#not all men- youre right Kaiser would never

[duckyfann9871]

AAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

[rindreamery]

to be loved is to be seen.

the little things that the blue lock men do for you as their way of saying, "i love you." featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku ─ content: fluff

note. spreading down bad bllk men agenda 🫦 finals is this week, so that means i will not be able to write at all for 3-4 days, so i just wanted to pop this out rlly quickly (event fics will be written as soon as i wrap up this sem, PROMISE)

itoshi rin picks out the things you don't like in your food.

not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but rin has a folder in his notes app about you— things you like, things you dislike, and every little thing you’ve mentioned to him in passing. he wants to know every little detail about you, to write it down and memorize it until the knowledge becomes stuck in the back of his head. to the point that it becomes like common sense to him (if there were ever a pop quiz on facts about you, he would pass with flying colors.) at the end of every date, or every time he hangs out with you, he’ll update his notes with another little thing he’d learned. you will never catch him admitting it out loud, but it definitely shows in how he treats you.

there is one thing he’d memorized about you, by now, though. it’s written in bold, italicized, and underlined in his notes: you hate mushrooms. 

rin catches himself looking at the ingredients of certain meals whenever the two of you would eat at a new restaurant, or order food from an unfamiliar place. it’s not that he’s necessarily a picky eater because, frankly, he really doesn’t care. but he wants you to enjoy it, he wants you to be able to eat without stressing about having to pick it out. his eyes are always scanning through the print, actively checking if mushrooms are one of the ingredients listed. 

but, there are times when the ingredients aren’t listed, and there are times when you end up ordering something with mushrooms in it. 

he may be dense in certain aspects, but it’s hard for him to miss the disappointed look on your face. the way your expression falls ever so slightly, and your smile falters for half a second. before you could dig in, before you could even put yourself through five minutes of digging through the food— he’s swiftly grabbing it from you. 

truthfully, he does it without thinking. he’s acting on his thoughts before he could even process what he’s doing. rin tries to fight the blush that threatens to form on his cheeks, the way the heat crawls up his neck and to his face at the realization of what he’d done, and he fails. but he’s committed to the act now, and he’s not going to give it back to you until he’s done what he needed to do.

he tries to ignore the somewhat perplexed look on your face, and the way you watch him closely as his fingers make quick work of moving the mushrooms from your plate to his. (he tries to sneak in some of your favorite food from his plate to yours, but he’s not slick, and you definitely notice.)

“here,” he says, pushing the plate closer to you after a few minutes. “you can eat it now.”

he sees you glance at the plate, and then back up at him— he looks away as you beam at him with a grateful smile, trying to ignore his ever-increasing heart rate. 

itoshi sae remembers the small details about your routine.

it is almost guaranteed that sae will wake up before you do. his alarm is set to go off at the crack of dawn, right as the sun starts to peek through the horizon, and he's starting his day while you're still in deep sleep. there’s a set routine that he follows, to a tee: wake up (and then contemplate staying in bed, just to cuddle with you a little longer), stretch, do morning yoga, and then go on a jog. it’s something he’d been doing for years, and he has never gone out of his way to add anything new to his routine— that is, until one morning. 

at first, it started with a random thought. as he was getting ready to leave the house, to go for his morning jog, he had unsystematically decided to set out your favorite mug and go-to morning snack. 

sae didn’t think it would be that significant to you, and he, initially, had no plans of doing it again. he simply had extra time to spare, and he knew that making your morning drink was always the first part to your routine, so he decided to get the first step out of the way for you.

truly, he wasn’t planning to make a habit out of this. but then, you told him, “that was a sweet way to start off my morning,” with that sleepy, morning smile of yours. he tries to not pay attention to the way his heart softens at the sight, and the realization that that had made him happy. yet now, he does it every time.

from then on, his alarm was always set to go off two minutes earlier. it’s rewarding, in his opinion, to come home to you— sitting at the dining table, messy hair and still in your pajamas, eyes half-lidded from sleep, with a smile on your face as you take a sip from the mug. and then you greet him with a thank you and a kiss, without fail, even when he tries to lightly guide you away because he’s sweaty.

it never works, because he folds the second you tell him, “g’morning. i missed you.” and he finds himself adding another part to his schedule. 

before sae’s even aware of it, much of his daily habits had been molded to fit with yours. 

on days where he’s far from home, in another country, he finds that his morning just never feels right without you. it feels weird not having to set out your favorite mug, and it feels even weirder not having you there to smother him in kisses. his routine had always determined his mood, and without you, he’s extra sour. 

“i miss you,” he ends up texting you. (that, too, becomes part of his routine when he’s far from you.)

michael kaiser has all your subtle behaviors memorized.

if kaiser were to be asked to name one annoying habit of yours, it would be the fact that you, sometimes, say things that contradict how you truly feel. he calls you pesky, he tells you that he’ll take your word for it and not read too deeply into whatever you’re saying— but, in a way, he’s contradicting himself too by saying that. he’ll always read into it; he’ll always analyze you, gaze narrowed, and watching for every subtle sign in your body language. he knows you, all too well. 

but there’s one thing you always say, one contradictory statement that you always make, that he’d memorized at this point. “it’s okay, i’m not cold,” even when you visibly are.

it irks him to no end. he doesn’t understand why you would say that even when there are goosebumps scattered all over your skin, when you have your arms wrapped around yourself, and you’re visibly trembling. he can practically see the bones under your skin, rattling, making some comical, cartoony noise in his head. you know that he can see you, and yet, you still lie to him.

and, at times, he does this on purpose— he puts the air conditioning in the car on full blast, all vents pointed at you, just to see how far you’re willing to go. and every time, it’s always the same, with the same answer.

kaiser isn’t completely cruel, however. he’s tucked one of his spare hoodies (your favorite, actually) into the backseat, existing purely for your use. first, he’ll scoff at you, roll his eyes, and let you suffer for a few more minutes. but eventually, the guilt will catch up to him, and he’ll constantly be glancing at you through his periphery, shaking and looking absolutely miserable in your seat.

he’ll think to himself for a second, as if contemplating whether he’ll actually help you out (he always does, he does not want you to actually suffer). and then, he’ll internally sigh, before speaking up. “stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “i have a spare hoodie in the back, take it.”

it’s almost laughable, the way you quickly turn your body around to reach for the backseat, visibly seeking warmth. he sees the look of pure joy in your eyes when you realize that it’s your favorite, and he smiles to himself.

“you’re the best,” you always tell him, as you pull the fabric over your head, and he's content. 

he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t reprimand you— he lets you do this, every single time.

oliver aiku is always willing to listen to you ramble.

it doesn’t matter if aiku’s had an exceptionally long day, it doesn’t matter if he feels as if he’s on the verge of succumbing to sleep— he will always make time for you. he will never pass up a chance to call you, to listen to you talk about whatever you want, whenever you want. you could talk for hours, going on and on about something that he doesn’t quite understand, and not a single complaint will slip past his lips. then again, he thinks to himself, why would he complain? hearing your voice is the best part of any day, good or bad. and every night, he finds himself waiting by his phone, waiting for your contact to appear on his screen.

he finds no shame at the speed in which he accepts your call, which is immediately, nor does he try to mask the anticipation in his voice.

and if he were to look into a mirror at that exact moment, he would also see the lovesick smile that had started to tug on the corners of his lips. you can’t see him, but he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. the way it softens, the way it loses its rough edges and lightens up ever so slightly, when he greets you. you probably know he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. (he doesn’t think he is, but when it comes to you, he’s completely transparent.)

it doesn’t take long before you’re divulging into another one of your endless tangents. but aiku’s attention remains undivided, only for you. he sits on the other side of the phone, silently, only responding when you want him to. it doesn’t matter if his own thoughts are clouded with exhaustion, his mind racing with the weight of the day—when you call, everything else fades into nothingness.

“did you know that venus is an evening star for 263 days out of the year?” he can hear the excitement in your voice, he can practically see the sparkle in your eyes, even without seeing you. it’s been three hours, and he’s sure that he should’ve been in bed one hour ago. but you’re still as energetic as ever, so he fights the way his body craves for sleep. he locks his jaw, and bites back a yawn, and listens. “and then, the fact that it disappears from the sky for 50 days, before returning as a morning star?”

there’s silence on your end, and aiku takes that as his cue to talk. “no,” he responds, and there’s an amused lilt in his tone. “i didn’t, actually. you should tell me more.” and you do. 

one look at the clock to his side tells him that, at this point, he won’t be getting enough sleep. he’s sure he’s going to be exhausted when he wakes up in the morning— though, he doesn’t really care, and he’s sure he won’t regret it. he’ll let you ramble about the stars for as long as you want, even when the stars themselves start to fade into the morning sky. 

© rindreamery, 2024

[bluelockmaniac]

SPLASH .ᐟ

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo, seishiro nagi, & meguru bachira (honourable mention) x fem!reader

synopsis. showering & bathing with your bllk husbands !

content warning. sfw !! suggestive but not really (?) but obviously lots of nakedness ノ pet names ノ mentions of menustral period, blood, & cramps in rin’s part ノ you scare the shit out of rin ノ itoshi brothers call you insults affectionately ノ you might have smacked sae’s butt ノgentleman reo ノ they’re all crazy rich men obsessed with you .

notes. 5.6k words (approx. 1k+ each) !

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

“hmm, this should do it!” you mused, a pleased smile gracing your lips as you admired your reflection in the vanity mirror. you twirled left and right, the rose-gold satin robe flowing gracefully like liquid gold as you checked yourself from every angle.

the silk was a recent gift from sae, one he had brought back from spain, and its smooth fabric clung loosely to your body.

tonight would be like every other night when your husband was home— you were ready to indulge in your routine— taking a shower with sae. initially, you were never the clingy type, but that all changed early in your marriage;

you had accidentally walked in on him under the assumption he was still at football practice, only to be met with the sight of him under the shower, water streaming down his sculpted body. you were flashed. though startled at first, he recovered pretty quickly and nonchalantly asked you to join him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. after all, it wasn’t like it was the first time you’d seen him naked, right?

your eyes flickered to the digital display on your mirror, noting the time and cool temperature. an idea occurred to you, and you decided that maybe after the shower, you could suggest a quick dip in the pool. the weather was nice and it wasn’t too late, either.

excitedly, you rushed into the master bathroom and swung the door loudly. you caught sight of him standing beneath the showerhead in the large shower enclosure, the droplets trailing down his well-built chest, then to his toned thighs and calves, and then finally pooling at his feet. the elder itoshi’s gaze met yours and he sighed, unfazed by your entrance— this had become routine for him, too.

his eyes travelled over to the smooth robe you were wearing, immediately recognizing it as the one he had gifted you. “you look beautiful,” he said simply as he reached to turn off the water and slid open the glass door.

“thank you,” you smiled as you began to undress. the silky material slipped off your shoulders easily, bunching up at your feet on the tiled floor. he extended his hand out toward you, and you took it, stepping into the shower stall.

“careful, don’t slip,” he warned.

you rolled your eyes, giving him a light smack on his rear, which made him frown slightly– he was usually the one doing that to you, not the other way around. you slid the door closed and retorted with a cheeky grin, “please, who do you think i am?”

he flicked your forehead gently and turned the water back on. “you say that every time but somehow still manage to slip, stupid.”

as the cool water hit your skin, you looked up at sae with a pout. “baby, the water’s too cold. i’ve told you before, i’d love it if you warmed it up whenever i enter.”

“yeah, yeah, what a spoiled princess,” he muttered, shooting you a half-assed glare before adjusting the temperature to your liking. you couldn’t help but smirk. there’s something you and only you could know— sae loved to spoil you like crazy during your showers, and that is precisely why you allowed yourself to play the role of a spoiled brat, knowing he would not mind and rather entertain it.

you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him and purposely fluttering your soft lashes. he grunted, recognizing the familiar look of expectation in your serene eyes. he looked up at the shelf that held various bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. 

“which body wash do you want this time?” he asked, his hand hovering over the shelf, knowing you could be indecisive. “and no being picky.”

you tapped your finger against your lips, eyeing the different scents he had spoiled you with. “hmm, i want the coconut drift, pl–” before you could finish, he was already reaching for it, “actually, i want the raspberry dreamscape.”

he narrowed his teal eyes at you but complied anyway, grabbing your light blue loofah from the hook. he squirted the raspberry-scented body wash onto it, rubbing it until it lathered into a light pink foam. he sat down on the wide bench built into the wall, pulling you by the waist until you stood right between his legs.

you looked down at him with a gentle smile, sighing softly and resting your hands on his shoulders as he scrubbed from your neck down to your abdomen. he then turned you around to scrub your back.

“sae, i know you’re taking a peek,” you teased, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“yeah, no shit. i’m scrubbing your pretty ass right now,” he replied casually, being particularly gentle on your cheeks.

smiling, you turned back around and reached for your cherry dew shampoo, pumping some into your hands. you lathered it up before sae stood up, holding your waist and lowering his head slightly so your fingers could reach his wet, reddish hair.

“smells like you,” he murmured as you massaged your shampoo into his scalp.

“good, you’ll think of me while you’re training.”

“i do that regardless.”

his words caught you off-guard, making you fumble slightly as you ruffled his hair. “r-right…” you stammered before quickly changing the subject. “—oh, i almost forgot, do you want to go outside? the weather’s nice.”

sae moved aside the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin and planted a light kiss on the side of your neck. “alright,”

as you followed him out of the enclosure, your wet foot accidentally slipped on the polished floor tiles. you panicked, squeezing your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the fall, but instead of hitting the solid floor, you felt a pair of strong hands catch you. sae steadied you and then handed you a towel to dry off.

“told you you’d manage to slip this time, too,” he added, slipping on his velvety, crimson robe with a smirk that only fueled your embarrassment.

“ugh…” you groaned as you wrapped yourself in your rose-gold robe. you looked up at him, then without a word, hugged him tightly. “carry me.”

he rolled his eyes, but you found yourself pressed up against his chest in less than a moment, his arms wrapped securely around you. your arms clung around his neck, and your legs linked tightly around his waist.

“why did i marry you, again?” he asked, pinching your side lightly.

you buried your face into the crook of his neck and he could feel you grin against his skin. “because you love me.”

“. . . unfortunately.”

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

“i thought i told you to get up,” rin grumbled, looming over the bed where you were cuddled comfortably under the duvet. “you’re lucky i’m even taking time out of my day to help you.”

you burrowed yourself deeper into the bed, pulling the duvet over your head to avoid his gaze. “i don’t want to move!” you protested, and even that subtle movement sent a sharp pain through your abdomen, making you wince at your cramps’ unbearable pain. “and besides, that's the bare minim–”

unimpressed, rin rolled his eyes and yanked the blanket off your face, gently lifting you up into his arms. your legs dangled over his elbows as he held you close. “i’ve already prepared the bath.” he said softly.

you tried to resist, throwing weak punches at his chest with your fists, but it was no use. you gave up and fell limp against his chest. the pain was too much, too uncomfortable, and the idea of being spoiled by your husband, even for a little while, was pretty tempting. 

still, you weren’t going to surrender completely without a fight. as you buried your face into his chest, an ominous smile tugged at your lips— a smile rin which knew all too well, one that made him visibly nervous. it was the kind of smile that meant you had something up your sleeve.

“i don’t know what you’re thinking of, but seriously, forget it,” he warned, eyeing you suspiciously. you responded by giving him an innocent kiss on the cheek, causing him to pause and narrow his turquoise eyes. “dammit.”

your husband set you down on the bathroom counter and began unbuttoning your floral pajama top, pulling it over your head. you gripped the edge of the counter for support, tipping your head back slightly as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss onto your neck. 

while rin busied himself with discarding the rest of your clothes, you slyly reached out and grabbed the white, gold-rimmed bin filled up with lotions, moisturizers, essential oils, and various other bath products. pretty normal, nothing suspicious so far. you peered into it, a giggle escaping your lips as you spotted this evening’s target: a bath bomb.

but this time, its colour was red.

“stop giggling at nothing, you weirdo,” he chided, scooping you carefully into his arms. his expression softened as he noticed how tightly your fingers gripped onto him, and the way your eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. “sorry, did that hurt?”

“n-no, i’m fine,” you reassured him. rin nodded, lowering you gently into the large, pre-prepared bath. it was just the way you liked it during your painful time of the month— warm, bordering on hot, with medium-sized bubbles floating on the surface.

