#no offense to the actual cover artist it is a very cool cover

[dufrau]

actually so grateful to all the fan artists who looked at the cover of Gideon the Ninth and said "no fuck this she is so much huger and butcher than this"

[earth-7103984]

Emilia Gonzales - The Beast

Took a bit of a break, but now I'm back to introduce the characters from my universe!

Emilia is a young teen, who originally lived in Chile. She was visiting one of the islands of Chiloé, when she came across a dark presence. She had wandered off into the woods, exploring and just having a look around, when she saw a brujo. Taking the mere act of being seen by the girl as an offense, the brujo cursed the poor girl.

Her parents found her, unconscious, a few hours later. Once they went back to their hotel, the beast emerged. The curse given to her causes her to turn into a horrible beast that only has the instinct of killing anyone and anything it comes across. By the time she came back to being herself, she didn't remember anything, only finding herself in the ruins of the hotel, covered in blood. Her parents were dead.

Having no way to go back home in Santiago and no money to stay anywhere else, she had no choice but to live in the streets, but the locals quickly caught on to her after more incidents with the beast occurred, basically running the poor girl back into the woods.

Eventually, a very secretive organization heard the rumours of this beast and sent a small team to capture it, so they could use it as their own personal weapon. Luckily for them, as the change was completely random, they captured the girl with ease, bringing her to their base of operations, somewhere in New York.

They experimented on her, trying to see what triggered the transformation, but were unsuccessful. Then, when it finally happened, completely unrelated to their experiments, the beast broke free, killing several guards on its way, and escaped to the streets of New York, which is where Emilia is currently living.

As for some out of universe story... There really isn't much, as I one day simply doodled a monster I thought looked cool and sent it to my artist, before commissioning some art and thinking of a simplified version of this backstory. This is actually the first time I expand on it.

Art commissioned from @Angelesrevill_ on Twitter.

[yukeet]

ohh thanks for the tag :]

Last Song: Dandelions by Ruth B. ! recently I've been connecting a lot of songs to someone who used to be my friend, and this song feels more like dreaming for the future when I'll have more of "my people", and overall it's a very nice song :) I've also been listening to a cover of it by Lindsay Jade called "Dandelions Ruth B. (but courageous lyrics)" which feels like letting go of the people who don't care and being happy for the good people i have left. very good song, I've actually had it downloaded for ages and only yesterday really got around to listening to it(and the cover)

Currently Watching: nothing right now! but i just finished Scott Pilgrim vs. the World which was pretty cool. the art was awesome. though somehow if I close my eyes and try to imagine Scott Pilgrim I just see Danny Phantom, I never even watched Danny Phantom

Currently Reading: BUNCH OF STUFF!!! love books. I just started rereading Anne of Green Gables, I read the first few when i was really young but never read the ones where Anne is grown up, and since I want to I'm rereading the whole thing from the start :D I'm reading Sophocles plays, Antigone, Oedipus Rex, and Electra, I'm very slowly making my way through The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, and I'm reading quite a lot of books that are nonfiction

and this is something I actually finished a while ago, but if you want a book about the struggles of addiction and how the people you surround yourself in change who you are and if you can get better, The Lola Quartet by Emily St. John Mandel utterly ruined me for like 3 days, which might not seem like that long but I'm normally sad over book characters for like an hour

Current Obsession: uhh hmm thats hard, maybe James Marriotts music? I knew he made songs but never listened to them until a few days ago and I love them. I thought I wouldn't because I'm not the biggest fan of lovejoy's stuff and somehow i thought it would be similar because.. idk british youtuber singing? but I really like his songs (and no offense to lovejoy enjoyers its just not for me </3)

I don't really have anyone to tag for this because I mostly follow bigger artists and I'm not insane enough to tag them, but if anyone sees this and wants to rb go ahead :)

Get To Know You game

Got tagged by @ah0yh0y THANKS BUDDY!!!! Here's the link to her original post

Questions: last song you listened to, currently watching, currently reading, current obsession

Last song: I'm listening to What Else Can I Do? from Encanto sung by Diane Guerrero and Stephanie Beatriz on repeat. I just love Encanto's songs. The part when Mirabel sings to Isabel about her being perfect her whole life - and her voice changes from doleful to joy and happiness for her sister? MMMMHMMMM 👌TEARS ME UP.

Currently watching: Not... anything really. I haven't been reading novels or watching TV shows or movies lately. Gosh, school is so consuming, especially with the extracurriculars I've taken up.

But I remember watching Danny Phantom last. I got DVDs from the library and was watching it in our old laptop which had a DVD player. They dont make laptops like those anymore. And we dont have a DVD player for the TV. And that laptop broke. So idk where else to watch Danny Phantom :(

Currently reading: As i said, not really reading many novels atm. I'm reading fanfic! The last fanfic I read was mine XD More specifically Let Them Be Siblings. I wanted to check out how far along the series I was and then got sucked.

But the other last fanfic i read was... I'm Just a Kid (I Know That It's Not Fair) by StoriesAreMagic cuz they updated <3

The last novel I read? ...I can't recall. It was that long ago- NO WAIT! I picked up some novels from the library for my sisters and I sometimes read my sister's books. There's this one series I especially like. It's called 'Phoebe and her Unicorn', and it is good, I tell you. Very good. The jokes aren't like kid jokes. They speak something deeper.

Current obsession: So many. Idk. Tim Drake? DC?

No pressure Tags: @sardonic-sprite @pevensiechase @themundanemudperson @spiiderpunk @tristicorde @wakkoroni @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego @cygnusdoesthings @uncertainwallflower @betterthanbatman1 @birdybat @mispeltnostalgia @tireddruid

[olderthannetfic]

i've never understood what people meant about tattoos looking awful, what's wrong with jk's? is it the design or like the, execution I guess? all I know about 'good' tattoos is from that one post from years ago that explained good tattoos shouldn't look say unsaturated or have colors spilling out of the lines of whatever, and I figured jk's tattoos don't seem to do any of that so they they must not be bad...?

I don't have much of an opinion on jk's sleeve, from the little i've seen i just think it's cool he has it I guess? but tons of people seem to hate it and idgi? and I want to get it less for jk and more bc I want to get tattoos one day too lol

--

There are several ways to evaluate tattoos.

Technical skill at the physical act of tattooing: Are the lines that are supposed to be straight actually straight? Are colors where they should be? Do solid areas look solid? Many bad tattoos fail here, but I don't think that's why people hate JK's.

Long-term feasibility: Was this tattoo designed by someone who understands what will look like absolute shit in 2 years. JK's are fine here, but all those ultra thin loopy line tattoos BTS fans get of album covers are going to look like garbage as the ink spreads. Things with straight lines are even worse. Some body parts are more likely to sag and deform a very precise tattoo too.

Fine arts design skill: Is the overall composition pleasing and balanced? If lines nearly intersect in one place but not another, is that intended to draw the eye or create tension, or is it an error? Do the elements come together to create one coherent artwork consisting of body and tattoos, or is the body a storage space for random shit that does not go together? This is similar to how we tell if a composition of a photo or painting is good.

Frankly, JK's sleeve looks like a hodgepodge shoved together without good layout skills. I'd need clearer photos of it to really nitpick, but even if there are thematic connections, it doesn't seem well designed visually.

And finally, BAD TASTE: Some tattoos are executed fine, but the choice of subject matter is offensive, stupid, or just plain ugly.

JK's hand tattoos look like he drew on his hand with a sharpie. What the fuck kind of junior high bullshit is that? Ugggggggly!

--

For myself, I chose to get a tattoo of a wayang kulit puppet I got as a child. I found a tattoo artist who's also a fine artist and had him do a creative interpretation of the shadow because I wanted a tattoo in black ink only, and I wanted any age-related fuzziness to work with the design instead of against it. I chose a Mexican guy who does a lot of Aztec and Mayan-inspired art because while the specific art traditions are different, there are some commonalities.

Like with commissioning fan art or any other art, pick someone who already works in a style close to what you want.

I chose a size and position I thought made an overall nice composition on my body, wrapping around my left shoulder, and when I get a second one, it will be on my right hip to make my overall body look like one artwork.

There are styles of tattoo I find very beautiful and ones I don't like, just on an aesthetic, artistic level, same as I don't like every painter or cartoonist. Some things I find pretty I still wouldn't get though.

I've been fascinated with irezumi since I was a teen, but the level of color would clash with too many of my outfits, so I would probably not get a tattoo like this myself.

But overall, I do love how beautiful these are as artworks (even aside from being tattoos) and how they turn the entire body into one canvas.

I only like fairly large tattoos, say covering the entire upper arm with one design, and I hate small flash (prefab) designs. I would never get something on me that came out of an artist's back catalogue, and since I'm making a body-level artwork, I want it to be something of a size that shows in the context of looking at my whole body. If it's going on my body permanently, then it will be designed by some combination of me and my artist to my unique specifications.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #80 Review

woot woot i’ve kept it up for three issues lets gooo. i liked this issue more than the last one. there’s a lot of fanon dick characterization peppered in, but not so much that it puts me off entirely. also, i’m getting increasingly concerned about bitewing. but i did like tim in this one, very nice

look at all the blue and purple and pink. honestly at this point, i’m a broken record but come on come on come onnnnnnn. the blue and pink is very pretty though. this cover’s a bit offputting at first, and a bit spiraly, which i’m sure was the intended effect.

this is a genuine concern of mine. dick’s a vigilante, and he doesn’t have the same sprawling network and resources that bruce does. (even if he is a billionaire now, he hasn’t amassed the same collection of crime-fighting equipment that bruce has.) 

i’m not sure if he’ll be able to take care of bitewing. damian’s got plenty of pets, but alfred used to take care of them, and now bruce plus the rest of the batfam is taking care of them. as far as we know, babs only drops by occasionally, and the same goes for dick’s family and friends. will dick be able to give bitewing the love and time and affection that a traumatized puppy like her needs? i really hope so.

she does look adorable in this panel tho.

dick. richard. richie. baby. why are you shirtless.

you have scars upon scars. probably chemical burns. bullet wounds. weird fucking squiggly lines from knives that only psychos with blade fetishes use. no normal person has the body that you do. and you don’t think that showing up shirtless in front of the police is going to raise suspicion? you don’t think that the people accusing you of murder are going to look at someone who looks like they’re a fucking mob enforcer and go hmm that’s a bit suspicious?

put on a SHIRT jesus CHRIST it’s like you’re not even trying to hide your identity.

look at this pompous little princess demanding only the highest quality head pets i’d burn down latvia for her. (no offense latvians it was the first country that popped into my head.)

pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy-

no seriously kudos to the artist here. his expression is so human i wanna cry. dick, right now, is sheepishly asking a question. he knows he’s not going to get into any real trouble, he knows that he’ll be able to talk his way out of or somehow maneuver his way off this mess. but he’ll play nice for the police, so he’s asking a friend for a favour, part self-condescendingly and part oh-well-what-can-you-do.

and his expression reflects that. rather than a stoic expressionless face most male comic characters have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), rather than the weird desperate supposedly “seductive” face that most female comic characters plus dick grayson have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), he’s making a face that i pulled like yesterday. or the day before that. it’s kind of silly, kind of casual, very much human. i like it.

thank god. proper (in character) acknowledgement for officer grayson. yea, fuck cops in general, but i like that they included this line.

obviously, he’s not talking about the actual criminals, he’s talking about the police force itself. the bpd was too corrupt, and dick realized that he wasn’t helping. not only does one clean cop not make a dent in an overall dirty force, but dick was putting his allies in danger too. not only that, but it wasn’t good for dick’s mental health either. he was spreading himself too thin, and surrounding himself with some of the worst of crime 24/7 did a number on him. dick’s got a history of self-sacrificing tendencies, and i’m just glad he’s not a cop anymore.

dick has a gotham rogues mug. they make gotham rogue mugs, and dick has one.

what kinda city looks at it’s frankly horrible crime history and long list of certifiably insane serial killers who are all still alive and actively committing war crimes and goes “oooooh yea imma put that on a coffee mug!” gotham, that’s who.

this isn’t important i just like how all of bitewing’s barks are blue

back straight, hand on his hip, cheerful smile on his face as he says he’s being accused for murder. love that for him.

they couldn’t have said “yea it’s complicated” in a better way even if they put the words “yea it’s complicated” right there on the page in bold red letters. literally all the love to the artists.

dick please. you’re KILLING ME what the actual fuck IS THAT???? WHY DO YOU HAVE A MUG OF THAT???

anyway nightwing collects novelty mugs confirmed.

this paneling is so beautiful. 

tim’s the focus, but he’s not the first thing you see. he’s placed in a way that forces the reader to drag their eyes all the way up the page in order to reach him. it us know just how high up tim is carelessly crouching, especially close to the ledge of the building too. i cannot think of a single better way to introduce a character, and this character in particular: you instantly know this is a version of tim with plenty of experience and training, is comfortable in his body and knows his limits, but still hangs onto that civilian awe of being in a high place and overlooking a brightly lit city.

absolute classic robin. i love it. 

this isn’t even that important but it made me happy. this is how you train surf.

you don’t crouch or bend over when you get to a tunnel, which is oddly enough what most people think (at least from my experience). you bend backward. that not only 100% ensures that you’ll make sure you’re low enough to make it through the tunnel (because you can see the top of the tunnel, unlike when you crouch or bend), but it also makes it easier to get up: all you have to do is push up with your arms into a bent stance, and you’ll be in a ready, moving position. from a bend or a crouch, getting up is more awkward and more slow.

on a meta level, i like that this creative team knows what they’re doing when it comes to the small, almost unimportant stuff like that, because it makes the action more real. (as real as you can get with a guy running around stealing hearts.)

on a in-universe level, it once again drives home both dick and tim’s experience and professional level skill.

regardless of who you side with in the “should tim drake be robin again?” debate, you gotta admit that tim’s rebirth robin suit is r a d as fuck. if i’m not mistaken, this is the same one he was wearing in 2019 young justice for a little bit? it’s cute and hella cool i like it.

remember what i said about human expressions? doesn’t happen as often to tim bc he’s a Child, but it’s still nice to note when someone humanizes him, too. (that’s why i love the duckboy panel so much lol.)

me, at first: that’s not a “good call” dick that’s just common sense

me, now: sprinkled throughout the entire comic we can see dick bending to tim’s instructions if only briefly, joking with him to keep the mood light while still maintaining a serious mood and retaining control over this particular outing. this implies that dick’s doing it intentionally, purposefully leaving places in his sentences blank and offering affirmations, in order to encourage tim and train him in things bruce might not necessarily touch on, such as social chameleoning and misdirection techniques and love/affirmation from a family member. dick is not only a loving and supportive big brother, but he never stops training his younger brother in better vigilante tecnhiques because he wants tim to be better than him. in this essay i will-

d o g g o

also bitewing is getting so many head pats today i’m living for it

look at him, standing on a telephone wire with ease. nice flex, dick.

also look at how he’s silhouetted. the moon’s full bright, bright enough that the sky around dick is light, too. (at least. i’m like 99% sure that’s the moon.) not like most batman comics, where it’s sometimes hard to distinguish bruce from the background, which is entirely on purpose.

gotham is a dark gritty city, and so is bruce. the two of them are one. bludhaven may be a bit of a mess, but it’s being portrayed in all these different shades of blue and purple and pink, that are all light enough that dick stands out from the background. he hasn’t been swallowed up by the city, and chances are that he won’t ever be. also, the colouring helps establish bludhaven as a city too. there’s still hope for it. the light colouring means that it’s not going to sink into a pit as deep as the one bruce wove gotham into. the whole point of this nightwing arc in particular is to turn bludhaven into a better place, and it’s (most likely) letting us know early on that dick is going to accomplish that. he’ll struggle, but he’ll do it.

so dick??? dick designed his escrima sticks with a situation like this in mind? he created his signature and most iconic weapon (other than his chatty mouth), with a built in feature that turns his escrima sticks into tim’s signature and most iconic weapon???? just so that if he and tim ever got into a situation where tim didn’t have his staff, dick could make sure tim had the thing that would give him an edge over anyone he was fighting??? he’s such a big brother oh my goddd.

also tim’s smirk in this is just *chef kiss.* a staff is something he can work with, a staff is something he wields like an extension of his arm, a staff is means that someone’s about to get their ass kicked because tim’s about to beat the shit outta them.

this is my new phone background.

they really made sure we remembered that hey, those first few months when bruce was grieving too much to be any sort of a mentor to tim and was still unwilling to properly train him to be robin out of fear that he would end up like jason, dick was the one who stepped up (once he got over himself and his own fears and hangups with bruce) and trained tim to be robin, trained him how to fight and flip and fuckin fly out there, all while changing his own style a bit to be the more experienced one in the partnership while still trusting said partner to hold their own, so dick and tim have a very unique and cohesive fighting style that makes it hell for anyone who fights them together, didn’t they?

[staticscreenwriting]

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 4

Four - Casablanca

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“ You dressed up! “

God damnit. He should’ve known. He really should’ve. Sam stands by his side, shit-eating grin splitting his face in two. He should’ve just worn a plain sweater and no one would’ve commented on it.

But then would she look at him with that joyful sparkle in her eyes and that gorgeous smile? Maybe the little dressing up that he did do, and all the teasing comments from Sam, are worth it if means she’ll look at him like that.

“I didn’t dress up.” Doesn’t mean he has to admit it. No now, not ever.

“ Uh, your jeans are cuffed. You’ve never done that!” (Y/N) points out to which Sam chimes in with a loud “that’s what I said!” words dripping with amusement.

“ It’s just my jeans, it’s not a big deal.”

“ And you quiffed your hair!”

Bucky glances towards Sam who stands beside him with the biggest smile any person has ever displayed in all the times humans have walked this earth. His joy at Bucky’s obvious discomfort knowing no boundaries and, if it weren’t at his own expense, Bucky would even find Sam’s amusement quite contagious.

“ You totally did! He totally did! I didn’t even notice. Hi,” he says and shakes (Y/N)’s hand “ I’m Sam.”

“ So nice to meet you, Sam. And you dressed up too! As a sexy Ghostbuster!”

Bucky can basically feel Sam’s ego inflate at those words and he knows, for a fact, he’ll never hear the end of it.

“ That’s right! I am a sexy Ghostbuster. Not a regular one. That’s exactly what I was going for, thank you. Man, I love her already.” Sam says, directed at both, (Y/N) but mostly at Bucky.

“ You look lovely too, by the way,” Sam points out and for the first time since they arrived, Bucky gives himself a moment to take her in entirely. Not just the little things, the twinkle in her eyes, the warm radiance of her smile. Her. All of her.

The blue and white checkered pinafore dress she’s wearing reaches down to her knees, her legs are covered by white knee-high socks and at her feet, a pair of ruby red heels sparkle as the light reflects against them.

She looks beautiful but what really makes Bucky’s heart skip just a tiny fraction of a beat is the fact that he knows who she’s supposed to be and, whether she did it purposefully or not doesn’t matter, he feels included for the first time in so long.

“ You’re Dorothy.” his lips produce words that his brain didn’t sign off on. They just slip out. They hold so much weight that even if he’d acted fast enough, he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to hold them back. They’re so seemingly insignificant but they hold a meaning that Bucky isn’t sure anyone will ever fully comprehend. Steve would’ve but Steve is — not here.

He hopes (Y/N) understands even a small fraction of what it means to him. And when she smiles, he thinks she might.

“ I am. Do you like it?”

“ You look beautiful. “ And she does. She really does.

Sam is grinning away like he’s just heard the best news and Bucky isn’t sure if he prefers this to his outright laughter at his discomfort or not. This smirk seems like some inside joke Bucky doesn’t get. Like Sam knows something he doesn’t.

“ Can I get you guys something to drink? Beers? “

“ That would be great “ Sam replies.

“ Grumpy? “

“ Sure.”

He can’t get drunk, that’s one of the little things the Serum changed about him. It’s not like he’s here to get drunk anyway but to feel the enthusiastic buzz that alcohol can wash through your system, would be nice. He hardly remembers what that felt like.

He’s gonna drink some beer either way though. It gives him the feeling of fitting in, of belonging with the crowd. Even if he knows that’s one big lie. Sometimes you have to lie to yourself to keep your heart from breaking.

Kim isn’t a friend. Not really. She’s a friend of a friend who somehow always tags along whenever (Y/N)’s friend group gets together. She’s never actually invited but she’s always there anyway. Tonight is no exception.

She’s dressed in some kind of last-minute DIY deer costume, one of those that have been popular a few years back on Youtube, and the way she smirks at (Y/N) as she enters the kitchen already makes the metaphorical alarm bells go off in (Y/N)’s head.

“ So, I didn’t know you know celebrities. “

“ What are you talking about, Kim? “

“ Oh, you know! “ Kim announces and slides up next to (Y/N), casually leaning against the kitchen counter. “ Do you think he can do some cool tricks with his metal arm? “

“ Who are you talking about? “

Obviously (Y/N) is well aware of who Kim is talking about. There’s only so many people with metal arms and only one of them finds himself at this very party. Still, she doesn’t give Kim the satisfaction of reacting to her ridiculous comment. Maybe, (Y/N) naively hopes, repeating her question will make Kim realize just how rude and offensive her words really are.

“The winter soldier! Who else. That’s him, isn’t it? “

“ No.”

“ You sure? I’m pretty certain that’s him.”

“ His name is Bucky!” (Y/N) clarifies, fixing Kim with a stare that conveys just how serious this is to her. “ And he is not some kind of circus freak or entertainer or something. He is my friend. “

Kim shrugs her shoulders so casually that it sends shivers of red hot rage through (Y/N)’s body. The audacity of this woman. “ Okay sure but he is the Winter Soldier, right? I don’t know why you’re acting so sensitive right now. Chill, girl.”

“ Fuck you, Kim. You are so disrespectful towards my friend. He’s so sweet and genuine and wonderful and he deserves to be seen for all that he is. He is not here for you to stare at like a caged animal and he sure as hell ain’t here to be reminded of his painful past. If you can’t treat him like a normal person, please leave. “

There’s a look on Kim’s face that (Y/N) hasn’t seen on her before. One of utter disbelief. One that lets her know that this was the last thing Kim was expecting. And for a little moment, a huge wave of triumphant enthusiasm crashes over her.

“ Whatever.” is all Kim replies once the shock has settled. With a pout on her lips, she shuffles out of the kitchen and back into the crowd. (Y/N) can’t tell for sure if she’s leaving but there’s no doubt in her mind that at least she won’t be harassing Bucky anytime soon.

A bitter taste settles on (Y/N) tongue, as she thinks about Kim’s words again. About the sick and twisted thoughts that reduce Bucky to little more than a human animatronic. It’s disgusting and so so sad and she just hopes Bucky hasn’t heard her say those things.

As she steps out of the kitchen and rounds the corner though, her hopes are squashed. There’s the usual pain on his face, the one that’s perpetually etched into his features as Bucky leans against the wall. But mixed in between, there’s something else. A confusing mess of emotions she can’t quite place. She knows though. He’s heard every last word.

“ Robin came over, started talking to Sam about some band I don’t know. Thought I’d come see if you need some help. “

“ Bucky, I — “

“ It’s fine.” He interrupts her. (Y/N) doesn’t think it’s really fine. Sometimes people just get so used to saying they feel fine, they actually start believing it. Only fine is not something you want to feel forever, is it? Fine shouldn’t be a permanent state. Fine should be temporary. A path to good. To great. To happy.

“ You sure? “

“ Yeah. I uh — I appreciate what you said.”

“ Oh sure. And I meant it. You’re my friend and you deserve all the good things life has to offer.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees with that sentiment. No, in fact, he’s sure that he doesn’t agree. While he is free of the pain that bound him to Hydra, he will never be entirely free of the guilt his past has put on him. One, he thinks, makes him undeserving of so many things. Like friends. Like happiness. Like love.

And yet it’s nice to know that other people see in him what he may never see in himself.

“ Now let’s go rescue Sam before Robin ropes him into some kind of wedding preparations.”

She says, hands Bucky a bottle, and then grabs his free hand to pull him towards the other side of the room where Robin, dressed as Jessica Rabbit, gestures around wildly as she talks to Sam.

At first, (Y/N) doesn’t even realize it but then she notices that the hand holding hers feels different. It’s not as soft to the touch as a hand usually is. The glove is warm and smooth under her skin but she wishes she could touch the metal. It’s not some kind of weird, misplaced fetishization or some sensationalism. It’s the fact that the arm is a part of Bucky as much as his eyes or his smile or his perpetual grumpiness. And she wants to know every part of him for they make him who he is, and who he is is wonderful.

3 hours.

It’s been 3 hours since they arrived at the party. 3 hours of music he doesn’t get from artists he doesn’t know. 3 hours of staying painfully sober while everyone around him gets exponentially more drunk. 3 hours of pretending not to notice the looks he’s getting.

3 hours and then it got too much. He’s well aware that this isn’t his time. By all means, he shouldn’t be here. Not like this. Stuck in a body that doesn’t match his actual age. Forever reminded of the fact that he’s not meant to be here. Usually, he tries to ignore that. Tries to learn about new things, tries to understand.

This party puts a mirror right in front of his face though. Makes it painfully obvious that this is not where he belongs.

What a party pooper he is. He’d hate himself. If his old self could see him now, standing alone on a balcony because he didn’t like the music inside. His old self would think of him as a coward. His old self is probably right.

“ Grumpy, what are you doing out here, all by yourself?”

For a second the music from the inside spills through the doors and into the serene night, only to be cut off a second later when (Y/N) steps onto the balcony and closes the door behind her.

“ Are you not having fun? “

“ It’s not that. It’s just —”

Just what? Bucky has no idea how to put it into words. It’s moments like this one where having Steve around would be so helpful. He’d understand and he’d know what to say. Steve always knew what to say. Steve just didn’t know when to shut up.

“ You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Ever.” (Y/N) says and bumps him with her shoulder as she leans against him looking out at the New York skyline.

“ I appreciate it.”

