a party-wide game of Vampire going on. Cosplay Nosferatu everywhere, pretending be the sexy creatures of the night in clothing that was perhaps a bit too tight and made many of the dudes in tow look like overstuffed sausages with capes and slicked back hair.

The thing I said that got me in trouble came when I encountered three incels arguing the merits of Star Wars. I love Star Wars but I'm not speaking in Wookie any time soon. At one point in the heated discussion over the feasibility of the Millennium Falcon to go into hyper-drive with a broken something one of the nerds looks at me. "You joining in or just lurking?"

"Oh. Just listening. When it comes to Star Wars, I think I was Lucas's audience of choice. I was twelve years old when it hit the theaters and the whole franchise is just a space opera written for twelve year olds."

It was as if I had shat right there in their punch bowl.

There was no parking lot melee. The thing that perplexes me is how angry the subject matter spun everyone up. Sure, it's a movie that has crossed cultural boundaries and inspired billions to "use the Force," a tale of heroism at a time when we desperately need heroes, a milestone. But it's just a movie, right?

You'll discover that losing your temper is just that—a loss.

We've been this angry as a nation before. We've been this divided. The margins of society have been at war this aggressively many times. 1984. 1968. 1933. This partisan divide we all bemoan as if the failure of democracy is at hand is overstated and old hat. What's different is the speed and frequency at which we communicate this sense of cultural outrage. What's new is a series of social media algorithms designed to push the outrage to the front over anything else.

These algorithms intentionally exaggerate the reasons for the anger. The media, in a complete paralysis on how to deal with Twitter, reports news that 10,000 retweeted some hyperbole about police racism or vaccine authoritarianism as if 10,000 was a serious number. So we spend more of our time dwelling on our frustration and our anger sits ready, at a moment's notice, to explode.

Like a section of society bracing for a fight all the time, spurred on by our smartphones, we lose our shit more often without a single thought to what the expression of that anger will actually accomplish. All practicality is tossed out the window in order to exact revenge upon the microaggression or the guy who cut you off in traffic.

When my mother—a kind and loving soul, the type of person who goes out of her way to show generosity to anyone in need—expresses that she hates Donald Trump or any supporter of him, I am alarmed. Hatehas never been in her vocabulary but she says it without a thought these days. When ordinary people routinely use social media to wish rape, mayhem, and death on strangers they encounter online with the same casual nature one might merely flip someone off, we're in trouble.

1

Limit Your Presence on Every Social Media Platform

Sure, I was a belligerent manchild in my earlier days without the internet but I can also say without contradiction that worst threat I ever threw out in those spewing babyman incidents was an ass-whopping. No guns. No threats of lethal violence. No wishes of rape. No desire to get someone fired.

Add the secret sauce of hour by hour contact with assholes is not the desirable behavior. We already know that Instagram fucks up young girls, that TikTok is more addictive than sugar, that Faceborg is more like a hostile foreign nation than a communication platform.

It's unreasonable to get you to eliminate these outlets because they’re ingrained at this point but you can moderate your presence.

2

Stop Doomscrolling

We already know how fucking skewed and biased almost all media is today so give them less of your attention. Less swimming in the putrid pond of how awful the world is and more time focusing on what's right in front of you.

3

Examine the Pragmatics of Losing Your Temper

You'll discover that losing your temper is just that—a loss. And you will lose far more than your temper in the equation. Practice patience rather than a need for vengeance. Be less judgmental and more understanding.

If that all sounds a bit too kumbaya, try this—grow the fuck up. As a former raging shitass, a recovering rage-aholic, I had to grow up and become more rational and less emotional. If a hardcore RageBaby like myself can grow up, so can you and you’ll regret less in life if you start now.

Yes. I'm saying to suppress some of your emotions. At least in the Wal Mart or a nerd party.

[cc-hatredisland]

AV Room.  {.Kasahara: Talk.}

I approached Kasahara the way I’d approach one of the teachers at my school. Ready to either punch it outta here or slam my hands over my ears at a moment’s notice, depending on the mood. I barely make it a step towards her before she throws up her hand in a stopping gesture.

“Not another step.“

Well that hits a nerve.

“Or you’ll what?“

“This is not a threat. I am studying something. Do not move.”

I take a very deliberate step forward and she sighs, seemingly having given up on what she’s doing.

“Is that fun? Playing rebel.“

“Can’t tell you the high I get pissing people like you off.“

“For some pointless controversy you have put a pause to my advancement here. I hope you are proud.“

The way she talked made it feel really important and I was beginning to feel like an idiot for acting out. She pushes her glasses up with two fingers and glares at me.

“I imagine an imbecile like you can only learn through seeing. If you are ready to be civilized, I will show you. Come.“

I’d already been an ass and mouthed off so I just let that insult slip. I wasn’t gonna apologize, though. Guess this was the compromise I was making. I walked over to where she stood and saw... a camera.

“Cameras. Usually I see those.“

I really wondered why I hadn’t. With the amount of petty crap I usually get up to in public camera-spotting’s one of the first things I do.

She then points to some monitors near Shiratori and... I jump, honestly, cause what I see is myself. Kasahara nods at my reaction. So wait, even this whole room is on camera? Must be, cause I see her, Chiffon and Shiratori there, too.

“Whoa! The hell?”

“They blend in quite well. State of the art. The monitors here show they were here before as well. We will have to keep an eye on them in the future. We did not notice them because we accepted them as always being here. It seems strange now but perhaps we did not always perceive it as unusual. Unconsciously, we accept that as ‘normal’ despite the irregularity. Furthermore, they are recording, even now. To have all this recorded seems... specific. This might be crucial.“

I try to get my breathing right again. The idea that I’m being watched by someone somewhere else just... gives me the creeps.

“Keep an eye out, huh... hopefully you don’t mean that in a ‘cover your bases for murder’ kinda way.”

“And if I do?”

“... We’d have problems, I’d say.”

Kasahara pauses and lets the uncomfortable topic sink into my skin before she opts to even look at me.

“I have determined murder is not ideal. Committing the perfect crime takes a great deal of preparation, foresight, timing and luck. Not to mention any physical endurance and strength you might need to possess. The risk-reward is not nearly great enough for me to attempt it. At least, not right now.”