“i’ll bring your favourite chocolate in a bit,” he said, gently lapping the water toward you before attempting to withdraw and leave. “call my name if you need anything, i’ll be outs— shit.”

it happened too fast for him to react. before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his arm with whatever strength you had left and pulled him into the bath with you. he fell into the water with a loud splash, soaking him completely. for a hot moment, the bathroom was filled with awkward silence and the sound of water settling around you.

rin sat there, his stretchy navy shirt and black, knee-high shorts clinging to his body, drenched and dripping. he closed his eyes, one hand covering his face like a visor as he tried to calm himself. his other hand rested on the slippery surface of the tub for support.

you bit your lip, struggling to stifle a giggle as you crawled through the water towards him, pushing his knees apart so you could sit on his lap.

“i think it’s unfair that you still have your clothes on while i’m… y’know,” you pouted.

he threw you a glare, his hands gripping your waist as he tried to push you away, but you wouldn’t budge. “i fucking knew there was something wrong with your sudden obedience,” he scoffed, throwing his head back against the rim of the tub in surrender. you took the opportunity to hook your legs under his thighs and peel the shirt over his head.

“i’ll leave your shorts on…” you paused, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “—unless?”

“no.”

“yeah– thought so.”

settling against his chest, you felt his large hands move to rub berry blossom body wash into his palms. he placed both hands on your waist, sliding them up and down your sides before his fingers began tracing lazily patterns along your back.

you softly sighed and rested your chin on his upper chest, looking as blissful as ever. rin was almost tempted to lean down and kiss you until you were gasping for air, but you beat him to it. linking your arms around his neck, you slotted your mouth against his. he reciprocated, but not before pinching your side lightly, just enough to squirm in his grasp.

unbeknownst to him, however, your arm had slithered around and rummaged quietly through the white bin until it found a soft, round object. you smiled against his mouth, then subtly dropped the red bath bomb into the water with a quiet splash.

“f-fuck…” you whimpered suddenly, breaking the kiss and clutching your stomach as your face contorted—eyes squinting—in feigned pain.

rin’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he instinctively adjusted his position to grip onto your shoulders in concern. “what’s wrong? you okay?”

you didn’t respond, instead blinking up at him with half-closed eyes once, then twice, before letting your eyelids slip shut and beginning to breathe softly.

“y/—” one could say his heart practically stopped beating at that moment, his eyes widening as he watched the water around you cloud with a sweet cherry red dye. it also definitely did not help that you decided it was a good idea to fall limp onto his chest, though you were clearly breathing normally.

was your monthly bleeding supposed to be this excessive?

“w-what the fuck!” he fretted in horror as he shook your shoulders forcefully, his hand trembling as he patted your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. your eyes were bleary, yet they still had their usual shine. “is this fucking normal? are you going to bleed to death? should i call for help–??”

over the course of your marriage, you had never seen rin panic like this. in the ten-plus years of knowing him, this was the first time you’d witnessed him so completely consumed by worry for you. typically, rin kept his emotions under control, reacting subtly to any situation. but now, as the vivid colour surrounded you both, you could see the raw concern surfacing on his face.

of course, a large part of you felt guilty— wondering if maybe you’d gone a tad bit too far this time. the last thing you wanted was for him to fall ill or lose focus during his next game because of the stress you caused.

unable to hold it back any longer, you let out the laugh you’d been suppressing, and rin’s expression immediately shifted from panic to deadpan. like, literally. immediately. just that stupid giggle of yours was all it took for him to realize he had managed to fall for one of your traps yet again— this time, in the most ridiculous way possible.

he simply stood up without a word and kicked the lumpy, fizzing bath bomb away. then, with water dripping down his tight-to-skin shorts, he stepped out of the tub.

“wait, rin—” you called out from behind, your hands gripping the rim of the tub as you tried to sit up.

he glanced over his shoulder with an unreadable expression as he dried himself with a towel. you noticed the faint pink tint on his cheeks, likely from the lingering embarrassment and panic. after all, even if your bleeding had been heavy, there was no way the dye would’ve been that saturated in such a large tub.

“...i’m going to say this one more time,” he said calmly, “call me if you need anything or if you want to leave the tub so i can bathe you,” he walked slowly back to you, bending down until his face was close to yours.

“i’m sor–” you started to apologize, but he cut you off.

“and one more thing,” he added, cupping your face gently in his hands. “you scared me to death, you fool. i fucking love you. don’t do that again.”

before you could respond, he sealed his lips against yours. it was safe to say you decided then and there that you wouldn’t pull that particular prank again— at least, not without the promise that he’d shower with you as part of the deal, of course.

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

friday had finally arrived– the long-awaited end to an exhausting week. to you, it usually meant you had all the time in the world to pamper yourself and indulge in self-care. heavy emphasis on usually, because unfortunately, this wasn’t always the case when you had an extremely insufferable (but annoyingly loveable) husband.

if there was one thing kaiser excelled at— besides hurling terrifyingly creative insults at people he barely knew and dominating the football field— it was his nonstop teasing.

you stepped into your spacious master bathroom with a soft towel embroidered with delicate begonia patterns tucked snugly under your arm. your shoulders felt unbearably stiff, and your back throbbed with ache. the thought of dipping your leg into the hot, bubbly bath you had prepared earlier was quite literally the only thing keeping you upright.

finally, your body made contact with the euphoric warmth as you lowered yourself into the wide, glossy marble bathtub positioned near the window. the heat of the water instantly began to soothe your sore muscles, and you let out a content sigh, leaning back against the built-in backrest.

oh, it was going to be so relaxing. would have been, if kaiser hadn’t suddenly barged into the washroom without so much as a courtesy knock— though knowing him, you doubted he even considered such things. the sudden intrusion made you flinch and pulled you out of the comfortable state you’d just begun to enjoy.

“knock before you enter, stupid,” you snapped, shooting him a glare as you sank deeper into the frothy water until only the top half of your head peeked out.

kaiser shut the door behind him and stood there practically naked. your eyes trailed down the path of pearly beads of water that teasingly trickled down his toned chest with no shame. the white cotton towel that hung loosely around his waist threatened to unravel and reveal what’s hidden beneath with the slightest blow of the wind.

“you’re really soaking in here all by yourself after i told you i wanted to join you, prinzessin?” he rolled his eyes, but with no real irritation in his voice as he sauntered toward you. his fingers deftly unhooked the towel from his waist, nonchalantly tossing it into the hamper.

you pushed yourself back up, fingers gripping the edge of the bathtub for support before wiping your face with your palms, water droplets sliding down your cheeks. raising a brow, you asked, “mihya– are you seriously planning to get in even after you’ve clearly just showered?”

you watched as he slipped into the tub, settling in front of you. his head leaned back against the cool marble edge, arms casually draped along the sides of the bathtub.

“that was just the rinse i always take after football practice,” he explained lazily, “is it really so terrible to want to bathe with my beautiful wife?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips from his compliment– though he tended to throw that one your way frequently.

“you’re so annoying,” you laughed, slowly crawling across the slippery surface of the tub toward him. your hands settled on his broad shoulders as you guided yourself onto his bare lap. “now i don’t even have room to stretch my legs.”

his tattooed hand, adorned with the blue crown, came to rest on your waist. though, unfortunately, you were oblivious to the subtle movement of his other hand, instead nestling your head against his chest.

it felt so serene— until it wasn’t.

seriously, what could possibly go wrong while you’re comfortably straddling your husband’s lap, eyes sewn shut, head on his chest as you try to continue your weekly post-work relaxation session?

apparently, everything.

in an instant, a jolt of freezing cold water slammed onto your back, each drop hitting you like a small brick. your eyes flew open and a loud gasp was drawn from you as you shot upright, instinctively scrambling away from him. you nearly slipped on the slick surface in the process as you tried to escape the showerhead above you. who thought it was a good idea to combine a bathtub with a shower, anyway?

“michael!” you whined, seeking warmth under the foamy blanket of sea. “that was cruel…”

he grinned, reaching over to turn off the water, which had started to drench him, too.

“sorry, meine liebe,” he cooed, moving to your side and pressing a gentle, almost apologetic kiss to your trembling shoulders. “i heard cold water’s great for sore muscles.”

“you and i both know that’s not why you did it,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer until your cheek pressed against his chest.

“hmm. well, you know, if i’m feeling generous, i might give you a life-changing massage or even treat you to your favourite food if y—”

“life-ending massage, you mean. you nearly crushed my bones last time– i literally felt my soul leaving my body.” you paused for emphasis before adding, “and i'm getting my food without any ‘ifs’.”

he chuckled and stood up with a smirk, the water sliding off his exposed body as he stepped out of the tub. he grabbed his simple towel and slung it over his shoulder before glancing back at you.

“fine, but i won’t order anything– i’ll cook.”

your heart sank. his cooking was nothing short of life-threatening.

“god, please, no!”

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

“sorry, sweetheart, let me just…” reo murmured, draping a silky, red fabric over your eyes, tying it securely behind your head. “there we go, baby. can you see anything?”

“no, reo,” you replied with a small shake of your head as your hand hovered uncertainly in the air, searching for his. 

a soft laugh escaped his lips before reaching out to thread his fingers in your hand. you could only weakly map out every subtle turn in your mind as he led you somewhere in your mansion. finally, he came to a stop, causing you to bump into his firm back.

your toes flexed and unflexed, feeling the plush carpet beneath you. the texture was familiar, and you quickly recognized that he had brought you to the grand bathroom adjacent to the balcony on the upper level of your mansion.

“ready?” he asked, the double doors creaking softly as he opened them. he turned back to you, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you in. “i’m taking your blindfold off, sweetheart.”

as the velvety fabric slipped off and fluttered noiselessly to the carpet, your eyes widened in awe. a gasp escaped past your parted, plump lips as you took in the almost surreal sight in front of you.

“baby, you didn’t have to…”

you entered the large, steamy room and the warmth of the automatically heated floor, immediately seeped into your feet. in the corner of the washroom, the jacuzzi tub was filled to the brim with fluffy clouds of white foam, and was decorated with delicate red rose petals scattered everywhere like confetti. and to make things even more romantic, vanilla-scented candles were lit on the flat edges of the tub.

your gaze shifted to a small glass table beside the tub, where a bubble machine quietly hummed classical music and released shimmering bubbles into the air. 

“do you like it?” his voice interrupted your silent admiration, and you quickly turned around, a sheepish smile spreading across your face. you locked your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“i… i love it,” you whispered. your eyes wafted back toward the jacuzzi and you moved toward it. “thank you, reo.”

he smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that reached his eyes as he rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. his fingers began to work from behind, unzipping the back of your fitted dress and pulling the delicate material down. “anything for my favourite lady.”

the cool air soon kissed your bare skin; dress and undergarments neatly folded by reo and set aside in the walk-in closet adjoining the bathroom. heat rose to your cheeks as you stood there, exposed. though he had seen you naked countless times before, it had always managed to leave you flustered.

your head hung low, eyes fixed down on the marble tiles beneath you as you crossed your arms over your chest, each hand on the opposite shoulder.

he noticed your bashful demeanor and chuckled softly. his hands found their place on your waist, and he bent down slightly to press slow, sweet kisses along your collarbone. you stared down at him lovingly, hands coming up to card through his soft, amethyst hair. the feeling of his lips trailing across your skin made your breath hitch, and when planted a singular, feather-light kiss on the bottom curve of your breast, your eyes fluttered shut. he straightened up to properly look at you, a grin playing at his lips.

“what, you nervous?” he teased, ruffling your hair affectionately. “smile for me, yeah? my beautiful angel.”

you opened your eyes, looking at him shyly. “stop it… you’re embarrassing me.”

he rolled his eyes playfully, his fingers reaching up to loosen his tie when you suddenly stopped him.

“i’m going to undress you.” you stated firmly, your fingers already skillfully loosening the silky tie and sliding it over his head before beginning to work on the black buttons of his suit.

“t-that’s…” his voice faltered, and he could not suppress the rosy pink tint from spreading across his pale cheeks. the sight of your focused expression– your squinted, dreamy eyes and the way your lips tucked under your teeth as you undid his clothing left him flustered.

it made his heart swell from the overwhelming realization of how much he loved you. how had he gotten so lucky, he wondered, to be with someone as lovely and gentle as you, let alone marry you?

“there, all done!” you exclaimed with a satisfied smile as you gave his firm abs a gentle pat.

“i’m going to make you undress me every single time now, no complaints,” he chuckled, grabbing your hand and helping you into the jacuzzi. the two of you settled beside each other, sinking into the rose-petal-littered, bubbly water.

reo pulled you in closer to him until your bodies were nuzzled together, aligned inch-to-inch. he let out a deep, relaxed sigh, about to throw his head back when he noticed you scooping up a handful of foamy water mixed with a few rose petals, the water seeping from between the gaps of your fingers.

you gave him a cheeky grin as you hovered your hands above his head and released the blooms, letting them fall delicately onto his hair.

he laughed and plucked a petal from his head, pressing it near your collarbone until it stuck. “sorry, gorgeous, but these petals look much better on you,”

he leaned in and pecked your soft lips. one by one, he began to pick up individual petals, carefully sticking each one all over your body, as if adorning you with pretty rubies. his lips followed each placement, planting a tender kiss on every petal he laid on your skin. the whole time, he maintained eye contact with you, those half-lidded orchid eyes making the blood rush rapidly to your cheeks.

satisfied, he reached over and picked up a nearby moveable silver-rimmed mirror and handed it to you, showing you your petal-covered body.

“see? aren’t you just the prettiest?”

𝜗𝜚 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈

“sei, i’m serious— if you fall asleep one more time, i’ll leave you in the tub alone,” you warned almost seriously, patting his cheek gently to rouse him. his heavy eyelids fluttered, and you could see the sleep creeping back as he began to slip beneath the water again.

the giant of a man’s broad back was pressed firmly against your chest as your fingers worked their mystique across his fatigued muscles. you kneaded at his shoulders, and fisted at his back, pressing his muscles gently. it wasn’t that he was sore– no. this had become a habit, something he looked forward to after a draining football practice or game.

your massages were the best of the best, his personal heaven, the kind that always managed to lull him to the brink of sleep. he had tried numerous massages from professional masseuses before you two got married, but none could ever compare to the sorcery of your hands.

“noo, i’ll drownnn…” his voice was a whine slurred with sleep. he blinked his bleary eyes before lazily readjusting his position. 

“then wake up! you’re heavier when you’re sleeping!” you scolded, poking at his shoulders.

“’kay…” he muttered, but you knew better. as expected, no sooner had he mumbled his agreement than his eyes clamped shut again, his head nodding forward. you grunted softly and wiggled out from under him, carefully removing his weight from your lap.

with some effort, you managed to move your husband, pulling him upright so he could be seated properly against the cool, black granite wall of the pool.

“hmph,” you huffed, shoving your hand underwater before splashing his sleepy face with a huge wave of water. he flinched awake and nearly lost his footing on the slippery pool floor, his hands shooting out to hold onto the edge to steady himself. “you asked for it, dummy.”

he groaned and rubbed his face with a grumpy expression. “y’play so unfairly, baby,” he muttered. his long arm reached out and, before you could react, grabbed your wrist, effortlessly pulling you against his chest. your hands were suddenly pressed against his sculpted abdomen. his large hands cupped your cheeks gently, tilting your head to the left, then the right, then back again as if inspecting you.

“hm, something’s different ‘bout you,” he mused, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a satisfied hum. “ah. new shampoo…?” he leaned back slightly, comically raising his head to the crystal chandelier above, as if deep in thought. “strawberry elixir?”

your eyes widened in surprise. if there was one thing that amazed you about nagi, it was his uncanny observance despite his notorious laziness. you had bought the expensive shampoo just a few days ago and only today had you used it for the first time, when you showered before entering the bath.

it may be the sort of detail people would quickly notice but perhaps that was the special privilege he granted to the person he loved. for you, he gave you the rare gift of his focused attention.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. leaning in, you pressed a long kiss to his lips, which he lazily reciprocated. “that’s not going to make me forgive you, you know,” you murmured against his mouth, though your smile betrayed the truth.

he groaned, shifting his gaze to the scented oil bottles lined along the rim of the hot tub. without much thought, he blinked slowly and shrugged, reaching for the bottle labeled lavender dream. carelessly, he poured the entire contents into the water, the strong fragrance immediately filling the bathroom.