“ I was hoping you’d like my costume,” (Y/N) confesses after a moment. “ I feel like I tell you so much about all these movies you missed out on and I don’t know, maybe it’s silly, but I wanted you to feel in the know for once. Does that make sense? “

Bucky bites his lip for everything he wants to say is not something you tell someone you’ve only just befriended a few weeks ago. Never has he felt the need to spill his heart, with all his sorrows and fears and dreams, to anyone. Not until tonight. But it’s too much to burden her with. He can hardly carry the weight himself. To put it on her would be an awfully selfish thing to do.

So he just nods his head and smiles and he says “thank you” like it doesn’t mean anything when really it means the world.

“ Okay well, since I can’t bring you to the party — “ (Y/N) says and fumbles her phone from her dress pocket “ — I’ll just have to bring the party to you.”

For a moment she just types away on the screen before a familiar tune sounds from the speakers of her phone. A familiar tune, to Bucky. One he remembers dancing to when he was a whole other man.

Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Cocktail fills the air and Bucky’s lips unwillingly lift into a smile.

“ If I remember correctly,” (Y/N) says and reaches out her hand to him “ you owe me a dance.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, but grabs a hold of her hand anyway “That’s not how it works. You can’t just say someone owes you something simply because you want it.”

She’s so close now. He can see the lights reflecting in her eyes, can feel her chest lift with every breath she takes.

Here’s the thing about loneliness. After a while, you get used to it. It becomes a part of your life, of yourself, like breathing and sleep. You don’t even realize that you’re missing something. Until one day you’re chest to chest with a beautiful girl who thinks you’re wonderful and worthy of her friendship. And it’s then that you realize how lonely you were and how much it hurts and how much you’ve been missing the touch of another.

“ I’ve always wanted to dance through the night. Ever since I’ve first seen Moulin Rouge in the cinema.” (Y/N) says and they start to slowly but surely sway to the music. It’s tentative steps at first, shy and unsure. Barely there moves but there after all.

Sometimes it’s enough for things to be small. The big moments, the important ones don’t need to be big at all. Some of the most important ones don’t demand a lot of space and yet they take up all the space in your heart.

“ Do you remember your first time seeing a movie at the cinema? “ she asks, looking up at him with her starlight eyes.

It’s not a memory he can recall. It’s one of those that have been lost in the shuffle. Like a sweater you love that’s been lost in the laundry or a picture frame gone missing during a move.

“ I don’t. I do remember my last trip to the cinema though.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

This memory is so vivid, it could’ve happened yesterday. He remembers the old dusty velvet seats. He remembers the propaganda spot shown before the movie, the one that put a feeling in his gut as if he’d just swallowed a sack of bricks, now knowing what was to happen but expecting it. He remembers Ruth Dillinger and her gorgeous blond hair and the way it smelled like soap and flowers. And he remembers the movie.

“ Casablanca. Saw it on a date with a girl.”

“ Aw, you took her on a movie date? Lucky girl. “

“ I don’t know if I’d go that far. I wasn’t half as respectable of a guy back then. Was more interested in sneaking a kiss in the dark than taking her to see a good movie. “

“ Did you do the whole, yawning-arm-around-the-shoulder thing?”

“ Obviously.”

“ Oh, you were just a regular casanova, Mr. Barnes? “

“ For sure. “

New York feels alive with the power of possibility. Of a night being more than a night. Of small moments being big and big moments being so tiny and intimate and small. New York feels alive with emotions. Ones Bucky doesn't understand and couldn’t understand. But either way, he feels happier in that tiny insignificant moment than he had in a long time.

“ I’ve never seen Casablanca.”

At that confession, Bucky pushes away from her a little so he can properly look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“ What? It’s a classic. I have good reasons for not having seen most of your movie recommendations, what’s your excuse? “

She smiles bashfully and shrugs her shoulders “ I really don’t know. I just never got around to it. I feel like it’s such an important movie, it asks for a special occasion. Like seeing it at some fancy cinema or in concert or something. You know? “

Bucky only chuckles before pulling her close for another soft sway around the balcony.

Only the serenity doesn’t last very long as the aggressive drumming of some EDM song penetrates the quiet and Sam steps out onto the balcony.

“ Hi guys, uh — am I interrupting something ?”

“ No, no. That’s alright” (Y/N) exclaims, sounding a little flustered as she pulls away from Bucky and presses pause on her phone, plunging them all in silence.

“ I’m gonna get going in a moment. Need to catch an early flight tomorrow morning. “

“ Aw, so soon? Well okay but it was so nice to meet you Sam. You’re welcome at any future party or just drop in at the diner whenever you’re around.” (Y/N) says and pulls him into a hug.

“ I will don’t worry. Told you, I like you already.”

They share another quick hug before (Y/N) excuses herself to get Sam’s jacket from another room, leaving Sam and Bucky alone on the balcony.

“ Do not say a word!” Bucky orders as he notices yet another grin forming on Sam’s face.

“ I didn’t say anything.”

“ But you want to. I can see it.”

“ What would I possibly say, Buck? That you’ve got it bad? You know that yourself. “

“ It’s not like that.”

“ Okay, if you say so. “ Sam complies and lets another silence fall over them.

That’s until he speaks up yet again “ You dance. Man, I can’t believe it. Hey, can you waltz?”

“ Shut up! “

The party is slowly but surely winding down. A lot of people have left by now.

Some are asleep on the couch. On the floor. Against the wall.

A few are still lingering around, talking in low voices. Slurred words, tired eyes, light hearts.

Bucky tries not to step on anyone as he maneuvers his way around the apartment, trying to find the room where (Y/N) put all the jackets. It’s time for him to go, no matter how much he wants to hold onto the moment. He’s tired and the party is as good as over. And anyway, he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in a while.

“ Psst, Grumpy“

(Y/N) peeks out from behind a door, beckoning him closer. As he steps into the room he’s embraced by a warm amber glow coming from a string of fairy lights that frame one wall.

On her bed, (Y/N) sits and leans against the headboard, balancing a laptop on her legs. The wall behind her is covered in photographs. Some of her, some of people he doesn’t know. There are pictures taken at concerts, theme parks, the beach. She’s smiling in most of them. Happy. Memories of a lifetime forever caught on film.

This, Bucky realizes then, is something he wants. Not right now but eventually. To make memories. Ones that last. Ones that don’t get taken away from him. And someone to make those memories with him.

“ Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” Bucky asks as she pats the blanket and he sits down on the bed next to her.

“ I’ve been looking for this movie and I finally found a decent copy we can watch.”

“ Now? “

“ Yes now. It’s supposed to be a really good one. I think you’ll like it. “

Bucky’s tired. He honestly just wants to go home and try to find at least a few hours of sleep. But she does it again, that thing where she smiles and his heart does the weird fluttery thing. And he can’t say no to that. Why would he ever want to say no to that?

So he scoots backward to rest against the headboard as well and his eyes take in the swirly white font on the screen spelling out Casablanca over the black and white image of a map of Africa.

His smile won’t be suppressed anymore. It takes over his face like it belongs right there.

"Thought you were waiting for a special occasion?"

“ I was and I found it. Now, what’s the romantic lesson I can learn from this one? “ (Y/N) asks as her head comes to rest on his right shoulder.

Bucky considers it for a moment, tries to recall exactly what happens. Some details are fuzzy, some lost altogether. But he remembers the core of it all. The love shared between two people.

“ It is about sacrificing the thing you want most in life to make sure the people you love are safe and happy. It’s about putting the one you love above yourself and breaking your own heart in order to keep theirs from breaking. Love is selfless, never selfish. And love is worth it. I think that’s what it’s about. “

“ That’s a lovely sentiment. But so sad too.”

Bucky only nods in agreement and as the title credits roll he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to really figure out love. To fall for someone and love them so much he’d give up everything to see them happy. Even himself.

Though they call it the city that never sleeps, New York seems to grow tired. It grows calm and quiet and maybe for a second it falls into a slumber in the same way that both Bucky and (Y/N) fall asleep, cuddled up on her bed, while Ingrid Bergman flies away on a plane and Humphry Bogard walks into the black of night.

Bucky hasn’t slept in a bed in months in fear of nightmares and terrors lurking in the dark corner of his mind.

That night he doesn’t have nightmares. In fact that night he dreams. Of slow dancing on a balcony with only the stars bearing witness to the moment. He dreams of red slippers and fairy lights and black and white movies.

That night he doesn’t have nightmares. Only sweet dreams.

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynzierulez // @je-like-you // @dracoxxyoflam // @jackiehollanderr // @majo240820 // @kay-gilles // @booksb4looksstuff // @jckie94 // @charmed-asylum // @shawnie--jo // @yllwtaxi // @tailsoflightning //@giuliarogers

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 2

I promise I’m not this fast at writing, I’ve just had the first few chapters laying around for a while lmao. Reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje 

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Chapter 2: u guys r moding my night :(

There was chaos in the Wayne Manor. This was nothing unusual, of course, and today it even seemed to be surprisingly tame. But it was chaos nonetheless.

Timothy Drake-Wayne careened down the spiral staircase, catching himself with a well-timed front flip handspring, and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Alfred briefly paused to look up from where he was preparing dough for a batch of homemade pasta, then offered the boy a smile and a greeting.

“Good evening, Master Drake. Dinner won’t be ready for another half-hour, I’m afraid.” Tim had opened his mouth to reply when a growl echoed from the nearby ballroom.

Jason Todd-Wayne sprinted into the kitchen brandishing a nerf gun. “There you are, replacement. You won’t get away with beating me this time.” He pulled back the reloader of the play-gun, making a threatening click ring through the kitchen.

“I’m afraid you are both late to the party,” Alfred calmly announced as he mixed ingredients together. “Miss Cain has been here for the past five minutes.”

Cass Cain-Wayne indeed poked her head out from where she had been perched beneath the bar. She gave her brothers a shit-eating grin and wiggled her fingers as way of a cheeky greeting.

Tim gave a groan as he and Jason begrudgingly handed some money over to their sister. “She cheats.” Cass stuck her tongue out at that. “Besides, racing you here was just an excuse to get my mind off waiting for midnight.”

“And because Alfred is the only one polite enough to actually listen to you rave about that stupid game,” Jason scoffed, sitting down at the bar to watch Alfred work.

“--thought I heard voices in the kitchen, oh there you are, little wing!” Dick Grayson-Wayne’s cheery voice came from the foyer, increasing in pitch as he spotted Jason and swept him up into a tight hug.

Barbara Gordon wheeled herself in not too long after, chuckling at the squirming Jason and delighted older brother.

Meanwhile Tim, who had taken offense to Jason’s insinuation, was reassuring Alfred that if he wanted the boys to leave him be he only ever had to ask. “It’s just that I’m so excited for the launch tonight, and you know B is too busy to hear about it.”

Jason had finally muscled his way out of Dick’s embrace as the latter’s attention focused on his youngest brother. “What launch are you talking about?” Dick asked, giving Cass a side hug.

“Oh, tonight is the release of this new VRMMORPG game called Mindscape!” Tim practically bounced as Dick came over to give him his hug too.

Dick gave Barbara a confused glance. “I know some of those words,” he nodded slowly. “So what’s got you so excited? Video games come out all the time.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Jason on the barstools. “Well yeah, but this game has groundbreaking virtual reality tech. Supposedly, the textures took five years and a team of almost 1000 artists.”

Jason put Tim into a headlock and said casually, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard replacement talking about this yet. He kinda won’t shut up about it.”

Cass nodded her head in solemn agreement while Tim struggled to get out of Jason’s grasp.

“Such are the woes of moving out.” Dick shrugged. “Sounds crash though, got room for one more?”

Tim finally shoved Jason off. “I actually bought enough passes that we can all play if you want,” he gave each of his siblings the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

Barbara snorted even as Dick pumped his fist in the air beside her. She wheeled herself up to the bar to pinch Jason, who was poised to jab his fingers into Tim’s sides. Jason yelped and glared at her as she said, “Sorry Timmy, I’d rather let someone else be the guinea pig for this new kind of tech. Besides, Dad will worry if I let myself get sucked into pouring too many hours into this.”

“Papa Gordon is a force to be reckoned with,” Dick attested earnestly. “Jay?” he prompted.

“Absolutely not,” Jason answered immediately. Tim was quick to protest. “But why? We could spend more time together! It’ll be good team-building.” Jason’s face soured at that.

Dick leaned in and stage-whispered, “Do I have to tell B to force you into family bonding? You know he’ll make you do it.”

Cass covered her silently laughing mouth with one hand as Jason threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, don’t get Bruce involved. I’ll play your stupid game,” he finally relented. Tim grinned at his win, then cast a hopeful look at Cass.

She pulled a face and signed No thank you. Better things to do than watch VR pornos.

Tim’s face blushed profusely as he opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Jason’s cackling. Even Alfred cracked a smile while he rolled the dough onto the ravioli press.

Once Jason quieted down, Tim crossed his arms and said, “Suit yourself. Looks like it’ll be no-girls-allowed anyway.”

“Guess we’d better tell Cassie that, Timbo,” Dick wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which Tim elected to ignore.

“Speaking of suits,” Alfred said while seamlessly spreading filling in the ravioli and placing another sheet on top of the press, “aren’t you boys going to miss the premiere if it is indeed at midnight?”

Tim looked imploringly at the two girls. “You wouldn’t be willing to trade shifts for your favorite brother, would you?”

* * *

Wally West strolled out of the zeta tube and into the Justice League’s satellite, known to himself and the other heroes as The Watchtower. He was dressed in a casual NASA t-shirt and jeans, slurping a smoothie, and playing a game on his phone.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up. He was greeted with the sight of his old team, Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian, Rocket, Zatanna, and Artemis, waiting impatiently. They were dressed in full hero attire-- he didn’t even realize Artemis still had her costume-- and looked to him expectantly.

“Hey guys, what’s poppin’?” Wally grinned and gave his friends a lazy chin jerk.

“‘What’s poppin’?’ Babe, are you serious? You told us to meet here ASAP for an emergency. So you can tell us what exactly is ‘poppin’.” Ah yes, his Spitfire. Artemis Crock still wasn’t afraid to give him a piece of her mind. But this time it looked like everyone else was on her side too, as they nodded in agreement with her emphatic air quotes.

“Oh, uh yeah, Mindscape is coming out tonight!” He set his smoothie down on the table. “I got us all passes and I’m super stoked for the launch. It’s got this super cool new VR tech that’s basically being released for the first time ever. I got the equipment through my internship, so we’re all set! You guys are totally coming right?” He made finger guns at his increasingly exasperated friends.

Artemis facepalmed. Kaldur’ahm raised his eyebrows in that I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say it way of his and said, “Wally, with you and Artemis retired from the life, understand that we took this to be a literal emergency and rushed to your aid. Do not abuse our good intentions.”

“Seriously West, I have a lot on my plate right now!” Rochelle Ervin was also, apparently, a little upset with him. “You could’ve said it was about a dumb game.”

The speedster tried to do damage control with some lighthearted humor. “Hey guys, stay whelmed. I get it, I probably should have given a few more deets about this very-much-not-dumb game, but do you know how many candy bars I had to eat to win these passes?”

“This is why you’ve been spending so much on junk food?” Oh, he was in big trouble with Artemis now. “You probably didn’t have to eat all of them, babe.”

M’gann M’orzz, Connor Kent, and Zatanna Zatara looked similarly annoyed. Well, the girls did. Connor just looked like his usual brand of annoyed, which was honestly a small victory.

“So...” Wally felt a little sheepish now, “who wants in?”

The rest of the group exchanged a look. Artemis was the first to speak up. “Well, you’ve already invested too much of our money in this to turn back now.” She walked up to him and poked a finger at his chest. “But you owe me so many dinners for this.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal!”

Rochelle spoke up next. “Me and my plate don’t need any more helpings, thank you very much. I’ll see y’all at the next team reunion!” She flew out through the zeta tube.

Kaldur clapped him on the shoulder. “If you need any assistance, I will be there. But for now I am running Atlantis in Aquaman’s stead while he is off-world, and I must return to my duties.” He then bid the rest of the team farewell and stepped through the zeta tube.

“Haha, he said ‘duties.’” Wally said once he’d left, then winced as Artemis smacked his arm lightly. Lightly for her. Rubbing his arm, he looked imploringly at his other friends.

M’gann and Conner looked deep in a telepathic conversation, which was just awkwardly intense eye contact for onlookers. Zatanna crossed her arms and sighed, “Fine, why not. I didn’t have plans for the weekend anyway. Lead the way to your chocolate factory, Charlie.”

Connor, having caught the tail end of the conversation, looked confused at the reference. He shrugged and said, “I’m in, could be fun.”

M’gann gave her friends an apologetic smile. “Sorry guys, my uncle needs help back on Mars. There’s tensions between the white and green martians again, and he really needs me there to get it under control.”

She gave Connor a peck on the cheek and left to board the nearby Bioship.

“And then there were four,” Wally said with a smile. “Now let’s go make you guys some avatars!”

* * *

Bart Allen could hardly contain his excitement. Scratch that, he couldn’t contain his excitement! “Bouncing off the walls” may be an exaggeration for most people, but he was not most people. Being the grandson of The Flash certainly had its perks, and being able to literally bounce off the walls was one of them.

The cause of his excitement, his friends Timothy Drake-Wayne and Wally West, had just called to ask if Bart wanted extra passes to the premiere of the biggest video game of the decade. And uh, yeah duh he wanted them! He already had one he’d bought for himself, but bringing four extra friends? So totally crash.

He opened up his phone and pulled up the group chat titled Badass Babes.

CrashBandicoot: hey bitchez n babez (u kno who u r), u ready 4 the best videogame of the yr to drop?!

BlueMenace: ese, do you HAVE to type like that?

WonderBabe: yea it’s super annoying

CrashBandicoot: gtta go fast babez

CrashBandicoot: now answer the question

GreenMenace: oh i heard about that! mindscape, right? isn’t it some vr game

CrashBandicoot: yes! nd i got extra tix, so come ovr to cave

GirlBoss: No can do, got research tomorrow!

MaleWife: you always have research bae. sorry little speedster, gotta drive the lady to work

CrashBandicoot: u guys r moding my night :(

BlueMenace: totally not a word but I’ve got you cariño, be there in an hour

WonderBabe: ah what the heck, I’ve got nothing better to do

GreenMenace: always down to whoop ur ass in video games

CrashBandicoot: u wish

CrashBandicoot: roy?

Ginger1 is typing...

WonderBabe: it’ll be fun! more ~mingling~ with kids our age

Ginger2: Hold on, give him some time

Ginger1 is typing...

BlueMenace: Roy, I can pick you up on my way in if you want

Ginger1 has stopped typing.

Ginger2: Um, he says he’ll meet you guys there

Ginger2: He may have destroyed his phone with his “non-typing” hand

GreenMenace: pog

WonderBabe: see u guys soon!

Bart pumped his fist, then ran at top speed to his boyfriend Jaime’s house, where it looked like he was doing homework. Seriously, on a Friday night? Bart had absolutely no qualms about whisking him into his arms and making for the nearest zeta tube.

“Woah Bart, I said I needed an hour!” Jaime protested.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you definitely don’t have anything due tonight, and we have to make your character online before the launch!”

Jaime just looked resigned as they sped into the zeta tube. He knew what he had signed up for.

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 3,079)

--------------------  

Part Six: Karl

This server is kind of weird. He’s only been here a few days, but he can already tell that much.

He likes it, of course. He wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t. He does like it, and there’s a few old friends here already—Sapnap, just to name one—and a few people that he thinks he’s going to become friends with very, very quickly. He’s even already working on building a pizza place, which is pretty neat. A lot of the land around here seems to be kind of a free-for-all. Except for the stuff in—what was it, L’Manberg? Which he has not been allowed to join, but it’s no real skin off his back. Other than that, though, there aren’t a whole lot of rules here. No stealing, no griefing, no going to the End. He’s cool with those.

But still. The place is kind of weird. He can’t describe it any way more specific than a vibe. A general, handwavey type of weirdness. Maybe it’s the people. A lot of the people he’s met have been a little weird. A good kind of weird, maybe, but still weird. Like that Wilbur guy, the president of L’Manberg. Very intense. A good talker, and fairly friendly, even if he didn’t let him join his country, but very intense. Or like Eret, who speaks with an odd kind of gravitas, phrasing things just so slightly more formal than the usual. Or like that guy who was pretty much naked. Quackity, he thinks. He seems like an interesting guy to get to know.

And then there’s this kid. TommyInnit.

“I need a favor,” Tommy says, apropos of absolutely nothing.

Karl’s just messing around with the pizza place for the moment. They’ve only got the foundations built so far, but Eret and Punz have both offered their help, and he’s looking forward to getting the place off the ground. Every server ought to have a pizza place, because pizza is the superior food choice. But he wasn’t expecting Tommy to come over to him, much less start off the conversation like that, and he’s feeling a little bit caught off guard.

What he knows about the kid doesn’t amount to all that much. From what he’s gathered, he’s loud, a little irritating, and a bit of a con artist. Not too weird on the exterior, but this? Right now? Is definitely a little weird, if only because the guy’s just marched up to him and asked him for a favor despite the fact that he’s only known him for about three days, tops. Which, he’s happy to see what he can do. The kid seems fine enough. But it’s weird that he’s asking him, specifically, for something, right? Instead of one of his friends? Of which he seems to have many?

“Um, that probably depends on what it is, but sure, I guess,” he says.

Tommy nods. He’s staring at him with some of that same intensity that Wilbur hit him with when they met. Which he supposes makes sense if they’re brothers, like he’s heard, even though Tommy didn’t present any of this attitude when they first talked. But then, first impressions aren’t always accurate.

“It shouldn’t be a big deal, I don’t think,” Tommy says. “I just need you to ask someone something for me. Simple, yeah?”

Again, he wonders why Tommy is coming to him with this. But he shrugs, leaning against the partial wall he’s gotten built. “It still depends on who and what, but I can do that. What do you want me to ask?”

Tommy stands straighter. “You know BadBoyHalo and Skeppy, yeah?” he asks, and Karl—still can’t see where he’s going with this.

“I know Bad and Skeppy,” he confirms, raising his eyebrows. Tommy takes that as a cue to continue.

“I need you to persuade them not to build somewhere,” he says. “Can you do that?”

“Probably,” he says. He’s hedging a little, but he thinks he’s justified. Tommy seems to be dancing around something here, and he’s not sure he likes that. “What exactly do you want me to say?”

“There’s a little bit of land over near” —Tommy scrunches his nose— “near Punz’s, I think—or, wait, is that—I don’t know if he’s—actually, it might be closer to Fundy’s? I can’t remember if—” He breaks off for a second, narrowing his eyes, looking away. But then, he looks back. “Nevermind. It’s not in L’Manberg. There’s a few little lakes and shit. Past where Purpled’s UFO is. You know where I’m talking about?”

“Um.” He tries to picture the area and comes up with a hazy approximation. “Maybe?”

“Alright, fine. Look, I’ll show you on a map if I have to. But the point is, I need you to talk to Bad and Skeppy, and I need you to get them to promise that they won’t build in that area. No building, no digging, no nothing. Skeppy’s gonna want to build a house to the north, and that—that’s fine. They can build wherever else they like, but that spot up there, that’s a no-go, alright? No one can dig around there, but mostly them.”

This is definitely weird.

“Can I ask why?” he says. “You’re not out to get them, are you? Or is L’Manberg planning to expand up there or something?”

“What?” Tommy says. “What the fuck are you on about? No, I’m not—I’m not out to get them. That’s fucking stupid.”

He holds up his hands. “Well, I had to be sure,” he says. “I’ve only been here a few days, I don’t know who likes who around here.” He pauses. “So, the expansion—”

Not that he really cares what L’Manberg does or where they spread the borders of their land. He may not be allowed to join them, but he supposes he’s not officially with the Greater SMP either. He hasn’t been here nearly long enough to commit himself to a side, especially when there doesn’t appear to be any kind of pressing conflict going on anymore. But if he’s going to argue Tommy’s case to some of his friends—and why Tommy has picked him for this task, he still has no idea—then he’d like to know exactly what he’s arguing for, and why.

But Tommy shakes his head. “No expansion,” he says. “Nothing like that. It’s just—look, man, it’s just bad land. Terrible land. It’s got—it’s got radiation, it has. So no one should go there, literally ever.” He waves his hands as he speaks, gesticulating emphatically.

Karl’s not sure he believes a word of this. But at the same time, he seems so earnest about it, or at least, about the part where it’s bad land, that it could hurt people. Maybe not the radiation bit.

“That sounds really dangerous,” he says, and watches for what the reaction will be, trying to get a feel for what exactly the catch is, here. “Shouldn’t we tell more people about this?”

Tommy jerks, and his eyes go wide. “No!” he says, definitely with far more force than should be necessary for a fairly innocent question. But it’s not really the force of someone caught in a lie and trying to cover his tracks. Nothing like that—he just sort of seems scared. “No, definitely not. It’s not—it’s not dangerous to walk on or anything. Just if you dig down. The—the radiation’s coming from under the ground. So as long as no one digs, or builds their home right there, it should be alright, yeah? Just, just tell them not to go poking around there, man.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, and raises his hands again, placating. “Sure, I can tell them. I honestly don’t know if they were planning to go up there in the first place. Uh, can I ask why them specifically?”

“No,” Tommy says, and does not elaborate at all, despite the obvious invitation to do so. The expectation, even. Which feels a little weird in and of itself, considering that from what he can tell, Tommy does enjoy talking. But nothing else is forthcoming, so he shifts his feet, clearing his throat.

“Okay then,” he says. “Okay. Look, I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try my best. I’ll even go with a different story than the radiation, if you want. I mean, Skeppy might want to check something like that out, you know? But as long as this isn’t some sort of plot to hurt them, I’m cool with it.”

“There’s no story,” Tommy mutters, and kicks his shoe against the ground. “‘S radiation.” He doesn’t even look like he believes himself, at this point, but he does look a little pathetic, and he’s got some big, sad cow eyes going on. Karl’s not sure whether they’re natural or just him putting on an act. But he figures it couldn’t hurt to throw the kid a bone, whatever he’s trying to accomplish with this. And even besides, maybe it would be beneficial to be in the guy’s good graces. He already has friends here, but a few more couldn’t hurt, since this server is so incredibly weird.