“But the idea’s not completely off the table, huh. That honesty of yours kinda cracks me up.”

“Lying about it would be pointless. Someone who intends to kill would insist they would never. Someone who confesses their intent will be seen as a threat. The paths converge. It is an ultimately useless endeavor.“

“... Hey, I know you’re gonna find it pointless but... let me hit you with a question. About Anzai and them... do you care at all?”

“Should I?”

I honestly wasn’t sure how to answer.

“You are not crying. Why?“

“...Huh?”

“Someone is dead. You should be upset. Yes?”

“... The hell d’you mean ‘someone’s dead’?”

“Statistically speaking, every minute, someone, somewhere is hurt. Every hour, someone dies. Using this logic, you must be upset every minute of every day. Yes?”

“No point in shedding tears over strangers.“

“Like that, we have an accord. I have no interest in strangers nor the emotional baggage they carry. They made their choices. It is unfortunate we lost some good skills but if they succumbed to such weaknesses perhaps it was for the best.”

Her cold logic doesn’t sit right with me but the frustrating thing is I don’t even know where to start. I can’t really refute it. I mean, I could, but I’d just be yelling about how mean that is and that... yeah, to my ears that honestly sounds dumb. Even if I couldn’t articulate it, I didn’t agree with it.

“I get it’s your thing, but if you think ‘bout stuff so economically you’re gonna get your ass kicked by someone. You don’t have to be murdered for someone to have a bad day and snap.“

“Are you referring to yourself?”

“Maybe. Or y’know, the sailor double my height.”

She makes a hm sound at that.

“Murder makes for good footage. It is what our captor wants; if you or her try something, you will only be giving them what they want. I had previously doubted the verisimilitude of this place and situation. However this room confirms the reality. We are being watched. Not only here, I imagine, but elsewhere. This is not the master room.“

I pretended to know that word. There was no way I was gonna ask about versimili-whatever when I knew she’d just give me a hard time.

“Cause... there are cameras here. Right? Why would there be cameras if this is where you monitor?”

She seems surprised by my reasoning but nods.

“Yes. Good eye. It is a bold move to make someone feel as though they have the power to stop something. Enough power to give them hope and yet... not enough to do anything. Because the fall from grace that comes with failure is even more devastating. A failure to control leads to chaos; chaos is moorish to viewers. Furthermore, this sense of paranoia, from wondering who can see what and from where, is sure to put people on edge. I imagine that is what Patchnuki wants.“

“Sure sounds like his MO. And yet you’re calm.“

“People to fail to understand this but we are protected right now. So there is no need to react. It is a shark cage. Should you keep to yourself and mind the shark, you will not get bitten. People usually invite the troubles they get. My door is shut. I do not intend to get involved.“

“So you’re... what, you’re happy like this? Living here for the rest of your life knowing someone could wring your neck anytime they wanted. Hoping that if you bore whoever’s doing this enough they’ll just... what, let you go?”

The way Kasahara stares at me... it’s like she’s glaring, but not out of anger. I honestly feel like that’s just her face at this point.

“Do I appear satisfied to you?“

“I simply believe I can outsmart whoever is behind this. They have picked style over substance; this whole ornate set-up will have holes. And I will find them. For that purpose, I will cooperate when I have to. And then I will leave.“

“Leave on your own too I’ll bet, huh. Doesn’t it bug you? I mean, there’s evidence around we probably knew each other before forgetting all this. Your friends could be dying around you.“

“Friends? I highly doubt it. Our standards are different; I do not possess nor value friendship in the common way expected. Furthermore... I do not need to hear this from you.”

“A skeptical delinquent preaching about friendship? How empty. You are expecting of others something you have no intention of giving yourself.”

“Hey, I’m not preaching, just asking questions. Those never killed anyone. And yeah, y’know, you’re right. I don’t trust anyone here. But so what? I know I’m shooting myself in the foot like that so I’m making an effort. I’m not the smartest guy here, I get that. But I know what I know and I’ll help in my own way. I wanna find out what happened here... and why we forgot. ‘Course, I wanna get outta here too, but... not knowing’ll kill me.“

Admitting to Kasahara who might’ve been the smartest person here that I was kinda lacking in the brain area may have been a dumb move. And man, I’d been so good about not clarifying on words prior to this. But y’know, at this point I felt she probably knew anyway. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t true.

“... I see. Curiously, I share the sentiment. Leaving here without answers would be unpleasant. Yet I will, if an opportunity provides itself. Naturally self-preservation is more important than fulfillment. This is not a horror movie; I do not intend to stick around to please my curiosity. Not without suitable back-up and equipment. However... if I find clues, I will not deny them. Having holes in my memory is... let us say not ideal. So... in that vein, if I believe you can help me, I will say so. I have a theory I am currently working on.“

“A theory, huh... and I’m guessing you’re not in a sharing mood.”

“Do not see the point in sharing unconfirmed maybes. If someone acts out of turn, my fault for stirring the pot. No use in that, particularly if it ends up being untrue. But I am looking into it. This room might be key. Might provide more than the common man realizes.“

‘The common man’, huh... I barely know what this stuff is so I guess I definitely fit into that category. Well, whatever, if she’s just gonna shit on my intelligence all day, I’ll just ignore it. It seems like as weird as it is, we have some kinda accord. Information. If we can help each other, we will. And yeah, maybe that’s enough.

I walk away and realize... yeah, acutally that conversation was pretty quiet. Where WAS Chiffon? She seemed like she was just hiding behind some desk.

“Did she scare you off?“

“No! Dummy! I don’t get scared. But those snooty intellectual types are no fun. They run rings around you and make you feel stupid... which I’m not, of course.”

“Yeah, of course.”

I could see her point; Kasahara deeefinitely made me feel dumb. I mean, I kinda went back and forth on how smart I was - when I was with Chiffon, I felt like the smartest guy in the world, but that didn’t prove much. I guess that kinda thing just changes based on mood and stuff, too.

Either way, even if I wanted to get more out of Kasahara I felt it wasn’t gonna happen. Best to cut my losses and move on. It’s not like it was a complete failure.

[Previous]

[kindredconfectionery]

Part 1 of 2 - Set Tuesday 20 March 2018 (The Vernal Equinox)

It only took 84 years, but I’m finally posting John’s current plot only 13 days after the events here took place. The plot itself is still in progress, but have day 1. (Work kicked my ass for basically 10 of those days.)