“nagi!” you cried, eyes wide in horror. “you don’t just add oil directly to water! they won’t mix!”

he paused, staring at the tiny droplets of oil floating on the surface before glancing down at the guilty-looking empty bottle in his hands. “oh. you’re right.”

“don’t just–!”

“uh… i have an idea,” he muttered, calmly ruffling your hair. you watched as he pushed himself up and out of the hot tub (you’re amazed he took the initiative to do something himself) and walked to the controller wall, completely unbothered by the fact he was butt-naked.

at the click of one rectangular button, the jets at the bottom of the tub immediately activated and powerful streams of water began to come from underneath, kneading at your muscles.

a delightful sigh left your lips as nagi slid back beside you, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“see, baby?” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the water, feeling the water ripple over his skin. “the oil’ll disappear sooner or later, m’kay?”

you nodded your head, slightly but not fully convinced. you turned around to hug him, closing your eyes. “sure… but i’ll just use one of the guest bathrooms if it doesn’t.”

“we’ll.” 

he added too quickly for a man like him. he needed your massages after all– not the jets which, while comforting, did not come close enough to the way your hands worked.

you rolled your eyes playfully and smiled, “yes, yes, together.”

just then, the large television mounted on the porcelain-tiled wall turned on, drawing your attention. you turned your head to find nagi waving the remote with a subtle grin.

“wanna watch a movie and cuddle?”

𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗟�� 𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 and baths go so well together because they are so silly. you can always find him at the shower control panel, playing with the settings until the outline of the tub glowed in ethereal colours of topaz and quartz and emerald.

also, the bath would inevitably become a sea of yellow rubber duckies because he thinks they're cute and they match his hair! he does leave the cleanup to you, though :(

besides, this man would be so indecisive when it comes to water temperature. one minute it’s icy cold, the next it’s scorching hot, only to swing to cold again because, well, he felt like it! the two of you would end up dancing in the water like goofs, splashing and kicking at each other because no one is watching you in your private yard– but you’re sure he’d do it in front of many eyes anyway.

one of his favourite games is to try and carry you on his back as he swims around the tub. despite your repeated warnings that he’d sink under the combined weight, he’d insist on trying, each attempt failing worse than the previous.

but the best part? even though you’re both naked, baths and showers with him were about anything but sexual. he sees you naked– okay? lovely! let’s see who could hold their breath the longest underwater.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[retroaria]

Michael Kaiser. That’s it. That’s the post.

i’m having kaiser thoughts. i’m pondering my orb, and all it’s showing me is michael kaiser. the evil voices in my head (my ask box) are taunting me (sending very nice requests) to sell my soul to michael kaiser (finally write something about him) and so here i am.

summary: random kaiser hc’s (lmk if you want more/nsfw ones)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🪽 - aria

• thinking about how possessive he would be in a relationship. it isn’t overbearing, in the sense that he trusts you and lets you do you’re own thing. however, he’s a rather insecure man behind all that smug douchebaggery that he puts off and he has a hard time watching you interact with other men of his same stature. because truly, no matter how good he is to you, he isn’t the best person all around. there are guys out there that would be better for you and he can’t help be fear that you’ll be swept off your feet and taken from him.

• Kaiser is gentle with you. you actually turned him into a completely different person. It’s not that you’ve really changed him at his core, but you’ve opened him up to love he didn’t know before, and so he feels like he has nothing to be afraid of with you. he’s vulnerable and expressive and happy with you. he makes sure to provide that same experience for you in the relationship, making sure you always know you can go to him for anything and you don’t have to hide anything from him.

• In the beginning of the relationship, Kaiser is very protective of your privacy. He’s really afraid of the consequences that may come with the world knowing who you are and who you are to him. he’s not naive, he knows there’s bad people out there. not only that, but it’s no one else’s right to know you’re love for each other. i see him doing a soft launch and that’s it. after that he’ll post you on occasion and be a little less aggressive about hiding from paparazzi, but he still doesn’t want to share you. you’re his whole world, keyword HIS.

• kaiser LOVES intimacy. physical or emotional, he loves those sweet loving moments that come to fruition from the trust and bond the two of you have cultivated. he loves showering and taking baths with you, relishing in the gentle touches as the two of you clean each other up. they’re always filled with soft giggles and quick kisses, before drying each other off and snuggling up. he loves listening to you talk about your day, not sparing him from details you may have spared others from. telling him all the thoughts and actions you aren’t proud of, unafraid of being judged in his eyes. the vulnerability of it all makes his heart beat fast, but you’re both so trusting and in love that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

• this might be a hot take, but i feel like the concept of marriage would scare him a bit. it’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you, because he absolutely does and already plans on it. it’s just a level of commitment that he never thought anyone would dedicate to him. he doesn’t want you to end up regretting it in the future. he doesn’t shy away from conversation about it though, he actually wants you guys to talk about it and get a feel for where you both stand. when the time comes to take that next step, he’s as ready as ever. just make sure you don’t break his heart please (or i’ll find you bro.)

• dates with kaiser can either be extravagant and classy or they can be chill and sweet, he can do both. sometimes he wants to take you to the nicest restaurants he can fine, see you all dolled up looking absolutely stunning for him, and pamper you the entire night. other times he just wants the two of you to do something fun and spontaneous, would take you to a fair and win you all the stuffed animals you want, or would take you on a stroll around the city, letting you frolick through the shops while he holds all your bags for you. he’s such a gentleman either way.

• kaiser loves being domestic with you. doing the laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, making dinner, he loves it. in those moments he finds himself wishing they would last forever, just the two of you existing in each others presence, he has nothing to worry about.

moon divider- @strangergraphics-archive

[kaiijo]

CERTAINTIES — SHIDOU RYUSEI

pairing: shidou ryusei x gn! reader content: pro soccer player! shidou, pr manager! reader, shidou and kaiser’s behavior is a warning and of itself, shidou calls reader “sweetheart” and “sweets,” one suggestive joke notes: i <3 unhinged men

You’ve learned that there are very few certainties in this world. The trains are not always on time, your hair is not always how you want it to look, your coffee order is not always what you want it to be.

But if you can be certain of one thing, it’s that Shidou Ryusei is a walking PR nightmare.

Your colleagues all warned you about taking him on as a client. His reputation precedes him: he’s loud, generally pretty rude, and absolutely unpredictable; he had cycled through no less than five PR agents in just a month. One of his previous agents, who sits in the office besides yours, came back in tears one day, huffing and sniffling that she “can’t work with him anymore!” because “he’s an absolute maniac! A total psycho!”

But if the various first place trophies and medals that were displayed in your childhood home for spelling bees and baking contests and even a few sport competitions mean anything, it’s that you never back down from a challenge. And, not to be too self-congratulatory, but you’ve been in the job for three months now — the longest of any PR agent — and you’re fairly sure you’re not anywhere close to being fired or run off by Shidou.

You sit on the sidelines of the field, watching the practice match between PXG and Bastard München with heavy eyelids. You got very little sleep the past few days after having to mitigate a “Shidou Ryusei Disaster,” as your team has taken to calling whatever scandal Shidou stirred up. Your eyes slid shut for a few seconds before the shrill of the whistle indicating halftime break made you jump, pitching forward. You would have definitely eaten grass if the man sitting beside you, Harada Kaito, hadn’t grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back.

You and Kaito work at the same agency with Kaito representing the actual PR angel, Yukimiya Kenyu. You can’t say you’re close friends but you get along well and enjoy chatting with him when PXG played against Bastard. “You okay there?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern.

You sigh heavily, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms. “Yeah, I’m fine. Had to put out some fires in the last few days so it’s been kind of hectic.”

“Right,” he says with a nod. “You spun it well. Saying that Shidou’s outbursts are products of overwhelming passion for soccer that’s just a little misplaced sometimes is honestly genius. Might have to steal that from you one day.”

You snort, “Yeah, right, Yukimiya’s a saint. I’m sure you’ll never have to put out a statement like that.”

He chuckles, leaning back. “Probably.”

“You wanna go, Rat Tail?” Both you and Kaito whip your heads over to see Shidou toe to toe with Michael Kaiser of all people. Of all people, he has to choose Michael Kaiser to fuck with today. Kaito gives you a pitying look as you run a hand down your face, standing up and heading over to douse this blaze before it can turn into another Shidou Ryusei Disaster.

“I’ll squish you like the insect you are,” Kaiser bites back, mouth pulling into a vicious smile.

“How about I exterminate you like the rat you are?” And you already see the way Shidou shifts his weight, the way his eyes grow sharper and his gaze more wild, and you know you’re a millisecond away from pandemonium, broken bones, and a potential lawsuit.

“Shidou Ryusei, if you even think about it, I’m never making you yukhoe ever again!”

Kaiser and the small crowd of soccer players that had formed around him and Shidou look a little surprised to see you a few feet away, clearly unaware that you had been practically sprinting across the field to get to them. Shidou, on the other hand, looks like he expected it and there is something smug about his expression that makes your eyes narrow. “Ah!” he croons, only needing two strides of his long legs to reach you. “So you were paying attention to me!”

“What are you on about?” you huff, crossing your arms.

“Well, you were falling asleep on the job. And then you seemed a little preoccupied with your little boytoy over there.” His eyes slide over to Kaito, who’s checking something on his phone.

You roll your eyes. “We’re colleagues, Shidou, you’ve met Kaito before.”

“First name basis? Are you sure you’re just colleagues?” He throws a nasty grin at you but there’s a look in his eyes that doesn’t quite match the simper.

“Yes.”

“You don’t sneak into the conference room together for a little rendezvous?”

“No.”

Shidou tilts his head and rocks on his feet, balancing on his toes and leaning in close. His nose almost brushed yours and your face heats up to an unhealthy temperature. Then, he smirks and pokes your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You swat his hand away. “Shut up.”

“Aww, that’s not a very nice way to talk to your client.”

“It’s not very nice to go around physically assaulting people.”

“I beg to differ, sweetheart,” Shidou says with a wink. Your face burns more.

You massage your temples and instead turn to Michael Kaiser, suddenly acutely aware that the first strings of PXG and Bastard München are all witnessing your interaction. “I’m sorry about his behavior.”

Kaiser raises an eyebrow and you think he’s going to give you a hard time but he only walks over to you, brushing past Shidou, and offers you a charming smile. “I don’t blame you,” he says, placing a placating hand on your shoulder and glancing at Shidou derisively over his shoulder. He looks back at you. “Feral animals are hard to train. My suggestion is to get them a leash and muzzle.”

You frown at Kaiser and peer over his shoulder to look at Shidou, but his eyes are glued to the hand on your shoulder. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Shidou chuckles but there’s something flat and unsettling about his tone. It shifts into something colder. “And get your hand off them.”

“Oh?” Kaiser smirks. “I don’t see them asking me to.”

“They’re too nice to say it. I, on the other hand, have no qualms ripping it off.”

“‘Qualms,’ that’s a big word for a little insect.”

“That’s enough,” you say, finally stepping out of Kaiser’s grip. You check your watch; there’s still a little time in the halftime break. Your eyes zero in on Shidou and you give him a stern glare. “We’re going to have a talk. Come with me.”

You turn on your heel and you don’t need to look back to know that Shidou’s following. Kaiser calls after the two of you, “Aww, finally decide to obey like a good dog!”

And much to your chagrin and great embarrassment, Shidou fucking barks back.

You lead him into the hallway that lead from the locker room and you say, “You can’t just go around kicking your teammates, you’re going to get into real trouble one day!”

“Aww, you care that much about me?”

“It’s literally my job to care about your public image.”

“Don’t got breaking my heart like that.”

You roll your eyes and scowl. “I literally just cleaned up one of your messes, Shidou. I need you to take it down.”

Shidou studies you for a few moments, eyes roaming your face. You squirm a little under his scrutiny and then Shidou takes a step towards you. You instinctively move back a step. One step forward, one back. Forward, back.

You grunt a little when you hit the opposite wall, Shidou crowding you against the wall. He leans in close, mouth right next to your ear. “I’ll tone it down on one condition.”

Your heart is about to beat out of its chest. “What is it?”

He smiles slyly and purrs, “Let me take you out.”

You dare to meet his gaze, shocked by its intensity. Your reply is so quiet, like it’s meant just for Shidou to hear. “Okay.”

His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Really?”

Your traitorous mouth lifts into a soft smile. “Yeah.” And Shidou beams.

You’ve learned that there are very few certainties in this world. But if there’s one thing you’re very certain of, it’s that (for better or worse) Shidou Ryusei can make your heart race.

[snaillock]

your relationship with bllk men as mitski songs

(kaiser, sae, oliver)

my posting has been very slow recently so to celebrate mitskis new album (and to feed into my eternal obsession for her music and lyricism by combining it with another thing im way too obsessed with), i dug up this old ass draft and finished it instead of giving y’all an actual fic

tags: gn!reader, angst(it’s mitski duh), yeah basically no fluff/comfort in here, suggestive-ish in the oliver one, me being a dork and combining two big interests of mine

michael kaiser - i don’t smoke

So if you need to be mean Be mean to me I can take it and put it inside of me If your hands need to break More than trinkets in your room You can lean on my arm As you break my heart

his career can be a lot on his shoulders at times even with the cocky and arrogant facade he puts on for the performance of each match he plays. he has a tendency to keep it all in to bask in the glory of his luxurious life.

you understand. you know he’s currently too prideful to deal with his true feelings, especially all on his own. you just want to be there to know he isn’t alone and that he can be open with you. so you sit there, giving him a listening ear as he lashes out and releases every awful word in the book towards you when everything finally becomes too much for him to bear. you wouldn’t want him to have a very public meltdown when it happens so it’s better this way. you have remind yourself to take none of it to heart because he doesn’t mean those all harsh words. he just needed an outlet for those frustrations.

you also don’t want the weight and significance of his career to separate you two. you’re already so damn lucky to be with someone like him. you want to prove that you can handle it. you know you can. you’re sure you can help him figure this all out somehow. love just takes compassion and patience, that’s all it is. just taking it one step at a time.

it’s just compassion and patience. right?

Just don't leave me alone Wondering where you are I am stronger than you give me credit for

sae itoshi - i want you

You're coming back And it's the end of the world We're starting over and I love you darlin' And I am done, dear

he swears he will make time for you someday. sure those words have been promised over and over again like a broken record but he truly does love you. however you’re starting to wonder if mutual love is truly enough to keep you two going.

the truth is his life is currently too big and important for him to take any focus away from it. the last thing he needs is a distraction. all of which he has very clear multiple times, even along with his contrastingly hopeful promises. though his tone is quite neutral, never letting his emotions seep through as if he’s programmed to do so. meanwhile you have to desperately hold yours back to not seem like an idiot.

it’s never been easy to express how you feel in front of him. you desperately wish you could but the inconsistency of your relationship that’s barely holding up renders it pointless. this over and over/back and forth thing that’s going on between you two is exhausting. it only leaves you lost and confused. you begin to wonder if staying is even worth it at all. even with the speck of hope that it could eventually work out. even if you love him.

You're in the house And I am here in the car I just need a quiet place Where I can scream how I love you

oliver aiku - eric

You like control, well, I do too Take off my clothes and watch me move You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me how you choose

you deeply crave a loving and fulfilling connection with another but unfortunately the other you desire is him. a guy who’s born to be a player and only wants to fool around with multiple people.

you know getting attached would only cause you so much unnecessary pain but your naive heart couldn’t resist him. you know that he doesn’t see you for more than what you give him at night but you were still a fool to fall for him.

enough of a fool to fall for him knowing he’s not ready to settle for one person. you could see it from how you would lovingly gaze at him while he leers at someone else behind you. you would still give yourself up to him if you could, offering anything he wanted out of you.

despite better judgment, you stay with a pained and aching heart. constantly yearning for more.

But how long, how long can we play this way? I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you My heart, my heart wants to hold you But I know, I know, I know the rules

taglist(lemme know if you wanna be added): @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060

[thlayli-ra]

I forgot to actually say, happy halloween!! I love your work too much, so I'm crawling back for more (sorry!!) but i would love to request something for my other fave, on the rare occasion I'm not drooling over drew:

A ficlet, of Ludwig Kaiser whump! (The small taste of imperium in Stray has left me wanting...)