Weirdness can be dangerous, sometimes. He hasn’t decided yet whether this server is or not. Dangerous, that is.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and Tommy’s face melts into open relief when he doesn’t press further. There’s still something about this he wants to know, though, so he presses forward. “Um, but if you don’t mind my asking, why are you getting me to do this? Why not someone like Sapnap?”

He thinks it’s a good question. Sapnap is, after all, their literal son. So even though he knows them pretty well, considers them friends, if anyone’s going to convince them to do something, it’s Sapnap.

But Tommy just shakes his head, narrowing his eyes like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

“Karl, pal, I know you’re new on this server,” he says, “but us over there in L’Manberg just fought a whole war against Dream and his groupies. Groupies that just so happen to include a certain pet-killing, fire-starting arsehole. No offense,” he adds belatedly, to which Karl just stares. “So you know, if I were to go to Sapnap myself, or even straight to Bad and Skeppy, they’d assume, and they’d be incorrect, mind you, but they’d assume that I have some sort of scheme in mind. A little plot, if you will. And I don’t. I’ve told you that, and I’m being honest with you. But if they don’t believe me, then that kind of defeats the whole purpose of warning them off, now, doesn’t it? So I thought to myself, well, maybe my buddy Karl could succeed where I wouldn’t be able to.”

He finds his lips twitching into a smile. The kid’s definitely a con artist in the making.

“Okay, you’ve sold me,” he says. “I’ll do my best to keep them away.” He pauses. “I’ve got a condition, though.”

Tommy goes still. “Yeah?” he asks, and it’s back to the tension, back to the intensity, and Karl almost regrets it. It’s strange, how quickly the kid goes back and forth between appearing to be exactly what he is on the surface—a kid—and seeming far, far older than that. “What’s that?”

“When you’re finished with whatever you’re working on up there, I wanna see it,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Tommy has some sort of secret project, one that he doesn’t want anyone else to stumble upon. Sounds like it could be a good time.

Tommy blinks. For a long moment, he is silent. And then his mouth twists into a grin, one that drags like a sharp line across his face and doesn’t really look like a smile at all.

“Sure,” he says. “The whole server might know by then, I don’t know. But yeah, when I’m done, you can come see, Karl.”

For some reason, the kid sounds like he’s pronouncing a death sentence. Which Karl is not going to examine too closely.

“Cool,” he says, and isn’t sure where else to go with this. “Uh, do you wanna hang out for a little while? Or—?” He trails off. The invitation is honest; he certainly wouldn’t mind spending time with him. But the vibes continue to be weird, and honestly, he would be surprised if Tommy took him up on it. He’s fidgeting like he’s got places to be.

And sure enough, Tommy shakes his head again.

“Nah,” he says. “Got places to go, women to see. You know how it is. See you around, Karl.”

And he turns to go. Karl decides to watch him until he’s out of sight, just in case, which makes it a little awkward when Tommy stops after about three paces.

“Actually,” he says, “do you mind if I ask you something else?”

“Go for it,” he replies.

Tommy hesitates. His hands clench and unclench, and his mouth opens and closes a couple of times. Struggling with himself, with whatever he’s about to say, and Karl waits. Patiently, he thinks, even though patience is not one of his strong suits. If ever there was a time to apply a bit of patience, it’s probably now; he has the sneaking suspicion that if he says anything to prompt him, Tommy will simply turn and leave without saying anything else at all.

“How do you do it?” Tommy asks, and his voice is different. Flatter, more tired. Does this kid sleep? “The whole—” He makes a broad gesture, which doesn’t clarify anything at all.

“The whole—?” he says, once it becomes obvious that Tommy is actually expecting some kind of answer to that.

Tommy makes a frustrated sound. “I mean, I don’t wanna spell it out,” he says, even though Karl is of the opinion that is what this situation needs, actually. “But the whole, the whole—look, I know, alright? We had—we found one of your books.” His voice cracks, and Karl feels increasingly out of his depth here. It’s almost like they’re having two entirely different conversations, because he has absolutely no clue what’s going on now. “So I know. And I get it if you—if you don’t want to talk about it. But it’s so—it’s just so fucking much, and I feel like there’s too much to keep straight, and there’s so much to do to make things right but half the time I’ve got no idea what my next move needs to be, and it’s—it’s just hard, man. So how do you—how do you keep it all together? I’ve tried writing some shit down, but it’s not helping all that much.”

“Uh,” he says. He doesn’t know what to do with that. This feels like an incredibly personal question, and he’s not even sure what the question is, he thinks. Is he even the one the kid wants to ask? Is he confused? Because Karl sure feels confused, so that would make two of them. “Huh?”

He tries to think of what book Tommy could be referencing and comes up empty. He likes to write things down, admittedly, places he’s been and people he’s met and stories he’s learned and collected, but he doesn’t have anything on him at the moment. He’d been planning to start afresh here. Maybe build a little library or something. Nothing too fancy.

“You know,” Tommy says, insistent, and he shakes his head.

“I really don’t,” he says. “I’m—look, I’m really sorry, but maybe you’ve got me mixed up with somebody. I’ve only been here a few days, and I haven’t really gotten to write anything down yet. Sorry, man, I don’t think I can help you.”

“But you—” Tommy starts, and then stops. He takes a few steps closer, and Karl has to resist the sudden urge to match him step for step, to move backward. There is a light in this kid’s eyes that he can’t place, one that’s almost like—something. Something that shouldn’t be, and he doesn’t have the words to describe it in any other way than that. But then, Tommy leans in, scanning his face, and makes a startled sound. “Oh, shit. You’ve got no fucking clue what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t,” he agrees, and wonders why that makes Tommy look like he wants to vomit. The light is gone, and he finds himself relaxing marginally.

“Oh fuck,” Tommy says, and steps back again, running his hand through his hair. His eyes are wide. “Ohhhh fuck. Fuck, shit, I—I’m too early.” He says the last in a whisper, as if to himself, and then repeats it: “I’m too early.” And Karl watches in horrified fascination as the kid visibly gathers himself, taking all of his emotions and stuffing them away somewhere in what is the most impressive display of repression he’s ever seen from someone under the age of eighteen.

“Are you—good?” he asks, because he’s confused, but he’s not a monster. Tommy’s obviously dealing with something here, and maybe that something is far out of his wheelhouse, but if he’s equipped to help, he will.

But Tommy backs up another few steps, pasting on a smile that shakes and wavers.

“No, no, I’m good,” he says. “Just, just forget about all of that, yeah? You’re right, I got you mixed up with someone. Happens all the time, since I’m so incredibly popular. So I’ll just—I’m just going to go, now. Sorry to bother you, Karl.” And then, he waves, a sad, pathetic motion, and stalks off, his steps quick and rushed. It’s a retreat. Karl would go so far as to say that he’s fleeing.

“You’re not a bother,” he says, but the kid’s already out of earshot. So he goes with his original plan and stares after him until the splash of red and white is nothing more than a dot in the distance.

He looks back to the foundation of his building. His first mark on the server. For a second, he feels so discomfited that he considers calling it a day and going home. But then, he shrugs it off. In the end, it’s a whole lot of not-his-business.

Though he hopes that whatever Tommy’s grappling with, he manages to get through it. He seems like a good kid.

[brazenautomaton]

Fixing Afterlives: Bastion, Pt. 1

As it is, Bastion doesn’t work. The Forsworn don’t just have a point, they are obviously, objectively correct. Kyrian discard all their memories and attachments in a way that is horrifying, in order to perform a job that a robot could do, in order to aspire to be something lame and boring. There is nothing cool about what they do and nothing good either; every single time they tell you about what they do it’s supposed to make you sad, not proud. A little of that is fine, it’s Death. But come on. The anima diverter daily for Bastion is a test where you judge if souls should pass on or not, and on WoWHead, the adequate summary of the right answers is “If one of the answers seems more evil or horrible, that’s the one you pick.”

In fact, Bastion can’t work as it is right now, because of Maldraxxus. The Maldraxxi are the defenders of the Shadowlands, right? So all the courage and martial prowess and avenging angel-ness Bastion wants to have cannot be what they are About, the presentation wants them to be glorious and valorous warriors but they don’t have to fight anyone. And the presentation wants them to be wise and impartial but their job requires no discretion, they’re ghost UPS. They can’t be About anything cool, and to be wise and impartial, they can’t be DOING anything at all!

So here’s the fix to their concept: Maldraxxus is the afterlife of warriors, the endless skeleton war, the unending conflict where there are always an infinite supply of fighters willing to leap to the defense of the Shadowlands. Maldraxxus is the Shadowlands’ defensive team. Bastion is the offense.

Bastion does not engage in army-against-army conflict, they have individual heroes. And they are out there in the mortal world, invisibly, serving as guardian angels, inspiring as muses, fighting invisible forces, tipping the scales of Fate to have the right outcomes. Fighting extra-dimensional beasts who prey on the mortal realm to invisibly protect them, fighting down incarnate ideas of malice and ruin, but also influencing things directly or by subconscious example. Every Spirit Healer is from Bastion and they are the ones who decided “your time is not yet up”. When we get really lucky to allow ourselves to triumph over the Legion or the Scourge, it’s because Bastion was ensuring it happened, fighting for us. Bastion is supposed to be affecting things out there, making things turn out Right, instead of being powerless observers. They are the muses of artists and the muses of battle. They inspire. They lead, invisibly.

That’s why they need to be wise and free of bias -- you cannot favor one side of mortals over the other. Mortal beings need to beat the Scourge, but the Horde does not need to triumph over the Alliance and vice versa. Your job is not to punish mortals for being bad, you damn well need to be boosting both sides when there are champions and the valorous in both. You cannot go out there and say “these Orcs up here in Redridge are all evil and shit and the Alliance deserves the win so I’m just gonna go all in on defending them,” that’s not how it works, you reward individual valorous efforts on both sides. How Fate Should Go does not include taking sides in purely mortal conflicts.

So obviously you cannot be biased. You are something Beyond the mortal realm which means you can’t take sides. You actually do have to discard these attachments, and while we’re here, we need to actually make that process empowering. Right now all it does is show you “hey, happy memories, well, fuck you, gotta get rid of them.” Make more than zero effort to make this make sense. Show the aspirant in pain and yearning because of those memories and the fact they can’t come back. Don’t make them forget who they were, make them become at peace and move on.

Now obviously that won’t be convincing to everyone. And that’s fine. It just means there’s some ambiguity instead of the Forsworn being obviously right about everything.

There are four races/types in Bastion: Kyrian, Forsworn Kyrian, Stewards, and Constructs. Only two are represented in Soulbinds: you have two Kyrian and a Steward. 

Kyrian are the expression of what Bastion IS, so we already covered their changes.

Constructs are anima robots. Why are there anima robots here? It’s really bad in the current version because the Kyrian job can be done by a robot so why not just make them do it? Instead, we take that idea and we make it About something: these machines aren’t Constructs, they are Principles. A Principle is a robot made of rules and ideals, the things that are thought by mortals but bigger than any mortal. Codes of honor and ideas that work beyond any of us as individuals. There, that’s it, that change of presentation is all you need to do to justify why robots are there. The changes to Bastion’s fundamentals are what makes them fit in.

Stewards are creepy. Really creepy. They serve the same role as dredgers, but the fact that dredgers bitch and moan and complain all the time lets us see them as individuals with goals and not creepy brainwashed victims. A dredger isn’t a slave, they are a worker; but work sucks and they wanna be at the pub. A steward, with one exception (Forgelite Prime Mikanikos who is busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest and also by far the best Bastion character) appears to have no personality and is a brainwashed slave. 

So, first off, make it clearer that they are helpful because they are The Desire To Aid, that’s the thing they’re About. With the way they speak and act, I think what they are supposed to be in story terms is lightly comic relief, also similar in role to Dredgers but with opposite implementation. The creepiness and one-dimensionality make this fail, all their hoots and hoos and silly talk isn’t funny. They need to be cheesier. They need to be 90’s Saturday morning cartoon sidekicks. They need to be a (much) less obnoxious version of Snarf.

They need to tell awful, awful dad jokes. Just the worst. The kind that are so bad they loop back around to funny again but you’re still groaning and they’re just there like “Eh? Eh? Geddit? Geddit?” By doing something that is helpful, that we recognize as an attempt to help and that some Steward characters can explicate to us really does help (it dampens anger and fear because all of your negative emotions are refocused to that HORRIBLE pun), but that clearly NOBODY would brainwash them into doing, now we can trust their helpful efforts are borne of sincere desire and carried out to the best of their ability by their own personal interpretation.

Forsworn Kyrian, right now, are only antagonists. The ideological change of giving up on the law of Bastion makes you turn a darker indigo color scheme (which is actually really good because these are creatures of Beyond, creatures who are on a fundamental physical level About something, their beliefs changing their physical makeup makes sense!) and then become a bad guy. Forsworn are all only antagonists. We’re going to change that. Kleia is going to become Forsworn. And still be a heroic character and your Soulbind, even though this isn’t a game balance thing and so Pelagos will still probably outclass her in every way seriously that Mastery buff is fucking bananas for anyone who cares about Mastery.

Not when you meet her, though. The existing storyline of Bastion is you go there because “hey what the fuck are these Kyrian doing in the Maw serving the Jailer” but in Bastion itself nothing much is happening other than kicking pebbles down the street. You get the intro from Kleia, you go see some very low-importance things, then the Forsworn attack for the first time, and you spend the rest of the zone quest on hold with the Archon’s hotline to tell her “hey there are Forsworn this is a problem”.

Now, when you get there to ask “hey what the fuck”, Kleia is still not doing much more than kicking pebbles down the street, bored off her ass, extremely enthusiastic about someone new so she can DO something. But the Forsworn conflict already exists: it’s just not relevant to her because she stays out of it, figures that it’s above her pay grade, and she hangs out at the Welcome Center which nobody gives a shit about because there’s nobody to get welcomed so it isn’t relevant. She just knows there’s been some discussions. 

We get the anima drought reinforced the first time we enter Bastion because we have to power down the other cores to get enough juice for the greeting machine, but then it isn’t really a good way to sell it because that’s the kind of thing we do all the time even when there’s no shortages of anything, that’s how WoW PCs interact with machines. So we have the player scrounge up anima from the other Principles to power up the greeting machine, and it’s not enough, it runs out of juice halfway through, and Kleia gets embarrassed and tries to finish the rest of the process by reciting it from memory (and not getting it all quite right, which is another chance to show us things about her).

Kleia is excited to have someone to run through the orientation process, and she explains that FIRST there was an anima drought, and then as if that wasn’t bad enough, THEN the Arbiter got conked out and the flow of souls to Bastion stopped. This is important, because in the story as is, the anima drought appears to be completely explained by the flow of souls all going to the Maw, since they are presented at the same time and the flow of souls is the flow of anima. When you find out the drought is because of ol’ Denny hoarding it, you go “wait how does he have any to hoard when it all goes to the Maw?”

So for right now you need to walk the Aspirant’s path to get an audience with the Archon because right now things don’t seem desperate and urgent. You go to Aspirant’s Rest and get the flight point, and you go to meet Kleia’s soulbind, Pelagos. Two things need to change right here.

One: something more needs to be happening here than “Pelagos was a dipshit and tried ascending alone despite that being not how it works at all, go in there and fight the monsters,” so do something instead of almost-nothing.

Two: Loath as I am to say something actually needs less representation compared to its original, Pelagos can’t be transgender. You find out later on, in the Kyrian covenant quest line maybe? That Pelagos’s mortal body was a woman, but his true spirit is a man. That’s great, that’s something that should come up. The problem is, Pelagos is also the fuck-up, the one we see fail all the time so he can (ostensibly) show resolve and get back up again. But Blizz didn’t show barely any details about Pelagos’s life for fear of backlash -- we don’t even know who played him -- and whether or not it is valid or invalid or that was a cover to avoid admitting this was to not offend China, Blizzard still won’t DO it. So we have this character who is battling this doubt and failure in his past but we’re not allowed to know what they are. Pelagos is cisgender so we can go into detail about what he fucked up. Kleia might be trans instead (why she is so gung-ho about Ascension), or we can have Kleia sell the Ascension process as good by mentioning that the Paragon of Wisdom, Thenios, was born a woman in life but Ascension made him into a true ideal. This can also justify a bit more screen time for Thenios and then something for Tim Russ to do. He was already Tuvok, he doesn’t need more humiliation. But whoever it is, their gender only comes up once and never again because now they’re the right way around and the former body doesn’t matter.

So what’s happening at Aspirant’s Rest? It’s a holding pen for souls. See, as it is now, you find out about the flow of souls into the Maw right away, but then all the way through the main quest and into the Kyrian campaign quest they apparently don’t know, and you don’t tell them, and then it’s a surprise when you finish the quest where you follow the guy in Redridge and have to take him to the Maw, and that’s dumb, they should know, you should have told them.

So now the Kyrian know that everyone is default-judged to the Maw. And they know this is what has to happen, this is the machinery of fate that drives the universe, but they are compassionate and know these souls do not deserve it. So they’re scamming as much as they can. Whenever possible (which they lament is not often enough, not nearly often enough), they find some loophole or corner case to count someone as not ready to be judged, and stick them somewhere in Bastion so they can wait until the Arbiter’s awake again to judge them. They can’t do much, but they can do a little, so they do that.

This guy, okay, you died, BUT, there’s a necromancer just two zones over, and your body is still intact since I dragged it to safety, and, I mean, he’s PROBABLY going to call back your soul and bind it to your body in service, so there’s no point in having you judged, you’re just coming back, right? And you, Night Elf! Okay, you got your head blown off, but, remember that angelic voice shouting “NIGHTELVESEVOLVEDFROMTROLLS!” a moment before your demise? And you know, Trolls who worship Bwonsamdi go straight to De Otha Side without being judged. Maybe you would have wanted to pledge yourself to older gods, but you never got the chance to make that decision, so, hey, you know, it would only be right to let you make that choice before you are given your judgment! And you, guy, did you know that all those patrons from the Slaughtered Lamb across the street who came into your business were warlocks? Yup, all of them, and they didn’t wash their hands either. Fel contamination. Can’t, ooh, you know, hey, might be a demonic stain on your soul, demons don’t have an afterlife like us, gotta be reborn in the Twisting Nether! Going to have to consult some demons to figure out where you go. Better wait here.

Aspirant’s Rest and the temple beneath are a soul refugee camp, and the souls within are scared and angry and don’t know what is going on and the Kyrian can’t explain it or they will all completely flip out. The Kyrian are trying as hard as they can in the limitations they have and this sells it. 

Pelagos is down there. The risk is not that he will be killed -- he is not mortal, he does not die -- the risk is that his well-meaning attempts to keep things calm might ignite the powder keg down there. And those souls can’t die but they WILL go directly to the Maw if fatally injured, which is why they have to be kept penned where Larion won’t eat them and Principles won’t drag them off. Pelagos fucks up here and you have to fix it but it’s not a suicidally stupid error while doing something that has no relevance to the player, it’s an understandable mistake biting off more than he can chew while doing something the player understands. Player, Kleia, and Pelagos go down to Aspirant’s Crucible to get certified as an Aspirant and get in line to talk to the Archon. 

In the existing story, you go and peer into a memory flame thing and have echoes of your heroic battles drawn forth, and you fight them while a character narrates your heroic deeds. They might be based on what expansions you played in, or might be random? Anyway, in this case, you gaze into the flame of memory, she starts to narrate your heroism, and… nothing. “Ah, there are supposed to be visions conjured here, so you can display your valor against them once again. It… it doesn’t… hang on, I might know what the problem is…”

A voice comes. “Then how about you display your valor against me, champion? A little sparring wouldn’t hurt, and I’m eager to see what you can do.”

It’s Uther, hell yes it’s Uther.

[megthemewlingquim]

How would Adam and the reader meet? Would he tell her he's a vampire right off the bat?

Tortured Artist

Summary: You meet a quiet but kind musician, and you can't help but take a liking to him.

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: the spark of a relationship. Pink Floyd references because I'm trash, language

A/N: My first Adam fic! Let's make it the first many, shall we?

I really love Adam's character, along with Jim Jarmusch's description of him, "Hamlet as played by Syd Barrett". I really understand his character now, even more so than when I first saw the film about a year ago. I also want to thank @gaitwae for helping me find the film again. I watched it while writing, and it helped a lot.

And no, dear anon, he would not tell her right off the bat.

"There's this super cool guy I want you to meet," Ian says enthusiastically as he led you into the dark and silent house.

"It's pitch black in there," you say, stopping at the door steps with your arms folded in front of you. He looks back at you with a sly smile.

"If you're planning on taking me to an abandoned house and scaring me, Ian," you say, warily, "I'll take your car and drive myself home right this instant. You can stay at your 'friend' 's house."

You're serious. You are not the type of person who likes being scared, at all.

"Aw, you really think I'd do that?"

You nod. "You're exactly the type of person to do that. No offense."

"None taken. In any other situation, I would do that. But now... no, there actually is someone in here. His name's Adam." He smiles at you, and it's warm and kind. "I really think you'll like him."

You shift on your feet, saying nothing.

"Hey," Ian says, coming down the stone steps to look you in the eyes. "I promise. I've known this guy for years. He's safe."

You blink. "Okay," you say quietly.

»»——⍟——««

The house is, in fact, occupied. It isn't pitch black in there like you thought — it's just that the lighting in there is so dim that it's barely existent. The house seems suffocating in the narrow hallways. Pictures and some framed album covers hanging on the walls. You recognize a couple of them.

Then, you hear something that gently drives away the silence. The tinkling notes of the higher range of a piano, coming from a room to your right. You and Ian enter.

A man stands at a beautiful black piano, looking down at the keys. He seems lost in thought. His eyes are soft, a stark contrast to his raven black hair, which is matted and wild. However, he does not look untidy and uncomposed. He actually looks quite nice. One thing stands out, however.

He's pale. Deathly pale. You can see it, even in the lighting.

This must be Adam, you think.

As if he's heard you, he looks up at you and Ian.

"Ian," he says dryly, after a second of thought, "who is this?"

You blink in surprise, then turn to Ian. "You didn't tell him you invited me?" you hiss. You turn back to Adam, and apologetically say, "I'm so sorry, he never told me that you weren't expecting me." You begin to walk backward from the open doorway. "I'll show myself out—"

"No need," Adam says, looking at you now. "I'm sorry. My name's Adam. Who are you?" He looks at you now with what could be a smile, maybe the flicker of one.

It's a moment or two before you say your name — the look from him is very intense, but not creepy or menacing. His eyes seem black.

"It's, uh, nice to meet you," Adam says.

"You too," you manage.

"I'm sorry I never told you she was coming," Ian says, making his way over to the couch at the side of the cluttered room. He flops down onto it, lounging against one of the arms. "It was an impulse decision."

"It's fine," says Adam. He turns to you again. "You can uh, sit yourself down, make yourself at home."

"Tha—thank you," you say, sitting on the same couch as Ian. Adam goes to tinker with his wires and records, and he seems lost in thought again. You also realize how incredibly tall he is. He towers over Ian, who towers over you.

"I can tell you're a musician," you say, trying to make friendly conversation with the quiet thinker. "When did you start playing instruments?"

There's a pause, where Adam completely stops what he's doing. He blinks. Then,

"When I was twelve. It was... 1996. I was very much inspired by '94's The Division Bell to start playing bass."

"Floyd," you say, perking up. "Oh, I love Pink Floyd!"

"Do you?" he asks, and there's that smile again. "I mean, who doesn't, though, right?"

"Exactly," says Ian.

"I know," you say dreamily. "They really were something. Animals is definitely my favorite album musically, but The Wall still takes the cake for their best. In my opinion."

"Ah, yes," Adam says, taking out a guitar from a case. It's a beautiful black and white one, electric, very sleek. "The classic tale of the tortured artist. That album comes full circle, you know."

"Isn't this where we came in?" you ask with a smile.

He chuckles at the reference. He raises his knee on an automan, sets the guitar on top it, where it rests firmly and snugly, and strums a chord. It's a soft D major chord. Then, he plays notes separately.

F# D F#, F# D F#, F G F, F G F...

"Brain Damage," you say, thinking out loud. "Dark Side of the Moon. 1973."

"Everybody knows that album," Ian says. "And I mean everybody... it's fuckin' insane how timeless that one is. It's overrated, sure. But timeless. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Adam says softly, but he's not looking at Ian, or at his guitar. He's looking at you.

And his look is softer now. Kinder. His wide eyes... they still look black. He doesn't look nearly as unsettling and mysterious as he once did, though.

A beat.

"Er, sorry." He looks down at his feet, bare against the carpet.

"Quite alright." You smile back at him.

Ian looks back and forth from you to Adam. His eyebrows raise, and he himself rises from the couch.

"I'm, uh, gonna get some water. You want any?"

"No," you and Adam say in unison. You add a "thank you".

And then you two are alone.

"Um..." you start, awkwardly, "what else can you play?"

Adam is currently browsing through his records.

"Piano, drums. Mandolin. Organs." He thinks for a moment. "Violin and viola and cello."

"Such pretty sounds," you say, that passion in your voice again.

He looks up at you from his box on the ground. "Such beauty," he says, his tone agreeing with yours.

You don't see what he's looking at this time.

»»——⍟——««

"Thanks again, Adam," you call out as you walk down the steps, the cold night air biting at your ears. "Listen, I really loved meeting you." You turn your head to look back at him. "I'd love to see you again. Maybe Ian can get me back here next week? If you're available?"

"Sure," he says. You don't see the smile he wears as you and Ian drive off.

[weaselbeaselpants]

That Krispy Cat: A Warning, part 3

The last of the images cause I don’t want this bitch on my computer anymore. 

Knowing tumblr I kept the images hidden JUUUUST in case no one reads the fine print and can’t tell I’m being critical of this and gets me in trouble.