There comes a time when you can’t prepare anymore. You’ve trained. And trained. And trained some more to the point your trainers had to take you by the shoulders, look deep into your eyes, and tell you to stop. You’ve not only picked out the perfect outfit, but you actually made it yourself, with just a little help from your friends. Had some of this been a stalling tactic? Perhaps, but some of it was legitimate concern of being ill-prepared. When there’s so much riding on a single shot, it’s hard not to want to be as thorough as possible. But as possible had come, and maybe even gone again. Now it’s just fear holding him back, and he can’t justify waiting any longer.

Goofing off is fun, and he’d rather simply act like everything is perfectly normal and not potentially about to go to hell in a handbasket. John is well aware this plan is idiotic and ill-advised, prone to disaster, with dozens of ways it can fail. Nevertheless, it’s the one he’s going with. Their home is currently untraceable, and if he doesn’t bring anyone with him, they can’t be harmed on his behalf. That’s his primary concern, however soft it may seem to some of them. There’s also the concern at least one might be prone to recklessness for his own completely understandable reasons, and John would rather not risk that occurring when walking into the heart of enemy territory.

He’s said good-bye to everyone, including Moro, even though the baby was fast asleep and Cecilia was giving him a subtle stink eye he not awaken him. He was glad of the presence of something to take her mind off the loss of her husband, even if it was John’s own unasked for child. However mismatched they’d seemed, there were no two people more devoted to one another than Kevin and Cecilia, and John could see it wearing on her each day he wasn’t there, would never be there again. All because he happened to answer the door at the wrong time at John’s behest.

Knowing that there was no way he could have known any of this made it no easier to bear the guilt of everyone’s losses. Once they were safe, a couple of members had deserted, and he’d hardly been about to stop them. They had every right to abandon a leader who couldn’t keep them safe. John had wished them well and given them resources to sustain themselves until they could be properly independent.

If he was lucky, what he was about to do would stop the hemorrhaging of people. If he was unlucky, it probably wouldn’t matter what happened. They would be doomed or they would continue to flee, but he feared the former to be more likely.

Admonishing Streak to take good care of his pineapple for him, which she promises she will, he starts punching in the coordinates on his watch. He’s surprised by a sudden tug on his collar and lips pressed hard and fast to his. He blinks at the culprit, who grins and fingerspells out ‘For luck,’ in their mutual rapid fire style. “

He grins back, agreeing, “For luck.”

Taking a deep breath, he engages the transport mechanism and appears in an area that seems to be both deserted and a place that screams for anyone happening by to go away and not look any closer. There’s absolutely nothing to see there. It would be convincing too, if not for the thrumming of magic in the air.

The place was lousy with it, the high concentrations of it causing the Power contained within John’s body to sing in return. He stands there, arms raising until they’re stretched out from his sides, hands at hip level just letting it wash over him. Damn, but if this didn’t feel magnificent. He couldn’t absorb anything this way, but he wished he could. He’d never be hungry again.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t just stand there all night like someone using up all the hot water standing under the showerhead. He had a mission, and he needed to get started.

John still had very little in the way of finesse with unfamiliar magic, so he simply focuses himself, punching a blast through the illusion and diversion shield. That would have been the opposite of a good idea if he had been looking to maintain any hope of stealth. It wasn’t his plan to be stealthy, however. He wanted them to know he was here. What better way than to stroll right through their front door.

Unfortunately, John’s aim couldn’t be quite that lucky. He strides across the yard of the moderately sized home as if he owns the place and knows exactly where he’s headed. In some ways, he does. His enhanced senses tell him he has set off every alarm bell the witches possess when he damaged their handiwork.

Figures appear as blurs, stopping in front of him in attack mode. He hold his hands up in surrender. “You guys really ought to mark your doors better. It’s such a pain having to walk around the side because it was camouflaged,” he quips, offering them a cheerful smile.

Unfortunately, the cheer is all one-sided. The guards snarl threateningly at him. “Take me to your leader?” John prompts, keeping up the friendly visit facade for the moment. “Please?”

Whether they simply don’t buy the act or the invasion is too surprising, no one finds his joke very amusing. One of them finally seems to relax enough to stand up neutrally, though the other remains ready to strike should John say something he didn’t like. “How did you find us?”

John smiles, replying enigmatically. “Sore wa himitsu desu.”

“Stop trying to be cute. How did you get in?” he barks in return.

“I don’t have to try. I’m naturally adorable.” He shrugs at the growl from the more aggressive of the pair. Everyone’s a critic. “I would think how I got in was fairly obvious. I punched a hole in your shell and hopped through it. I’d suggest patching it up as soon as possible. You never know what might come wandering in.”

“They’re working on it. What is it you want here?” Every word out of this guy’s mouth sounds like he’s supremely put out by having to speak it.

“I already told you. I’m here to see Violet,” he explains patiently.

“Violet? There’s no Violet here. Try again, and make it good this time, because this is the last try you’re getting before I put you back through the hole piece by piece.”

“I really wouldn’t advise that.” John lifts a hand, casually scratching his head in a way that moves his hair to reveal his Mark. He puts the hand back in the surrender pose when the wide eyes of the welcoming wagon make it clear they have both seen and understood what it means. “Silly me. It’s been so long. Of course she’d be going by something else. Sorry. My bad. But it really is important I speak with her, so if you could see fit to take me to your leader, I would be ever so grateful.”

The two vampires look at each other, neither sure what to do. They didn’t have a plan for this. No one could have expected John to come waltzing in to their compound alone and looking to chat with their leader.

John sighs in exasperation, rolling his eyes. Clearly he got the Mensa branch of the group. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. We all know it. You have my word I am not here to attack anyone tonight unless I absolutely have to. Now I’m going to start walking again, and you’re welcome to join me or stand around with your jaws flapping in the breeze.” As soon as he’s finished speaking, he makes good on his word, continuing around the pair on his way to where the front of the building is likely to be.

It takes them a moment to process what just happened before they’re scurrying to catch up. One of them serves as an escort, the other goes on ahead to advise the clan as to what’s happening.