It would be a treat (for me 😆) to see him with Gunther, with the prompt 'whipping'. Have you seen the way Gunther publicly chops him after he's done something disappointing? I'm thinking perhaps one day he's so angry he takes it a step further. Seriously, the dynamic these two have makes me insane :V

Ooooh, yes to this! Absolutely yes! Hope you enjoy!

Trick - 'Whipping'

Characters - Ludwig Kaiser, Gunther

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Graphic descriptions of bloody violence, whipping, abusive relationship, unhealthy toxic relationship

Gunther was not a man known for his vast spectrum of emotions. No doubt he felt them, same as everybody else but he had worked hard to repress them as much as possible and rarely allowed any sentiment to cross his facial features. At least, not the genuine ones. Yes, he would smile when he insulted an opponent to get a rise out of them, he would bellow when he wanted to scare them but most of the time, it was that same stern grimace, a lead mask on his face to hide away everything beneath.

Except for Ludwig, who was a master at reading every tiny, minuscule tell on his Ring General's expression and could decipher precisely how he felt.

And right now, Gunther was enraged. Angrier than Ludwig had ever seen him before. All because of him. Because he had lost. Again!

Losses were unacceptable in Imperium. The very word 'Imperium' meant supreme power, absolute dominion. Nothing would be accepted by the Ring General in his own stable but perfection. It was why Giovanni had been exiled from the group and now Ludwig was skating on very thin ice. One loss was bad enough, but he had been on a streak of losses lately. Each one of those defeats reflected badly on Gunther and he was seething from the humiliation.

Although it was hard for anybody backstage to tell as the two men made their way through the dimly lit halls to Gunther's private locker room, Gunther's face stoic and unreadable as ever. Ludwig could see it though, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped his championship belt over his shoulder like he was trying to choke it out, the sharp click of his dress shoes on the tiled floor. Ludwig could see the rage building, feel the Sword of Damocles dangling above his head, one slash away from running him through.

Yet, he walked with his usual easy swagger, head high, expression neutral, like he had been trained to all those years ago. Gunther didn't like emotion in his subordinates either. It was probably why things had never really worked out with Thatcher - the guy had been rage personified - while the Italian blood in Giovanni could never be fully repressed.

But Ludwig? Ludwig was German. Famously stoic, humourless and practical. A stereotype it may be but one that Ludwig was happy to lean into for his Ring General. Which was why he pushed the fear on his chest down and obediently trotted behind his master like a pound dog to the killing room.

They reached the door and Gunther stepped back for Ludwig to open it for him before following the Austrian inside. He closed the door shut behind him and pulled the latch over on the lock, as he knew he would be commanded. There was no offers of gratitude for his foresight.

'Stand in the centre of the room,' Gunther demanded and Ludwig complied. Planting his boots on the scummy tiled floor, he stood straight, puffing out his chest, chin tilted back and looked ahead, hands behind his back. Waiting for the inevitable.

His bare skin prickled at the cold damp in the room but he dared not shiver as he observed his Ring General at the other end of the room. Gunther carefully placed his championship belt down, pulled off his jacket to place it on a hanger then deliberately rolled up his shirt sleeves. Taking his time, making Ludwig wait. Making him stay. Seeing if his subordinate cracked.

He didn't. He was a good dog.

Finally turning to face the German, Gunther stretched out his fingers and wrist, warming his hand up. 'You understand why?' he asked.

'Ja, mein General,' Ludwig barked back, keeping his eyes trained on a smear on the far wall, focusing everything onto it. A technique that captured soldiers apparently used during torture.

'Good.'

Without warning, Gunther slammed his arm into Ludwig's chest with a ear-shattering smack. The blonde pursed his lips tight to stop any sound, even the slightest grunt of pain escaping them. Before he had a chance to grab in a quick breath to replenish the oxygen pummelled out of his lungs, Gunther attacked again with another vicious chop.

The cold in the room was forgotten in an instant as heat began to burn like acid across his naked chest, his skin bubbling with a deepening pink. Turning red with each passing second to reveal two almost perfect hand prints. Then three, then four. In such quick succession that Ludwig had no chance to refill his lungs in between. He froze when his body panicked and tried to grab in air through the mean of a feeble cough.

Gunther heard. Part-way through the fifth chop, he stopped and glared murderously at his subordinate. 'What was that?'

'I'm sorry, mein General,' Ludwig gasped out.

'You shall be!'

A blow unlike the others before. Brutal. Excruciating. It knocked Ludwig back and he had to put out his heel to catch himself. A second terrible mistake!

'You have grown weak!' Gunther roared, unleashing another cruel forearm, and another, a volley of shots that broke and bloodied Ludwig's chest. 'Feeble! Pathetic! A joke!'

Ludwig's legs trembled from lack of oxygen and he nearly buckled when a huge hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing. He was suffocating! Feeling the blood well in his eyes as the blood vessels burst, feeling the lick of flames inside his chest as the acid dripped in deeper.

'An embarrassment!'

He was thrown to the floor, landing harshly on his hands and knees. He hissed some air in through his gritted teeth and every breath he seized hurt! A throbbing ache within his ribs as if Gunther's fingers were twisting his organs into knots. Yet, his face remained unchanged. Neutral, emotionless. Hiding all the pain from sight even through his chest was tattered and his eyes bloodshot.

Gunther was pacing around him, watching him, looking for any cracks in the facade, before turning his attention to Ludwig's bag. Fishing around his possession, he found the item he was looking for. 'Do you still practise?' he asked, turning around.

Ludwig steadied himself on his hands and knees, already knowing what dire torture was to follow. Lifting up his head to reply, his glance fell on the leather flogger in his Ring General's grasp. 'I do, mein General.'

'Daily?'

'Yes, unless I have a match.'

'So you didn't self-flagellate today?'

Ludwig answered without hesitation. 'No.'

Gunther slapped the leather tails against his palm, testing them. 'Keep still. Keep silent.'

'Ja, mein General.'

Ludwig bent his head back down and arched his spine, offering his body up as sacrifice to his beloved master. For it was all his; his heart, his mind, his soul. He would give the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins, his flesh and free-will, everything, to this man. This picture of physical perfection, of fighting prowess, of wrestling purity. The ultimate master of the mat.

His Ring General.

The flogging was barbaric, and lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Each savage strike of the whip wreaked havoc on his back, the many tails hooking on tight to his skin and ripping it open. Again and again and again. The terrible blades ploughing open the earth of his flesh until the blood began to run like poured wine down his flanks, pooling onto the floor beneath him.

Ludwig watched the puddle under his body grow, creeping its way across the tiles until it reached his hand and threaded its way between his fingers. Staining each of them a pretty crimson, patches of bright, rich red where the light hit, sparkling like the edges of a perfectly cut ruby. He could feel it seeping into the fabric of his knee pads and trunks, saturating his gear with wet scarlet.

And still the punishment continued. Slashing, shredding. Destroying his shoulder blades until he was left with nothing but wet, mangled flesh, a tangle of ribboned skin and blood.

The pain was unspeakable. Pounding into him with each sadistic lash of the flogger. Ludwig could swear that Gunther had soaked his back in gasoline and set it alight. He imagined his beloved master's face twisting in the heat of the flames, watching with delight as Ludwig's body charred to a crisp before his very eyes before crumbling in on itself.

And yet, he never once cried out. Never gave so much as a whimper of discomfort. He did exactly what he was told. Keep still. Keep silent. Obeying his orders to the letter.

Perfection!

When the gruelling punishment finally ended, and he could hear Gunther drag in an quivering gasp and see the blood-splattered fingers holding the flogger tremble, Ludwig became aware of an overwhelming warmth blasting out from the centre of his chest. Burning fiercer than the singe of acid or flame.

Gunther stepped back, breathing heavy, dress shoes shuffling uneasy on the tiled floor. 'Go shower, Ludwig.'

'Ja, mein General,' Ludwig replied, his voice clear and steady. He struggled up to his feet, his ruined back screaming in agony, his lungs aching and his chest stinging, but his face as serene as the surface of a lake on a calm, peaceful day. He tried to catch Gunther's eye but he was facing away from him, wiping his large hand over his face. Ludwig recognised the guilt and his heart sang with the melody of every bird in the aviary. A song which rang in his ears as he washed away the blood and filth, his broken skin flapping open under the shower's deluge. A song which could never be drowned out, not by the water and not by the pain.

For who else could withstand such punishment from the Ring General? Who else could ignite such unchecked wrath in the famously stoic Austrian and drive him to such depths of sadistic cruelty? Who else could stir such intense emotions in Gunther and haul them to the surface, shattering the lead mask to pieces?

Only him. Only Ludwig!

Gunther loved him like no other... and Ludwig adored him in return!

[iwashie]

BLUE LOCK MEN AS BREAKUP SONGS

📌 itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, oliver aiku, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, michael kaiser

︶ ︶ ︶    ୨୧ ︶ ︶ ︶ warnings- breakup songs that I think suits the Blue Lock boys. (pt1?)

♡ ITOSHI SAE- MR. PERFECTLY FINE/ TAYLOR SWIFT

Mr. "Perfect face" Mr. "Here to stay" Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away" Everything was right Mr. "I've been waiting for you all my life" Mr. "Every single day until the end, I will be by your side" .. Hello, Mr. "Perfectly fine" How's your heart after breaking mine? Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby Hello Mr. "Casually cruel" Mr. "Everything revolves around you" I've been Ms. "Misery" since your goodbye And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine" Mr. "Never told you why" Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy" He goes about his day Forgets he ever even heard my name Well, I thought you might be different Than the rest, I guess you're all the same...

✦ ISAGI YOICHI- SOMEBODY ELSE/ THE 1975

So I heard you found somebody else And at first, I thought it was a lie I took all my things that make sounds The rest I can do without I don't want your body But I hate to think about you with somebody else Our love has gone cold You're intertwining your soul with somebody else I'm looking through you While you're looking through your phone And then leaving with somebody else No, I don't want your body But I'm picturing your body with somebody else....

★ OLIVER AIKU- NOT IN THE SAME WAY/ 5SOS

Drink all night, never sleep You say, "Go," I won't leave I love you, you love me But not in the same way Rip my heart out and leave On the floor, watch me bleed I love you, you love me But not in the same way We fuck, and we fight, then you call me a psycho I walk out the door, but you won't let me let go Turn right around, throwin' rocks at your window But I can't forget you, and I'll always let you...I love you, you love me But not in the same way...

❥ NAGI SEISHIRO- GILDED LILY/ CULTS

Now it's been long enough to talk about it I've started not to doubt it, just wrap my head around it I remember when you told me it's an everyday decision But with my double vision, how was I supposed to see the way? Haven't I given enough, given enough? Always the fool with the slowest heart But I know you'll take me with youWe'll live in spaces between walls.... Haven't I given enough, given enough?...

▞ BACHIRA MEGURU- MORAL OF THE STORY/ ASHE

So I never really knew you God, I really tried to Blindsided, addicted Felt we could really do this But really I was foolish Hindsight, it's obvious Talking with my lawyer She said, "Where'd you find this guy?" I said, "Young people fall in love With the wrong people sometimes" Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay You can think that you're in love When you're really just in pain Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay In the end, it's better for me That's the moral of the story, baby.....

❖ITOSHI RIN- THANKS FOR NOTHING/ THE NEARLY DEADS

Thanks for nothing, all the bad advice. You never gave me anything. Hope you're having fun across the country Making brand new memories. Sorry it's not far enough away. I'm sick, so i'm sorry i'm giving up. Now i'll never wonder if i'm good enough for you.I'm getting older every day, I'm getting over you. You will never share in my success, You will never play a part in my happiness again. I'm getting older everyday, I'm getting over you this way. Take a step back, try to see it both ways. Looking from the outside everything seems ok. But we're not ok. All these guilty feelings i have harbored over years of your neglect, They end tonight.... Take a step back, try to find a lifeline. Looking from the outside everyone is just fine. I'm doing fine.The only thing you taught me was to run away and how to waste my life How to waste my life....

✸ MICHAEL KAISER- HATE ME/ ELLIE GOULDING

Hate me, hate me, still tryna replace me Chase me, chase me, tell me how you hate me Erase me, 'rase me, wish you never dated me Lies, tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me It's a thin line between all this love and hate (okay) And if you switch sides, you're gon' have to claim your place (okay) So baby, this time you're gon' have to seal your fate (okay) Yeah, baby, this time you're gon' have to seal your fate... Tell me how you hate me, hate me, still tryna replace me Chase me, chase me, tell me how you hate me Erase me, 'rase me, wish you never dated me Lies, tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me...

[dnickels]

picked up The Guns of August on your rec, and you’re right that the prose is gripping, but also all day at odd moments I’ve been cracking up at the thought of that French guy going “The French army, give up our red trousers? NEVER!” truly a man with his priorities in order.

Oh YES that book is insane, I picked it up in grad school and it was the first book that genuinely humbled me, made me aware that there is a level of style and ability that far exceeds my grasp (should I have realized this earlier? Obviously but better late than never). "On history's clock it was sunset" is perhaps the scene-setting line of the 20th century.

Tuchman has such a gift for capturing the personalities at work here, and there is a LOT of personality to go around lol. She paints such a vivid picture of the men who were willing to blow up the world for the sake of La Gloire or a place in the sun or stopping another Napoleon etc. I also love her essay "The Patricians", skewers the late Victorians-- perfectly captures that moment of high absurdity before that world comes tumbling down.

I don't know what's funnier, le pantalon rouge c'est la France!! or Moltke saying the Kaiser can't get cold feet NOW because it would fuck up his timetables

[bobbo1958]

God damn was that a battle. We had to have been outnumbered five to one. Our guys were being picked off one after another! Our platoon strength was down to two squads. We surprised a brigade of the Kaisers elite troops and they were taking us out like shooting fish in a barrel. For the moment the two squads had found sanctuary in a particularly dense thicket of woods but we all knew our reprieve would be temporary at best. I was all of twenty two and by attrition, I was now the senior man in what was left of the platoon. For some reason one of the guys had a marking pen on him and converted my corporal’s stripes into an impromptu staff sergeant’s stripes. Every one around saw him doing it and nodded in acceptance of my battlefield promotion. “

“You’re all we got left” PFC Langley said. “We’re all making this up as we go along now, so your guess is as good as ours. What’s our next move?”Langley finished.

“Don’t you think you should ask me that? Immediately behind Langley stood Captain Anderson our Battery Captain. Before anybody could snap to attention or salute, Captain Anderson raised his hand to stop us.

“Don’t you all dare salute here! If any of them Germans are watching us or just happen to see us they’ll know I’m the officer and my life wouldn’t be worth spit” Captain Anderson growled. Captain Anderson looked at the spur of the moment art work on my sleeve and looked me up and down sizing me up.

“What’s your name? Staff Sergeant? He queried.

“Corp…er Staff Sergeant Greg Linzer” I replied.

“Linzer how old are you?”

“Sir, I’m twenty two, sir.”

“OK Linzer, if by some miracle we get out of this we’ll have to get to headquarters and make those extra stripes real. OK?”

“Sir, yes Sir” I said barely concealing a grin.”

Captain Anderson was known to be a capable officer and this wasn’t his first experience in battle either so he was generally trusted by those he commanded. But the fact was that he was an odd duck. Nothing too out there but he was quiet and reserved and if he had a personal life, no one could attest to what it was. He was never known to have visited an officers club anywhere so it was assumed that he didn’t drink. Someone once said something about him having a better than average record in keeping his troops alive and right at the moment that was comforting that we had some odds working for us. And right now being a force of maybe twenty five when we started the day over a hundred, we hoped that Captain Anderson’s mojo or knack or whatever had just enough left in it to get us out of this mess we were in.

“Staff Sergeant Linzer” he began “You are to disseminate new orders to whoever is left. You are to gather information on who’s left and what armament they still have. Then report back to me.”

“Yes sir. What are your orders sir?”

With a gleam in his eyes, and a sudden determined scowl he barked “No one is allowed to die without my express permission.”

Thinking this was just an attempt to build something resembling morale, I nodded in response to him and left to figure out who and what was left.

Fifteen minutes later I had dutifully relayed to twenty six men the captain’s order and found most of them had but a clip or two of ammunition left. A couple had found dead German soldiers and relieved their corpses of their rifles and ammunition. So we weren’t dead yet but we didn’t have much on us to stay that way for very long.