VVV ((Just in case you thought the JewishGriffon piece assured everyone that Crispy couldn’t POSSIBLY hate people of color, some of her earliest Nazi art had her character Klaus beating up Amigo Bear. She also made Amigo into a liberal strawman. )) VVV

((Dialogue to one of her TROLLARIOUS pictures that featured Amigo:

Amigo Bear: *muttering* "Your leader was a !@#$% little #@%^!@$^*!, you fascist feather duster..." General Klaus: "Fräulein, Ich vant you to cover your ears und shut your eyes as tight as you can." Crispy: "How come, General?" General Klaus: "Klaus ist about to say und do very bad sings zhat he does not vant his little Edelweiß to see or hear." Crispy: "Alrighty!" General Klaus: "WHO SAID ZHAT ABOUT DER FÜHRER? WER DIE FICK GESAGT? WHO'S ZUH SCHLEIMIG LITTLE COMMUNIST-SCHEISS SCHWANZLUTSCHER DOWN ZHERE, WHO JUST SIGNED HIS OWN DEATH VARRANT? NIEMAND?! GOTTVERDAMMT STALIN SAID IT! HERVORRAGEND! VHICH VUN OF YOU VANTS TO BE ZUH FIRST TO FIND OUT ZUH HARD VAY VHY MEIN FEINDE CALLED MIR DER BUTCHER BIRD?" ))

^^^ ((BUTOPHERARTISGOODSOYOUCAN’TCOMPLAIN

also the disc. for this pic before it was deleted had a ‘joke’ about cooking Jews in ovens. Oh and yes, that IS Hitler she’s giving that ugly ass cupcake too.))

^^^ (( - Thanks dA I never would have known I had a notifications unless eclipse blah -

This is one of her rants about how #Triggered she is that Starlight be compared to the Nazis when she runs a communist cult. Because A) that’s the real problem here and B) I too get upset when people say my OC is based on Jeffrey Dahmer when he’s so CLEARLY based on Ed Gein, Bwwwaaaah D> D> D> !)) ^^^

VVV ((Ugly art of her friend’s awful OCs.)) ^^^

VVV ((Crispy showing off why no one wants to be a patriot in our country.)) VVV

((FYI, Crisp, that attitude will make the Hamilton fans stronger so just keep that SJW-flinging coming you little SJW.

WHAT?! Social Justice is a broad term and as Crispy’s plainly demonstrated, you can circle it around and make a majority-class sound like the real underprivledged if you have enough fancy frou frou know-how and furries. Also, if a Social Justice Warrior constitutes someone who takes their cause soooo seriously that they’re annoying/petting/cruel/stupid about it....idk I think Crispy qualified.))

^^^ ((Crispy and her friend muse about what other races occupy the world of MLP in her headcanon. This, more than any other dA disc. and picture shows you her brand of “Segregationist-Nationalism is OKAY” thinking, cuz the art of these different races isn’t super offensive or cruel and neither are the characters. BUT if you scratch under the surface you’ll find that Crispy really likes these different people staying in their place and not in “someone else’s” country.

THEN, this same kind of thinking is used to convince you any mix of cultures is just cultural appropriation, again acting like she and her Nazi-stans are the only ones standing up to actual bigotry.)) VVV

^^^ ((Crispy makes the world a worse place by bringing up actual decent points; like how Americans dress Thanksgiving up as progressive and for the natives when we all know that’s not true...all to better her worldview.

fyi, GET OUT whenever you see a selfproclaimed Nazi fawn over Native Americans, because: Nazi Germany had a deep fascination with American Indians and used their struggles about their land being taken away from them to justify their eugenic genocide.)) ^^^

^^^ (( Crispy laughing it up on Furaffinity how she couldn’t be banned from her Furaffinity and then mysteriously never using her site there wowie.)) ^^^

^^^ (( Crispy complaining about SOPA cause her freedom of speech and blahblahblah.

Freedom of Speech is important. Unfortunately what people like Crispy don’t understand or care for is there’s no freedom of consequence. )) vvv

VVV ((LOL Joseph Mengele was such a stinkah let’s tell blithe jokes about him. At least WE AREN’T LIKE HIM!!!)) VVVV

VVV ((Early onset eugenic BS from her Spyro stuff that would be easy to miss if you didn’t know what this woman was talking about)) VVV

((Crispy admitting she thinks gays are pointless cuz they don’t reproduce but apparently loves them anyway. Also big shock Crispy’s seen Hetalia.)) VVV

VVV ((Crispy probably wanting Weeaboos to attack her cuz aren’t Japan’s animations so laaaaaaazy?!!?!? GUUdd think’ I’m a naziaboo! Germany’s never made any shitty animation evah. You know what, I lied. She doesn’t deserve Hetalia. She just doesn’t.)) VVVV

VVV ((Crispy dragging Brazil down with her as the apparent “Best South American Country”. Yikes.)) VVV

VVV ((More “it’s trolling ergo it’s not harmful” shit. Bulgarians probably do deserve their own Care Bears, but they certainly don’t want yours Crispy.)) VVV

VVV ((Disc. for her Richard Spencer bear art)) VVV

------

I know, I know...this isn’t what you wanted to read today, guys. I know it’s offensive and I’m sorry if it made you ill. I also know I’m putting my own blog under fire by showing these images here but I think that should say something about dA’s bad policies that this art gets a filter slapped on it and nothing more when the artist is blatantly pro-fascist.

Crispy resonates with me so much - and no it’s not cause I DARED to be “triggered”.

It’s because, for one, she was talented. I MEAN I HAVE EYES! That’s some nicely drawn digital stuff I’m not gonna deny. She had some cool rewrites and sequel ideas that, had it come from someone else I would have eaten up and faved to hell and back onceupona2012. But I didn’t, where a ton of MLP and furry fans did because they undervalued their own talents and would say “well it’s pretty who cares about the message?” 

Unlike so many commercial+published artists, it’s REALLY hard to separate the art from the artist here because the artist is so connected and a part of her art and storytelling. If you fav her art, even if you didn’t like her, that was telling Crispy she’d won. It’s so defeating to have other artists say their gonna ignore their gut for the sake of prettypretty-Don-Bluth style art. And yes, that stigma DOES affect my view on 2D purists btw.

Crispy was so holier than thou’, and that attitude also was appealing to dA folks, not to mention her knowledge of art history by the time she dropped off the radar. Crispy was the kind of person who’d make long, detailed, justified rants against the design and color choices in Hazbin Hotel and then a bunch of antis would eat her redesigns up only to learn the awful truth later and embarrass themselves cuz they were so taken up by the craft they didn’t know they were reblogging a fucking Nazi.

Not to underplay Viv’s wrongdoings of course, but I’m sorry; the two aren’t comparable on the problematic artist meter. THAT’S HOW BAD CRISPY WAS.

If this somehow was just a faze and she’s come to her senses or doesn’t really think this shite she preaches...I don’t care. She said some vile shit and fuck no I’m not forgiving her. It’s like KenDraw or Shadman. You’ve changed your life around and realized you’ve done/drawn nasty shit that’s done real harm? Cool....I’m still not talking or ever promoting you, ya dingbat. You ain’t no Roman Polanski or Doug Tennaple. You’re a singular internet artist and any support of the project has to go to you - and you suck!

ThisCrispyKat was a wakeup call that showed me these people not only still exist but will be allowed to get away with it. I was very touchy bout this kind of thing back in the day. Fuck, I STILL AM TOUCHY. The rabbit holes I found thanks to Crispy opened up to reveal communities where people think my hair color’s going extinct. People would detail how much they wanted to rape me - a natural blonde - and kill my friends and family for not looking like me. That they want to jerk off in my naturally curly hair and see me in glowy German princess gowns preparing them dinner.

Crispy and other Nazistans would look at me; a blond-haired blue eyed Polish/German American woman and think I need to be “fixed” because I DARE to repeat propaganda that the Nazis were bad. They’d call me a traitor for thinking that celebrating the Nazi party ISN’T German pride.

HOW DARE YOU TELL ME THAT’S GERMAN PRIDE! I’LL SHOW YOU GERMAN PRIDE YOU EGOSTROKING-LIMPDICKED ATTENTION WHORES.

People like Crispy make it 1000x harder to actually show interest in German things. Because I AM interested in German shit btw.

Like for real: it’s a country I’d love to visit one day (at least the black forest, which is where my mom’s fam comes from). I love German art and German fairytales slap. I really do want to explore my heritage through art and stuff.

But guess what? Much as Crispy would argue to the contrary I DO know my WWII history and beyond and FUCK YOU if you honestly think jerking it to cuddly Nazi-furs is empowering or just “showing your interest in history”. Take your own advice and read a god-damn book.

TL;DR: I DO NOT have to be proud of Nazis to enjoy German culture and if you think otherwise, FUCK YOU. It’s a slap in the face to everyone even if you are ‘just trolling’ and it in no way values actual German’s feeling on the matter. It’s annoying how people undervalue real people just for the sake of fan art.

The Nazis were evil. They were racist, eugenic-genocidal idiots who killed over six million Jewish people, Romani, Slavs, Jehovahs Witnesses, disabled people, Poles, homosexuals and prisoners of war. They would have killed my dad’s side of the family if they were in Poland at the time. They made bullshit tanks that killed the people making them and didn’t work on the battlefield. Their leader was a fat, farting one-testicaled bastard who preferred animals to people.

They ruined everything for everyone and then took the easy way out, leaving the Germans that were left in the hands of the also-genocidal Soviets and Americans. Germany is still paying their war debts and now, 70-80 years later everyone else wants to laugh off this dark period of history with memes and forget what they did, and as such, are forgetting the victims of the genocide.

I have 0 tolerance for Nazi things for the sake of HUMANITY, let alone the individual groups they target. I don’t have to have German ancestry or know a single Jewish person to tell you any of this. It’s fucking history.

Eat shit.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword Chapter 58: Living Sin (Part 10)

The B-Class Toguro fights the S-Class Yusuke Urameshi before unleashing a power beyond the one he had before he died.

Tenro, the reincarnation of Makoto Shishio, finally makes an appearance and wreaks havoc against all the Reikai Senshi before facing off against the man who killed him originally: Kenshin Himura.

The original source of this idea comes from Chad Yang. I continued his story idea found here.

The rest of the chapters of my Yuyu Hakusho and Rurouni Kenshin crossover fan fiction are available here and here. Enjoy.

First | Previous | Next (Youtou Shinnoken) | Next (Demon Sword)

About a hundred years or so ago...

In 1878, after fighting Kenshin "Battousai" Himura to a draw, Makoto Shishio died in a literal blaze of glory (through his own spontaneous combustion when his overheating body broke its limits) and went to Hell.

When he got there, he ended up right before the imposing, gigantic figure of Enma Daio, who asked him, "What are you doing here, mortal? Go back to the Gates of Judgment in order to be judged."

Shishio then replied, "Get out of my throne. I'm the new King of Hell."

***

Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword

A Rurouni Kenshin/Yuyu Hakusho Crossover Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

Original Concept by Chad Yang

Tenro has finally arrived in Okushiri. How will the Reikai Senshi answer his challenge, especially after learning the truth about him?

Disclaimer: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, and Studio Pierrot. Rurouni Kenshin is the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallop, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted materials that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 58: Living Sin (Part 10)

***

Back at the Okushiri Military Base...

A shouting, crying Yahiko kneeled in front of Botan's unmoving body, seeing the huge hole in Botan's person.

A hole in the shinigami who somehow was also his kendo master from a former life, Kaoru Kamiya  (he didn't quite understand it).

Had he failed again? Like before, when Enishi Yukishiro...?

No. He would not let Kaoru down again. Not after what the Kenshingumi had been through right after Kenshin Himura died and...!

"Bloody Rain," said Yumi Komagata, who again made it rain blood mixed with what seemed like scalpels.

Right above the dark clouds filled with the scarlet squall were Houji Sadojima's shikigami (familiars) that looked like grim reapers in and of themselves due to their ragged clothes, faceless voids covered by hoods for heads, and long scythes.

And beyond them was Gatekeeper Itsuki, who had a mini-gun at the ready in order to test the limits of a solidified ghost body before it became incorporeal once more. Knowing that gunpowder had no spirit energy for Yahiko to neutralize.

"DOU GAMI! (GOD ON EARTH!)" Yahiko's earth-shattering technique blasted away the razor-sharp precipitation and Itsuki's suppressive fire into oblivion, allowing him to dissipate the slicing rain bullets around him and the soul-crushing pressure of the borrowed aura of the Onmyouji (Occult Priest).

"Insolent welp...!" Houji said the thing.

"TEN GAMI! (GOD IN HEAVEN!)" Myojin shouted as he did a much more powerful version of the God on Earth that shot him up high into the heavens. Even the nimbus clouds parted from the strength of his slash.

This rocked and shook the military base like an earthquake while the Tokyo Samurai Descendant himself approached the Onmyouji like the resulting tsunami of such an earthquake.

"INGA GAMI! (KARMIC GOD!)"

It was this technique that suddenly turned the poisonous miasma of the Overfiend into something else. Something filled with positive energy and life-giving, nourishing soul power.

Sanosuke Sagara then noticed how the crimson, purple, and black miasma of jaki surrounding them changed in color, texture, and volume. Flickering back and forth from a cool blue wave to a scarlet mess.

He then checked on Botan, only to gasp in surprise despite being a ghost that didn't need to breathe or have sudden oxygen intakes.

The hole in her chest caused by one of Itsuki's black holes had begun healing. The jaki surrounding them, as Sano suspected, was slowly being purified into reiki, which in turn the ferry-girl used to heal herself.

Not only herself, actually. She shared the wealth by beaming the spirit energy she absorbed unto Kazuma Kuwabara and Sanosuke too. Replenishing their depleted spiritual power and increasing their health at the same time.

A full restore for all her allies, if you would.

'What's going on here? Is this Yahiko's doing? Or hers?'

It was actually both.

Yahiko neutralized the overpowering potency of the Chojin's jaki just short of making it altogether disappear. Botan then purified the weakened negative energy into reiki she used to heal herself and the others while also powering them up, as though she filled the role of the Onmyouji for the Reikai Senshi (Spirit World Warriors).

Meanwhile, Kuwabara and Botan exchanged knowing glances.

They'd gone through this incident before. To be more specific, they witnessed Yusuke do the same thing Yahiko (and Kaoru) attempted to do firsthand.

It was when Urameshi got a hold of the Meikai Crystal and attempted to use it against the last Meikai God standing, Yakumo. The negative energy almost consumed him before his sheer willpower (and at the time hidden demonic lineage) turned the jaki into reiki instead.

Yahiko had decided it was easier to weaken the Chojin's overwhelming negative energy so that Kaoru could turn it into positive (spirit) energy instead of attempting to neutralize or seal it all at once.

The tag team of Yahiko and Kaoru allowed them to replicate what Yusuke himself did alone.

Break it down to its core components first, bit by bit.

The samurai boy then said, "BANZEN GAMI. (PERFECT GOD.)"

***

"Great fighters refuse to lose, but you refuse to win just to get back that feeling and exhilaration of conquering something greater than you. So what do you do now that you're in a world where nothing is greater than you?"

Those were Younger Toguro's words even as Yusuke Urameshi effortlessly tanked through and walked down his offense while blasting him to nigh-oblivion with the Renshya Rei-Gan (Rapid-Fire Spirit Gun).

'What the hell was that supposed to mean?!' Yusuke thought.

Was Toguro Ototo right? Had Urameshi become too powerful? Was he holding back his power level in order to drag out fights he would've easily won otherwise, thus endangering the lives of those he protected?

Ha. As if.

Those words truly did sound deep. They'd sound even deeper and more meaningful if said by a guy who wasn't getting his ass kicked care of him.

If that were true, he would've already hunted down and killed the Chojin himself. He wasn't even the most powerful being in Makai (Demon World), let alone all three worlds. He was a level below the likes of Mukuro and Yomi as well as his deceased ancestor/father figure Raizen.

Not to mention Raizen's old comrades having power levels so high they could band together and conquer both the Human and Spirit Worlds if they so chose.

No, instead of it being a case of Yusuke growing too ridiculously powerful, it was instead a matter of Toguro remaining stagnant and weak by comparison.

The martial artist who belonged to the "baby boomer" generation might've been powerful for a demon not trapped in Makai and blocked off by the Spirit World Barrier. However, he was a pissant compared to the likes of the monsters Urameshi eventually faced in the Demon World Unification Tournament.

On top of all that, Yusuke didn't want to hear that nonsense from the King of Holding Back. The Emperor of Power Percentages.

"Rando's Kugai (World of Suffering) is a low-level technique used by monks to empathically feel the pain and suffering of those around them. The fact that you're still suffering from its effects isn't because of its curse but because of how you reacted to it."

Yusuke frowned. Indeed, for quite sometime since his fight with Rando, every punch he threw at his opponents he also felt. For once, he found out what it was like to get punched by himself.

However, it also served as his training. The more he felt his own punches, the more resistant he became of his own power, thus raising his threshold of pain and his ability to take a punch. He could dish it out and take it.

He wasn't sure he could say the same about Toguro.

His ripcord muscles strained to their utmost, the Younger Toguro ended up having his muscle fibers ripped apart, cracked, and shattered like pottery. The anabolic state he used to grow his muscles to absurd sizes ended up completely wasted because he couldn't handle A-Level to S-Level bursts of power.

Yusuke nevertheless conceded one point to Toguro: The teenager did miss staking his life and limb to defeat an enemy, using all his strength to defend his friends and family.

He hadn't really done so lately. Not really. The last time he had a satisfying match was against Yomi.

Ever since then, his enemies mainly resorted to trickery reminiscent of Kido Asato freezing him with his shadow powers or Hiei kidnapping Keiko Yukimura to defeat him.

All of the Chojin's Shin Ju ended up as weaklings compared to Urameshi. Each and every one of them. To go against them with his full powers would be a waste of effort.

Like lighting a candle with a flamethrower or cutting grass with a chainsaw. Complete overkill.

Then again, wasn't this also the reason why Toguro, even though he was only B-Level, tended to hide his power level or only use a percentage of his power?

Huh. They were more alike than he thought.

***

Botan smiled in spite of herself. Or rather, her lips curved upward on their own and then said things not of her own volition due to her astral body's second inhabitant: Kaoru Kamiya.

"There it is. The Perfect God. That's Yahiko's answer to mastering the Mujinken."

A hundred years or so ago, Kaoru originally taught Yahiko the Tenchijinken (forethought-based techniques involving the prediction of an opponent's moves) and taught Yutaro Tsukayama the Mujinken (reflex-based techniques that reacted to whatever the opponent did in the heat of the moment) to fill in their respective weaknesses.

The two were actually more suited for each other's techniques, since Yahiko fought more off-the-cuff while Yutaro fought more methodically.

She intentionally sealed away the techniques that played to the two's strengths so that they could overcome their weaknesses with the opposite techniques, believing that someday they'd figure out how to do each other's ultimate attacks down the line anyway.

While the Inga Gami showed Yahiko's version of methodical fighting (with him focusing on every counterstrike to unleash the best counters without any wasted movement or energy), it was the instinctual Banzen Gami that showed his fullest potential.

Yahiko was more of a natural with the Perfect God than the Karmic God. It was the opposite for the more thoughtful Yutaro (who now went by the name and identity of Natsuki Shinkai/Xinhai).

"INSECT!" sneered Houji, his wide eyes glowing red, his voice booming like thunder as he produced what seemed like an endless stream of shikigami. Only for Myojin to seemingly cut and disintegrate them with a couple of reflexive waves of his sakabatou.

He wasn't even looking at the reapers as every reflexive slice of his blunt sword blew them apart and sent them to oblivion, his gaze aimed solely at Sadojima

The miasma of black jaki turned into white and blue shining reiki as Myojin neutralized it and Kaoru converted it into pure reiki. Once he reached Houji, their respective weapons clashed, the entire area split between the morning light colors from behind Yahiko and the pitch-black darkness from behind Sadojima.

It was like the clash of day and night, with the point of impact serving as their dusk or dawn. Twilight or daybreak.

To Houji's alarm, his scythe then started to crack and break. 'What the HELL is with this stupid brat!? I thought our only real threats are the Youkiri Battousai and Urameshi Yusuke! Chojin-sama, HELP!'

***

Instead of going down from the barrage of Rei-Gan shots, Toguro merely said, "Stop wasting energy," as though Yusuke left the light or electric fan turned on or something.

To Yusuke's surprise (or perhaps disappointment), the B-Class Toguro reacted to the Spirit Gun bombardment the exact same way as he did during the Ankoku Bujutsukai (Dark Martial Arts Tournament): By attempting to charge at the growing spirit energy bullets to stop them with his bare hands and feet as well as his purely anabolic, hugely muscular body.

And just like that, it was over. With Toguro face down on the ground, his body shattered and torn from its exploded musculature. A tall, lean husk of its former self.

Another one bit the dust. Like the rest of Yusuke's revived enemies that came back stronger because of the Chojin but not quite strong enough to take him on.

To Yusuke's mild surprise, Toguro was still "alive".  Or this revived zombie version of himself made by the Chojin's own personal Dr. Frankenstein was still moving.

The muscleman mercenary then said, "I'm merely at B-Level and I was able to push you this far? Your fighting senses have dulled, Urameshi Yusuke."

"Oh really? Well, I've discovered that at this point, no one could beat me but myself. You're welcome to prove me wrong, though," said Yusuke.

Again, Urameshi pulled something right out of Toguro's playbook. They both looked down on people who weren't on their level.

Toguro looked up at the night sky, which rekindled his memories. The Shichousei (Death Omen Star, also known as the Lifespan Star, Jumyoboshi, Alcor, or 80 Ursae Majoris) wasn't present near the Big Dipper.

"I can't see the Shichousei in the heavens."

"W-What are you talking about, Toguro? Have you gone cuckoo?"

Legend had it that when two warriors fought to the death under the Star of Death and it shone upon one of them, that person would die.

Was the star missing because he was already dead? Or because this wasn't much of a death match?

Fine. He'd turn this match into a death match then.

On the other hand, other Japanese myths and legends alleged that when a person couldn't see the Lifespan Star, he'd pass away within a year. That was appropriate since Toguro himself was not alive anymore.

Thusly, every broken bone from his body reset and healed, but instead of going back to normal, they formed sharp calcified bone spurs that protruded right out of his craggy, callused body like horns or thorns.

"...I knew it! You still had another form after 100%, you son of a bitch! CHOU REI-GAN! (MEGA SPIRIT GUN!)"

As Toguro got a power boost from the way his body decided to recover from his injuries, he punched back the Chou Rei-Gan Yusuke fired at his changing form before punching the teenager as well with his bone spur claws on his fist right at the moment of impact, quadrupling its effect.

He just jumped from Class-B to Class-A in a mere second.

"Ooof!" The world-stopping punch emptied the air from Yusuke's lungs.

"My former 100% has actually become less than a percentage point of my power, but for the sake of giving you a point of reference, I'll base my power increases on what was 100% of my power."

He grew about as big as his 100% of 100% form, perhaps even a little bigger, but this time around the demonized behemoth's black hair turned as grey as steel along with the rest of his vascular body that was covered with huge bony protrusions.

"So you can call this form of mine as me at 500% of my power."

"Whatever! HYAKU RETSU-KEN! (HUNDRED RENDING FISTS!)"

Appropriately enough, the attack Yusuke then used in response to Toguro's transformation was one he saw on television from his favorite anime show as a child of the 1980s, "Hokuto no Ken (Fist of the North Star)".

The Shichousei or Death Omen Star was, after all, also referenced by the same program.

Honestly, it was just Urameshi going ham on an opponent by randomly striking his heavy-handed punches at every opening available to him, with him naming the "technique" after the fact.

***

The devastation of the Okushiri Military base extended outward, with the pairs of Kazuma and Yumi as well as Sanosuke and Itsuki traveling eastward in a trail of devastation that followed Yahiko's own blaze of glory.

The green comet that was the Tokyo Samurai Descendant clashed and burned through the spherical cloud of miasma protecting Sadojima, like a shooting star entering the atmosphere.

The two pairs of enemies fought tooth and nail for proper positioning. The Reikai Senshi pushed the Chojin's forces back to protect Myojin from their interference.

Sanosuke punched through everything Itsuki threw at him from his hyperdimensional portals and busted portal gun. Sano also dodged the dense scattershot black holes and threw pavement debris at the Gatekeeper for good measure.  

Meanwhile, Kazuma fought from afar using his blade that can literally cut through anything and anywhere in order to slash apart every attempt of the wind vampire Yumi to blast tornadoes and energy-absorbing jaki at him.

Finally, Myojin himself struck the Chojin's (and at this point, it was the Chojin controlling the Onmyouji) scythe hard, the blade covered in miasma and dark energy.

The tides of battle then turned.

Using the jaki Kaoru purified into reiki, Yahiko's green aura became denser and denser, creating a white shining void at the center of his body that sucked the darkness of the Chojin away. Acting like a reverse black hole or even white hole that absorbed all of the Overfiend's darkness into his pure light.

'This is it, Botan,' thought Kaoru "telepathically". 'This is the power of Mu (Void). The power of emptiness.'

'Emptiness...?' repeated the ferry-girl.

'Yes. A true martial artist is able to fight with instinct, freeing his mind of all thought and distractions, leading to a Zen State. Yahiko manifested this Zen State into his unique skill: Neutralizing spiritual energy.'

A second later, all energy from everyone dissipated, and from there Houji's scythe shattered like glass as both he and Yahiko plummeted into the docks of the Okushiri Pier.  

The samurai spirit fell into Ryu Tsui Sen (Dragon Hammer Flash) stance and slammed Sadojima into one of the metal crates of the pier below them with an emphatic crash.  

"You stupid kid! I'll show you! ETERNAL...! Wait, what?! My powers are gone!"

Yumi Komagata attempted to do the Hi-Ougi (Hidden Art) of Vampire Martial Arts—a move stronger than the energy-sapping Blood Wind—but nothing of the sort manifested before her. Her aura, the energy she gathered from sucking many a soldier's blood, had disappeared.

The same happened to Itsuki, who couldn't summon his Reverse-Man or escape into his pocket dimension any longer.

Yahiko's reiki had also went out, which normally was dangerous for a ghost but he somehow reached homeostasis with the way he cancelled out the Chojin's jaki.

His dense green aura had now completely neutralized the powers of everyone near him instead of merely mitigating their flow, including the now unconscious Onmyouji.

Like how no light could escape the event horizon of a black hole, not one shadow of the Chojin's dark energy could exist amidst the blinding green light of Yahiko's converging spiritual aura.

However, as a consequence, even Yahiko's allies lost their powers as well, as though he was acting as the reverse version of the Onmyouji. Instead of boosting the powers of those in his vicinity, he nullified them.