The door is still open when the pair make it to the porch to enter it, the dim interior dotted with the curious glittering eyes of what would appear to be most of the clan peering out to see John as they enter. He’s wearing a big, cheesy grin, inclining his head or a hand in a friendly wave. “Surprise!”

The ones who aren’t insanely curious as they’ve never seen him before don’t seem thrilled to see John there, but he ignores the animosity. What else would someone deliberately marching themselves into enemy territory expect but to be met with suspicion and loathing?

They lead him to a room no better or worse than any other in the place, which surprises him not at all. It’s Violet’s style to show her power through her actions, not where she happens to live. This place is likely a utilitarian choice anyhow and not meant for comfort or luxury.

She waves a hand dismissively at his escort. “Leave us.”

“M’Lady?” Clearly this was unexpected and it’s not met with pleasure.

“I said leave us. He’s not going to attack if he went to all the trouble of letting you walk him in here.” A bow and an apology later, John’s escort leaves, shutting the door behind him. She shakes her head, muttering about problematic help before turning her attention to her visitor, who has remained patiently waiting in a pose resembling parade rest.

“Donovan.”

“Violet.”

Neither of them go by those names anymore, but as she chose to lead with the name she knew him as, he returns the favor rather than correcting her to his current name he knows she knows.

“I should have expected this from you. You never do things in a way that makes efficient sense. If you could find us, why didn’t you bring your kindred and simply wipe us out?” It’s an honest and reasonable question, presented with genuine curiosity.

He smiles at her, a wistful expression tinged with sadness. “As beautiful and bloodthirsty as ever. You know violence isn’t my way if another solution can be found.”

Violet arches her eyebrow, challenging him with her expression. They wouldn’t be here now if that were entirely true, and they both know it. She continues to hold her silence, but gestures for him to have a seat.

Since he isn’t planning on immediately leaving, John accepts the offer, situating himself on a nearby chair. He tucks both legs up under him until he’s seated cross-legged on the chair. His hands clasp, draping his forearms across his thighs, the picture of a casual teenager hanging out. “My entire life is predicated on the statement ‘Everyone makes mistakes.’”

“Your mistakes bring death. Even now people die because of you.”

His lip curls at her unfortunately factual observation. “Yes. I might have noticed. I might also have noticed I’m sitting across from one.”

Violet sneers back at him. “I am only what you made me to be. As was your brother.”

The only indication she got to him with the comment about Jake is a small eye twitch. “My brother is not germane to this conversation, but I am sorry for the pain I caused you. I was wrong, and I can never make it right. The deaths of my family at the hands of your people don’t change that.”

“Isn’t he?” Her musical laugh is more terrifying than any threat Violet could level against him. Inside, John quails at it, even as his mask is unshaken. If she doesn’t know who she has in her dungeon, she has suspicions, which isn’t good at all. That kind of knowledge is more power than she should have. At the same time, this offers him a glimpse at her cards, so she may not have as much of an advantage over him as she would like to believe. “Maybe they can’t bring him back, but it makes you hurt, and if that’s the best I can do, then I’ll take it. And don’t think just because you found a new hidey-hole, we won’t find you.”

“I have no doubt. Your tenacity is one of the things that most attracted me to you. One of my great regrets in life is causing it to twist into this. But that’s what I do, isn’t it? I take the beautiful and sublime and turn it to rot. No amount of whitewashing can ever fill in the holes left behind.” He hadn’t meant to wax poetic, but every word he said was sincere. He had loved Violet, and he had hurt her greatly. She has every right to hate him, and John is almost glad she isn’t willing to simply forgive him and love him again the way Jake had.

Her eyes flash, a deep violet which the name he had bestowed upon her so many centuries ago was drawn from. “Don’t think you can win me over with pretty words. You ripped open my heart and left it on the ground to bleed. And now you come here, invading my protected sanctuary, to what? Distract us while the rest of your people prepare for an assault?”

“Hardly.” His lips quirk up in the faintest of smiles. “What remains of my people wouldn’t stand a chance against yours, even if they knew where we were or how to get in. I’m here to ask for a truce.”

“And why on Earth would I agree to that?” she retorts incredulously. It’s not a no, which John counts as a point in his favor.

“Because now you have me. I come to you as a trade for peace against my family. They don’t deserve what’s happening. Not a single one of them was even alive at the time, and they don’t deserve to be used as punishment because you can’t strike directly at me without destroying either yourself or whoever you send in your stead.” As vicious as Violet is, he knows she does care for those she’s taken in. It used to be her way, and he believes it still is or she would have allowed a direct strike against him personally.

She laughs again. “And what good does having you do me? You said yourself I can’t end you without consequence.”

“I know,” he concedes, “But it’s the best I can offer.”

“No. The best you can offer is killing yourself and ridding the world of the plague that is John Crocker the third aka Donovan aka Cain son of Adam, the first born of the world, bringer of death to humanity. A fitting fate for his mother’s son who brought us all down out of perfection.” John sits stone faced throughout her litany of his sins and the single, apparently necessary one of Eve’s. There’s no point in objecting to anything Violet says. She’s not wrong. “But you won’t do that, will you? Even now you’re too much of a coward to do the right thing. The thing you should have done way back at the beginning instead of running away.”

“You wouldn’t still be alive if I had done that,” he points out.

Violet shrugs, not really caring about a detail such as that. “As it should have been. You disrupted the natural order of things. By the time I realized I would have been far better off without you, it was too late. You’d charmed me into taking pleasure in watching the world change even as I never would.”

“Another of my many sins I can never atone for if given another thousand lifetimes.”

“Don’t bother.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I absolve you of the guilt for that one. If I’d really wanted to die, I could have done so with ease. If not by my own hand, then perhaps that of your little hunter.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jake isn’t the first hunter John’s ever been on friendly terms with, but he is the only current one, and he was known to this clan in times past, so he is assuming she means him.

“Don’t play coy with me. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not playing anything. I don’t have any hunters. Why would I? Their whole mission is to bring death to us. I’m not going to keep one around where he can pick people off at leisure.”

While his facade of ignorance had been good, it hadn’t been perfect, and Violet catches the slip. “I never said it was a he.”

“So? The vast majority of hunters are male. It’s a safe bet, and a generic pronoun. I could easily have said she and had as much chance of being right, but I played the odds.” Way to contradict yourself there, John.