I found Captain Anderson in a secluded thicket close by. He seemed to be talking to someone but I couldn’t see anyone with him. I cleared my throat to alert him to my presence. “Sir, Staff Sergeant Linzer reporting Sir.”

“Very good Linzer. Tell me what we’ve got.”

“Twenty six men sir. We’re a pretty banged up bunch but we can still fight sir. Most have one or two clips of ammo and a couple have German rifles and spare ammo for them.”

“Were my orders delivered to all of them?”

“Yes sir all twenty six. No one is to die without your express permission.”

“That order applies to you too Staff Sergeant.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

“OK. Here’s what we’re going to do. First you find one man you’re comfortable with that can run like the wind. He’s to be given coordinates for our current position and pointed towards field headquarters. Next the rest of us will, as quietly as possible, follow these tree lines as far back to headquarters as they go and hopefully your runner will have gotten there and relayed our position and sent reinforcements. Next if we are engaged in combat each man is to sparingly use what ammo he has. If he finds any dead soldier on either side he is to take their ammo for themselves if he can do it safely. Lastly if or when a man runs out he is to fix bayonets and continue the fight. Don’t wait for further orders, just do it. Don’t worry, if we’re engaged our escape path will likely be blocked and there will be no other option but to fight.”

“Yes sir” I said nervously.

Since the men had coalesced into a group nearby, relaying the orders was quick and efficient. The runner was chosen and sent on his way.

Looking at Captain Anderson for a signal he waved his hand over his head.

“OK let’s go” I ordered. “Spread out Patrol formation” this would keep the men yards away from one another but still within eyesight of each other. No need for a cheap shot felling a couple of men because they were too close to each other.

We walked for maybe half an hour as quietly as we could and we’re just allowing ourselves to think that we might just get out of this when the telltale whistle of an incoming mortar round ruined any hope of escape.

“Take cover!” I yelled.

The shell landed with a deafening explosion and immediately the world around us was insane. The Germans seemed to be all around us. No escape seemed possible. The men took cover in any depression, behind any log or behind any tree they could find. Captain Anderson’s words about not dieing without his permission seemed silly at the moment and the guys fought as valiantly as they could. One by one I could tell that they were running out of ammo and I could hear the telltale sound of bayonets being fixed to rifles. Captain Anderson somehow appeared next to me. His bayonet already on his expended rifle.

“Anybody dead yet.” He asked

“And disobey direct orders?” I countered in real battlefield humor

“Good. Crawl to as many as you can and tell them to wait for your signal to attack”

“Attack sir!?!” I asked incredulously.

“You want to keep those stripes staff sergeant?”

“Yes”

“Then follow orders”

I got to about twenty of them before hearing German troops searching all around us. Captain’s orders became clear. We would let them draw as close as we dared and then engage them with fixed bayonets. Too close for rifles to be effective. I held my place until I could see troopers virtually on top of me.

I let the closest of them get just past me and shouted “NOW” for all I was worth.

I sprang up behind the startled soldier and stuck my bayonet into his back before he could react. All around me I heard one shot followed by a scream and gurgle as another trooper fell to a bayonet. One by one their numbers diminished as the effectiveness of our attack proved well purposed. As they could a lot of the guys grabbed the German riffles and ammo and began to press the enemy into retreat. Riffle in one hand bayonet in the other.

Screams in German filled the air. Chaos ruled the moment. The German force was confused and without direction. As we were falling earlier in the day, so now were the enemy forces. A sideways turned bayonet thrust between a rib cage here, a random shot there and the Germans abandoned their attack and ran for dear life. A couple of poorly aimed mortar shells exploded way off course and only served to cover their retreat. They had to have thought that there were many more of us because we were clearly outnumbered. But somehow it worked. The last of the enemy combatants were seen leaving the wooded area on a dead run. A couple of pot shots in his direction insured he stayed that way.

Captain Anderson ordered fall in. I guess he wanted to see who was left.

We were incredulous! 25 men, one battlefield promoted staff sergeant and one slightly odd captain stood staring at each other. Bruised, cut, a couple had gunshot wounds in their arms and one leg but we had all made it!

“Sergeant search the area. Let’s see if anyone is still alive out there. Make sure no one’s got a gun next to them.”

I grabbed a couple of guys who looked like they had fared better than the rest and we searched the area. No one was even remotely alive. We gathered as many rifles and ammo we could carry and destroyed the rest. We gathered 3 ammo cans of ammo and the confiscated rifles and ammo was distributed to the group. One guy, who was a veterinarian before the war, was drafted into being our corpsman and he set about dressing the wounds as best he could with next to no supplies.

“OK.” Captain Anderson began. “We’re still in a war zone men. We need to get out of here before they regroup and come back for us. Sergeant let’s go. If you can walk then you walk. Sergeant figure out some kind of liter or something for the man with the leg injury.”

We stripped a couple of dead soldiers of their coats and with them and a couple of tree branches we made a stretcher and carried him out with us. We’re about eight or nine clicks from safety and only half of that would be covered in forest or other cover. The last few miles would have to be traversed in the open. We reached the open area just at dusk and waited for the cover of darkness to attempt to cross the open area.

“Quick time March. We need to get across this area as quickly as possible.” Came Captains orders.

Two clicks. We were two clicks away when a rifle shot from behind blew the captains bars off of Captain Anderson’s left shoulder. Fortunately for us this area had been fought over time and again and there were plenty of fox holes and bomb craters for us to take cover in. We didn’t need orders this time. We shot when we had a good target but otherwise didn’t waste ammo. Our bayonets were ready at our sides should we once again need them. We had abandoned our issued rifles because without ammo they were useless now. Our confiscated German rifles wouldn’t accept our bayonets so they stood ready at our sides.

Huddled in a fox hole with bullets flying all around, the persistent blast of a mortar round exploding nearby, a Quick Look here and there to see if you could get a quick shot off is not the kind of lifestyle that lends itself to a very long life. Captains orders or not. We didn’t have machine guns to lay down suppressing fire or even enough ammo to get off more than a random shot here or there. We were pinned down and this time it wouldn’t be but a few minutes until we were overrun. The foxhole I had dove into contained three of us. With nothing left to do I reminded the other two of Captain’s orders. I was met with condescending half grins and not but a couple of harsh replies. Tracer rounds flying above us attested to the fact that it would be suicide to poke our heads above the rim to see if there was any chance of return fire or escape.

“Boys I don’t know what to say. We’re pretty stuck. If they come do what you can. That’s all I can offer.” Figuring these to be my last orders before the inevitable.

A new sound. Mechanical. Machinery. Coming from our side. Ground vibrating then BOOM shells flying overhead towards the Germans. Machine gun fire, then men jumping over our foxholes running and firing towards the Germans. I looked over the rim. The guy in the makeshift stretcher with the leg wound was being evacuated. I looked around and saw Captain Anderson. He was yelling for us to join in the attack. I sat down for a moment, looked at my comrades and just said, “Captain’s orders, let’s go!” A memorized series of whistle bursts alerted the rest of our men to join the fight. German rifles firing when we could, cutting and slashing when too close for long arms.

The fight lasted the rest of the night into the next morning. We pushed them back beyond the wooded area we had fought in the day before. The Germans were beating a hasty retreat and Captain Anderson found me and ordered a stand down for us.

With odds like these I needed to find a plane to Las Vegas or something. Back at field headquarters Captain ordered us to fall in. Wide eyed and incredulous twenty four men, one staff sergeant and one captain eyed each other. Our runner, Langley, found us and reported to the captain. His jaw dropped when he saw all of us still standing. “Wheres Harold” he asked. “Infirmary with a leg wound. He’ll be ok” reported the captain.

“Well…it’s good to see you men can follow a direct order” Captain Anderson quipped.

Our ragtag group was folded into other ragtag groups and then again and again. I kept my stripes and Captain Andersen was promoted to Major.

Just as all wars go, someone wins, someone looses, or everyone negotiates a way to just stop fighting. This one was no different. At wars end we got into ships or planes or whatever we were assigned to and went home.

That’s when things got weird.

Ten years after that last battle, Langley found enough of us to have a reunion. At a hotel in Dallas Texas twenty six men stood staring at each other. No one had changed. Not one grey hair, not one wrinkle. Silently we hugged each other and our wives stood nervously around wondering what was going on. Captain/Major Anderson was still in the military and couldn’t attend. He sent a message of congratulations to all of us and ended it with “remember my orders. No one dies without my permission.” We all took it with good humor figuring he was just having a laugh at our expense.

The night otherwise went well. Telling our wives of our adventures and renewing old friendships. A great steak dinner and reluctantly the night had to eventually end. We all went home glad to see everyone was well and happy.

As life went on we all found jobs and careers. Families were created and life went on. We all had each other’s addresses and kept in touch regularly. A group letter circulated regularly and everyone contributed to it and sent it on to the next guy. Forty years went by and the letters still came but slowly came farther apart. Another world war came and went and then Korea. A couple had re-enlisted but as far as anyone could tell everyone made it home. Major Anderson seemed to fall off the earth.

Langley found my phone number and called me one day. “What’s up Staff Sergeant?” Came the gleeful voice on the other end of the phone.

“I’m doing well.. no complaints “

“Listen, Harold and I are nearby and we should talk. Any chance you could get away for an hour or so?”

“Sure! I can join you at a diner nearby. Say in about an hour?”

“Perfect, see you there.”

The location of this impromptu meet up was confirmed and I looked forward to seeing my friends shortly.

An hour later I entered that diner and was stunned. There stood a Harold, and Langley. They should have been sixty plus old men but all three of us stood and stared at the twenty somethings in front of us. We found a booth and sat silently. Harold produced an old platoon photo with us in it and simply said “What the hell is going on?” Our images could have been taken yesterday. We hadn’t changed!

“My wife died a year ago. Before she died, if we went out people thought I was her grandson!” “She thought she was going nuts.” Offered Harold

“My wife is in a rest home with dementia. When I come to visit her I get the same thing. They think I’m a grandson or a nephew or something. The one time I offered that I was her husband they wanted to kick me out for suggesting such a thing.” Langley complained.

I had never married. The PTSD I suffered from eventually ended any relationship I had entered into when I inevitably took cover from a car backfire or sought refuge from Fourth of July fireworks or woke up screaming in the middle of the night. But I wasn’t ignorant of the fact that in our sixties, we still looked like we were twenty somethings.

“I don’t know what to say.” I began “you all know our correct ages. We went through hell together and…WE ALL CAME HOME!” A light was beginning to shine in my head. “Look. You all know what we went through way back when. What are the chances that giving what we went through, NONE of us died then, and as far as I know, if the group letter is any indication, none of us has died since!”

Harold and Langley stared at one another. “You can’t mean that crazy order of Captain Anderson’s has anything to do with this…can you?” Started Langley.

“What else makes sense?” I questioned

“He was just trying to keep our spirits up. That’s all “ they said in unison.

“We all knew that Anderson was an odd duck so to speak.”

“Yea but he kept us together and he got us home!”

“Just because he was a loner and didn’t drink doesn’t mean he was some kind of wizard or guru or something.”

“Have any of you gone and had physicals or anything? To see if anything is wrong with us?”

Both confirmed that they had had many physicals over the years and the only thing that had ever come of it was having to correct their records age when their doctors refused to believe their true age.

“I never told anyone this before but that day we were in the Forrest. Langley it was that day you painted extra stripes on my sleeve. I found Captain Anderson in a thicket talking to someone but nobody else was there. He saw me and turned around before I could look any more.”

“So?”

“So it was just after that he gave that crazy order.”

“Are you saying he had help from above or something”

“I don’t know what I’m saying. All I know is what happened.”

We all stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

“I’ll see if I can get ahold of any one else and see if they’re going through the same thing.”

We paid our bill and silently left.

Langley called me periodically and confirmed that all twenty six of us were experiencing the same thing. Some had capitalized on the situation and had married much younger women and had two and even three families over their extended lifetimes. I tried to find Captain Anderson but without much to go on his whereabouts were elusive.

Time went on again and advanced age came and went. More wars where we had to make up some excuse that we were 4F or had deferments or whatever to keep from having to be drafted. Another reunion happened when we were in our nineties but it still looked like some recent high school reunion. We came, silently stared, mumbled under our breath, ate and left. Our wives ran the gamut of old grannies to twenty something’s. And children and grandchildren looked older than their grandfathers.

Eventually all of us began to live secluded lives. Tired of the questions and physicals and the odd picture in the local paper and the questions they started. The century mark came and went quietly for us and we welcomed the anonymity.

Ten more years and all of us had buried at least one wife and kids and grandkids. The anguish from these deaths had more than a few begging for release from whatever this was. Somehow even the couple of attempted suicides didn’t work and all twenty six survived into their hundred and teens.

The group letter turned into a group email and it actually made keeping in touch easier. Someone would send a recent picture that only confirmed that the “curse?” “Blessing” whatever was still in force. I continued to look for Captain Anderson with no luck.

Then it finally happened. Harold DIED! At a hundred and twenty he just suddenly died. An autopsy didn’t find anything wrong, he had just seemed to turn off. Having been a veteran of both world wars he qualified for burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Twenty three of the original twenty five survivors attended the funeral. Harold had no one left. Wives and kids had all passed on. In the absence of any one else to give it to I accepted the flag from the color guard.

I didn’t have anywhere to go, and as far as I knew I had all the time in the world so I kind of hung around Washington D.C. just to take in the sites. Harold’s lawyer found our group email and asked that as many as possible of us, could we attend a reading of his will in two days. We had all stayed close and all twenty five of us indicated we would be there. The appointed time and date came and we all crowded into the lawyers meeting room. The lawyer greeted us with astonishment. He had only handled Harold’s affairs via emails and faxes. He had never actually met him. All twenty five of us confirmed to the lawyer that we were who we said we were and our average age was one hundred and twenty. I was the oldest at one hundred and twenty two.

“It is near impossible for me to believe that you twenty five men are all over a century old when my thirty two year old son looks older than any one of you.” The lawyer confessed. “Never the less, Harold’s will forewarned of this incredible occurrence so I have no choice but to continue.” The lawyer picked up some papers that likely were Harold’s will and began. “In the matter of the estate of Harold Willis. To the band of soldiers it was my honor to serve with a century ago and having no other surviving relatives, I have liquidated my assets and leave to each of you a check representing one twenty fifth of my estate.” The lawyer passed out checks, in the amount of thirty thousand dollars, to each of us.” We all sat silently with our thoughts. Quoting from the will the lawyer continued. “In addition to this money I have one other gift to give you if you want it. I won’t say all the specifics but if you go to the American Cemetery in Normandy France, section J last row in the corner you’ll find what you may be looking for.” Thank you gentleman that’s all the will says.

All of us agreed that we’d charter a flight to France and find out what this cryptic message ment. A week later we were landing in Paris France. We had chartered a bus that would accommodate all of us and headed to Normandy.

The news services the next day were having a field day with what had been found at the American Cemetery in Normandy. Twenty five bodies, all of them very advanced in age, were found lined up as if in formation in a corner of section J of the cemetery. All of them had checks in their pockets for thirty thousand dollars and one way tickets to France from Washington DC. One body, it was speculated may have been some sort of leader to the group was laying at the front of the group. The coroners did their investigations and then the bodies were bagged and removed. The coroners dreaded what was sure to be a lengthy investigation. As the last of them left, one las picture was taken by one of the investigators.

At the top if the picture, a cross headstone had the inscription. Anderson, James West Major US Army WW1 and 2 on the bottom a further inscription read. Orders are rescinded. Rest in peace.