Regardless, Sanosuke and Kuwabara immediately took advantage of the loss of powers from Itsuki and Yumi with their physical strength, with the former beating Itsuki to a pulp and Kuwabara breaking the umbrella and fan of Komagata bareheaded before tackling and pinning her down.

"Give it up, lady. You lost," said Kuwabara. "You can't cheat your way out of this one by resurrecting your goons every time we defeat them. Your precious Onmyouji's down for the count."

Yahiko "heaved" a sigh of relief despite being a solidified ghost who didn't need to breathe. "It's finally over."

Botan giggled in glee. "We did it! You did it! The number one pupil of Kamiya Kasshin! I'm so proud of you, Yahiko!" The last few parts of that statement was Kaoru talking.  

Sano looked at his own bloody fists and winced. 'We've won, but why do I feel like it's not yet over? Like there's still something afoot.'

Even though the blood from his right fist wasn't his own but Itsuki's, it burned and ached something fierce. Like he broke his hand or something. 'What's going on? I have a bad feeling about this.'

Sanosuke's bad feeling then turned into reality.

***

At Class-A, Yusuke Urameshi's Hyaku Retsu-Ken would've turned the B-Plus Toguro into mince meat. Or roadkill.

At Class-S, his Hyaku Retsu-Ken would've turned mountains like Mt. Kannon, Mt. Kamui, and even Mt. Fuji into molehills, plains, or even outright trenches and canyons as deep as the United States of America's Grand Canyon.

Like he was a pint-sized Paul Bunyan.

The teenager harrumphed. "Really? 500%? Like I'm fighting 5 Toguros at the same time? So what? That's still nothing compared to the demons I've faced since defeating you, Toguro...!"

The bone-breaking punches cracked the shell of Toguro's chitinous muscle armor bit by bit. However, in turn, Toguro let his fists fly as well but in a more methodical manner.

Targeting his punches at Yusuke's openings rather than punching randomly. Using his martial arts experience to take down the stronger foe.  

His bony yet muscular fists pounded on Yusuke's smaller body, cracking bones here and there.

Yusuke's fists ached from every punch he did on the rock-solid body of Toguro, the multitude of Spirit Cuffs holding his power back also getting pushed to their limit. The restraining cuffs and seals he placed upon himself were at their near breaking point from him merely flexing his immense power.

Thank goodness the likes of Yomi, Mukuro, Enki, and the rest of Raizen's friends (as well as Raizen himself when he was alive) put him in his place early on regarding what real power looked like, or else he'd be full of himself right about now.

The Toguro with chitinous bone spurs and keratinous horns all over his muscle-bound body ended up breaking each and every one of his thick, calcified bones from the impact of Yusuke's attacks.

Toguro's bones rattled as micro-tears appeared all over his muscles and tendons. Despite this, he pushed forward. Like his older brother, he healed quickly, which alerted Urameshi that he still had something in his sleeve.

"All right. Then how about this? TAKO NAGURI!"

The Octopus Assault—Yusuke's version of the Kuzu Ryu Sen (Nine-Dragon Flash) that hit 8 times instead of 9 times in an instant—hammered the horned gray body of the zombified and demonized Toguro before he could get the chance to stab, gore, or spear Yusuke with his many protruding bone spurs.

Urameshi once heard that it took either 23,034 slaps to cook a chicken. Either that, or a slap traveling at 1,665.65 meters per second.

He wasn't sure about the math, but he cooked Toguro's goose at a rate of 8-16 punches a second with every punch traveling at 1,000-2,000 meters per second, so it would've took about 20 minutes of non-stop Tako Naguri to get to around 20,000 punches or 2,500 super-powered Tako Naguri.

Or he would've cooked/burned 20,000 whole chickens with his speedy punches at around the same time it took to cook a chicken in the oven.

However, it was at the second minute that Urameshi broke his hand. He hit a hard shell reminiscent of Usui's shield.

From the pile of minced meat, torn muscle cords, and viscera emerged yet another Toguro form.

What stood before him wasn't the spurred behemoth Toguro but instead a fully armored Toguro, with every inch of his body covered in craggy white bone.

As though his shattered bones healed wrong and ended up calcifying right on top of his pulsating muscles. He broke the calcified armor in sections by flexing his limbs in order to give his new outer shell moving joints.

It also made him look like a white lobster man, thought Yusuke in chagrin.

"This is 1,000% of my power. 100 times the power of my 100% self."

***

At the Okushiri Pier, around 9:47 PM...

The mangled remains of a man landed right in front of Reikai's finest from out of the shadows of the dark harbor.

The Reikai Senshi (and their accompanying shinigami) then felt goose bumps form at the napes of their necks—even the ghostly ones that didn't even have tangible skin, blood, or hair to make such a sensation possible.

Even Itsuki, whom Sano beat from pillar to post with bare-knuckle fisticuffs, looked none the worse for wear compared to the person before them.

He was bathed in blood and his torn clothes were dyed crimson because of it. He looked like he'd been ravaged by a pack of wolves.

The only thing recognizable about him was that he was male.  Probably.

Sanosuke was the first one to try and poke at the figure to see who it was. If he had a ten-foot pole, he'd prod the man with it. As it was, thanks to Yahiko manifesting his full neutralization powers, Sano couldn't even summon one zanbatou right now.

The street fighter then stumbled back, which made Kazuma ask, "What's wrong? Who is it? Is that one of the Chojin's Shin Ju or whatever?"

Botan gulped, hoping against hope that the man before them was the injured body of one of the New Ten Swords instead of one of the Spirit World Warriors.

Before Sano could answer, someone else answered for him.

"That's what remains of Hajime Saito. The former captain of the Shinsengumi's Third Unit."

"...What? Who said that?" demanded Yahiko.

The Reikai Tantei, the shinigami, and the Kenshingumi then turned in time to see the silhouette of a pony-tailed person from the distance.

There stood a human(?) of about S-Level power with sleeked-back hair, a lengthy ponytail, and a half-undone kimono that showed off his rippling swimmer's muscles on his long build.

As realization dawned on them one by one, their mouths went agape, practically unhinged from their upper jaw.

The blood drained from Kuwabara's face while the three spiritual beings' faces (Botan/Kaoru, Sano, and Yahiko) looked more transparent than usual.

The ghosts all looked like they'd seen a ghost (ironically enough), forgetting they were ghosts themselves. Gasping for air they couldn't breathe anymore.

Even Kuwabara, who was alive, looked like he'd seen a ghost himself or even turned into one.

The man, who himself was a bloody mess with stabs wounds and cuts at every inch of his body, held something in his arms.

It was his trophy. His prize after a hard day's battle.

It was the head of his enemy. It was the head of Hajime Saito.

Botan screamed. Or rather, Kaoru did.

The Kamiya Kasshin Master couldn't believe that Kenshin's greatest rival who was so famous he became a Japanese historical figure later on had been defeated.

On the other hand, Botan—through centuries of being a death goddess—had seen worse things before, so she was desensitized enough to not scream. Her own feeling of dread was around the same level as Kaoru's, though.

The pony-tailed assassin then took one look at the Kenshingumi sans Kenshin, the Reikai Tantei sidekick, and their shinigami babysitter then sighed.

"Oh, no one but weaklings left? Pathetic. Imagine, after such a delicious meal, I'm left with leftovers and expired food."

The new arrival then placed Saito's head beside the rest of his body. Almost reverently. "Rest in peace, Saito Hajime. You were truly a worthy rival. I acknowledge you."

"You killed Officer Fujita! You BASTARD!" screamed Kuwabara, a knife-sized Rei-Ken ablaze with reiki and righteous indignation in his grip.

Kazuma would've produced a full-length Jigen Tou with the rage he felt, but Yahiko's neutralizing presence kept his powers in check.

"Wait. Boke (Fool), he's...!" Sano trailed off, moving in front of Kuwabara to block him from doing anything hasty. 'If anyone's going to do something hasty, it was going to be me!' thought Sagara.

"Who are you?" said Yahiko as he pointed his sakabatou at the stranger.

"I'm Youkiri Tenro (Tenro the Demon-Slayer). Remember that name before I send you back to Heaven."

***

Yusuke quickly checked his Spirit Detector. Toguro was now at A-Level with his Bone Armor form. Around the same power level as the most powerful members of the Reikai Tokubetsu Bouetai (Spirit World Special Forces).

This turn of events definitely piqued his interest. Somewhat. Maybe this time, he'd get the battle he so craved from this new version of Toguro since being defeated by Yomi in the Makai Tournament.

However, the extra layer of bone armor made it harder for Yusuke to break apart Toguro's muscle armor with mere punches, no matter what velocity he reached.

As though Toguro now had double the armor.

Also, in turn, the Class-A Toguro Ototo pummeled and stabbed Yusuke with earth-shattering strikes from his bony fists, horns, and claws as well as shattered pieces of his bone armor that kept calcifying and regrowing over and over. Layer by layer. Like samurai armor or shingles on the roof.

Stubbornly, the bloody and bruised Yusuke kept on punching the armored demon to push him away and give himself breathing room.

The bony yet muscle-bound contradiction of a monster that looked ridiculously gigantic yet unencumbered by his musculature having an extra layer of armor on top of it, turning him into a veritable tank with the speed of a Mack truck. He even hit like a truck.

However, as his wounds healed in Toguro Ani fashion, Urameshi realized that he had long ago surpassed the version of him that could get killed by being hit by a car. Or a truck. Or a tank. Or perhaps even a nuclear warhead. Maybe.

"Rei-Kou-Dan (Spirit Light Wave Bullet)."

One of his Spirit Cuffs broke as he put his hip into his punches and imbued his fists with actual spiritual power. They were already harder than steel because of the spirit energy contained within his body. When he emanated reiki from inside and outside himself, his punches also become explosive.

One reiki-imbued punch was all it took for him to crack the bone armor of Toguro at 1,000%. However, he wasn't done.

Perhaps he might have gone overboard, but he decided to punch Toguro 20,000 times in 3 minutes rather than 20 minutes. But it sure felt like 20 minutes.

Furthermore, these weren't just physical punches. His fists were set on fire with spiritual energy this time around. He shot out 20,000 Rei-Kou-Dan blasts, to be more precise.

Every supersonic punch had the impact of a blockbuster bomb, with it breaking the sound barrier and sending extra shockwaves to Toguro and all. Perhaps he'd become even more explosive than multiple blockbusters.

Perhaps Yusuke had turned into a teenaged nuke or warhead himself.

However, out of the mangled mess of bone armor emerged yet another Toguro. The armor that should've served as his coffin ended up becoming his cocoon for his newest metamorphosis. Which, to Yusuke's surprise, made him breathe a sigh in relief.

Yes! He could still push himself even further!

Was this excited feeling the same one that Toguro felt when, just a few years prior, Yusuke was able to withstand the might of 80% of his power when he killed Genkai in cold blood?

Regardless, a bronze-skinned, taller, and four-armed Toguro emerged from all that mush and burnt flesh he'd become earlier, impossibly towering even higher over Yusuke than before. His current ginormous form made his former seven-foot form look normal-sized in comparison.

His muscles were like taut steel cords now, like those used in heavy-duty tires and conveyer belts. Perhaps even harder. They were definitely harder than the pieces of thick calcified bone armor that they crushed like egg shells with a simple collective body flex.

"This is 100,000% of my power. This is what fighting 1,000 clones of my 100% self looks like."

Yusuke thought for a second what Toguro meant by that, only for him to test the theory out with an additional 20,000 Rei-Kou-Dan blasts in a minute. 20,000 palm blocks later and Urameshi now had a better idea of what his nemesis meant, followed by 20,000 counterpunches in between those blocks.

All in a minute's time.

'100,000% Toguro? He didn't even bother going to 10,000%? Jeez!' Urameshi thought as he got hit with a two-armed lariat that dragged his body across the landscape and river like a trailer home in a tornado.

This was it. This was the A-Plus version of Toguro.

Yusuke couldn't even hide the grin from his face even as this newest form of Toguro beat him to the punch every time.

Toguro at 100,000% had even tighter and tauter musculature with enough strength and torque behind them to break bones to dust. His ripcord muscles could handle punching velocities similar to that of or even faster than Yusuke's.

It also didn't help that Toguro now had a body that could accommodate four arms, thus giving him twice the hand speed and arm speed due to his literal extra limbs.

***

"...SHISHIO!" screamed Sanosuke at Tenro, his blood (ectoplasm) boiling. His right fist, which Makoto Shishio broke, pulsating like a second heart.

Even though Tenro wasn't wearing bandages and his skin wasn't burned to a crisp, Sano could recognize that voice and that demeanor anywhere.

'Shishio?' thought Kuwabara. So Tenro was the man who founded the original Juppon Gatana? Kenshin's greatest rival? The man who ultimately caused Kenshin's demise? The man who might actually be the alter ego of the Chojin himself?

The guy who not only pushed Hiei to his limits, but also possibly two of the Demon World's three kings, Yomi and Mukuro? Was Tenro Shishio's reincarnation or something...?

Before they knew it, they were suddenly faced with the final boss of the game.

The fighting spirit of Sanosuke rose high enough for him to defy the nullifying presence of Yahiko and form half of a zanbatou in his hands, which he swung at the (presumably) non-burned version or reincarnation of the ex-hitokiri and Meiji rebel known as Makoto Shishio.

With one swing of Tenro's Mugen Jin (Unlimited Blade) sword, Sagara's suspicions were confirmed.

"Secret Sword One: HOMURA DAMA!"

Shishio's signature Homura Dama (Burning Soul) technique where his sword burst into flame clashed hard against the 6-foot (normally 12-foot) horse-chopping sword, smelting it in the process like a blacksmith's forge in a shower of sparks.

"A weakling like usual, Sagara Sanosuke," sneered Tenro. "It's been a while, though."

"I don't understand. Wasn't Shishio supposed to look like a mummy or something? He's some guy who was burnt to a crisp and covered in bandages, right?" said Kazuma.

Sano answered, "Yeah, but obviously it's been 100 years. He must've found a way to get a new body, or ended up with a solidified soul, or got reincarnated as this Tenro clown."

Myojin gulped. He considered deactivating his powers to allow either Kuwabara or Sanosuke to attack the youkiri. However, if Tenro was this powerful with his spiritual power nullified, how much more powerful could he get when Yahiko's powers ceased working?

The disheveled Yumi then cackled in the background, the hole in her chest throbbing with a ghostly heart that the man before her had "stolen" from her.

"It's about time you got here, Tenro. What took you so long? Don't tell me the Miburo (Mibu's Wolf) gave you all that you can handle and then some."

Tenro harrumphed. "Perish the thought, Yumi. I merely gave my respects first to the Shinsengumi in the Battle of Hakodate Monument, and guess who I also found there? That's right, our favorite Shinsengumi Captain, Saito Hajime."

'Hakodate?!' thought Yahiko. 'That's four hours away from Okushiri! All the way on the other side of Hokkaido, at that!'

Sanosuke himself snarled at Tenro, his fist burning with pain and fire, as though it remembered how Makoto had shattered it when they'd faced each other back at Mt. Hiei.

'Hakodate is the place that served as the Shinsengumi's last stand. Did Saito go there to pay his respects to his squad? In the middle of our war against the Shin Ju? It's not like him to be so sentimental.'

The street fighter spared a glance at the remains of Hajime Saito. Unbelievable. Just earlier, he pushed several of the Shin Juppon Gatana to their limits, but now he ended up as dead as the rest of the original Shinsengumi.

Well, Saito himself was supposed to already be dead and buried in the first place, but this time around he got killed off for real by Shishio. Or Tenro, which was probably the reincarnation of Shishio.

Kuwabara turned towards Yahiko and said, "Kid, turn off your powers! I'm going to face off with the final boss one-on-one at my full strength!"

"But...!" the ghost kid trailed off before Botan filled in the rest.

"Kuwabara-kun, he can't. He's the only one sealing Tenro's immense power. If he was able to do that to Saito, imagine what he could do to us! Let Yahiko seal his power for now until either Kenshin or Yusuke arrives!" warned the ferry-girl.

"I DON'T CARE!" shouted Kazuma. "Let us face him at his full strength while we're also at full strength! As a real man, I won't back down!"

Tenro smirked. "Fine then. If you're not bluffing then come at me. In this world and beyond it, the same rules of nature apply. Only the strongest survive and the weak are food for the strong."

Sano's eyes narrowed. That convinced him that the man before him really was Shishio. That was totally a Shishio-type line. 'It's now or never. We just have to keep him here until either Kenshin or that delinquent best friend of Boke arrives!'

***

"REI-KOU-DAN!" shouted Urameshi, his Spirit Wave Light Bullets bursting through his fist like bolts of lightning from a Railgun.

The 100,000% Toguro blocked the punch with his elbow, shattering Yusuke's hand bones in the process. "Is this the power of an S-Level? Don't make me laugh. Me at 100,000% of my power is enough for you."

Toguro then grabbed hold of Urameshi's limbs with all four of his arms in a bid to tear the teenager apart literally from limb to limb.

Yusuke considered Toguro's statement for a second and then said, "Fuck that," before flipping the four-armed monster off with his right hand.

The mere idea that someone like Feng Xinhai or The "Beautiful" Suzuki was more powerful than Toguro just didn't sit well with Urameshi. At all.

At any rate, the middle finger he raised at the 100,000% Toguro then flowed with energy he'd been saving for a special occasion.

Yusuke discovered that he could actually save and store his dormant spirit energy as a reserve or extra Spirit Gun blast for use in case of emergencies since it usually took forever and a day to charge his Rei-Gan.

The energy for this one he'd been gathering for weeks' on end.

Also, in order for him to not mistakenly fire off his reserve Rei-Gan, he had this special energy bullet stored in his middle finger. This was how the new technique that he improvised when facing off against the S-Level Xinhai ultimately evolved.

This was his "Fuck You!" Spirit Gun. Also known as the "FAKKU GAN! (FUCK GUN!)"

The 100,000% Toguro chucked Yusuke away like a hot potato in order to better dodge the point-blank spiritual projectile then punted the Fuck Gun back to the teenager who fired it.

However, by instinct borne from his hundreds of fights against spiritually powerful humans and demons, Yusuke jumped away from the Fakku Gan, grabbed Toguro by the ankle, dragged him towards the ball of plasma fire he actually outran, and then threw the monster back into its path.

From there, as the 100,000% Toguro braced himself for impact, Urameshi emerged from behind him. Attacking him from the rear for good measure.

Toguro was now stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or between a demon and his energy blast.

"REI-KOU-DAN! SHOT GUN!" screamed the half-demon prince.

While the Fakku Gan blasted and disintegrated the giant from the front, Yusuke attacked with his Spirit Light Wave Bullets and reiki scattershot from behind, which kept even the four-armed monstrosity from defending himself from the upcoming onslaught surrounding him.

The charged-up blasts of energy in particle and wave forms bore on Toguro like plasma tides or a solar wind. An endless series of reiki tidal waves from the vast ocean of Urameshi's power.

Thanks to the extra pressure brought about by his stored energy blast from many weeks ago, Yusuke's Rei-Kou-Dan was able to penetrate deep into Toguro's core. The technique ripped apart the steel cord muscles of Toguro as they got softened by the comet of energy that cooked him alive.  

Then, as Yusuke had hoped deep in his unbeating heart, the mangled Toguro changed form yet again.

The same heart that stopped beating after Shinobu Sensui first pierced it felt like it had started beating again in anticipation. In excitement. In nostalgia, even.

Toguro still had more forms and powers up his sleeve. Just like old times.

And from there, out of the ashes and melted muscle of the 100,000% Toguro came forth the One Million Percent Toguro.

"One Million Percent. This is me at One Million Percent of my power, Urameshi Yusuke."

***

Kuwabara and Sanosuke attacked Tenro at the same time while Yahiko struggled on the spot to focus all his neutralizing powers on the Shishio reincarnation(?) alone.

Botan checked her Spirit Detector again. Hope sprouted anew within her heart. 'Yes! Tenro's power level went down to A-Level. He's still on the cusp of S-Level, but at least he's not as powerful as someone like Sensui or Xinhai! We have a chance!'

Tenro frowned. His aura of jaki had become fainter and weaker due to Myojin's powers.

'Hmmm. The Shin Ju had warned me about this impudent brat. Even Toguro Ani couldn't heal properly thanks to this kid's neutralizing reiki.'

As Yahiko slowly mastered his neutralization powers so that only Tenro was affected by them, the energy levels of Kuwabara and Sanosuke went up higher and higher than before, their auras flaring with spiritual might that was boosted by Botan's healing powers for good measure.

"JIGEN TOU!" screamed Kazuma, summoning his Dimension Sword.

"ZANBATOU!" shouted Sanosuke, producing his 12-foot long Horse-Chopping Sword.

"How appropriate. Isn't this just a reflection of today's society? The weak are using their great numbers to suppress their betters, not realizing that without the strong to lead them or the will to become strong themselves, they will end up extinct. The world stands on the shoulders of giants."

"SHADDAP! I don't know who you are, but all's fair in love and war," declared Kuwabara.

"Not all men are created equal. Like in the Animal Kingdom, some men are simply better than others. Equal opportunity doesn't guarantee equal results. Forcing equal results in an aberration of nature, like forcing animals to act like men, the pinnacle of evolution."

Tenro used a bare hand to grab hold of Kuwabara's Dimension Sword and used his other hand holding the saw-like Mugen Jin to block the full-length zanbatou.

"Ganging up on the strong can lead to the survival of the weak temporarily. However, their own respective weaknesses will sort them out. Their celebration of mediocrity will make them food for other apex predators in the future or have them subjugated by any of their own who decide to become rams instead of sheep."

The Youkiri then broke the Jigen Tou apart like it was made of cardboard instead of pure energy and stabbed Sanosuke's chest with it while also melting the zanbatou with his Mugen Jin's Homura Dama.

"Regardless, it is better to live one day as a lion than one hundred years as a sheep. These are... THE RULES OF NATURE!"

"AUGH!" grunted Sanosuke, his recently recovered soul flickering in and out of existence, his chest spewing ectoplasm, and his aura dissipating into pinpoints of light like a disturbed nest of bioluminescent fireflies.

He felt the light inside him slowly fade all the while.

"Bastard...!" said Kazuma, who repurposed the broken shards of his Jigen Tou and shot it pointblank at Youkiri Tenro's face, turning them into "REI-SHURIKEN!"

He should've hit him with the projectiles from a distance, though. The first few blades bounced off of the intense aura of jaki that covered Tenro's body like armor, which reminded Kuwabara of the aura that Detective Matsudaira developed.

Reiatsu (Spirit pressure).

Tenro's aura was dense enough to become spirit pressure reminiscent of Bui from the Toguro Team. Or Yusuke whenever he unleashed his full power.

So this was the Chojin's secret weapon? If not the Chojin himself altogether?

The demon-slayer then grabbed the teenager's wrist and redirected the shuriken at Sano again, injuring him further. From there, he broke Kuwabara's hand altogether then grabbed him by the collar, declaring, "Secret Sword Two: GUREN KAINA! (CRIMSON LOTUS ARM!)"

Using his Mugen Jin to ignite the gunpowder-laced glove, the youkiri blasted Kuwabara with the force of a bomb.

The gunpowder-inside-the-glove trick that Shishio used on Kenshin was also used against Kazuma, with the explosion violently blowing him away. A hundred years ago, Makoto's hand was kept safe from the blast using a special metal gauntlet underneath the glove full of gunpowder that resisted the impact.

Tenro somehow ended up doing an even stronger version of the Guren Kaina that was imbued with the chaotic negative energy of the Chojin, which made the explosion strong enough to injure a human with the A-Class power level of Kuwabara.

Yahiko's power-suppressing aura didn't help in this case.

Tenro then shot the samurai ghost teen a look that chilled him to his "bones" or "spine". The youkiri then declared, "You will not drag me down to your level. Know your place, child."

However, while Tenro was distracted, the flickering spirit of Sanosuke stabbed the youkiri with hot molten metal of what was left of his sword in a spectacular display of sparks.

This was Sano's one chance of making a dent, so he had to make it count. However, as he attempted to punch Tenro's heart out, his hand ended up crushed with the youkiri's elbow block.

With a harrumph, Tenro proceeded to punch Sanosuke on the forehead, just like when Sano fought Shishio. "You never learn."

"I don't understand," murmured the Kaoru inside Botan's body. "Isn't Yahiko's aura supposed to suppress Tenro's powers too? Why is he still so strong!?"

She then noticed the unconscious Itsuki open his eyes and wake up, which led her to keep her guard up.

The black-and-blue Itsuki chuckled, tracing his finger over the scar Kuwabara had made on his face back when the Reikai Tantei faced off against Shinobu Sensui. "Y-You don't understand. This is him with his power held back."

"W-What do you mean? That's impossible!" Botan checked her Spirit Detector. "Oh no. His power is fluctuating between A-Level and S-Level when earlier it was just A-Level. That can't be! How powerful is he?"

Sneering, Itsuki said, "Who knows? Rumor has it he's about as powerful as one of the Former Three Kings—Mukuro, Yomi, and even the Late Raizen. He might even reach the mythical X-Level like Kurama did when he took hold of the Demon Sword."

Botan's face went pale blue as though unseen hands suddenly grabbed hold of her thin neck. "X-Level?!"

She remembered the event like it was yesterday.

The Spirit World went on high alert when Kurama went Class-X after wielding the Youtou Shinnoken (Demon Sword). They even called the entire Reikai Bouetai in. Not that it would've done them any good, since the Special Forces were composed of Class-A agents and Class-X was a level beyond Class-S.

She couldn't even fathom how strong an X-Level was since Kurama immediately rejected the Demon Sword, which transformed him back into his "human" self.

However, stronger than Yomi, Mukuro, or Raizen gave her a ballpark estimate of what they were dealing with. Someone as strong as or stronger than a Raizen-possessed Yusuke who ragdolled the mountain-destroying Sensui with ease.

All the same, Tenro stood victorious over the beaten figures of Sanosuke and Kuwabara.

"Will you become rams or sheep? Lions or feral street cats? Wolves or mongrel dogs? Can you evolve and turn into apex predators yourselves? It's natural selection. Kill or be killed. Make your choice."