She doesn’t seem to be buying that explanation either. “Stop lying to me. You’re not very good at it, and the only one going to suffer for it is him.” She lifts her right hand, spreading her fingers. On her pinky is the ring John had given to Jake as their rings of self-proclaimed binding to one another. “It’s quite lovely, if a strange design. What does it mean?”

His eyes flick to the ring, jaw tightening. If he hadn’t been sure he should leave the ring home before, now he was especially glad he had. “How should I know? It’s not my ring.”

“Bullshit. My people saw you wearing one just like it. Only the two of you. No one else.”

“Double bullshit.” He lifts both hands, revealing no jewelry and even pulls his shirt to show nothing on a necklace either. “How could they tell anything of the sort when they were busy slaughtering innocent people?”

She snorts. Innocent people her ass. But debating that will get them nowhere, so she leaves the subject be. “Then you left it home. Smart. But irrelevant. I know what I need to know about him. He’s important enough to you for you to mark him as yours. He has the right look too. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this...” she trails off, leaving it hanging in the air for John to draw his own conclusions.

“Get a better map. This one has obviously led you down the wrong path.” It’s a warning, one they both know means she’s right, regardless of what John is trying to say otherwise.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." It’s all he can do not to punch the smug look off Violet’s face as she quotes Shakespeare at him. The correct version of the quote, no less, and not the inverted one that became popular. Somehow that makes it worse, but he couldn’t say exactly how or why. “What do you think he would think of what you’re doing now? Abandoning your family running away like you always have when things get tough.”

“I’m not running away. I’m running toward something. Toward the threat to them. I can’t protect them from you there, so I came to the source to nip it in the bud.”

“To try to nip it in the bud. And to fail miserably. You couldn’t possibly ever have truly believed this would work? Not if you knew me as well as you claimed to. Or as my little gift should have told you.”

The mention of Streak finally breaks his mask of indifference, drawing a growl from him. “You tortured and turned a little girl. Decorated her and sent her to me like a gift. Why?”

“A reminder. You’d gotten too complacent, and I had been hoping you’d remember there were threats even your little hunter calling a truce couldn’t stop. But you didn’t listen until it was too late. What a shame.” She clucks her tongue, shaking her head.

“Why her? She means nothing.”

The look Violet gives him speaks volumes, basically saying ‘I know something you don’t know,’ but also a bit of surprise he doesn’t know it too. “Doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t,” he avers. Now he knows he’ll need to figure out who Streak is, regardless of the outcome of this visit.

“Suit yourself then.” It’s of little concern to her whether John cares as to who the gift was. “We don’t have a deal.”

John starts to say something, but closes his mouth again when she holds up a finger, telling him to wait because she has something more to say.

“We don’t have a deal, but we do have a temporary cease fire. I’m willing to admit you finding us and coming here alone to talk and offer yourself as tribute wasn’t something we expected. I promise I won’t attack your family yet, provided you remain here and they make no moves against us, while I consider the options currently at our disposal.”

This doesn’t strike John as a benevolent consideration so much as it makes no difference to promise to wait as she doesn’t know where the safe house is yet, so she can’t do anything anyway. It’s the best offer he’s likely to get at the moment, so he finally nods. “Agreed.”

Violet calls in one of her minions, instructing them to set their guest up in a room of his own. Dipping her head in deference, the girl promises the lady Alys she’ll do it right away before hurrying off to do so, singing quietly to herself. This draws a deep sigh from Violet. She should have expected no less.

John, having stood to go with the girl, smiles and chuckles softly. “Alys is a pretty name. It suits you.”

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion of my name, Donovan,” she snaps back.

Her annoyance draws the smile into a grin. “I know, which is why I gave it anyway.” Before she has a chance to object, John leans in and kisses her, soundly but with genuine affection. A part of him will always love her, regardless of what else happens between them. Drawing back he meet Violet’s eyes during her moment of surprise. “I will be getting that ring back,” he promises in a low voice full of unspoken menace.

Giving a little wave, he turns on his heel to track down the girl who seems more than a few apples short of a barrel.

[abigfatbug]

Adimyos, Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of Adimyos!  Link to Google Drive folder >>here<<, and link to the first part/prologue on tumblr >>here<< I still don’t personally like reading long stories directly on tumblr, but i’ll paste it in anyway.