“You’re not allowed to die without my permission!” The Captain had barked the night before the battle. We laughed then. 100 years later, it’s not as funny.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

This is about to be the definition of “I’ll love you in every universe” need to get my hands on hollyhock Karasu now…

FR!! I think because it’s been framed as his parents giving him freedom that people forget that he’s literally never with his parents nor do they really even show any support..? Like wdym you didn’t help your son move into the dorms first year??? I bet they aren’t even watching bllk or aware that he’s playing soccer like how sad is that :(

Oh you’re so right imagine being surrounded by edgy sweaty boys at each other’s throats throwing insulting and elbowing each other on field…I guess that’s one area open to exploration though!! Trust if you ever wanted to write it I would 100% read it o7 yeah sometimes I stumble upon the cliche ones and stop after like a paragraph or two depending on how they choose to develop it (I feel like there’s a very specific demographic that likes to write this type of story coughwattpadcough or people in that general…age range…so it usually involves a bunch of cliches or like..reverse harem takes)

True!! I feel like I rarely see critics on other platforms too save for some dude bros LMAO actually I think I just saw one but only by proxy(?) where a nagireo fan was screenshotting a tt of a nagireo anti talking about how Reo needs to leave Nagi to get better and essentially the fan was like “lmao u wrong” so er

LMAOAOA Aiku may not be loyal to women but at least he’s got his team’s back HSGSHS

LMAOOO it’s ok I fr will take any Karasu crumb even if it means getting baited I sent a separate ask with some commentary and also me realizing it was from the event like a month ago but err yeah!! Despite not being a Kaiser fan I did enjoy reading it!!! Actually I think I prefer the way you’ve written/characterized him to his current in story counterpart LMAO the way he kinda mellowed out a bit and showed a little vulnerability because he was finally experiencing some love >>> I love the kinda awkwardness of him in the sense that he has no idea what to do when loved and can’t really even accept it fully and can’t express his own emotions in a straightforward way either! Like even with his remaining snarkiness this is him essentially on his best behavior because of love and he’s just now being given the chance to explore it (?? I don’t think I articulated that well LOL but like he’s such an asshole in bllk it’s like even being in love only brings him to this level of ‘politeness’ LMAO)

Totally agree he needs a LOT of work before he gets to that like charming suave persona I see a lot of the time…so cue applause here LOL in a way I think he’s similar to Rin in that sense of 1) mischaracterization kinda and 2) not knowing how to love and being kinda clumsy with the it almost

-Karasu anon

HOLLYHOCK KARASU OUT SOON 🤩 he’s so boyfriend i love him sm…otoya’s lucky he’s got the power of plot shielding him because otherwise he’d be in some hot water

EXACTLY they dgaf abt him it feels like!! and also as much as it sounds nice to have a friend like relationship w your parents and parents that leave you alone and whatnot, that’s not healthy for a child and their development. plus nagi might SEEM like he likes being left alone but i mean. does he really?? or does he just not know how to interact with people because he was never taught to?? he mentions to zantetsu in epinagi that he appreciates reo for being the first person to care abt a slacker like him which to me is a hint that he wants to be cared for he just doesn’t know how to go about obtaining that

YES EXACTLY and also like not even in a sexist way but women tend to be weaker than men!! the average difference might not be that big but these are like high level athletes we’re talking abt…imagine being like 5’4 and all of a sudden you’re getting tackled by BAROU 😭 that’s a fatality right there 😓 ofc bllk is not the most realistic when it comes to soccer and whatnot so there’s workarounds but i do think that’s something to be considered as well. and yeahhh i didn’t want to say it but i agree that it’s a trope more common w that demographic unfortunately 😰 and yes there def is a lot of reverse harem stuff going on in that subgenre!! that’s one of the things i would like to subvert where it SEEMS like the setup is a reverse harem but the further you go in the story the more you realize that there’s only one love interest that actually makes sense and the others are only red herrings

HAHA dudebros are on their level of criticism DJLSJXSJ they’re crazy fr 😭 getting mad that girls watch bllk or people who don’t play soccer watch it or wtvr as if it was ever that serious 😫 also wait that’s crazy because it’s like so obvious in the story that nagireo are holding each other back?? like that one dude from mc (i think his name is agi??) straight up says it 😭 how much more obvious can it get

PLSSSSS aiku is such a funny guy tbh like i think isagi and bachira said it best when they made fun of him for “not keeping up w the defense” and for being so reliable on field but not so much off the field. i feel like i see so many aiku fans on here but honestly he doesn’t do it for me…i think it’s the facial hair maybe 😕

yes i do think he would be a bit gentler off field (as w the rest of the bllk boys) but when i say a bit i mean a BIT. he’s kind of a jerk in general though (in part due to his past) and he has never experienced anything like love or affection so he’d have 0 idea how to give it. eventually he might get to that more fanon characterization but it would take a lot of time and reassurance and patience from his partner for that to be even close to possible. i agree that he faces a lot of the same troubles as rin in terms of the personality he tends to be given in fics unfortunately 💔 the curse of being a popular character…forever facing mischaracterization exaggeration and f-boy-ification 😰✊🏻

[lehguru]

CALLING THEM MY LOVE + BLLK BOYS

characters: itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru + michael kaiser

warnings: this is a request! not proofread (we die like men right where we stand), gender neutral + requests are open ! check pinned post for requesting rules

itoshi sae raises his eyebrows as soon as the words leave your lips. you notice he is about to leave your shared apartment and you give him a soft kiss; "don't go too hard on yourself, my love". while the rest of his expression remained the same, the way his eyebrows shoot up was so obvious you noticed it immediately. sae wrapped one of his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. 'don' worry, baby... can you call me like that again?'

itoshi rin would never expect you to say that. he was having some struggles; his body was exhausted, but he felt like he didn't practice enough that day. when you found him in the treadmill, not even five minutes after he arrived home, your heart immediately stopped. he looked like he could pass out at any moment. "are you okay, my love?!" you exclaimed, running up to him. he tripped softly, making you even more worried, and his wide eyes looked at you. 'w-what?' his breathless self held your hands that pressed against his sweaty face. 'i'm...your love?'

isagi yoichi have the sweetest pet names for you. he's always calling you cute things, a big smile on his face whenever he does it, so you thought you could give him a soft pet name too. that day, he and his friends organized a small meet up and your boyfriend seemed so hyped for it. before he left, he walked to you and pressed kisses all over your face, his arms wrapping you in a big bear hug. "have fun, my love!" you murmured between giggles. the smile he gave you was enough to make you melt in his embrace. he pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose and 'i love you so much!'

bachira meguru gives you the biggest and brightest smile as soon as the pet name leaves your lips. "my love, can you come here?" you say and, when you blink, he is immediately jumping in front of you, almost doing a little dance out of happiness. before you can say what you wanted to, he throws himself in your arms, burying his face on your neck. 'my love? hm, i really reaaaaally like that! i am your love, after all!'

calling michael kaiser with any pet name wouldn't be a good idea. that man already have a big inflated ego, his beloved partner giving him such sweet names would only inflate it even more. "my love! you were amazing today!" you say when he arrives home after a game. the smirk that he wore on his lips grew larger as he hugged you tight against his body. 'of course. your husband will always be the best man in the field. can i get a kiss as a reward, my love?'

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used on them belong to their respective creators!!

[cefonteyn]

European History and Sensibilities in 1899 season 1

Please forgive the length of this post -- I know I'm rambling, but I am so taken by the depth and brilliance of this show. For context, I'm an Indian immigrant to the United States, who studied American and European history and literature in the U.S. As you might imagine, I have many, many thoughts about 19th century European history and ideologies evident in 1899.

One of the really fascinating things to me about 1899 is how European it is -- obviously in terms of the nationalities of the actors and the characters, but also in terms of one of the show's leitmotifs: you cannot run from your station in life.

There were populist revolutions across Europe in 1848. They broadly failed, and the monarchs won. So in 1899, Europe was still a land of kaisers and czars (both words that come from Caesar, immediately locating 19th century Europe within a two-thousand year history of inherited status).

This is in direct opposition to the American myth, right? The idea that you can come from nothing and become the king of the world. That's a story Americans love to tell and hear, and when we Americans talk about European immigration in the 19th century, that's the way we tell the story. "All men are created equal," we say. This is where you're supposed to come if you're the "poor huddled masses yearning to breathe free." New York, specifically, is where Lady Liberty holds her lamp beside the golden door. (Lady Liberty is European, of course -- but she is French. France had a successful republican revolution in 1791, relapsed with a series of emperors, but by 1899 was a republic again.)

That's why the Kerberos is bound for New York, and not Buenos Aires or Sydney or Bombay. The American myth calls to all our friends on the Kerberos. The show begins with an American poet's words. Olek repeatedly looks at an image of the Statue of Liberty. Virginia explicitly says, "Everyone is running from something." They all hope to escape their pasts and begin anew in America, specifically, because of America's foundational mythos. Maura hopes to become a woman doctor. Tove hopes to lead a normal life with her baby and siblings. Iben hopes to establish a church rather than toiling in the fields.

But they never make it to New York. They've tried "dozens of times," Daniel tells Maura, but the ship never reaches its destination. Because New York isn't real. These European have no hope, ever, of successfully becoming the masks they wear. Angel says exactly this to Ramiro: "You cannot change the nature of things." Later on, it seems that he has had a change of heart, but his realization comes too late, and he's never able to act on his epiphany and become a better person.

Consider the stories of Ling Yi, Lucien, and Franz.

In the British colony of Hong Kong, Ling Yi tries to steal her way into a better life. The results are disastrous: she loses her best friend. Later, she loses her mother. Even though she acknowledges to her mother that she's not entitled to have dreams, she begins a dreamy relationship with Olek -- and then loses the boy she loves. By the end, she's lost everyone she cares about. There is nothing left of the better life she tried to steal from Mei Mei. The ship isn't real. The ocean isn't real. Even her beautiful stolen kimono is gone. The only familiar presence left in her life, the only person with whom she can communicate, is her pimp.

Like Ling Yi, Lucien tried to steal an identity. He returned to Paris from French Algeria trying to live out a dead man's life, and learned that the universe would not allow it. He accepts his death as soon as Eyk announces that he's heading for the Prometheus, and later tells Clemence, "I didn't get what I wanted. I got what I deserved." He understands his fate as almost a karmic balance. He stole a dead man's life, and now he has to die, too.

And then there's Franz. He's the "American" on board, in the sense that he does what a prototypical American would appreciate. He's clearly of a lower-class background and builds solidarity with the working class. He attempts to democratize the ship by empowering the underclass -- giving them arms. And when he feels that the ship's leader is not doing a good job, he seizes power to redirect the ship to its original course. It could almost be in the U.S. Declaration of Independence, which starts by justifying the American Revolution. His actions are so very American that he could almost be heroic.

Of course, the name Franz is related to France. France gave critical support to America in its revolution. Then, as I said above, it had its own bloody revolution and deposed its king. By 1899, France was a republic. So maybe it's more accurate to say that Franz is the French revolutionary, not the American.

But either way, in 1899, he's not a hero. His coup fails. Nobody shows him any respect at all, from haughty first mate Sebastian, to dignified first-class passenger Maura, right down to humble stoker Olek. The crew that was initially on his side turns against him (before he's deactivated, Wilhelm admits that Eyk had been right all along). Even the third-class passengers Franz empowered lose respect for him by the end, when he can't explain the mysterious Calling.

So, in the second half of the show, Franz returns to his proper place: under Eyk's command. (Just like France returned to imperial rule under Napoleon, even after its revolution.) Eyk is above deck, seeking philosophical enlightenment, exploring the nature of the mystery with Maura. And Franz is lower than ever, in the lowest part of the ship, performing manual labor: shoveling coal. When the storm hits, he doesn't even know until someone comes down to tell him.

In contrast, consider Olek. He never, ever subverts his station in life. Even when he's frustrated by Eyk, he does everything the captain requests. He treats everyone with deference, not even meeting their eyes, because he understands that he's lowest ranked. Even the relationships he forges -- the friendship with stowaway Jerome and relationship with prostitute Ling Yi -- are with people in his own class/rank.

Notably, Olek is Polish. In 1899, Poland hadn't existed for over 100 years; it had been divided between the Russian Empire, the Austro-Hungarians, and Prussia (later the German Empire). Olek is literally nobody, from no land.

And for knowing his place in life, he is rewarded by the universe: he ends up acting in stead of the captain, steering the ship. (Brilliantly, Olek's name comes from Alexander, as in Alexander the Great. It may not be immediately apparent to people who dismiss him as a "Polack," but Olek has rich history and leadership in his name.)

And finally, there's Eyk himself. His old-fashioned name also means "ruler," from the word for oak trees under which village heads issued their rulings. And he is the definite ruler of the ship. He is imperious and stern to start, and Maura immediately recognizes from the way that he carries himself that he is the ship's captain. He knows Morse code, and how to read naval maps, and the depth of the sea. He also knows how to read his crew and order them around.

Eyk exhibits a magnetic charisma, which works on everyone. Jerome and Ramiro, who would rather have kept their heads down and stayed out of the spotlight, end up risking their lives for him. Sebastian apologizes to him before deactivating him. Even Daniel -- for whom Eyk is a romantic rival -- helps Eyk, agrees with him publicly, and eventually just moves him elsewhere rather than deactivating him.

But as events get stranger, Eyk's behavior becomes erratic. He drinks heavily on the job. He treats officers, crew, and passengers poorly. He makes an imperious decision against the wishes of every single person on board. George III lost America for the same thing. Julius Caesar died for that, and so did Louis XVI.

But the mutiny against Eyk fails. Tove, who points a rifle at Eyk and informs him that they're turning the ship around, is also the first person to defect from the mutineers. She says to him, "Du bist der Kapitan." After the Calling, everyone again acknowledges Eyk as the captain. When the crisis of the storm begins, it's Eyk they seek first, before turning to Sebastian and Franz.

The show presents this as the correct order of things. Eyk is sympathetic, intelligent, and noble, in every sense of the word. We, the audience, love him for it. Even when we sympathize with Franz, we never agree with him and turn against Eyk.

So, the first season reifies the 1899 European idea that one ought to act in accordance with one's class status. Escaping one's station in life is impossible, and attempting to do so always leads to disaster.

(Here I would be remiss not to mention the relationship to Hinduism and Buddhism. The idea that everyone's life circumstances are a reflection of their actions in their past lives, and therefore should not be avoided or changed? That's Hinduism. The idea that the universe is an illusion? It's called maya, and it's in Hinduism and Buddhism. The idea that attachment to the illusory things of maya necessarily brings suffering, that suffering distracts you from your true self as part of atman and your goal of achieving moksha -- of being blown out of existence like a candle (nirvana) -- of achieving liberation from the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth: all of this is in Hinduism and Buddhism. It's exactly what Daniel tries to tell Maura.

Europeans in the 19th century were familiar with these concepts. Knowledge of Hinduism and Buddhism was quite fashionable not only in Britain, but across the continent, and it remained so into the 20th century. See, e.g., Hermann Hesse's 1927 German novel Siddhartha about the Buddha, or this Polish translation of the Sanskrit Ramayana from 1937.)

Of course, European history didn't end in 1899. Major shifts were on the horizon; a century of war was about to begin, reshaping Europe's map several times. European nations bit into one another, sometimes spitting each other out, sometimes swallowing each other whole.

The British empire continued to lose its global power. World War I ended Eyk's German Empire and established the Weimar Republic, setting the stage for the Third Reich. The 1917 Revolution ended Imperial Russia and established the Soviet Union. The Treaty of Paris reestablished Olek's Poland. Civil war raged in Angel's Spain. World War II began in 1937 on the Sino-Japanese front, and Ling Yi's Hong Kong was occupied by Japan. Olek's Poland was occupied by Germany, as was Clemence, Lucien, and Jerome's France.

And then the Cold War raged. Europe was split in two. America became a superpower and spread its sensibilities across war-ravaged Western Europe, while the Soviet Union did the same in the East. Eyk's Germany was itself split.

Until, finally, came the mostly peaceful Revolutions of 1989 (the same numerals as 1899!), fulfilling the populist promise of the 1848 revolutions. Round Table Talks -- beginning in Olek's Poland -- spread capitalist democracy across Eastern Europe. The Berlin Wall came down later the same year in Eyk's Germany.

(Jantje and Bo are German, too, of course. Their age and vantage point in Central Europe means they have a wonderful perspective on late 20th century European history.)

The Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, leaving America as the sole world power. Obviously, Europe is not America. To this day, America is a very libertarian country, ruled by a worship of individualism and the belief that riches and success are only a reinvention away. European countries are not ruled by this same fundamental ideology.

But in the 20th century, we Americans exported (read: forced) some of ourselves across the world, including in Europe, very often in evil ways. A lot of it was horrible and self-interested. We ruined lives. We ruined generations. We ruined entire nations.

But not all of it was bad. (Black Americans invented jazz and rock and roll, after all, and it's the latter genre that plays at the end of every episode.) And one of the things we exported was our foundational myth -- our belief -- now widely accepted in many parts of the world, including modern Europe: that it is inherently right and correct that people should chart their own destinies rather than being forced into roles determined at birth.