***

The peaceful Tsurikake River had now become a war zone. A swamp in one part and a desert in another.

It was Baghdad. It was bedlam.

The 1,000,000% Toguro was there at the epicenter of the devastation. A nuke all his own. An unnatural force of nature.

An over-muscled demonized human even taller than his 100,000% version. A walking contradiction of chaos and order.

He had no skin now. He was all pure, red muscle and tendons pulsating and wriggling in every which way.

He also had six arms instead of two or four, with him towering even higher than before because he had to elongate his torso to cartoonish levels just to accommodate his extra pair of limbs.

Curious at how strong this Toguro was, Yusuke flipped the bird on Toguro with his other hand.

Yes, he had also stored another Fuck Gun on his other hand, with about the same amount of potential spiritual energy gathered for multiple weeks since he fired his first Fakku Gan at Feng Xinhai.

"FAKKU GAN!"

Again, Urameshi blasted all of his pent-up "Fuck You!" energy at Toguro by flipping him off, shooting the bolt of concentrated lightning that came out with the force of a shooting star.

Again, he outran the modified reserve Rei-Gan and came up from behind the six-armed insectoid Toguro with the intent of making sure he got hit by it.

He then attacked Toguro with both hands using the Rei-Gan and Shot Gun.

"DOUBLE-BARRELED SHOT GUN! DOUBLE BERRETTA REI-GAN!"

Those extra pair of hands on an even bigger and sturdier body made all the difference.

Two of six arms grabbed and held back the charged-for-weeks Rei-Gan. Another two of the arms parried and blocked all of Yusuke's energy-laden punches as well as the projectiles blasting through them.

This freed up the Million-Percent Toguro's two remaining hands that grabbed hold of Yusuke and pummeled him into submission.

The Younger Toguro utilized punches that carved the landscape. Made and destroyed mountains.

The kind of unnatural force of nature (as contradictory as it sounded) that could affect plate tectonics, weather patterns, or change the area forever, like in the case of Mt. St. Helens when it exploded or the nine ghost villages of France that remained wastelands to this day thanks to the Battle of Verdun in the First World War.  

If Yusuke's reiki-dense body weren't there to absorb the blows they would've shattered and sunk Okushiri right off of the map.

Even though Urameshi was breathing through his mouth, had lost several teeth, and ended up with a shattered jaw he couldn't close, he couldn't help but grin. Or at least do an open-mouthed smile.

"I'm beating you to the punch at every turn. So why is it...?" Toguro tilted his head to the side in askance. "Why do you have such a happy look on your face?"

Disturbingly, Yusuke's teeth grew back. They weren't supposed to do that but they did. Even accelerated human healing wouldn't allow the return of lost permanent teeth. All his bruises healed. All his broken bones mended themselves. His shut black eye's swelling subsided and went back to normal.

There he hung from Toguro's grip. Smiling. None the worse for wear save for torn clothes that couldn't restore themselves to their previous state.

"Come on, Toguro. You can do better than this, you son of a bitch! Gimme your best shot!"

Toguro then proceeded to smash Yusuke and his own heavenly body of a Fakku Gan together, which resulted in a mushroom cloud of pure destructive power.

Another atomic blast had hit Japan.

Toguro the Younger turned Urameshi into the atomic bomb he was afraid he had become.

***

Back at the Okushiri Pier, two things happened.

Botan, using the wealth of leftover negative energy that Kaoru purified earlier, again started healing the damage inflicted upon the available Reikai Senshi.

Kuwabara and Sanosuke stirred, as if shot by multiple doses of adrenalin.

Also, when the youkiri decided to deal with the shinigami herself to keep her from aiding her comrades, Yahiko himself confronted and attacked Tenro head on.

For all the good it did. Bless his ghostly heart.

"DOU GAMI...! (GOD ON EARTH!)" shouted Yahiko, hoping against hope it'd land on Tenro's head or sword or at least near him so that he'd get pelted by rocks and debris.

'So this is Shishio. The leader of the Juppon Gatana. Kenshin's most powerful rival,' the samurai spirit thought.

Tenro caught the reverse-edged blade between his fingers before it could make contact with him or the Mugen Jin. The God Hammer relied on recoil to give Yahiko enough space to consecutively strike something or someone three times fast in order to break their resistance and apply a zero-resistance strike.

No recoil meant the technique was neutralized.

Myojin's jaw dropped. "How...!?"

"So you're the brat who can neutralize spirit energy," said Tenro with narrowed eyes that traveled from Houji's unconscious form then all the way back to Yahiko.

Readjusting his grip of the sword tight with a gloved hand that smelled of gunpowder and negative spirit energy, Tenro again did the "GUREN KAINA!" on the blade.

The explosion blasted Myojin clear away from (presumably) Shishio, the shrapnel from his own spiritual construct of a sakabatou hitting him at the speed of bullets. His spirit fading and dissipating with pinpoints of energy.

''YAHIKO!" both Botan and Kaoru chorused in one unified body, fearing the worst.

However, the shards of Yahiko's shattered blade also penetrated Tenro's body, sealing his power further away from S-Level.

'What a problematic child this is.'

Myojin got up to his feet and charged with his broken reverse-edged blade, hoping to buy Sano and Kuwabara time. Buy Kenshin and Yusuke time as well.

He intended to do the Inga Gami on Tenro's head, only to revert to the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu ougi for Hadome and Hawatari when his opponent beat him to the punch and struck first with the Homura Dama.

However, as he defended against the downwards flaming strike with a crossed-wrist block, Tenro grappled with him and kept him from parrying the strike. "Do you want to know how your idol, Himura Battousai, died a century ago? Like this. Guren Kaina. Homura Dama."

After the explosion from the gunpowder happened, Tenro allowed the resulting fire to flare and roast the hapless ghost of Yahiko Myojin.

"AAAHH...!" screamed the burning Yahiko.

"YAHIKO!" shouted Sanosuke.

"BRAT!" yelled Kuwabara.

Tenro himself stood in the middle of the conflagration, but like in his confrontation with Hiei, he ended up none the worse for wear from the roaring bonfire.

"Too strong... He's too strong...!" gasped Yahiko. "Even after all this time, I'm still as weak as I've always been."

The bright yellow flames turned green then blue as Yahiko's form reverted to that of a hitodama (will-o'-the-wisp).

Meanwhile, Botan shrieked, fell on her knees, and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Who is stronger? A wolf in sheep's clothing or a sheep in wolf's clothing? Don't deny your true nature. Embrace what you really are. It's either you know your place or claw your way up the food chain. Evolve. Transform. Step up or step aside."

The entirety of Okushiri then started to rumble as Yahiko's neutralizing reiki ebbed away.

Like a dam that was about to break.

***

A nuke did damage in three stages.

It irradiated heat and light, it blasted everything to Kingdom Come, and it scattered radioactive materials around.

The bigger you went, the less relevant the radioactive materials became relative to the other effects as the heat irradiation had a much greater and more noticeable immediate effect. Effectively, when a nuke went off, the temperature of the resulting fireball could go up to millions of degrees, but it dissipated relatively quickly.

However, instead of having a repeat of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1993, Yusuke's dense aura (arguably going at reiatsu level at this point) allowed him to absorb most of the impact of his own Fakku Gan.

The explosion became a blockbuster level blast instead of an atomic bomb mushroom cloud.

Yusuke collapsed on the ground, taking the brunt of his own spirit energy.

Before him towered a behemoth of a demonized man. His exposed muscles bursting out of his skin. His six huge arms giving him an insect-like vibe.

This was Toguro using a million percent of his power. He had become the Demigod Asura, a six-armed demon of war and destruction.

However, even in the face of this absolute unit of a monster, something else from many miles away grabbed Urameshi's attention.

Over the horizon, he felt a suppressed Low S-Level power grow and pulse. Like a leaking and cracked dam ready to burst.

Once that dam finally burst forth, Yusuke broke all of his limits at once. Every last Spirit Cuff. Every last bit of hesitation he had from the Kugai curse placed upon him by Rando.

He caught even the Million-Percent Toguro by surprise at how fast his power level rose.

He summoned his version of the Sei Kou Ki, the golden aura serving as his barrier against Toguro's atomic punches.

His hair grew long and turned white for good measure before he proceeded to punch the Million-Percent Toguro a million times. A glowing golden punch for every percentage.

"SEI-KOU-DAN!" Yusuke cried, blasting Toguro with the Sei-Kou-Ki version of the Rei-Kou-Dan.

He had to. That dark presence in the distance sounded all of his internal alarms and red flags. His primitive flight-or-fight instinct activated.

As though feeling the rise in power from a distance spurred him into action more effectively than the golem before him that, quite frankly, took too long to get to S-Level and beyond.

Whichever Reikai Senshi was out there, they were fighting the final boss. The Chojin himself, even.

***

Botan rushed towards Yahiko's side, doing her best to heal his injured hitodama form. But the damage was extensive on his human soul, the light within his spirit fading away fast. "Hold on, Yahiko-kun! I got you! Everything's going to be fine!"

However, no matter how much spirit energy she used to heal Yahiko's damaged soul, it never healed. His hitodama continued to remain in its fireball state, flickering like a candle in the wind.

Kuwabara was the first to get up shakily on his feet, the Rei-Ken in his hand (also) flickering back and forth between its normal form and its Jigen Tou form.

"You talk too much, you bastard!" said the redhead, who attempted to create a portal to send the youkiri to space, only for Tenro to grab the teenager by his curly regent-style hair and put his face into the portal in an effort to suffocate him.

"What happened to Japan? Is this the best warriors that this new age can pony up? Pathetic," said Youkiri Tenro. "It's so sad. The United States of America turned the proud Empire of Japan into a whipped dog. An island full of losers and weirdoes."

Kuwabara ignited Tenro's glove with a small Rei-Ken on his free hand, which made it explode in the youkiri's face. Gasping for air, the redhead attempted another blind swing at the would-be dictator, only for him to end up stabbed in the lung.

He coughed blood as his eyes watered. His insides drowned in his own blood through internal bleeding.

"Sheep will always be sheep. Wolves will always be wolves. Lions will always be lions. A hitokiri will always be a hitokiri. A youkiri will always be youkiri. It's an aberration of nature to be one thing and claim to be another. If you want to become strong then change yourself for real. Defy or accept your fate. Become the predator or become the prey. It's up to you."

Ignoring the throbbing pain from his right fist that somehow trumped the ectoplasmic bleeding he got from the Rei-Shuriken, Sagara attempted a Futae no Kiwami and aimed it right into the chest of Shishio.

Or Tenro. Or the Chojin. Whoever he was or claimed to be.

Tenro tossed aside Kuwabara's quivering body like trash then blocked Sanosuke's punch with his own punch.

Last time, Sano broke his fist on Shishio's concrete face, his own Futae no Kiwami deflecting back to the bones of his hand. This time, his Douhle Extreme was enough to match Tenro's strength.

Only enough to match Tenro's strength though.

As Tenro again attempted to punch and crack Sanosuke's skull open, something unexpected happened.

"...SANJO NO KIWAMI!"

Sano blew Tenro's fist away with the Triple Extreme, which opened up his chest to a direct heart punch.

The coup de grace.

"FUTAE NO KIWAMI! DORYAAH...!"

Sanosuke landed the Futae no Kiwami right into Shishio's heart. Or Tenro's heart.

A second passed. The youkiri cackled.

"Congratulations. You're a little bit stronger now than before."

As the fading, transparent visage of Sanosuke let out a soundless scream, his pupils constricted into tiny dots on a white expanse, Tenro finally attacked the street fighter with his flame-producing weapon, its Homura Dama splitting Sano's head apart in a spectacular spray of ectoplasm.

"S-Sano..." choked out Kuwabara, his own vision fading along with Sanosuke's soul.

All that time, even in his will-o'-the-wisp form, the soul of Yahiko kept sealing the power of Youkiri Tenro. However, he couldn't contain the immense power of the Shishio reincarnation(?) any longer.

His soul finally succumbed, fading to black before shattering into a thousand pinpoints of light.

"Yahiko, no! No! NOOO!" cried Botan. "Dammit, come back! Oh no, what's going on? Why is everything going wrong?!"

Okushiri rumbled as the unleashed power of Tenro began to expand into a tall pillar of darkness and miasma. His jaki shot up into the sky, which gathered nimbus clouds all around them.

The localized quakes grew stronger and stronger. It felt like the world was about to split apart. This was the power of an Upper Class-S being that somehow ended up in the Human World.

He felt like power made flesh. A walking disaster area. A humanoid cyclone.

Tenro smirked as he surveyed the pier. He felt their presence. They were coming. He felt their power, anger, and desperation travel towards him like moths to his flame.

He could feel their strong presences, spirit energy, sword energy, and aura even from miles away.

One was on land, on foot, going faster than a cheetah. The other in the air, presumably ferried by one of Reikai's shinigami.

Who could they be?

First, there was the one half-demon, half-human mazoku descendant of Raizen, Makai's God of War, who was able to harness his demonic power and lineage. Raizen's true son. The Last Son of the Mazoku.

Yusuke Urameshi.

Second, there was the man who "defeated" Makoto Shishio to a suicidal kamikaze draw.  The Hitokiri Battousai who died and then became the Youkiri Battousai, the Guardian of the Demon Sword.

Kenshin Himura.

"Come forth. Show me the best and most powerful champions that this era has to offer. I'll defeat them all!" declared Tenro the Demon-Slayer to his upcoming opponents.

However, before Tenro knew it, his chest tightened. His heart stopped beating.

His negative energy wasn't able to heal the damage in time. He stood there, frozen. His time had stopped care of Sanosuke's efforts.

This happened due to the combination of the Futae no Kiwami and the shards of Yahiko's neutralizing reiki damaging his mortal heart. It kept him from manifesting the full breadth of his power that managed to take down even Hajime Saito.

The Kenshingumi's curse, if you would.

"Before challenging the champions of this era, watch out behind you. The past has a way of catching up with you, Shishio Makoto!"

Speaking of Saito, it was then and there that the headless corpse of Hajime Saito began moving on its own, with his one arm cradling his decapitated head.

As though he were the Headless Horseman. Or a Dullahan of Irish folklore.

That bastard. He was playing possum all this time!?

Tenro willed himself to move, but couldn't. He felt his left arm go numb. The shards of Yahiko's sakabatou might've reached all the way to his coronary arteries.

There was no telling how much cardiovascular damage Sanosuke's punch had done to his heart.

Dammit.

He began to sweat hard while clutching his chest. "Damn you, Saito Hajime."

"I've never seen you so sweaty and pathetic before," the head of Saito mocked before charging with his Gatotsu Ishiki from behind Tenro. "Then again, your sweat glands did get all burned up in your past life."

Instead of aiming at Tenro's head like with his encounter with Shishio, Saito instead aimed his sword right at Tenro's stopped heart while he was in the middle of a heart attack.

Appropriately enough, instead of being defeated by someone stronger than him, it was the desperate alliance of those weaker than Tenro that ultimately dragged him towards his ultimate defeat.

The ultimate irony.

"Go back to Hell, Shishio...!"

"No, I will make this world Hell and feel right at home!"

No. This was the same method Hajime used to "kill" Usui (temporarily). He took advantage of other people's hard work then opportunistically struck at the right time.

There was no way Youkiri Tenro would go down like a punk. Like Usui, of all people. An outsmarted weakling.

Tenro willed himself to move to block the strike.

His Homura Dama melted right through Saito's sword. Apparently, the Shinsengumi Captain was already using the last of his soul's strength to even make the strike, resulting in a vulnerable blade with barely any spirit energy to protect it.

Nevertheless, the rest of the hot blade plunged right into one of Tenro's lungs, spraying his blood all over the empty pier.

Saito smirked and closed his eyes. Instead of a solidified soul, Shishio really was reincarnated into an extra powerful human being. But a human being nonetheless. A mortal one that could be killed.

Tenro awaited the Gatotsu Zeroshiki that never came.

Alas, Saito already spent most of his energy fighting a full-powered X-Level Tenro earlier, with him sacrificing his very life force to just injure him now.

"I win again, Saito Hajime," hissed Tenro, coughing blood. "I survived your attack while you're already as good as dead. I can easily heal this damage and finish off the rest of the Reikai Senshi."

"That's my parting gift," said Saito, his own spirit fading. "You won't be able to reach X-Level in time now."

Before Tenro could wonder any further what Saito meant by his words, a gigaton punch shattered his face from out of the blue.

"Wha...?! GUAAAAH!!!"

Again, the wolf outfoxed him at every turn.

The youkiri realized that he'd just been punched by Raizen's "Son". The Mazoku Descendant. The hanyou (half-demon) that scared the great Enma Daio himself.

His brain sloshed inside his broken skull, leading to a concussion.

Any other impact from a weaker opponent wouldn't have even registered to Tenro. But a punch from an S-Level mazoku? That was a punch that could tear apart entire continents.

He also spotted from behind the long-haired, tattooed, and angry Mazoku Yusuke a warp portal that Kazuma Kuwabara probably made to shorten his best friend's travel time.

This was bad news.

His compromised heart and lungs hadn't recovered yet. Even though his energy levels were rising, his mortal damage kept him from manifesting his full power. He wasn't healing fast enough.

But this also excited him.

Tenro missed out on slaying Raizen—one of the greatest, oldest, and most powerful demons of the Demon World. Fighting his distant half-breed offspring was the next best thing to it.

With Yusuke's white hair and boundless energy, he himself looked to be at the cusp of achieving X-Level.

"Far more important than your power level, you've upended the natural order of things in both the Spirit World and the Demon World," said the gasping yet calm Tenro.

Yusuke picked up the pace, his nuclear-powered punches reaching speeds so impossibly, superhumanly fast that they came with their own eardrum-obliterating sonic booms.

However, the tough-as-nails Tenro absorbed every punch with his hard body and boundless jaki, so his mountain-obliterating punches "merely" made the pier shake and quake like a frightened child suffering domestic abuse.

"When Raizen died, you took over and found a way to keep the warring factions of Mukuro and Yomi from leading Makai into another millennia-long war for power."

Tenro gurgled but laughed with what sounded like a death rattle. Knocking at Hell's Gates with the sea of punches he had to wade through while punching and slashing at the elusive demon spawn in turn.

"You even helped expose the corruption within Reikai and had Koenma Daio depose his father, Enma Daio. Then you saved the Human World again from a Spirit World terrorist group. Imagine that."

The constant battery of kicks, punches, knees, elbows, and headbutts that barely gave Tenro any breathing room took their toll, making him cough and spew blood from many of his body's orifices, like his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth.

"The Chojin views you as a threat not because of your power level but instead of how you affect everyone and everything around you. You're a spanner in the works. Someone who can defy fate itself."

The threat of death made Tenro feel alive. His flight-or-fight instincts were on high alert.

After the thousands of demon hunts he'd participated in for the sake of turning his reincarnated yakuza boss self into someone worthy of housing Makoto Shishio's soul, this was the first time he actually, remotely felt threatened.

It was as he had imagined facing Yomi, Mukuro, or Raizen would've been like when they were still the Three Kings of Makai or at the peak of their power.

"We're cut from the same cloth, Urameshi Yusuke." Tenro sneered, wiping the blood from his nose. "I too exist to spite God. I defied my ultimate fate of death. From one lion to another, I will fight fate itself to write my own destiny. Just like you have."

"What the hell are you blathering on about?" said Yusuke, who kept up his endless barrage of Sei Kou Ki punches and kicks in order to pummel Tenro to submission.

Although he was winning the exchange, Toushin Yusuke's fists ended up aching and bleeding.

They might've even been broken by the dense thickness of Tenro's own reiatsu of negative energy serving as a barrier from inside and outside him, keeping his human body intact in spite of this mauling.

Regardless, the human-demon spawn had to finish Tenro off immediately.

Even though Urameshi was able to best Toguro by going all out, he could still feel his old enemy's presence. The Younger Toguro could still reemerge and possibly go beyond a million percent of his power. Perhaps a billion or a trillion even.

"Let's end this, Tenro. Or Shishio. Or Chojin. Whoever you are.  I'll finish you and your Shin Juppon Gatana off for good! SEI-GAN!"

A black-and-blue Tenro grinned as he felt a meteor-sized blast of purest Sei Kou Ki grow bigger and bigger from Yusuke's pointer finger. A miniature sun that glowed gold instead of bright blue.

This was the correct move. In order to finally penetrate through Tenro's reiatsu, Yusuke had to use his ultimate, ultimate move. A Rei-Gan powered by Sei-Kou-Ki shot by his white-haired demonic form.

However, the Chojin foresaw all this. This was why he gave (back) Tenro his original Mugen Jin.

When Yahiko still had his neutralizing reiki activated, the Mugen Jin could only be used the way it originally was made for, which was to create flames through the body fat and human oils it collected.

However, a hundred years later, the sword itself became a cursed sword with supernatural powers like the Youtou Shinnoken. It gained an extra property.

Without Yahiko's powers sealing its supernatural abilities away, it could absorb, steal, store, and release the spirit energy of others.

Thus, Tenro's Mugen Jin absorbed every last bit of the Sei-Gan from Mazoku Yusuke, only for him to do the third secret sword on him powered by Urameshi's own Sacred Light Spirit Energy.

"Secret Sword Three: KAGUZUCHI! (FIRE-BEARING SPIRIT GOD!)"

A fire tornado that mixed Tenro's demonic negative energy reiatsu with Yusuke's angelic sacred energy tossed the teenaged warhead around in a maelstrom of malcontent (since jaki was basically just energy derived from humanity's hatred and grudges).

If the mixture of volatile energy didn't kill the demonized Urameshi, then the centrifugal force of an F5 hurricane that would normally turn any normal human being into liquefied butter would.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu Ougi: AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI! (HEAVENS GLIDING DRAGON FLASH!)"

The void created by the ultimate attack of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu destroyed the red, black, and gold wind funnel that had threatened to rage against Okushiri like a seasonal typhoon.

As a battered Yusuke fell from the sky, an erstwhile Kenshin jumped and caught him in midair before he could've crashed into one of the many cargo containers, if not outright fall into the hard concrete below.

They landed safely on ground zero of Yusuke's fight with Tenro, which was filled with craters and debris. From a distance, they could hear the blaring siren of many an ambulance.

"I came here as fast as I could with Ayame-dono's help," said Kenshin.

"K-Kenshin. S-Sorry. I-I almost had him, but he still had a trick up his sleeve," rasped Yusuke, who had transformed back to his human form, with most of his long hair burned away by Tenro's Kaguzuchi.

"Don't worry, Yusuke. I will finish off what you have started. What everyone had started, that I will," said Himura.

Tenro harrumphed, clutching his side. His chest still ached, his heart beating so fast it felt like it could explode. His brain throbbed and pounded inside his skull as well.

However, his adrenalin and his thrill for the fight coursed through his body, making him ignore every bit of pain he felt. He was about to pass the point of no return, after all.

In the corner of Kenshin's eye, he saw Botan stare at him with her own glistening eyes. He had heard the bad news directly from her care of the Spirit Communicator. She reported that the souls of Sanosuke, Yahiko, and Saito were no more. Also, Kuwabara was in critical condition.

They all fell against the hands of the man... the monster... before him. The wannabe dictator that he should've defeated a hundred years ago.

"I also look forward to fighting you again after all this time, Battousai. Come and die in my hands once more. The only law I follow is Survival of the Fittest. Only the strongest survive!"

"Survival of the Fittest, eh?" asked Kenshin. "Tell me, do you know what the first sign of human civilization is? How humanity became the most dominant species on earth?"

"...What?" asked Tenro in turn. "What are you talking about, Battousai?"

"I believe that the first sign of civilization is a femur that's been broken and then healed," said Himura. "In nature, a broken leg meant death. Kill or killed, right? Humans became the dominant species against stronger animals because of our cooperation and compassion. Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts. We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilized."

"No. Nonsense," said Tenro. "Humanity stands on the shoulders of giants. Normal people are trash. Don't let the weak punish the strong for being strong while they themselves drown in their own mediocrity. Civilization or progress came about because of the strong. The exceptional. The best. The intellectuals. The Superman. The Overman. The Ubermensch. The Chojin."

"So you're the Chojin, huh?" said Himura. While it could be translated as "Overfiend", the name "Chojin" could also be translated as "Superman" or "Overman".

"The fates conspired against me and denied me my destiny to rule. I will write my own destiny now," said the youkiri to his fellow demon-slayer. Fellow manslayer, even.

"Regardless of what you say, both fate and time have already decided that you will not emerge victorious," Kenshin insisted. "You're destined to lose."

Tenro cackled. "Fate and time have chosen poorly, hence the pathetic state of Japan. The state of the world that's being led by sheep in wolves' clothing. Let me correct that century-old mistake. Even now, the weak are depending on your strength to protect them. Let the Ubermensch show the world what it's truly like to be strong! I will show them how to win!"

"It is neither the strongest of the species nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is most adaptable to change," said Kenshin, quoting Charles Darwin himself as he fell into his battoujutsu stance.

Himura had to attack now, while Tenro was injured and recuperating. He would've attacked sooner, but he himself had barely recovered from battling Enishi.

As soon as the Shishio reincarnation healed and achieved X-Level, it was all over for the Reikai Senshi.

"AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI!"

"KAGUZUCHI!"

Kenshin and Tenro—or rather, Battousai and Shishio—finally clashed swords, the Youtou Shinnoken glowing bright-blue against the bright-red Mugen Jin. They picked up where they left off.

On one hand, Yusuke's leftover sacred energy powered up the Kaguzuchi and overwhelmed the initial strike of the Hirameki. On the other hand, the resulting void still formed, which multiplied the power of Kenshin's second strike many times over.

Tenro learned from his mistakes, understanding a century ago that there was a void formed after blocking the first strike of the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki. He sunk his stance low and pierced his Mugen Jin in the eye of the maelstrom so that his technique could be magnified in power instead of Kenshin's.

Kenshin hesitated, his soul remembering how Shishio snatched a draw from the jaws of defeat. He willed himself to slash upward regardless as an image of Kaoru filled his mind. Followed by all his friends and comrades.

He wished the same image had filled his mind a hundred years ago too. Then he wouldn't have died against Shishio.