Chapter 3: How To Proceed? After some deliberation, Tanos ended up selecting a modest guest room as close to his room as possible to be where Rivis would stay for the time being.  It seemed like a no-brainer of a choice, but it did actually come with a few concerns for Tanos, mainly revolving around how much he could actually trust the odd prisoner.  What if Rivis’ tears and mannerisms were all just excellent acting?  What if Rivis was planning to harm him in some way?  Or worse, his family? What if Rivis’ story was a lie?  What if he was planning to feed the whole kingdom of Adimyos false information to aid the Ensin?  They were definitely risks that couldn’t be ignored. Tanos briefly considered giving him something a bit less comfortable, like a repurposed closet or storage room, as a way of making it clear that he wasn’t exactly off the hook, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  If it turned out Rivis was being completely truthful, he did want to help Adimyos, and he was forced to work with the Ensin, Tanos would feel absolutely awful about it, even if he was only being paranoid for the good of his family and country.  Ultimately, he simply chose the option of having guards watch the guest room to make sure Rivis wouldn’t try anything, and he also made sure all the guards and servants in the castle and on the property knew the situation so they could keep an eye out for anything strange. Rivis eventually came back, escorted by the same guards who took him to get medical attention.  It wasn’t the finest possible care, but it was decent.  He’d been bandaged and treated with medicinal poultices where needed, and given a white padded eyepatch for his swollen eye, but he definitely still looked like he’d seen better days. As Tanos showed Rivis where he’d be staying, Rivis let out a small gasp, and actually walked through the room on his tiptoes, looking around cautiously as if he weren’t supposed to be there at all.  “Are you really fine with wasting such a good room on me?”  Rivis said disbelievingly. “Unless I am proven otherwise, I will treat you as someone worthy of respect.  But if you seem to be acting suspicious, there will be consequences.  Is that clear?” “Y-yes, of course, Your Highness…  I promise not to be ungrateful,” Rivis said. “Good.  But for the time being, you should freshen up and prepare for dinner,” Tanos said.  “Someone will be bringing it to you soon.  I’ll be doing the same now, if you’ll excuse me,” Rivis gave the briefest questioning glance towards Tanos’ soft, bulging stomach, as if a bit surprised he was going to be eating again when he already seemed so full, but all he did was nod in response. Tanos quickly went to freshen up and change into clean clothes, which weren’t much different from his previous ones, but his new top was a looser, flowing, translucent black silk that only covered his chest, still leaving his stomach completely exposed and unrestricted.   Once he went to the dining room, it was largely the same as before, with the exception of the family all briefly slowing their feasting to look at him.  It was honestly sort of incredible that they actually heard him coming over the sounds of constant chewing and gulping, but they definitely slowed down to look at him. Once he sat down, the questioning started right away, some of it a bit muffled because no one would entirely stop eating. “So, what’re you gonna do with the thief?”  Thrin asked with a sadistic grin.  “Hard labor?  Sleeping on the floor in the basement?  Killing giant rats?  Gross food in tiny portions?” “I’m going to treat him with respect, of course,” Tanos said simply, causing the whole table to look at him rather oddly.  “ “But… he was planng to do something bad to Majos, wasn’t he?” said a girl just slightly shorter and less incredibly obese than Honjya or Thrin, but still quite similar looking. “I know, Iyin, but… It’s just… He doesn’t seem like a bad person… He just seems desperate and afraid…”  Tanos said. “Last time I checked, that’s called ‘acting’…” Lamtu said dryly.  There were a few snickers from others, but restrained enough to not choke or spit out drinks. “I admit I could be wrong.  But for now, I don’t want to be too harsh on him if there’s no proof I should be.  He’s not Ensin.  He definitely doesn’t look like one, and he says he was forced to fight,” “He said so?  He speaks our language well enough to explain himself?” Lamtu asked. “Apparently,”  Tanos replied with a shrug.  When some of the others stared at him with raised eyebrows and small frowns, he pushed his chair back slightly and sunk down a bit lower in his seat.  “I know it all seems suspicious, but…  I just really don’t want him to suffer more than he has to,” Tanos said. “I know how you feel, but… We’re just worried about you, is all,”  Honjya said with a patient smile. “If he should try anything suspicious, he’ll pay dearly.  Those who would lie to royalty in order to endanger Adimyos must be punished harshly,” the king said coldly, somehow making Tanos a bit nervous by proxy.  Although he hardly knew anything about Rivis, he desperately hoped Rivis wasn’t lying.  Not only for the sake of his home and those he cared about, but for the sake of Rivis himself. Dinner progressed rather normally after that, as everyone became too engrossed in eating to bother talking.  Even Tanos managed to painstakingly match his lunchtime intake, but he made another plate anyway in order to bring it to Rivis, which only elicited stares and murmurs from the rest of his family, to the point that Thrin actually got up and began following him, in spite of her heavily bloated, hanging stomach weighing her down. “Alright, let me see what in the name of Feylya is apparently so special and innocent about this random criminal that you want to give him some of the best food there is…”  Thrin said with a scowl, although her threatening tone was diminished somewhat by a loud burp afterwards. Once they made their way to Rivis’ room, Rivis was there sitting on a bed that was rather awkwardly much too big for him.  Once he caught sight of Thrin looking so massive, heavily obese, extremely full, and yet clearly powerful, he could do little more than stare completely frozen with his mouth agape. “H-hello, Princess… Nice to meet you…  My name- my name is Rivis…”  Rivis forced out, although he was hardly even able to look at Thrin at all.  Thrin just sneered rather coldly, as Tanos gave him the plate of food. “I… I couldn’t possibly…”  Rivis started.  “I’m grateful, but this is far too much food!” Both Tanos and Thrin just exchanged side glances for a moment before Tanos spoke.  “…Too much?” “I-I do not mean to say it wasn’t an incredibly kind and gracious thing to do, Your Highness, but…  my people do not have such marvelous stomach capacities…” “Too bad.  Eat.  My little brother is being nice to your scrawny, bony ass, so eat!”  Thrin said, as she took a step forward and stomped the floor hard enough to make the whole room shake. “Right away!  My apologies!”  Rivis said, as he took the food and immediately took a huge bite out of some kind of large meatloaf coated in a thick gravy.  Immediately, Rivis’ one good eye went wide, even tearing up slightly.  He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he immediately stuffed another large bite into his mouth and let out a moan of pleasure.  As quickly as he could, he sampled everything on the plate, moaning with pleasure and slightly blushing the entire time. After a couple of minutes, he regained control of himself long enough to speak.  “This is incredible!  The food is every bit as amazing as I’ve heard!” “Yeah, yeah, all those pale ass skeletons hear we have better food and spices than them and they come running over here like a slavering pack of dogs,”  Thrin said irritably.  “And you came right with them.” “I was forced,” Rivis said quietly.  “I had no choice…  I’m sorry…  I-I never wanted to submit to the Ensin, I’m Lyphorian…” “…Lyphorian?  Aren’t they a bunch of nomads and healers?  I’ve heard you help the Ensin all the time of your own free will!”  Thrin said. “That’s… how it used to be.  But the Ensin just act like that’s how it still is…  Our situation is actually like yours.  They wanted our land and resources for a long time, but they had no choice but to respect our independence because we had people skilled in so many areas of magic, to the point where there were things they completely relied on our help for…  And our culture emphasizes helping others.  We even willingly let them buy a generous portion of our territory for much less than it was really worth, and yet they still wanted more.” “Pfft.  Then we’re not the same.  Our country would never let anyone have our territory, especially not on sale!”  Thrin replied with a laugh.  Tanos just listened closely… For just a moment, he thought he saw Rivis’ good eye glow slightly, while the odd black metal rings on his throat and upper arms seemed to constrict slightly… But just as soon as he thought he saw it, it was over.   “Yes.  But please understand, Princess.  Things have changed.  They… don’t need us like they used to.  Their magic advanced.  They learned, they got richer, and now…  Now they just use us however they please.  They… they took me when I was thirteen years old.  They took my little sister and I from a poor, remote, miserable village in the dead of winter, when we couldn’t possibly stand a chance against them…  And made me into a soldier.  Do you know how Lyphorian magic works, Princess?”  Rivis said. “The more life force sitting around in the air, the more power, or some shit like that…”  Thrin said. “Exactly.  That’s why, according to the Ensin, a Lyphorian makes for the perfect soldier to invade Adimyos…”  Rivis said. “Yeah, or you willingly handed yourself over for money and you’re just making you sister up to make this story seem sadder…”  Thrin replied with a smirk.  Once again, Rivis’ eye glowed, but this time for a couple of seconds, and with more intensity, making it easier to notice.  The thick black rings began to smoke slightly and noticeably tighten, enough to make Rivis flinch. “Her name was Pavmes.  Pavmes Sivir.  And she existed.  She existed, and she had dreams and struggles… and she only lasted two years…  Because of them, she didn’t even get to turn eleven!  They killed her!  How dare you make fun of that?!”  Rivis said, his voice becoming cold and low as his one good eye glowed brighter than ever.  The black rings began smoking more heavily, while constricting so much they were elaving new bruises and Rivis began clutching frantically at his neck before the glow in his eye finally waned, and he was able to breathe again… although his breaths quickly became ragged and shaky as he descended into quiet sobbing, despite how he’d been blissfully happy over his food just moments ago. “…You’re awful, you know that?”  Tanos said coldly to Thrin, who just looked away from them rather stiffly as she slowly backed away a bit. “You know he could’ve been making it up!” “Would it harm literally anything to just believe that he had a sister?  Are you proud of yourself, denying him even the absolute bare minimum of trust?”  Tanos asked scathingly, while glaring up at his big sister. “…I apologize,” Thrin said, just loudly enough to hear, before stiffly turning and leaving as abruptly as her massive frame would allow. “…She meant the apology,” Tanos said to Rivis rather awkwardly.  Rivis calmed himself after a moment and managed to sit up straight.   “…Of course she would think I’m lying.  There really are people who do what she said…  More than I’d care to admit… People who give themselves up for money…  People who give their kids up for money…  But… it’s…  that’s how it is!  Royalty like you wouldn’t understand!  You wouldn’t understand the desperation, the helplessness, the pain, the terror…  You just live here, eating heavenly food until you’re tight and round and not worrying about anything!”  Rivis cried. “…You’re right,” Tanos replied simply.  “I… I’m sorry I don’t understand that kind of life.  That kind of pain,” “…I… thank you…”  Rivis said. “You’re welcome…  But… your food is going to get cold.  And you still never explained how you can talk to us so easily.”  Tanos said. “It’s an extension of my magic.  There are a few minor things these limiters I wear don’t prevent, especially now that I’m in Adimyos.  I’m a bit connected with any lifeform near me.  Our energy automatically begins to exchange in a balanced cycle.  It’s only a weak sort of thing, but with some practice you can manipulate it enough to more easily understand someone’s thoughts and feelings, and it works the same for them.” “Definitely didn’t seem that way with Thrin or the guards…”  Tanos said. “Like I said, it’s weak.  It works much better when someone is actually open and cooperative like you,” Rivis explained.  “Negativity and distrust easily disrupts it, but at least everyone still understands my words, so I suppose I can live with it.”       “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally cleared that up.  Now… please try your best to finish your meal.   You look far too skinny,” Tanos said. “I was expecting I’d get even skinnier, honestly.  But the food I was given as a prisoner here was already much better than I was expecting.  Sometimes better than what I was already being fed before, actually.” “Really?  You were actually satisfied with such sad portions?” Tanos asked. “Probably the best part of being a prisoner here, honestly…”  Rivis said, which just made Tanos shake his head sadly. “Just finish your meal, please,” Tanos said.  Rivis happily obliged, but hit a wall in only about twenty minutes, as his body began to realize his stomach was at its limit… And yet, his stomach was bulging several times less than Tanos’, which would be much fuller even after a lengthy nap.  Overall, Rivis had probably eaten only about three pounds of the very rich food, for well over 3,000 calories. Tanos merely sat on the end of the bed the entire time, even though he realized he could simply leave.  “Is there anything I can change about it, next time?”  Tanos asked. “It was perfect just like it was… I’ve never had anything so good…”  Rivis said, as he gingerly laid down on the bed to get more comfortable.  “It’s a wonder you’re still only that big, eating so much of this perfect food every day…”  Rivis said. “It’s a difference in the bodies of my people.  There’s a certain stage we need to get past before we can get too enormous.  It’s called the Great Shift.  I’m hoping mine will be over soon, I’m quite overdue by now,” Tanos said. “I… uhm… I wish you luck with that, Prince,”  Rivis said with a small smile. “Thank you… But you must be getting tired now.  I’ll leave you to rest.  Someone will come get the plate for you,” Tanos said, returning the slight smile as he left the room.   Although it was a bit of a strange situation, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