(Not to suggest that self-determination is uniquely American. Other cultures have this belief indigenously, of course! I only mean that we exported our own version.)

At the end of the first season, we see the same people that we've gotten to know, but in a new historical context. They no longer believe that they are in 1899; now it seems they're in 2099. They're not exactly in America, but they are in the territory that America claimed to have won spiritually in 1969, in its space race with the Soviet Union. (Of course, we now acknowledge space as a place for all humans, not for any race or nationality. That kind of unity is reflected in post-WWII organizations like the United Nations...and the European Union.)

And so I wonder if the same leitmotif will play in the next step of these characters' journey, or if the next season will reflect Europe's 20th century: changing social roles. Democratization. Mass murder and genocide. Waning empires and anti-immigration sentiments. Homophobia, transphobia, sexism, and gender equality and increased LGBTQ+ rights. Socialism and austerity.

I really hope the next season embraces the next chapter in Europe's history. If so, it promises to be a very interesting season, marked with sharp internal and external conflicts and contradictions. Because, to borrow a phrase from the American poet Walt Whitman, Europe is large, it contains multitudes.

[being-worthy]

Sunday cinema: The King’s Man

I haven't done one of these in a while (again xD), but when I watched today The King's Man, there was this quote that I found amazing and wished we would hear it more (or at least, similar to it) and it moved me to make a review about the film.

Nevertheless, I have got good news and bad news about the film.

> SPOILER ALERT AHEAD!! <

Let's start with the good news/parts:

A great aspect that I loved was how the film includes true events and real-life people of importance from the era. It depicts a number of key figures involved in World War I such as King George V, Kaiser Wilhelm II, Tsar Nicholas II, Grigori Rasputin, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Herbert Kitchener, Prince Felix Felixovich Yusupov, Erik Jan Hanussen to name a few (the three royal cousins are all portrayed by Tom Hollander). This way it mixes fictional core characters with what really happened during that time. Moreover, it also illustrates the real deaths of some of these key history figures.

Another aspect worth mentioning is the fight scene between Orlando, Duke of Oxford (later on Arthur, played by Ralph Fiennes), Conrad Oxford (the son), and Shola (later on known as Merlin) and Grigori Rasputin (played by Rhys Ifans) is a terrific action sequence! Rasputin shows off some incredible fighting skills and twirls through the room almost like he is dancing. His dancing/fighting skills reminded me of the mazurka scene from The Addams Family (2019), but this scene is actually based on the Russian cossack dancing (or hopak in Ukraine). I'm just going to mention here (and in small) the part where Rasputin does something quite weird, disgusting, and quite unhygienic to Orlando's leg before the fight and I think it would have been preferable if he had just given him a bj, not to mention that I do NOT need to see people throw up in movies!! NOBODY NEEDS TO SEE PEOPLE THROWING UP IN MOVIES!!

However, the main reason I'm writing this review was due to some of the great quotes.

The first one is right at the beginning where the Oxford family (patrons of the Red Cross) visit a "prisoner" camp in South Africa in 1902, although most of them look like civilians among them are also children, and they are all malnourished (your typical concentration camp).

"Do you remember why King Arthur and his knights had a round table? Because it meant that all men were equal. It's important that people born into privilege lead by example. That's why your father and I are patrons of the Red Cross, helping others, not hiding behind our status. Never forget that."

The 2nd quote I love (and wished many people would have the guts to admit) happens when the Duke and his son visit the Kingsman tailor shop for the first time together. The Duke's father brought him there to get his first suit too and wants to pass this tradition to his son, Conrad Oxford.

"Our ancestors, they were terrible people. They robbed, lied, pillaged, and killed until one day they found themselves a nobleman. But that nobility, it never came from chivalry. It came from being tough and ruthless. Back then to be called a gentleman, would have been a death sentence, not the mark of honour it is today. We are oxfords, not rogues."

These two quotes should be the mantra of many of the royal members, politicians, governments, and even famous people (e.g. actors, singers, etc.). For instance, I have never heard the English monarchy admitting and owning their sh*t of all the cruelties they did in the past to get all the power and money they hold to this day, much less to right those they wronged, or at least, asked for forgiveness, and I doubt we will see this happening. Furthermore, people born into privilege (and this can be any type of privilege, not just royal status) should lead by example and be more humble, but the truth is, they rarely do and when they do, the cameras are not far away and in many occasions, they end up receiving some incentive for doing so.

Now about the negative characteristics; my main and big critique was why bother casting Gemma Arterton as Polly Wilkins aka Galahad, and one of the only female lead roles, if you are going to give her barely any screentime and mostly have her doing mundane nanny duties? What happened to her action scenes? After all, she had to undergo a demanding training schedule (for scenes that weren't even shot in the end) all of it for nothing? This shows that men still have preferences when it comes to action scenes in movies.

The action scenes are not quite as spectacular as in Kingsman or Kingsman: The Golden Circle and quite ordinary, frankly. Besides the one mentioned at the beginning of this post.

Last but not least, the film is okay if you want to watch something to pass the time, but they could have saved it. I sadly have to say that the film is not as good as its predecessors and it is also extremely predictable, from who dies, who ends up together, to who is the main villain of the movie and therefore, a truly unnecessary prequel.

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Episodes 47-50

In which we stand on the brink of a truly epic showdown, Yang and Reinhard bear the universe on their shoulders, and I praise this show’s smart use of space as terrain in battle.

Coming Storm

Ever since the beginning of Legend of the Galactic Heroes, one thing has been clear: it was only a matter of time before Yang and Reinhard faced each other in combat. Their collision course was inevitable the moment they both started rising through the ranks. And now, just under halfway through the show, that moment is upon us at last. Reinhard’s invasion of the Alliance has brought his army right into Yang’s crosshairs, and Yang has needled him to the point where nothing’s standing in their way any longer. On a broader scale, I really like how the story’s built up to this point. It was obvious from the start that this battle was coming, but LOTGH has done a good job justifying the circumstances and thought processes that brought both characters to this point. On Yang’s side, defeating Reinhard is the most efficient way for him to bring about peace. He’s well aware that Reinhard is a massive symbol for the Empire, and considering he’s heirless, taking him down is sure to break his army apart in despair and petty squabbles. On Reinhard’s side, his political support all but demands Yang’s fall. His reputation is close to divine worship at this point, so if Yang beats him and proves him fallible, there’s no telling how quickly his reputation and goodwill will plummet. But aside from those more practical concerns, on a personal level, both of them just really want to fight each other. They’ve been circling each other for years now, two master tacticians spitting at each other from afar but never coming face to face. For Reinhard especially, the impatience is almost unbearable. The desire to test wits against someone on your level is overwhelming, and I get the sense that even were there not a good strategic reason, the new Kaiser would still find some excuse to chase down Miracle Yang himself. That’s how deep his obsession is growing.

Man on a Pedestal

Speaking of which, man is Reinhard starting to amaze me. As much as I disagree with his dictatorship, it’s really remarkable how much effort he’s putting in to rise above his country’s past sins. Rather than sitting in the rear and letting people die for him, he’s willing to fight on the front lines and try to seize the universe with his own blood, sweat and tears. He even considers his men’s well-being and has them retreat to rest and recover rather than spending them until they’re wasted. Despite how badly losing Kirchies has scarred him, he’s steadfastly refusing to crack under the pressure. I only hope that lasts, though, because he is really starting to show signs of exhaustion. He’s been running around and fighting basically his entire life, and if he doesn’t let himself rest soon, he may just drive himself into the dirt. The fact that he’s started to project his Kirchies feels onto another convenient redhead is a worrying development, that’s all I’m saying. But even then, he’s sure to keep a sensible distance from the boy and tell him not to use Reinhard himself as an example. Yes, it’s very arrogant to tell a kid not to try and live up to you because nobody can, but in Reinhard’s case, not only is it accurate, it shows he’s self-aware at how exhausting the path he’s walking is. It is hard to do what Reinhard’s trying to do, and not even Reinhard might even be able to pull it off. Better set impressionable kids on the right path than make them risk burning themselves out trying to live up to gods. He’s still young; let him dream while he’s still got the capacity to dream within him.

Of course, Yang’s no stranger to the pressure of leadership himself. Now that he’s been promoted to marshal, the number of people he’s responsible for- and the number of deaths on his hands- is only going to grow and grow. He’s still full of sage advice for Julian (”One thing you just never do is disregard the civilians on the enemy’s side.”), and he’s showing no signs of losing his trademark unflappable cool (”Then let’s defeat the enemy in two hours and run away with the remaining one.”), but it’s definitely worrying how much this all weighs on him. He never wanted to be a soldier in the first place, and now, he holds the life and death of countless men and women, and the happiness of their families, in his far-too-small hands. At least he’s got Julian back on his side now; his young charge will certainly help him carry that burden, especially now that Julian’s started taking direct pages out of Yang’s playbook. But there’s no telling how the upcoming battle is going to shake things up. Depending on how it plays out, Yang and Reinhard both risk falling down some very, very dark paths. Here’s hoping they both escape it with their valor unscathed.

Galactic Splendor

I’ve talked a lot about how impressive LOTGH is on an action level. Its intricate ship animation and big, explosive bursts of combat really inject some life into this show’s veins without compromising its stuffy presentation. But I also want to drive home just how damn good it is at using space itself as a battlefield. It would be so easy for the armies to just fight each other in an empty void, ships circling around each other mindlessly. But no, this show is constantly thinking about how to use its environment as part of the tactics and strategy on both sides. Ships have to deal with unexpected interference from nearby planetary gravity. Some battles have the armies hide behind the floating wrecks of their destroyed allies for cover. The most recent fight sees Yang taking advantage of a damn black hole to manipulate his opponent to his advantage, and that opponent later uses that same black hole to escape a near-catastrophic defeat. Outer space is as much battlefield terrain as a forest, river, open plain, bombed-out city, or anything else. It’s an environment that shapes the battles occurring within it and forces both sides to think tactically about their surroundings. And it goes a long way in making every fight feel fresh, tense, exciting, and unpredictable. I can’t praise this show enough for it.

Odds and Ends

-Hm, not sure I like trying to humanize Rupert after his death. The dude’s already gone, no need to spend this much time on him.

-Damn, wild attacks for the win.

-”I need to leave this old body for the muzzles of the enemy’s guns, huh?” Wow. That’s really dark.

-Huh, Julian’s back without any trouble. Genuinely didn’t expect that.

-”This isn’t like sports, defeating a strong enemy won’t make you stronger.” skdjhskdf well so much for training arcs

-Daaaamn, Greenhill, nice! Tell those reporters to shove off!

-”When I was a child, I was famous for the speed of my hand.” I like her.

-Wait, the bishop just died on the way? Weird.

-Yeah, I barely processed yet, Earth is a total nonentity in Galactic Society now. That’s so unsettling.

-”I’m planning on having you go up to heaven and pull me up with a fishing hook.” aksjdhaskdjh nice

Next session’s gonna be crazy. See you then!

[erzherzog-von-edelstein]

Precipice of Oblivion

Characters: Germany, Bavaria

Summary: It is the mid-1920s and Germany is dealing with his own depression and disappointment from the first world war. He searches for a way to comfort and change himself. He eventually stumbles across something that will change his destiny forever.

Words: 5K

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Germany was awake, but he had not yet summoned the will to get out of bed. A decade ago, he would have already have been out of bed, dressed, and ready to go to drills, where Prussia would run him through his paces. But, those happy days were gone. There was no Kaiser anymore, no royal glory, no processions with gorgeous array and the black eagle flying proudly. Beyond the door of his bedroom lay all the troubles he had brought upon himself. There were Frenchmen in the Ruhr Valley and an incompetent cabal of cowards in the Reichstag, and neither could be helped.

Germany groaned and turned himself onto his side. He wished that he could pull the blankets up and disappear under them. It was hard now to go out and work to pay back piles of reparations that he had agreed to. The same scene played every time he closed his eyes: Prussia raging against the treaty and Germany extending his coward's hand to stop his brother. He remembered that he had pleaded with his brother to accept the terms. His hand curled into a fist against the sheets. Why hadn't he stopped and thought about the consequences? All the diplomats had told him that he should do just that, betray himself and end the bloodshed. They said the country would continue to starve and bleed unless he did it. And yet, the people had starved all the same for another year after the treaty. One of the many promises that had been broken before the treaty was even a year old. Shame clung to his skin and nothing he had done could wash it off.

There was one look that was burned into his mind: his brother's eyes when they had both signed the treaty, cold and resigned like he had never seen them. It was the first time he had seen his brother accept humiliation, and it was a humiliation he had inflicted on Prussia. If he left the bed he would have to face his brother again. That he could not stand. He pulled his arm across his chest, trying to cover the pit he felt there; the arm still felt weak from the mortar shard that had torn through it. The physical pain had healed, but it felt like it would never be the same.

There was a sharp knock on the door; it had the precision and candor of one of his brother's men. Probably this man was here to castigate him for his tardiness. With another groan, he said, "What is it?" The voice came from the other side of the door, "Your brother is spending the day in Vienna. He urges you to go out into the city again. He said it is unhealthy for a young man to shut himself away."

Germany turned over onto his back again. Prussia had probably wanted to tell him that in person, but his absence had meant a messenger was necessary. He chewed on his lower lip and thought about the contents of the message. His brother had such a way of making him descend into despair without meaning it. What could he have meant that it was not healthy? Could he not just yell at Germany and tell him to stop moping. That could at least engender some dislike that could remedy some of the burden of guilt. Prussia had that way about him, always concerned and always so damned perfect. Everything he touched and said came out right and Germany could not help but feel his own shame spreading. He was not his rightful heir, not in demeanor or prowess on the battlefield. Prussia had done brilliantly on the Eastern Front; Germany knew he had failed in invading France. There was no use in going out into the city to feel better. He had already tried it; drowning himself in the colorful frantic nightlife of Berlin had not assuaged his feeling of guilt. No matter what he did, the feeling roared back and put him back here, laying in his own misery.

To distract his mind from the idea, he turned it back to the other part of the message. Prussia was going to Vienna for a day, and yet it seemed like he had spent several days there already. In the years since the end of the war, Prussia's visits to the Austrian capital had gotten much more frequent. What did he find there that was so comforting? Germany had begun to doubt that it was just the coffee and the cakes. It seemed that Prussia wanted to comfort Austria after the loss of his empire. It made him contemplate the strange feelings that arose when he looked at Italy. The blushing and the happy unease were a symptom of something that he had only read about in poetry.

Germany turned his thoughts again, trying to find something peaceful, or at least comforting enough to stir from his present state. At least with Prussia gone he could mope where he chose without fear of judgmental eyes. He did not need to pretend to be stoic or, worse, happy while the thought of France crouched on his border like a vulture plagued his mind.

A thought occurred to him. There was a room in this house that could provide him some answers to his present state and Germany sat up with a mind to go find it. He pulled on civilian clothing, not daring to put on a uniform. He felt like he had besmirched the military too much to wear a uniform. There was no reason to dirty it either since he had no intention of leaving the house. Prussia had urged him to get out, but that did not seem necessary. He had heard enough cabaret and drank enough absinthe to know that it provided no solace. How was he supposed to face the people in the streets knowing that they suffered for his mistake? No, it was better to stay here and plan to pay back France as soon as possible.

His footsteps sounded hollow and hopeless as he walked through the halls of the house, joined by no other sound. There was a garrison, he knew, but they had been greatly reduced by the treaty and were no longer visible everywhere. It had been so different in the years before the war when Prussia's army had been conspicuous and inspiring. Now the halls felt like they were occupied by ghosts. Germany knew where he was going. He had thought about doing it so many times as a young boy, but he hadn't once had the courage.

He turned sharply right towards the chambers that had once been the Kaiser's, and then turned right again, down the hallway towards his brother's room. As he laid his hand on the doorknob, he felt a childish surge of apprehension. He was not supposed to go in this room; he had never been allowed to go in here. His brother's private memories were kept behind this door, but perhaps they held something of a hope. If Germany could find what separated himself from his brother, then he could excise that quality from himself.