Reality seemed to split from the lightspeed slash Kenshin did that clashed hard against Tenro's... no, Shishio's... red-hot cursed sword Mugen Jin.

On Kenshin's left was one timeline and on his right was another.

In one timeline, Kenshin found the strength and will to live to block Shishio's strike before he spontaneously combusted and died from overheating. Soon after, Shishio became the new King of Hell.

In another timeline, Shishio finished Battousai off then murdered Saito, Shinomori, Sagara, and the rest of the Oniwabanshu and Shinsengumi before forming a New Juppon Gatana and leading a coup d'etat against the Meiji Government. A second Bakumatsu. Afterwards, he died a despot. Japan's Genghis Khan.

In the timeline they were in, Kenshin and Shishio fought to a draw, with Kenshin dying along with Shishio in a blaze of glory. A hundred years after their fateful battle, Shishio ended up forming a New Juppon Gatana in order to lead a coup d'etat against the Spirit World.

In nearly all timelines, Shishio woke up from beyond the grave and ended up with an army of the undead, leading the charge towards world domination. Like a phoenix reborn from its own ashes. Again and again.

Even after his death, he was inevitable.

Would Kenshin falter like a hundred years ago or would he rise up and correct his century-old mistake? Which timeline would prevail?

A shining star of a whirling convergence of afterimages happened afterwards, followed by a huge explosion far into the distance. Right into the Sea of Japan.

A 7.8 earthquake then rocked the west coast of Hokkaido.  

On Monday, July 12, 1993, at 10:17 PM, a tsunami had formed off of the coast of Okushiri, leading to the loss of many lives.

***

To Be Continued...

Oh god, finally it's done. This took years to finish due to real-life things cropping up. Regardless, the arc that's been decades in the making is at last over.

Next up, the Spirit World deals with the aftermath of the failed Okushiri mission. Also, the first sign of civilization speech was taken from a quote from Anthropologist Margaret Mead.

Ciao, Abdiel

[vlindervin7]

“22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss” for Davenzi.

From this prompt list! Not my best work and also too long to be a drabble but! i hope it’s a little enjoyable at least! 

basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss 

The first time David meets Matteo he’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a moment. It’s a windy October afternoon when he goes to meet Leonie at their favorite coffeeshop. His shoulders ache with the weight of his backpack. He’s a bit grumpy, tired from class after class after class, his ears sizzling. He’s excited to see Leonie, though. She’ll hopefully be able to snap him out of his mood and make him laugh. 

When he arrives, he sees a group of boys with their backs to him, but no Leonie, which is weird because she’s never late and it’s already five minutes over the decided time. He’s just about to take his phone to send her a message, when he hears his name being called. There, from behind her hiding spot in front of the boys, Leonie steps and calls his attention. David loves how tiny she is. 

Once he stands next to her and gives her a quick hug, she turns away from him and gestures to the boys in front of her. ‘These are friends I went to school with. I’ve told you about Jonas, my ex.’ She points to a curly-haired boy who offers him a warm, albeit sheepish smile. ‘Carlos, Abdi’, both of which give him a goofy one, ‘and that’s Matteo, Jonas’ best friend.’ And oh. 

The boy, Matteo, is possibly the most beautiful person David has ever seen, and as an artist, he spends most of his time collecting beautiful things. Matteo has messy blond hair that’s blown back by the wind, and eyes that make David want to find a way to press the ocean into a pencil, a cute button nose above a pair of soft-looking pink lips. There’s this one song that plays sometimes at his job at the student’s common room I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss and it’s the only thing coming to his mind right now. It’s a sappy thought, and a ridiculous one that would ruin his whole entire tough exterior, so he dismisses it immediately, but it still lingers at the back of his mind. 

He tries to nod at the boys in what he hopes is a collected manner. Matteo gives him a small smile, but so sweet and David can’t handle this. 

‘We were just telling Leonie about the party at Carlos’ place tomorrow’, Jonas says, finally pulling David’s attention away from Matteo. ‘You can totally come too if you want!’ 

David hesitates for a second. He has so much work to do, but he has to admit a party would do him good. He might see Matteo again, too, this way, but that’s definitely not why he answers: ‘Yeah, maybe. That sounds cool, thanks.’ 

Not soon after, the boys go on their way and Leonie and David get that coffee they’ve been wanting since they woke up. 

The next day David dresses nice and heads over to Carlos’ place with Leonie and Sara. They soon get lost in their weird flirting and don’t even notice when David slips away and finds himself in the bathroom with the boys he met yesterday, smoking a joint and trying not to stare at Matteo too much. He has a surprisingly good time, the boys easy company, never making David feel left out. At the end of the night, he leaves the party slightly drunk and still a bit high, having been added to the ok.cool group chat, which he knows will both make him laugh and give him a headache, with four new friends. And maybe a crush, too, but that’s not what is important here. 

***

They all grow very close, very quickly. As swiftly as the boys had added him to their group chat, just as swiftly they’d accepted David as one of their own. They hang out, and meet at one of their apartments to play video games and eat kebabs, to smoke sometimes. They go to more parties, hang out in parks, coming up with crazy ping pong tournaments that last hours. 

He even goes as far as telling them he’s trans when talk of high school comes up one day, and they eventually asked David for input. They take it well. Some stupid question are asked, but all with good intention, and none offensive. 

Sometimes, he hangs out with just Matteo, too, and it definitely does not lessen his attraction. He learns more about him and starts to trust him with secrets of his own. Their conversations are often light, but they always feel important, never feel unnecessary. It turns into one of David’s favorite things to do. 

He finds out Matteo is gay, which his brain is having a field day with, that he studies programming at uni and that he’s crazy smart even though he tends to underestimate himself and downplay it, that he has a complicated relationship with his mother but that he loves her more than anything, and that he’s quite possibly the cutest person David has ever met. 

They’re having a movie night at Matteo’s flatshare, watching some Hollywood blockbuster David could drag through the mud if he were in the right mood. He’s not about to ruin it for everyone, though, and he does m anage to just enjoy himself sometimes. It’s a nice night. Hans and Linn join them after a while, and they bring them more snacks. David’s met them a few times in passing before, but he’s never really spent time with them, but unsurprisingly they turn out to be equally lovely as everyone else he’s met through these people. 

When the movie is over, no one moves, too content to sit there and be stupid. They play some silly drinking games with shitty beer that won’t actually get any of them properly drunk, although David does start to feel slightly tipsy after a while. 

Abdi is just telling some complicated story when David looks to his right, having forced himself to stop stealing glances at Matteo every two seconds as it would soon become glaringly obvious, and notices Matteo has dozed off. He’s laying on the sofa’s headrest, a light blanket covering his legs. He looks so peaceful, much to David’s confusion. He’d never be able to fall asleep that deeply with this much noise around. 

Jonas must see him looking, because he leans closer to David, making his voice clearer over Abdi’s passionate story telling. ‘Luigi can fall asleep everywhere. Once when we were smaller, he’d invited me to one of his cousin’s wedding. I lost him after a while, but then when everyone was dancing in the evening, I found him behind one of the buffet tables, fast asleep. He’d made his suit jacket into a pillow and didn’t seem to mind the party around him in the least.’ 

David laughs imagining a tiny Matteo being fed up with everything and just deciding to make himself a makeshift bed. He must have been even cuter back then, as hard as that is to imagine. ‘I can’t relate.’ 

Jonas looks down at Matteo with an amount of open softness he’s rarely seen, and adjusts the blanket a bit, and with a laugh says: ‘Yeah, me neither. He’ll probably wake up here tomorrow morning wondering what happened.’

Looking at Matteo like this, so peaceful and serene, there’s an undeniable urge building inside David to just reach out and. Comb through his hair, kiss his forehead, cuddle up to him, convinced he’d feel warmer than ever just being close to him.

He shakes those thoughts off, focuses back on Abdi. It’s weird, he tells himself, to think of a friend in that way without their consent. Or maybe it isn’t and David is just too much of a coward to act on his feelings, for fear of rejection and the possibility of losing this group of people, knowing they’d pick Matteo’s side if it came down to it. 

***

They’re at another party, which this time one of Leonie’s friends is throwing. The boys are here, too, but he’d told them he wouldn’t have that much time to hang out this time as he’d be hired as Leonie’s official wingman. Her and Sara are finally starting to get somewhere in their relationship, but it just won’t actually take off and Leonie’s getting frustrated. She’d decided this would be the night she’d finally kiss her and David would help her with it. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to do so, but he was sure Leonie had some sort of plan so he didn’t question it. 

When the boys had heard about the plan, they’d laughed. David hadn’t understood at first, why everyone but Matteo seemed to be dying of laughter, and Matteo was so red, until they’d explained about him dating Sara before coming out and how it all been very awkward. They were on better terms now, but Matteo still seemed to regret the way he’d strung her along. 

David is standing under the fluorescent lights now, talking to a girl he vaguely knows from school. Leonie had disappeared a while ago. He’s still on the lookout for her, but she’s so tiny he has a hard time finding her. He’s holding a half-empty cup with liquor that’s slowly having an effect on his body and he can’t quite hear everything the girl is saying, but enough to understand he’s not super interested. He’s polite, though, so he keeps listening. 

On the other side of the room, Matteo is talking to Carlos, having a much more interesting conversation it seems, as they keep bursting out in laughter. Every few minutes, Matteo catches David’s eye and offers him a smile, lighting drunken sparks in David’s stomach. 

He’s desperately trying to look at least a little bit interested and not lost in the boy on the other side of the room, but it’s not working very well, he has to say. He’s never felt like this before, never had someone he just wanted to spend all his time looking at, someone that made something burn under his skin, an itch that told David to touch.

He manages to keep himself under control until the music switches and he sees Matteo do the silliest, smallest little dance David has ever had the pleasure to see, and something snaps. Everything inside him is screaming to walk over there and push Matteo against the wall, gently box him in with his arms and -- 

He excuses himself from the conversation, renewing his efforts to find Leonie. He comes across a shots table on his way and does two in quick succession, trying to feel the music only and get lost in it, banishing images of blue eyes and silly smiles out of his head. It doesn’t really work, but at least he has a good time and gets to third wheel Leonie and Sara at the coffee shop now.  

***

Matteo is being annoying. Well David isn’t sure if annoying is necessarily the best word to use as, really, David isn’t actually annoyed, and has never been with Matteo. He’s just being silly, but it’s so endearing David can’t help but smile when he tells him to stop. 

They’re watching a movie, on his bed, just the two of them, which is already reason for David to freak out a litte. He’d picked the movie of course, something he was required to watch for his course, and thought he’d make more interesting by sharing it with Matteo. It works, but while he’s having a better time altogether, he’s also not really paying attention, so it proves a less than effective plan.

Matteo keeps fidgeting first of all, which David doesn’t mind. He can deal with that, and he knows it’s just something Mattoe does sometimes, to concentrate better or because there’s some kind of energy inside him he doesn’t know how to get rid of otherwise. At first, it was just that, but then he’d started poking David and shifting the computer and making very dramatic sighing noises when ‘nothing happened’. He’s clearly bored and wants David to pay him more attention, but David refuses to give in so soon, no matter how hard is whole body is screaming for him to. He needs to keep up some kind of facade. 

It’s not long before he can’t take it anymore, though. Matteo is poking him in the side now, sending stupid sparks through David’s stomach, and okay, he hasn’t heard what’s been said for ten minutes now, there’s no use continuing this. 

He hits the space bar and turns around, trying to feign annoyance. ‘Oh, my God, Matteo, what?’ 

He shakes his head softly when he sees Matteo sitting there with his big eyes and that grin on his face, looking to anyone like a devilish little angel. His hair is a mess and his cheeks are a bit pink, but David is afraid his are, too. His eyes are so blue. ‘I’m bored.’ 

The thing is that David can’t even blame him. He should be able to get all the important nuances in the movie, but even he thinks they could’ve added something to make it more interesting. 

‘What do you want me to do about that?’, he answers, tilting his head and smiling just a little bit because he can’t help it. 

‘Entertain me.’ 

David lifts his eyebrows and looks at Matteo for about ten seconds and then they’re play fighting. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but when he can help it David tends to avoid it because it’s a lot to feel Matteo all over him like that. He can forget about in the midst of the fighting when he gets too competitive. That’s not a problem. He always wins, though, and that is a bit of a problem. 

He has Matteo on his back, hands above his head and hair splayed out around him. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, and his cheeks are still pink. Their bodies are pressed together, too much for David to relax. They’re so close David can smell Matteo’s deodorant.

God. 

The things he’d do to him like this if he could. He’d bend down, pressing him deeper into the mattress, before kissing him and --

They’re still staring at each other without saying anything, and the heat is suddenly just on the right side of uncomfortable and David has to get out. 

‘I need to pee.’ 

He scrambles from the bed as fast as he can, and he just has the time to get a glimpse of Matteo’s face, who perhaps looks a little disappointed, but David’s sure that’s just his own feelings being projected. 

He forces himself to calm down in the bathroom before coming back out. When he does Matteo is sitting on the bed. ‘You can continue watching. I’ll be quiet, I promise.’ David normally loves how soft Matteo’s voice is, but he thinks it’s just a little bit too soft right now. It almost sounds a bit sad, and David hates to think he might be the cause of it, acting as shifty as he is. 

He gives him a real smile this time, putting everything in it, no holding back. He climbs back on the bed, putting the laptop in-between the two of them, trying to be subtle about it. ‘Are you sure? We can watch something else, I know it’s not the most interesting.’ 

But Matteo vehemently shakes his head at that suggestion. ‘No, no, watch.’ He takes a look at his phone, before turning back to David. ‘Actually, are you hungry? I could make us some pasta or something?’

David’s heard about his pasta-making skills, from the boy himself, but also from their friends. Even Leonie and Amira had attested to it, which is proof enough for David. ‘Yeah, sure. That would be nice.’ 

‘Okay’, Matteo jumps up, with enthusiasm he doesn’t often show. ‘You watch your movie, I’ll be back.’ 

David settles in, turning the movie back about ten minutes and pays real attention this time. 

When Matteo comes back with two steaming plates, there’s only about twenty minutes left. Matteo settles in next to him and keeps quiet until the very end, all the while looking a mixture of cocky and embarrassed whenever David compliments the pasta. 

This time, David wants to kiss him for another reason entirely.

***

It all comes to a head one night. David should have seen it coming, should’ve known one day he wouldn’t be able to hide it all anymore. 

He used to deal with his problems by running away, and in a way that’s still what he’s doing, except it’s not as effective because there’s something about Matteo that just won’t let him leave all the way. Like an invisible string pulling him back in when he gets too far. 

He doesn’t even want to run from him, is the thing, and he’s not strong enough to force himself to like he usually is. Too scared to jump into the water, too weak to leave the cliff he’s standing on, so now he’s just looking out over the edge into Matteo’s ocean eyes, poisoning the breeze on his skin and in the end not only hurting himself, but hurting Matteo, too, every time he acts distant.  

He’s stuck, though, can’t move, no matter how much he wants to, feels that he’s overstaying his welcome where he is. 

It’s the two of them again, which has been happening more and more the longer their friendship lasts. They’ve come to be referred to as matteoanddavid by their friends, which David doesn’t mind, although it does unfurl something hot in his stomach, that tells him it’s not enough, both what he’s doing and what they are. 

They’re playing video games this time, and Matteo has just taken out the weed. It’s getting worse, is the thing. At first, David would get overwhelmed with the urge to touch when Matteo did something particularly cute, said something sweet, something funny. He was able to ignore it then, mostly, still able to look away when he felt it coming up. He can’t anymore. 

It’s come to the point where everything Matteo does, is reason for David’s insides to riot. He’s not even doing anything, just lighting the joint between his lips and setting up Mario Kart, but David is already panicking. 

It’s too hot, too much, too little. He can’t do this today. 

It feels wrong fishing his phone out of his pocket, pretending to read a message on the screen. Feels awful, painful almost, turning to Matteo and telling him his sister needs him and he needs to go now. He hates lying to him, that sweet boy who’s never hurt David in any way he could control, but whom David keeps pushing away, keeps on being the reason his smile slips and his eyes lose some of their light. 

He’s up before he has the time to take in everything about Matteo’s reaction, and is already in his hat and shoes, with jacket in hand in the hallway when Matteo joins him. 

‘David, wait. Please, wait.’

David inhales, exhales, clutches his jacket tightly between his fingers and turns around to face him. ‘Yeah?’

For a moment, Matteo doesn’t speak, just stands there looking a little bit sad and a lot beautiful. ‘Why are you avoiding me?’ He says, then, finally, and lets out a breath of air right after like just saying those words took a lot out of him. 

David hates that he can’t stop lying. ‘Avoiding you -- Matteo, I really need to go.’ 

‘God, David, I’m not that stupid. I can tell when someone doesn’t want to spend time with me.’ And that’s officially enough to make David break character, at least a little bit because he’ll do anything before he’ll let someone call Matteo stupid, especially he himself.

‘You’re not stupid at all, Matteo.’ 

‘Then why are you acting like I won’t see what you’re doing?’ He doesn’t quite sound choked up, but there’s a thread of breath running through his voice, so fragile David thinks it’ll break if he moves, so he stands very still. 

Matteo’s always been so brave. God, he -- 

He’s too scared to take the plunge and let Matteo know how he’s feeling, because he doesn’t want to lose him, doesn’t want to feel that rejection. He’s been slowly losing him this way, too, though, and suddenly he can’t stand hurting him anymore. He’d rather be hurting himself because Matteo turns him down, which he’ll do gently, he knows this if nothing else, than to have to hurt Matteo cruelly, the only way he knows how to.

So. He hangs the jacket back in its place. He takes a breath. Looks into the gentle waves in Matteo’s eyes. ‘Do you know what basorexia means?’ 

Matteo frowns at that, understandably. David would roll his eyes at himself in his place. ‘What?’ 

‘It means -- ‘ He takes another breath. ‘It means ‘the overwhelming desire to kiss’.’ 

Matteo’s still frowning in confusion, but there’s something else in his eyes now, too, a spark of something lighter, hope or something close enough. ‘Okay?’

David looks just right of Matteo’s face when he says what comes next, like not clearly seeing his reaction might lessen the blow. ‘It means I want to kiss you. It means I like you and sometimes you do things that make me want to kiss you, but I can’t, so I leave because I’m scared and overwhelmed.’

Silence. David dares shifting his eyes a millimeter to the left, just enough to look at Matteo, and then when he sees he looks. Happy? straight at him. He’s blinking rapidly and rubbing his face with one hand. ‘You want to kiss me?’, he asks, and this time a smile is breaking through the clouds of David’s fears. 

David nods.

It’s quiet again for a moment. And then: ‘Why don’t you?’

David can’t have heard that right. ‘What?’ 

‘You heard me.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ Because he has to be sure. 

‘It means I want you to kiss me, you dumbass! I like you, too.’ 

He’s been waiting months for this, holding it all in, so now that he’s allowed, it’s impossible to keep his body from rapidly going to stand right in front of Matteo. They’re both giggling at this point, which doesn’t make for the best circumstances when David puts one hand on Matteo’s cheek and the other on his neck, and kisses him. 

There’s no fireworks or eruption of golden light beneath his eyelids. Matteo’s lips are chapped against his and the giggling hinders them from doing anything serious. But it’s perfect. It’s perfect because it’s them and as simple as it is, it might be the best thing David’s ever experienced. He doesn’t want to ever stop, doesn’t think he can physically get himself to right now. 

He’s still giggling when they pull back, and he buries his face in Matteo’s shoulder, wanting to feel him as close to him as possible. ‘You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that’, he says against it. 

‘I’ve wanted to since Leonie introduced us at that coffee shop. I thought you were the most handsome boy I’d ever met.’ 

David looks up again, not laughing anymore, but overcome with too many feelings to name them all. Matteo had once told him he always feels like his chest is overflowing with emotions and that sometimes it’s easier to just shut it all off by smoking or drinking or sleeping, because sometimes it’s so much he can’t think. David wonders if this is how he feels like then, and it makes him want him even more because it’s been three minutes and David is already at his limit. 

He pulls Matteo in, kissing him again, properly this time, putting it all in that kiss. The ocean water is warm all around him and he doesn’t need to breathe, doesn’t think he’ll ever need to breathe again as long as he has this.

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Farfetch’d line

Sometimes a Pokemon is designed to be a playable thing, but just doesn’t mesh right and so winds up a bit weak. Sometimes a Pokemon’s designed to be an interesting early game choice that caps out fast and stops being useful late game. And sometimes some jackass in Vermillion City scams you into trading a perfectly usable Spearow for a useless duck that’s only useful as dinner that you can’t even eat.

DESIGN:  

Paradoxically, the worst part of Farfetch’d is that is design is SO COOL.  Farfetch’d has huge wing-hands and a leek weapon so despite just being a duck it looks like it’ll kick your ass. Farfetch’d looks like something that would stare down a Legendary and insist he’s got this, and then somehow actually pull it off. Farfetch’d is awesome. So why is this a problem? Because it can’t put its money where its mouth is. It looks badass, but it sucks. Usually you can tell how strong a Pokemon is roughly by how it looks. Farfetch’d looks like the hero, but it’s a total zero. Galarian Farfetch’d is basically the same design, but with an even bigger leek. Also it’s darker. On the one hand, I’m disappointed that there’s not much more interesting about it, but on the other hand, why mess with a good thing? Galarian Farfetch’d just looks like a slower, stronger Farfetch’d using a big two-handed weapon.

And then we’ve got Sirfetch’d. Now, overall, I do like Sirfetch’d’s design. Its leek is grown larger, cut into sword and shield, and it wields them as a proper knight. It stands upright straight and tall, and is pure white, looking less like a scrappy badass and now like a proper hero. My big problem with Sirfetch’d is actually a symptom of my problem with the line as a whole: its coloration and stance make it look like an evolution for the Johtonian Farfetch’d (not Kantonian- there’s no wild population there), not the Galarian one.  Galar’s Farfetch’d are clearly two-handed power attack builds, while Johtonian Farfetch’d could easily go from one-handed sword to sword and board.

EVOLUTIONS: 

 Johtonian Farfetch’d doesn’t evolve at all. Its a single form Pokemon. Single form Pokemon are really only interesting late game. Otherwise they’re picked up and quickly discarded. Farfetch’d is the poster child for this. In Red and Blue, you have to trade a Spearow for it. The issue is, it’s worse than Fearow, and by the time you get the opportunity to trade for it, you can easily just have a Fearow. Farfetch’d really needed an evolution. There was one in an early version of Gold and Silver called Madame, but honestly, it’s stupid looking and I’m not unhappy it got cut. Here’s an artist’s rendering of Madame thanks to Dr. Lava. I get it, but it’s not worth it. 

Galarian Farfetch’d evolves into Sirfetch’d after landing three critical hits in a single battle. This is... weird and silly, but actually entirely reasonable to do. If you equip a Leek and use an attack with a heightened critical hit chance, the real difficulty’s just finding something that survives the three crits. My big issue here is that, as far as I know, nowhere in the game do they TELL you this is how to do it. I get that some pokemon evolutions are more mysterious than others, but as things tend to die from being critically hit multiple times, it’s unlikely for someone to find this without looking it up online. Pokemon’s got a lot of evolution methods like this, and frankly, it just needs to stop.

But my biggest issue is that I don’t see why we even needed Galarian Farfetch’d. Farfetch’d could’ve just evolved into Sirfetch’d. Maybe make it Normal/Fighting to suggest that it can no longer fly because it’s got its big weapons now but it’s still the same bird. Instead, it feels like they gave us a new Farfetch’d just to justify its evolution, but we didn’t need a new Farfetch’d and now this just means the old one STILL can’t evolve. Now, this isn’t to say I don’t like it when forms get their own evolutions. Cursola’s a really cool thing that wouldn’t have made sense coming from a classic Corsola, and Obstagoon coming from Galarian Zigzagoon feels more like ���what if we do this instead of making its pre-evolutions” and less like “Hey, let’s make a new final Zigzagoon form.”  And of course Perrserker and Runerigus are just too heavy variant from the classics to share a name. But Sirfetch’d here feels like Johtonian Farfetch’d is getting cheated out of the evolution it deserves. 

I’ve got mixed feelings on Mr. Rime, too, but we’ll get there when we get there.

TYPING:  Farfetch’d is a Normal/Flying, which is too common, especially in Red and Blue. With two immunities, two resistances, and three weaknesses, it’s fine, but Normal’s not supereffective against anything and Flying only hits three types and is resisted by three, so it’s not very useful offensively. Also, there’s just way too many straight up better Normal/Flying Pokemon. Like the Fearow you had to give up to get a Farfetch’d. Sirfetch’d is pure fighting, so three weakensses, three resistances, and a lot of interactions offensively. On the plus side, five things are weak to fighting. On the minus, five resist and one’s immune. This is a problem for pure fighting type Pokemon. It’s not really a great type to be. STATS:  Farfetch’d suuuuuuucks.

We’re looking at a FULLY EVOLVED Pokemon here with a stat total of 377. Its highest is 90 attack which, sure, is pretty alright, but the rest of its stats range from 52-62.  And that’s after a later generation buff. In the early games its attack was only 65.  Let me remind you that Fearow, which you had to not get to get a Farfetch’d, has its lowest stat at 61 and the same 90 attack. It’s just better.

I don’t want to too often discuss how a Pokemon’s problem is another overshadowing it, but it’s so important with Farfetch’d because it was originally an in-game trade, and it was an in-game trade that was just a bad deal. But even otherwise, Farfetch’d is pretty rare in any game its in, wheras Spearow are a dime a dozen. And Fearow’s still got three Normal/Flying types in gen 1 that are just better than it. Farfetch’d is really, really bad and deserves an evolution. Galarian Farfetched has near identical stats (+5 attack, -5 speed) but... it evolves.  And SIrfetch’d has 135 attack. The rest of its stats aren’t great- its speed is a bit low, and its defenses average out to about average, but 135 more attack than a Machamp, and 65 Speed is still faster than one. It’s more fragile, sure, but it’s a tradeoff.