[goatsandgangsters]

Okay so now it is time for The Thinky Thoughts About Actual Hamlet, rather than just The Encounter

tl;dr: the production was iNCREDIBLE, the entire cast was phenomenal, the staging was very interesting and they made a lot of cool choices, it was also one of the funniest productions of Hamlet I’ve ever seen and there were times when I laughed until my sides hurt, but also I wanted to cry very often too, my review is going to admittedly be Biased, but like I said, the entire cast was phenomenal

The entirety of the opening scene was done with all of the lights completely off, except for the occasional very, very dim spot on the ghost. This was repeated again when Hamlet tags along for the watch, and I thought it was a great lighting choice to have us literally in the dark

Regarding humorous touches, Anatol’s first line when he’s addressed is like... he’s just taken a sip of his drink and gets a very deer-in-headlights “I was called on by the teacher and I don’t know the answer” look and momentarily just kind of... freezes with panic. There was a lot of subtle humor and also humanizing.

They stripped away a lot of the nobility and the pomp from the characters and they seemed very un-artistocratic. It really centered it as a family drama, which I loved. Cladius also had such a wonderful skeeze factor to him, like he was more your gross drunk uncle than your well-bred aristocrat uncle

The “methinks I see my father” was hilarious, with horatio and co. freezing and turning in sync, completely panicked that they’re about to see the ghost again. the humor of that whole exchange was really fresh

huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurgh ophelia and laertes sibling feelings. they completely nailed the teasing sibling dynamic

also, um. so those jeans that he was wearing were... very tight. very, very tight. they were tighter than the skinny jeans I was wearing, let’s put it that way. and at one point he bent over directly in front of us and uh, wow. worth the price of admission just for that (a very talented actor but um, that was a bonus)

In general, I really love Polonius. He was bumbling and like Such a Dad, without seeming too incompetent? I think sometimes he can be too much of a buffoon and you’re left wondering why he’s been employed this long? And like, he was definitely a buffoon, but it was too much? That, or maybe my threshold for belief that absolute idiots can hold positions of political power has expanded

And as long as I’m on the subject, Ophelia was incredible. Easily my second-fave performance of everyone. She was very... solid? I feel like acting choices usually make Ophelia very delicate and waifish and fragile, but she felt like a snarky young girl who might be the protagonist of a coming of age indie movie about a snarky young girl making her way in indie new york, with like, a guitar or something. You know? Like, you never got the sense that she was a breakable wisp. She stress ate a lasagna on stage. She “nope”d the fuck out of her brother giving her The Sex Talk and rolled under a table to ignore him. #Relatable

Most of the cast doubled as the theatre troupe that comes for a visit, which was great for, you know, reasons. Reasons of your fave not fucking off to France for half the show

I won’t lie, there were definite times when I completely tuned out what was happening on stage in favor of watching Anatol just like... exist. His calves, man. His calves are mighty and sculpted. He was moving furniture during one scene and I have no idea what anyone said. I cannot express to you how tight these jeans were

Keegan-Michael Key doing the prologue of the play-within-a-play was the honest to god funniest thing I’ve ever seen. It was just five straight minutes of him making odd noises and gesticulating wildly. I laughed until my face hurt. I laughed until my sides ached. I cannot remember the last time I laughed that hard. And this is not something I usually say about a production of Hamlet

My favorite part about this though was that I get the sense he may have gone on longer than usual? Because when he started it, the cast was relatively composed, and then even they started to lose it. Like there was a definite shift where like... he was done but then oH NO HE WAS NOT DONE and you could tell suddenly that the whole cast was struggling to keep their shit together. anatol went from stoic, to hand over his mouth with telltale eyebrows raised so you knew he was smiling, to honest to god covering his entire face with his hand

Oh, going backwards a little bit, Oscar Isaac was very frequently in his underwear and stabbed a poor defenseless lasagna to death. It was not honestly as bad as what the cryptic tweets about it made it seem. Unless he decided to scale back that night, but he only stabbed it to death. But yeah, I have... seen more of him than perhaps I cared to see, if I’m honest

So, okay, not to make it seem like Oscar Isaac wasn’t amazing, because he was absolutely amazing, but this was the first production of Hamlet that really seemed like it was about the ensemble. Everything else I’ve seen has always been Hamlet centered, with everything else always seeming to orbit him (which, you know, he is the title), but this was very much... I really felt like this was as much about everyone else as it was about him. All in all, it was just such a stellar cast

The scene with Hamlet joking about Polonius’s dead body is hilarious no matter what, but it’s even better when he literally kicks someone out of their front row seat to throw Polonius into it and hide him under a playbill (there was, on the whole, a lot of audience engagement)

SPEAKING OF POLONIUS, dear god I feel bad for this guy. and for whoever has to clean the theatre after every show. BEARING IN MIND THAT THE STAGE IS CARPETED, the poor guy is lying dead on the ground, while Ophelia drags in two giant plants from the lobby of the theatre, yanks out the plant, and dumps two giant things of dirt on him. and then arranges the flowers on his face.

which, getting ahead of myself here, but instead of having an off-stage death, she hauls an actual working hose on stage, completely drenches herself, places the hose on the mound of dirt that is Polonius, WHICH IS NOW  QUICKLY BECOMING A RIVER OF MUD ON THE CARPETED FLOOR, and then she lies down next to him to also die in the mud and the flowers, which was visually very powerful, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable it must be to lie on stage covered in mud

but yeah, backtracking a bit. the BELLOWING ROAR OF “WHERE IS THIS KING” from off-stage as Anatol comes charging on and immediately runs at Claudius with a butcher knife. mm boy.

contrasted with the only moment in the play where I actually did cry, which was the piteous way that he crumpled upon hearing of Ophelia’s death. hhhhhhhrgh

I’m not sure whether it was hilarious or painful that Polonius and Ophelia played the gravediggers. I mean they WERE hilarious and that scene was so excellent, but also like. ouch. harsh. way harsh. way to pour mud in the wounds. (there was so much mud on this poor carpet)

Hamlet and Horatio were chilling in the audience for this scene. I’m pretty sure Keegan was on some woman’s lap.

and now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, kICK HIS ASS TINY LAERTES!!!!!!!!!!!! and that’s the story of how I watched anatol (in very tight jeans) tackle oscar isaac to the ground and choke the fuck out of him in a giant pool of actual mud. oscar isaac’s face was actually turning red, I could see the tendons in anatol’s hands, and I was honestly a little concerned

anyway then Hamlet like... talked about himself or some shit while cuddling Ophelia’s dead body, but I was honestly paying more attention to Claudius and Horatio, who were still wrestling with Anatol in the mud. #filthy #noliterally

uUUMMMM WHAT ELSE WHAT ELSE well, okay, at that point. I kind of feel like I had already ascended onto another plane of existence, such was The Strength of that entire scene, between Polonius and Ophelia being hilarious gravediggers, the clever wordplay (and oh, the irony, of Polonius now being the one to best Hamlet in contest of words and wits), between me being in agony about brokenhearted and enraged Laertes, between Professional Mud Wrestling Smackdown ... what more could I possibly need in my life?

but yeah, then anatol and oscar isaac beat each other up in full fencing gear

then everyone was dead

me included

just drag my body on stage and throw it in with the rest of the carnage (and mud) because I am dead. completely dead. consider my mortal coil completely shuffled off. 

everyone was incredible, the choices they made were incredible, anatol’s jeans were incredible, the double casting was very deliberate and drew a lot of interesting parallels (the hecuba speech and laertes in general as foils for hamlet, by the same actor; polonius finally outwitting hamlet; and of course claudius as claudius and his brother goes without saying)

it was funny, it was moving, it was fresh, it was creative, it was stellar, it was very muddy