He turned the handle and felt it click. He had always imagined that this door was locked, but his entrance was surprisingly easy. The room was painted blue with dark curtains hanging at the windows. There were paintings on the wall too, but fewer than he had expected. There was a painting right above his bed of Friedrich the Great playing his flute surrounded by golden light. It seemed an odd place for such a portrait, but Germany could not place why. Germany was tempted to linger and look at everything on the wall to dissect their meaning and their significance. But, he had a better plan and one that he could only undertake today. He walked swiftly to a chest of drawers against the wall and pulled out the top drawer. It was full of papers that Germany gently pushed aside. Exactly where he had always expected them to be there was a set of keys.

Suppressing another wave of guilt, Germany took the keys. He took a deep breath to suppress the fear that Prussia would be livid when he discovered this betrayal. Even if he did find out, Prussia would understand the reason. Or at least Germany hoped he would. With the keys in hand, He charted a new course that took him to the only staircase that led down to the cellar. This door he knew to be locked. He had tried to open it more than once as a boy. There had always been a certain intrigue to the heavy door that he had only ever seen opened for his brother to take one of the many dark unlabeled books he owned down there. His heart pounding with the first genuine excitement he had felt since the war ended, Germany slipped one of the keys into the lock. It turned easily and Germany was able to push open the door.

The room he entered was dark, but he found a switch on the wall. But, when he flipped it, very few old electric lights flickered to life on the ceiling. But, they illuminated a trophy room like Germany had not imagined. The walls were lined with paintings, Prussia's old uniforms in perfect condition, trophies of war, and weapons. Germany walked down the length of the cavernous room, looking at each set. He knew each war; he could name them and recount the glorious victories Prussia had won at each. He had heard the stories from his brother, and they had always been his favorite to fall to sleep to. He had preferred them to any fiction. Gilbert's war stories always had heroism and feats of bravery that no false epic could depict.

As he walked, Germany felt like he was going backwards in his brother's history. The shoulders of the uniforms less broad, and as he continued they got shorter as well. He could see the one on the end nearest the door, strikingly white except for the large black cross. It was a young man's chain male, covered by a white surcoat. Germany stopped in front of it and found himself surprised how small it was. It was hard to imagine that his strong older brother had ever been that small, to have so little land. He reached out and touched the fabric of the surcoat and it felt surreal to know that it was rough.

He felt a smile that had long been absent from his face creep up his lips. It made it all the more fantastic to feel this part of his brother's life so concretely, to know that it was not all a fairytale that Gilbert made up for his amusement. It had happened just as Prussia had said; he had built himself up from practically nothing. Still delighted, Germany walked from one to another, taking them in.. He reached one that was accompanied by a beautiful langes Schwert with an eagle sculpted in the guard. Without thinking, Germany reached out and took the sword. He pulled the blade from the sheath and looked at the silver of it. It looked like it had been polished and sharpened recently, but it was not surprising that Prussia would maintain all of his weapons.

Germany was struck by a sudden urge to pull the sword from the sheath. He took it in his right hand, trying to hold it as he imagined it should be held. Maybe, he mused, if he could hold this blade like his brother did he could learn something. He raised the blade, and it felt awkward in his hand. The experimental swing felt unbalanced, and there was a strange ghostly familiarity in the feeling. He glanced at the blade and saw that the wear marks on the pommel were exactly opposite his own hand. He felt like a fool for not realizing sooner. Gilbert was left handed, so the blade had been made with that in mind. Of course it would not fit Germany. Frustrated yet again, he put the sword back in the scabbard. It was ridiculous to assume that this would help.

The feelings of inadequacy came back like a vacuum threatening to pull him back into despair. Standing in this room made it achingly clear how much he was lacking. When he was here next to the glory that his brother had won and he couldn't help but feel dwarfed by it. This was the tradition he was meant to carry on; it was glorious and uniquely German. And yet, all he felt looking at it now was how far out of reach it was. He cursed himself. What had made him so weak? Prussia had raised him, trained him, and tutored him in all sorts of philosophy and military strategy. There was nothing that should have rendered him less capable than his brother; at least nothing he could locate and quantify in himself.

Germany felt the spike of anger in the midst of the apathy that had become usual. There had to be something here that would make everything clear, some secret to Gilbert's success that he had never shared. Germany turned on his heel, seeking something more than just there mementos. His eyes lighted upon another door he had never noticed before. It was at the other end of the room, and seemed to hold some fantastic secret. He walked towards it with a rising excitement. By the time his hand was on the handle, his heart was practically pounding. He pushed against the door and it swung open, spilling light into the confined space behind it.

The light illuminated bookshelves reaching to the ceiling, full of identical dark blue books. Germany drew in a breath and tried to understand what he had just found. There had to be thousands of volumes, and yet it could not be a library. In a library the books were not all exactly alike. Out of curiosity, Germany walked closer to the shelf so he could read the silver print on the spine. Each one had a year and a range of months on it, but no other descriptor. As far as he could tell, they were arranged chronologically with such a precise organization that left Germany with no doubt that his brother had done it himself.

He reached out and took one from the shelf, noting as he did so that there was no dust on the book. Intent on understanding this enigma, he opened to the first page. There were six words neatly scrawled across the title page, "Property of the Duchy of Prussia." Germany drew in a sharp breath and he looked up at the shelves again. This could not be what he thought it was, but as he looked again he noticed that there was enough to stretch back until his brother had learned to write. Now that he thought about it, he had seen Gilbert carrying books that looked exactly like this out of his room. Germany had never thought to ask what they were. But, now he thought he knew.

To confirm his suspicion, he flipped to the next page. The handwriting was not as familiar as he expected. It was more ornate and careful than Prussia's current handwriting. The first letter of the entry was far larger than the rest. It almost resembled a manuscript. But, Germany could make out the words, "Dear diary." Germany closed the book and pressed his hand against the cover. This was exactly what he had wanted, but did he dare proceed? These were his brother's innermost thoughts, and they would provide unparalleled insight. But, reading them without his brother's knowledge would be a violation of something intimate.

Still wrestling with the moral question, Germany pushed the book back into its place on the shelf. This one would not be that interesting, Germany reasoned with himself. It he was going to read his brother's diaries, he was going to pick a moment that was crucial for his formation. He walked past the dates that did not interest him, going to further into the archive and closer to the present.

He stopped when he reached a certain year and month, this one familiar to him. He ran his finger down the spine of the book, feeling the words embossed in it. It said, "August, 1786" and he knew that date well. It was when Friedrich the Great had died. Taking a single deep breath, Germany pulled the volume from the shelf. He flipped through the pages until he found the entry from the day after the monarch's death. The words were less legible than in other entries, like they had been written in distress. Germany began to read, telling himself that he was not excited by the prospect. The words were laden with feeling, "I am left alone in the world like a widow. I know that Fritz's body is cold, but I can't stop myself from expecting him to walk through my door. In his last hours, he bequeathed me a goal, and I cannot disappoint him. He said that I should pursue my ambitions. I will do so unyieldingly, with no reservations or regret. When I see the opportunity, I will take it, regardless of what stands in my way. I have been given a holy task to bring together the German states, and I will."

Germany stopped reading, though the entry continued. He had a feeling that he was reading the moment of his own conception. He took a deep breath, trying to sort through the feelings. This diary was a glance at the inner thoughts that his brother had never told him. The key to his success was here in the words his brother had scribbled centuries ago. Prussia had resolved to be unyielding and to sweep away every obstacle in his path. Perhaps this was what Germany was lacking: the resolve to do what was necessary. He was the one who had shrunk in front of France when they had signed the treaty. He never had the gaul to stand up to the older countries, and that had been his undoing at the end of the last war. Germany resolved to himself to follow this example and never again take a course out of cowardice.

Certain that there was more to be found in the words, Germany turned his attention back to the diary. But, as he began to read again, he heard a voice from the ground level, "Ludwig, where are you?" His heart jumped into his throat at the thought that his brother was home and may discover him in his diaries. He slammed the book in his hands closed and put it back on the shelf carefully before making haste towards the door. Only once he had reached the other side of the basement did he realize that the voice calling his name was not his brother's.

The accent was different, though it was familiar. Germany felt less urgency as he closed and locked the door to his brother's trophy room. He put the keys in his pocket with the intention of returning them to Gilbert's drawers as soon as possible. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the voice of the visitor clearly, "You better be here. I came all the way here to see you."

He felt himself smile as he followed the sound of the voice. He knew who it belonged to and was glad for the company. He emerged from a hallway and came face to face with the source. Bavaria smiled as soon as he saw Germany, and he said, "There you are, you rascal." Germany responded with a grin, "Hello, cousin." He hadn't smiled like this in days and it felt strange in the muscles of his face.

Bavaria, as was his usual custom, seized Germany and pulled him into a crushing hug. He was incredibly muscular and was the only one who had ever been capable of making Germany feel small. Bavaria spoke as he released his cousin, "I haven't seen you in so long!"

Germany was warmed by the usual enthusiasm that the man had. He was surprised by Bavaria's presence. He had not expected any visitors today, but it was not unpleasant to have the company. He said, voicing his thoughts, "I didn't know you were going to be here. I would have prepared." There was a slight tinge of guilt in not having any hospitality prepared, but the other waved his hand dismissively, "I made the decision today. Your brother is spending time with my brother, so I thought I would come spend time with you."

His smile and the sparkle in his blue eyes was infectious and broke through the feeling of malaise that Germany had been feeling. He didn't get a chance to invite Bavaria into the house, because as soon as he started to say, "I will make some coffee-" the other blonde cut him off. Bavaria said, "Nonsense! All you need to do is go get a jacket. I'm going to buy you a beer." Germany had no reason to turn down the offer. Prussia was not likely to be back soon; he was always gone the full day when he went to Vienna. But, he did not want to be among other people. He felt his smile fall.

Bavaria saw the expression and doubled down on his offer, "I'll let you drive my car." He leaned in closer and said, as though it was something conspiratorial, "And I'll let you drive as fast as you want." This comment, so obviously an offer for the indulgence of avoiding Prussia's discipline, brought some comfort. Germany was, at the very least, won over for now. He responded, "Alright, Leo."

The inside of the Beer Hall was crowded, but warm and welcoming. Ludwig didn't mind the mass of humanity around him in the way he thought that they would. This was better than going out with him brother. With Gilbert, he always felt a compulsion to be on his best behavior. The formality that existed when he was in public with Prussia evaporated around Bavaria. Germany felt free to speak his mind and voice some of the thoughts he had been internalizing for fear of disappointing his brother.

After his first beer, his tongue was looser, and his cousin seemed perfectly willing to listen to his thoughts. He said, asking something that had been on his mind since that morning, "Is your brother doing alright? Gilbert has been in Vienna so often lately." The other let out a short snort of laughter. Germany recoiled, completely surprised by the reaction. But, Bavaria spoke, "If you want my opinion, Roderich is being dramatic. Losing the empire hurt him, but he is better by now. But if acting like he's still recovering brings Gilbert sympathetically to his bedside, then he's willing to spend another day on his fainting couch."

This explanation made little sense to Germany. From what he had seen, the two had been enemies for a very long time. Why would Austria want Prussia with him now? Surely that just reminded him of how he had failed to become the dominant Germanic state. He said, "I don't understand." Bavaria said, a laugh still on his voice, "You mean you've never noticed? You must have noticed!" Germany shook his head. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to have noticed, but he had not noticed whatever it was. He felt like a child again for a moment; his states had so much knowledge that he did not. The way Bavaria was smiling was all the more alienating.

The man's expression shifted as he realized that his young cousin was in earnest. Then he said, "Oh, I thought that Gilbert would have had this talk with you. Well, how do I put this?" He paused for a moment before saying, "When two men like each other very much, they fight like a married couple and force the rest of us to deal with their unresolved tension. They force politics into loggerheads and fight wars against each other, but always become allies again eventually. Then, they spend time reminiscing about past glory over coffee and schnapps."

Germany understood exactly who the other was describing, and it brought an incredulous smile to his face. Prussia had never shown any inclination towards anyone that he had noticed. Prussia's attention to Austria was only the loyalty due to a fellow German state who had suffered a terrible loss. He responded, "I don't believe that. My brother is just being honorable."

The other took a long drink from his beer while Germany spoke. A crease appeared on his forehead as he placed the glass on the table. He seemed to choose every word carefully, "I know you care about him, but I do not share your faith in Gilbert. I doubt his intentions towards Roderich have ever been honorable." Before Germany could object to this characterization of his brother, Bavaria put up a single finger to indicate that he was not yet done speaking. He continued, "And I am certain that Roderich has always been willing to play Gilbert to get what he wants too."

Germany decided to drink the rest of his beer before he spoke again. It was common knowledge that Bavaria had opposed Prussia at every turn before the unification. But, Germany was fond of the man. He usually brushed off what Bavaria said as untrue, but in this case the subject hardly interested him. In truth, it didn't matter to him if Gilbert actually felt more for Austria than he thought. It seemed to have little gravity in the moment. There were more pressing matters on his mind, and it was those he turned to.

He ran his index finger in anxious circles across the wet spot that the glass had left on the table. Finally, the words found the way to his tongue, "Leopold, do you think I'm a disappointment?" He didn't dare meet the man's eyes, so he kept his gaze on the table as he asked. Bavaria's response was immediate, "What? No!" The younger man's eyes snapped back up to meet the other's. The Bavarian looked genuinely shocked by the idea, "Who put that in your head? Has Gilbert been telling you that?"

Germany cut in quickly, worried that his companion was about to launch into a tirade about Prussia, "No, it's not that. He told me that he's proud of me, but I don't believe him. I lost the war." The feelings of doubt and hopelessness returned. Articulating the sentence felt like it made the situation real again. Bavaria countered, "I was on that front too. If you lost the war, then we both did. But no one could have done better in your position."

Germany let out a sigh, trying to believe the words. It had been his personal failing, there was no other option to explain the end of the war. Prussia had dealt with the other front so easily; just like he always did. War was easy for him. Germany said, "Gilbert would have won. He always wins." His mind slipped back to hours and hours of waiting for his brother to come back from war. He remembered waiting at the window, knowing exactly when his brother would arrive in glory, always bearing gifts and war stories. Germany distinctly remembered Prussia telling him how easy it had been to capture the French emperor before he went to bed. He had slept well thinking about how he too would soon be able to fight France and win. That felt like it had been so long ago now, even though it had barely been half a century. Germany had been a different person then, just a child hoping for his chance to be an empire.

Bavaria sighed, "Don't judge yourself against Gilbert. Yes, he's won a lot recently. But, remember that you have a little bit of each of us in you. I've lost my fair share, mostly to your dear brother. This is my advice: accept the peace and make the most of it." Germany scoffed, "How am I supposed to do that?" Bavaria leaned forward, putting both of his forearms heavily on the table. He met Germany's eyes and said, with the utmost sincerity, "Ludwig, it was your first war. You'll have other chances. It was a bad treaty, we all know it. But, there will be a better day."

Germany nodded, but he still found it impossible to internalize the words. He resigned himself to spending the rest of the night avoiding Prussia's gaze, mired in his own self-pity. He could feel his cousin's gaze on him, concerned. But, he could not say anything to reassure him. There was a certain modicum of resentment in his chest. Why did his states take defeat so easily when he couldn't escape the thought of failure in his waking hours? Bavaria had been his compatriot on the Western Front, and yet he was taking this so much more easily than Germany was.

Germany was about to breach a new topic to divert from the subject of his own failure, but the moment he decided to speak, the door to the Bierhall opened and admitted a few men in brown uniforms. Germany was intrigued; this was something he had not seen in Berlin. But, Bavaria swore under his breath, "Damn it, I forgot about them." Germany turned back to him, "Who are they?" The other ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He said, sounding angry for the first time, "They call themselves National Socialists. They're just a group of zealots." He stood up, and said, "Come on, Ludwig. We'll find somewhere more reputable to go."

Germany considered it for a moment. If they were nationalists then why should he fear or ignore them? The resentment he felt towards his states, the old men who were willing to accept humiliating defeat, boiled into resistance. He said, sharply, "No, I want to stay." He wasn't certain what he was making this stand for, but it felt good to affirm his own will. This was what Prussia had done; it said so in his diary. He had been self-interested and unyielding, and now Germany would do the same. Bavaria looked incredulous and he said, "Why?" Germany replied with a shrug and said, "What harm could it do?" The other gave him a look of immense annoyance, but settled back down into his seat. Germany felt a sense of triumph that he was finally going to take control of his life again.