ABILITIES: Farfetch’d has the usless Keen Eye, but both Defiant and Inner Focus are solid abilities, and both of them prevent the effects of Intimidate, which is helpful on a physical attacker.  If Farfetch’d had an evolution, I could see suggesting either, with Defiant better for higher speeds. But Farfetch’d is just a useless waste of space, so moving on. Sirfetch’d has Steadfast and Scrappy. Steadfast increases its speed when an opponent makes it flinch, which is fine but not what we care about.  Scrappy allows Sirfetch’d to use Fighting (and Normal) attacks on Ghost Pokemon, which gets rid of its easiest potential roadblock. Sure, there’s still plenty of things that resist Fighting type, but getting rid of an immunity is useful... even if Sirfetch’d learns plenty of Dark moves to cover that anyway. ITEMS: Most of the time I’m not going to talk about items, but it’s important to note that the Leek item raises the Farfetch’d line’s critical hit ratio by two stages. That means a 50% chance to score a critical hit on all attacks, or a 100% chance to crit with any high-crit move.   As a critical hit deals 1.5x damage and normally has a 4% chance to fire, this is roughly a 23% damage boost on all your moves. It’s not as much as a Life Orb or Choice Band, but it doesn’t come with a drawback, and critical hits ignore Light Screen, Reflect, +Defense, and -Attack, with the last one meaning Leek gives some Intimidate resistance.

MOVES: 

I’m not really going to talk about Farfetch’d’s moves here. There’s no reason to use Farfetched in a real battle.

Sirfetch’d signature move, Meteor Assault, is as strong as Hyper Beam, but is a physical fighting move. ... But Sirfetch’d can also learn Close Combat and despite the lower damage, taking a defense hit is far less terrifying than skipping a turn in a competetive battle.  Killing something with Meteor Assault is an invitation to be taken down by a Psychic attack. With Close Combat you can at least switch out. After that is the question of coverage, of which Sirfetch’d doesn’t really have many options. With STAB Meteor Assault having a base power of effectively 180, it’s generally ‘fine’ even when the opponent is resistant.  Still, Sirfetch’d has options for other moves, such as... First Impression:  One of very few Pokemon that learn this, First Impression is a powerful, high-priority Bug move. Its primary purpose is to kill fast but fragile Pokemon that could revenge-kill Sirfetch’d, especially psychic types like Alakazam. Knock Off: Almost every competitive Pokemon uses an item, so if you’re not about to get your day ruined by Acrobatics, Knock Off is a 97 power move that messes with your opponent’s strategy. 

Defog: Sirfetch’d just learns Defog. It doesn’t do much with it’s strategy and it’s a slow pokemon, but sometimes you just need to Defog. Swords Dance: You all know I love Sword’s Dance. It’s not as good on Sirfetch’d as it doesn’t have the defenses to set up or the speed to sweep, but it’s still worth noting. Leaf Blade: I really want to recommend this as a 90 power attack that always crits if used with a Leek, but... it only hits two of the things that resist Close Combat, and First Impression is just better for Psychic opponents.  Brave Bird:  Not single type resists both Close Combat and Brave Bird, and Brave Bird is very strong. Yes, it hits you back with a lot of recoil, but you can afford recoil if the other Pokemon’s down. Poison Jab: Poison Jab is supereffective against Bug and Fairy types, both of which resist Close Combat.  Sirfetch’d can also learn Sunny Day and Solar Blade, but that’s basically just being cute and not something I’d recommend except for fun. An ideal moveset for Sirfetch’d probably includes Close Combat, Brave Bird, and First Impression, with the last move based on the needs of your team.  OVERALL:  Sirfetch’d fills me with the same annoyance that I’ve gotten from Pokemons Crystal, Emerald, Platinum, and Ultra Sun/Moon. Yes, I love that they added an evolution to Farfetch’d. I appreciate everything about Sirfetch’d as a Pokemon... but MY Farfetch’d can’t evolve? I have to go out and get an entirely new Farfetch’d that’s 90% the same so I can get this expanded better version? You can’t just sell me some Farfetch’d DLC like an item that makes Farfetch’d evolve when you trade it, or make it so Farfetch’d could just evolve the whole time? And Sword and Shield’s willing to do that- Leafeon is just Leaf Stone now, and I could get an Eevee and a Leaf Stone back in Blue.

Is Sirfetch’d good content? Sure. He’s got solid stats, some interesting moves that can be hard to come by, and the ability to hit ghosts. But for a game where you can trade Pokemon from generation to generation, it feels like a huge cop out that Sirfetch’d comes from this new, not-actually-interesting “Galarian Farfetch’d” and our classic Farfetch’d is STILL a useless pile of junk that I traded a perfectly good Spearow for. 

Have I mentioned before that I love how Isle of Armor and Crown Tundra are just DLC instead of a brand new version of the game? Because that’s the best. Anyway, the point is, I want my Spearow back. It’s not like I was going to use it, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

[antinonymous]

The Punk Rock in Marxist-Leninism

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always hated punk rock; the reasons why having changed significantly. I heavily identified as Right-wing throughout my childhood through early adolescence, so punk rock was a piece of culture that I quickly realized was not for me, with its far-left anarchist aesthetic. If you’d shown and explained to me something like Holiday in Cambodia I wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. Anti-fascists often forget about how the far-right rarely considers the vast and vapid categorizations of different leftists and other anti-fascist types. Anarchists are just as anti-American as Stalinists; anarchists just don’t have a plan (besides the occasional riot) so they’re more docile and easier to ignore. They’re just extra annoying and snobby. The sonic elements of punk mixed in with the political atmosphere sealed it for me. I thought this entire genre of music sounded like some twerp in class who says shit about America just to ‘piss off the system’. Childish, really.

In high school, the first punk band I didn’t immediately hate was neo-Nazi band Skrewdriver. I was introduced to them on a bus for school, with only one black kid on the whole bus, having the song White Power being shown explicitly to them. I remember referencing it to him later in conversation and he said he hated that experience. To me though? Finally, I thought, some punk rock where I can very easily say ‘well I like the music, but I don’t like their politics’ and it isn’t SJW crap. If I were to say stuff like that about other punk rock bands that’d be blasphemy, so I avoided the leftists and found more Nazi punk, where the bad politics were more obvious.

As someone who’s always been into music, my childhood had a specific opinion that I now understand to be just a simple analysis- namely, that politically left-wing music doesn’t do anything to change the system whatsoever. On an open-mic day in my high school the buses had already arrived and then my band got to play Killing in The Name. The school, the ‘system’, allotted us more time because they wanted to hear a cool song. Nobody was inspired by that song that day to think critically about the condition of militarized police in America or how the Klan’s ideology controls the majority of America’s police. I know I didn’t. Frankly, I thought putting politics in music was a waste of time Right or Left. And I found more Rightist music later on, namely in black metal.

Black metal is a mirror image of punk, if that mirror were on two ends of a horseshoe. Both started out as what we today label ‘edgy’, yet generally non-political, and then got somewhat overtaken by the far right and far left. Black metal was firmly cemented in Nazi ideology by the mid-90s with Burzum and the history of the Norwegian second wave, as well as later bands like Germany’s Absurd to solidify National Socialist Black Metal as its own genre. Then there’re wackos like Peste Noire, who, with the help of figures like Anthony Fantano, are somewhat normalized and mainstream while also having deep French nationalist roots. But what makes black metal also similar to punk is the later insurgency movements from either political side into the other genre. Nazi punk distinguishes itself not by its members being skinheads, for skinheads began as a far-left movement, but rather with aesthetics like white and red shoelaces (wrapped straight) and, of course, swastikas. In the mid/late 2010s an anti-fascist black metal scene emerged in response to the atrocities of the Obama administration and Trump’s election victory. This was spearheaded by bands like Gaylord and Neckbeard Death Camp as well as others from Bandcamp and Soundcloud. It didn’t try to distinguish itself at all, in a crypto-anti-fascism directly proselytizing. Nazi punk and anti-fascist black metal are similar in that they, like all music as we’ll be seeing, also don’t achieve anything, but are specifically trying to change the strata of their own genre’s political associations. As my own father put it, there’s only two kinds of Oi – racist and non-racist.

Left-wing black metal was obvious folly that I participated in anyway. But even when I eventually started putting personal politics into my music from 2016 through 2019, I still avoided major bands like Rage and punk rock (besides Bad Religion, which I only liked because I saw a live cover). It was actually Peste Noire who showed me the wonder of sampling in music; yet another far-right appropriation of musical technique, sadly. It was only in late 2019 and 2020 that I listened to bands like Rage and Dead Kennedys, and seeing the amount of effort they put in their messaging left me cynically giggling. Paraphrasing other commentators, music has no effect on political change no matter how radical. Far-left Marxist, Bolshevik, anarchist and Social-Democratic musical compositions have existed since the nineteenth century and were plentiful in the entirety of the 20th century, albeit with significant change after the World Wars. But music is too individualistic to be politically effective as every individual person’s preferences are different. This is how Rage and anarchist punk rock sold so well in America and how I continued to enjoy Peste Noire long after I left the Right.

My music was also inspired by industrial metal band Rammstein, and I’ve since learned that, generally speaking, politically provocative art is an integral part of industrial music generally, which easily puts off someone not paying careful attention to the music. To paraphrase Žižek, artists like Rammstein and Laibach use fascistic language and imagery in a controlled way that lifts various signs from their associations of authoritarianism, leaving them inoffensive enough to gain mainstream credibility. Case in point, Slovenia’s Laibach has caused numerous controversies over their 41-year-career with their overtly militaristic theme, prolific German lyrics, and for having been branded as dissidents by the Yugoslav government, yet they are the only foreign band that has ever performed in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. They were invited to play in 2015 to celebrate the 70-year-anniversary of the fall of imperial Japanese rule on National Liberation Day. The government would clearly know better than to invite a legitimate fascist band; in their minds that would most certainly create an immediate attempt to try to cause some type of western imperialist unrest. One would wonder why they’d invite anyone at all. But nothing malevolent came about from it; the show went fine, and clips of it are on YouTube. I won’t try to make any comment on any individual in the DPRK or anywhere else, but it’s fascinating to think of what happens when Laibach is played through North Korean speakers, interpreted by those who have few else in common with the band other than they both have experience living under a régime inspired by Marx.

It must be a different experience from, say, the experience of Anarchy in the UK by Sex Pistols as sung on North Korean karaoke by VICE journalist Sam Smith. This leads me to my current gripes with punk rock, specifically in the year 2021.

Sex Pistols are the origin of punk rock’s association with anarchism due to the song mentioned above, but they are also the origin of punk rock’s association with Nazism due to Sid Vicious’ use of a swastika t-shirt. This is no paradox. Both are a result of Liberal nihilism, of having no true political leaning other than blind offensiveness and ideological motivation without one ever needing sincerity in belief. Either that or punk rock bands are explicitly Liberal/conservative, which is a discourse I remember from my childhood. Post-90s punk was too commercial, liberal, gay, et cetera, with bands such as Green Day having been seen as a perversion of the solidarity of the mostly cisgender heteronormative anarchist community of people who actually listen to punk rock. John Lydon is an open Trump-supporter. After the far-right January 6th attack on the Capitol, Dead Kennedys retweeted many Liberal commentators and politicians, including Republicans Mitt Romney and Arnold Schwarzenegger. I see not a problem with individual people and artists but a problem with punk rock as artistic expression; it has terminal hollow conformity. Overall, its association with petit bourgeois ideology leaves punk rock with little to give it credibility. Punk rock has always had an insincere, two-faced nature. ‘Punk’s not dead’ is the anti-fascist equivalent of ‘return to tradition’…or is it anti-fascist? Depends on who’s saying it, where’s being said, and who hears it.

Where to turn? Marxist-Leninists (and sometimes even anarchists) will argue that social bureaucracies such as Cuba, the People’s Republic of China, Vietnam and the DPRK provide an alternative to American global homogeny. Considering the American military spent over $700,000,000,000 on its military last year, and that many bases are specifically placed around those listed countries, their arguments aren’t entirely unconvincing. They also argue that because Marxist-Leninist politicians provided industrialization and progress for their nations without what Marxist-Leninists would personally term “imperialist war”, they should be praised, as well as the fact that many of the problems commonly associated with those countries are explicitly from American intervention to stop ‘the spread of Marxism’ and to keep them subordinated to western authority. However, as Bordiga writes in Characteristic Theses of the Party, the integral realization of socialism within the limits of one country is inconceivable and the socialist transformation cannot be carried out without insuccess and momentary set-backs. The defence of the proletarian regime against the ever-present dangers of degeneration is possible only if the proletarian State is always solidary with the international struggle of the working class of each country against its own bourgeoisie, its State and its army; this struggle permits of no respite even in wartime. This co-ordination can only be secured if the world communist Party controls the politics and programme of the States where the working class has vanquished.

Am I arguing for left unity, left solidarity, the whole “anarchists and Marxist-Leninists are going for the same communist goal” argument? No, I’m not talking about that. This has been said before but, historically speaking, there’s usually only one correct way to pilot a vehicle and thousands of wrong ways. But I’m talking about music. And I bring up Marxist-Leninism for what could be seen as a superficial reason; that the potency of Musikbolschewismus is greater than the potency of traditional anarchist punk rock. If we’re just talking about music to ‘piss people off’, which is what punk rock culturally amounts to, punk rock could be Marxist-Leninist in that that ideology has more of the nihilistic punk rock mentality than any band you could name. Because Marxist-Leninism can indeed be quite nihilistic, with Russian Bolshevik minority rule in foreign countries paralleling the worst aspects of American imperialism and its related apologia. As for industrialization, the USSR demobilized its military to a lesser extent than other European countries, organized more strictly than NATO. Their industrialization in question was related to impersonal and heavily regulated bureaucratic trade, the aforementioned occupation of eastern Europe and elsewhere, and warcraft: firearms, lightweight tanks, and thousands of nuclear weapons. In 2021, the history of Marxist-Leninist music is both far more potent and plentiful than anarchist punk rock; if a bit old-school, boringly classical, and used in the justification of unjust countries.

What I’m trying to say is this: what is the difference between an English band that wears swastika and MAGA t-shirts singing about how anarchy is good and another band that wears sickle and hammer shirts singing about how the USSR and the PRC are good? Both are nonsense but the latter is sincere with what they say… or are they? Considering punk rock’s edgy, yet ultimately cowardly and insincere anti-authority outlook, I can’t help but wonder what would be if Marxist-Leninism were to ever embrace the potentiality of its status and flaws and make annoying, loud guitar music. It wouldn’t be hard since, comparatively, the bad politics are more obvious. And once it gets started, it’d create a new cycle of the entirety of political thought in music; easily being able to be superior to Right-Libertarian punk rock and all the washed-up bands of the 70s-00s.

What’s the actual transgressive music we have today? Rap music has been mostly dominated by black Americans since the 80s, with a lot of rappers now being women. It is held to a different esteem than even the antisemitic ‘satanic panic’ of the 80s against heavy metal, since legal cases referring to rap lyrics are not unheard of and can even lead to conviction in modern times. It is much closer to the struggles of the global afro-diasporic community than with European writers from 80+ years ago. Punk rock never had, never could, and never will, have a scene of that calibre.

In conclusion, I hope I have provided a cynical pseudo-rehabilitation of punk rock through the example of Marxist-Leninism in a specific manner related to the overall creation of and interpretation of music, which is an important piece of international culture. I know Marxist-Leninist States to be corrupt and are not socialist, but to the eyes of an American, and to the ears of the average punk rock normie, Marxist-Leninism is just as anti-US government as the anarchists, only scarier, because they actually have a plan! So why can’t it be punk? The PRC’s State-sanctioned abductions are certainly not what Bordiga had in mind in regards to a proletarian government being against its own bourgeoisie. Internationality is the way forward. But it almost sounds like it’s against the system if one has that kind of understanding of ‘the system’. Who’s to say there isn’t an obscure 80s punk demo labelled Kidnapping Billionaires somewhere? Punk rock is nothing more than vapid noise to piss of conservatives. That’s it. It has no heart, spirit nor philosophy. The PRC even saying they would like socialism is too far for American conservative wormpeople, and legitimate reasons to criticize the PRC and other social bureaucracies get overshadowed by imperialist greed and racism. Music is not nearly the kind of tool of radicalism Zack de la Rocha thought it was, but with the internationality of Laibach we see it can do more than one can normally expect. It all depends on whether people can distinguish/separate the instrumentation from the proselytization.

[antonradke-music]

DJ’s: YOU AREN’T PRODUCERS. TAKE THAT WORD OUT OF YOUR SOCIAL BIOS.

Possibly controversial opinion:

TLDR: DJ's: If you're not posting original music, edits, remixes, or anything of the sort. Please don't put "producer" in your SoundCloud bio. It's alot like that guy in High School who would say "Yea man I play guitar, I shred like, all the time" then you hand him a guitar and he just starts goin ham with a poorly executed and under-practiced "Smoke on the Water" or "Enter Sandman" opening riff. On repeat. The entire time he plays. Except with DJ/Producers you can't just hand someone a laptop to "hear them shred on a DAW" so its alot easier to get away with in our EDM world.

FULL RANT: There is a huge difference between "DJ" and "Producer" and there isn't a single thing wrong with just being a "DJ" and not both. People still need and want DJ mixes. There's zero shame in admitting that you don't, or don't know how to, produce music.

  It only bugs me (and to be clear, it doesn't even bug me all that much) coz producers like myself and my friends spend countless hours learning and mastering our craft, so that title of "producer" is somewhat earned in my opinion. You can't just download a DAW and say "I'm a producer" if you've never once truly used it.

  Producers create. DJ's mix. If your SC page is only mixes, you're a DJ. If your SC page contains original content/music you created yourself, then there's nothing wrong with adding that "producer" bit in your bio. Even if what you're posting is ID's, WIPs, ideas, bootlegs, etc. It doesn't need to be fully finished and mastered music.  If you created it, you produced it, you are a producer on some level (beginner/intermediate/TUNE GOD, etc)

If you're a DJ now, and are just now learning to produce, just wait until you start posting/uploading your tunes. THEN add that fabled "producer" title to your socials.

  I'm also not alone. Myself and several of my producer friends have expressed at least some frustration towards the DJ's that both call themselves a producer in their socials and even (sometimes) out in public. It can definitely be a "wtf" moment (and this has literally happened to me before) when you are talking to someone, be it an Entertainment/Booking manager or a bigger DJ, telling them about your music and your work. Then another DJ shows up and starts doing the same. But you know that person, and you're aware of the fact that they've never made a tune or have even tried to start learning.

  Now there's the possibility that someone who's never worked on tunes in their life could get the credit or booking that you were working so hard for, and they didn't spend a minute doing the same. They just happen to be VERY good at talking to promoters, knowing what they want to hear, and manipulating the truth to fit a narrative that will get them hired or booked. And this has happened to me. They ended up getting a better time slot than me as they grossly exaggerated their SoundCloud stats, and played a song to the promoter by an underground artist claiming that it was their own. I kept my mouth shut. I should have spoken up, but I didn't think his ploy would work and I was new to that particular local scene, I wanted to avoid burning bridges or looking salty/bad. His set ended up being really rough, he'd lied about knowing CDJ gear (he didn't), spent an hour trainwrecking almost every transition, the dance floor was empty by the end of his set, he left the venue in a hurry afterwards and I've never seen him since.

Unfortunately it's not like many local event managers actually care. They just want a good DJ, and they'll often believe you if you tell them you're more than just a DJ. They likely don't have a reason to doubt you, and often don't care enough to check the validity of those claims. Or maybe they don't even know the difference between "DJ" and "Producer"

So in in summary: DJ's. You're not producers. Not unless you make your own music/Unless you are a creator. And just for the record, opening a DAW, playing with Serum for a few minutes, and tossing a few loops into a bus/channel doesn't count. Take the time to learn properly how to write progressions/melodies, program sequences, mix-down your track elements, structure your tune and bonus points for doing it all without presets (learn sound design) and without loops (learn drum & pattern sequencing) If you have that DAW installed, you're already sooo much farther ahead than tons of others in your position. Hit up YouTube for some tutorials and you're on your way! 

In Conclusion: Please. Please. PLEASE don't take credit for the kind of work producers spend up to 10-15 hours a track doing (my average time to finish a song entirely). You could cost a talented soul a gig or time slot they've been busting their asses for for years. There really isn't anything wrong with being JUST a DJ. Its a good thing, and still a valid and useful skillset with tons of work/gig opportunities. I played plenty of gigs before I really started calling myself a "producer". You may not get the best timeslots as compared to producers. But be honest with yourself, you could be a fantastic DJ, but who most deserves good timeslots at events? The guys with something to promote. A product to offer. And that product is their creative content/music/whatever. And that guy could be you, you just need to take the time to learn and work hard at honing your craft and skillsets.

  Soooo take "producer" out of your bio if all you're posting is mixes and mashups. And if your bio says it, or you identify as a Producer, you better expect me to fuckin test you on it cause I will. Immediately. And if you don’t pull a home made, non-plagiarizing, ORIGINAL piece of creative expression/content out of your ass in that very moment then I swear to Cthulhu I will perform a social/career crucifixion (alot like “social/career suicide” except I do it to you) on you. Your ‘music career’ ends right there on the spot, ESPECIALLY if you play some underground artist and act like its your music and take credit for it. That’s just so far from ok. And I WILL notice. I was an underground non commercial radio DJ for over 2 years. and a lifelong enthusiast all around. Trust me. I will know. So just be honest with yourself, and others. Please, and thank you.

           - Signed, bedroom producers the world over.

PS - I’m SERIOUS guys. I won't stay silent next time. If I see a DJ try to take credit for another artists work (especially while talking to promoters, and especially taking credit for underground artists work) I will shut that shit down instantly. I will ensure they're instacancelled on the spot and won't play a gig in that area ever again. Plagiarism is NOT COOL. Don't plagiarize. Seriously. You will never have a career in music if you make Plagiarism a part of your “strategy for success” in the music industry. And I will personally work towards ensuring that. (example: I still to this day convert people to the cancellation of DJ Bl3nd. That POS blatantly ripped off so many artists, and is a perfect PERFECT example of a DJ claiming to be a producer. But isn’t. AND he used plagiarism + ghost producers COMBINED to make it seem like he was a producer) I don’t care if you do end up learning to produce after the fact and start making decent tunes.. If you plagiarize and try to use it to advance your career, I will do everything I can to stop you. For ever. 

P.P.S. - For those of you DJ's who are learning to produce, don't take any offense to this rant its not directed at you guys, and please PLEASE don't get discouraged. You're likely not even applicable to this rant as you're actually working towards the title. So let me help you in that, below this text I'll be linking a few awesome YouTube producer channels who upload educational music/producer content. As well as some links to great sample/drum kits and more useful tools to help in your learning curve. I am also always available for producing tips and advice, just send me a direct message or comment on this post and I'll give you the best answer from my own experience/abilities/knowledge. Thanks for taking the time to read this ridiculous and stupidly long rant. I hope you can see where I’m coming from. And I’m sure many actual producers can agree with a lot of my points and reasoning. Have a good one. Peep my tunes if you have some time. Peace and deuces to all! -Anton Radke

www.soundcloud.com/antonradke www.facebook.com/antonradkemusic booking/collabs/commissions/general inquiries/demos: antonradkemusic@gmail.com

Resources and tools for learning producers: Some production education channels on YouTube that I highly recommend:

Dylan Tallchief has some fantastic tutorials for many different EDM genres which cover more than just production. He talks in depth about music theory, sound design. All of it. He shows how to use both Ableton and FL Studio. HIGHLY RECOMMMEND this channel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIu2Fj4x_VMn2dgSB1bFyQA

For rap/hip-hop producers, I recommend watching videos made by these two gentlemen: 

Praxi Plays covers tons of genres/sub genres, and different styles of commercial, and less than commercial rap/hip hop music. He teaches using FL Studio:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAE7Doxo5WQRjLPz7JYa7Fw If you prefer darker, more underground rap music, or just less than commercial stuff in general, Based Gutta covers tons of styles of rap beats from the underground rap culture. He’s great, and also pretty hilarious. Also uses FL Studio. Oh and he does Lo-Fi stuff a whole lot as well:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTrrlfsv-5IBQ1SgPBawT3w

COMPOSERILY is also a good one. But a lot less serious. His videos are definitely more parody and satire than anything, but there’s still lots you can learn from watching him. Tons of useful stuff in his videos. He also does both Ableton and FL Studio depending on the song/artist he’s trying to sound like.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8Ujq8PBm0MWraaXd8MsIAQ

For drums and other samples, I highly recommend getting a Splice Account. Its incredible So many options! And you can download individual sounds. You don’t have to download an entire sample pack if you just want one kick drum that it happens to have which is great. A good brokeboi alternative would be Looperman. Its basically a discount/Wal-Mart level “Splice” style service but free.

www.Splice.com

www.looperman.com

Some useful sample kits I recommend getting for the sake of drum sequencing/programming:

XFER Pack by Steve Duda and deadmau5 (great for house and 4/4 edm genres) 

BIGHEAD Sample Pack by BigHead (available on Splice) [great for trap/rap/hiphop] 

literally ANY vengeance or cymatics sample pack will also be a great choice for practically any type of bass music. Face it. Bass music drums are boring and are all almost IDENTICAL from song to song (with the exception of the kick drum) so any Vengeance or Cymatics dubstep sample kit will do you justice here.

VSTs to consider: EDM: Sylenth1 (must have), Razor (underrated), Massive, Serum (must have), U-He Diva, Nexus (overrated but useful), Dblue Glitch, DBlue Tapestop, Engineers Filter (free, amazing Equalizer. deadmau5 approved), CamelCrusher, OTT (overrated but useful), Cthulhu (MIDI sequencer programmed by deadmau5, hella cool but confusing)

Rap Music VSTs to consider: Omnisphere. that’s it. I’m not kidding. A talented producer armed with Omnisphere, and a decent drum sample kit, who is very good at sampling and writing melody/progression can create THOUSANDS of Grammy worthy rap/trap beats without even once reusing an Omnisphere preset.  Its like Nexus. Except it truly doesn’t suck, and is worth the absurd price tag.

-Anton Radke  www.soundcloud.com/antonradke www.facebook.com/antonradkemusic booking/collabs/commissions/general inquiries/demos: antonradkemusic@gmail.com